#tactition

" thank you. " although ignis scientia surely had better things to do than dote on the oracle, he does it anyway. she accepts the teacup in welcome palms, plucked from the saucer he'd set it down on. in the time she takes to savor the warmth in her fingertips, she admires the china.

of course, everything at the citadel was nice. lucis's economy far surpassed tenebrae's in strength. every room laid freshly waxed, so sleek even the intricate marbling of the stone was visible. everything shared a sort of uniformity. black and gold, black and silver. except for a lining, most lucian design favored simplicity as a form of elegance. the teacup in her hand however, did not. lacquered nails drag along embellishments, twisting vines and stems in decoration that blossomed under her touch. an antique, surely from the reign of a king past.

to know lunafreya nox fleuret had a hobby of flower arranging was no deep dive. tabloids loved to write on it. large spreads of her rumored bouquets, designs for the manor's gardens. perhaps the only topic inoffensive to both tenebrae and niflheim was her personal life, and even then it felt a short leash. to know her was just as impersonal as the unknown of her, for she is a symbol of hope, forever sparkling + pristine. still, he took the effort to know her. this much brings a warm smile to her face.

     however, his  leniency  ends  there. before  noctis  can  draw  breath,   he  finds  his  momentum  being  used  against  him,  rotating  on  the  ball  of  his  feet  to  answer  for  the  sudden  motion  but  still  finding  the  other  triumphant  in  kicking his feet out from under him. his back hits the mat with an air of finality, echoing out his defeat to the empty ceilings of the training room and for the spectacle of the pair occupying it.

     the hollow silence lingers, subtle breaths shifting between the two it’s only reprieve. from here noctis can see only ignis, light eclipsed in halo behind his head. there’s always been a gentle sort of beauty to him, constant, unshifting, familiar — what hovers above him now borders itself on divinity. headlong gaze trails past the radiant green of his eyes, taking in the curved musculature of his stature — honed as closely as his own all these years.

     the spectacle is over before noctis can entertain any more thought of having grand dedications built in his name, and @tactition is quick to offer a ready hand to an already winded prince. he follows suit, sheepish in his own aftermath & averting his gaze to spare himself any dignity that remains. what resides is a simple, quiet utterance :

                              " y - yeah— um… nice pin, specs. "

             “Here, join us - these proceedings oversee a long && happy life, now the Goddess of the Seas will regard you in her slumber”