Noctis Lucis Caelum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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childrenofbahamutlogs2025-02-01 06:49 pm
berriedmemories) wrote in childrenofbahamutlogs2025-02-01 06:49 pm
berriedmemories) wrote in childrenofbahamutlogs2025-02-01 06:49 pm
Our sky darkens, and the world appears.
Ravus wakes with the sun, as per usual, but on his morning patrol (one can never be too careful, especially after the walking, exploding brains incident) he notices something off. A man tuned to rigid routine like himself sees the lack of smoke plumes from the neighboring chimney as odd. Ignis rises at about the same time he does, and typically, by his first full loop of their area, it's billowing. Not today. Ravus stares at the empty space above the chimney spout with a strange sense of dread filling the space between his ribs. It's oppressive how quickly it weighs heavy, but he tells himself it's nothing. It's certainly not the familiar ache he might have once felt when he and Lunafreya occasionally shared the strange, disturbing sensations of fate weaving around them. He hasn't felt those pangs since he lived under his mother's roof, yet the eerie nostalgia remains. Something is amiss.
But this isn't their world. He's no longer steeped in the power of the Oracle's blood. It's just a late morning for his dear friend, that's all.
Until it isn't.
The blur of it all sweeps him up, and one moment he's tending to his stock of herbs, and the next they're all ushering an older, but so much more familiar to him, Ignis back home. Ravus knows exactly the moment he's been ripped from. It's all burned into his memory like a blazing brand. And he knows the haunted look Ignis wears. And he knows the bruises on his body. And he knows the salt-sting on his face from the whip of the wind and rain. He knows. And he wishes he could just keep the man still long enough to wipe the salt and sweat from his brow, and apologize for everything they have and would suffer that day. But he's furious as a blaze, always moving, unwilling to waste the adrenaline, shouldering his burdens and bowing his back over plates of food.
Ravus can only hover, and gingerly stroke his thumb over the gouge in his arm where Ignis’ knife had ended their fight.
So he waits, watches, does as he's told. He helps the others settle into bed. Brings furs and blankets, extra pillows and cups of water. He fusses over them all, but especially Ignis, until everything feels as settled as it can be. Which leaves him... Standing there. Ravus swallows hard, awkwardly backing away from the bed as the others shift and settle. This feels... So intimate. These people, they love Ignis so much, and he knows how much he loves them too. He shouldn't intrude. He's done his duty in being helpful and out of the way. There's little else to do now but let them rest. If anyone knows how exhausting that day in Altissia was, it's Ravus.
Yet his heart hurts too much to just leave. To go back to his empty home, to leave all those things unsaid. Well, maybe he can keep being useful. They're all exhausted, if not physically, then emotionally. It'd do them all well for someone to be on guard. Ravus is a perfect choice. So he's gone briefly to form a quick perimeter, then back again with one of the big, comfortable chairs from his home. He sets it down near enough to the bed to feel close, but not enough to be intrusive. Once he's double checked that all the doors are locked and no drafts come through the windows, he seats himself down, and simply guards them all. Like any attentive hound, he keeps his focus on his sleeping flock, but listens out for any disturbances.
Ravus’ vision has fully adjusted to the dark by the time Ignis twitches, and the silver raises his head slightly. For a long moment, he waits to see if he will simply drift back to sleep, but no, Ravus senses that same leaded weight in his gut again.
“I did not have the chance to speak with you about it that day... I felt Pryna there. I felt her die. But she... She showed you, didn't she? How much did she impart you with?” His voice is a whisper. Half to not disturb the others, but more so in sympathetic anguish. Fate is a cruel thing to carry.
What terrible burden did she lay on your head like a crown of thorns?
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Or perhaps, at least not hear right now, with the answer still tight around his throat like a vice.
Slowly, delicately, the figure in the midst of the pile begins to push himself upwards, but just a bit. Ignis takes care first to pull Noctis and Prompto closer together, bends close over Gladio. Even with the words whispered against the man's ear, Ravus my overhear them regardless: "I'm just getting up for a bit of tea, love, and to pour Ravus a cup as well. I'll be back to bed soon. I won't leave you."
Not without his hands made bloody from the effort of trying to stay.
From there, he carefully extracts himself from the pile, going over Gladio through the blankets rather than navigating the mess which is Noctis and Prompto tangled together. When he finally pulls out, he takes a moment to adjust the blankets. Make sure the warmth doesn't leave them, even if he must just for a moment.
And with that.... A short, quick, commanding gesture to Ravus to follow him out of the room, his own steps dead silent against the wood as he pads over to the door.
He may as well make this not quite a lie, and so Ignis heads back downstairs. Doesn't speak a single thing until they've made it to the bottom, where he can stoke the hearth back into something once more, and fetch the teapot. With so much time passed, it might almost seem like he won't answer Ravus's question...
But he does. Quiet, and coiled tight in his throat. "The end of the prophecy."
Just what it means to be a chosen king.
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So he doesn't push. He simply obeys that beckoning gesture, and sticks close. Close enough to be near enough to brush if Ignis wants to take solace in that, but Ravus keeps the space carefully measured until he's ready.
Ignis is warming the kettle, and Ravus is bringing over the stock of tea leaves and herbs. Many of them he's brought from his foraging, and he's picking through chamomile and lavender when finally he's deigned with an answer. His fingers stop their slow movements over the dried sprigs, and his gaze falls on the steep shadows cast by the fire along Ignis' face. The dancing light need not show him anything. He can hear it all in the tightness of the other's voice.
"I could never wish that burden on anyone else; not on my worst enemies, but least of all on a dear, beloved friend," Ravus says quietly, and comes to sit before the fire with his jars of herbs and a pair of cups. He sits beside Ignis, this time close enough to brush him as he settles. "Though my sympathy could never ease the pain, I am sorry it has been etched into your heart all the same."
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Dark. Like that room. A room lit only by Noctis's own brilliance and the glow of those damned weapons as they hovered, and then plunged -
And then it was only darkness.
Darkness far worse than what he's had to walk through in this simple little house, far worse than a simple lack of electricity or even fire. The kind of darkness that exists only when the world has been robbed of something precious beyond words. Something that has made up all of Ignis's existence. Worse, not a one of them was there. Not a single one of them could be there to hold his hand, or try to stop it, it was only a horde of worthless ghosts who would not do a thing - or was it could not from a spectre whose sword he knew well?
Ignis does not reach out to hold Ravus. All he does is grind his own hands together, fingers pressing down so hard into his knuckles as though he can somehow find some measure of ways to take it all in hand and make it stop.
But he doesn't chase away that pressure against him, either.
Perhaps Ravus may find it an unsettling sort of reflection, to sit besides Ignis as he stares into the flames. The quiet terror and despair which pulls taut all the muscles in his jaw, how his gaze looks straight through the flames as though they and the rest of the world don't matter an ounce - even if they were to leap forward and consume all else around him. As though if he only looks hard enough, digs violently enough until his fingers are bloody...
And yet something digs at him. A question that he did not get an answer to, did not have the time nor opportunity to get an answer to - and never would, from what little he can make out of Gladio's memories.
A breath, to steady himself, through the nose. Held deep in his chest until he can feel some measure of steady.
"...Lady Lunafreya, to my understanding, has always been kind."
He never met the woman herself properly, granted. Lunafreya was always Noctis's dear friend, long before there was any talk of engagement or marriage from twisted political workings of an enemy nation. In truth, perhaps she was one of the few people in the world who could truly understand his situation in a way that even Ignis couldn't ever match despite his best efforts. Royalty, leaders of a nation, burdened with great and terrible things.
Wretched things.
Of course, there were numerous tales of the Oracle's kindness - both Lunafreya's and those of past generations, grand gestures and little efforts alike. Radio stories, newspaper articles, gossip filtered through the masses in various degrees of truth and intensity...
But mostly, he knew she was kind through Noctis. Knew of her spirit, her reassurances, her hope, through what of her letters Noct ever bothered to share with him, especially when they were younger.
And for that...
"Why would she pass it on to me?" To anyone, that terrible black hole of a future, but to him especially.
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"I am not my sister. I am not her grace, her kindness, or her powers. I am merely her shadow, and so what you may glean from me is only the outline of who she was." Ravus speaks it as a warning. All he can offer is his thoughts on the matter, offer insight as only an older brother can. But he can't speak for her. He never could, no matter how much he wished to.
"But," he says, the word heavier on his tongue than a single syllable should be. This isn't what he wants to tell Ignis, but it is the more practical explanation. "I think the most likely answer is that she showed you the truth as an act of mercy. To prepare you for the loss, to brace you for the worst pain imaginable. To make you cherish the life you have with him, and no longer will love when he is gone."
Still, even when if he finally agreed to let Lunafreya make her choice to die, the hope in him could never follow her so willingly. And so another answer remains. This time, Ravus sets his hand over Ignis' tightly clasped ones. Gentle, not prying, but there and warm in the dark din of the firelight.
"Or perhaps, even more graciously, she gave it to you with hope. Hope that perhaps you could do what I could not, and subvert even gods."
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Ignis feels the bile on the back of his throat, and worst besides.
There is nothing merciful in the idea of showing him Noctis's death. Every single blasted second he has ever been with Noctis, he has been glad for such small things, even when it drove him half mad. What other life would he ever desire? To know he was safe after every battle, to see his smile at his favorite dish, to lay besides him as they took a rest after a long day of travel and battle and survival....
Ignis has never had to be reminded to treasure his days with Noctis. He felt it the first time they ever met, and Noctis held on tight to his hand with both of his own.
But with this vision, even just the thought of Noctis walking into that consuming dark all on his own because- because -
A power greater than even that of the six, purifying all by the Light of the crystal and the glaives of rulers past. The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the Darkness, but the blood price must be paid. To cast out the Usurper and usher in dawn's light will cost the life of the Chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all.
Beneath Ravus's gentle pressure, he can feel the way Ignis's hands tremble again - but not in fear this time. Now, the look in his eyes has gained not only focus but a focus, and, for all the greenery in his irises, his eyes burn harder than the flames they reflect.
"Then I hope she may forgive me," he murmurs, low tone already so set that it is clear he will push forward regardless of forgiveness, "but for my own selfishness, it is the latter that I will choose to believe."
Because no. No. He refuses to live a life of surrender, of letting Noctis simply slip from his fingertips, and those of all others who love him so dearly and even now rest in bed with him. How dare anyone to say otherwise, to believe they can take him away.
With the fear no longer so sharp and painful as it had been fresh from his awakening, clarity feels as though it returns to him. Clarity, and outrage.
What grand claims that blasted prophecy had made! For Noctis to be stronger than all of the Six - there is no doubt in Ignis's breast just how incredible his Noct is. And yet he can remember how desperate all of them were in Altissa - it was only yesterday for him. Not even that long. That arrogant, feckless, wretch of a snake -
Perhaps Ignis should hold more respect for the gods. He doesn't think he shall.
Power is not necessarily worthy of respect, after all, and if Noctis were truly more powerful than all of the Six combined... But no, it's in connection with something else as well, isn't it? The Crystal, and the ring... But why now? Why should he sacrifice his life? Did even a single one of the Six ponder why his life was worth both more and less than them trying with their own?
A memory stirs in his mind. It has been many years since he once sat down with Elidibus within the Hall of Rhetoric, explained a great deal about Insomnia and so much about the city. The Crystal. The Six.
Your Astrals are a curious group. Willing enough to involve themselves in the affairs of man as they deem it to be just, but not so much as to provide further succor to those who look to them for comfort. Of them all, if the Crystal indeed possesses a will of its own, it seems the most benevolent of them all.
Would it be a blaspheme of me to wish you and your world see a time that you are rid of them?
Back then, he had mentioned to Elidibus that the old tales claimed the Astrals bestowed the Crystal upon the Lucis lineage. What truly is stopping them from sweeping clean the Starscourge? What would hold them back from bringing back the dawn themselves?
A furious emotion, almost physical, burns in his throat again. Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all. Is that so? And yet it seems as though so much more have sacrificed themselves for the gods, who have yet to so much as grace them with anything but earthquakes and floods and a blasted temper tantrum. A disgraceful way to refer to the divine, perhaps, but he is far past the brink of caring. Still, if that is the way the gods deign to frame it -
So lost in his own head, the sound of the kettle whistling outright startles him, and Ignis blinks, pulled back into reality. He seems off-kilter, in fact, coming back into his own self awkwardly.
"Ah, my apologies," he murmurs, reaching forth with one hand to take it away from the flames. The heat licks at his skin, just enough to warn of pain. It helps, if one could believe it. Almost as much as Ravus's hand still laid over his own helps a bit. "Allow me to make you a cup. And... thank you for your words, Ravus." Ignis closes his eyes for just a brief moment, eyelashes resting along skin long since warmed with their proximity to the hearth, and his gaze focuses on his companion when he opens them again. "Perhaps you are not Lady Lunafreya, but there is a beautiful grace and kindness within you regardless."
Not to mention... "If we are to believe the gracious option, then perhaps your paths were more parallel than you would have known."
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Ignis gives him the answer he's wanted to hear from another soul all his life, and when his hand trembles, Ravus is quick to squeeze down in reassurance. Fury, as great as a blaze. Focus, as sharp as a blade.
"I won't take your apology," Ravus says, even when the kettle startles him too. His gaze darts to it briefly, then settle back on the way Ignis' hand moves. "I won't allow you to apologize for letting yourself blaze bright." Then, with a mild sort of sound that lets some of the tension ease off with the way his heart slows from its race, he adds. "They named you well."
Ravus leans forward to help, adding various herbs and leaves to the small sieves to pour the hot water over. He mixes them both for something soothing. As determined as Ignis is to defy fate, it's not happening tonight. They ought to rest at some point. He's watching the steam curl from the water when Ignis says there is something like Lunafreya in him too, and he pretends a small pop from the fire distracts him. It doesn't, and it doesn't keep his cheeks from flushing either. The deep glow of the fire might save him, but Ravus also doesn't turn his head away.
"She and I... we always wished for the same thing, deep down. A world free of our loved ones' suffering. The paths were one, yet the destination we could never agree on. The world she sought was without her. And the world I did simply couldn't exist that way. Because her happiness was my world." Ravus slowly shakes his head, and instead of just setting his hand over Ignis', he threads their fingers together.
"Though she may be gone, I would still walk the path. I would tread it beside you with the same fire I have always carried in my heart. If you let me, whatever we find here, whenever we go home, I would help you dismantle the entire sky, and tear the Astrals down from their lofty abode. I would help you save Noctis, and honor Lunafreya's love all the same."
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Finished making his pledge.
Ignis doesn't look up into Ravus's eyes. He has a suspicion he already knows what he'll see, because he knows exactly what kind of look he will find. What kind of man that Ravus Nox Fleuret is, at his core, because they burned hard and bright in near the exact same way through the floods of Altissa.
Instead, he looks down at their hands. The way he holds onto his hand, and how Ignis holds onto him right back, the flame's glow dancing over them both and revealing the stark difference between skin forced pale from Niflheim's darkness and that which has seen the sun through so much travel.
Ignis wonders if Ravus understands the depth of meaning behind his pledge. The feeling.
No. He doesn't. Ignis understands this much, now, as an adult who has had his 'first' encounter with Ravus now rather than a younger man with so many questions behind their meeting. Back then, he'd had to wonder about it, and if perhaps he was reading too much into the relationship between them both. Ravus had said they were friends, after all. In turn, Ignis had assumed back then that they had to be, because if the feelings were anything else, then surely he would have acted on them in some capacity or another, yes?
Silly, really. He should have just asked. Then he would have known the proper truth of it, that a pair of intense men simply had the sort of impact on one another despite the short amount of time that could only have happened because it was them.
But he'd been rather silly back then. So caught up in appearances, on the differences between him and everyone else - even Prompto had been older than him.
Yet now, with experience, and memories, he knows better.
He especially knows what it means for men like them to put anyone on even a similar path as those they have devoted themselves to. Ravus has admitted as much in this very conversation: Lady Lunafreya's happiness was everything to him. She was everything to him. Nothing will ever be able to replace her presence in his life.
Still that he would make space on that same path, extend his hand to Ignis to join him on such a treasure thing...
Ignis closes his eyes, and gently squeezes their fingers together. "Then I could ask for nothing greater or more worth treasuring," he says quietly, listening to the sound of Ravus make the tea. Perhaps, soon, he may ask for something, but, well. If they are here on this path together, it may hardly need to be asked for.
For now, he opens his eyes again, and gets back to helping what he can in regards to the tea. Even if it is rather trivial, such as putting the cups in place, he does what he can.
It is only as the water is being poured that he speaks again. "Since we are speaking of family, I have recalled something. Back when we had first arrived in this place, and you told me of your role in Insomnia, I inquired about someone... and I believe that put an undue burden on you, although I couldn't have known that at the time. You are the sort, I know, to bear such little moments in the back of your mind. I would like to relieve you of that. You needn't worry about my uncle. The attack wouldn't have affected him at all."
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No one can replace Lunafreya. As no one could replace the sun in his sky, or the earth beneath his feet. But he's not looking to. The world won't ever be the same for Ravus, but he's slowly coming to accept that it doesn't mean he can't love everything Lunafreya left behind. That there are people still worth fighting for, and beside. That those people will give him purpose. They will hold his hand in the dark of night, comforted by the glow of flames, and speak of precious treasures over tea at odd hours of the evening.
For all the stress of the day, Ravus finds himself at peace.
"Thank you," he says quietly above the curls of steam. It seems appropriate. Not everyone might find the intensity of a pledge from the very soul of a knight so worth treasuring quite as readily. Thankfully, Ignis inhabits himself. He must be used to intensity by now.
When Ignis mentions family, Ravus regards him with a curious, if somber, look. The kettle is set aside in favor of putting his focus back on Ignis. It's not something he thought would be unburdened from him, sure he'd simply carry the unknowable what ifs of the uncounted dead in Insomnia after the attack. No matter his subtle efforts to be much less the tyrant of his predecessor, there'd be no true and proper justice he could give. It's not an undue burden; Ravus doesn't think so, anyway. But he'll take the relief all the same, and nods.
"Aren't I meant to be consoling you?" Ravus murmurs, his voice on the very edge of something softer. Not quite teasing, but leaning into the irony of the situation. "Still," he goes on, "thank you for telling me. It is something I let weigh on me, as I let many things." The whole world, namely. But that's not the point.
"I'm full glad he did not have to see that carnage. I hope whatever prevented it was far more peaceful. Be him far away from the city, or gone before its destruction." Ravus carefully drains the sieves to set them aside with the kettle. He nudges Ignis' cup towards him with the backs of his metal claws.
"Lavender and chamomile, to ease a restless mind like yours. Ashwagandha root, in the hopes if those fail, it may guide the racing thoughts to at least slow or provide clarity, rather than anxiety. And rose hips for your health. I knew the bite of the salt-winds and rain that day would do nearly as much damage to our bodies as fighting our way across the city."
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Wrapping his hands around the welcome warmth of the tea, Ignis simply lets the heat sink into him and chase away more of the cold. Spring is around the corner. He can feel it. "As for if it were more peaceful... It is hard to say." It wasn't passing peacefully in one's sleep, after all, and Ignis can't imagine how it feels to die otherwise. Still... "But it was, at least, 'mundane'. And even back then, I suppose that was something to be thankful for."
It was not to the horrors of war. It was not under attack by a daemon. It was not seeing the things he loved and worked for stripped away.
His uncle got to die in a fully staffed hospital, having seen his nephew one last time, and with a proper funeral. Even if it turns out that Ignis may never return to Insomnia... At least he can rest knowing that his uncle rests there in turn. He will take that blessing if nothing else.
Finally he raises the cup to his lips, and drinks in a sip. Just a small one for now, with how hot it is. "You've truly learned well about herbs and other plants," he comments. Nothing said on the ache in his body that only became more pronounced the longer he's been home and which is no doubt part of what roused him from his own slumber. Just the act of falling from a destroyed bridge and all the bruises he gained from that would have been enough to leave him exhausted, bruised, and sore. Yet his insistence on taking on an army, grappling from building to building, being thrown from a boat - all of that has truly exhausted him. The terrible weather during it all has only exacerbated the issue. He may have to rely on whatever potions Noctis can provide, come morning, if he wants to keep going as he tends to.
"I suppose after this, I should dutifully return to bed, hm?" Another sip of tea, and he slides open his eyes to take a glance at Ravus. "Will you be joining me?"
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The other thing he's thankful for is Ignis actually drinking his tea. It's not just the compliment that makes Thul purr in the back of his mind. The old doctor sharing his thoughts gives the mental equivalent of an approving nod watching his patient drink his medicine.
"I will take credit for that, thank you," Thul rumbles over their shared link. Ravus doesn't acknowledge the old man directly, but does sigh softly aloud. Metal claws come up to tap the side of his temple with an exasperated little one-two beat.
"Careful now, you'll give the old blue an even more inflated ego than he's already got. I can't take a simple walk without the compulsory need to stuff every pocket to the brim with herbs and flowers he never shuts his mouth about."
Ravus lets Thul settle back down, and sits in the quiet beside Ignis. Takes a few sips of his own tea. The warmth that pools in his chest and belly is a soothing heat he relishes in. Spring can't come soon enough, no matter how much he's used to the bitter cold of winter. It doesn't mean he's ever liked it.
At the question, Ravus glances sideways, and catches the look from Ignis. He blinks owlishly. Well...
He'd like to. He would. He'd like it more than he thinks he can reasonably explain, but there's the matter of his, well, his everything that makes him unsure of these emotions that roil about in the sea of his heart. There's also the matter of his protective nature urging him to keep watch. There's a fine line between his love and his desire to serve. Rather, the two blend in ways he finds hard to separate.
"Would you like me too?" He asks, letting his soft gaze linger on the way Ignis' hands wrap around the warm cup. "My thought was that if anyone should keep watch, it would be wisest to leave it to me. But... I suppose I would wake to nearly any threat before it became an issue just as well."
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Simply... bothered, as a man stumbling out of being a teenager, for having something shoved onto him out of his control in such a way.
He's older, now. A little wiser, he likes to think. And it helps, as well, that Sveargith has been relatively quiet since he's come back to this world. Reassuring and such when he first came back, for all that he was bewildered at such swift changes that seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, but not too demanding on information. Not just yet. Ignis has the feeling that, like any good bartender, he's waiting for the right moment.
Ignis will let him choose that, when he can. He wants to know what's going on just as much as him, and if the dragon might know after a bit of questioning, then he has no objections. And even if not... It's better to be on the same page.
That can be for another day. For now, he simply takes in Ravus's owlish little stare and smiles a touch. "Why on earth would I object?" he asks. The hands that Ravus is watching rub their fingers gently along the cup. "Certainly if I cared to do so, I would have done it when Prompto and Noctis were both trying to cajole you into bed." Alright, saying they were cajoling Ravus is giving them a bit too much credit. Rather, they both just crawled into the bed and were making puppy dog eyes at Ravus in hopes that he would join them all.
Ignis and Gladio both didn't expect Ravus to accept the offer, ridiculously awkward man that he is... but Ignis does have to admit that perhaps they were both waiting and watching in hopes that he would.
Well. He won't address things between them just yet, but... "There is not a man in that bed whom you do not love, is there?" he presses, light tone a balance between casual and gentle. "Then I do not see why you should hold yourself back from sharing the bed with them and myself as we all rest. I do appreciate your consideration, Ravus... but it is a duty that all of us are doing in one way or another. I promise that Gladio, Prompto, and myself are all prepared for it."
A slight shift in his position, and Ignis leans just a little closer to Ravus. "You need not do your duty alone," he murmurs to him, finger circling the rim of his cup. "And you may find some rest alongside us, always."
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But he doesn't dwell there. Not when Ignis leans near, and Ravus can't help but mirror him. Until he's brushed against him, and it's hardly the fire that warms him now. Why would Ignis object, indeed? When... When this feels so comfortable, when it could feel better. With all of them. Or rather, it's an if. Ravus assumes very little is for his benefit or something he is allowed to benefit from, even now. So he has to ask, and has to call Ignis on such statements. He's all too aware that the other man is far more clever than he, but Ravus is not going to let such things slide when he does catch them.
“You're right, of course. But you do realize you were in that bed too, do you not? I should not deny something so precious as love, and, in truth, I am finding that shouldering everything myself is far more lonesome than I can ever recall. Perhaps I am growing soft.” Ravus shakes his head, more aware now than he ever used to be that it's not something so easy as just slacking. There's a complicated web of emotions to tangle himself with these days, and one such thread he tugs at now.
“Regardless of cause, I should like you to rest, as I know very well the day you have had.” He lived it too, after all. But more importantly, “I would like to do so as well, with those that I love. Yourself included.”
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Instead, the blasted man goes and confesses to him.
For just a brief second, at the mention of him being in thee bed as well, Ignis wonders if Ravus properly understands what he's saying. Of course he goes on to prove that he very well does. Just as much as he surely knows what he's doing, leaning against Ignis's shoulder in turn like this. Ignis had known for a long time that Ravus possesses the heart of a romantic underneath all the ice that Niflheim had forced upon him... and he shows it off with aplomb with such sweet words. It's enough to make him stare, truly.
...A stare which promptly becomes somewhat playfully exasperated.
"Ravus, I would have liked to answer a confession with a full night's rest," he comments, even as he properly puts more of his weight against the other man's shoulder. "And perhaps while I was dressed just a touch more appropriately. Really, I may have you give you a proper demonstration of how to confess, and all the proper steps. A good first date. And I'd hoped to sleep tonight, rather than think on such things"
But he's laying his had against Ravus's shoulder, so he really doesn't sound upset at all.
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“A thousand pardons, dear Ignis,” he says, breathing out an amused sound, “as I am not so well-versed in the art. Clearly, I need an expert teacher to show me quite how it’s done. Though this also means you’ll have to permit me a second chance after I’ve had my lessons.”
The teasing aside, Ravus doesn’t regret it. Besides that, he’s had a feeling Ignis has known far longer than Ravus himself has. He’ll say as much after he tilts his head enough to feel the soft brush of Ignis’ hair against his cheek. It’d be a hard won fight not to fall asleep just like that, melted against him in the light of the fire, his heart near-full to bursting.
“You knew already though, I’m sure. Everyone else certainly saw through me as if I were no more opaque than glass. So while I apologize for plaguing your sleep further, try not to dwell on old news. I… I simply couldn’t keep holding onto it, not after you vanished like that.”
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Of course, the youth he was back then had no idea just how they truly met. It was a thing he wondered about quite a bit, honestly. If not for his pride, perhaps he would have asked at some point.
Well, now he's got a bit better than merely asking. Now he's lived through it himself, and seen even a touch into the future. Ignis knows exactly why this never went anywhere.
Why it might not ever, if he can't change their future.
Speaking of the future... He settles back against Ravus, staring into the flames. "...I wish I hadn't caused you all such distress. Hardly do I know just what made it pull me in particular, especially after all that time." This time may be more appropriate, considering the disparity in it between his perception and theirs, but... It doesn't really matter he supposes. "Still, I am here now. And hopefully, my luck is not so atrocious that whatever happened strikes twice."
They've already lost a few achingly familiar faces here, at least for their lot if not Ravus. His Majesty, and Cor following dutifully right after... They all miss those faces. He doesn't want to add to the number.
"We should finish our tea, and head back to bed. We will have to work to put you in properly, after all, lest the bed become unbalanced and break under the combined weight of you and Gladio both." No bed was made for the weight of those combined tits-
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“Well, said honest man could only provide what he knew. And given you were the first friend I’d had since I was a child, I was a touch ignorant to the way friendship might feel.” Someone, multiple someones, had to explain his own feelings to him, after all.
Ignis settles back against him, and Ravus relaxes with him. Despite that, he speaks of the uncertain phenomena, and Ravus senses the undercurrent of more there. He knows why, of course. Knows the future is a daunting, doomed outlook that they both know he’ll fight tooth and nail. But Ravus doesn’t press the subject. They’ve time enough to talk about it on a less eventful day. As long as Ignis’ gamble on his luck holds true, anyway.
“I find it hard to believe it was something you chose to do. And perhaps there’s no knowing exactly why the timing was so particular. But as you said, you’re here now, and that is what matters.” Ravus brings up his prosthetic arm, unfurling the claws as the bright blue bloom of a sylleblossom unwinds from between the digits.
“They come in many colors, you know. The vivid blue was meant to represent perseverance, an undying love and loyalty found in so many stories of Tenebraen knights and Oracles. A heart, unwilling to yield.” He then sheers the stem by hooking a claw, and offers the flower to Ignis. “So let an honest man be honest, and give you something more in accordance with my feelings. In proper Tenebraen tradition, this is my promise to you. You have me, whatever the future holds.”
With a vow properly made and sealed with a memento, Ravus carefully shifts his other arm out from beneath Ignis without too much jostling. He wraps it around the other’s shoulders to give a gentle squeeze before he takes up his cup of tea between metal talons to drink a good bit more of it.
“Provided, of course, that I do not break the bed and perish of embarrassment.” It's unfortunately quite possible.
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To see the proper living thing is a wholly different experience. All the moreso in this sort of lighting, where it seems so strangely ethereal in coordination with the flames.
And it is that beautiful ethereal thing that Ravus plucks from its stem, offered to him so simply with the purest of vows attached.
Ignis takes it as gently as he can, fingers brushing along Ravus's metal ones, and looks at it. At the way the shadows slide along its delicate petals, turns it to see every little bit of it. Then, he presses it to his lips, for but a moment.
"...What a terribly adept Prince Charming you are, once you've been given a second chance," he murmurs, before delicately placing the blossom to the side where it wont fall to the floor or be carelessly crushed. "And you needn't worry about breaking the bed. Gladio has it quite reinforced. The more pressing matter is all of us with our weight to one side, and flipping the silly thing up and over our heads. I will organize it well enough." But for that, he finishes his tea first, before rising to his feet. He won't bother to clean it out right now, simply first thing in the morning. That doesn't mean it won't be put away properly.
"I shan't let you fall to something as silly as that, Ravus."
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More so, he almost wishes he could feel through the wispy edges of that flower as Ignis brings it to his lips. His face heats as if he's the one pressed there, and Ravus feels his gaze turn away sheepishly.
"Yes, well," he starts, clearing his throat to hopefully bring some measure of surity to it. If it works, he can't tell, the buzz of his feelings in his hot blood distracting him. "I hate to squander something precious, let alone squander it twice."
Prince Charming... That's not the first time he's been called that. He's starting to wonder if it's more than culture shock and idle flattering.
When Ignis stands, Ravus follows him, and takes his cup. They're taken to the sink basin to be washed later, and he's quickly back at the other's side. He presses comfortably close, not quite leaning, but near enough like a loyal dog happy to be in contact with his person.
"I appreciate that. It wouldn't do to go out just as I've made such a promise. Unbecoming of a knight, really, to shirk duty for something as trivial as death by collapsing bedframe." He shrugs the opposite shoulder, and then glances toward the bedroom. "I'll leave the coordinating to you. I wouldn't rightly know where to even begin."
How does one arrange five full-grown adults into a single bed? And more than just that, where does the hierarchy come into play? The very idea is enough to make him uncomfortable with his doubts, but he will follow Ignis and his lead without complaint.
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It almost reminds Ignis of staying back in the cape. Of the peace that could only be brought about far away from busy streets, from cities. The main difference, really, is the lack of sea salt sunk into everything, or the reassuring passing light of the tower above them.
Once they are back in the room, door shut carefully behind them, Ignis sweeps his gaze over Ravus. "Well," he murmurs, voice so low as to not wake his lovers. "First things first. You shan't go to sleep while so heavily dress, Ravus. The arm alone shall add considerable weight to the bed. Disrobe to the bare essentials, and we shall maneuver you appropriately." A wry little smile crosses his lips.
"Rather uncouth of me to bed you before I have properly taken you on a date or gone through proper courtship, but I suppose this is the situation we find ourselves in."
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“I might consider all of this the bare essentials, you know,” he murmurs, except he’s already shrugging out of his coat. On a base level, he has no real attachment to his body, or how it’s seen by most. Really, it’s only when someone he has vested interest in makes comments like that, Ignis, that he ends up hesitating about undoing his belts. But they, and his pants, are heavy leather. So with a sigh, he slips out of them, too. Naturally, he wears modest underwear, so he’s not entirely nude, and toes off his boots as well. Thankfully, he’s also opted not to don the usually heavy plates of armor on his magitek prosthetic ever since his fae pact. The vines and flowers that sprout from every nook seem to appreciate the freedom to bloom as they please without them.
“Terribly ill-mannered of you,” he says in faux agreement, distracting himself from the thought of dates and courting, and maybe even one day baring himself to Ignis with intent instead of just sleeping arrangements. Thoughts he thoroughly attempts to fold away the same way he folds his coat and trousers, and sets them neatly aside. “But I suppose the circumstances make for exceptions.”
That said, he turns back to Ignis, awash in slivers of silvery light, his bulky body exposed save for his briefs, and a thin, low-cut shirt that does little to hide anything (least of all his tits), and is only meant to keep buckles and clasps from pinching his torso. Ravus makes a helpless gesture with his arms at his sides, and tries not to let the heat on his face bother him.
“As you like then?”
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But he will allow some measure of dignity for the other man. And, more importantly, there is a bed full of those he loves and must attend to.
He thinks Gladio still might be a touch awake, from when Ignis first left the bed, but he doesn't call his love out on it. Just leans over him, fingers gentle upon his shoulder and lips to his hair. Signs that he is still here, that he hasn't disappeared again. Even if Gladio had heard their steps downstairs, listened to whatever murmur of conversation still managed to leak up from the ceiling into the floorboards above... Ignis still wants him to know. He's not going anywhere.
Prompto and Noctis are a touch more entangled in sleep, and each other- perhaps the latter part especially helping in keeping them in the former. Ignis doesn't dare touch them too much, right off the bat, instead simply stroking Prompto's arm with a ghost of a touch as he looks over the space available.
It's not a lot, really. Frankly speaking, four men alone is really pushing it for a bed like this. Forget a bigger bed; they might need a bigger room flat out if they ever want to do this sort of thing more in the future. Still...
Well. He is a rather determined man, when it all comes down to it. With him making the invitation to Ravus, he'll make it happen.
Once the sound of cloth rustline and drawstrings ceases, Ignis finally looks back over to Ravus. Truly, in the lines of moonlight that fall through the window, he does make quite a divine sight, and Ignis smiles teasingly. "I quite like, yes, thank you." Straightening up from where he's been trying to adjust his boys, Ignis nods to the bed. Best not to dwell too long on the sinful curves Ravus has been gifted with; he's already embarrassed enough as it is.
"In order to make this arrangement work, I may need you to act as a bit of a cushion. Do you think that will work for you?"
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Theoretical existences aside, Ravus simply waits to be instructed, fondly watching the way Ignis so gently interacts with his mates. There's a softness to his gaze that he turns to Ignis when he's addressed. He's quiet a beat, before realizing he ought to answer properly. So to the question, he nods once, and then flicks his gaze to Noctis.
"Noctis has already taken to using me as one often enough. I do not mind." Said, for someone who simply doesn't mind, awfully fond. Equally fond, he continues as he shifts his gaze to the scrappy blond tangled with him. "Just as well, Prompto tends to clamber onto me at any opportunity. It will not be terribly different, I imagine."
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That will help make this a touch easier. But just a touch, considering the practicalities.
"Then over here - lay down as I move the boys." It is a bit of a handful, really, pulling Noctis close so that he is a bit more on top of Gladio, and then just physically lifting Prompto in turn... But there it is, a bit of room there on the bed on the other side. "Lay down quick, so I can get them onto you."
Which will indeed make Ravus an oversized body pillow, with two men cuddling up on him in different ways, but Ignis has to worry about how he will wiggle into place with Gladio, thank you.
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Running his real fingers through Noctis' hair at the nape of his neck, and his metal claws through Prompto's, Ravus feels a great warmth in his heart that bays any chill from the fading winter night. The panic of the day having been subsumed by the soft closeness of the people around him. It's... nice. Nicer than he ever really imagined it might be.
There will be enough uncertainty and hardship for the future, of that, Ravus has never doubted. But for now, he's quite content to watch Ignis wiggle himself into place with Gladio. Once he does, Ravus pauses his petting long enough to gently brush the back of his knuckles first against Gladio's shoulder, and then Ignis', as a quiet bid of goodnight, and unspoken thank you for letting him share this.