[ 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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no subject
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.
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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. ]