love / blinded .

                                                        ❝    oh  .  .  .   ❞  

& guilt would filter through him like digital photographs on a tiny screen of mind. something about this situation is vulnerable – more vulnerable than he’s known, more vulnerable than he’s used to. the way ignis’ hair clings to his face, the way his eyes stare unmoving, refusing to find comfort in anything, especially not the blue irises that look to him with concern, understanding, tinted with a hint of self - loathing. if only he hadn’t pried into unwelcome territory. caution tape exists for a reason.

ignis is obviously uncomfortable. well, not so obviously. not to most, at least, but prompto is graced with a cursed blessing of empathetic nature, a brutal understanding of the way of the heart. 

he looks down. some accusation of his nosiness pulls at his core & he knows that even honest intentions can be misconstrued. he knows that mistakes have been made & that he may have caused more harm than, well, anything else – perhaps that’s what weighs on him the most. he sinks like a ship that’s met face with a heaviness that cannot hold itself above sea-level, like it doesn’t deserve to breathe the oxygen granted to it freely. he doesn’t know where to put his hands & so he becomes painfully aware of their existence – large, unbecoming, uncomfortable, like they don’t belong & he can’t do anything about it. an uncanny similarity. he folds them together to minimize the space they take up, though it’s obvious how awkward, how stiff & uncomfortable it looks. the curious have no shame, he says, but the shame he feels right now is borderline unbearable. prompto might’ve laughed at the thought, weren’t the situation already so tense.

though, ignis explains anyways, an explanation he probably doesn’t deserve with the way his heart stings through his comments, however valid they may be. painfully honest, he is, though prompto finds it admirable amidst his realm of self - inflicted pity. despite the world that encases him & his worries, his woes, his fears, himself, he eases out into another flesh, something reassuring, however mildly unstable. 

his voice is quiet & moves like quaking nerves when he speaks. confidence eludes him entirely.

                                                        ❝    nah, i just  .  .  .  didn’t know. um. i don’t really think that’s somethin’ you gotta justify, iggy. ‘s cool if you wanna get somethin’ for yourself, y’know ? it seems pretty important. sounds like it’s more than just a trinket to you.  ❞  

& some reality sinks in that he doesn’t know ignis. he knows some of him, some outside surface that’s him, but not him. he knows, because he’s the same way, & as his journey’s allowed his entrance into more & more lives, he’s begun to believe that the same is true for everyone. a closed off center, past guarded by the present. he doesn’t know him, but he believes, now, that he’d like to. in this instance, almost more than anything.

               ❝    haven’t heard much about your earlier years  .  .  .  !  ❞  

                                                guess you could say the same about me.

                                                              ❝    what was she like ?  ❞  

                prompto is awkward  ,  unsure  ,  resembling    a newborn gazelle taking first steps in near all he does   ------   that is the first thing ignis noticed about him  ,  some time ago  ,  and he doubts he’ll ever grow out of it .  it displays itself prominently now  ,  too  ,  however  ;  a tongue tripping over itself in its haste to make room for all the things he wants to say and all the directions he’d like the conversation to  go  ,  always the victim in the aftermath of his own meddling in that no one could possible be as uncertain of how to react as the boy who initiated the entire situation .  he doesn’t mind it  ,  considers it a  quirk  of the sharp - shooter’s  ,  though  ...  he’s unsure he wishes to delve into the topic of his  recently deceased  mother with one lacking any social graces .

                he looks prompto’s face over  ,  briefly  ,  and bites back the sigh that forms in his chest  ;  ignis wonders if he knows how strongly he resembles a  puppy  sitting upon someone’s doorstep waiting to be let in .  nervous and shy but as sincere as he is hopeful they’ve already come this far in the quiet of the hotel room  ,  music box out of sight but not out of  mind  ,  and he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to speak of her .  it should be easy enough  ,  to pretend his heart is not in  knots  when he speaks of her in the  past tense .

                ❛  my mother ?  ❜      he asks  ,  a thoughtful hum to follow as if choosing the words to describe her best  /  as though he isn’t already perfectly aware of the person she is  ,  was  ,  could have been .      ❛  she was loud  ,  in every sense of the word .  always had something to say and would ensure she was heard  ,  no matter how badly someone may not have wanted to hear it .  stubborn  ,  would also be a good way to describe her .  ❜      a small smile twitches at the corners of his lips  ,  unable to help the warmth that blossoms in his rib cage at the thought of her standing on the dining room table when he was six  ,  hands on her hips as she scolded her charge  ,  a man a decade older and several bloodlines more blue .  you’ll never witness a scene like that again  a voice whispers in the back of his mind and he’s quick to  shut it up .  he can mourn later  ,  when this is all over .

not now .

                ❛  but she was kind  ,  more than anything else .  the kind of woman who would’ve happily broken her spine in two if she thought it would help someone else .  ❜      pause .  he shifts his weight between his feet  ,  crossed arms soon unraveling to allow left hand to pick up wallet from nearby nightstand .  there’s a photo in back of it that he produces  ,  carefully  ,  staring down at it while he continues  :      ❛  i like to think i got my wit and honest tongue from her but beyond that  ...  we were quite different from one another  ,  in most respects .  ❜

pvris  /  not accepting  /  @maskedsin aka corvo stole ardyn’s face in a back alley brawl

                a specter  ;  something left behind  ,  something less    than a hollow shell   ------   the contents  ,  scooped out  ,  grasping in the dark for a purpose  ,  meaning  ,  to the phantom pains that exist where limbs once were and seeking an understanding to the monotony of long hallways with no end  ,  walls that he slips right through .  something incomplete and yearning  /  something dead  ,  unaware it’s dead .  if he hates the words that spew from the chancellor’s mouth it is because he hates this  man  /  it’s because he knows he’s right  ,  whoever it was he could’ve been long since buried kilometers beneath the soil and in his place is whatever remained  ,  whatever was necessary to the task of looking over  crowned prince .  there’s nothing more to him than that and even if if there were  ,  he’s too far removed to identify it by now .

                not that he plans on  vocalizing  this  ,  of course  ,  instead opting to square his jaw and bite down all the things he  wants  to say along with any affirmation he could’ve given   ------   better this  ,  he thinks  ,  better to take  care  with his words rather than  spew them  impulsively  ,  take the bait  &  goad a man waiting for his chance to pounce .  breathe in  ,  breathe out  ;  he’s a ghost  ,  this much is true .  but at least he is  something  ,  more than the man before him can claim .

pvris  /  not accepting  /  @swornaegis .

                ❛  is that so ?  ❜      he’s quick to question  ,  amusement lacing each syllable of his reply  ;  gladio has never  let  him win anything and there’s no reason he’d start now  ,  ignis knows  ,  well aware the man is just a bit  sore  after losing  three times in a row .  he’d consider going easy on him  ,  easier  at least   ——  but he knows gladio would hate that more than anything  /  more than losing fair and square .     ❛  in that case i should congratulate you on your  acting .  you certainly had me fooled .  ❜

pvris  /  not accepting  /  @aegisregalis .

                were it anyone  else  he’d have a lie already prepared  ,    an excuse falling easily from his lips  &  honesty painted like a mask upon his face as he omits key details .  were it anyone else he’d feel  capable  of attempting such but the current time is 03:27am and he’s standing barefoot in the middle of a hotel hallway  ,  morning dew clinging to his soles and gladio isn’t an idiot .  ignis isn’t enough of one  ,  either  ,  to pretend otherwise .

       and there is silence  ,  then  ——  burgeoning  ,  between them both  ,  thick as fog and just as impenetrable  ;  the sharpness of disagreement dances on the tip of gladio’s tongue  ,  desiring to remind ignis that it ain’t like the wounds aren’t fresh  ,  like the mutilation has barely had time to scab over  ,  but he doesn’t  .   if ignis cannot see the stare he levels in his direction then surely he must feel it  ,  the stab of his gaze through the walls building themselves several bricks tall between them both  .

he sucks in his teeth  ,  directs gaze downward and leans forward in the adjacent chair  .    the leather creaks beneath his weight  .     gladio slows his breath  ,  but does not stop the way the sigh exhales through flared nostrils  ,  needing some escape for the concern that has tendered itself in his stomach  .

❛   sorry  ,  i shouldn’t’a put it that way  .   it ain’t what i mean  ,  iggy  –  i’m not your keeper  ,   ❜    he says  ,  and means it  ,  entirely and wholly  ;  he ain’t ignis’s keeper  ,  never will be  ,  but he’d like to think he’s got some kind of say in the future safety of ignis scientia and so he levels what he will say next  ,  balances what he might couch gently in his tongue  ,  for iggy’s sake  ,  and what he wants to deliver  ,  the news he thinks ignis doesn’t want to think about  .

❛   …  regardless of if you’re tryin’ to readjust or not  ,  y’know you ain’t gonna be able to protect noct like this  ,  ignis  .     i  …  i’m not gonna let you put him or you in danger ‘cause you wanna adjust without supervision  ,  without help or bein’ hovered over  .     you know you can’t fight like this  .     not right now  .   ❜

he looks at ignis  ,  again  ,  and feels very sorry  .   ❛   if there’s anythin’ i’m gonna stop you from doing  …  it’s that  .   i object to you stayin’ at noct’s side like this  .   and you know you gotta object to it  ,  too  .    he’s gonna be watchin’ for you  ——  we all will be  ,  and when we’re watchin’ for you  …  we won’t be watchin’ for each other  .    ❜

and i  ,  gladio thought  ,  afraid  ,  uncertain  ,  ashamed  ,  i won’t be watching for noct  ,  either  .  

                ‘ you can’t do this ’  is something he’s unaccustomed to  ,    the feeling  suffocating  beneath gladio’s words  ,  the  emotion  in the gaze ignis cannot see and will never see again  ;  a man raised from birth to  do it all  ,  with grace and ease and  minimal complaint  ,  a jack of all trades forced to meet failure not with  ‘ cannot ’  but  ‘ learn to ’  and on some level he knows gladio is right  ,  that he’s biting off more than he chew this time  ,  risking the safety of  everyone  in doing so .  on another  ,  he hasn’t the slightest clue what he is if not the king’s shadow  ,  the man who  persists  despite it all and truthfully he’s afraid to find out what may exist beneath the skin he’s been so carefully fitted into over the years .  someone  pathetic  is likely to live beneath the mask of  royal advisor  and he isn’t at all keen to meet him .

                ❛  and what would you have me do ?  sit on my arse  ,  hoping for your return all the while having not the  slightest  clue what’s going on ?  ❜      voice is not raised but if there is a  bite  to it  ,  it’s intentional .  he should not have to  beg  to be respected  ,  to have gladio’s trust placed in him and his abilities .  he should not have to  beg  a man who knows him better than anyone else possibly could to see there’s still  worth  in him and it is  painful  that that’s  exactly  where they’ve fallen .  a pitiful show of a man on metaphorical knees  ,  beseeching a  wall  to have faith in him  ,  faith in noctis  ,  faith in the others  ;  just because  gladio  holds the world record for world’s most bloody heart doesn’t mean the rest of their group does or shall or has the capacity to .

                ❛  what i can and cannot do like this has yet to be seen and as unfortunate as it is to hear you’ve already given up on me  i haven’t .  and i will not allow you to make that decision for me .  ❜      we used to be equals  ,  he thinks  ,  bitterly  ,  sorrowfully .  how  easy  it is to turn that on its head  ,  send him crashing down from the ground he once stood upon beside gladio to a makeshift grave dug out by gladio’s own hands  ,  tombstone reading  safety  &  solace  in a language only he knows .  it’s infuriating  ,  painful  ;  it’s  unfair  and as childish as it may be to press on  ,  it is  his choice .  

just as fixating on corpses  &  dead ends is gladio’s .

@swornaegis .

          you needn’t worry about me  ,  ignis says  ,  and a thrust of razor sharp frustration drags itself along the exposed part of his heart  ;  of course he ought to worry  ,  this isn’t some scrape they can both put a bandage over and call that healing  ,  call that just fine  ,  and why should noctis be allowed to weep and mourn and be angry but not them  ,  not you  ?     not for the first time he wonders why they must live such a life  ,  to have the possibility of peace  ,  a life in ordained but purely decorative sacrifice dangled before them  ,  only to have it snatched from their hands  ?     he is no longer the teen he was  /  will follow noctis lucis caelum to the end of eos and beyond  ,  but that does not mean he still does not think it unfair  ,  still does not see them as effigies stuffed into graves from birth  ,  disavowed of the humanity that others are yet still allowed  .

             insomnia falls  ,  and life moves on  ——  but what about them  ?

             ❛   needn’t ain’t the same as won’t  ,   ❜    he notices  ,  of course  ,  the sudden aversion ignis has at his gaze  .     gladio stares all the same  ,  trying desperately to catch it  ;  won’t prod forcefully at the despair he knows must tug at his heart but has no qualms about trying to tug it from ignis silently all the same  .    they all rely on ignis scientia  ,  but who can he rely on in turn  ?      ❛   y’don’t have to talk to me about it  ,  if you don’t want to  —-  but i know damn well you’re hurtin’  ;  there’s nothin’ wrong with it  .    y’don’t have to bottle up your grief ‘cause the rest of us are hurtin’  .     it isn’t fair to you  ,  iggy  .    ❜  

              ❛   honor her the best way you can  ,  but don’t go actin’ like this was somethin’ you expected all along  .    you don’t have t’be a pillar for us to lean on  .    not for this  .   ❜  

                you don’t have to be a pillar  ,  he says  ,    and ignis almost wants to laugh    (  doesn’t  ,  but almost  ;  doesn’t  ,  knows it would be a bitter  ,  distant sound anyhow  )    at how it sounds like a  choice  he can make easily  :  be strong  ,  stone - faced  &  iron boned  ,  or don’t .  as if he ever learned how to be the opposite  ,  how to be soft or reliant or open  ;  as if he ever learned how to be  human  in the event of  anything  at all rather than this  robotic caretaker  he was so carefully espaliered into over the years .

                ❛  i don’t mean to dismiss your concern but i’m alright  ,  gladio .  ❜      a half lie  /  a half truth  ;  he’s as okay as he ever is  ,  something terribly  broken  ,  disjointed  ,  cracked  ,  existing within the expanse of his ribs  ,  the gaps between organs  ,  and he’s  alright  simply because he’s never allowed it to make him otherwise .  not externally  ,  not  internally  ,  a bottle building up ‘til it’s fit to blow or break for twenty years .      ❛  hurt  ,  of course  ,  but even if i wanted to grieve properly  ,  i  ...  ❜      don’t remember how  ,  never  learned  how .  it wasn’t beneficial to  noctis lucis caelum  or the lion’s den of meeting rooms and there’s a twist in his gut when he considers how he knows his mother would not be disappointed in the lack of tears .

she knew her son .  she would have expected as much .