There’s no hurry to his pace, but his legs are rather long, and he’s quite used to adjusting for the weight of his arm now. So while there’s no rush, he does still cover ground quickly. Or maybe it only seems to pass so swiftly, enjoying the warmth against his palm, and Noctis’ stride keeping pace alongside him. Something about time flying when you’re enjoying yourself and all that.
When they come upon the shop, Ravus is beaten to holding the door by the other prince. Ravus tilts his head, confused to have his usual role reversed on him, but does step inside when bidden.
He doesn’t need Noctis to finish the sentence to feel the familiar pain of loss deep in his chest. Vast swaths of Fenestala were burned to the ground the day Niflheim came, including much of his mother’s personal library, and in turn, a large portion of his and Lunafreya’s childhood went up in cinders too. Precious memories and stories they shared, little trinkets of flowers and feathers stashed between pages. Gone as quickly as the blade that killed poor Sylva ran her through. What remained, Ravus never truly saw again.
But that’s not here, not now. The gesture Noctis makes means more than Ravus can properly parse in the moment, but he looks back to him with a soft sort of uncertainty. Not one that doubts the other prince’s sincerity, but wonders what he’s done to deserve such a gift. Truth be told, it’s a struggle to find the right words. The ones that express his gratitude properly, how much it means to be given back the chance at old treasures, simply being allowed to have things as precious and delicate as fine paper and delicate fabric spines again. Joys he never knew he took for granted until all that remained to him was the cold steel of Niflheim’s walls.
“I’d like that, yes,” he finally says, voice and expression softening as he looks at Noctis. If there is someone left that truly understands what this means to him, it would be Noctis, wouldn’t it? So he takes the hand that squeezes his own, and gently tugs him near to press a soft kiss amidst the dark crown of his hair. Quietly, just between the pair, he muses on an old memory they share.
“I doubt they'll have an exact copy of ’St. Viviana and the Sea Dogs,’ but we ought to look for something similar. It would be a treasured start to a collection, wouldn't it?”
no subject
When they come upon the shop, Ravus is beaten to holding the door by the other prince. Ravus tilts his head, confused to have his usual role reversed on him, but does step inside when bidden.
He doesn’t need Noctis to finish the sentence to feel the familiar pain of loss deep in his chest. Vast swaths of Fenestala were burned to the ground the day Niflheim came, including much of his mother’s personal library, and in turn, a large portion of his and Lunafreya’s childhood went up in cinders too. Precious memories and stories they shared, little trinkets of flowers and feathers stashed between pages. Gone as quickly as the blade that killed poor Sylva ran her through. What remained, Ravus never truly saw again.
But that’s not here, not now. The gesture Noctis makes means more than Ravus can properly parse in the moment, but he looks back to him with a soft sort of uncertainty. Not one that doubts the other prince’s sincerity, but wonders what he’s done to deserve such a gift. Truth be told, it’s a struggle to find the right words. The ones that express his gratitude properly, how much it means to be given back the chance at old treasures, simply being allowed to have things as precious and delicate as fine paper and delicate fabric spines again. Joys he never knew he took for granted until all that remained to him was the cold steel of Niflheim’s walls.
“I’d like that, yes,” he finally says, voice and expression softening as he looks at Noctis. If there is someone left that truly understands what this means to him, it would be Noctis, wouldn’t it? So he takes the hand that squeezes his own, and gently tugs him near to press a soft kiss amidst the dark crown of his hair. Quietly, just between the pair, he muses on an old memory they share.
“I doubt they'll have an exact copy of ’St. Viviana and the Sea Dogs,’ but we ought to look for something similar. It would be a treasured start to a collection, wouldn't it?”