Normally, his early morning patrols are quiet, but he does them anyway, like clockwork. His last loop during this time of year means dawn’s light hasn’t yet broken over the watery edge of mist that clings to the edge of the town near the river. But the sky is starting to lighten, and so he checks one last time around some of the empty cottages for various nasty stow-aways. Lately, he’s been having to run down the wretched little brainlings plaguing their sleep, but he hasn’t come across one yet today.
Yet, being the keyword, because as he nears the cabins the others from his world share, a searing pain lances behind his eyes. Ravus bares his teeth, stumbling to a halt as the memory comes crashing down on him like a roaring avalanche.
There’s a pang of almost childish confusion, one that feels so foreign he knows it can’t be his own thoughts. It takes a moment to focus through the sudden change. And then, chaos.
But that feeling is familiar. In horrible, earth-shattering ways, he knows the screams of panic and pain, orders being called out over the roar of fire and singing of steel. The daemonic beast howling in the memory is not the same as the cold, hellish whirring of the MTs, but it’s a minor detail. In his own body, there’s a phantom pain in his magitek arm, where a bullet had struck him years and years ago. But it fades quickly, the foreign memory overpowering his own as the terror and fear whips up like a storm. The reek of blood burns his senses and the back of his throat, until it slows again. Slows and quiets until the memory is more of a dream, and fades with the dark pall of night giving way to dawn.
He shivers, right down to his tail tip, realizing what he’s seen. So when he comes around the corner of the next cabin, following skittering tracks, he’s not surprised to see Noctis there. His forlorn expression is in the glass, and Ravus slowly walks behind him so that the younger prince can catch his reflection there. Despite the jagged length of his tail, Ravus uses it to gently brush Noctis’ back as he comes around to his side, higher up, and closer to his shoulder, than nearer to the scar. The rest of him keeps close, just a wisp away from touching, but leaving that up to Noctis if he wishes for the gap to remain.
“You were always quiet back then; we never pushed you to relive the daemon attack from that day. No one wished to reopen a wound whose physical impact we could barely heal as is.” Ravus speaks low and soft, only the ghost of his breath in the cold giving away he speaks to anyone but them. “I would not have pried given the choice.” A beat, and Ravus looks to Noctis instead of his reflection. “Has it been bothering you more as of late?”
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Yet, being the keyword, because as he nears the cabins the others from his world share, a searing pain lances behind his eyes. Ravus bares his teeth, stumbling to a halt as the memory comes crashing down on him like a roaring avalanche.
There’s a pang of almost childish confusion, one that feels so foreign he knows it can’t be his own thoughts. It takes a moment to focus through the sudden change. And then, chaos.
But that feeling is familiar. In horrible, earth-shattering ways, he knows the screams of panic and pain, orders being called out over the roar of fire and singing of steel. The daemonic beast howling in the memory is not the same as the cold, hellish whirring of the MTs, but it’s a minor detail. In his own body, there’s a phantom pain in his magitek arm, where a bullet had struck him years and years ago. But it fades quickly, the foreign memory overpowering his own as the terror and fear whips up like a storm. The reek of blood burns his senses and the back of his throat, until it slows again. Slows and quiets until the memory is more of a dream, and fades with the dark pall of night giving way to dawn.
He shivers, right down to his tail tip, realizing what he’s seen. So when he comes around the corner of the next cabin, following skittering tracks, he’s not surprised to see Noctis there. His forlorn expression is in the glass, and Ravus slowly walks behind him so that the younger prince can catch his reflection there. Despite the jagged length of his tail, Ravus uses it to gently brush Noctis’ back as he comes around to his side, higher up, and closer to his shoulder, than nearer to the scar. The rest of him keeps close, just a wisp away from touching, but leaving that up to Noctis if he wishes for the gap to remain.
“You were always quiet back then; we never pushed you to relive the daemon attack from that day. No one wished to reopen a wound whose physical impact we could barely heal as is.” Ravus speaks low and soft, only the ghost of his breath in the cold giving away he speaks to anyone but them. “I would not have pried given the choice.” A beat, and Ravus looks to Noctis instead of his reflection. “Has it been bothering you more as of late?”