[A subtle tremor of relief passes through his body as she leans into him, as she kisses back again. He can feel her lips curve against his and it makes him smile, shy and clumsy but no longer as unsure as he was a moment ago. His experience may be limited but he can follow her lead just fine, and his hand at her waist draws her close with more confidence that she won't push him away. The rich heat of her body against his is intoxicating, a sweet mixture of familiar and new, an embrace made to be re-learned, memorized, treasured. She knows how to touch him, and he finds himself suddenly wondering how to touch her, what she likes or doesn't like, what areas would welcome his hands and what would be off-limits. He trusts her to tell him as he slides one hand up along her side, the other rising to cup the curve of her cheek, calloused fingers gently scraping at the smooth silk of her skin.
It's hard to break for air, though he needs to; he feels as if he's floating, lost in the sky, free from gravity and empowered like when the Armiger is unleashed. Held aloft now not by magic but by her presence, the taste of her kiss, the heat of her hands on him. There's no hesitation this time as he leans back in for more, initiating the next kiss, seeking to echo her movements from before, learning steps and angles and where the hell his tongue goes. He doesn't know what he's doing, he just- he wants her to keep smiling, he wants to be the one to make her smile. If his clumsy, foolish self can manage it, he's glad.]
[ His hands go up to her cheeks, her own moves lower, slowly and steadily past his shoulder to his side, warmly then to his waist, hugging his hip... just-- just enjoying the feel of him, tracing him beneath her palm. He feels wonderful. He tastes wonderful, too. Wonderful enough to answer his clumsiness with some of her own, returning her smile within their kiss, teeth intermittently clinking against his.
Kiss after subsequent kiss, she doesn't stop. Nor is there a need to. Her sighs and breaths only convey and emphasize the emotions she's feeling, not derived physical need for air. But, it would be fittingly poetic to say that he's taken the very breath from her. Each time he draws away for his own, it's a delay for her, but sweet is the tease that precedes his return... and his tongue, should he be open. It's different. It's a coiling, needy sensation, it makes her more aware-- more aware of him, if that is at all possible, each and every part along themselves that are in contact, and how much more she has left to learn about him.
She wouldn't know about his apparent inexperience. Everything he does, each way he kisses her, feels like firecrackers during the late summer festivals strung together. They sparkle and spark within her, again and again, and she trails their lights, his light, lost in it, not daring to stop lest she fall from the stars. ]
[Something about this feels... too good. He's quietly lost in the sensation, content to remain so, but there's always an ugly part of his mind ready to cast doubts on his choices, whether it's right or fair or permissible. What feels good isn't always the best for all involved, that much he's learned over time. And it does feel good; each and every kiss, whether clumsy or comfortable, feels more amazing than the last. Her hand at his hip urges him ever closer, his leg shifting to curl affectionately around one of hers as if to gently lock her near to him. The soft noises she makes, sweet and encouraging utterances, coax him slowly from brief and shallow kisses to go deeper, opening up and following the instinctive need to explore her, to learn this dance of lips and teeth and tongues. He'll think too much on this, if he allows himself to. He'll worry and wonder and question, weighing the differences between right and good, and what's right for himself and the world has so long been nothing but pain that pleasure has become too alien.
Is this allowed? Still, his mind questions this, fighting with what his heart cries out for.
Worst, he's the worst, and at last he forces himself backwards, his breath catching, eyes fluttering open to properly look at her. He opens his mouth to speak - falters immediately, because looking at her honestly takes his breath away, how content she is in his arms and how sweet her smile appears - licks his lips and tries again.]
Pyra... I'm not-
[I'm not him, he nearly says, but catches himself in time. I'm not Somnus. But that's unfair, to assume she would be so shallow or that she wouldn't care for him unless they shared the same face. He would think himself a poor substitute for the Founder King either way, and it's impossible not to feel... insufficient... in light of what he might have offered her, were he still here.
There's a sincerity in her expression that can't be denied, however. And he doesn't want to dismiss or devalue that. Fool that he is, he knows the answer before he can even utter the question; his doubts are not of her but rather of himself, so it needs to be asked. Taking a slow, shaky breath, he tries once more.]
[ Parting from his lips grants little respite for the dancing energy within, but she remains steady against him, allowing him to take his time to parse through whatever he is feeling in turn. However, when he speaks, she does not follow. Opening her eyes to regard his more reserved expression doesn't help her, either. Briefly the corners of her lips turn downward in her puzzlement before correcting to a soft, fond smile.
She's seen him charge into battle without a thought-- she's seen him leap into the mouth of a beast as if he'd done it before. She's surprised that he has this doubt within him, wondering from just where it comes. Too high upon that cloud of affection herself, she's unable to guess at the reasons. ] You're not... warm? [ She finishes his earlier sentence for him. ] You're not courageous, strong, soft, ...incredible?
[ Pyra closes her eyes briefly, and when she opens them, they're sparkling brightly as she looks upon him, more words tumbling past her lips affectionately. He wants reassurance, she'll give it. She'll give all of it, whatever he needs. ] If it's you, it's... more than okay. [ She speaks breathlessly, her hand rising from his up back up to his side as she holds his gaze for as long as he wishes. ] It's wonderful. [ She whispers this to his lips, then continues: ] You're wonderful. Why are you so wonderful?
[His gaze drops again - first low, as he's often done when he's uncertain, then up again towards her lips, unable to help himself - before rising to return to her eyes. It's impossible not to notice how she looks at him, all smiles and affection and kindness pointed in his direction and no one else's. It's just them, he and her, none between or around them. He can't deny the truth: that the expression on her face is for him, to him, from him. She deserves better than his doubting thoughts.
Wonderful, she says. I'm not wonderful, he wants to rebuff; someone wonderful wouldn't have failed so often, would have accepted his fate with the sort of grace and regality that his kingdom demands, like the rulers before him, like the man who started it all. Someone wonderful would be able to give her everything she wants and more, and he doesn't know if he can, doesn't know what this is yet.
But... she's wonderful, warm and sweet and holding him so gently, like he's all that matters in this moment. He wants to be wonderful for her. He wants to be better, to feel worthy of the look she's gracing him. If she thinks he's wonderful as he is, he won't try and tell her she's wrong. He'll earn it.]
...Okay, [is at last his quiet, humbled reply, cupping her cheeks and pulling her in for another kiss before his idiot head and equally idiot mouth can say anything else to contradict her. Indulging in her embrace is much better than listening to any lingering insecurities; those can wait their damn turn.]
[ She waits patiently for his response, noting how he looks at her, uncertain and quiet, before he finally answers with a kiss. Is this something she should ask more about? Should she pause here to inquire further, pulling whatever he's thinking of out of him, if only to encourage that he can voice whatever he's feeling...? Just where is such doubt coming from?
"..Is it okay? If it's me?"
She knows all too well the insidiousness of doubts. Later, she'll have them herself. But now she wants to do all that she can to assuage some of those doubts, that this is all for him. She wants to show him it's not 'okay', not some mediocre emotion she feels for him, but everything-- a tidal wave of feelings and awe of those feelings, of him for being the one to make her feel this way, especially as he cups her face and kisses her so softly. Of course he's soft and slow with his motions. He's careful, he's caring, his fingers delicate as feathers upon her cheeks. Her cheeks burn red with such a gently shared kiss. For one that he initiates on his own, it means so much. ] ...But really, Noct--
[ Her hand moves to his shoulder, and the other slips out from beneath her to place it upon his chest between them. With a push, she rolls him over in a light, playful, haphazard tumble. Now atop of him, she lowers her head to his, repeating the question. ] ...why are you so wonderful?
[ She kisses him just at the corner of his lips. Then she kisses him upon the side of his jaw. Then it's a another kiss and another and another up to his cheek in playful little pecks, where at last she ends just at the outer edge of his eye, lips dusting against his long lashes. She draws away then, looking at him fondly.
[Surprised by her boldness, he moves with her without resistance, pinned by her body but lifting himself up in whatever way he can to meet her, both curious and thirsty for the affection she's peppering down upon him. When she bends to kiss him he tilts his head towards her lips, as she shifts against his body his hands rise to touch her thighs, tentative at first to gauge her reaction as they are the first point of contact his hands reach, and then, if she shows no objection, slide gently upwards, fingertips gliding to her hips, her sides, her shoulders, the spots he can reach. It's nowhere that he wouldn't likely have touched already either through training or their time spent together, but this time is different- intentional, an exploration of how she feels, the shape of her, what she likes. He's so careful, with this being so new, the restraints of his position and duties tying him to some grounded-in propriety yet wanting to give back to her nonetheless. Her smooth, unblemished skin makes for easy passage, an open pathway with no scars or marks to distract, only her clothes, and thank goodness for those or he'd be even less elegant in his words than usual.
Wonderful, she says again. Is she serious? He sets free a huff of breathy laughter between kisses, another helpless smile crossing his lips, his hands gliding down her arms at both sides to find her hands, both to support her and to wind their fingers together for a few moments at least.]
Guess I can't help it. Takes one to know one?
[He's not the one who gets to decide that, is it? He can talk a big game, especially in battle or training where he knows he has the skill, but here where it's safe, that isn't really up to him. But it means he can be the one to decide she's wonderful, too, so- fair is fair.]
[ She reacts only to his first tentative touch upon her thighs first by a slight raise of her brows, but her expression relaxes as his hands make their way over her skin, up her body in that same careful, calloused touch. By the way she lets her body relax over his, his hands indeed have permission to indulgently travel anywhere upon her. In return, her own touch is mindful, her lips gentle at the side of his cheek for one last kiss; she can call him wonderful and amazing as long as needed, because he may not be ready for more. For what she truly feels is nothing but affection for him, the kind that whenever she looks at him she can't help but smile with appreciation and fondness. The world seems that much colorful, musical, whimsical, wonderful with him, and when she looks into his eyes, she's certain that even if an artist would lavish their most luxurious paints for the color, they'd still be woefully short of capturing their essence.
Another small smile and another blush forms at his response: he's calling her wonderful in return, and that is-- also wonderful. It seems that wonderful is the word of the day, because she cannot think of how else to describe it... Well. Besides love.
But he may not be ready for that. So, she'll keep such tender feelings hidden behind that word, wonderful, for now.
Her arms settle into an embrace around his shoulders, settling over him, simply enjoying the warmth of his body beneath her, letting gravity bring them flush. ] I think you pass every hug test with flying colors. What else is there for me to teach you?
[He shivers a little as she presses against him, his arms shifting to wind around her, one hand to her shoulder and the other at her waist. He's genuinely not sure that he'd know how to define this if asked - is this a thing, now? is she just cozy with this? are they going to date? oh gods - but it is, as she'd said multiple times already, wonderful. And if only this much is wonderful, if spending time with her as friends is wonderful, how much better would it be to combine the two? To feel no hesitation or worry in taking her hand or touching her, pulling her close without fear of his own shyness or impropriety... to show the world without shame that she's with him, she chose to be with him, that his company is wanted rather than required by birth or rank or position. It was a rarity in his life for so long, and now there are so many who welcome him. Among them, she is unique. She's in his arms, smiling, blushing, kissing him.
He doesn't know what this is, but he wants to find out.]
Bet you can get creative enough to come up with something. [His lips quirk.] Or maybe I will.
[He honestly has no idea- he just knows this is surely insufficient. This isn't some endgame, some finale- it's the start of a new level, with all new moves and perks to master. He's learning how to kiss, now. That's a pretty big deal.]
[ With his arms secure around her, there's even less of a reason for her to move from how she's lying against him. It's further reassurance that he wishes to have her there with him, that he's not afraid of who or what she is, that he accepts her presence, her secrets, with both patience and grace. Right here, right now, he's become her very favorite spot and source of warmth within this entire house, city, and world.
She wants to kiss him more. But she also wants to talk to him more, if only to have him speak more about himself, of what he wishes for, what he hopes for, what he wants to do, what he wants to joke about or more. She also wants to smile more. It's the best of dilemmas.
Her hand finds his cheek again as she shifts her weight over him, careful of how their hips align, being gentle in how she lowers herself. ] Teach me... how you smile the way you do? [ Her fingers fall slowly down his cheek to those very same lips of his, the very same ones that have captivated her with what he's said, how he's smiled, and-- ] And how you kiss.
[ Because they're both beautiful things about him, both his smile and the way he shows affection. Earlier, she is sure there was some purpose to her bringing him here-- perhaps to rest, because... yes, of course, he's had a rough day. But it's so hard not to do anything but bask in this peace. ]
Mm... don't know if you'd want lessons on that from me just yet. Maybe once I get more practice in.
[His lips brush against her fingertips as he speaks, his voice quiet with her so close to him. His brows furrow, quite serious all of a sudden - or at least giving the illusion of it - and slides his hands up her back, tucking her hair behind her ears and cupping both of her cheeks.
And then, inelegantly, he uses his thumbs to lift up the corners of her lips, similarly to how she'd fussed with his face when he was in his older body.]
I think this is how smiling works, though. You might want to check with an expert on that. Did you know Prompto lives here too?
[ Her lips twitch as his fingers find the corners of them and he brings her lips outward into a grin. He'll feel that he won't have to strain her expression, though, not when that grin becomes effortless on her part. Her hand moves from his lips back to his shoulder, and then with a shift, she's rolling off of him to lie alongside him once more. Her stomach buckles from giggles. ]
But... beautiful smiles. Beautiful smiles. Like yours. [ She nods her head once, as if that's all the clarification he needs between his smile, Prompto's, or perhaps anyone else's.
Even if... she'd still call other people's smiles beautiful too. Noctis' is special-- ah. Favored. She's favoring him. There is no regulating entity, body, or program to stop her from doing so, either. So much for being neutral, so much for being merely an observer as a crystal. The most bizarre thing about it is that she can hardly stop herself, either. She loves... She loves loving him.
...
She quiets, and her gaze soften like the last embers of a fire. Before, she had said she would spoil him. Now, she wants to provide for him. On that note: ] ...What... is it, that you want to do right now, Noct? [ She asks quietly. ] Let's do that. [ It could be anything. They could talk. Or she can go and make dinner. Or perhaps he can sleep for a little more. Whatever he wants, she wants that, too. ]
[What does he want? A question so simple shouldn't have his mind roiling, and yet it does, his gaze casting curiously over her features, down to the bed, to the space between them. With her lying on top of him he'd felt a little pressured to do more - not so much by her as by the implication of it - and with her shifting away, he wonders if it was something he'd failed to do. She looks so content, though, so he's probably just overthinking things as usual. It's not like he's ready for much else; he's not the sort to dive straight into the deep end like this, not like Gladio who could have a regular rotation of eager bedfellows if he so desired. He's not used to being the one with eyes on him. At least, not for this. Pyra doesn't want him for the crown, she wants...
...actually, he's not sure about that, either. But since she's asking him, his hand seeks out and finds hers again, fingers twining together. Lying like this, pausing to actually think again, he's realizing that he hasn't quite slept off the wine yet, and the headache is coming back. Next to her, basking in her warmth, the drowsiness of before is returning as well.]
...Stay for a while?
[The question is asked tentatively, like when he'd asked her not to leave him alone with the shadows of his future vision, frightened of his own mind. This time the request is different, however- asked not to comfort, but to enjoy. He wants her company, even if he doesn't need it.]
[ It's the absolute best thing he could ask of her. Not to leave, but to stay. Is it possible to be eager to do something so simple? Well, it must be, because she is willing to stay beside him. ]
Of course.
[ For as long as we're able.
There's no telling when either one of them might fall asleep and vanish to their worlds, or perhaps be brought to another. So many have left already, including-- Somnus.
....
And... Luna. Luna left. Luna, who Noctis loves.
"Stay for a while?"
She'll take these crumbs. Any and all offerings of what he's willing to share. His request to stay, him holding her hands, and if she's lucky, another embrace, perhaps another kiss. For all the moments she has here, she wishes to spend more of them with him, within reason. It's not a bother at all, either. When he asks for her to stay, it's a privilege as much as a request to which she's willing to provide. ]
[It's the right thing to say, it seems. No mere crumbs, but rather the whole plate, and that shines through with the shy and sleepy smile he gives her in return, tilting his head towards her and sinking down further against the mattress. His eyes close a bit reluctantly, though not before he tugs her hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it, as a gentleman might at a formal event. He should probably have started with that, admittedly; a proper courtship, behaviour befitting a prince. Not that he's ever been a typical royal, but still, this is... unusual, for him. Maybe his time back home really has changed him. Or here. Or her.
Too late now- and too late for regrets, besides, especially considering he'd enjoyed it quite a bit, actually. Instead of dwelling on it further he nestles closer to her, and after a few moments of quiet, murmurs her name once more as he starts to doze off. It won't take him long.]
[ Sleep is a wonderful thing. In this world, it can also be quite dreadful: those who eventually go seem to first go with sleep. She's witnessed it twice before, personally. Taken further, it's symbolic of mortality. There is no telling when any might fade from this world, but only knowing that they all, eventually, will.
Do mortals not fear falling sleep for this very same reason? That should they close their eyes, they do not know if they will wake? She, too, sleeps now. But for her, the fear is different: that when she opens her eyes, he'll remain asleep, and she'll never see his smile again.
For Noctis, his time here is especially precious, and as he settles into his sleep, she remains awake for minutes afterwards, looking at him, holding at him, relaxing against him. Eventually, she slumbers, her hold upon him loosening as the night takes her, all else forgotten. ]
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It's hard to break for air, though he needs to; he feels as if he's floating, lost in the sky, free from gravity and empowered like when the Armiger is unleashed. Held aloft now not by magic but by her presence, the taste of her kiss, the heat of her hands on him. There's no hesitation this time as he leans back in for more, initiating the next kiss, seeking to echo her movements from before, learning steps and angles and where the hell his tongue goes. He doesn't know what he's doing, he just- he wants her to keep smiling, he wants to be the one to make her smile. If his clumsy, foolish self can manage it, he's glad.]
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Kiss after subsequent kiss, she doesn't stop. Nor is there a need to. Her sighs and breaths only convey and emphasize the emotions she's feeling, not derived physical need for air. But, it would be fittingly poetic to say that he's taken the very breath from her. Each time he draws away for his own, it's a delay for her, but sweet is the tease that precedes his return... and his tongue, should he be open. It's different. It's a coiling, needy sensation, it makes her more aware-- more aware of him, if that is at all possible, each and every part along themselves that are in contact, and how much more she has left to learn about him.
She wouldn't know about his apparent inexperience. Everything he does, each way he kisses her, feels like firecrackers during the late summer festivals strung together. They sparkle and spark within her, again and again, and she trails their lights, his light, lost in it, not daring to stop lest she fall from the stars. ]
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Is this allowed? Still, his mind questions this, fighting with what his heart cries out for.
Worst, he's the worst, and at last he forces himself backwards, his breath catching, eyes fluttering open to properly look at her. He opens his mouth to speak - falters immediately, because looking at her honestly takes his breath away, how content she is in his arms and how sweet her smile appears - licks his lips and tries again.]
Pyra... I'm not-
[I'm not him, he nearly says, but catches himself in time. I'm not Somnus. But that's unfair, to assume she would be so shallow or that she wouldn't care for him unless they shared the same face. He would think himself a poor substitute for the Founder King either way, and it's impossible not to feel... insufficient... in light of what he might have offered her, were he still here.
There's a sincerity in her expression that can't be denied, however. And he doesn't want to dismiss or devalue that. Fool that he is, he knows the answer before he can even utter the question; his doubts are not of her but rather of himself, so it needs to be asked. Taking a slow, shaky breath, he tries once more.]
...Is it okay? If it's me?
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She's seen him charge into battle without a thought-- she's seen him leap into the mouth of a beast as if he'd done it before. She's surprised that he has this doubt within him, wondering from just where it comes. Too high upon that cloud of affection herself, she's unable to guess at the reasons. ] You're not... warm? [ She finishes his earlier sentence for him. ] You're not courageous, strong, soft, ...incredible?
[ Pyra closes her eyes briefly, and when she opens them, they're sparkling brightly as she looks upon him, more words tumbling past her lips affectionately. He wants reassurance, she'll give it. She'll give all of it, whatever he needs. ] If it's you, it's... more than okay. [ She speaks breathlessly, her hand rising from his up back up to his side as she holds his gaze for as long as he wishes. ] It's wonderful. [ She whispers this to his lips, then continues: ] You're wonderful. Why are you so wonderful?
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Wonderful, she says. I'm not wonderful, he wants to rebuff; someone wonderful wouldn't have failed so often, would have accepted his fate with the sort of grace and regality that his kingdom demands, like the rulers before him, like the man who started it all. Someone wonderful would be able to give her everything she wants and more, and he doesn't know if he can, doesn't know what this is yet.
But... she's wonderful, warm and sweet and holding him so gently, like he's all that matters in this moment. He wants to be wonderful for her. He wants to be better, to feel worthy of the look she's gracing him. If she thinks he's wonderful as he is, he won't try and tell her she's wrong. He'll earn it.]
...Okay, [is at last his quiet, humbled reply, cupping her cheeks and pulling her in for another kiss before his idiot head and equally idiot mouth can say anything else to contradict her. Indulging in her embrace is much better than listening to any lingering insecurities; those can wait their damn turn.]
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"..Is it okay? If it's me?"
She knows all too well the insidiousness of doubts. Later, she'll have them herself. But now she wants to do all that she can to assuage some of those doubts, that this is all for him. She wants to show him it's not 'okay', not some mediocre emotion she feels for him, but everything-- a tidal wave of feelings and awe of those feelings, of him for being the one to make her feel this way, especially as he cups her face and kisses her so softly. Of course he's soft and slow with his motions. He's careful, he's caring, his fingers delicate as feathers upon her cheeks. Her cheeks burn red with such a gently shared kiss. For one that he initiates on his own, it means so much. ] ...But really, Noct--
[ Her hand moves to his shoulder, and the other slips out from beneath her to place it upon his chest between them. With a push, she rolls him over in a light, playful, haphazard tumble. Now atop of him, she lowers her head to his, repeating the question. ] ...why are you so wonderful?
[ She kisses him just at the corner of his lips. Then she kisses him upon the side of his jaw. Then it's a another kiss and another and another up to his cheek in playful little pecks, where at last she ends just at the outer edge of his eye, lips dusting against his long lashes. She draws away then, looking at him fondly.
(What does this make them, she wonders.) ]
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Wonderful, she says again. Is she serious? He sets free a huff of breathy laughter between kisses, another helpless smile crossing his lips, his hands gliding down her arms at both sides to find her hands, both to support her and to wind their fingers together for a few moments at least.]
Guess I can't help it. Takes one to know one?
[He's not the one who gets to decide that, is it? He can talk a big game, especially in battle or training where he knows he has the skill, but here where it's safe, that isn't really up to him. But it means he can be the one to decide she's wonderful, too, so- fair is fair.]
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Another small smile and another blush forms at his response: he's calling her wonderful in return, and that is-- also wonderful. It seems that wonderful is the word of the day, because she cannot think of how else to describe it... Well. Besides love.
But he may not be ready for that. So, she'll keep such tender feelings hidden behind that word, wonderful, for now.
Her arms settle into an embrace around his shoulders, settling over him, simply enjoying the warmth of his body beneath her, letting gravity bring them flush. ] I think you pass every hug test with flying colors. What else is there for me to teach you?
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He doesn't know what this is, but he wants to find out.]
Bet you can get creative enough to come up with something. [His lips quirk.] Or maybe I will.
[He honestly has no idea- he just knows this is surely insufficient. This isn't some endgame, some finale- it's the start of a new level, with all new moves and perks to master. He's learning how to kiss, now. That's a pretty big deal.]
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She wants to kiss him more. But she also wants to talk to him more, if only to have him speak more about himself, of what he wishes for, what he hopes for, what he wants to do, what he wants to joke about or more. She also wants to smile more. It's the best of dilemmas.
Her hand finds his cheek again as she shifts her weight over him, careful of how their hips align, being gentle in how she lowers herself. ] Teach me... how you smile the way you do? [ Her fingers fall slowly down his cheek to those very same lips of his, the very same ones that have captivated her with what he's said, how he's smiled, and-- ] And how you kiss.
[ Because they're both beautiful things about him, both his smile and the way he shows affection. Earlier, she is sure there was some purpose to her bringing him here-- perhaps to rest, because... yes, of course, he's had a rough day. But it's so hard not to do anything but bask in this peace. ]
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[His lips brush against her fingertips as he speaks, his voice quiet with her so close to him. His brows furrow, quite serious all of a sudden - or at least giving the illusion of it - and slides his hands up her back, tucking her hair behind her ears and cupping both of her cheeks.
And then, inelegantly, he uses his thumbs to lift up the corners of her lips, similarly to how she'd fussed with his face when he was in his older body.]
I think this is how smiling works, though. You might want to check with an expert on that. Did you know Prompto lives here too?
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But... beautiful smiles. Beautiful smiles. Like yours. [ She nods her head once, as if that's all the clarification he needs between his smile, Prompto's, or perhaps anyone else's.
Even if... she'd still call other people's smiles beautiful too. Noctis' is special-- ah. Favored. She's favoring him. There is no regulating entity, body, or program to stop her from doing so, either. So much for being neutral, so much for being merely an observer as a crystal. The most bizarre thing about it is that she can hardly stop herself, either. She loves... She loves loving him.
...
She quiets, and her gaze soften like the last embers of a fire. Before, she had said she would spoil him. Now, she wants to provide for him. On that note: ] ...What... is it, that you want to do right now, Noct? [ She asks quietly. ] Let's do that. [ It could be anything. They could talk. Or she can go and make dinner. Or perhaps he can sleep for a little more. Whatever he wants, she wants that, too. ]
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...actually, he's not sure about that, either. But since she's asking him, his hand seeks out and finds hers again, fingers twining together. Lying like this, pausing to actually think again, he's realizing that he hasn't quite slept off the wine yet, and the headache is coming back. Next to her, basking in her warmth, the drowsiness of before is returning as well.]
...Stay for a while?
[The question is asked tentatively, like when he'd asked her not to leave him alone with the shadows of his future vision, frightened of his own mind. This time the request is different, however- asked not to comfort, but to enjoy. He wants her company, even if he doesn't need it.]
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Of course.
[ For as long as we're able.
There's no telling when either one of them might fall asleep and vanish to their worlds, or perhaps be brought to another. So many have left already, including-- Somnus.
....
And... Luna. Luna left. Luna, who Noctis loves.
"Stay for a while?"
She'll take these crumbs. Any and all offerings of what he's willing to share. His request to stay, him holding her hands, and if she's lucky, another embrace, perhaps another kiss. For all the moments she has here, she wishes to spend more of them with him, within reason. It's not a bother at all, either. When he asks for her to stay, it's a privilege as much as a request to which she's willing to provide. ]
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Too late now- and too late for regrets, besides, especially considering he'd enjoyed it quite a bit, actually. Instead of dwelling on it further he nestles closer to her, and after a few moments of quiet, murmurs her name once more as he starts to doze off. It won't take him long.]
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Do mortals not fear falling sleep for this very same reason? That should they close their eyes, they do not know if they will wake? She, too, sleeps now. But for her, the fear is different: that when she opens her eyes, he'll remain asleep, and she'll never see his smile again.
For Noctis, his time here is especially precious, and as he settles into his sleep, she remains awake for minutes afterwards, looking at him, holding at him, relaxing against him. Eventually, she slumbers, her hold upon him loosening as the night takes her, all else forgotten. ]