Yeah. It's not exactly the same, but it's the sort of thing my dad wore on the throne, except with a suit. He had this shoulder cape that wrapped around and hung down. Like, part of the king's ensemble?
[In other words: sort of, yes.]
It's pretty much where I lived during envoy dinners when I was too little to know what the hell was going on.
[ .....Should they include this cloak in the game, she wonders. ]
Mm... [ Sweetly: ] I'm picturing a young Notcis kept safe from stone-face dignitaries beneath his father's cloak. [ Tilting her head, she smiles. Is that image accurate at all? ]
[He has no shame; if he'd shared stories of his uncomfortable shuffling about at formal events as a teenager, it might be different, but what child wouldn't be shy in a party full of grown-ups who say a lot without meaning anything, with no one to talk to and no real business being there at all? His memories of those days are vague, but the strongest is burying his face in that comfortable dark material, clutching at a pant leg, his father's hand brushing idly through his hair as he talked to other old men about treaties and trade and the unending war. He'd just wanted Ignis, or his toys, or to hide away in bed. Or to be anything except a prince.]
[Words aside, his tone makes it obvious that he doesn't disagree. It never seemed to matter what age he is, or what condition his father's in. Whether he's 5 or 20, whether his dad is young and fit or struggling with every step with cane in hand- his father makes him feel safe, and the same goes for his possessions. The Regalia, his clothing... a slice of home, a reminder of what he's lost and what he needs to take back. Feeling it around his shoulders makes him feel small again, curled up in his father's lap in the car with it draped over him like a blanket, letting that deep voice lull him to sleep.
Nostalgic, and not very princely, but maybe he can let himself be a bit self-indulgent. Yeah... he'll keep the cape.]
[ Watching him carefully, listening to what few words he speaks, she hears nostalgia, bittersweetness. He grew up as royalty. His father is dead.
She wonders again, why is he here, talking to her when and working on this video game he could be speaking to his father? Or better yet, working on this video game with his father instead?
She reaches for his hand. ]
Your family loves you very much. I hope you will get to play this virtual reality game with all of them.
I'm proud of it! Or I will be, if it actually ends up the real deal. But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna be honest about it. In the grand scheme of things it's not that important.
[It's important to him, but it's still just a silly game.]
I'm okay with that, if it's fun enough that people try it anyway.
[Okay but give him a minute to wrestle out of this toga first, because he really does feel ridiculous, and it's too warm for multiple layers. He folds it as neatly as his skills allow and tucks it back into the box before rejoining her.]
No, not always- not until I moved out on my own. The Citadel was kind of more traditional, but Insomnia's this huge hub for technology. Something about being out in the city and seeing it all up close must've kickstarted it for me.
....She wonders if it weren't for him being a prince, what sort of career he would choose. Sounds like video game development might have been a contender, and here he has that opportunity. A part of her wonders if she should be more insistent with him leaving to go, well, train. The future isn't going to save itself, and he won't be able to save whatever and whoever he's "let down" if he doesn't. However, this is his choice.
--Away from the 'Citadel'. Sounds like a name for a palace of some sort to her. ] Were....you ever able to properly study it on your own? [ ... ] Apart from princely duties?
I don't know about study unless experience counts. I spent loads of time and money at arcades when I could, but there wasn't much point in taking it seriously beyond that. Not like I ever had a choice in what I was gonna do after I finished school.
[His tone is fairly neutral as he answers, something he's long used to; that's sort of the point of royalty, after all. Even if he wasn't ~the chosen~ it's not like he could go off and become an artist or a game coder or whatever. He doesn't even have a kingdom to rule anymore and he's still duty-bound to fight until he gets the throne back. It sucks, but that's life. Whatever his misgivings about his own qualifications to rule, someone has to.
He has a choice here, though. He fetches his tablet again and starts tracing out the rough outline of a new figure this time. The game needs a lead hero. Someone tall, with a sword. And a cape.]
[ She watches for a moment as he returns to his work, mindful of his neutral tone. Yes, she's known enough royalty in her world to be mindful of their burdens. Some of them wanted glory, another rose to his empire's seat effortlessly, while another simply wanted to return to his demesne far from the capital to tend to his lands in peace.
It is true, he has an opportunity here.
Pyra takes up her tablet, opening another page. Engineering, coding, and electronics is a fare more refined ability of her otherself, but she'll begin to draft some coding as she knows it. Specific to her world, it won't translate much to any of what the locals use here, but it gives her something to brainstorm. ] Loads of time and money, huh?
A spoiled prince? I've never heard of anything before! [ She's tapping away at what she's working on-- some sort of mechanic to make it so that linking together, physically, increases the percentage of damage. Should she add in some sort of law of diminishing returns, if two people pair up more often than with others? Hm... nah. Too complicated.
It's not unlike the mechanic of her own world, when such laws were written into its creation.
Except at this point she glances over to his work and-- ] ....A cape and wings?
[He smirks and says nothing. Spoiled plenty, sure. He couldn't always get what he truly wanted - certain loved ones' attention, for starters - but he'd been indulged in other ways. Until he left home is life had been mostly sheltered and cushy, it could definitely have been worse.
His brows furrow when she leans over, ducking his head a bit.]
[He considers this for a moment, working his way through the logic of that very legitimate problem. It's a fair point! Mobility is important when you're a heroic fighter out to save a princess. ...Prince. He does like the idea of both, and fantasy isn't always logical (that's sort of the point), but the VR is too real now to just ignore it.
Coming to a conclusion at last, he switches tools in the program and starts erasing both.]
[ The taping into her tablet stops. Different species, huh?
Now she is interested. Peering into the depth of her memory means diving into the origin of species of her world, their trees and branches over diverging families and kingdoms over countless millennia. All of their codes lie within her. She knows them by heart, but that sort of coding takes a little bit more thought, precision to map out into proteins and acids in reality. But with a virtual reality, with coding and the like...
She had never thought about it before, but making a video game-- a virtual reality-- is very similar to creating another world. ]
Beings who resemble dragons and a phoenixes... [ She murmurs curiously, but she's finally starting to smile as if she's enjoying herself. ] I think we can create that for you.
And it's in the spirit of things anyway. One of the characters in the original was a dragon who switched sides. No reason why there can't be others.
[And he's all for so-called enemies aligning themselves to the side of justice. Aranea and her team, Ardyn, even Prompto to an extent, though it'd been out of his control. The origin is irrelevant. Actions matter more. It's just a video game, but that stuff is still important.
The figure looks mostly human, but he starts adding little features that stand out- the wings first, then curled talon-like fingers, triangular feathers tucked between the armored plating.]
[ More of his artistic talents emerge the longer they discuss this game. Once more her gaze falls from her own work to look at his. Glancing back at her own brainstorming, she notes that her own contribution is very little compared to what this young man can produce out of his imagination
She clears her page. ]
Oh, were all of the dragons at one point on the opposing side?
[ She was under the impression that there was just one big bad! ]
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But, uh. ] ...Homey?
[ Like... it's stayed in style after how many millennia until Noctis' time? ]
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[In other words: sort of, yes.]
It's pretty much where I lived during envoy dinners when I was too little to know what the hell was going on.
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Mm... [ Sweetly: ] I'm picturing a young Notcis kept safe from stone-face dignitaries beneath his father's cloak. [ Tilting her head, she smiles. Is that image accurate at all? ]
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Nailed it.
[He has no shame; if he'd shared stories of his uncomfortable shuffling about at formal events as a teenager, it might be different, but what child wouldn't be shy in a party full of grown-ups who say a lot without meaning anything, with no one to talk to and no real business being there at all? His memories of those days are vague, but the strongest is burying his face in that comfortable dark material, clutching at a pant leg, his father's hand brushing idly through his hair as he talked to other old men about treaties and trade and the unending war. He'd just wanted Ignis, or his toys, or to hide away in bed. Or to be anything except a prince.]
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A cloak that, in that instance to a young child, would be-- ]
More powerful than any sword or shield, mm?
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[Words aside, his tone makes it obvious that he doesn't disagree. It never seemed to matter what age he is, or what condition his father's in. Whether he's 5 or 20, whether his dad is young and fit or struggling with every step with cane in hand- his father makes him feel safe, and the same goes for his possessions. The Regalia, his clothing... a slice of home, a reminder of what he's lost and what he needs to take back. Feeling it around his shoulders makes him feel small again, curled up in his father's lap in the car with it draped over him like a blanket, letting that deep voice lull him to sleep.
Nostalgic, and not very princely, but maybe he can let himself be a bit self-indulgent. Yeah... he'll keep the cape.]
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She wonders again, why is he here, talking to her when and working on this video game he could be speaking to his father? Or better yet, working on this video game with his father instead?
She reaches for his hand. ]
Your family loves you very much. I hope you will get to play this virtual reality game with all of them.
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Hell yeah, that's the dream. I wanna drag everybody into my trash fantasy.
[No one can tell him that video games are rotting his brain if everyone's in the same dumpster...!]
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She smiles in tandem. ]
T-Trash fantasy? Have some pride! This is your story!
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[It's important to him, but it's still just a silly game.]
I'm okay with that, if it's fun enough that people try it anyway.
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Have electronics and design always interested you?
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No, not always- not until I moved out on my own. The Citadel was kind of more traditional, but Insomnia's this huge hub for technology. Something about being out in the city and seeing it all up close must've kickstarted it for me.
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....She wonders if it weren't for him being a prince, what sort of career he would choose. Sounds like video game development might have been a contender, and here he has that opportunity. A part of her wonders if she should be more insistent with him leaving to go, well, train. The future isn't going to save itself, and he won't be able to save whatever and whoever he's "let down" if he doesn't. However, this is his choice.
--Away from the 'Citadel'. Sounds like a name for a palace of some sort to her. ] Were....you ever able to properly study it on your own? [ ... ] Apart from princely duties?
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[His tone is fairly neutral as he answers, something he's long used to; that's sort of the point of royalty, after all. Even if he wasn't ~the chosen~ it's not like he could go off and become an artist or a game coder or whatever. He doesn't even have a kingdom to rule anymore and he's still duty-bound to fight until he gets the throne back. It sucks, but that's life. Whatever his misgivings about his own qualifications to rule, someone has to.
He has a choice here, though. He fetches his tablet again and starts tracing out the rough outline of a new figure this time. The game needs a lead hero. Someone tall, with a sword. And a cape.]
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It is true, he has an opportunity here.
Pyra takes up her tablet, opening another page. Engineering, coding, and electronics is a fare more refined ability of her otherself, but she'll begin to draft some coding as she knows it. Specific to her world, it won't translate much to any of what the locals use here, but it gives her something to brainstorm. ] Loads of time and money, huh?
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[Thanks for that one, Gladio.
He gives the little figure on his tablet wings, just for the hell of it. A boy, or a girl? He can't decide yet so he leaves it vague.]
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It's not unlike the mechanic of her own world, when such laws were written into its creation.
Except at this point she glances over to his work and-- ] ....A cape and wings?
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His brows furrow when she leans over, ducking his head a bit.]
Too much?
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Coming to a conclusion at last, he switches tools in the program and starts erasing both.]
How about... the wings are the cape.
[THAT'S WAY COOLER]
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Ah-- and they flutter to shift into proper wings? That sounds like an important item.
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[He lightly taps the other side of the sketch, where the dragoon woman is posing.]
If she's the dragon, then maybe... this one's her counterpart. Like a phoenix. Wings that burn up if you use them, but they can come back somehow...
[A magic fire, immortal and born into a new generation? Shit, it really is his story.]
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Now she is interested. Peering into the depth of her memory means diving into the origin of species of her world, their trees and branches over diverging families and kingdoms over countless millennia. All of their codes lie within her. She knows them by heart, but that sort of coding takes a little bit more thought, precision to map out into proteins and acids in reality. But with a virtual reality, with coding and the like...
She had never thought about it before, but making a video game-- a virtual reality-- is very similar to creating another world. ]
Beings who resemble dragons and a phoenixes... [ She murmurs curiously, but she's finally starting to smile as if she's enjoying herself. ] I think we can create that for you.
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[And he's all for so-called enemies aligning themselves to the side of justice. Aranea and her team, Ardyn, even Prompto to an extent, though it'd been out of his control. The origin is irrelevant. Actions matter more. It's just a video game, but that stuff is still important.
The figure looks mostly human, but he starts adding little features that stand out- the wings first, then curled talon-like fingers, triangular feathers tucked between the armored plating.]
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She clears her page. ]
Oh, were all of the dragons at one point on the opposing side?
[ She was under the impression that there was just one big bad! ]
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