iustaegis | IC CONTACT FOR HUGS

[ 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. ]

[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.]

[ Falling face-first into his chest isn't exactly what she or anyone might call elegant even on her worst days. Pyra's head snaps up, her wide eyes instantly locking with his. ] N-Noct, I--... [ Although hhe stammers his name, her voice quiet, hushed and rushed because of their proximity . ] My apologies, you were sleeping, and I carried you--

[ The the midst of her fumbling through her explanation, she had been attempting to find purchase upon the mattress with either of her hands. One of them finds it just to the side of his waist, and she applies some force to support her upper body from him. But in that moment, she realizes two specific things about how their legs are:

One, that one of hers is between his. And two, that his thigh is between her own. A soft blush rapidly spreads to her cheeks.

...

She's not going to comment on it. He's still waking up. Perhaps he won't notice himself (perhaps he won't make any unnecessary movements). It'll be okay. ] ...I didn't mean to wake you.

[Oh, okay, it's Pyra. ....Wait, Pyra?]

Wh... oh shit, sorry-

[He shifts, still rousing himself, and slides his leg up to help prop himself upright- or tries to, at least. He can't get far because her body is there, and that small movement causes his knee to slide up from her thigh to rest against her stomach, and that's when he goes still, recognizing his error.

He blinks up at her, trying to get his sore head to logic its way through the steps of how they ended up like this. Nothing's coming to mind...]

You, um. Sure you weren't trying to wake me...?

[Oops, he commented on it. And falling on him sure is one way to get him conscious. Not one he suspects Ignis would approve of, albeit very effective.]

[ His leg slides upward between hers, and that's all it takes. Her body goes completely rigid against his, but not without a small, inadvertent jerk of her own thigh at the crux of his legs first. She draws a quick breath, completely involuntary.

As for herself, he'll see this: Pyra dipping her head, the hand that had been upon the mattress now at his hip as if to hold him (still? tight? that's debatable), and her shoulders rising and falling with another breath she doesn't need, slow and forcibly controlled. Suddenly, it's warm.

She swallows. ] Your bedroom... I tripped.

[ He should clean his room, she wants to chide.

But she feels she needs to focus on-- anything. Not beds. Not a bedroom. Not where his legs are or how she's straddling his thigh, not his movements, not his body beneath hers, not anything like that. ]

[His breath catches as her leg moves, and he tries to angle himself to inch away from the unexpected pressure, the blooming red of a blush spreading across his own cheeks now as well. Her sudden stiffness also makes him realize for the first time where his hand is- at her back, not pushing but at the same time kind of holding her in place. Under his breath he curses and lifts his hand up and away to keep from restraining her unintentionally, instead hovering in the air at her side like he's not sure where to put it now. Moving his arm doesn't help much with the leg situation, with both in a pointedly more compromised position, but now she can move if she wants.]

S... sorry. I didn't- know. Usually it's just me in here...

[He hasn't had to worry about keeping it clean since-

-he cuts that thought off abruptly. That doesn't matter right now. In this moment, she's the only one here with him.]

[ Strange how she hadn't noticed his hand there until now. Her lips part. Now that it's gone from her back, she almost asks for him to keep it there...

Her gaze raises, looking up from his chest, to his neck, to his chin, his lips, then finally meeting his eyes. He's blushing. She is, too. She's probably overthinking things. Her fingers peel away from his hip one by one; back to the mattress it goes. Now they're only touching where her chest falls plush against his, their legs still precariously intertwined.

Pyra swallows.

She doesn't move, yet. She doesn't quite trust herself to, not when it feels like any other accidental brush might cause-- she doesn't want to think about it. Instead, she focuses upon the conversation, as if bidding for time might cause her everything to calm and cool. ] ...Does it get lonely?

[ Does it get lonely-- who. Who says that about someone else's bedroom? Apparently she does, when she cannot concentrate and her mind is addled. ]

[He opens his mouth to answer, pauses before he can get a word out. Lonely... in truth, yes, and the conflict is clear enough in his eyes. He'd slept alone for most of his life, but during the road trip he was always either bundled into a cramped tent with the guys all pressed up close, or sharing a hotel bed with one of them, and it'd been... nice, actually. And while Luna was here, he'd grown used to having a warm body pressed against him in the night, surrounded by her or the dogs or both...

...yeah, it's lonely. But he's uncertain of her intentions, and he doesn't want to make her worry about him, so he licks his lips uncertainly and answers instead,]

It's not so bad. I've got Umbra.

[All of a sudden he can feel the absence of her touch like a missing piece of his outfit, pulled off of him and left just out of reach. His hand inches closer, and he catches the movement just before he makes contact with her side. What the hell is he doing? And why is she looking at him like that...?]

[ He has Umbra.

Her shoulders rise then fall as she closes her eyes. For a few moments she doesn't speak, only breaking the silence with a quiet giggle.

He has Umbra.

This man....

Pyra adjusts,-- carefully-- making room by spreading her legs and pressing her knees downward, allowing her hips to lift off of his leg. She moves just slightly forward over him, only sliding against where their chests meet, mindful of moving her thigh too much between his-- although hopefully he won't be startled into moving on his own. For her, even the barest of touches is a prickling warmth that spreads to her extremities, being so close. Her hand raises then falls to the side of his head, pressing into the bed. Finally, slowly, she lowers herself again... but only for her forehead to meet against his.

She speaks quietly, restrained, and with emotion, closing her eyes. ] You have more than Umbra, you know.

[He holds his breath as she repositions herself, his body tense and waiting, unwilling to move lest he do something that might make it awkward for her- or more awkward, as she's already being so careful in her motions. She'd laughed, though; it was soft and brief, but a laugh all the same. He'd felt a fresh rush of warmth as she leaned in towards his face, closing his eyes- and when he feels only her forehead on his, he exhales, not sure what he'd expected, and... not sure why he would expect anything other than this. This is normal for them, this is something they'd done before. Their positions or situation changes nothing. It's not like he can feel her breath or the heat of her blush or her breasts against him-

-he makes a soft, strangled noise, like clearing his throat with his mouth kept shut to avoid coughing on her. Smooth. Very smooth.]

...More, huh.

[He swallows, pressing himself back into the mattress as he starts to recognize what her warmth and proximity is doing to him. The heat spreads, pooling near his stomach with all of his nerves, and he lets that hovering hand sink down, fingers touching against her side, butterfly-soft, not sure where else to put it. If he tries to lay it flat on the bed it'd be between their bodies, and that would be more awkward, surely. Right? He's not crazy, right?

Subtly, almost unconsciously, he tilts his head just a little. Her lips are so close to his they nearly brush as he responds.]

Got... someone in mind?

[ This time, she doesn't tense as his hand finds itself upon her side. Given that she's wearing her usual outfit, this means that his fingers will find the bare skin of her back-- skin that he knows is but an outer layer of the light beneath, yet he holds her still, unafraid. His hand there, she likes it. His eyes upon her, she likes that too. His breath, his lips at the precipice of her own, the fluttering feeling of anticipation... she likes all of that. She's being supported by both his strength and by his petal-light touch, too soft to imagine as real, and it pulls her. It would easy, so easy to give in.

As if her rigid strength has finally left her, she does partially give into that warmth, allowing her body to slowly settle back and sink against his, her weight upon his hips, her head turning, dipping at the side of his neck. Breathe, don't do more than what is necessary. This is all an accident.

She knows that feeling of loneliness, the specific one of having an empty bed, of no warm arms to be around her as she sleeps. It's not a loneliness she ever thought she'd feel. And the trail of that thought leads to who had left, and...

What is she doing here, on his bed? She tripped, but what is keeping her here? His hand on her, his eyes, his warmth, his touch, how it feels to have his chest beneath hers? That's not really making her stay, no. It's her want to be here, her want to move her hand back to him, to feel him-- which she cautions herself, reminds herself that she should not act on. Upon entering the house she had found him passed out upon the couch, an empty bottle of wine. Obvious signs that he's stressed, tired. This, whatever is happening...

Now is not the time. ]

...Maybe. [ --Is her response, whispered at his ear, and with great mental effort, she rolls off of him to lie at his side. It's cold without him. ]

[Part of him wants to chase her as she withdraws, but he doesn't, recognizing the implication for what it is. Instead he exhales softly and leans back against the mattress, his hands sliding away to fold together at his stomach, a self-restraint to keep himself from unintentionally overreaching again. Whatever it is that just happened wasn't meant to happen; as she'd said, she fell. Just an accident, nothing more.

"Maybe."

He doesn't really know what that means, but he has no choice but to follow her body language in this; that language says "no" quite clearly. That's fine. He wasn't looking for more or anything like that. Just... an accident.

His head's pounding again, suddenly, as his body catches up with reality, so he closes his eyes to evade the light, the heat, all of it. Maybe if he stops looking at her, he'll stop feeling whatever this is.]

Sorry... for the trouble. I didn't mean to leave a mess.

[Said mess could refer to the other room or himself, and both would be accurate.]

[ She rests alongside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, and if she closes her eyes she can almost picture themselves back atop the final state within the game they've both created, lying on a grassy plain, looking up at the false stars. Even if that hadn't been reality, the moment was.

This isn't the same moment, but despite the... awkwardness, she vastly prefers this: the real him, beside her. --But it's not exactly "awkward" to her, either. Tense, perhaps, except not in a fight or flight way; yes, that's it, a restrained tenseness, holding herself from doing something that would be too much, too soon. She can't look at him just yet.

She wonders just what had been on his mind earlier this day for him to take to alcohol with another, and oh, she can hazard a few guesses starting all the way back to three months ago, when Luna first vanished, then his father had fallen asleep. Then it he had awakened with new memories and information, information that had been explicitly revealed to him... by her.

"Just be here, and be yourself."

...She stays by his side. ] It's alright. A messy kitchen [ And bedroom, apparently. ] means that you're here. [ Simply, she puts: ] I like that.

[He purses his lips into a thin line at that, not responding for a time; the truth is, his room and the house itself wasn't usually messy for the same reason his bed wasn't always lonely. Because she'd been there, and she'd deserved a clean home, a clean place to rest and relax and cook and enjoy life the way she hadn't for so long. She deserved a clean prince. It's also, in part, the same reason he'd drunk himself stupid this afternoon. The alcohol and the miserable company was a somewhat unwelcome assist to mask the sorrow he'd been feeling on and off for months now, has been struggling to maintain a distance from, with or without the support of those around him. (More the former than the latter, and he knows it well.) That sorrow is not just for him - though selfishly of course he's going to grieve for his own fate - it includes Ardyn, Luna, his father, all of whom that same fate dragged along for the ride to hell. Pyra too, now that he knows the truth. He's trying to stay strong, to keep moving forward. Not everyone can do that, and... sometimes, he can't either. This isn't a habit he's keen to rely on too strongly, but company had called for it, though he's not sure if it helped at all. He's... hoping it did.

He stays where he is, shoulder to shoulder with her, but his head tilts slightly in her direction, eyes still faced towards the empty ceiling.]

No plans to go anywhere, if I can help it. [Even though they both know it isn't up to him, wishing doesn't cost them anything.] ...No dinner, either. Dammit. [He forgot again- he'd said he would get it started.] I'll do the dishes later...?

[ Pyra feels him shift beside her, and her own head turns to glance at him. She cannot read his expression, but she can understand his tone. Guilt, for not following through with a chore. That's fine, that's fine. She can't very well ask herself if she's doing enough for him if she cannot take on his tasks when he's not up for it. Volunteered actions of kindness, she gives unconditionally. ] Noct, Noct... [ She calls his name in an attempt to assuage his concerns, her smile carried with her tone. ] Don't worry-- I'll take care of it.

[ It's been rough for him, and besides, dishes might just aggravate the aftereffects of too much alcohol. That, and she has every intention of spoiling him, as she had mentioned before.

--Before, when he had seen the future. Softly, ] You have... a lot still on your mind.

[Another pause, shorter this time, but one followed by a curt nod. There's no denying it, with the state she'd found him in. Though it's a reminder to check in on how she's feeling- it involves her even more than it did before, and he didn't know it until today.]

...Ardyn was here. We had a talk about... what we saw.

[His gaze shifts briefly to her, the look meaningful yet still cryptic, making it pretty clear what he means by what we saw, exactly. A handful of seconds later and he's back to the ceiling, brows furrowing. It's too empty... needs something up there. File that away for later.]

You saw his future too, didn't you.

[ She catches his expression and his implication, but she'll be the first to look away. She delivers her answer quietly, although it's one he already knows. ]

I did.

[ And the state he had been in after was... despairing for it. Nothing she had said, no minor comfort of hope she had attempted to give seemed to have helped him or reminded him of what he had now. He had been agonized as if he had been enchanted by the future, as surely as any divine power could enchant another. And it's horrible.

Pyra closes her eyes. ] Your fates are intertwined. He is... hurting.

[ So is Noctis still, obviously. But she can lend her heart and sympathy for the both of them. Architect knows she has enough to spare. ]

...Yeah.

[Hurting is a very gentle way of phrasing it; it's one thing to hear about what he becomes, another thing entirely to see it play out like a movie. Much like Noctis himself- he'd known that death was in his future, and he'd been learning to live with that knowledge. To watch it, to experience it viscerally and fully before it ever happens, to live every day knowing what's waiting for him on the other side of this journey... that's a new sort of heartache, haunting and painful.]

I tried to help, but... I guess there's nothing I can say or do to make it better. That's why, um. [He gestures, vaguely and unhelpfully.] The wine. He seemed like he was feeling a bit better, last I remember, but he must've left after I fell asleep.

[By his tone, he's clearly unsatisfied, but there's not much in the way of frustration about it. He knows his uses, and comfort in the face of despair is not a great strength of his. He fumbles, he's awkward. The right words don't always come to mind. He really had tried, though.]

[ She tried. She's tried before, too, other times, other conversations. It seems he only hurts, and his suffering is so great that she's reminded of how paltry hers is in comparison. ] Perhaps... it helped more than what I attempted.

[ What had helped Noctis, what had helped Somnus... such encouragement did not seem to touch Ardyn's turmoil. It is perpetual.

This does not mean she's going to stop trying to help and check in on him, to see how he is doing. ] Family is the best reminder of what he has right now, I believe.

Sure, maybe. If we can get him to accept that we still are family.

[Too often it's difficult to get him to acknowledge that they've accepted him, since he can't accept himself as anything more than a monster.]

I can kinda get it... I mean, he was alone for a really long time. It has to be hard to believe that people might care about you if you were abandoned by the whole world for thousands of years.

[ It's the same as she feels for Noctis, is she doing enough? No. She isn't. ]

Just as difficult... as it is to witness becoming a different person.

[ There is one similarity she noted, however: the Ardyn of the future seemed engulfed in despair as well. Her eyes open, seeing the blank ceiling, recalling their first conversation. Perhaps the path is already set. Perhaps a feeling of misery, betrayal of a divine cause is what the Ardyn of the future feels as well. In which case, those are two similarities.

These are only assumptions, however, and far too lost in the future of a world she plays no part. ] I am glad... he has you here. And your father, as well as the others of Eos. Patience and persistence... and reassurance. That might help, but only over time.

I probably didn't help with... y'know. My whole thing. [Oh yeah, Noct, that's real specific.] When I woke up, that first time- I panicked, almost attacked him. I couldn't even look at him for like a month. The best kind of reassurance isn't likely gonna come from me.

[Ardyn says he doesn't blame him for it, and he knows he couldn't help it to some extent, but even so, shouldn't he have been stronger? Been able to tell the difference, and stamp down the anxiety he'd felt even just hearing his voice? It wasn't exactly kingly, chickening out at every opportunity.]

[ That she did not know. She murmurs, thinking back: ] A whole month after...

[ Pyra glances at him, and then it's back to looking at the ceiling. She doubts she needs to tell him that he isn't to blame for his reaction like that, after all he's been through. Ardyn being Ardyn, she's sure he would understand, too-- although no doubt it would only reinforce the idea that he was already some sort of "monster".

The state Nocits had been in when she had found him in her own garden of flowers had been as if he was ready to become catatonic. Despite this, he still found the strength to attend his birthday celebration. That speaks to not only Noctis' strength, but how he's able to see past his own fears.

She pauses. Then quietly, carefully: ] ...Given what happens in the future, I would think that it is your reassurance and word... that counts most.

You think? [He doesn't sound so sure.] I'm the one who's going to kill him, though. I don't get how that would be reassuring.

[He can't help recalling what Ardyn had said, though- how, at that point, he might welcome it. it's a terrible thought, but one he can't quite shake either.]

He did say... he thought maybe his future self might welcome it. Dying, that is. A salvation of some kind. I don't like the idea of me being the delivery method for a mercy kill, but... that's how it'll end up whether I like it or not, I think.

[Not just Ardyn- Besithia had asked it of him as well, should he gain future memories enough to become his own kind of monster. Who the hell decided he was suitable for this? He doesn't balk at taking a life if it's necessary, but he's not a killer by nature.]

[ He’ll feel, or perhaps hear, her move her head upon the mattress move as she tilts it, thoughtful. Her expression is grim, her voice is careful. ]

It’s... a lot to ask of you.

[ Especially since they had gotten to know each other in this world.

In the future, she will ask someone to help return her to her Father. She will not tell this person the reason, and this is why: because it places undue burden upon the other. Because it is unnecessary, and she seeks no pity.

The situation is vastly different for Ardyn and Noctis, though. The two are family and well-aquatinted. Perhaps Ardyn feels it is safe to ask him. Or— ] Perhaps... it’s his way of letting you know that he will not begrudge you for what fate brings. [ She can speculate all day, though ultimately she does not know. It’s complicated, twisted, with many different layers. ]

How do you feel? [ Besides generally “not liking” it. ]

IC CONTACT

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[ Pyra ♢ Mythra ♢ Pneuma [ new post here.]

[ new post here.]

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[ Pyra ♢ Mythra ♢ Pneuma
[ new post here.]