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[ When Ignis goes back to their room, he will find a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine. It looks like someone with very little experience in wrapping gifts did it with all earnestness.
In it is a handmade "book" the size of a pack of playing cards but thicker, and on its handmade cover is someone who has little knowledge of craft but very determinedly went through with it anyway: 52 reasons why I love you.
Each page is designed and custom, each one lists down a reason why Noctis loves him, each page colorful and vibrant with scrap material and the occasional flat seashell. If he skims through it, he's bound to see reasons like: I love how you give me butterflies; I love how you're so incredibly smart; The way you kiss; Your incredible skill with knives.
The list goes on and on. On a few pages, there are photos of them -- taken by someone else; but they're at their most candid, and clearly Noctis has wrangled this, pasted the photos onto the little book, and even made craft frames for the photos.
See, Noctis even made a snug little pouch for it so Ignis can carry it anywhere with him if he wants to. Beside the gift, a scribbled note:
Sorry if it looks dumb. You make my days bright and you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm not good with words, but if you're sad or angry or down or whatever, read that book. I hope it reminds you of how important you are to me.
Happy birthday, Ignis. I love you. ]
In it is a handmade "book" the size of a pack of playing cards but thicker, and on its handmade cover is someone who has little knowledge of craft but very determinedly went through with it anyway: 52 reasons why I love you.
Each page is designed and custom, each one lists down a reason why Noctis loves him, each page colorful and vibrant with scrap material and the occasional flat seashell. If he skims through it, he's bound to see reasons like: I love how you give me butterflies; I love how you're so incredibly smart; The way you kiss; Your incredible skill with knives.
The list goes on and on. On a few pages, there are photos of them -- taken by someone else; but they're at their most candid, and clearly Noctis has wrangled this, pasted the photos onto the little book, and even made craft frames for the photos.
See, Noctis even made a snug little pouch for it so Ignis can carry it anywhere with him if he wants to. Beside the gift, a scribbled note:
Sorry if it looks dumb. You make my days bright and you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm not good with words, but if you're sad or angry or down or whatever, read that book. I hope it reminds you of how important you are to me.
Happy birthday, Ignis. I love you. ]
[It really shouldn't affect him as much as it does, this little gift of Noct's. It's apparent as soon as he looks at it just how much time and effort must've gone into assembling it — almost as much, perhaps, as trying to perfect a particular pastry just for the sake of seeing a loved one smile. The thoughtfulness is the same; each page is carefully constructed, however simple in form it might be, and as he flips through the pages, he finds himself quietly warming from the care and attention it offers to him.
They're not all obvious reasons; they're not all lovers' notions. Some of them are sweeter things, more specific things. Things that only someone who cares deeply about him would have observed and remarked on. This is a gift that only Noctis could have given him; it's a recognition that moves him more and more, with every page he turns.
But perhaps the best part of it all is what he discovers isn't included in the book — no talk of sacrifice, no words that invoke thoughts of duty or loyalty or even honor. It's all just for him, not for the role that he serves, and that's the part that makes him choke up a little, in the end.
He gets up, holding the book like it's something precious, and goes to find Noct.]
They're not all obvious reasons; they're not all lovers' notions. Some of them are sweeter things, more specific things. Things that only someone who cares deeply about him would have observed and remarked on. This is a gift that only Noctis could have given him; it's a recognition that moves him more and more, with every page he turns.
But perhaps the best part of it all is what he discovers isn't included in the book — no talk of sacrifice, no words that invoke thoughts of duty or loyalty or even honor. It's all just for him, not for the role that he serves, and that's the part that makes him choke up a little, in the end.
He gets up, holding the book like it's something precious, and goes to find Noct.]
[ Noctis has been very careful never to mention anything about his duty, his loyalty or his work -- so much of his life has been about his loyalty and his position as chamberlain to the king. a great honour, no doubt, but that's not why Noctis treasures and loves him.
It's a collection of the tiniest things and every intimate observation he has of him, the freckles along his shoulder, the mole above the cleft of his ass, the gorgeous line of his jaw, his kindness and intelligence.
All of it has to do with him and not anyone else -- his charm is deliciously rousing, his wit and awkwardness making him even more perfect. Noctis is careful to detail his perceived flaws as something they truly are: desirable and loved.
Today is his day. Today, everything is about him.
Noctis, awkward and not about to witness all the schmoopy things that come from the gift he has given him, is lurking hopefully outside, petting Spot but hoping that Ignis doesn't think his gift too shabby after what Ignis had given him. ]
Hey.
It's a collection of the tiniest things and every intimate observation he has of him, the freckles along his shoulder, the mole above the cleft of his ass, the gorgeous line of his jaw, his kindness and intelligence.
All of it has to do with him and not anyone else -- his charm is deliciously rousing, his wit and awkwardness making him even more perfect. Noctis is careful to detail his perceived flaws as something they truly are: desirable and loved.
Today is his day. Today, everything is about him.
Noctis, awkward and not about to witness all the schmoopy things that come from the gift he has given him, is lurking hopefully outside, petting Spot but hoping that Ignis doesn't think his gift too shabby after what Ignis had given him. ]
Hey.
Hello, darling.
[Well, that's certainly an initial giveaway, isn't it, of just how well the gift had been received. Likewise is the way he wastes no time in crossing over to Noctis and slinging an arm around his waist to pull him in for a kiss.]
I found the gift.
[Well, that's certainly an initial giveaway, isn't it, of just how well the gift had been received. Likewise is the way he wastes no time in crossing over to Noctis and slinging an arm around his waist to pull him in for a kiss.]
I found the gift.
[ The thing with the heart is over, but Noctis is still mulling over the ramifications of it -- of what Ignis had told him right in there, how everything had been tied to him. He thinks of Altissia in ruins, the cold-blooded purpose in Red's eyes, how Pink had trusted him so fully.
He's grooming the chocobos as he thinks about this, and when he's done and ready for breakfast he's strolling into the kitchen, giving Ignis a light touch at the small of his back, intimate and gentle and signalling his presence. ]
Hey. I've been thinking.
He's grooming the chocobos as he thinks about this, and when he's done and ready for breakfast he's strolling into the kitchen, giving Ignis a light touch at the small of his back, intimate and gentle and signalling his presence. ]
Hey. I've been thinking.
[Breakfast is as it always is — steady, dependable, and right on time. It's a spot of deja vu, perhaps, to see the way that he bustles around the kitchen not unlike the way that Blue and Yellow were at the beginning of his heartscape; it seems the two of them are back to working together diligently, this morning.]
Were I a crueler man, I'd ask if you'd hurt yourself, undertaking a task of such magnitude.
[He smiles faintly.]
What's on your mind, Noct?
Were I a crueler man, I'd ask if you'd hurt yourself, undertaking a task of such magnitude.
[He smiles faintly.]
What's on your mind, Noct?
Iggy.
[ Noctis half-laughs, half-groans, punching him in the arm lightly. Breakfast is breakfast, and he can't help but wonder if Blue and Yellow are right there inside him (they are).
He pauses for a moment, trying to figure out how best to put this in terms that wouldn't give rise to misunderstandings. ]
You, actually. Do you... remember what happened in your heart?
[ Noctis half-laughs, half-groans, punching him in the arm lightly. Breakfast is breakfast, and he can't help but wonder if Blue and Yellow are right there inside him (they are).
He pauses for a moment, trying to figure out how best to put this in terms that wouldn't give rise to misunderstandings. ]
You, actually. Do you... remember what happened in your heart?
It's good to see you're feeling better, Shiro. I presume Keith has been taking good care of you — I'm glad for it.
...So you've encountered him, then. Of course, I'm happy to meet up with you wherever is most convenient.
...So you've encountered him, then. Of course, I'm happy to meet up with you wherever is most convenient.
We need to talk about Ardyn.
[ Noctis' words are short, clipped. He's troubled and angry, barely keeping his own temper in check -- although not at Ignis. It's taking all he has to keep himself from going to where Ardyn is and killing him with his bare hands. Or everything at his disposal, he's not actually picky.
But there are considerations. This town, its people. They don't know the threat he presents, and Noctis is savvy enough with public relations to know that Ardyn is really good at it. ]
[ Noctis' words are short, clipped. He's troubled and angry, barely keeping his own temper in check -- although not at Ignis. It's taking all he has to keep himself from going to where Ardyn is and killing him with his bare hands. Or everything at his disposal, he's not actually picky.
But there are considerations. This town, its people. They don't know the threat he presents, and Noctis is savvy enough with public relations to know that Ardyn is really good at it. ]
We certainly do.
[Certainly, after everything. After the forum post. After Prompto. Ardyn is here, and everything is upside-down, and they're rushing faster and faster toward a confrontation that none of them yet have a plan for.]
He's got the advantage on us already, to say the least.
[Certainly, after everything. After the forum post. After Prompto. Ardyn is here, and everything is upside-down, and they're rushing faster and faster toward a confrontation that none of them yet have a plan for.]
He's got the advantage on us already, to say the least.
[ Noctis is pacing, his thoughts on Ardyn, on Ignis, on Prompto -- on anything they can do to use as a precaution. So far, they've been outclassed by that smarmy, saccharine smoothness, but Noctis still can't divine Ardyn's endgame or his intentions, other than the fact that he's a cat with a mouse.
And Noctis really wants to kill him. ]
We have to play along, for now. And tell Nyx not to threaten him in front of everyone. And Prompto --
And Noctis really wants to kill him. ]
We have to play along, for now. And tell Nyx not to threaten him in front of everyone. And Prompto --
[ his first, second, third instinct is to retreat -- to stew and rage, to pull out this dirty, awful, awful thing that's crawled inside of him, rotting from the inside and corroding everything else, everything happy that he'd experienced.
the memories are a constant replay, over and over again on the steps of the citadel as they departed and when regis looks like he has a world of words to say, and noctis, noctis entrusting him to the viper in their midst instead of catching him out and choking him where he stood.
in all of his vicious, raw imaginings, he draws on the darkest, worst parts of him and murders drautos, glauca, where he stands together with his father. he kills him, instead of delivering his father carelessly into the traitor's hands.
but history doesn't change just because you desperately will it so, guilt and horror lodged deep in his chest that he doesn't know what to begin to do with. drautos can't be found in the depths of the forest, and everything is hurting, scabbed over with rage and fury and grief that he doesn't know how to process.
so he goes to the one person who might have an idea, after he's washed all the blood of the dead monsters off in the shower (so maybe he tried to retreat into the forest after all, for a little while), and changed into a fresh set of clothes. noctis is darker, angrier, with an edge to him that doesn't signal sulkiness, only something deeper, something that's cracked with nyx's confession.
he searches for ignis now, spotting the familiar set of his shoulders by the kitchen counter, and maybe he's made the right choice, because this is too heavy for him to bear alone, too much -- he comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist to bury his face in his shoulder.
he should cry. he really should. he clenches his hands around ignis' middle, and finds that he has no tears for any of it left. ]
the memories are a constant replay, over and over again on the steps of the citadel as they departed and when regis looks like he has a world of words to say, and noctis, noctis entrusting him to the viper in their midst instead of catching him out and choking him where he stood.
in all of his vicious, raw imaginings, he draws on the darkest, worst parts of him and murders drautos, glauca, where he stands together with his father. he kills him, instead of delivering his father carelessly into the traitor's hands.
but history doesn't change just because you desperately will it so, guilt and horror lodged deep in his chest that he doesn't know what to begin to do with. drautos can't be found in the depths of the forest, and everything is hurting, scabbed over with rage and fury and grief that he doesn't know how to process.
so he goes to the one person who might have an idea, after he's washed all the blood of the dead monsters off in the shower (so maybe he tried to retreat into the forest after all, for a little while), and changed into a fresh set of clothes. noctis is darker, angrier, with an edge to him that doesn't signal sulkiness, only something deeper, something that's cracked with nyx's confession.
he searches for ignis now, spotting the familiar set of his shoulders by the kitchen counter, and maybe he's made the right choice, because this is too heavy for him to bear alone, too much -- he comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist to bury his face in his shoulder.
he should cry. he really should. he clenches his hands around ignis' middle, and finds that he has no tears for any of it left. ]
[Even in this new era of "Chroma with Ardyn in it", Ignis doesn't make it a point to monitor Noct's whereabouts every moment of every day; he'd go mad from the exertion, if ever he tried, and Noct would grow to resent him for it, anyway. So he plans, and he worries, but he doesn't try to chain Noct to his side or keep him from living his life. He has to trust that Noct can take care of himself, sometimes; like trusting that Noct can take care of him sometimes, too, that's an endeavor easier said than done.
But sometimes he wishes he could. In moments like this, when Noct comes up behind him and leans into him like he's desperate for the support, when he holds him so tight and doesn't say a word, Ignis wishes that he already knew what was wrong, and had planned for it, and had an answer ready and waiting so that Noct wouldn't have to suffer a single minute longer than he already has.]
What is it, darling.
[His voice already knows to be soft. He sets his knife down.]
This is nothing that won't keep. What do you need? Tell me.
But sometimes he wishes he could. In moments like this, when Noct comes up behind him and leans into him like he's desperate for the support, when he holds him so tight and doesn't say a word, Ignis wishes that he already knew what was wrong, and had planned for it, and had an answer ready and waiting so that Noct wouldn't have to suffer a single minute longer than he already has.]
What is it, darling.
[His voice already knows to be soft. He sets his knife down.]
This is nothing that won't keep. What do you need? Tell me.
[ Ignis is impossibly gentle, and for a mad, mad moment Noctis thinks he might have the solution for all of this, as if Ignis hasn't seen Regis as a surrogate father. As if the loss hadn't hit him, too. He responds by clenching tighter all the same, selfish as he is, and desperate for anything Ignis could give him.
He's hurting, everything about this is hurting, and he presses his face to the wing of his shoulder, the words threatening to choke the very life of him. He can feel Ignis tense and worry, the ripple of lean muscle underneath his hold, and he wishes he had better news. ]
It was Drautos.
[ He says at last, finally, thick with rage, with guilt, with anguish. ]
He killed Dad. He's the -- [ His fingers curl now, into the impeccable material of Ignis' shirt, and he wishes it's Drautos' face he could crush. ]
He's hurting, everything about this is hurting, and he presses his face to the wing of his shoulder, the words threatening to choke the very life of him. He can feel Ignis tense and worry, the ripple of lean muscle underneath his hold, and he wishes he had better news. ]
It was Drautos.
[ He says at last, finally, thick with rage, with guilt, with anguish. ]
He killed Dad. He's the -- [ His fingers curl now, into the impeccable material of Ignis' shirt, and he wishes it's Drautos' face he could crush. ]
[IGNIS! Whatcha doing? Never mind that, now you're getting accosted by a blond superball boinging into your space.]
Iggy, guess what! You'll never guess, I'll just tell you. Guess what I heard from your new space bud!
[So much for 'you'll never guess.']
Iggy, guess what! You'll never guess, I'll just tell you. Guess what I heard from your new space bud!
[So much for 'you'll never guess.']
...Just how many "space buds" do I have, exactly? Hello, Prompto.
[He says, giving a last few punches to the pizza dough he's been working up, before shaping it into a neat ball and setting it aside to rest.]
Please, by all means, do tell.
[He says, giving a last few punches to the pizza dough he's been working up, before shaping it into a neat ball and setting it aside to rest.]
Please, by all means, do tell.
You. And me.
[He holds Ignis's arm with both hands, staring up at him with his eyes sparkling with hilarity.]
Are madly in love. For our whole lives! [Gasping dramatically, he leans against the counter, one hand drawn back to his heart.] Why didn't you tell me, my dear sir!
[He holds Ignis's arm with both hands, staring up at him with his eyes sparkling with hilarity.]
Are madly in love. For our whole lives! [Gasping dramatically, he leans against the counter, one hand drawn back to his heart.] Why didn't you tell me, my dear sir!
I've looked everywhere I can think of, twice.
The color is gone in Flavo. The house they assigned to him.
The color is gone in Flavo. The house they assigned to him.
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