flames&brains.

@argentumly

      YET ANOTHER horrifying scene claims the darkness of his vision; a mere flicker of such a twisted prophecy that pulses against his skull. Disorienting, dizzying...   

      SUDDENLY DOES he sway, a blind grip seeking anchorage from the wooden bedpost -- a wholly unnecessary precaution, he soon realizes, for the young gunslinger has already scurried to his side with a guiding palm upon the small of his back, as he is so prone to offer as of late.   

it seldom fails to FASCINATE the woman– the way practised hands have long learned to locate the sweep of her jaw without error. how dangerously FAMILIAR she’s become to a blind man’s TOUCH, and his every blemish and blessing to hers. and stranger still, she allows for it - ENCOURAGES it - from no other but he.

“overwhelming, ‘ey? that’s a nice way to put it.” shifting an inch more, the sound of leather against leather is her only offered warning as the hand - that once lay atop a squared shoulder - slides downward to resettle upon his CHEST. can he still picture her face, after all these years? taste the FULLNESS of her lips with every stolen kiss in the dark– visualise the narrow slope of her nose, and feel the fading freckles that litter her complexion ‘neath the brush of his fingertips?

in one abrupt motion, aranea grasps at the front of his shirt. she urges him LOWER with a purposeful tug, ‘til noses bump and lips are a breath from collision. “alright, lover boy. we’re done here.” a TEMPTING whisper and nothing more.

“let’s report back.”

      HE IS NOT A MAN of folly. Rather, he conducts his life through facts and figures, obliges by the carefully calculated strategies that come to mind quite innately. Thus, he finds it astoundingly frustrating when he discovers that, despite his greatest efforts, there exists no plan nor method to quell the quickening of his breath, the warming of his skin at the mercy of her touch -- for, ah, he is only human. And so, in the darkness, he surrenders. Where she goes, he will follow. Perhaps such a profound promise is yet to be spoken aloud, but he knows that she can hear its sweet echo in the breath between their lips. Patiently he waits, sobered by the alluring purr of her voice until -- 

         ❝ Ahem. ❞ A delicate clearing of the throat as clarity returns to him, as blaring and harsh as the everlasting night. He straightens abruptly, and a palm skids along the front of his shirt, to smooth out the creases born from a fleeting moment of passion.                           

can’t find any. not a single one

                                         “ Not exactly what I meant, ” he admits, the muscles in his shoulders stiffening with an oncoming  s h r u g. “ But that’s cool, I guess. ”

HE FEIGNS NONCHALANCE, disinterest, even as his mind  s w a r m s  with curiosities. It’s funny, in a shameful sort of way, how most of Noct’s life can be marked by Ignis’  p r e s e n c e, and yet he knows so little about the man beyond his role as  a d v i s o r. Has he really been too selfish to bother asking? The prince avoids his eyes, focuses on the wall behind Ignis in  s i l e n c e.          

      SILENCE. ‘Tis a response that speaks as loudly as words, particularly when coupled with an averted gaze. Ignis has come to understand this unspoken language quite fluently, after many years of practice and astute observation, of course. Guilt feasts visibly upon the prince’s mind, and so the advisor, unwilling to let such negativity linger, swiftly adjusts their conversation.          

@aeriium

       HE HAD ASSUMED that she’d already taken her leave with the others, to salvage what measly hours of darkness they have left for an attempt at a good night’s sleep. Or, perhaps, that she had simply grown disinterested by his quiet company. Regardless, neither is the case. She lingers, a shadow sitting far to his left, faintly illuminated by the dwindling flames of a forgotten campfire. Ignis turns at the sound of her voice, slowly -- for his bones still ache from a day’s worth of toil. 

         ❝ He’d be a bit worse for wear, perhaps, but still very much alive. ❞ He’s aware of his strengths, and his value to the team, but there’s a ferocious respect for his comrades that cannot be swayed. ❝ I’m not the only one seeing to it that Noct arrive to Altissia in one piece. ❞

just be me OBVIOUSLY