[ 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 β a woman they've only previously heard through other biased mediums, through whatever snippets Noctis has chosen to speak of her β 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 β 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. ]
no subject
(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 β 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. ]