Castles they may crumble

[berriedmemories]

WHO:XV Cast
WHAT: General catchall
WHERE: Probably mostly at the XV cottage
WHEN: spring/summer 2025
WARNINGS: blanket CW for depression (Noctis), suicidal ideation (Ardyn, Cor, Ravus), and general PTSD from a bunch of men that've been through hell. See subject lines for specifics

Comments

[swordlily]

"You might've," Gladio murmurs, in the understatement of the century. He rests his head against Iggy's, just breathing in the scent of him. One nice thing about their dragon transformations - his senses seem to be a lot sharper. There's so many subtleties to the smell of Ignis he never got to fully appreciate before. "Not like you had any say in the matter, though, so don't start apologizing for it."

He rubs his thumbs along Iggy's wrists. "As for the shakes - doesn't matter why you have them. What matters is you're pushing yourself too much. You haven't even settled down to breathe since you got back...or the adrenaline would have worn off."

[threevirtues]

If Gladio can outright catch him like this, well. It's a very hard thing to deny even if Ignis would rather like to. The fingers in his more free hand flex out, and curl back in, just trying to move out some of the energy still rattling anxiously through him.

"If I settle down, I don't think I'll quite wake up," he admits quietly, turning his head to return the soft nuzzling he's being given. Just having the weight of Gladio back with him is reassuring, and every other little detail only adds to the blanket over his heart. A feeling of ease. Different from the pure numbing relief of having Noctis in his grasp, of knowing he was safe and alive and well, but...

Important, still, in a different way.

"It's just as when we finally pulled ourselves out from the depths of Costlemark. I can still do this much." Even if he'd go through Costlemark a million times and more, if to never have Noctis in that kind of situation ever again.

[swordlily]

"Wake up from what?" Gladio's hands are a firm, steady hold, not quite restricting but not really allowing Iggy to continue messing around with knives while his hands shake, either. Enforcing a measure of stillness, a pause. "Scared this is a dream that's gonna vanish? Or worried that you'll sink too deep into it?"

His breath is slow and warm against Ignis' ear. There's a feeling that Gladio is somehow trying to pass his own steadiness into Iggy to stabilize him - through his touch, through his breathing, through his presence. Trying to get Iggy to harmonize his body with Gladio's, wordlessly. "You pushed yourself too hard after Costlemark, too, not that anyone's counting. But that wasn't as bad." Costlemark had been a whole ordeal, sure, but that had just been tiring. This...this is Iggy rattled down to his bones. No mere gauntlet could do that.

[threevirtues]

As much as the breath curling around his ear, Ignis feels it almost just as much at his spine. The patient pattern of inhale and exhale, deep and slow. Tactile. "It wasn't," he agrees quietly. It was a grueling descent, with difficult creatures in a crumbling ruin that only ever seemed to get darker, complete with obscure puzzles that took some luck to solve...

But they were all still together, in the end.

And he always thought that they could keep each other safe from all else.

The weight of the prophecy weighs at the back of his neck again, something unbearable and asphyxiating. Only Gladio's presence there against him, solid as a rock, keeps it from getting any worse, and Ignis finally relents in setting the knife down on the counter. "Perhaps it's both," he admits softly, the truth coming out easier for him than it would have in a time that is both only the other day and also many years ago. "If you won't let me chop things like this... Can I at least have my hand free for something else I would like to try?"

[swordlily]

Gladio hums an acknowledgment to Iggy's words, leaning his head against Iggy's. The calm he's trying to impart is settling over him, too, but then of course it has to; if he wasn't actually feeling calm himself, he could hardly hope to pass that on to Iggy. But given what he's been stressing over today...having Iggy in his arms is all he needs to banish his fears.

Iggy is dealing with...a whole different source of stress. One that weighs on Gladio, too, but Gladio's had years to reconcile with it to some degree. (And, between here and Amani, years to hope that perhaps they're free of that damn prophecy, somehow.)

At the request, Gladio's eyebrows raise, but his grip also loosens. "Might depend on what it is, but if you're not pushing yourself..."

[threevirtues]

"Well, we will see if it pushes me or not." After all, Ignis has no idea himself. That's why it's him simply trying. Still, making sure the knife is set down, Ignis closes his eyes and leans fully back into Gladio's embrace. He recalls many afternoons, on his own, in this same kitchen, as a teenager and listening to another presence inside of him.

A breath, a gesture, and words in a language that Gladio may not know but may ping Lawrence.

From Ignis's point of view, it's been years now since he struggled to learn magic from Sveargith in this kitchen. Ever since the idea had come to him and the bartender had idly mentioned what he could do in his tavern, he'd been determined to get a knack for it. Why wouldn't he? In matters both practical and professional, it had just seemed like the right choice. An ability that could fix torn clothing on the fly, or something which could help protect those he loves... Why would he try anything else but to learn it if he could? Sveargith had certainly thought it could be possible, although he'd advised on learning small things first.

So they'd gone with a small thing to practice. Magic in this place varies spell to spell, apparently, with people dedicating much of their life to it. He'd been warned about that. Yet, as a youth, a part of him had been just a touch impatient. Been quietly frustrated as much as he was stubborn that he was clearly doing the gestures perfectly, speaking with the right words, and yet nothing.

Ignis quietly but clearly speaks the words. His fingers trace through the air.

And something finally pulls itself into physical reality.

Opening his eyes comes with some of Sveargith's commentary. Oh, that's an interesting choice. I normally made mine white. That seems to track, from what he knows of the dragon's preferred color. But not Ignis.

Instead, what flickers into existence there at the counter is a shimmering hand of burning bright blue.

Completely detached, of course, like someone's practice hand brought to life, but moves just as fluidly as Ignis's own where it picks up the knife he'd left there on the counter. Gets right to work chopping the vegetables, with none of his own jitters.

Which is quite handy, really.

Ignis lets out a breath, folding his arms over Gladio's. "It only took years to do that spell," he comments idly. Just a very dumb joke. A part of him is fairly certain that it's not time in his case that has anything to do with why he can now access reserves of magic inside of himself.

[swordlily]

"Years for who?" Gladio asks, watching the magic hand with open fascination. Leave it to Ignis to find a way to work without working, of course...but by that comment, he suspects Sveargith has a considerable amount to do with it, too. His first kneejerk thought - perhaps excused by his preoccupation with the results of the spell - is that perhaps it took Sveargith years to learn the spell, and that's what Iggy is referring to.

[threevirtues]

"Myself, of course." Not that Ignis can blame him for being a little bit off-balance on something like this. Even as the person who cast the spell, Ignis can't help staring as the hand moves deftly. Just like his own. Having it described to him by Sveargith is a far cry from seeing it in action.

"It is... a very strange thing," he admits quietly. "Remembering this place, as though a dream, from my youth... and then coming back. And not a soul has been changed, physically speaking."

Disorienting is puttig it lightly.