#oraclespoken

More Prompts for Your Feels | accepting but slower than the slowest slow

@oraclespoken

He felt the remnants of a dream still clinging to him, making him shiver and his heart beat rapidly, unable to help the gasping for breath.  No.  No, no, just a nightmare.  He had so many of those, and still every single time, they--

“Yeah.”  Not that he sounded sure, but it was still... he was still pulling away from the dream’s grasp.  Carbuncle helped him with the worst of them, but sometimes they were just so quick and sudden.

A few more breaths and a swallow later, and he was at least done with the trembling.  Slowly getting his pulse back to normal.  “Thanks.  Really, I...”  Noctis blushed instantly as he looked down at Luna’s hand.  It was so silly of him, but ever since he’d been a child with nightmares, if Ignis was around, he’d offer his hand.  Noctis always held on until he went back to sleep, but...

“S-sorry if it’s dumb or embarrassing but--  I-I mean Ignis is usually--  Uh.”  Just making it worse was fine, sure.  Clearing his throat, he tried again.  “Is it okay if I hold your hand?  Just for a minute, I...  It’s fine if you’d rather not, I just--”

She was made to please the gods by being her sister’s keeper, the protectress whom stood by her side. Stella, the star, compliment to Luna, the moon. That which framed her sister’s radiant glow reflected from the god’s light in a crown of stars to exemplify and protect the chosen Oracle. In the tradition of Niflheim, of their father’s house, her martial raiment is a distant echo of their elder brother’s. Sharp lines line the cream-hued pantsuit and long, pencil skirt and flats she wears, a modest attendance of sharp and angular lines softened by accents suitable for a kinswoman of the Oracle. The gold sabre sheathed at her side bounces with each glad stride, loose waves of gold cascading her back. 

@oraclespoken​​  :     Delicate hands upon fragile petals, handling them as if they would disappear into the winds. Her song stops as steps neared. Lunafreya rises and looks to a nervous Maria accompanying the scarlet stained woman. "Oh, Commodore Highwind," she greets with a nod. Aranea as she knows her, has made a name for herself within the Niflheim army. She's heard Ravus speak of her many times before. "Is something the matter?" Lunafreya asks despite sensing a hint of the plague of stars lingering around her.

        𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙶𝙾 𝙱𝙰𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙴 in fleet of airships as they come in to dock —— twenty-minute grace period to retrieve their things & clear out.  they have sped to the manor in the nick of time.  𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚, pelting her calming prairies & valleys into a precarious landscape.  fleuret aides awaiting in the distance by the vast manor’s entrance that has poured out from their stations 𝒕𝒐 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 for such an “unannounced” visit.  unease begins to swirl in the air toward the sudden occupation of men donning imperial military vestments gradually MARCHING IN CADENCE & eventually spanning the length of improvised landing strip. three rows of mercenaries stand, unmoving.  at her rear, biggs & wedge.  mid-stride instructs them to wait by the ships.  & then saunters across grassy fields segmented by asphalt walkway en-route to mortared stone staircase, 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒍𝒆 & 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 against fields of cerulean flower stalks carrying with it a sweet perfume in 𝑼𝑵𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑮𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑺. & smells also faintly of ferment & rain that is about to fall.  there is a sense of richness about fenestala manor that reminds her of imperial city  ——  of the upper-tier stuff, gold leaf accents, conical spire rooves, towers aplenty.  it is...ritzy.

once at the gate, aranea exchanges a few words with the steadfast man of a guard on duty.  from the perception of the fleuret attendants, what was said must 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉, because he powers the gate’s doors open with a herculean force.  

in the foyer of the manor, aranea watches activity increase as though she’s kicked a beehive.  many pairs of eyes of staff alike settle on her in passing —— some with scrutiny, others with curiosity.  fortunately, aranea finds that she does not need to stand 𝐢𝐝𝐥𝐲 & 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 & idiotically next to a large flowerpot while being watched because no sooner is she approached by a woman ; the skin on her neck cracked with age & 𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒔.  her grey hair is combed ( rather, heat styled ) to an immaculately neat bun & there is something so delicate yet regal about her.  perceptive blue pools of sight 𝙵𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙴𝚃 while she greets aranea as graciously as a woman of her age can muster ; a grace that is bone deep & practically ingrained into her DNA. aranea, 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔, coughs up a nicety in the form of a polite dip of the head in kind to the woman who introduces herself as ‘maria’, already deducing THE DRAGOON’S IDENTITY with contextual clues & her political savvy. her body language is one which suggests a ‘walk & talk’ session.  

following maria, whose silken brocade fabrics of skirts’ hemline lick the back of her ankles in stride, she carefully explains the reason for her visit through the 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑩𝑳𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑺 of the manor : during a daemon-hunting assignment near the vesperpool, one of her men & youngest of her rag-tag unit, drummond was caught unawares & pinned to a nidus which was ultimately destroyed, but a remnant of it remains lodged into his shoulder, infecting him with its dark elements known as STARSCOURGE & has been spreading since.  like any communicable illness, he is isolated on one of the airships.  𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 since & he requires assistance “like yesterday”.  assistance that only one known individual on this gods-forsaken rock can provide. 

the governess doesn’t say much for the duration ; however it can readily be perceived by the downturned line of her lips that she is 𝙳𝙸𝙶𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 it all.  it is an austere understanding that the situation is dire.  what aranea 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 is that a promise has been made to drummond that he will receive the proper care & be ready to go back into the field in no time. & if not...?  swallows hard at merely the thought she is actively in denial of.

aranea stops behind a large, carpeted doormat  —— floral art nouveau designs embroidered.  it matches the banister & matches the poise of the woman who is engrossed in flower arrangement on the other side of the already pried-open 𝑫𝑶𝑼𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑫𝑶𝑶𝑹𝑺.  she settles a hand to her hip & stares at the door’s threshold, to maria pouring past it & then to the oracle who in duality to her dark clothing wears clean ivory linen. 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 & 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎.  ancient, but drawing in desperately an aura of security & comfort. the fragrance that’s greeted her is delightful, like a MELODIOUS tune.  ( unnervingly calm —— even by her standards. ) she stays like that & can imagine lunafreya doing the same in their equivalent introductions.

❝ princess, ❞ comes her voice, a tonal rasp adding to her dark mystique.  coupled with a nod of her own,  ❝ didn’t mean to shake things up around here by my impromptu visit, but it’s pretty urgent...❞

ask | soft | @oraclespoken

"I feel like I should be asking you that, my lady." Unable to hide her concern for the older woman, Tifa bit her lip before speaking again. "Are you... sure you won't let me accompany you? Even just to the border, I know I can't really help, but..." The Oracle would refuse, she was almost positive of that, but to have left her walk off towards some unknown future... all by herself? A cold dread that she couldn't quite place gripped her heart at the thought.

So much was riding on her and, even though Tifa understood precious little of covenants and destiny, if she could bear even a fraction of the burden, she would gladly do so.

"I want to make the world a better place.”  He admitted, quiet and shy.  That hadn’t really been like him, not with Luna.  But it was kind of an embarrassingly childish thought to have, even knowing that he was a child.  Already he understood that things weren’t that simple, and there was so much bigger than he understood...

“So there’s no more war and no one has to worry about having to send people to fight.”  He’d been listening.  He couldn’t have helped but listen, but rare were the times when his father admitted things to him directly.  Noctis had just started to learn how to read into things, how to listen for clues all around him.

@oraclespoken : She sits on the worn sofa with her legs folded properly beneath her. Lunafreya looks to the sleeves of the borrowed sweatshirt that is much too large for her---even for Aranea. But the other woman called it 'comfort clothes'. "Is it truly alright for me to use this?" She asks as he picks up the DVD of a movie the commodore had picked out for the eve. Horrified faces stare back at her as they run from a slime blob of sorts. 

          𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.  the princess of tenebrae, oracle & the pinnacle of grace & elegance that is bone deep & otherworldly now perches her regal spine onto aranea’s shabby couch, in a black, oversized shirt with some 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 that’s picked up traction over the last decade ( on the back, a rather extensive list of lucian concert venues listed ) & a pair of draw-string sweatpants as per the behest of the commodore: for it was deemed the illustrious, crystalline garb to be inappropriate for a stowaway & for being at rest.

swift steps sweep across coffee table, past tenebrae’s eos-bound goddess (in all but name) to take the pristine disk into her hand ; index finger lancing its circular junction so as not to smudge its prismatic surface.  she takes extra care of her collection as movies & any form of media that is not directly approved by the empire are considered to be contraband.  all radio & tv stations must propagandize that 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒍𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒎 shall eventually pay off —— characterize the proletariat as a humbling, honorable class of people.  & the kingdom of lucis? lucis is the root cause of all ills, hindering niflheim from being the flourishing, shining metropolis it once was in its heyday.  destroying the enemy is the so-called panacea.  ( disseminate a lie long enough with a media apparatus to back it up & it becomes fact; repetition is the mother of all learning ! ) & aranea?  found ways to forgo the steady diet of indoctrination for something far more paletable.  her illegal stashes are treated with near sanctified levels of respect.

❝ hey, don’t sweat it, ❞ she says, injecting the dvd into a tiny slat of its accompanying player.  watches it devour 𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓 into a sea of black polyurethane.  the blob. campy in its production, but a cult classic nevertheless!    ❝ i’ve got loads of those tees.  comfy, isn’t it? ❞

moments later taking a seat next to her, also quite comfortable in an 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃𝐋𝐘 loose-fitting onyx-colored top with graphics & a pair of cotton shorts.  remote in hand & admiring her work —— getting the princess to let her hair down.

@oraclespoken​           ::        𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐏𝐫𝐲𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐏𝐫𝐲𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐚 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐨𝐲. 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬. "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐲𝐧𝐚. "𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞." 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 

A familiar presence, though some years later, not any less welcomed. A bundle of fluff   hurtling   in his direction, causing bright smile.     “ Hey girl !  “     He kneels slight to give well deserved attention.     “  Who’s a good girl ?!  ”     He continues in a put on voice, catered to the dog. But it is now when hues with a twinkle of indigo do give the woman attention.   Lady Lunafreya.   He rises and takes a step forward, as Pryna continues to play between them both.     “   Yeah, that’s me !  ”     He chimes brightly. 

● – || @oraclespoken​ sent: ‘ i’ll be okay, i can do it all on my own ”

random sentence starters || accepting

● – || It wasn’t every day that Luna and Noctis got to spend some time together, but whenever they did it was always something special to be had. At least, to Noctis it was. He adored spending time with her, she was his friend after all, and he wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything in the world. 

As the pair sat on a blanket in the gardens of the Citadel Noctis sat with his legs loosely crossed and his hands in his lap. Between the two of them was a picnic basket filled with things that the pair seemed to like and share in common with plates and cups in front of them for clean eating. All of this thanks to Iggy and a few others around the kitchens.