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Entry tags:
i'm not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts.
WHO: Ignis and Noctis
WHERE: The farm, other places, w/e
WHEN: 1 May, early evening.
WHAT: Farming. Noctis helps.
WARNINGS: Nothing so far.
[ Noctis worries, in private.
He worries that he cannot save Luna, after all. He worries that he cannot save Ignis from whatever fate has in store for him before this town swept him up and took him here. Ignis tells him all that he can about that day -- and Noctis runs through it over and over in his head, intent on remembering it when he returns.
He has to; two lives hang in the balance.
He reaches for Ignis more and more often, finally understanding how his advisor and his longest, closest friend felt in the first few weeks they'd been here, as if not quite believing that the other is still alive and kicking and unhurt, the near-constant, irrational need for reassurance that he keeps tightly under wraps. Of course, the regular close proximity in such a place means Noctis eventually gets to find out even more of Ignis' habits -- the man has always been a comforting constant; his familiar presence, his loyalty, intelligence, warmth and wit keeps him grounded, and makes everything... easier, like a precious piece of home is still with him.
So here he is now, helping Ignis out with the farming in this patch of land under the guise of having fries as a reward (but really, he just wanted to be near him -- the effects of an awful nightmare the night before), helping to lift and till where needed, weeding and trimming -- it's hard work, and he's straightening up with a basket of half a dozen potatoes. He's pleased now, holding out the basket to him. ]
Think this is enough for us both? I still have the fish I caught this afternoon.
WHERE: The farm, other places, w/e
WHEN: 1 May, early evening.
WHAT: Farming. Noctis helps.
WARNINGS: Nothing so far.
[ Noctis worries, in private.
He worries that he cannot save Luna, after all. He worries that he cannot save Ignis from whatever fate has in store for him before this town swept him up and took him here. Ignis tells him all that he can about that day -- and Noctis runs through it over and over in his head, intent on remembering it when he returns.
He has to; two lives hang in the balance.
He reaches for Ignis more and more often, finally understanding how his advisor and his longest, closest friend felt in the first few weeks they'd been here, as if not quite believing that the other is still alive and kicking and unhurt, the near-constant, irrational need for reassurance that he keeps tightly under wraps. Of course, the regular close proximity in such a place means Noctis eventually gets to find out even more of Ignis' habits -- the man has always been a comforting constant; his familiar presence, his loyalty, intelligence, warmth and wit keeps him grounded, and makes everything... easier, like a precious piece of home is still with him.
So here he is now, helping Ignis out with the farming in this patch of land under the guise of having fries as a reward (but really, he just wanted to be near him -- the effects of an awful nightmare the night before), helping to lift and till where needed, weeding and trimming -- it's hard work, and he's straightening up with a basket of half a dozen potatoes. He's pleased now, holding out the basket to him. ]
Think this is enough for us both? I still have the fish I caught this afternoon.
no subject
There's a reason why anger follows on the heels of sadness, and that's because anger is sadness with motivation, despair with a direction. If tragedy is the origin point, then anger is the ray that extends out from it, traveling a new trajectory forward toward whatever comes next. Anger breeds action, and action has always been the way of coping that makes the most sense to Ignis, whose life has revolved around taking problems and setbacks and turning them into answers and opportunities for as long as he can genuinely remember.
One cannot lead by standing still, after all, and though Ignis has never been born to lead, that doesn't mean he hasn't still embraced the value of the sentiment. A king pushes onward always, accepting the consequences and never looking back.
But of course, sometimes his need to act isn't solely for his own benefit. Sometimes it's simply out of recognition of the fact that Noctis is more than just the king, more than just the one destined to lead. Noct is still Noct, and sometimes taking action means sparing Noctis the need to — because all that matters is that they stay moving forward, even if Noct isn't necessarily the one doing it himself. It gives him the space to breathe. It gives him the room to grieve.
Noct has always occupied those two simultaneous, juxtaposed, yet sometimes conflicting spheres, for Ignis. He serves his king, and the destiny that awaits him. And yet he also serves Noct, and would burn to the ground anything, Astrals or daemons or anything in between, that threatened his happiness for even an instant.
So it makes for a conflicting state of affairs, these days, and so he copes the way that he always copes: with action. He cooks, he exercises the chocobos, he trains, he cleans. He finds activities to occupy him, things with genuine appreciable value in their outcomes. He gardens, aggressively, because it's useful, and because home cooking is familiar, and will make Noct happy.
He notices, of course, when Noct starts staying closer and closer to him, and he's not entirely sure if that's because Noct is worried about him or just trying to make sure he's carried along in Ignis's wake, so as not to wind up standing still, himself.
Still, it's welcomed, and it's nice. It's the sort of thing that brings them out to the garden this afternoon, plucking out weeds and tending to the flourishing plants, and accumulating a small harvest of potatoes that thankfully still have flavor to them, because evidently Noct is eager for fish and chips as a treat, and it's hardly as though Ignis is going to deny him.]
That depends entirely on how much you intend to eat, I think.
[His handle on portion control has gone so awry, since coming here. He's used to cooking for four and a half (thanks, Gladio), but lately it's been anywhere from two to sevenish, and he's been constantly adapting on the fly, to compensate.]
How many eyes does the fish have, out of curiosity? Hopefully not more than the potatoes do.
[Puns.]
no subject
But he tries. He works hard at it and circles through every possible outcome, every possible method of action, picking apart and poring through something he can do, anything, once he returns to his world and his time and prevents the tragedy that has already befallen in Ignis' time. Ignis has done the best he can, and he had only gotten hurt for his troubles -- he will never forget the relief he'd seen on Ignis' face when he realised he was fine and in one piece.
Ignis, more loyal and dedicated than anyone he knows; the one constant in his life that's always present, always moving, holding out a lifeline even if it doesn't look that way. Ignis moves ahead and Noctis stays close to him, moving together with him -- a king cannot stand still and pushes onward always, and even if Noctis sometimes doesn't feel like a king, he understands the inevitability of his destiny.
He has a duty to the ones that he loves so dearly, and he has a duty to his people. So Noctis helps out because he wants to, because there's something fulfilling, at least, about working together with Ignis in companionable conversation, knowing that he's right here with him. Soon, Noctis will take the lead, he will have to be the one to make the hard calls, he will have to assume the mantle of king and protector, and a part of him is apprehensive.
What if he fails Ignis, all of them? What if all these years of preparation ultimately come to nothing?
He knows it's his insecurities talking, and not for the first time he wonders just how Ignis manages to keep it all together like this, efficient and competent, whipping things into shape in the scant weeks that they've spent here. It's how he copes, he knows; there is so much more roiling underneath the surface with Ignis (after all, he had woken the other man up from the throes of his nightmares, been privy to an actual, more vulnerable Ignis), but in moments like these, it's easy to envy how he seems to have it all in order.
Noctis takes a breath when Ignis talks about potatoes -- it's a treat for them both, and even if the taste of the fish could be better, it's Ignis' fries he's looking forward to. ]
I think it was three. So not ap-peeling, but it'll do.
[ He can pun too, Iggy. Noctis cracks a smile, relaxes into the conversation despite himself; it's difficult not to when Ignis is here with him like this, and in Ignis lies a promise that he would hold the sky up for Noctis even if it were to fall.
He understands that promise to his bones, and it's up to Noctis now to make sure he is worthy of his faith. ]
no subject
[He pauses in his work, glancing sidelong at Noctis with his body in a crouch and his dusty hands hanging off his knees where his wrists are resting atop them, checking for the smile he hears in Noct's voice and rewarded by the sight of it when his eyes find their way to his face.]
And eye, for one, am looking forward to getting this meal prepared. Care to assist with that chore, as well? Or have you done your due service for the day already?
no subject
Noctis pauses at that one, ignoring the strange flutter in his pulse at those words -- the errant, flickering thought of what does he find beautiful? -- before it's just as quickly dispelled, banished to the back of his mind. His gaze meets his own, and there's something about Ignis simply crouching there, sleeves folded up to his elbows and a sheen of sweat making his skin almost glow that he has to take a second, third look.
Ridiculous. He's seen him like this before, and yet, it feels like he's discovering him all over again. He's the first to look away, lifting the potatoes in the basket with a soft grunt. ]
'm all yours, boss. [ He drawls. ] The faster we prepare these spuds, the quicker we can eat, right?
[ Not like Noctis hadn't helped out before -- despite his quips to the contrary, he'd quite enjoyed his time preparing food together with Ignis. ]
no subject
[The three-eyed fish. It's still so weird and kind of uncomfortable, but eh. The hungry can't very well be picky — unless they're Noctis, of course.]
...Though I admit, working out how to prepare the local fare has had me floundering more often than not.
no subject
[ Noctis drawls -- his attention isn't on the fish, it's on the inevitable outcome of delicious, crispy fries made just right. Noctis blithely ignores the rest of the vegetables as he holds on to the basket of spuds, more than happy to guard them with his life.
And here they are, punning away. With any luck, Ignis will be distracted enough by the three-eyed fish to forgo some sort of weird salad he usually makes. ]
no subject
[That is the worst attempt at pronouncing "bluefin" like "bluffing" that the world has ever witnessed, and yet here we are.
Still, all the puns in the world can't hide the figurative great white whale in the room, and so it isn't long before the topic of conversation inevitably drifts to something a little more solemn.]
...You had another bad night last night, I gather.
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He doesn't like this great white whale. ]
Kinda. [ He says noncommittally, trying to find the best way to say it without coming across like some sort of a wuss. It's bad enough Ignis had to wake and comfort him and put him back together again. ] But it happens. Not like it's new to you.
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[He echoes the phrase softly, a quiet affirmation of Noct's admission, and lets the thought hang while they walk in silence for another few steps before carefully taking it up again.]
I'm concerned it's been happening more often, lately. Since...
[Tactful. Be tactful. Honest, concise, but tactful.]
...Since the discussion we had. About the things I remember.
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I'm going to fix it, Iggy.
[ Noctis says sharply, an edge of something resembling desperation in his voice, and anger at his own helplessness. How many people must die and get hurt for him before it's enough? ]
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[The remark is neither judgmental nor accusatory in the slightest; quite the contrary, it's a simple and soft statement of fact, one of Ignis's tiny "aha"s given multisyllabic form.]
Noct, I doubt you've slept through the night once in the whole of this week.
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Ignis is worried about him, when it seems more likely that Ignis himself going to get killed or something, and he doesn't know whether to laugh or snap. Ignis is thinking about him even when his fate is unknown, and the prince cannot help but look over at him for a few brief moments just to see it for himself.
Gods, how crazy is this? ]
Is that important? It just -- I have to stop it from happening to you and Luna.
[ And he's trying to figure out what to do, running a hundred thousand scenarios in his head, a hundred thousand different ways to thwart what happens. ]
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[He knows that there's a measure of hypocrisy in the point he's trying to make, when he himself is never one to turn off his tendency to think through thousands of possible scenarios and obsess over each and every one, but it's just different when it's Noctis. Noct has so much to bear, already, as it is. It should be the responsibility of others to lighten his load, to take some of those cares away.
And yet, what can he possibly do about things that have already happened? What recourse is there for it — to turn back time and do it all differently?]
I'm only suggesting that we try to find some...means...of addressing this.
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More or less. ]
What about you? You're doing way more than you used to, as well.
[ Pot, meet kettle. And like hell Noctis is going to let a snippet like that get away from him when it's obvious Ignis isn't following his own advice. He notices. ]
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[Which, he knows, is unnecessarily provocative, and almost as soon as he says it, he halfway wishes he hadn't. It may be true that Noct's impulse is to turn things around on him and call him on his hypocrisy; he can't even begin to deny that. But a dodge is a dodge, and changing the subject is preventing them from getting to the heart of the matter.]
I'm suggesting you need an outlet. Your nightmares aren't going to simply up and go away on their own.
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He's never got a chance for that ever since they'd set off on the road, but here, maybe... ]
What're you suggesting?
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So what would Gladio do, in a moment like this? Maybe that's the answer. What would Gladio say is the right way of going about something like this?
...First and foremost, Gladio would say to stop spoiling Noct. And — no, Ignis can't do that, not the way that Gladio can. But.]
I'm suggesting you cut loose, temporarily.
[He'll have to phrase this carefully, but fortunately, phrasing is generally something he can do well.]
I think it a bit unwise for you to unload on Nyx, as that would necessitate several explanations for things that I doubt you want to give. And while there are presumably others here who could keep up with you, I expect you'd find yourself holding back against them, for a variety of reasons.
[He resists the urge to twitch his fingers, himself.]
I, however, know precisely what you're capable of. And more importantly, you know for a fact that I'm perfectly capable of defending myself against you, which should make it easier for you to act without holding yourself back.
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Noctis settles back as realization dawns on his features. Ignis wants him to cut loose, with him. While Ignis' methods might not always be the best, they're one hell of a lot less abrasive and impatient than Gladio's, which is why he's more willing to listen, and why it chafes slightly less coming from him.
He considers this, knowing that Ignis is more than capable of handling whatever he can deal out to him. Ignis, who can foresee what he needs, who seems to sense the growing restlessness Noctis tries to keep at bay. He needs it, and perhaps, so does Ignis. ]
All right. When are we doing this?