[ Conciliation really drops into her that gently. Her fingers cross over Prompto's, dangling in his grasp β 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 β 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 β 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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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 β 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 β 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. ]