![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ She takes the hand that he lifts to her, supporting it in her own. His hands are no more calloused than usual, but no softer either. He's been keeping up with his training. She imagines that there are no more scars upon him than what she had seen before. In the trial that awaits if he ever finds a way to him homeworld, she wonders if he'll have any more if he should return...
She watches him close his eyes. Perhaps he is about to sleep; it's likely he knows he, too, is about to drift into sleep, but he seems that he has no current complaints. In the moments that follow she is quiet, not disturbing him as he rests his eyes.
Then, softly, almost as if to test if sleep has finally take him or if he is merely on the cusp, she whispers: ]
...There is a... proverb in my world, that I wish to share with you.
[ If or if not he sleeps, if or if not he stirs or responds, she waits. ]
She watches him close his eyes. Perhaps he is about to sleep; it's likely he knows he, too, is about to drift into sleep, but he seems that he has no current complaints. In the moments that follow she is quiet, not disturbing him as he rests his eyes.
Then, softly, almost as if to test if sleep has finally take him or if he is merely on the cusp, she whispers: ]
...There is a... proverb in my world, that I wish to share with you.
[ If or if not he sleeps, if or if not he stirs or responds, she waits. ]
[ 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. ]
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. ]
[ Her touch becomes slower over his forehead, the warmth of her fingertips not unlike the lazy descent of an afternoon tide. She had purposely waited for the exact moment he might be on the precipice of drifting off to sleep, for perhaps there would be a chance he might not remember these words, this secret. Perhaps he would think that this is some sort of dream. She won't know. A part of her wants him to hear. Another part does not. Thus in her hesitation, her stalling still, she will leave it be to chance whether he will recall these final words before his own dreams take him.
In a whisper that is no greater than a pindrop, she utters, ]
Iustorum autem [ Her fingers trail back to his forehead-- ] ...semita [ --then stroke to the side of his head-- ] ...quasi lux splendens... [ --and finally back to his bangs. ]
The path of the righteous is as the light of dawn. [ There is more to this proverb, but she ends it there.
It's always struck her as peculiar, how the names of his world seem to share similarities to a dead language from the first version of her universe. Hearing their names brings her such quiet nostalgia, often times. It's part of the reason why she smiles why she greets them, why she says their names so often.
This proverb is written upon her. For the future, a reminder where she belongs. But she thinks-- she thinks this might apply to him, too. Whatever he does, however he does it-- it will be righteous so long as it brings about that dawn in the future for all to have. And while her own world is not shrouded in an eternal night, she, too, seeks a dawn where others might see it. ]
In a whisper that is no greater than a pindrop, she utters, ]
Iustorum autem [ Her fingers trail back to his forehead-- ] ...semita [ --then stroke to the side of his head-- ] ...quasi lux splendens... [ --and finally back to his bangs. ]
The path of the righteous is as the light of dawn. [ There is more to this proverb, but she ends it there.
It's always struck her as peculiar, how the names of his world seem to share similarities to a dead language from the first version of her universe. Hearing their names brings her such quiet nostalgia, often times. It's part of the reason why she smiles why she greets them, why she says their names so often.
This proverb is written upon her. For the future, a reminder where she belongs. But she thinks-- she thinks this might apply to him, too. Whatever he does, however he does it-- it will be righteous so long as it brings about that dawn in the future for all to have. And while her own world is not shrouded in an eternal night, she, too, seeks a dawn where others might see it. ]
Mm... familiar.
[He too finds it peculiar, but is too sleepy in this state to truly unpack it. Whether he remembers it or not later is a mixed bag, but for the moment, the words are... very curious. If the memory sticks he can ask her later.
He's quiet for a long moment again, half-dozing, but manages to rouse himself one last time at the last second to ask, softly,]
Will you be here?
[Maybe... it's okay to sleep, if he doesn't wake up alone again. Just for a little while.]
[He too finds it peculiar, but is too sleepy in this state to truly unpack it. Whether he remembers it or not later is a mixed bag, but for the moment, the words are... very curious. If the memory sticks he can ask her later.
He's quiet for a long moment again, half-dozing, but manages to rouse himself one last time at the last second to ask, softly,]
Will you be here?
[Maybe... it's okay to sleep, if he doesn't wake up alone again. Just for a little while.]
[ At last, silence prevails. Her gaze raises from Noctis to his father, then up to the window that allows some modest light.
She will wait until he wakes, and when he does, only then will she leave for him to resume his watch until he's relieved. ]
She will wait until he wakes, and when he does, only then will she leave for him to resume his watch until he's relieved. ]
[ Holding his warm presence to her feels as if she is attempting to cling to a cloud. It feels surreal, as if never in years, centuries, millennia, could she have imagined something like this. It feels fleeting, it is fleeting, and she knows the fragility of their presence together cannot last. If she holds him too tightly, he might disperse. If she does not hold him at all, he might escape from between her fingers. Like light made into mist, the transience of this moment can only be held within memories and nothing more. The urgency to remain here spikes, then diminishes with another sigh. She keeps her touch soft but secure, one hand pulling her body against his, the other falling to his shoulder as she rests against him, breathing in deeply, basking in the warmth of the hazy, languid afterglow.
Never has he seemed so relaxed against her. It's as if he's found something he's never had. She hopes he's found something he's never had with her. She hopes she had been the one to give him it, a contentedness that she feels he should have all the right to experience for himself, regardless of duty or whatever the future holds; most importantly, she hopes that he allows himself to experience anything he feels without guilt...
It's the way he says her name with neither urgency nor haste, it is the gentle light in his eyes and betray a careful smile, that informs her that he has found a sliver of peace. This is all she has wanted for him, for him to feel safe and content and-- loved.
He seems tired. Of course he is, and lest she forget, she also wants what he wants, she wants to facilitate his desires. If that means rest, if that means sleep, then that is what she hopes he will have whether here or in his homeworld.
Thus Pyra tucks her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, whispering her last words of affection to him softly as shrine bells during the spring, I love you, then again, I love you, and finally, I love you, as if she might not ever speak them again. Is is like this that they drift into sleep. ]
Never has he seemed so relaxed against her. It's as if he's found something he's never had. She hopes he's found something he's never had with her. She hopes she had been the one to give him it, a contentedness that she feels he should have all the right to experience for himself, regardless of duty or whatever the future holds; most importantly, she hopes that he allows himself to experience anything he feels without guilt...
It's the way he says her name with neither urgency nor haste, it is the gentle light in his eyes and betray a careful smile, that informs her that he has found a sliver of peace. This is all she has wanted for him, for him to feel safe and content and-- loved.
He seems tired. Of course he is, and lest she forget, she also wants what he wants, she wants to facilitate his desires. If that means rest, if that means sleep, then that is what she hopes he will have whether here or in his homeworld.
Thus Pyra tucks her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, whispering her last words of affection to him softly as shrine bells during the spring, I love you, then again, I love you, and finally, I love you, as if she might not ever speak them again. Is is like this that they drift into sleep. ]
[ 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. ]
Are you sure that would be fine?
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?
[ And Horus doesn’t mind Noctis, she knows. She could also introduce Prompto to him as well...
She’s certain that if she’d ask Noctis what to do with the sylleblossoms and juniberries, he’d say yes to having them, too.
Which brings her next question to— why is he offering this? ]
You are so incredibly kind.
[ Why. ]
She’s certain that if she’d ask Noctis what to do with the sylleblossoms and juniberries, he’d say yes to having them, too.
Which brings her next question to— why is he offering this? ]
You are so incredibly kind.
[ Why. ]
[ This is. This is something. He’s just like this, kind. Thoughtful. It could make her break down right here and now, touched by it. How wonderful the world is, knowing that there are people like him are in it. She’s glad this is text.
This is also the most practical decision, overall, to make, and in the end that is what tides her over. ]
I accept.
This is also the most practical decision, overall, to make, and in the end that is what tides her over. ]
I accept.
[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.]
-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. ]
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. ]
[She's definitely going to need to do more, because he's incredibly out of it; her attempt at rousing him nets not even a flutter of the eyes. It does cause Umbra to rise up on all four paws and hop down off the couch, wandering away, leaving Noctis in her care. The fact that Noct doesn't so much as stir despite the jostling and the dog's movement ought to tell her just how gone he is right now. The most she gets, as she lifts him up, is a faint noise, muffled by his face pressed up against her shoulder. With his head so close to hers, she might catch a lingering whiff of the wine; he hasn't been asleep that long.
As they head down the hall together, he shifts and tries to get an arm around her shoulder to hug his new 'pillow' closer, so some untangling may be necessary before she can let him go.]
As they head down the hall together, he shifts and tries to get an arm around her shoulder to hug his new 'pillow' closer, so some untangling may be necessary before she can let him go.]
[ She scoops him up from the couch, one arm beneath his upper back, wrapping over to his side as, and the other beneath his knees. After a small hop to have him lean more against her, supporting his head by her shoulder, they're on their way. This house isn't so large that it will take minutes to cross, and she isn't so weak as to become weary from carrying him. She does note, though, that he's heavier than he seems-- not as lithe or light as she thought him to appear to be. He has weight, and beneath her fingertips she feels not softness but solid muscle. It's a reassuring thing, compared to how he had seemed a few months ago when awakening...
His stirring and cuddling closer to her causes her to break from her thoughts. Pyra looks down at him with a small, secretive smile, even if there is no need to steal glances at him as he sleeps. Like this, she's able to be happy for him that he appears so at peace. Far be it from her to ever break that peace upon his expression.
Turning carefully to allow herself space to open the door, she steps into his room. Later evening signifies deeper shadows within and waning light from the window. She doesn't see a portion of the throw blanket hanging off the corner of his bed, steeped in the shade of his room. Before she knows it, she trips over the cloth and falls unceremoniously onto the bed with him. The frame creaks beneath the bounce of their combined weight. ]
His stirring and cuddling closer to her causes her to break from her thoughts. Pyra looks down at him with a small, secretive smile, even if there is no need to steal glances at him as he sleeps. Like this, she's able to be happy for him that he appears so at peace. Far be it from her to ever break that peace upon his expression.
Turning carefully to allow herself space to open the door, she steps into his room. Later evening signifies deeper shadows within and waning light from the window. She doesn't see a portion of the throw blanket hanging off the corner of his bed, steeped in the shade of his room. Before she knows it, she trips over the cloth and falls unceremoniously onto the bed with him. The frame creaks beneath the bounce of their combined weight. ]
[The transport from one room to the next is peaceful enough that he doesn't stir much, merely nestles in and gets as comfortable as such a short span of time will allow. The fall however breaks him out of his nap, causing him to groan and flutter his eyes open. It isn't painful - not the drop, at least - but the unexpected weight on top of him shoves him from sleep to wakefulness much faster than a simple prodding might. He's had his share of abrupt wake-ups due to danger before, he knows when he's allowed to indulge and when it's time to move.
Even with all that, it still takes a few seconds to register exactly what he's dealing with. As the details come into view, he's surprised at first, as there isn't usually danger in a location like this- an interior bedroom? Wait- his bedroom. His focus is split suddenly by a dull ache in the back of his head, but it doesn't stop him from sleepily glancing down and finding a head of red hair currently faceplanted against his chest, half-pinned in place by his arm around the body beneath. A pair of legs lie entangled with his own.
That's... unusual.]
Huh?
[Yep, eloquent. Is he still drunk or dreaming? He feels slow and sluggish enough that it could really be either.]
Even with all that, it still takes a few seconds to register exactly what he's dealing with. As the details come into view, he's surprised at first, as there isn't usually danger in a location like this- an interior bedroom? Wait- his bedroom. His focus is split suddenly by a dull ache in the back of his head, but it doesn't stop him from sleepily glancing down and finding a head of red hair currently faceplanted against his chest, half-pinned in place by his arm around the body beneath. A pair of legs lie entangled with his own.
That's... unusual.]
Huh?
[Yep, eloquent. Is he still drunk or dreaming? He feels slow and sluggish enough that it could really be either.]
Page 21 of 51