[ In the wake of reuniting with Noctis, there haven't been any apparent downsides to readily assenting to join the crown prince of Lucis and his company of retainers. They're all more than amiable enough to her on the outset, offering her the dead-center seat in the Regalia, sightseeing places they've toured several times already, if just to afford her the glimpse into their homely trip and the great distance they'd traversed to meet her. Benevolence in its totality, so overwhelming that Luna finds herself stricken with a loss for words from time to time.
Sparing no convenience, Noctis converses with her often enough — the very first day she'd settled on the road with them, he'd made a concerted effort not to nap, taking the wheel (apparently a rare occurrence, according to Ignis) and going on a mostly humble tangent about their various hunting travails (one of which included, bizarrely, a humungous turtle posing as a mountain). He's treated her with kindness, wide enough to span the twelve years they spent absent from each other. He's much the same as she remembered in many respects — fumbling but earnest, taking great pains to keep up an amicable air around her in the light of the rowdiness of butting heads with Gladio, challenging Prompto at another round of King's Knight, snapping up groceries at Ignis's behest.
And their fondness for each other is apparent enough with respect to their fights, shielding each other, lobbing curatives to each other, timing preemptive strikes with little more than a call-out and a decisive blow, Noctis warping with the magic of someone utterly free and unconstrained, something to behold. Luna's spoken at length to Ignis and Gladio, who have regaled her with their own colorful anecdotes detailing the minutiae of their lives as Noctis's respective adviser and bodyguard, and it's not all that difficult to ascertain why King Regis so emphatically approved of the two escorting the trip. They treat Noctis as they would their own flesh and blood — afford him the breadth of their lives that comes intrinsic with their Highness's birthright without batting an eye.
It's only Prompto who's remained conspicuously absent from these talks, although he's affable enough upon wishing her well her every morning and evening. A polite distance, but not detached: respectable, even when tossing down his hand of losing cards after a game of Texas hold'em gone terribly awry. She doesn't push the tentative distance he maintains even on occasions like these, when the other members of the party have gone out on an impromptu supply run. Having a friendly discourse with the locals and tourists alike that tend to flock around the hotel has since become a harmless pastime of her own. Beyond being the Oracle, it's pleasant enough to acquaint herself with people from all walks of life, uncurbed by ever-present threats to their lives or her own.
Upon a rather innocuous text from Prompto, however, she's amicable to bid her farewell and head up the staircase and through the hallways, stowing off toward the room they've reserved. Luna knocks once, a quick rap of her knuckles on the door, and then patently makes her entrance, complacent in her greeting. ]
[ the key to this, the number one cardinal rule he thinks, is not to be weird. he repeats it like a mantra in his head, don’t do anything strange, absolutely under no circumstances do not kneel backwards on your seat in the regalia, face lady lunafreya, and tell her that when you were trying to bathe tiny— pryna in the impromptu tub you had set up for the puppy that she had splashed and gotten water all over you. and it is still one of your best memories.
he remembers trailing after the puppy and trying to wrap her in a towel, but his reflexes were slow then, and pryna was fast— and the situation had ended with him on the ground. his chest heaving, and finally pryna taking pity on him, and budging his shoulder with her wet nose. he remembers the sense of loss he felt, on finding her gone one day. on coming home to absolute silence, except for his footsteps on the thin carpeting.
but then, there was the letter. the one that had changed everything, with a simple thank you and the assumption that he was friends with the prince. the fact that the girl who wrote it, lunafreya, thought that he could be friends with the prince. well. it had given him a push that he had been missing, a motivation to change. and it really had given him his place here, with the guys, and now with her. if it wasn’t for her, the letter, he would—
he would probably still be alone.
but he doesn’t say any of that. instead when he does turn around in his seat, he smiles at her before ducking his head and turning to gladio and cheerfully asking what terrible one gil novel he’s picked up now from their latest pit stop. he doesn’t say it when noct is driving rattling on about the places they’ve been, not when they’re out of the regalia and walking around, ignis regaling them with the history of the region they’re in. the natural flora and fauna. he trails behind and occasionally pipes up with a comment that sounds stupid in retrospect, like how the view is killer from the top of the mountain they’re near, and that they should climb it together one day. this time with luna.
other than that he keeps a distance, is cordial, says good morning, nice day isn’t it? but any more than that and his throat turns dry, and the words ‘did you know you changed my life’ get stuck in it. and he doesn’t think it would be that weird to tell her so, as oracle she’s probably changed hundreds of lives, given more people hope with her voice he remembers hearing over the radio. by healing them, her hands glowing a warm gold with a magic different than noct’s, and it was fascinating enough the one time he saw it that he had to grab a picture.
which might have broken the first rule of don’t be weird. and things, this, it’s going to have to change because the other’s have probably started to notice the careful way he is around her— and he doesn’t want that. he wants to treat her normally, to be friends. friends with the oracle of eos. so he texts her. waits in their hotel room, for her to finish her conversations outside, he had noticed how the locals had flocked to her, watched from the motel window ( weird ) before flopping on the bed closest to the door. he had been laying down, feet dangling off of the mattress before lunafreya knocked, and at the sound he straightened up to sitting in an instant. manages to brush his fingertips through his bangs to fix them before she enters. ] Yeah, kinda silly for me to text you about it, huh? I should have just come down and— but I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked busy. The people here, they really look up to you, I can tell.
[ because he does as well.
he wants to start, with the letter, but the words-stuck-in-throat thing is happening again, and what if she doesn’t even remember writing him anything.
he clears his throat, before he shifts over, making room for her to sit next to him. ]
[ The first time she meets Prompto, it clicks. It's no grandiose revelation befitting an interrogation or extensively pondered at her own leisure. Luna isn't the kind of person that would probe such a sensitive matter at any length out of pure curiosity, and singling him out is bound to have deleterious effects on how far he can trust her, insofar that she can be trusted at all — a woman they've only previously heard through other biased mediums, through whatever snippets Noctis has chosen to speak of her — always with high veneration tending toward the vagueness of one of modest upbringing depending on the questions.
(He was like that before, too: soft-spoken, a little shy for his rank, but always eager to learn. Not all of him has remained unchanged, but that part of him has permanence. It might never leave him now, his honesty and how it oozes out of him, a gaping wound, a weak point as much as his triumph against the burden of the throne.)
So she's kept in her mind, that day Noctis chose to slip a picture into the margins (I made a friend today) and how sweetly enthused the two of them appeared in the photo, like the lens had taken a snippet of their souls in the process, ingrained it into the bright-fleshed colors of printed film. But she recognizes the boy beside him even a couple of years changed: the freckles scattered on the bridge of the nose are the same, as is the certain lilt of his head (blond hair, eyes bluer than anything), overzealous, animated, in fervent motion. She wouldn't forget, not for his name or how exceedingly well he'd treated Pryna, who always seemed to harbor a profound fondness for bowls of milk after her return.
And it's no trespass now for her — if anything, she's made a little shy for it, although she's spared no small inconvenience to offer her thanks. This is more than out of obligation, however, easing herself into the room, encountering him without the diversion of a third party. The promise of a promise, a secret shared in confidence, something tender and heart-wrenching. Her smile is too soft for it. ]
No, you weren't a bother in the slightest. If I may be so bold in admitting as much, I'm very happy for the chance to converse with you. I mean you no discomfort.
[ Head bowed, she keeps her hands wound together, first intertwined in front of her, then folded into her lap as she takes the proffered seat beside him. It's all too telling that he's lapsed into some state of bashfulness, a clear sign that he sees himself as a nuisance to her. That's not something she can heal with any preciseness for lack of some substantial to mend, but Luna continues on undeterred all the same. Luna gazes sidelong at him, head held at a slight tilt. ]
Gladly, thank you. I hope this day has found you well. Were you able to rest? I imagine you must be feeling restless on escort duty.
[ As if Noctis hasn't made his position self-evident now, one person in his retinue, if not himself outright, to safeguard her. It's a very reasonable decision, all things considered. Luna withholds her laugh, but it sits in the slight quirk of her lips all the same. ]
[ the words, i’m very happy for the chance to converse with you, they put him a bit more at ease, as at ease as he can be around lunafreya. he inwardly bemoans his own inability to calm his own heart rate, his inability to keep his cool around— well. girls, mostly. his heart always stutters around cindy, a frantic rhythm of ‘look at me, don’t look at me’, but this is different. lunafreya is different, in a way that he’s going to have to ruminate on later when she’s not in close proximity, smiling softly at him in a way that he doesn’t think he deserves. hasn’t done anything to deserve. then she’s next to him, sitting, hands folded, and he’s tempted to mimic the gesture solely so he doesn’t fidget, or start drumming his fingers on his thighs. he suddenly wishes that he had his camera, pictures to flip through, something familiar in this uncharted territory. but. then he wouldn’t be giving her his full attention, which she deserves, after he called her away from— her calling. the people outside. ] Yeah. Resting, not a problem. Not often we get to stay in an actual hotel, not when we got a camping fanatic in our midst. [ gladio ] I mean, I’m all for the great outdoors, don’t get me wrong. Buuut, there is a reason people say you can have ‘too much of a good thing’.
[ the hotel they’re staying in, it’s no galdin qauy. nothing fancy. the beds are kind of lumpy, but there are four walls. it’s warm. and he’ll take a bed, lumpy or no, over a tent any day. or a sleeping bag that doesn’t accommodate his measure of rolling around while sleeping, traps his limbs in a way he doesn’t appreciate.
he puts his hands behind him, palms down to the comforter, and swings his legs in a position that he hopes reads more comfortable than he feels. alternates between looking out in front of them, and flashing his gaze to her out of the corner of his eye. ] Besides it’s not— [ not any trouble. escort duty, as she puts it. noct leaves one of them with lunafreya, always, to ensure her safety. he can tell, how important she is to him, not just because of his insistance that someone be with her at all times— but just by how he looks at her. how he had looked at their shared notebook, that umbra had brought him when they still were passing it back and forth. secretive and pleased, and unwilling to share what exactly they were writing despite his nagging. which… made sense. noctis is a prince. and because of that, his life has been open. to everyone in insomnia, to lucis, maybe he just wanted to keep something for himself.
he doesn’t want to say it’s a… honor looking after her, the words sounding stiff and uncomfortable even in his own head. far removed from the friendship he wants, that he had gotten with noct by treating him like himself instead of royalty. and he wants to do the same with luna, treat her like he would anyone else, not as oracle. as a princess. but it’s easier thought than done. ] I’ve been on a ton of supply runs. Nothing new, there. This is kind of… nice.
[ he’s never… been chosen, to guard lunafreya before. it’s always been ignis or gladio, and the fact that noct has left this to him, it makes his chest swell in a way that’s pleasant.
it means that noct trusts him.
a moment. ]
I— what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you remember a while ago, actually a long while ago, when I found Pryna? [ his legs stop their swinging, he can feel his palms start to warm, and fights the urge to rub them on the comforter’s surface. ] Do you… remember writing me?
[ His anxiety is a disconcerted, flittering thing, bearing its threat down on them. Skittering, but only just so, through his breath. That's as much a presumption as Luna can make, from what little she knows of the vagaries of the heart, when her own is something that thrums outside of her, that she's left with her people. All these years, reading into humanity as she's read her life, have only been a trifle to the doomed, cavorting prophecy lying at the end of this trip. Her brother and Mother and Father are waiting for what she must fulfill, and she's taken the gamble now to stow away with Noctis, on an excursion that might well be her last. Perhaps they would all look unkindly upon her for such an unpardonable sin.
So close to the end, and she sought out what memories she could still take along with her, for lack of a physical memento. That she's already dying, that her body is failing her, unable to mend. It's so silly, how she calls into question her own loyalties here, for the world or for her own sake, for whatever minutes remain to her. Fear reciting its old, strained lullaby. Of course she'd want to find her own answers in Noctis's precious friends, this close to the end.
And the moment clarifies itself, setting a precent for emotionally-strained talks, but no more digressions. Luna's gaze flicks up to regard him, gentle and pacified by this galvanized showing. Prompto really is something — like some bright-limned sun in the room, his voice rising and dipping in octaves. ]
A change of pace is very refreshing. Rarely have I had the chance to spend time like this in the past. I'm more than gladdened to have that opportunity now.
[ Whether or not the corner of her mouth spread, stare gliding down when his legs shudder, displaced from their wheeling motions. The clock ticks along, its pulse singing off-key. He appears dazzled, but there's nothing too remarkable about her, the tool compelled to its duty. It's the ease with which he presses his palms down, sundering air, fidgeting, that arrests her in turn. ]
Yes. As I recall, you took care of her until she could find her way home. I'd feared for her safety, but Pryna came back to me in extremely good spirits. I'm grateful that you tended to her so gently. She liked you very much.
[ And she's looking him full in the face now, bangs swept out of her face, her smile opened to amusement, then close-lipped (enigmatic). The familiar middle ground between wanting to say something, only to show painful restraint — she's been well-acquainted with that kind of masochism for over a decade now. So she implores him. ]
... I wouldn't forget thanking you for your kindness, Prompto. If there's anything weighing down upon your heart, please, tell me. I only hope I can set your worries at rest.
[ she remembers. he almost wants to sigh in relief, doesn’t know what he would have done if she didn’t. he’s a mix of surprised still, grateful, that she would remember doing something like thanking him, when she’s— lunafreya. the youngest oracle in history. and he’s, well. he laughs, jokes, calling himself a mere plebe in the groups presence. but sometimes it weighs on him, that the others have places and positions, and he’s just the jokester tag along. it’s a line of thinking that’s hard to dispel, creeps up on him when he least expects it, but it’s become less and less of an issue. become easier. he feels a little better, a little bit more necessary every time he aids someone in battle, picks them up from the ground, gets one of them out of a tight spot by sliding in guns blazing.
she remembers and he’s passed hurdle number one of this conversation, the hardest one, actually getting it started. and he doesn’t sigh in relief, but he smiles back at her. it’s kind of impossible not to, when her attention is on him, smiling like they’re sharing a secret. ] That was the worry. The main one. That you didn’t remember. I wanted to ask you, if you did, for awhile. But the timing never seemed right.
[ not after fights, certainly not in the car where the others have been present. this isn’t something he wants them to overhear. he doesn’t really… talk about his childhood, with them. with anyone, really. though he remembers in crystal clear, moments of loneliness, moments of too-quiet punctuated by his parents coming and going. leaving money on the table. more embarrassing things like getting caught trying to take a picture of the cat next door, trying to be covert and getting caught.
but then there was pryna, small and hurt on the sidewalk in front of his house, and he’s glad it happened. not that she was hurt, but that he got to take care of her. those couple of days, they were fun. it was nice, having a companion he didn’t have to stalk over a fence. ] I’m glad, I liked her too.
[ but that’s not what he wants to talk about, he could probably gush about pryna, about animals all day. and wouldn’t that be something, looking at dog pics with lady lunafreya? ]
Your letter— [ where to start, with this. he cants his head, slightly. thinking. ] I kept it, made sure it was safe. Because… when you said you hoped I could keep being friends with Noct, it was the first time I felt someone was counting on me. Entrusting me with something [ and he picks up his hands from their resting place, gestures in the space in front of him, trying to get across the enormity of it. ] important. I didn’t know you, but I really didn’t want to let you down.
To be honest, I wasn’t friends with Noct, at the time. I actually… didn’t have any friends.
[ this is… embarrassing. more embarrassing then he thought it would be, he didn’t expect to get this real. he should have just said thanks for the letter, and left it at that. he can feel his face start to burn, heat. ]
[ Dog jokes and scrapbooking and comparing the terrible intricacies of old grief: there are worse ways to idle away an afternoon, especially one spent in another's company. She's spent many much worse, but it's growing all the more apparent that he's lofted her up on a pedestal: somewhere high and inaccessible, unable to be reached through wholly conventional means.
And perhaps that's where the dissonance lies: that Prompto sees her as some divinity or saint or martyr to her cause when she's little more than a woman coddling that mortal fissure-break in her heart, like a knife that she has yet to succumb to, living on just a little longer to stave off what cruel fate Noctis has lying in wait for him. If she could, she would take his burden with her to carry, all the way to the Astrals, to whatever end will rise up to meet her — and she'd take Prompto's consecrated despair as well, although it would be nice — nicer than anything, to speak with him just as she is. Not as the Oracle or Noctis's once-fianceé or even the princess of Tenebrae, but as Lunafreya alone — here, in these hours remaining to her alone, to live as she's wanted to.
To that end, Luna doesn't interrupt him, falling silent to listen. Warmth coalesces in her hands where she's rubbed them together, generating friction and tangible heat, and the gentle slope of her smile doesn't deviate, though it does tip towards the end. Something a little more sad, doleful by a dismal percentage. She blinks down at her hands, which knot and unknot with a certain gracelessness unbefitting of any Oracle, then glances up at him again, eyelashes lowered, painting hazy shadows over her cheeks. ]
Thank you for telling me. Admitting something so personal would take anyone much courage. I would understand if you didn't wish to continue further.
[ For a second, Luna wavers, her fingers still intertwined together in her lap, then she extricates one hand, laying her palm over one of his own hands. Thirty seconds, perhaps less — just enough for him to feel the pressure of it over his knuckles in sympathy, before she's rescinded her palm. ]
You must have been lonely during that time. The path that lies ahead of us all can be a difficult one to surmount at times, especially when taken alone. [ A pause, then: ] ... My letter. Do you remember me telling you that Noctis was in a situation very similar to your own? Before we'd met, he was busy with the duties held to him as a prince, and hadn't had the time to make friends, much less acquaint himself with those outside of his immediate staff. But the day he befriended you, he sent Umbra to me — with a picture of the two of you. I'd known that he was happy, then, because he'd never once sent me anything like that before. A picture of him with a friend unrelated to his title. Someone he treasured very much. Truthfully, I'd wanted to meet you, too. Someone who treated everyone he met so kindly.
[ Luna's gaze is clear, for the lack of any deceptions. ]
I'm grateful you took care of him so well, and that I could help you reach out to him. I'm sure you're one of the reasons that he's able to smile as widely as he does now. [ And her own face softens by a very, very marginal degree. ] So I hope you don't feel so badly over it. I'd sent the letter, but the one who became friends with him was you, Prompto. You made that choice yourself.
[ he’s staring resolute, down at the shag carpeting underneath his boots, still feeling the weight of revealing something so intrinsic to himself, the loneliness that in a way… has made him who he is. a loneliness that wasn’t out of choice, really who wants to be alone, ( and that’s why he really needs to stop this, he knows what he’s doing as his gaze flicks to her from the corner of his eyes and he makes a quick study of how her lashes fan over her cheekbones, he’s putting— he’s been putting her on a high pedestal, a shelf waaay out of reach. and it has to be as lonely looking down, as it is looking up, right? he’s never wanted to be lonely, and lady lunafreya, he thinks she doesn’t want to be either. ) but because he didn’t know how to be anything else. she reaches over, places her hand over his, a covering over his knuckles so quickly gone that for a second he fears that he’s imagined it, but even after the contact is gone there’s still the lingering warmth that proves that it wasn’t wishful thinking.
his gaze moves from the floor, to his hand— to her face when she calls him brave of all things. disbelieving. she speaks of noctis sending a photo of them, of him and his mind tries to go through all the photos they’ve taken together, there were so many where noct looked fine but he was pulling faces, and he hopes noct had the grace to send one where they both looked good to lunafreya.
to think, noctis sent one of him at all. it’s a lot, to take in at once. the photo, and. to be accepted, for his loneliness, the burn of his cheeks which he knows must be splotched red. and for a moment after she’s done, he’s silent as if stricken ( he knows the lines of lunafreya’s face by now, she’s been with them long enough. knows them like he knows gladio’s, how the line of jaw tightens incrementally when he’s irritated. how a crease forms between ignis’s brows as he’s contemplating their shopping list, and the hard line of noct’s brow when he’s facing an enemy. and he can tell there’s a small change, in lunafreya’s expression, a lightening almost ), left bereft of words mouth hanging just a tiny bit open before he regains himself. shuts his mouth closed, only to open it again a moment later, and after her eloquence, what he comes up with is… lacking. ] He… Noct really sent you a photo? Of us? [ incredulous still, he doesn’t pause for an affirmative before barreling forward ] Of course he did. He probably picked a bad one too, or one where he looked good and I— [ he shakes his head, minutely. ] That’s not important.
[ this isn’t about the photo— and even though he wants to ask more about it, he still hasn’t said what he’s wanted to this whole time. there’s a long inhale, a gambit so that he time to collect himself before he turns a bit, orienting himself towards her. ] I— yeah. I was… pretty lonely. I thought, well, that I was invisible. [ it’s kind of funny, just a bit, looking back on it now. of course he wasn’t invisible, he remembers kids knocking into his desk during break by accident, how they’d apologize and due to both a lack of courage and deeming his camera safer said nothing in return. ] I know I wasn’t, but that’s what it kinda felt like, until I got your letter. I think… it’s what gave me the [ maybe it was courage. but at the time it felt more like hope strung on faith on lunafreya’s belief that he could be friends with the prince. ] push to even talk to Noct. To talk to anyone, really. I wish I could have wrote you back.
[ maybe he could have. thanked her, then. wrote to her in fumbling terms, he probably isn’t any btter now, how much it meant to him. ] Really, what I’ve wanted to tell you this whole time. It’s probably going to be a bit of a let down, after all this but— Thank you.
[ his voice cracks on the last bit, with emotion. earnest. he hopes his thank you means something, in all of those that she’s already received. ]
[ That's the truth of it, then. The strange, warbling loneliness that sits in Luna, gentle and sad and compartmentalized into what she can tolerate and what she can't bear to acknowledge. The years spent with Ravus and his disconsolation have never been any less heartbroken, nor the strange, peculiar sadness of being at Noctis's side any less potent after they'd been cleaved for twelve years. They're no longer the children enamored by the tales of light and dark — or sheer extremes, when the shadows cannot be severed from what fosters them, the perpetuity of the loop. Cyclic, still, as her own death swings ever closer.
(Gentiana, warning her of her duties, still. The selfishness she takes on in Noct's company: the appeal toward joy, smarting with the memory of holding Noctis's hand and guiding him through the fields of sylleblossoms, the undulating blue of the sea enthralled with the land, all the rippling petals and half-made blooms, the wonderful transience of life where it was only ever meant to decay and fade. Magic runs its course through her veins, but Luna's governed only by her own whims, by the cruel, outlandish dictates of her pulse. Fate wasn't merciful enough to render her unfeeling.)
Her own life is too impressively short to be afraid how Prompto was, afraid to take that leap of faith under the brunt of aggression and all that could quash a soul down to its essence. But Luna recognizes that duality in them: the sick, retching despair of the unknown that rears up, even if his own fight is on a magnitude that deals with himself, and hers is a conflict that's never belonged to her. Not since the Niflheim invasion. Not since she'd released King Regis's hand, and with it, bidding farewell to Prince Noctis and whatever life she could've had beside him if she was never crowned the Oracle.
Her fingers shape themselves inwards, curling toward her palms, leaving half-moons between the creases. ]
No, I'm happy I could inspire you, although you should know that you've been underestimating yourself. I've seen how you support the others. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. I suppose that claim must sound very presumptive, though, after what you've told me. I apologize for that.
[ His fears are ungrounded, but it's not as if she misunderstands the oppressiveness the grip of the psyche is, conditioned toward self-doubt. Even now, Luna's charity is something born from Prompto's boldness, taking the initiative for raw-boned honesty in a way she couldn't allow for herself. None of Noctis's party are aware of the extent of the arduous ordeals awaiting them, and she can't bring herself to it, to cause undue suffering where they should be gladdened for what time they can spend in each other's company. It's just as simple as listening to Prompto, though, to know where her errors in attempting to carry the weight of the trials to come on her own lie. Breaching the polite distance, Luna shifts until their knees are all but touching, the two of them lingering in close proximity to each other. ]
... You aren't invisible, Prompto. You're here with me, and beside those who would entrust to you their lives, their hopes, their dreams. I scarcely doubt Noctis would bring along someone he felt was unsuited for the trip. He has faith in you. As do we all.
[ He needn't be restrained by his trepidations the way she has resigned herself to her own. Luna can discern what Noctis saw in Prompto that was so compelling: how guileless and sweet his painful honesty was. Without further precursor, her hands revolt against her better compulsions, gliding to deftly clasp around Prompto's fingers. Bracing his hands around the knuckles, she holds them aloft between her palms like the consecration of an open prayer. ]
It would have been nice to be penpals. But I'm glad I could know you like this, in person. It's not very often that I meet someone with such a sincere heart. Being at your side feels very warm.
[ And that's enough. For all of her regrets and her isolation and her will, all bowed before fate, that there are some things that fall to Luna to mean something precious (that thank-you, that gratitude, kinder than anything) when her existence amounts to so little in the grander scheme of things. ]
So you're welcome. I only hope that I can support you in the same regard. As your friend, if you'll allow it.
[ there’s relief in having said it, thank you, after so much time having it stuck in his throat. and then there’s surprise at the reaction, a widening of his own eyes a fraction at the fact that she’s happy to have inspired him, that she doesn’t think he’s strange for having placed so much ( hope, faith ) on someone he’d never met. and to think, some of that faith is now returned, it’s just on the edge of too much. that she ( she, not the oracle. it’s lunafreya’s knees that brush against his own, skin against roughened fabric of his jeans ) thinks that highly of him. then she’s taking his hands, calloused from handling guns and machinery both, and holds them between her own in a gesture that feels weighted. that feels meaningful, despite the setting of cheap motel room, dappled sunlight filtering in through thin curtains. his mouth is suddenly dry, and he swallows. ] Yeah, of course. [ the words are fervent, overloud maybe, in the relative silence. somehow… being here with lunafreya, it seems like they’re in a bubble of their own making. far removed from the rest of the world, and it’s comforting in a way. in a stark contrast to the last couple of weeks when the thought of being alone with her had been short of nerve-wracking. now she’s offering to be his friend, asking if he’ll allow it, which is funny in a way— he’s always coveted friendship, and the challenge now is to not seem too overeager in the face of it being held out to him. ] I wanted— [ he shakes his head, wondering if he should keep this to himself, but then again honesty has gotten him this far— and he only has a limited amount of time. the guys aren’t going to stay on their supply run forever after all, though suddenly he hopes that ignis is struck with the urge to double triple check the list of things they need so he has a bit more time with lunafreya alone. ] I’ve wanted to be friends with you this entire time. I guess I could’ve done better, getting the message across.
[ he wonders what exactly she garnered, from his tentative approaches only to back away the last second. he supposes, he used the same tactic with noct, way back when. coming close to him, hiding behind a telephone pole watching him get into his car to be taken back to the citadel, but never actually saying anything. his gaze flashes to their hands, then back to her face, sheepish. ] Sorry about that, by the way. I hope you didn’t think that I didn’t like you, or anything. More like, I couldn’t figure out what to say.
[ he was pretty much tongue-tied, at the sight of her. and he almost winces, thinking on how stilted their interactions were in comparison to how fluidly she and gladio, or even she and ignis seemed to get along. but then again, friendship, it’s never come easy to him. and he supposes this new one had to have it’s own trial of nerves and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.
the smile he gives, it’s a shade less tentative then the ones that came before. they’re friends, they’re friends and there’s no reason now, to act like a stuttering mess around her. their legs bump together, and he thinks that he should probably enjoy this, the feeling of her hands clasped around his own, because it’s not likely to be a repeat event. ] But, that’s in the past now. [ some of it is still there. the hesitance. the nerves showing still in the highlight of red across his face. ] You know, I want to support you too. [ because in his eyes… it only seems like he’s taken from her. taken her support, taken strength from her words. the itch to prove himself worthy, to help, is suddenly back in full force. though he doesn’t exactly know how to go about it. lunafreya, she’s always seemed untouchable ( a figure in the distance, the writing in noct’s journal, the message of hope on the radio ), seemed… perfect. not needing anyone’s help. but that can’t be right. ] It must be tough, having everyone look to you.
[ having everyone look at you, even. being watched, being televised. he can’t imagine it. and in a way, he guesses he’s been lucky. to be nothing special, to be graced with… being normal. he was alone sure, but he was never bothered like noct was, his actions never scrutinized. ]
[ Conciliation really drops into her that gently. Her fingers cross over Prompto's, dangling in his grasp — a good premonition of the smile that comes sailing over her face a few seconds later. Right as forecasted, it's an echo of a grin biting at her lips. Shy and hapless, despite the dignified air she puts on: the regal breeding of a Nox Fleuret in her posture, a high backing casting a deceptive calm (feigned).
She's been here before. Every time, when the crowds failed to disperse, looking on at her with too much hope. The common denominator is the weight of it — the burden struck heavily over her back where they sit, heels cooling on carpet. And strangely, Prompto hasn't wrenched away, not from her lukewarm touch or the hesitation contorting in her. She's only half-competent at the task. Only half-good, the rest of her human and pulled apart by contradictions: to guide Noctis or stand by him, to remain here or to go ahead, rousing the rest of the Astrals to pay heed to the crown prince's call when the rest of the entourage comes. ]
It's nothing so exacting, Prompto. It was merely what was required of me, and I cannot say I begrudge it. It's all I've known, and I only hope I can continue to prove myself capable. With you and the others to lend me your aid, I have no fears.
[ Odds are, she won't survive this trip. But it's not a very tender, delicate matter for someone so acquainted with death and loss, the parameters of which are devastating and far-reaching. Luna's hands withdraw, unlinking from Prompto, shaking free of the pleasant numbness of it prickling after holding the same position for so long. Reading the shift in his face in the uptick of his mouth, she shakes her head, the crease between her brows smoothing itself out. ]
Though, I must profess that it's much easier to talk in close company than before an audience. I would assume that it's the same for most people, and to have so many eyes on you can be quite humbling at times ...
[ Scrutinized by her next of kin for her favoritism, walking the tripwire. The truth is, she's either losing her imperfect touch on the situation, or their adversaries are gaining their own. It's much too late for her to prove her own in a fight, weak of constitution (even if not particularly lacking in spirit), but peering at Prompto now is nostalgic — like maybe she'd open her heart a bit more fully if she'd been the girl she was ten years younger with wishes of her own. That one letter. That one missed connection. Luna tips her head, softens her sorrow. ]
But I don't regret any of it. Being the Oracle is an honor. I'm glad I could reach you with those words, too. It's not something I would've been able to accomplish, had I not accepted this role. Though you've faced much strife in the past, I'm very happy I could reach you as I am.
[ Gaze limpid, Luna slides her hands down the minuscule creases wrinkling her dress, rising to her feet. ]
I suspect it must've been dreadfully boring watching me from all the way up here, though. Would you like to join me in a walk around the general area? Until the others return.
[ Perhaps that retracted grip was too premature, though, given how she outstretches her hand out to him again: an askance to pull Prompto back upright. ]
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Sparing no convenience, Noctis converses with her often enough — the very first day she'd settled on the road with them, he'd made a concerted effort not to nap, taking the wheel (apparently a rare occurrence, according to Ignis) and going on a mostly humble tangent about their various hunting travails (one of which included, bizarrely, a humungous turtle posing as a mountain). He's treated her with kindness, wide enough to span the twelve years they spent absent from each other. He's much the same as she remembered in many respects — fumbling but earnest, taking great pains to keep up an amicable air around her in the light of the rowdiness of butting heads with Gladio, challenging Prompto at another round of King's Knight, snapping up groceries at Ignis's behest.
And their fondness for each other is apparent enough with respect to their fights, shielding each other, lobbing curatives to each other, timing preemptive strikes with little more than a call-out and a decisive blow, Noctis warping with the magic of someone utterly free and unconstrained, something to behold. Luna's spoken at length to Ignis and Gladio, who have regaled her with their own colorful anecdotes detailing the minutiae of their lives as Noctis's respective adviser and bodyguard, and it's not all that difficult to ascertain why King Regis so emphatically approved of the two escorting the trip. They treat Noctis as they would their own flesh and blood — afford him the breadth of their lives that comes intrinsic with their Highness's birthright without batting an eye.
It's only Prompto who's remained conspicuously absent from these talks, although he's affable enough upon wishing her well her every morning and evening. A polite distance, but not detached: respectable, even when tossing down his hand of losing cards after a game of Texas hold'em gone terribly awry. She doesn't push the tentative distance he maintains even on occasions like these, when the other members of the party have gone out on an impromptu supply run. Having a friendly discourse with the locals and tourists alike that tend to flock around the hotel has since become a harmless pastime of her own. Beyond being the Oracle, it's pleasant enough to acquaint herself with people from all walks of life, uncurbed by ever-present threats to their lives or her own.
Upon a rather innocuous text from Prompto, however, she's amicable to bid her farewell and head up the staircase and through the hallways, stowing off toward the room they've reserved. Luna knocks once, a quick rap of her knuckles on the door, and then patently makes her entrance, complacent in her greeting. ]
Prompto? You wished to speak with me?
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he remembers trailing after the puppy and trying to wrap her in a towel, but his reflexes were slow then, and pryna was fast— and the situation had ended with him on the ground. his chest heaving, and finally pryna taking pity on him, and budging his shoulder with her wet nose. he remembers the sense of loss he felt, on finding her gone one day. on coming home to absolute silence, except for his footsteps on the thin carpeting.
but then, there was the letter. the one that had changed everything, with a simple thank you and the assumption that he was friends with the prince. the fact that the girl who wrote it, lunafreya, thought that he could be friends with the prince. well. it had given him a push that he had been missing, a motivation to change. and it really had given him his place here, with the guys, and now with her. if it wasn’t for her, the letter, he would—
he would probably still be alone.
but he doesn’t say any of that. instead when he does turn around in his seat, he smiles at her before ducking his head and turning to gladio and cheerfully asking what terrible one gil novel he’s picked up now from their latest pit stop. he doesn’t say it when noct is driving rattling on about the places they’ve been, not when they’re out of the regalia and walking around, ignis regaling them with the history of the region they’re in. the natural flora and fauna. he trails behind and occasionally pipes up with a comment that sounds stupid in retrospect, like how the view is killer from the top of the mountain they’re near, and that they should climb it together one day. this time with luna.
other than that he keeps a distance, is cordial, says good morning, nice day isn’t it? but any more than that and his throat turns dry, and the words ‘did you know you changed my life’ get stuck in it. and he doesn’t think it would be that weird to tell her so, as oracle she’s probably changed hundreds of lives, given more people hope with her voice he remembers hearing over the radio. by healing them, her hands glowing a warm gold with a magic different than noct’s, and it was fascinating enough the one time he saw it that he had to grab a picture.
which might have broken the first rule of don’t be weird. and things, this, it’s going to have to change because the other’s have probably started to notice the careful way he is around her— and he doesn’t want that. he wants to treat her normally, to be friends. friends with the oracle of eos. so he texts her. waits in their hotel room, for her to finish her conversations outside, he had noticed how the locals had flocked to her, watched from the motel window ( weird ) before flopping on the bed closest to the door. he had been laying down, feet dangling off of the mattress before lunafreya knocked, and at the sound he straightened up to sitting in an instant. manages to brush his fingertips through his bangs to fix them before she enters. ] Yeah, kinda silly for me to text you about it, huh? I should have just come down and— but I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked busy. The people here, they really look up to you, I can tell.
[ because he does as well.
he wants to start, with the letter, but the words-stuck-in-throat thing is happening again, and what if she doesn’t even remember writing him anything.
he clears his throat, before he shifts over, making room for her to sit next to him. ]
D’you wanna sit?
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(He was like that before, too: soft-spoken, a little shy for his rank, but always eager to learn. Not all of him has remained unchanged, but that part of him has permanence. It might never leave him now, his honesty and how it oozes out of him, a gaping wound, a weak point as much as his triumph against the burden of the throne.)
So she's kept in her mind, that day Noctis chose to slip a picture into the margins (I made a friend today) and how sweetly enthused the two of them appeared in the photo, like the lens had taken a snippet of their souls in the process, ingrained it into the bright-fleshed colors of printed film. But she recognizes the boy beside him even a couple of years changed: the freckles scattered on the bridge of the nose are the same, as is the certain lilt of his head (blond hair, eyes bluer than anything), overzealous, animated, in fervent motion. She wouldn't forget, not for his name or how exceedingly well he'd treated Pryna, who always seemed to harbor a profound fondness for bowls of milk after her return.
And it's no trespass now for her — if anything, she's made a little shy for it, although she's spared no small inconvenience to offer her thanks. This is more than out of obligation, however, easing herself into the room, encountering him without the diversion of a third party. The promise of a promise, a secret shared in confidence, something tender and heart-wrenching. Her smile is too soft for it. ]
No, you weren't a bother in the slightest. If I may be so bold in admitting as much, I'm very happy for the chance to converse with you. I mean you no discomfort.
[ Head bowed, she keeps her hands wound together, first intertwined in front of her, then folded into her lap as she takes the proffered seat beside him. It's all too telling that he's lapsed into some state of bashfulness, a clear sign that he sees himself as a nuisance to her. That's not something she can heal with any preciseness for lack of some substantial to mend, but Luna continues on undeterred all the same. Luna gazes sidelong at him, head held at a slight tilt. ]
Gladly, thank you. I hope this day has found you well. Were you able to rest? I imagine you must be feeling restless on escort duty.
[ As if Noctis hasn't made his position self-evident now, one person in his retinue, if not himself outright, to safeguard her. It's a very reasonable decision, all things considered. Luna withholds her laugh, but it sits in the slight quirk of her lips all the same. ]
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[ the hotel they’re staying in, it’s no galdin qauy. nothing fancy. the beds are kind of lumpy, but there are four walls. it’s warm. and he’ll take a bed, lumpy or no, over a tent any day. or a sleeping bag that doesn’t accommodate his measure of rolling around while sleeping, traps his limbs in a way he doesn’t appreciate.
he puts his hands behind him, palms down to the comforter, and swings his legs in a position that he hopes reads more comfortable than he feels. alternates between looking out in front of them, and flashing his gaze to her out of the corner of his eye. ] Besides it’s not— [ not any trouble. escort duty, as she puts it. noct leaves one of them with lunafreya, always, to ensure her safety. he can tell, how important she is to him, not just because of his insistance that someone be with her at all times— but just by how he looks at her. how he had looked at their shared notebook, that umbra had brought him when they still were passing it back and forth. secretive and pleased, and unwilling to share what exactly they were writing despite his nagging. which… made sense. noctis is a prince. and because of that, his life has been open. to everyone in insomnia, to lucis, maybe he just wanted to keep something for himself.
he doesn’t want to say it’s a… honor looking after her, the words sounding stiff and uncomfortable even in his own head. far removed from the friendship he wants, that he had gotten with noct by treating him like himself instead of royalty. and he wants to do the same with luna, treat her like he would anyone else, not as oracle. as a princess. but it’s easier thought than done. ] I’ve been on a ton of supply runs. Nothing new, there. This is kind of… nice.
[ he’s never… been chosen, to guard lunafreya before. it’s always been ignis or gladio, and the fact that noct has left this to him, it makes his chest swell in a way that’s pleasant.
it means that noct trusts him.
a moment. ]
I— what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you remember a while ago, actually a long while ago, when I found Pryna? [ his legs stop their swinging, he can feel his palms start to warm, and fights the urge to rub them on the comforter’s surface. ] Do you… remember writing me?
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So close to the end, and she sought out what memories she could still take along with her, for lack of a physical memento. That she's already dying, that her body is failing her, unable to mend. It's so silly, how she calls into question her own loyalties here, for the world or for her own sake, for whatever minutes remain to her. Fear reciting its old, strained lullaby. Of course she'd want to find her own answers in Noctis's precious friends, this close to the end.
And the moment clarifies itself, setting a precent for emotionally-strained talks, but no more digressions. Luna's gaze flicks up to regard him, gentle and pacified by this galvanized showing. Prompto really is something — like some bright-limned sun in the room, his voice rising and dipping in octaves. ]
A change of pace is very refreshing. Rarely have I had the chance to spend time like this in the past. I'm more than gladdened to have that opportunity now.
[ Whether or not the corner of her mouth spread, stare gliding down when his legs shudder, displaced from their wheeling motions. The clock ticks along, its pulse singing off-key. He appears dazzled, but there's nothing too remarkable about her, the tool compelled to its duty. It's the ease with which he presses his palms down, sundering air, fidgeting, that arrests her in turn. ]
Yes. As I recall, you took care of her until she could find her way home. I'd feared for her safety, but Pryna came back to me in extremely good spirits. I'm grateful that you tended to her so gently. She liked you very much.
[ And she's looking him full in the face now, bangs swept out of her face, her smile opened to amusement, then close-lipped (enigmatic). The familiar middle ground between wanting to say something, only to show painful restraint — she's been well-acquainted with that kind of masochism for over a decade now. So she implores him. ]
... I wouldn't forget thanking you for your kindness, Prompto. If there's anything weighing down upon your heart, please, tell me. I only hope I can set your worries at rest.
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she remembers and he’s passed hurdle number one of this conversation, the hardest one, actually getting it started. and he doesn’t sigh in relief, but he smiles back at her. it’s kind of impossible not to, when her attention is on him, smiling like they’re sharing a secret. ] That was the worry. The main one. That you didn’t remember. I wanted to ask you, if you did, for awhile. But the timing never seemed right.
[ not after fights, certainly not in the car where the others have been present. this isn’t something he wants them to overhear. he doesn’t really… talk about his childhood, with them. with anyone, really. though he remembers in crystal clear, moments of loneliness, moments of too-quiet punctuated by his parents coming and going. leaving money on the table. more embarrassing things like getting caught trying to take a picture of the cat next door, trying to be covert and getting caught.
but then there was pryna, small and hurt on the sidewalk in front of his house, and he’s glad it happened. not that she was hurt, but that he got to take care of her. those couple of days, they were fun. it was nice, having a companion he didn’t have to stalk over a fence. ] I’m glad, I liked her too.
[ but that’s not what he wants to talk about, he could probably gush about pryna, about animals all day. and wouldn’t that be something, looking at dog pics with lady lunafreya? ]
Your letter— [ where to start, with this. he cants his head, slightly. thinking. ] I kept it, made sure it was safe. Because… when you said you hoped I could keep being friends with Noct, it was the first time I felt someone was counting on me. Entrusting me with something [ and he picks up his hands from their resting place, gestures in the space in front of him, trying to get across the enormity of it. ] important. I didn’t know you, but I really didn’t want to let you down.
To be honest, I wasn’t friends with Noct, at the time. I actually… didn’t have any friends.
[ this is… embarrassing. more embarrassing then he thought it would be, he didn’t expect to get this real. he should have just said thanks for the letter, and left it at that. he can feel his face start to burn, heat. ]
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And perhaps that's where the dissonance lies: that Prompto sees her as some divinity or saint or martyr to her cause when she's little more than a woman coddling that mortal fissure-break in her heart, like a knife that she has yet to succumb to, living on just a little longer to stave off what cruel fate Noctis has lying in wait for him. If she could, she would take his burden with her to carry, all the way to the Astrals, to whatever end will rise up to meet her — and she'd take Prompto's consecrated despair as well, although it would be nice — nicer than anything, to speak with him just as she is. Not as the Oracle or Noctis's once-fianceé or even the princess of Tenebrae, but as Lunafreya alone — here, in these hours remaining to her alone, to live as she's wanted to.
To that end, Luna doesn't interrupt him, falling silent to listen. Warmth coalesces in her hands where she's rubbed them together, generating friction and tangible heat, and the gentle slope of her smile doesn't deviate, though it does tip towards the end. Something a little more sad, doleful by a dismal percentage. She blinks down at her hands, which knot and unknot with a certain gracelessness unbefitting of any Oracle, then glances up at him again, eyelashes lowered, painting hazy shadows over her cheeks. ]
Thank you for telling me. Admitting something so personal would take anyone much courage. I would understand if you didn't wish to continue further.
[ For a second, Luna wavers, her fingers still intertwined together in her lap, then she extricates one hand, laying her palm over one of his own hands. Thirty seconds, perhaps less — just enough for him to feel the pressure of it over his knuckles in sympathy, before she's rescinded her palm. ]
You must have been lonely during that time. The path that lies ahead of us all can be a difficult one to surmount at times, especially when taken alone. [ A pause, then: ] ... My letter. Do you remember me telling you that Noctis was in a situation very similar to your own? Before we'd met, he was busy with the duties held to him as a prince, and hadn't had the time to make friends, much less acquaint himself with those outside of his immediate staff. But the day he befriended you, he sent Umbra to me — with a picture of the two of you. I'd known that he was happy, then, because he'd never once sent me anything like that before. A picture of him with a friend unrelated to his title. Someone he treasured very much. Truthfully, I'd wanted to meet you, too. Someone who treated everyone he met so kindly.
[ Luna's gaze is clear, for the lack of any deceptions. ]
I'm grateful you took care of him so well, and that I could help you reach out to him. I'm sure you're one of the reasons that he's able to smile as widely as he does now. [ And her own face softens by a very, very marginal degree. ] So I hope you don't feel so badly over it. I'd sent the letter, but the one who became friends with him was you, Prompto. You made that choice yourself.
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his gaze moves from the floor, to his hand— to her face when she calls him brave of all things. disbelieving. she speaks of noctis sending a photo of them, of him and his mind tries to go through all the photos they’ve taken together, there were so many where noct looked fine but he was pulling faces, and he hopes noct had the grace to send one where they both looked good to lunafreya.
to think, noctis sent one of him at all. it’s a lot, to take in at once. the photo, and. to be accepted, for his loneliness, the burn of his cheeks which he knows must be splotched red. and for a moment after she’s done, he’s silent as if stricken ( he knows the lines of lunafreya’s face by now, she’s been with them long enough. knows them like he knows gladio’s, how the line of jaw tightens incrementally when he’s irritated. how a crease forms between ignis’s brows as he’s contemplating their shopping list, and the hard line of noct’s brow when he’s facing an enemy. and he can tell there’s a small change, in lunafreya’s expression, a lightening almost ), left bereft of words mouth hanging just a tiny bit open before he regains himself. shuts his mouth closed, only to open it again a moment later, and after her eloquence, what he comes up with is… lacking. ] He… Noct really sent you a photo? Of us? [ incredulous still, he doesn’t pause for an affirmative before barreling forward ] Of course he did. He probably picked a bad one too, or one where he looked good and I— [ he shakes his head, minutely. ] That’s not important.
[ this isn’t about the photo— and even though he wants to ask more about it, he still hasn’t said what he’s wanted to this whole time. there’s a long inhale, a gambit so that he time to collect himself before he turns a bit, orienting himself towards her. ] I— yeah. I was… pretty lonely. I thought, well, that I was invisible. [ it’s kind of funny, just a bit, looking back on it now. of course he wasn’t invisible, he remembers kids knocking into his desk during break by accident, how they’d apologize and due to both a lack of courage and deeming his camera safer said nothing in return. ] I know I wasn’t, but that’s what it kinda felt like, until I got your letter. I think… it’s what gave me the [ maybe it was courage. but at the time it felt more like hope strung on faith on lunafreya’s belief that he could be friends with the prince. ] push to even talk to Noct. To talk to anyone, really. I wish I could have wrote you back.
[ maybe he could have. thanked her, then. wrote to her in fumbling terms, he probably isn’t any btter now, how much it meant to him. ] Really, what I’ve wanted to tell you this whole time. It’s probably going to be a bit of a let down, after all this but— Thank you.
[ his voice cracks on the last bit, with emotion. earnest. he hopes his thank you means something, in all of those that she’s already received. ]
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(Gentiana, warning her of her duties, still. The selfishness she takes on in Noct's company: the appeal toward joy, smarting with the memory of holding Noctis's hand and guiding him through the fields of sylleblossoms, the undulating blue of the sea enthralled with the land, all the rippling petals and half-made blooms, the wonderful transience of life where it was only ever meant to decay and fade. Magic runs its course through her veins, but Luna's governed only by her own whims, by the cruel, outlandish dictates of her pulse. Fate wasn't merciful enough to render her unfeeling.)
Her own life is too impressively short to be afraid how Prompto was, afraid to take that leap of faith under the brunt of aggression and all that could quash a soul down to its essence. But Luna recognizes that duality in them: the sick, retching despair of the unknown that rears up, even if his own fight is on a magnitude that deals with himself, and hers is a conflict that's never belonged to her. Not since the Niflheim invasion. Not since she'd released King Regis's hand, and with it, bidding farewell to Prince Noctis and whatever life she could've had beside him if she was never crowned the Oracle.
Her fingers shape themselves inwards, curling toward her palms, leaving half-moons between the creases. ]
No, I'm happy I could inspire you, although you should know that you've been underestimating yourself. I've seen how you support the others. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. I suppose that claim must sound very presumptive, though, after what you've told me. I apologize for that.
[ His fears are ungrounded, but it's not as if she misunderstands the oppressiveness the grip of the psyche is, conditioned toward self-doubt. Even now, Luna's charity is something born from Prompto's boldness, taking the initiative for raw-boned honesty in a way she couldn't allow for herself. None of Noctis's party are aware of the extent of the arduous ordeals awaiting them, and she can't bring herself to it, to cause undue suffering where they should be gladdened for what time they can spend in each other's company. It's just as simple as listening to Prompto, though, to know where her errors in attempting to carry the weight of the trials to come on her own lie. Breaching the polite distance, Luna shifts until their knees are all but touching, the two of them lingering in close proximity to each other. ]
... You aren't invisible, Prompto. You're here with me, and beside those who would entrust to you their lives, their hopes, their dreams. I scarcely doubt Noctis would bring along someone he felt was unsuited for the trip. He has faith in you. As do we all.
[ He needn't be restrained by his trepidations the way she has resigned herself to her own. Luna can discern what Noctis saw in Prompto that was so compelling: how guileless and sweet his painful honesty was. Without further precursor, her hands revolt against her better compulsions, gliding to deftly clasp around Prompto's fingers. Bracing his hands around the knuckles, she holds them aloft between her palms like the consecration of an open prayer. ]
It would have been nice to be penpals. But I'm glad I could know you like this, in person. It's not very often that I meet someone with such a sincere heart. Being at your side feels very warm.
[ And that's enough. For all of her regrets and her isolation and her will, all bowed before fate, that there are some things that fall to Luna to mean something precious (that thank-you, that gratitude, kinder than anything) when her existence amounts to so little in the grander scheme of things. ]
So you're welcome. I only hope that I can support you in the same regard. As your friend, if you'll allow it.
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[ he wonders what exactly she garnered, from his tentative approaches only to back away the last second. he supposes, he used the same tactic with noct, way back when. coming close to him, hiding behind a telephone pole watching him get into his car to be taken back to the citadel, but never actually saying anything. his gaze flashes to their hands, then back to her face, sheepish. ] Sorry about that, by the way. I hope you didn’t think that I didn’t like you, or anything. More like, I couldn’t figure out what to say.
[ he was pretty much tongue-tied, at the sight of her. and he almost winces, thinking on how stilted their interactions were in comparison to how fluidly she and gladio, or even she and ignis seemed to get along. but then again, friendship, it’s never come easy to him. and he supposes this new one had to have it’s own trial of nerves and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.
the smile he gives, it’s a shade less tentative then the ones that came before. they’re friends, they’re friends and there’s no reason now, to act like a stuttering mess around her. their legs bump together, and he thinks that he should probably enjoy this, the feeling of her hands clasped around his own, because it’s not likely to be a repeat event. ] But, that’s in the past now. [ some of it is still there. the hesitance. the nerves showing still in the highlight of red across his face. ] You know, I want to support you too. [ because in his eyes… it only seems like he’s taken from her. taken her support, taken strength from her words. the itch to prove himself worthy, to help, is suddenly back in full force. though he doesn’t exactly know how to go about it. lunafreya, she’s always seemed untouchable ( a figure in the distance, the writing in noct’s journal, the message of hope on the radio ), seemed… perfect. not needing anyone’s help. but that can’t be right. ] It must be tough, having everyone look to you.
[ having everyone look at you, even. being watched, being televised. he can’t imagine it. and in a way, he guesses he’s been lucky. to be nothing special, to be graced with… being normal. he was alone sure, but he was never bothered like noct was, his actions never scrutinized. ]
I can’t imagine it.
no subject
She's been here before. Every time, when the crowds failed to disperse, looking on at her with too much hope. The common denominator is the weight of it — the burden struck heavily over her back where they sit, heels cooling on carpet. And strangely, Prompto hasn't wrenched away, not from her lukewarm touch or the hesitation contorting in her. She's only half-competent at the task. Only half-good, the rest of her human and pulled apart by contradictions: to guide Noctis or stand by him, to remain here or to go ahead, rousing the rest of the Astrals to pay heed to the crown prince's call when the rest of the entourage comes. ]
It's nothing so exacting, Prompto. It was merely what was required of me, and I cannot say I begrudge it. It's all I've known, and I only hope I can continue to prove myself capable. With you and the others to lend me your aid, I have no fears.
[ Odds are, she won't survive this trip. But it's not a very tender, delicate matter for someone so acquainted with death and loss, the parameters of which are devastating and far-reaching. Luna's hands withdraw, unlinking from Prompto, shaking free of the pleasant numbness of it prickling after holding the same position for so long. Reading the shift in his face in the uptick of his mouth, she shakes her head, the crease between her brows smoothing itself out. ]
Though, I must profess that it's much easier to talk in close company than before an audience. I would assume that it's the same for most people, and to have so many eyes on you can be quite humbling at times ...
[ Scrutinized by her next of kin for her favoritism, walking the tripwire. The truth is, she's either losing her imperfect touch on the situation, or their adversaries are gaining their own. It's much too late for her to prove her own in a fight, weak of constitution (even if not particularly lacking in spirit), but peering at Prompto now is nostalgic — like maybe she'd open her heart a bit more fully if she'd been the girl she was ten years younger with wishes of her own. That one letter. That one missed connection. Luna tips her head, softens her sorrow. ]
But I don't regret any of it. Being the Oracle is an honor. I'm glad I could reach you with those words, too. It's not something I would've been able to accomplish, had I not accepted this role. Though you've faced much strife in the past, I'm very happy I could reach you as I am.
[ Gaze limpid, Luna slides her hands down the minuscule creases wrinkling her dress, rising to her feet. ]
I suspect it must've been dreadfully boring watching me from all the way up here, though. Would you like to join me in a walk around the general area? Until the others return.
[ Perhaps that retracted grip was too premature, though, given how she outstretches her hand out to him again: an askance to pull Prompto back upright. ]