Ignis Scientia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chef_chocobro) wrote2022-06-15 07:18 am
chef_chocobro) wrote2022-06-15 07:18 am
The Estate of the First Secretary; Altissia, Accordo; Eos. Thursday, 06/23 ET [06/15 FT].
The cake had been received with…very mixed reviews. Even with knowing he was likely slowing Prompto down, especially since he could practically feel the complex tangle of nervous and excited and heartbroken energy radiating off of him, Ignis was loathed to tell him to go on ahead, he'd catch up. Mostly because he knew if he did, then Prompto would try and help him. He wasn't going to let this distract from his moment, though. He could handle himself just fine; he knew this particular path between the kitchen and their quarters quite well by now. It wasn't even a vision thing at this point, it was just that, even after a week, his body still ached and protested against the ordeal it had been put through at the Altar.
But they did eventually make it, picking up a Gladio on the way where he sat in the sitting room outside their bedrooms, where Ignis assumed he'd been pouring over maps of the Empire. Ignis' memory of them was good, but they needed far better than good if they were going to be heading straight into enemy territory.
"What's all this?" Gladio asked, and Ignis heard him rising from his seat, and just met the question with a soft shake of his head, a lift of his hand. Just let it be, it seemed to say. Let's allow him to have at least this.
Prompto lead the way, then, though the door to Noct's room, where he sang out, "Wakey-wakey! Rise and shine! I come bearing cake!"
The soft grunt that Noctis gave in response seemed to suck every bit energy from the room.
"Are you serious right now?"
Prompto's breath gave a small hitch, a brief stammer of surprise. "I…I, uh….it's Liz's birthday," he explained. "I thought maybe we could celebrate."
"We've had so little to celebrate, lately," Ignis put in softly, delicately. "It seemed unwise to pass up the opportunity."
The silence that followed was tangible.
And, unfortunately, nothing new. It had only been a few days, since Noctis had come around to full awareness, and each day had held a similar weight to the air around him. The weight of everything that hand transpired over the last month, the last week particularly. Ignis felt himself drawing in a deep breath, his heightened awareness of these things since the loss of his vision making it feel almost suffocating.
"I'm really not that hungry," said Noctis, eventually.
Dismissively.
"H-hey," Prompto stammered out, "man, that's….that's cool. I mean, I guess it is pretty early for cake. We can totally just save it for later; it's not going anywhe--"
But Gladio cut off Prompto's appeals with a sudden burst of anger.
"What is with you?" he demanded. "Prompto's trying to do something nice--"
"Sorry," Noctis snapped back, "I don't really feel like celebrating right now."
"Hey, hey, no, it's totally fine," Prompto started to put in hurriedly, but his soft attempts to placate the situation were run over by Gladio's words like a stampede.
"You could at least try!" Gladio shouted. "Like the rest of us are!"
"I am trying," Noctis growled out.
"Well," said Gladio, "try hard--"
But Ignis finally managed to make it over to Gladio, placing a hand on his shoulder after one failed attempt that found his arm instead. The muscles underneath his hand immediately tensed as Gladio stiffened under the soft touch. "We're all doing what we can," Ignis said, gentle but firm. "Perhaps we should see who else might like to partake. The Secretary, perhaps, or maybe we'll even pay Weskham a visit. But we'll be sure to save you a slice for later."
Another dragging silence. The shifting of a body and bedsheets.
"....thanks," said Noct.
"Come on, Prompto," Gladio growled, the steadying weight of him suddenly gone from underneath Ignis' hand as he felt him pass by like a truck, "let's go."
Ignis, however, waited, his head turned toward the door as he waited for them to make their exit, to hear their steps better as they receded away. And then, after waiting for longer than he probably needed to, he sighed, taking a moment to consider Noctis.
To remember. Everything he'd gone through to get them to this point.
Everything they'd sacrificed.
And, if the visions that Pryna had bestowed to him on that fateful night, everything they still had left to lose.
And he thought about a promise made, sixteen years ago, to Noctis' father, that he would do everything in his power to always stand by Noct and…most of all….protect him.
And wondering if that meant protecting him even from himself. Protecting him at all costs, even for the sake of everything else.
Slowly, he began to walk toward the bed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, softly, gently pressing, his concern and empathy particularly clear now that they were by themselves.
Ignis heard the softness of a body falling back against the pillows, and all Noctis had to offer in response, other than that, was a long, drawn out sigh, filled with exhaustion and frustration and….so many other things.
Ignis' slow steps stopped when the tip of his boot hit the edge of the stool there beside the king's bed. He paused for a moment, before reaching down to feel for its height, and then, carefully, lowered himself down into it. Shifted one way, then the other, to settle into some modicum of comfort before he leaned forward on his elbows against his knees. Trying to decide exactly how to express what he was feeling. That had never exactly been his strong suit, especially not when so much of his life had been about suppressing them.
"Noct," he started, and, already, he struggled. He knew what he was about to suggest, knew that it was not something to be taken lightly. Knew that, by suggesting it, Eos could be entirely lost. Lucis would undoubtedly be so. But if it managed to save Noctis, wouldn't it be worth it? Wasn't that his duty, above all else?
"Perhaps," he finally ventured, "it might be best....if we brought out journey to a close."
The feeling of shock from Noctis sliced through like knife. There was scrambling, on the bed, as he pulled himself up, and his voice got closer. "Why?"
Ignis winced. Just slightly. "It's just that…um…."
So rare was he at such an utter loss of words. "We've already lost...so much."
How could he even say that it felt so unbearable, knowing that they'd be losing him, as well?
But none of the futures were set in stone. Fandom had shown them so many different ones, there was no reason to believe that this could still couldn't change.
"Too much," Ignis added.
"Are you kidding me?" Noctis breathed out, before Ignis had even finished with that addendum, and when he continued, his own voice was filled with desperation. And passion. And determination. "That's exactly why I have to keep going. Because, if I give up now, their sacrifices would have been for nothing!"
That last word, in particular, hit like a punch, but it was nothing compared to the pain the faint strain of disgust in the next words would inspire.
"And you," Noctis breathed out, before it turned into almost a sob, "you. Of all people..."
The heat and the anger and this disappointment softened, though. "You should know that better than anyone."
A long moment pasted before Ignis seemingly remembered how to breath, letting it out in a long rush as he made his decision. As he understood now where Noctis stood. And what it would mean to stand with him.
"The decision," he said, rolling uncomfortably back to his feet, taking a few steps back toward the door, "is yours to make….and yours alone. But do remember…we will stand with you. Always. And help you bear your burdens."
He turned his head toward him, wishing more than anything that he could just look at Noctis, that he could see him, and that Noctis would see him in return. And perhaps….just a little….knowing that Noctis could see him, that he'd see the burned and scarred flesh there on that side of Ignis' face…and be reminded of the truth in these next words.
"Don't be afraid," he said, "to let us share the load."
He gave a small nod, and walked again toward the door. "I'll be back," he assured Noctis gently, and went to take his leave.
Flinching, only for a moment, at a sudden pain flaring up inside of his head, a ringing in his skull, a flash of warning before another burst of the vision came rushing back to him. It was the same one, every time, of Noctis there, on the throne, slumping forward lifeless as his hand slipped from his sword. Ignis pressed two fingers to his forehead as the searing vision passed, leaving faint traces of the ringing in its wake. He grimaced, gave his head a shake as if to just brush it off, to push it away, and left the room.
[[ how much drama can I squeeze into one cake? At least four tens. That's as many as 40 cakes! Anyway, standard terms and conditions apply, you know the drill by now~ The bit between Noctis and Ignis alone taken directly from the ending of Episode Ignis ]]
But they did eventually make it, picking up a Gladio on the way where he sat in the sitting room outside their bedrooms, where Ignis assumed he'd been pouring over maps of the Empire. Ignis' memory of them was good, but they needed far better than good if they were going to be heading straight into enemy territory.
"What's all this?" Gladio asked, and Ignis heard him rising from his seat, and just met the question with a soft shake of his head, a lift of his hand. Just let it be, it seemed to say. Let's allow him to have at least this.
Prompto lead the way, then, though the door to Noct's room, where he sang out, "Wakey-wakey! Rise and shine! I come bearing cake!"
The soft grunt that Noctis gave in response seemed to suck every bit energy from the room.
"Are you serious right now?"
Prompto's breath gave a small hitch, a brief stammer of surprise. "I…I, uh….it's Liz's birthday," he explained. "I thought maybe we could celebrate."
"We've had so little to celebrate, lately," Ignis put in softly, delicately. "It seemed unwise to pass up the opportunity."
The silence that followed was tangible.
And, unfortunately, nothing new. It had only been a few days, since Noctis had come around to full awareness, and each day had held a similar weight to the air around him. The weight of everything that hand transpired over the last month, the last week particularly. Ignis felt himself drawing in a deep breath, his heightened awareness of these things since the loss of his vision making it feel almost suffocating.
"I'm really not that hungry," said Noctis, eventually.
Dismissively.
"H-hey," Prompto stammered out, "man, that's….that's cool. I mean, I guess it is pretty early for cake. We can totally just save it for later; it's not going anywhe--"
But Gladio cut off Prompto's appeals with a sudden burst of anger.
"What is with you?" he demanded. "Prompto's trying to do something nice--"
"Sorry," Noctis snapped back, "I don't really feel like celebrating right now."
"Hey, hey, no, it's totally fine," Prompto started to put in hurriedly, but his soft attempts to placate the situation were run over by Gladio's words like a stampede.
"You could at least try!" Gladio shouted. "Like the rest of us are!"
"I am trying," Noctis growled out.
"Well," said Gladio, "try hard--"
But Ignis finally managed to make it over to Gladio, placing a hand on his shoulder after one failed attempt that found his arm instead. The muscles underneath his hand immediately tensed as Gladio stiffened under the soft touch. "We're all doing what we can," Ignis said, gentle but firm. "Perhaps we should see who else might like to partake. The Secretary, perhaps, or maybe we'll even pay Weskham a visit. But we'll be sure to save you a slice for later."
Another dragging silence. The shifting of a body and bedsheets.
"....thanks," said Noct.
"Come on, Prompto," Gladio growled, the steadying weight of him suddenly gone from underneath Ignis' hand as he felt him pass by like a truck, "let's go."
Ignis, however, waited, his head turned toward the door as he waited for them to make their exit, to hear their steps better as they receded away. And then, after waiting for longer than he probably needed to, he sighed, taking a moment to consider Noctis.
To remember. Everything he'd gone through to get them to this point.
Everything they'd sacrificed.
And, if the visions that Pryna had bestowed to him on that fateful night, everything they still had left to lose.
And he thought about a promise made, sixteen years ago, to Noctis' father, that he would do everything in his power to always stand by Noct and…most of all….protect him.
And wondering if that meant protecting him even from himself. Protecting him at all costs, even for the sake of everything else.
Slowly, he began to walk toward the bed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, softly, gently pressing, his concern and empathy particularly clear now that they were by themselves.
Ignis heard the softness of a body falling back against the pillows, and all Noctis had to offer in response, other than that, was a long, drawn out sigh, filled with exhaustion and frustration and….so many other things.
Ignis' slow steps stopped when the tip of his boot hit the edge of the stool there beside the king's bed. He paused for a moment, before reaching down to feel for its height, and then, carefully, lowered himself down into it. Shifted one way, then the other, to settle into some modicum of comfort before he leaned forward on his elbows against his knees. Trying to decide exactly how to express what he was feeling. That had never exactly been his strong suit, especially not when so much of his life had been about suppressing them.
"Noct," he started, and, already, he struggled. He knew what he was about to suggest, knew that it was not something to be taken lightly. Knew that, by suggesting it, Eos could be entirely lost. Lucis would undoubtedly be so. But if it managed to save Noctis, wouldn't it be worth it? Wasn't that his duty, above all else?
"Perhaps," he finally ventured, "it might be best....if we brought out journey to a close."
The feeling of shock from Noctis sliced through like knife. There was scrambling, on the bed, as he pulled himself up, and his voice got closer. "Why?"
Ignis winced. Just slightly. "It's just that…um…."
So rare was he at such an utter loss of words. "We've already lost...so much."
How could he even say that it felt so unbearable, knowing that they'd be losing him, as well?
But none of the futures were set in stone. Fandom had shown them so many different ones, there was no reason to believe that this could still couldn't change.
"Too much," Ignis added.
"Are you kidding me?" Noctis breathed out, before Ignis had even finished with that addendum, and when he continued, his own voice was filled with desperation. And passion. And determination. "That's exactly why I have to keep going. Because, if I give up now, their sacrifices would have been for nothing!"
That last word, in particular, hit like a punch, but it was nothing compared to the pain the faint strain of disgust in the next words would inspire.
"And you," Noctis breathed out, before it turned into almost a sob, "you. Of all people..."
The heat and the anger and this disappointment softened, though. "You should know that better than anyone."
A long moment pasted before Ignis seemingly remembered how to breath, letting it out in a long rush as he made his decision. As he understood now where Noctis stood. And what it would mean to stand with him.
"The decision," he said, rolling uncomfortably back to his feet, taking a few steps back toward the door, "is yours to make….and yours alone. But do remember…we will stand with you. Always. And help you bear your burdens."
He turned his head toward him, wishing more than anything that he could just look at Noctis, that he could see him, and that Noctis would see him in return. And perhaps….just a little….knowing that Noctis could see him, that he'd see the burned and scarred flesh there on that side of Ignis' face…and be reminded of the truth in these next words.
"Don't be afraid," he said, "to let us share the load."
He gave a small nod, and walked again toward the door. "I'll be back," he assured Noctis gently, and went to take his leave.
Flinching, only for a moment, at a sudden pain flaring up inside of his head, a ringing in his skull, a flash of warning before another burst of the vision came rushing back to him. It was the same one, every time, of Noctis there, on the throne, slumping forward lifeless as his hand slipped from his sword. Ignis pressed two fingers to his forehead as the searing vision passed, leaving faint traces of the ringing in its wake. He grimaced, gave his head a shake as if to just brush it off, to push it away, and left the room.
[[ how much drama can I squeeze into one cake? At least four tens. That's as many as 40 cakes! Anyway, standard terms and conditions apply, you know the drill by now~ The bit between Noctis and Ignis alone taken directly from the ending of Episode Ignis ]]