illuminet: (𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑨 𝑴𝑰𝑡𝑢𝑹.)
LUNA(FREYA) NOX FLEURET. ([personal profile] illuminet) wrote in [community profile] fares2017-02-07 09:31 pm

less god, less divine.

[ The thing isβ€” she'd wanted so badly to save him. Want. Like yearning, like desire could be so kind and pristine and hopeful in the wake of dereliction β€” already, it's begun. The longer nights, inky and starless, the instability of their world where it's cracked open at the seams, torn open with the violence of daemons and human restlessness. Already, the longing seizing up around her neck β€” the omen is seething in the air long before she sets foot in the city, and long after she's abandoned her party of three for air that didn't choke in close proximity.

She's had dreams like these all the way to Altissia, Pryna and Umbra encircling her ankles, Noctis's voice unsettled and strange, always dissipating from her mind. Her failures have been several, her defeats plenty. Notwithstanding the miracles, she's survived. Her life of palace courtesies hasn't entirely prepared her for the brunt of her fights, but it's carried her here β€” to the watery canals and gentrified streets, each block lit up in lanterns.

If she hadn't been loitering on the far reaches of the city, she would've missed it entirely: the scrap of white fabric, the indistinct figure diminishing fast into the gloom.

And just like that, she's off in pursuit, chasing it on nothing more than a whirling mind and some rearing fullness that's taken ahold of her heart with the intent to rupture veins. Luna doesn't recognize it for what it is, the awful profundity of it, not for the pillars of stone or the sudden weight to her steps. Fear surges up, but it's only ash in the windpipe, something heavy and implacable when the figure finally has mercy on her, slowing down.

There's no fairness to it; not the look on his face or the tremble lacing through her fingers, from ligament to joint. ]


[ Some winded, blurry shock embeds in her throat, as limpid as love until she's wrenching into full lucidity, every sound leaving her strained and abrupt. ]

Noctis, please, I beg of you. Don't leave.
noctsout: (pic#11025977)

[personal profile] noctsout 2017-02-08 01:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ And he, in turn, wished for nothing but her victory. (Her happiness and safety, an eternity for the smile that she'd worn when they'd been children, warm and bright. Befitting, he'd told Prompto, of the Queen of Light. The one for whom he will make the Gods bow their heads, if that was the last thing he'd do.)

Altissia was a warm city, warm and humid in a way that differed from the forest-rich lands of Tenebrae. For as much as life and light was in love with flora, so, too, was it besotted with water. The origin of all, the very first kingdom of those that had come before-- if the legends were to be believed, anyway. Noctis could admit to it now, that evading his studies may not have been the smartest of his choices. But knowledge of past events were mere trimmings, at best; he'd known his duty since he'd been hailed as the Oracle in his youth, had known what had to be done. Lessons in history had felt pale and shallow, compared to that.

It'd been on a whim that he'd slipped past his guards, donning whatever he'd had that might hide his status, even for the slightest moment. Not an easy task, not when his shade of hair was unusual to the people of Altissia, but he'd managed. For all of three blocks before the first of the crowds had shifted uncomfortably with uncertain recognition. Before he'd turned directions to walk away from their eyes.

And then someone had called to him. Had called to him by name with a voice that he would have given his arms and legs to hear, just one last time before the trials of the Tidemother had to be met.

So, why, then, was he running? Why had he stopped, his will splintering under her words?

It's with care that he uncurls his fingers from the circle of his fists, a conscious effort to relax so that he could meet her with a smile when he finally, finally turns.

And-- Gods. It's the sight of her that drives it home: of how they're no longer children. Of how much they'd grown. The swinging guillotine of fate that loomed above them both. And how, if only he'd the strength and the grace, he desperately wished to spare her of it. ]

Luna. [ His Queen, Her Majesty. He feels like he should bow, but opts to smile, instead. Has a feeling that it might be better appreciated than a show of deference. ]

You're-- uh, you're early. I had a speech and everything, for tomorrow.

[ Spare him of this embarrassment, Six above. Maybe he should've just kept running. ]
noctsout: (pic#10980994)

[personal profile] noctsout 2017-02-10 11:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ He can't see her tremors at this distance, in this farce of proximity. But he hears her, hears every feeling that she pours into every word, the tribulations that she must've faced to get to where she is now, the damages that she might still very well wear. And the favour of the Gods that rest within him as a healing light aches for her, wants to reach her and soothe it away.

Shame is a no small thing when Noctis takes a step forward, breaching all that he knows and believes to be right. The distance that he should have maintained to allow her onto a path on which she would not falter. But the Oracle, too, is human with all the fallacies that come with being so-- had the weight of his station rested on someone else, on the shoulders of someone with more breeding or poise, perhaps it'd have been different.

Maybe that Oracle wouldn't have yearned to be by her side as he does now. Or at least, without the same level of potency and corrosion. Maybe they would have been content to perish into the Gods' realm after their purpose had been fulfilled. (Just three left, now. Or just the one, as the greatest of the Astrals rested within a plane of existence that not even he could reach. And the other, well. The other is the reason as to why they must suffer through this in the first place.)

Blink and he's within distance, within reaching distance, even when he seems torn at the idea of putting his hands on her shoulders to keep her standing tall and regal. Torn at the idea of leaning in close with his head to press his forehead against hers to lighten her burdens.

He does neither. The unwitting hand that he'd reached out towards her curl back as a fist. ]

Hey. Hey, it's okay. There's nothing to thank me for. What I did, that's-- [ What he'd been born and bred to do. The heavy anvil of destiny for which he had no taste despite his obedience.

But, no. Said like that, he'd be lying. And he won't, not to her. ]

It's nothing. Really. I wanted to help you.

[ That much, at least, is true. But, okay, move on. Move on before he slayed himself where he stood with the force of his embarrassment. A short glance around-- ] Seriously, did you-- sneak out?

[ Said the pot to the kettle. Still, slipping away from Prompto probably wasn't nearly as difficult as dodging the intensity of her crew. ]