[ Dawn breaks the night, ushering in the light of day that soon gives way to noon. Through this passage of time, Somnus sleeps.
Dressed in his tunic, he lies on his side with the covers haphazardly pushed down to the level of his waist. Breathing that is just labored enough to be audible up close accompanies the noticeable rise and fall of his chest. Stray strands of hair cling to the flushed skin of his slack face as he slumbers through his body's inflammatory response, oblivious to the sickness circulating within.
Ordinarily, he would rise with the dawn to begin his contribution to the city at once. Today, he shows no sign of rousing even now. His door stays closed, never opening for his departure. ]
[ She returns later than him in the evening after an extended day at the wall, laboring away at the repairs. Her intention by the wall had not just been to assist with rebuilding it, but to study it. Brick, stone, wood, and mortar are the basis for the structure, and instead of bringing in new materials from elsewhere, all of it is recycled from the ruins of the breach as well as older buildings... Which means, effectively, that the scar in the solid wall may be weaker than the rest of its structure. It would be an easy point to break in the future, should another attack occur. As for the barrier itself, whole and glimmering again, it remains uniform throughout with no indication of just where it had been struck. There is no sign of age, wear, or thinning like how centuries old glass might perform over time. It remains intact with energies so refined that she can hardly discern one light from the other.Â
Being near the wall and the barrier, however, has taken its toll upon her, physically and mentally, and while throughout the day she had been careful to rest and seek out touch to stave off the mysterious illness, by twilight she finds herself wandering back to her residence for want of sleep. Which she does eventually do, collapsing onto her bed and blinking into unconsciousness.Â
It's late into the next morning that she awakens, roused only by a worsening profound chill and ache of sickness. She should have known better: contact is the only way to alleviate this malaise. Rising to enter the living room (and fending off the blur of vertigo), she raises a hand to shield her gaze from the pastel orange of sun that lifts over the wall, hoping to find the other one who lives with her lounging about. A shiver passes through her, and she wraps her arms around herself. Since he is partial to touch, he would certainly offer a hand, and...Â
He's not awake, but his cloak still hangs upon the hook next to the door. Inspecting the kitchen reveals that no meals has been made for the morning, either. Narrowing her eyes, she searches the bleariness of her memory of returning the night before, stuporous and shivering with illness, to discover that nothing has changed-- including the exact way in which his cloak hangs. Somnus is still here, and he has not yet risen from his room.Â
(At this, she recalls seeing him at the wall although they did not interact. How he had a strange power to vanish entire bricks and boulders into nothing, only to summon them with a flash of light to place them wherever they were needed.)Â
She knocks on his door. Nothing. She knocks again-- nothing, still. Steeling herself, she opens and enters, finding him lying upon his bed, forehead clammy, skin flushed, ... and breathing uneven. ]Â
Somnus! [ His name is a worried whisper beneath her breath as she quickly reaches for his hand. Out of all of those who had fallen ill and had been escorted to the medical tent, he looks considerably worse than them all. ]
[Normally when it's time for training, Pyra is most likely the first to arrive and wait on Noctis; this time, he's already there when she reaches the outer grounds of Rawna's temple. He doesn't appear to be doing anything conducive to training yet; rather, he is sprawled out in the grass just off the path, in a little corner out of the way. His eyes are closed, hands folded neatly over his stomach, and he... might be asleep?]
[ Whether truly asleep or extremely tired and dozing, spotting him resting there brings a small smile to her lips. With his eyes closed, he will not be able to see the brief, fond look she gives him before approaching quietly. If he's this tired, she wonders if he might be up for one of their regular training sessions; that decision will be up to him, however.
When she comes near him, Pyra kneels beside him upon the grass, a hand going to his shoulder softly so as to not jostle him from his rest. She leans forward. ] Noct...?
[ ....
If he's actually awake, he'll hear the shutter of a camera going off: she's taken a picture of him resting. Cute! ]
[ Inevitability had never struck her as so unpredictable as it did until now, where the culmination of what she feels for him had turned into a want to express that feeling for him... and he reciprocated, where in turn she did the same, and the rest had turned into a cascade, unstoppable as if it had been meant to be.
It's hands and heat, fingers through hair and nails gently raking over skin, the push and pull of each other, quiet gasps and sweat, silent pants swallowed by kisses, sensation and sounds that are only theirs that eventually will herald their togetherness. It's the energy, electrified and excited within her, that serves as a quickening and fluttering heart with whatever he does in return, hands, legs, him, him, his voice, his lips, all of him, over her, moving with her, then in her. Passion takes her quickly, but knowing that she is in the arms of someone she trusts, safe and secure and with someone who will not harm her, she gives in.
She's gentle despite this passion, mindful but swayed by these physical needs, to hold him, grasp him, whisper his name to his ear, to return each sensation he's giving her in return, sensual and loving. But that's not all. With a connection forged between them, he will feel all that she she is feeling, the appreciation, the adoration, the warmth, the fondness, the wonder she has for him. More: the want to respect him and to please him, to pleasure him, to be tender with him, to caress him, to tell him all of this; the want of hers to make his time here as peaceful as possible, as wonderful as possible, the want for him, the want to reassure him that he is valued, to give what she can back to him. He's incredible, he's overwhelming, he stays attuned to her, and she to him, just as their dance before; together, they are one.
For he's made her feel safe, he's made her feel wanted, he's accepted her, and if she were to allow herself to believe it since he has not spoken it, he's made her feel loved, beautiful, human. She wants to give all of this to him in return not because of some debt, but because, selfishly, she wants to. She wants to be the one to give him these things, she wants him to be happy. She wants to love him in all ways, every way, until they must part.
For now, they do not need to part. She does not want to part. They can have this, just for this moment.
Breathless she lies beneath him, chest rising and falling against his with her arms about his neck and the glow of her crystal dancing in his eyes. Her hand comes forward over his shoulder, moving to caress his cheek, saying nothing as she catches a breath she does not even need. She then moves those same fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time this evening, massaging through the longer, dark strands over his scalp. Â When she closes her eyes, she feels him over her, around her, with her. When she opens them, she knows it is no mere dream that he is all of these things and more.
Pyra smiles but doesn't speak, cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, body flush with his own, gazing at him, his eyes, his lips, then his eyes again. Â There's that profound tightness within her chest again, thrumming and strong enough that she mistakes it for an actual heartbeat; she swallows, knowing this feeling by now to identify it easily-- love. It's love. It's a love she shouldn't have, but have it, she does.
She kisses his lips, saying his name again before she parts to smile up at him. ]
[ Finally, after all those months of lying and taking, he takes and gives at once.
In the end, it’s an exhausting sort of pleasure—not entirely foreign, yet under circumstances so wildly different from the last that the experiences are incomparable. Nor should they be. Somnus won’t disrespect his queen or Pyra in that way. But right now, it’s Pyra and her worldly presence that beckon for his attention.
He dozes for the briefest moment when her warmth and movement draw him back to the moment. His eyes slide shut and open again at the chaste kiss, and this time they stay open as he drapes an arm over her back.
Even after she learned that he was king, she continued to use his name. She still uses it, never referring to him with a title. And she says it with such love in her eyes and voice that he becomes acutely aware of the beating of his heart.
Here, in this very moment, it's just them. Perhaps it's sinful to think that way. Even so, he feels a lull in his mind that he hasn't felt in millennia—so long that he's all but forgotten until now. This, he thinks, is what it feels to be at peace. It's a peace so wondrous that he almost dares not to speak lest he shatter it with his voice.
The drowsiness is part of it. However, the absence of tension in his face is owed largely to her presence as he watches her with a look that's neither penetrating nor appraising, but thoughtful and attentive. ]
Pyra.
[ He returns the call at last, saying her name with no haste. It's not her true name, to say nothing of Mythra. But it's a name that belongs to her and tethers her to the mortal realm, and for that reason alone he treats it with reverence. ]
[ The text is unexpected. She reads it thrice over before she responds.
Leaving this house would mean leaving what she had here behind, whatever it had been, with someone not of her world. They had purchased this house not out of a want for more room, but because it had a yard for a falcon and a space for an amateur garden. That had been the only reasons. It makes her wonder what she had at all.
Moving to a new residence may mean more opportunities to engage in contact. This is the cardinal reason to agree... but she cannot deny that she wants to not be alone, even if all instinct points to that she ought to be. These emotions are a vice into which she all too easily succumbs. ]
[On the evening after Ardyn's visit, the front room is in a state of somewhat disarray; it's by no means a huge mess, but it is scattered between the kitchen and living room areas. On the table, two wine glasses have been abandoned alongside a plate of untouched tarts, a full kettle on the stove with mugs for tea left unmade, and no dinner either ready or in-progress, despite Noctis implying earlier through the comms that he'd have something done. There's a drained bottle of what was once wine on the coffee table, and on the couch-
-Noctis is curled up haphazardly on one side, one leg hanging off the edge and an arm wrapped tightly around the cushion he's clutching, one side of his face pressed against it in a way that's likely to leave a pattern. He's breathing steady but dead asleep, and Umbra is curled up next to him, head and a single paw resting on Noct's thigh. The dog wags his tail at Pyra as she arrives home, but neither move otherwise.]
[ Just what has he gotten up to by himself, she wonders? Or, no, not by himself: spotting the two wine glasses, she deduces that he must have had company. Warm company at that, if he had brought out two tarts for him and his guest. Spotting Umbra, she smiles and nods to the Messenger. Pyra presses a fingers to her lips, as if in promise that she will do her best to not wake him as she makes her way over.
It's nice to return to a house with another in it, even if they are fast asleep upon a couch. But since it is late and he's slumbering, Prompto may be returning soon and with hunger. She'll need the kitchen to make a dinner, which means it would be best to relocate the young king to his room to avoid startling him with excess noise.
Crouching next to the couch, she pauses as she looks over him. A peaceful expression, perfectly serene in slumber greets her back-- it is a far cry from all the emotional stress (and distress) he's been through lately. A small pinpoint of guilt pricks at the back of her neck, as if an archer holds the greater part of the arrow pulled back taut... ]
Mm... Noct? [ It's a small touch upon her shoulder, just gauging how deeply he's sleeping. If he's completely gone, she'll be scooping him up. If not, she'll rustle him a little more. ]
[After falling asleep the night before, Noctis enjoys an uninterrupted sleep for the first time in... probably quite a while, if he were to be honest with himself. It's not as if nightmares are a daily event, but it's rare that the night gives him much peace the whole way through, even in a world with no daemons to ambush him or invade his dreams, even with Carbuncle to chase away the dark. Today, though, he begins to stir some time in early morning, feeling surprisingly rested. Last night... he had a good dream, warm and sweet and beautiful, a blessing of soft, familiar hands and smiling lips, hair tickling his cheeks, fingers entwined. He tries to hold on to it, lest it slip away into oblivion. A very, very good dream, but there's no way it could have been real.
It feels later than it is. Usually he wakes late enough to feel the sunlight on his bed through the window, and there's a warmth beside him that feels like that, so he subconsciously shifts closer to it, rolling from his back to his side and reaching out to grasp at the sun-soaked comforter to draw it around himself-
-but his hand touches unfamiliar fabric and bare skin instead, making him pause before his fingers curl too tightly or pull. A faint, confused noise escapes his lips, half-muffled against the pillow.]
[ She had awakened before him, but hadn't moved from her spot so as to not disturb him. It seems her choice had been good, because now he seems to be awakening in just the slow way she had hoped, instead of a startle that would have likely happened had she clumsily made her way from his bed.
...This is what he's like in the early, waking hours of the morning. He looks-- at peace, again. Content. It had been for those two things that she dared not move from him sooner, not even to start preparing breakfast.
Her hand lifts to his shoulder, warm and light with her touch. She leans in to speak, her leg bumping slightly against his and her chest pressing against him. Softening her voice to a whisper, she greets him. ] Noct...?
[ He's here. She's holding him. He's holding her. This is one of the most wonderful things she's ever experienced-- ah. There's that word again, wonderful. How many times will she use it this day? Pyra doesn't need her foresight to predict this answer: too many to count, because wonderful is what he is, and she has gotten to see that wonderfulness as soon as she woke up this morning. ] Good morning.
[ During an afternoon like any other when he returns, he'll find her just about to exit the front door. She pauses to look at him, her arm still awkwardly half-extended to reach for the handle. Now that he's standing there, she's going to use that same motion to reach for his hand, provided that he's not carrying anything, and guide him in.
She smiles-- ]
Oh--....Noct!
[ --and although she smiles, there is a stiffness in her touch, as if she's nervous about something. ] You're just who I wanted to see.
[ Well, okay, perhaps not so soon. Her plan had been to go to the Affurgato and ask a fiend for some specialty, quality ingredients so she could bake another cheesecake for him. Why? Because... well, it's about time he's been introduced to her other self, but to get there, it might involve something she's not sure he's ready for.
The cheesecake would be a gesture to show there's no harmed feelings, should he refuse. ]
[He blinks back at her, accepting her hand and letting her guide him inside without hesitation, but after a moment her nervousness is passed along to him. He can feel it in her body language, and subtly see in her expression, and it makes him immediately worried.]
Is, uh. Something wrong?
[She was looking for him. Did he do something wrong?]
[ This candy tastes like plastic, and its artificial sweetness does nothing to distract the chalky taste this tour guide's lecture leaves her. Welcome to Havenwell, blah blah blah, touch gives energy our barrier and gods, blah blah bullshit-- okay, yeah, she gets it. No way back yet, that sucks. Everyone that's flesh is from another world, don't go near the barrier, it's dangerous outside it. They've been brought here to save this one, it's a great and profound task. Okay.
There's someone else on this tour of the city with her, another otherworlder. Someone with obnoxiously styled black hair, and someone, like her, who's somehow been assigned to Rawna.
He'll receive a nudge at his arm from her elbow. ] Hey.
[This sucked. Like, all of it. As if his life wasn't messy and busy enough already, now he's been yanked into some kind of strange new world with no one he knows, while a bunch of robots gush about how great they are that they've come here to save the world. As if they had a choice.
He's the Chosen for his own world already, and he has homework due, dammit.
He's already annoyed, bored, and ready to bail the second someone stops looking long enough to let him test whether or not his warp is working today (odds are heavy in the "no" column, but it'd be worth the attempt) when the woman who'd been walking with them catches his attention. He blinks at her offer, and without even thinking twice, he nods. He doesn't have to know her to know he wants to hang with her more than this.]
[ Atop one of the buildings near Rawna's temple, she finds him sitting near the edge and looking out at the cityscape. He'll hear her approach, for she's not being discrete or trying to startle him-- but her introduction comes with a gentle hand upon his shoulder, warm and tender, and accompanied by a squeeze. ]
Found you.
[ It's evening, and the projected sun cast upon the barrier is already beginning to turn the sky golden. ]
...Need some company?
[ The events of the previous month are fresh in her mind. She had met someone from her world, yet while that person had returned to Alrest, there is someone from Eos who has stayed. Ignis now lives with them, and she's already heard that Luna has returned.
He's been carrying himself as if he has something more weighted upon his mind. Perhaps... their presences, while well-received, had also marked an onset of bittersweetness for him. She can imagine why, too.
...
Or, maybe just a little bit of why, because he is always one to not reveal much. Which is why she's willing to listen. ]
[He glances over as she makes contact, smiling faintly. He lifts his hand to curl around the one on his shoulder, using it to gently tug her down to sit beside him, so he can easily hold it instead.]
With you, always.
[He likes his alone time just fine, but he won't pretend that her presence isn't welcome in his life; it is instead both precious and comforting. And he's been kind of... well. Probably very obvious in his sporadic discomfort the past several days. He can't blame her for checking in on him.]
[ Ignis doesn't know how Noctis had gotten hurt in the first place, which is troubling him, he wasn't told much else. This place has been more or less safe, though a bit weird at times. The people that live here seem friendly enough.
He's on the couch, leaning forward a bit. He's already worried about Prompto's illness and the way how he'd found the blond out in the cold like that. Sleepwalking. He had been keeping an eye on his friend as best as he can without his eyesight. Now Noct's been hurt, how badly, he doesn't know. But it was enough to get him into bed right away. His worried factor went up by a lot.
Those two will be the death of him, he swears.
He can't sit still like this, so he gets up and moves to the kitchen, pulling out what he needs for the soup first. The desserts can wait for later. Soup for Prompto and the desserts for Noctis. Quietly, he gets what he needs out on the stovetop and putters around for the ingredients, which takes a little more time than he's used to, but he's gotten better in the kitchen regardless.
His ears pick up on someone moving around, Prompto's sick so he shouldn't be up and Noctis should be sleeping himself. ]
... Pyra? [ He calls over his shoulder, just the person that he wants to talk to. ]
[ She emerges from their room in the morning, hair disheveled, weariness and guilt upon her expression, but taking a moment to pause after she shuts their door to lean against it and exhale, collecting herself. The worst is over-- he thinks. Noctis is still recovering, and what he needs now is sleep, rest, and perhaps... being apart from her presence, the one who had hurt him.
Opening her eyes, only then does she spot Ignis, and she blinks once, moving forward. ] Ignis...
[ Guilt ricochets across her mind once more. The previous night, she had quickly brought Noctis to their room without much explanation. There hadn't been enough time. That doesn't mean she can't sympathize with any worry Ignis might have had in the hours he had been left in the dark. She's impressed that he appears so calm.
She steps into the kitchen, moving to stand opposite of the counter. Another inhale, shaky and soft, follows the pause, and she lifts her head to watch him as he works, unsure for a few moments of where just to begin. ]
...He's.... resting. [ There. A start. ] Recovering.
[ Upon the countertop, her fingers curl inward. ] I suppose you want an explanation, don't you?
[ She has to double check the username/number/whateveritis because it's been some time since she's seen or heard from him. She's happy to have received this message. ]
Nico!
Oh, of course! Tell me where, and I'll meet you. :)
[ With only some knowledge of what had been happening, Honerva had dropped by Noctis and Pyra and all else who called that house their home to visit with the ill Prompto for a bit.
Afterward, she'll seek Pyra, to see if she wants to go for a short walk. Not necessarily under the pretense of work, either; she knows how it can be a strain having those to look after in the household with little cause for a break. ]
[ She's hesitant to go for a walk or be further away from Noctis, so soon after the Fetter almost killed him, that she refuses.
Still, fresh air would be nice for someone who's been indoors most of this entire time. They'll have to stay in their backyard instead. ] The cold doesn't bother you?
[ As Honerva is their guest, she hands her a cup a hot tea, and then she sits upon the step of their porch that overlooks the snow-covered garden. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action; during the november event log
Dressed in his tunic, he lies on his side with the covers haphazardly pushed down to the level of his waist. Breathing that is just labored enough to be audible up close accompanies the noticeable rise and fall of his chest. Stray strands of hair cling to the flushed skin of his slack face as he slumbers through his body's inflammatory response, oblivious to the sickness circulating within.
Ordinarily, he would rise with the dawn to begin his contribution to the city at once. Today, he shows no sign of rousing even now. His door stays closed, never opening for his departure. ]
ayy
Being near the wall and the barrier, however, has taken its toll upon her, physically and mentally, and while throughout the day she had been careful to rest and seek out touch to stave off the mysterious illness, by twilight she finds herself wandering back to her residence for want of sleep. Which she does eventually do, collapsing onto her bed and blinking into unconsciousness.Â
It's late into the next morning that she awakens, roused only by a worsening profound chill and ache of sickness. She should have known better: contact is the only way to alleviate this malaise. Rising to enter the living room (and fending off the blur of vertigo), she raises a hand to shield her gaze from the pastel orange of sun that lifts over the wall, hoping to find the other one who lives with her lounging about. A shiver passes through her, and she wraps her arms around herself. Since he is partial to touch, he would certainly offer a hand, and...Â
He's not awake, but his cloak still hangs upon the hook next to the door. Inspecting the kitchen reveals that no meals has been made for the morning, either. Narrowing her eyes, she searches the bleariness of her memory of returning the night before, stuporous and shivering with illness, to discover that nothing has changed-- including the exact way in which his cloak hangs. Somnus is still here, and he has not yet risen from his room.Â
(At this, she recalls seeing him at the wall although they did not interact. How he had a strange power to vanish entire bricks and boulders into nothing, only to summon them with a flash of light to place them wherever they were needed.)Â
She knocks on his door. Nothing. She knocks again-- nothing, still. Steeling herself, she opens and enters, finding him lying upon his bed, forehead clammy, skin flushed, ... and breathing uneven. ]Â
Somnus! [ His name is a worried whisper beneath her breath as she quickly reaches for his hand. Out of all of those who had fallen ill and had been escorted to the medical tent, he looks considerably worse than them all. ]
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text; about a week or so after That Thing Happened
hey question 4 u
give me ur thoughts on dragons
Permatext
Dragons.... ]
:O !
I love them!
Especially big ones!
Why do you ask?
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text.
May I have your clothing measurements?
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???
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vague post-event timeline go here;
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When she comes near him, Pyra kneels beside him upon the grass, a hand going to his shoulder softly so as to not jostle him from his rest. She leans forward. ] Noct...?
[ ....
If he's actually awake, he'll hear the shutter of a camera going off: she's taken a picture of him resting. Cute! ]
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around mid-month
Hey. Got some time to talk?
[It can't be called unfriendly, exactly, but he's not using the kind of tone he'd normally use with her. More neutral, serious.]
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[ She picks up on his tone, concerned. ] Is something wrong?
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text; whoops here i am again
[Ways to tell something's wrong: Noctis using full words and sentences in a text.]
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Definitely something is wrong. ] Alright. [ After a moment, she sends another text: ]
May I ask if something is wrong? Do you need anything?
[ If he doesn't want to train, he doesn't want to train! But she cannot help but ask just in case. ]
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cw some nsfw
It's hands and heat, fingers through hair and nails gently raking over skin, the push and pull of each other, quiet gasps and sweat, silent pants swallowed by kisses, sensation and sounds that are only theirs that eventually will herald their togetherness. It's the energy, electrified and excited within her, that serves as a quickening and fluttering heart with whatever he does in return, hands, legs, him, him, his voice, his lips, all of him, over her, moving with her, then in her. Passion takes her quickly, but knowing that she is in the arms of someone she trusts, safe and secure and with someone who will not harm her, she gives in.
She's gentle despite this passion, mindful but swayed by these physical needs, to hold him, grasp him, whisper his name to his ear, to return each sensation he's giving her in return, sensual and loving. But that's not all. With a connection forged between them, he will feel all that she she is feeling, the appreciation, the adoration, the warmth, the fondness, the wonder she has for him. More: the want to respect him and to please him, to pleasure him, to be tender with him, to caress him, to tell him all of this; the want of hers to make his time here as peaceful as possible, as wonderful as possible, the want for him, the want to reassure him that he is valued, to give what she can back to him. He's incredible, he's overwhelming, he stays attuned to her, and she to him, just as their dance before; together, they are one.
For he's made her feel safe, he's made her feel wanted, he's accepted her, and if she were to allow herself to believe it since he has not spoken it, he's made her feel loved, beautiful, human. She wants to give all of this to him in return not because of some debt, but because, selfishly, she wants to. She wants to be the one to give him these things, she wants him to be happy. She wants to love him in all ways, every way, until they must part.
For now, they do not need to part. She does not want to part. They can have this, just for this moment.
Breathless she lies beneath him, chest rising and falling against his with her arms about his neck and the glow of her crystal dancing in his eyes. Her hand comes forward over his shoulder, moving to caress his cheek, saying nothing as she catches a breath she does not even need. She then moves those same fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time this evening, massaging through the longer, dark strands over his scalp. Â When she closes her eyes, she feels him over her, around her, with her. When she opens them, she knows it is no mere dream that he is all of these things and more.
Pyra smiles but doesn't speak, cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, body flush with his own, gazing at him, his eyes, his lips, then his eyes again. Â There's that profound tightness within her chest again, thrumming and strong enough that she mistakes it for an actual heartbeat; she swallows, knowing this feeling by now to identify it easily-- love. It's love. It's a love she shouldn't have, but have it, she does.
She kisses his lips, saying his name again before she parts to smile up at him. ]
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In the end, it’s an exhausting sort of pleasure—not entirely foreign, yet under circumstances so wildly different from the last that the experiences are incomparable. Nor should they be. Somnus won’t disrespect his queen or Pyra in that way. But right now, it’s Pyra and her worldly presence that beckon for his attention.
He dozes for the briefest moment when her warmth and movement draw him back to the moment. His eyes slide shut and open again at the chaste kiss, and this time they stay open as he drapes an arm over her back.
Even after she learned that he was king, she continued to use his name. She still uses it, never referring to him with a title. And she says it with such love in her eyes and voice that he becomes acutely aware of the beating of his heart.
Here, in this very moment, it's just them. Perhaps it's sinful to think that way. Even so, he feels a lull in his mind that he hasn't felt in millennia—so long that he's all but forgotten until now. This, he thinks, is what it feels to be at peace. It's a peace so wondrous that he almost dares not to speak lest he shatter it with his voice.
The drowsiness is part of it. However, the absence of tension in his face is owed largely to her presence as he watches her with a look that's neither penetrating nor appraising, but thoughtful and attentive. ]
Pyra.
[ He returns the call at last, saying her name with no haste. It's not her true name, to say nothing of Mythra. But it's a name that belongs to her and tethers her to the mortal realm, and for that reason alone he treats it with reverence. ]
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text; the night of the post-somnus talk
no pressure or anything but if u want to move here we've got space
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Leaving this house would mean leaving what she had here behind, whatever it had been, with someone not of her world. They had purchased this house not out of a want for more room, but because it had a yard for a falcon and a space for an amateur garden. That had been the only reasons. It makes her wonder what she had at all.
Moving to a new residence may mean more opportunities to engage in contact. This is the cardinal reason to agree... but she cannot deny that she wants to not be alone, even if all instinct points to that she ought to be. These emotions are a vice into which she all too easily succumbs. ]
Are you sure that would be fine?
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action; around 5/25
-Noctis is curled up haphazardly on one side, one leg hanging off the edge and an arm wrapped tightly around the cushion he's clutching, one side of his face pressed against it in a way that's likely to leave a pattern. He's breathing steady but dead asleep, and Umbra is curled up next to him, head and a single paw resting on Noct's thigh. The dog wags his tail at Pyra as she arrives home, but neither move otherwise.]
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It's nice to return to a house with another in it, even if they are fast asleep upon a couch. But since it is late and he's slumbering, Prompto may be returning soon and with hunger. She'll need the kitchen to make a dinner, which means it would be best to relocate the young king to his room to avoid startling him with excess noise.
Crouching next to the couch, she pauses as she looks over him. A peaceful expression, perfectly serene in slumber greets her back-- it is a far cry from all the emotional stress (and distress) he's been through lately. A small pinpoint of guilt pricks at the back of her neck, as if an archer holds the greater part of the arrow pulled back taut... ]
Mm... Noct? [ It's a small touch upon her shoulder, just gauging how deeply he's sleeping. If he's completely gone, she'll be scooping him up. If not, she'll rustle him a little more. ]
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around 5/25, a continuation
It feels later than it is. Usually he wakes late enough to feel the sunlight on his bed through the window, and there's a warmth beside him that feels like that, so he subconsciously shifts closer to it, rolling from his back to his side and reaching out to grasp at the sun-soaked comforter to draw it around himself-
-but his hand touches unfamiliar fabric and bare skin instead, making him pause before his fingers curl too tightly or pull. A faint, confused noise escapes his lips, half-muffled against the pillow.]
Mmrgh?
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...This is what he's like in the early, waking hours of the morning. He looks-- at peace, again. Content. It had been for those two things that she dared not move from him sooner, not even to start preparing breakfast.
Her hand lifts to his shoulder, warm and light with her touch. She leans in to speak, her leg bumping slightly against his and her chest pressing against him. Softening her voice to a whisper, she greets him. ] Noct...?
[ He's here. She's holding him. He's holding her. This is one of the most wonderful things she's ever experienced-- ah. There's that word again, wonderful. How many times will she use it this day? Pyra doesn't need her foresight to predict this answer: too many to count, because wonderful is what he is, and she has gotten to see that wonderfulness as soon as she woke up this morning. ] Good morning.
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for noctis
She smiles-- ]
Oh--....Noct!
[ --and although she smiles, there is a stiffness in her touch, as if she's nervous about something. ] You're just who I wanted to see.
[ Well, okay, perhaps not so soon. Her plan had been to go to the Affurgato and ask a fiend for some specialty, quality ingredients so she could bake another cheesecake for him. Why? Because... well, it's about time he's been introduced to her other self, but to get there, it might involve something she's not sure he's ready for.
The cheesecake would be a gesture to show there's no harmed feelings, should he refuse. ]
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Is, uh. Something wrong?
[She was looking for him. Did he do something wrong?]
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For noctis [backdated to may event]
There's someone else on this tour of the city with her, another otherworlder. Someone with obnoxiously styled black hair, and someone, like her, who's somehow been assigned to Rawna.
He'll receive a nudge at his arm from her elbow. ] Hey.
I'm bailing. You with me?
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He's the Chosen for his own world already, and he has homework due, dammit.
He's already annoyed, bored, and ready to bail the second someone stops looking long enough to let him test whether or not his warp is working today (odds are heavy in the "no" column, but it'd be worth the attempt) when the woman who'd been walking with them catches his attention. He blinks at her offer, and without even thinking twice, he nods. He doesn't have to know her to know he wants to hang with her more than this.]
I'm in. Think they'd let us?
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3/4 actually
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for noctis agaaaaain
Found you.
[ It's evening, and the projected sun cast upon the barrier is already beginning to turn the sky golden. ]
...Need some company?
[ The events of the previous month are fresh in her mind. She had met someone from her world, yet while that person had returned to Alrest, there is someone from Eos who has stayed. Ignis now lives with them, and she's already heard that Luna has returned.
He's been carrying himself as if he has something more weighted upon his mind. Perhaps... their presences, while well-received, had also marked an onset of bittersweetness for him. She can imagine why, too.
...
Or, maybe just a little bit of why, because he is always one to not reveal much. Which is why she's willing to listen. ]
eyyyy
With you, always.
[He likes his alone time just fine, but he won't pretend that her presence isn't welcome in his life; it is instead both precious and comforting. And he's been kind of... well. Probably very obvious in his sporadic discomfort the past several days. He can't blame her for checking in on him.]
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Backdated to Dec. 30th!
He's on the couch, leaning forward a bit. He's already worried about Prompto's illness and the way how he'd found the blond out in the cold like that. Sleepwalking. He had been keeping an eye on his friend as best as he can without his eyesight. Now Noct's been hurt, how badly, he doesn't know. But it was enough to get him into bed right away. His worried factor went up by a lot.
Those two will be the death of him, he swears.
He can't sit still like this, so he gets up and moves to the kitchen, pulling out what he needs for the soup first. The desserts can wait for later. Soup for Prompto and the desserts for Noctis. Quietly, he gets what he needs out on the stovetop and putters around for the ingredients, which takes a little more time than he's used to, but he's gotten better in the kitchen regardless.
His ears pick up on someone moving around, Prompto's sick so he shouldn't be up and Noctis should be sleeping himself. ]
... Pyra? [ He calls over his shoulder, just the person that he wants to talk to. ]
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Opening her eyes, only then does she spot Ignis, and she blinks once, moving forward. ] Ignis...
[ Guilt ricochets across her mind once more. The previous night, she had quickly brought Noctis to their room without much explanation. There hadn't been enough time. That doesn't mean she can't sympathize with any worry Ignis might have had in the hours he had been left in the dark. She's impressed that he appears so calm.
She steps into the kitchen, moving to stand opposite of the counter. Another inhale, shaky and soft, follows the pause, and she lifts her head to watch him as he works, unsure for a few moments of where just to begin. ]
...He's.... resting. [ There. A start. ] Recovering.
[ Upon the countertop, her fingers curl inward. ] I suppose you want an explanation, don't you?
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Nico!
Oh, of course! Tell me where, and I'll meet you. :)
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around the new year-post fetter incident
Afterward, she'll seek Pyra, to see if she wants to go for a short walk. Not necessarily under the pretense of work, either; she knows how it can be a strain having those to look after in the household with little cause for a break. ]
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Still, fresh air would be nice for someone who's been indoors most of this entire time. They'll have to stay in their backyard instead. ] The cold doesn't bother you?
[ As Honerva is their guest, she hands her a cup a hot tea, and then she sits upon the step of their porch that overlooks the snow-covered garden. ]
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