[Her energy is soothing again, but not overwhelming or guiding in the way it normally is; a gentle push at his back, rather than a hand pulling him forward. He lets her support guide him through the steps of relaxing his mind and body- to breathe, yes, and to still his pounding heart. It doesn't have to hurt. Those voices, cacophonous and meshed, all belong to separate and sentient kings and queens of the past, rulers who lived and died doing the same thing he's been trying to do: protect Lucis, help the people, fight back against tyranny and war. To that extent, he understands them. They have that in common. And they, as people, surely must understand that he can't hear their voices if all he receives is noise. So he calls back to them, as calmly and quietly as his mind is capable. He calls their names, the ones he knows, or their titles for those he does not, those that have been lost to time.
I hear you. I want to hear you. Please help me.
Somnus. Dad. I'm here.
It's hard. He's impatient and temperamental, especially when in pain, and relaxation does not come easily to him. He shifts his position, his leg bending, stretching out, neck tilting from one side to the other. The noise persists, stubborn and resistant, and two thousand years of waiting is far too huge a weight to shed so easily. It waxes and wanes in volume, some groups of voices going quiet, others raised in volume. Frustrating. It's the same as it's gone before, any time that he tried before now, the only difference being that she's now here to witness and experience his failure. It makes him want to stop, not for the first time, to pull back and tear off the ring and curse it and himself for being such a poor match for one another. Some Chosen King. Can't even settle his council.
When her energy shifts he straightens his posture, attuned to it enough that he can feel it right away. Resistant at first, he stubbornly shoves himself towards following the path. What's there to lose? He's already tried to do this alone multiple times and has nothing to show for it. He'd asked her to help, and it would be absurd not to allow it. He sends his energy dancing out to echo the route she's weaving, find those strands, pick and poke at them experimentally. His magic feels confused, questioning at first. Music is not his gift, composing not his calling. He toys with the sounds anyway, trusting her and trying to piece it together like a puzzle, and the melody comes more easily than it would outside of this magic landscape they've created together.
The song is soft and sweeping, carrying with it an eagerness and energy that he longs to convey to them. A willingness to learn, if they can settle their shouting and guide him through the steps. An offer to listen, after thousands of years of exile and silence and too many souls crowded together into a singular noise. He doesn't know how many leaders of Lucis have done this, but for it to be this messy it can't have been very many. I'll give you a voice again, is his promise. You know who I am. You've waited so long, but I'm here now, I'm ready. I'll free you. Help me, and I'll help you. The music and the magic weave together as he toys with it and it is not pretty or elegant by any means, but it is undeniably him, and he finds himself smiling through it anyway.
And then, near the end, he strikes his hands across every strand at once, creating a wretched and chaotic noise of his own, because he has pettiness and anger to spare in his heart too, and they should know it. Everything that has been lost, everyone that died because of his failings, is conveyed in that sound. Every headache forced upon him from the gods, or the ring, or the voices echoing unprompted and unwanted into his mind, telling him what to do and who to be. He's cooperative. He's obedient. But the pain of it is terrible, and he fires it right back at them to remind them of it. They're hurting him, and he wants it to stop.
And that, in the end, is the final piece that solves the puzzle. A hush falls among the voices, slowly petering out into nothing, and the magic politely retracts itself, like the unclenching jaw of a dog that has been chided after biting someone. It pulls away and winds itself around the ring, coiled and ready, but not entirely gone, either. A hand lies outstretched between them, offered towards Noctis once he's prepared to move forward again. They understand, and they'll listen, too.
He exhales quietly, drained but kind of... excited? Not sure what might come of this, but eager to find out.]
no subject
I hear you. I want to hear you. Please help me.
Somnus. Dad. I'm here.
It's hard. He's impatient and temperamental, especially when in pain, and relaxation does not come easily to him. He shifts his position, his leg bending, stretching out, neck tilting from one side to the other. The noise persists, stubborn and resistant, and two thousand years of waiting is far too huge a weight to shed so easily. It waxes and wanes in volume, some groups of voices going quiet, others raised in volume. Frustrating. It's the same as it's gone before, any time that he tried before now, the only difference being that she's now here to witness and experience his failure. It makes him want to stop, not for the first time, to pull back and tear off the ring and curse it and himself for being such a poor match for one another. Some Chosen King. Can't even settle his council.
When her energy shifts he straightens his posture, attuned to it enough that he can feel it right away. Resistant at first, he stubbornly shoves himself towards following the path. What's there to lose? He's already tried to do this alone multiple times and has nothing to show for it. He'd asked her to help, and it would be absurd not to allow it. He sends his energy dancing out to echo the route she's weaving, find those strands, pick and poke at them experimentally. His magic feels confused, questioning at first. Music is not his gift, composing not his calling. He toys with the sounds anyway, trusting her and trying to piece it together like a puzzle, and the melody comes more easily than it would outside of this magic landscape they've created together.
The song is soft and sweeping, carrying with it an eagerness and energy that he longs to convey to them. A willingness to learn, if they can settle their shouting and guide him through the steps. An offer to listen, after thousands of years of exile and silence and too many souls crowded together into a singular noise. He doesn't know how many leaders of Lucis have done this, but for it to be this messy it can't have been very many. I'll give you a voice again, is his promise. You know who I am. You've waited so long, but I'm here now, I'm ready. I'll free you. Help me, and I'll help you. The music and the magic weave together as he toys with it and it is not pretty or elegant by any means, but it is undeniably him, and he finds himself smiling through it anyway.
And then, near the end, he strikes his hands across every strand at once, creating a wretched and chaotic noise of his own, because he has pettiness and anger to spare in his heart too, and they should know it. Everything that has been lost, everyone that died because of his failings, is conveyed in that sound. Every headache forced upon him from the gods, or the ring, or the voices echoing unprompted and unwanted into his mind, telling him what to do and who to be. He's cooperative. He's obedient. But the pain of it is terrible, and he fires it right back at them to remind them of it. They're hurting him, and he wants it to stop.
And that, in the end, is the final piece that solves the puzzle. A hush falls among the voices, slowly petering out into nothing, and the magic politely retracts itself, like the unclenching jaw of a dog that has been chided after biting someone. It pulls away and winds itself around the ring, coiled and ready, but not entirely gone, either. A hand lies outstretched between them, offered towards Noctis once he's prepared to move forward again. They understand, and they'll listen, too.
He exhales quietly, drained but kind of... excited? Not sure what might come of this, but eager to find out.]
Pyra... pick a number between 2 and 112.