Nyx Ulric (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hardbargain) wrote2018-11-08 08:23 pm
hardbargain) wrote2018-11-08 08:23 pm
Just stay. I've got you.
[Curatives the royal specialty, magic poured into drinks and bottles for the one kind of healing they can do.
Izunia kneels, all the sparkling bits of armor jangling, and sets to work - bring down the bleeding, up the blood he has left, potion, potion, elixir, ether.
He hasn't made any move to change back to his flesh form, for the moment. He'll have to to straighten the bones in the leg, but the gunshot wounds are worse.]
[Curatives the royal specialty, magic poured into drinks and bottles for the one kind of healing they can do.
Izunia kneels, all the sparkling bits of armor jangling, and sets to work - bring down the bleeding, up the blood he has left, potion, potion, elixir, ether.
He hasn't made any move to change back to his flesh form, for the moment. He'll have to to straighten the bones in the leg, but the gunshot wounds are worse.]
[Curatives weren't something the Glaives had much access to. Unlike Noctis' close knit Glaive the full breadth of the Kingsglaive has plenty of access to the magic but the armiger? No, that was reserved for the King's close companions.
Regis was already stretched so thin. Asking him to mass produce curatives to keep up with the entire Glaive was asking far too much of him.
It's odd, being treated like this by a massive suit of armor but it's hard to focus through the pain that he's been forcing down for so long now. How many hours? How many injuries?
He drinks, realizes that it could just as easily be poison but if the man wanted him dead he'd only have had to wait.]
Why save me... it was you who demanded my life.
Regis was already stretched so thin. Asking him to mass produce curatives to keep up with the entire Glaive was asking far too much of him.
It's odd, being treated like this by a massive suit of armor but it's hard to focus through the pain that he's been forcing down for so long now. How many hours? How many injuries?
He drinks, realizes that it could just as easily be poison but if the man wanted him dead he'd only have had to wait.]
Why save me... it was you who demanded my life.
[In many ways, the day never draws to an end for Regis. Even as he returns to his quarters alone--this being one of those rare nights where he's convinced Clarus it's not necessary to see him to the door--his mind is still going over the files and reports they were reviewing before parting ways. Foremost in his mind is a list of names. The latest casualties from the front. Those whose families he will need to see letters to; those who have no families and they will need to speak with their fellows to find out who might stand as next of kin. For how the list grows so fast now, he never forgets one. He can't.
His stride falters a moment, leg aching after day that has been too long. Regis wishes there was a way he could be out there with them instead of stuck here, but he also knows he would be no help. His body is not what it once was years ago. Some days it's a struggle to get from one end of the Citadel to the other, though he does all he can to hide that. He needs to look strong for his country and people.
For Noctis as well, even though he sees his son so rarely anymore.
Despite all that is on his mind, when Regis nears the balcony, he instinctively senses the presence there. His reaction would be stronger if he didn't also feel the pull on his magic. His visitor is not an enemy lurking where no one should be, but one of his trusted Kingsglaive.
One specific Glaivesman, actually, and the realization draws an amused smile to his lips before he lets his face settle back into a mask of regal seriousness.
His footsteps come to a halt several paces back from the open balcony, and as they do, Regis can almost hear Clarus' voice speaking a warning in his head. He may be within the heavily guarded Citadel, but his guards are still human and humans make mistakes.
Honestly, the warnings get old sometimes, but he has a country and a people to think of. He can't take risks, even if they are small ones.]
Did I miss the memo warning of a threat made against my balcony, Glaive Ulric? For surely, there is no other reason for you to be lingering here when your own bed must be calling.
His stride falters a moment, leg aching after day that has been too long. Regis wishes there was a way he could be out there with them instead of stuck here, but he also knows he would be no help. His body is not what it once was years ago. Some days it's a struggle to get from one end of the Citadel to the other, though he does all he can to hide that. He needs to look strong for his country and people.
For Noctis as well, even though he sees his son so rarely anymore.
Despite all that is on his mind, when Regis nears the balcony, he instinctively senses the presence there. His reaction would be stronger if he didn't also feel the pull on his magic. His visitor is not an enemy lurking where no one should be, but one of his trusted Kingsglaive.
One specific Glaivesman, actually, and the realization draws an amused smile to his lips before he lets his face settle back into a mask of regal seriousness.
His footsteps come to a halt several paces back from the open balcony, and as they do, Regis can almost hear Clarus' voice speaking a warning in his head. He may be within the heavily guarded Citadel, but his guards are still human and humans make mistakes.
Honestly, the warnings get old sometimes, but he has a country and a people to think of. He can't take risks, even if they are small ones.]
Did I miss the memo warning of a threat made against my balcony, Glaive Ulric? For surely, there is no other reason for you to be lingering here when your own bed must be calling.
Enough.
[Ardyn answered sharply, yellow eyes bearing something hard and cold and perhaps too ageless to be entirely human.]
I will accept responsibility for all that I've done. If you seek someone to blame for Diamond Weapon, for the grander movements which ended in the capital's fall, look no further. But I will not grovel at your feet and be accused of that which I had no hand in. The architect of the Glaives' rebellion was he who you have already dealt with yourself, Nyx Ulric, not me. Glauca was the one who fostered the faint unrest in your ranks, that was not my concern.
[Ardyn answered sharply, yellow eyes bearing something hard and cold and perhaps too ageless to be entirely human.]
I will accept responsibility for all that I've done. If you seek someone to blame for Diamond Weapon, for the grander movements which ended in the capital's fall, look no further. But I will not grovel at your feet and be accused of that which I had no hand in. The architect of the Glaives' rebellion was he who you have already dealt with yourself, Nyx Ulric, not me. Glauca was the one who fostered the faint unrest in your ranks, that was not my concern.
Edited 2018-11-09 13:02 (UTC)
The magic of our blood always demands a price. From us as well - our lives are short and burn bright, as you well know. Regis might have gotten another two or three years, but not much more, after maintaining that Wall so long.
It consumes our life energy. And for one not of the bloodline to fuel the Old Wall... You would have died anyway.
[He still might. But at least if his life force doesn't recover enough, with the potions Izunia is packing into him, it won't be in pain, and it won't be alone.
Verity bonks into Nyx's good leg.]
We're used to the stress and have a bigger well of magical energy. For you, it's as much the shock as anything. Same way a gunshot can kill even if it misses anything vital.
[His tone is still cold and detached as he pushes another ether into Nyx's lap to get chugged after the first, but then it warms almost imperceptibly.]
And this is the part where things get stupid for a moment. Just... repeat to yourself that magic is bullshit and bear with me.
It consumes our life energy. And for one not of the bloodline to fuel the Old Wall... You would have died anyway.
[He still might. But at least if his life force doesn't recover enough, with the potions Izunia is packing into him, it won't be in pain, and it won't be alone.
Verity bonks into Nyx's good leg.]
We're used to the stress and have a bigger well of magical energy. For you, it's as much the shock as anything. Same way a gunshot can kill even if it misses anything vital.
[His tone is still cold and detached as he pushes another ether into Nyx's lap to get chugged after the first, but then it warms almost imperceptibly.]
And this is the part where things get stupid for a moment. Just... repeat to yourself that magic is bullshit and bear with me.
[Those footsteps come to a halt and Nyx smiles to himself, imagines the look on the King's face. Confusion, amusement, weary caution. Then Regis speaks and Nyx rolls his eyes before he rolls smoothly to his feet, motion easy and practiced, as though he's accustomed to lounging like he himself is royalty.
Two steps into the open doorway, moonlight framing him, uniform jacket discarded, down to leather pants and foil printed tee as he moves back a few more steps, arms spread behind him, gripping the railing of the balcony, the night breeze sending his braids skittering over his shoulders.]
Not at all, Majesty.
[Light, playful, the grin evident in his voice even if the dramatic back lighting casts most of his face in shadows.]
Your balcony's quite safe, the threat is to you, yourself, sir.
[Words he knows damn well will put Regis on edge so he raises one hand, a halting gesture, something to quiet the questions or protests.]
Because I'm pretty sure if you don't come out here and appreciate the view of your city and this gorgeous night that stick up your ass is going to become fatal. Such a shame, already claimed your Shield, what about you?
[A laugh, a nod, holding his hand out in offering.]
Don't tell me you've lost all your spirit....
..... sir.
[Just challenging enough that he desperately hopes Regis will have to take him up on it. A calculated risk, he can tell himself that but he knows damn well the calculations ended at getting here, not whatever his stupid mouth came up with.]
Two steps into the open doorway, moonlight framing him, uniform jacket discarded, down to leather pants and foil printed tee as he moves back a few more steps, arms spread behind him, gripping the railing of the balcony, the night breeze sending his braids skittering over his shoulders.]
Not at all, Majesty.
[Light, playful, the grin evident in his voice even if the dramatic back lighting casts most of his face in shadows.]
Your balcony's quite safe, the threat is to you, yourself, sir.
[Words he knows damn well will put Regis on edge so he raises one hand, a halting gesture, something to quiet the questions or protests.]
Because I'm pretty sure if you don't come out here and appreciate the view of your city and this gorgeous night that stick up your ass is going to become fatal. Such a shame, already claimed your Shield, what about you?
[A laugh, a nod, holding his hand out in offering.]
Don't tell me you've lost all your spirit....
..... sir.
[Just challenging enough that he desperately hopes Regis will have to take him up on it. A calculated risk, he can tell himself that but he knows damn well the calculations ended at getting here, not whatever his stupid mouth came up with.]
And I'm sure you had nothing to do with poisoning him into thinking that working with the Niffs was the only way to get Galahd back.
[Izunia had told him something of what Ardyn really is, and being here face to face with him it's hard to deny... but it's hardly enough to cow someone like Nyx.]
You're the one who strolled into Insomnia and set up the peace treaty, made sure the King would be right where you wanted him so you could make sure-
[He can't even say it. His expression twists into something dark and vicious, as much pain as it is rage. Glauca... Drautos had slain his own king. And who had given him that power?
He is going to punch his fucking lights out... but he wants answers first, he wants to know what's going on before he knocks him out cold. So he does the next best thing. One strained breath, hissed in through clenched teeth.
And then he's hawking the biggest, slimiest ball of spit he can muster in Ardyn's face.]
[Izunia had told him something of what Ardyn really is, and being here face to face with him it's hard to deny... but it's hardly enough to cow someone like Nyx.]
You're the one who strolled into Insomnia and set up the peace treaty, made sure the King would be right where you wanted him so you could make sure-
[He can't even say it. His expression twists into something dark and vicious, as much pain as it is rage. Glauca... Drautos had slain his own king. And who had given him that power?
He is going to punch his fucking lights out... but he wants answers first, he wants to know what's going on before he knocks him out cold. So he does the next best thing. One strained breath, hissed in through clenched teeth.
And then he's hawking the biggest, slimiest ball of spit he can muster in Ardyn's face.]
[He wants to snarl that he knows exactly the price of the magic. Yank down his collar and show him the ragged spiderweb of scarring across his chest that grows with each battle. To tell him of the ashy lines that crawled away from Crowe's eyes, scars they all bore, mages dropping dead mid-spell because there just wasn't enough left in them to feed the magic any more.]
It kills a hell of a lot slower than a gunshot.
[Says the man who is currently dying because of one.
Well, two.
Fuck it hurts. Drinking is painful too, putting anything more in his ravaged belly is excruciating but he guzzles down potion after ether, everything Izunia gives him until he's worried he might actually throw up, pain dulling and his head swimming from the blood loss but his stomach churning angrily. Maybe he should just warp and be done with it. Let it come up if it wants to, let him die if that's what his body really wants.
The subtle shift in his tone is lost on Nyx, a testament to just how bad off he is. But the phrasing is more casual and that alone makes him smirk, amused and completely out of fucks to give.]
Magic is definitely bullshit.
It kills a hell of a lot slower than a gunshot.
[Says the man who is currently dying because of one.
Well, two.
Fuck it hurts. Drinking is painful too, putting anything more in his ravaged belly is excruciating but he guzzles down potion after ether, everything Izunia gives him until he's worried he might actually throw up, pain dulling and his head swimming from the blood loss but his stomach churning angrily. Maybe he should just warp and be done with it. Let it come up if it wants to, let him die if that's what his body really wants.
The subtle shift in his tone is lost on Nyx, a testament to just how bad off he is. But the phrasing is more casual and that alone makes him smirk, amused and completely out of fucks to give.]
Magic is definitely bullshit.
I didn't give a shit about Aldercapt's war. That treaty and my hand in it is the only thing that kept Noctis alive, and-
[He phased out of the way of that, because really.]
-and while I hardly claim myself blameless in all of it, what you hold grudge over is far less my fault than you think.
[He phased out of the way of that, because really.]
-and while I hardly claim myself blameless in all of it, what you hold grudge over is far less my fault than you think.
Yes, well, I need flesh hands to set the bone. Metal is not the most tactile material in the world.
[The tone is still... toneless, but he lifts a giant metal hand to waggle his fingers a little in a way that so deeply contrasts with the dignity of the line of kings.
If Nyx can find the humor in it, well, he'll probably live. Especially once the medical staff, the people qualified for more than triage, can get to him.]
But you're past bleeding out in the next ten minutes with all those curatives in you, so just... Bear with me.
[And then - for a moment, it's like the great suit of armor sucks in a deep breath before everything flickers. And then it's Izunia sitting on the ground again, human again from the waist up, but the waist down is...
Well. Nyx is going to have a very different opinion of octopus for a while after this.
Explanations will have to wait, though, because as soon as he's flesh and blood again - the panic comes crashing down on Izunia and leaves him breathing heavily into his hands, the drawn-out shakes of someone fighting off a panic attack. Knowing it was coming is why he got Nyx into best condition he could before changing forms, but that doesn't make the sudden rush of emotion any easier to handle. At least he knows that Nyx has seen combat shock before, the people who can keep going while there's still an enemy to fight and then become near-catatonic afterwards, and that his own signs are obvious.
Bear with him, indeed.]
[The tone is still... toneless, but he lifts a giant metal hand to waggle his fingers a little in a way that so deeply contrasts with the dignity of the line of kings.
If Nyx can find the humor in it, well, he'll probably live. Especially once the medical staff, the people qualified for more than triage, can get to him.]
But you're past bleeding out in the next ten minutes with all those curatives in you, so just... Bear with me.
[And then - for a moment, it's like the great suit of armor sucks in a deep breath before everything flickers. And then it's Izunia sitting on the ground again, human again from the waist up, but the waist down is...
Well. Nyx is going to have a very different opinion of octopus for a while after this.
Explanations will have to wait, though, because as soon as he's flesh and blood again - the panic comes crashing down on Izunia and leaves him breathing heavily into his hands, the drawn-out shakes of someone fighting off a panic attack. Knowing it was coming is why he got Nyx into best condition he could before changing forms, but that doesn't make the sudden rush of emotion any easier to handle. At least he knows that Nyx has seen combat shock before, the people who can keep going while there's still an enemy to fight and then become near-catatonic afterwards, and that his own signs are obvious.
Bear with him, indeed.]
[As chamberlain and right hand to Prince Noctis, it was expected of Ignis to learn how to fight to defend his liege. As all would give their swords and, so be it, their lives for the King, so too would he for the Prince.
His skills had not come overnight, despite his aptitude for magic and for more dexterous weapons. Years of hard work went into being the man he would become alongside Noctis. And he took his training every bit as seriously as anything else he learned, pouring heart and soul and sweat and blood into it.
Crownsguard training had gone without much incident, graduating with flying colors at a young age. But the Kingsglaive was another class altogether, an elite military force, the King's most trusted. Between his own studies and Noct's, Ignis currently finds himself wondering if what he's learned is enough, if he should back out now before he's in over his head. Hotheaded Gladiolus certainly has the skill of fighting well in hand, after all. What need has he to prove himself any further?
And yet, he persists, determined. It helps to have a skillful mentor to guide him, although given some of the snickering the other Glaives do behind his back where they think he can't hear, maybe 'guide' isn't the best term. The Hero, as Nyx Ulric is called, sometimes in awe, sometimes in jest, but his skills speak for themselves. Reckless, certainly, but every bit deserving of being a ranking member of the Kingsglaive.
Ignis sits in his fatigues, focused, concentrating, sharpening a dagger. He's been finding that while polearms are excellent for reach, for fancy footwork on the ground and in the air, daggers and small blades give that fine edge of finesse, tighter control. And as is true in the kitchen, it's true on the battlefield--a dull knife is far harder and more dangerous for the user to work with than a finely honed and clean edge.]
His skills had not come overnight, despite his aptitude for magic and for more dexterous weapons. Years of hard work went into being the man he would become alongside Noctis. And he took his training every bit as seriously as anything else he learned, pouring heart and soul and sweat and blood into it.
Crownsguard training had gone without much incident, graduating with flying colors at a young age. But the Kingsglaive was another class altogether, an elite military force, the King's most trusted. Between his own studies and Noct's, Ignis currently finds himself wondering if what he's learned is enough, if he should back out now before he's in over his head. Hotheaded Gladiolus certainly has the skill of fighting well in hand, after all. What need has he to prove himself any further?
And yet, he persists, determined. It helps to have a skillful mentor to guide him, although given some of the snickering the other Glaives do behind his back where they think he can't hear, maybe 'guide' isn't the best term. The Hero, as Nyx Ulric is called, sometimes in awe, sometimes in jest, but his skills speak for themselves. Reckless, certainly, but every bit deserving of being a ranking member of the Kingsglaive.
Ignis sits in his fatigues, focused, concentrating, sharpening a dagger. He's been finding that while polearms are excellent for reach, for fancy footwork on the ground and in the air, daggers and small blades give that fine edge of finesse, tighter control. And as is true in the kitchen, it's true on the battlefield--a dull knife is far harder and more dangerous for the user to work with than a finely honed and clean edge.]
[Nyx is right about how those words put Regis on edge. It's an instinctive response despite the fact this is Nyx Ulric, the shattered young man he pulled from Galahd's ruins and who he's watched grow into a fearsome warrior over the last few years. Even with his rebellious nature, he's been a cornerstone of the Glaive almost from the moment it was founded in its present incarnation.
Magic thickens the air just for a moment and then Nyx continues. The way that magic fades from the air again is the first sign that Nyx didn't miscalculate this particular risk. The second comes more suddenly than the first when Regis lifts a hand to rest it against his chest as he lets out a choked, and frankly unregal, laugh.
Once the laugh passes, more quickly than Nyx probably wishes, Regis has to clear his throat before speaking.]
If you truly wish permanent Wall guard duty, I suspect there are far less painful ways to achieve your goal. For your own good, I hope my Shield doesn't catch wind of you having said that.
[Regis' voice is so grave that telling how serious that warning is would be impossible if it wasn't for the twinkle in his eyes. He moves forward a few more steps, those steps bringing him even with the balcony's opening.]
You do realize if I step out there, you are on duty again. My life is in your hands. Spirit is, unfortunately, a poor shield against assassins.
Magic thickens the air just for a moment and then Nyx continues. The way that magic fades from the air again is the first sign that Nyx didn't miscalculate this particular risk. The second comes more suddenly than the first when Regis lifts a hand to rest it against his chest as he lets out a choked, and frankly unregal, laugh.
Once the laugh passes, more quickly than Nyx probably wishes, Regis has to clear his throat before speaking.]
If you truly wish permanent Wall guard duty, I suspect there are far less painful ways to achieve your goal. For your own good, I hope my Shield doesn't catch wind of you having said that.
[Regis' voice is so grave that telling how serious that warning is would be impossible if it wasn't for the twinkle in his eyes. He moves forward a few more steps, those steps bringing him even with the balcony's opening.]
You do realize if I step out there, you are on duty again. My life is in your hands. Spirit is, unfortunately, a poor shield against assassins.
Aww c'mon, Majesty. You're not gonna turn me in are ya?
[A wicked bit of challenge in the words, lips curving up into a smirk. Clarus would murder him, this is true. But the only person Clarus could possibly learn it from is Regis.
Nyx is only just close enough to see that spark, the bit of mischief that he's seen before, that made him confident that Regis would appreciate a bit of fun. If there's a bit of a thrill in it, in seeing the King himself let lose just a little, well. Regis is a very attractive man.
The hesitation makes the smug smile slip a little, has Nyx stepping away from the railing, crossing the balcony to stand directly in front of Regis. It's an old, outdated show of respect, the way he bows, takes Regis' hand and brushes his lips over his knuckles. A gesture of honor, of loyalty, fealty sworn to his liege. There is no question that on duty or off he would sacrifice everything for his king.
It should be the ring he kisses but the chance to feel warm skin under his lips is a little too enticing for him to pass up. Pale blue eyes lift to meet green, the soft light of the moon making them look silver, reflective like some predatory animal. And then he smirks again, rolling his shoulder in a casual shrug.]
Got it all wrong, Majesty. It's that spirit we should be shielding. C'mon.
[A wicked bit of challenge in the words, lips curving up into a smirk. Clarus would murder him, this is true. But the only person Clarus could possibly learn it from is Regis.
Nyx is only just close enough to see that spark, the bit of mischief that he's seen before, that made him confident that Regis would appreciate a bit of fun. If there's a bit of a thrill in it, in seeing the King himself let lose just a little, well. Regis is a very attractive man.
The hesitation makes the smug smile slip a little, has Nyx stepping away from the railing, crossing the balcony to stand directly in front of Regis. It's an old, outdated show of respect, the way he bows, takes Regis' hand and brushes his lips over his knuckles. A gesture of honor, of loyalty, fealty sworn to his liege. There is no question that on duty or off he would sacrifice everything for his king.
It should be the ring he kisses but the chance to feel warm skin under his lips is a little too enticing for him to pass up. Pale blue eyes lift to meet green, the soft light of the moon making them look silver, reflective like some predatory animal. And then he smirks again, rolling his shoulder in a casual shrug.]
Got it all wrong, Majesty. It's that spirit we should be shielding. C'mon.
I probably should, but then I would be down a very talented glaive, and I'm quite certain there's no one who could fill your shoes. No, it is wisest to keep you right where you are.
[Of course, that statement takes a bit of unintended meaning when Nyx bows and presses his lips Regis' hand. It's a surprising show of respect, outdated as it may be. Regis has never minded the fact the practice fell away for most people would do it merely as an expected symbolic act. It would mean little or nothing and he's never had time for such things.
This is the complete opposite of that and Regis can't help but let his eyes fall shut a moment as those warm lips press against his skin. His opens his eyes again just in time catch that predatory look, and suddenly finds himself happy that he's learned to school his expression enough that no blush has a hope of crossing his face. His eyes soften, though.]
Is that so?
[Despite the his words, Regis doesn't resist being led out onto the balcony any longer.]
Why do I get the impression there are many things that you would like to correct my views on?
[Of course, that statement takes a bit of unintended meaning when Nyx bows and presses his lips Regis' hand. It's a surprising show of respect, outdated as it may be. Regis has never minded the fact the practice fell away for most people would do it merely as an expected symbolic act. It would mean little or nothing and he's never had time for such things.
This is the complete opposite of that and Regis can't help but let his eyes fall shut a moment as those warm lips press against his skin. His opens his eyes again just in time catch that predatory look, and suddenly finds himself happy that he's learned to school his expression enough that no blush has a hope of crossing his face. His eyes soften, though.]
Is that so?
[Despite the his words, Regis doesn't resist being led out onto the balcony any longer.]
Why do I get the impression there are many things that you would like to correct my views on?
[Keep him where he is, huh?
That predatory gaze goes hot and fierce for a fleeting moment. Less passive, less observing a hunter and more being the hunted. For one wild moment even Nyx isn't sure what he wants to do, what he will do. Green eyes flicker back to his face and go soft, gentle and wise and he has to lick his lips, slow and hungry and force down the parts of himself that want to pounce. It would be so easy. Forget the balcony there's a dozen pieces of furniture he could press Regis to, feel the body he is damn confident is nowhere near as weak as he might allow people to suppose.
Slowly he straightens again, the act clearly one that takes a great deal of willpower. His hand never leaves Regis' though, guiding him out into the moonlight carefully measured steps, pale gaze bright and alert. Nothing will get the drop on them, at least. ]
Correct? I wouldn't presume to correct the King. But I sure wouldn't mind a debate or two with a new... [A pause, gaze just as heated and eager as a moment before.] ... friend.
That predatory gaze goes hot and fierce for a fleeting moment. Less passive, less observing a hunter and more being the hunted. For one wild moment even Nyx isn't sure what he wants to do, what he will do. Green eyes flicker back to his face and go soft, gentle and wise and he has to lick his lips, slow and hungry and force down the parts of himself that want to pounce. It would be so easy. Forget the balcony there's a dozen pieces of furniture he could press Regis to, feel the body he is damn confident is nowhere near as weak as he might allow people to suppose.
Slowly he straightens again, the act clearly one that takes a great deal of willpower. His hand never leaves Regis' though, guiding him out into the moonlight carefully measured steps, pale gaze bright and alert. Nothing will get the drop on them, at least. ]
Correct? I wouldn't presume to correct the King. But I sure wouldn't mind a debate or two with a new... [A pause, gaze just as heated and eager as a moment before.] ... friend.
[Regis knows he's allowing his eyes to follow the motion of Nyx's tongue over his lips far too closely, but it's either that or focus on the rise of his own heart rate. While he's been on the receiving end of these looks his whole life, only rarely have they actual been focused on the man instead of the king. The last had been...
Has it really been since he lost Aulea?
He should put an end to this; send Ulric back to his duties before either of them regret it, but he doesn't. Later, perhaps he will blame the lapse on the fact he's feeling the weight of his mortality stronger tonight than he usually does. How many more chances will he get to be a man instead of a king?
Likely as few times as he will have to be a father.
In an effort to push away those morbid thoughts, Regis turns his gaze out at the city, pointedly avoiding anything too near the Wall. He doesn't need more reminders tonight.]
It's been quite some time since I've been able to debate with a friend. Let no one tell you that debates with councilmen are the same. They most certainly are not.
Has it really been since he lost Aulea?
He should put an end to this; send Ulric back to his duties before either of them regret it, but he doesn't. Later, perhaps he will blame the lapse on the fact he's feeling the weight of his mortality stronger tonight than he usually does. How many more chances will he get to be a man instead of a king?
Likely as few times as he will have to be a father.
In an effort to push away those morbid thoughts, Regis turns his gaze out at the city, pointedly avoiding anything too near the Wall. He doesn't need more reminders tonight.]
It's been quite some time since I've been able to debate with a friend. Let no one tell you that debates with councilmen are the same. They most certainly are not.
[For a moment he's there with him, those breathtaking eyes on his lips, carefully composed and unaffected but still there. And in the span of a few steps, less than a minute, he's distant again, carefully shuttered away with his thoughts and his caution and Nyx can't help the tension that tightens his jaw, frustration nearly winning out.
He wants to call him on it. Insist that he stop doing the king thing and just be Regis for a little bit. Stop crushing himself under the weight of the crown. ]
Nah I can't imagine it is. Sometimes it's just fun to be contrary to make someone think about their own position, y'know?
[Crowe and Pelna hate it but they're good sports at least. Libertus is the type to argue with his fists, not his words though so he doesn't get to to it with his best friend often.
He eyes the man beside him on the balcony for a moment and then nods slightly, affirming something to himself. Nyx flashes a smile over at Regis and then he's shifting a little closer, hands lifting to the king's shoulders. His motions are smooth but slow, obviously giving Regis the opportunity to tell him off but he's not going to verbally give him an excuse to sneak out of it.
And gradually Nyx unfastens the decorative chains that drape over his chest, the heavy asymmetrical cape, the truly absurd weight of the pauldron that keeps all of it so close to his body.]
Dunno how you move at all with all this crap.
He wants to call him on it. Insist that he stop doing the king thing and just be Regis for a little bit. Stop crushing himself under the weight of the crown. ]
Nah I can't imagine it is. Sometimes it's just fun to be contrary to make someone think about their own position, y'know?
[Crowe and Pelna hate it but they're good sports at least. Libertus is the type to argue with his fists, not his words though so he doesn't get to to it with his best friend often.
He eyes the man beside him on the balcony for a moment and then nods slightly, affirming something to himself. Nyx flashes a smile over at Regis and then he's shifting a little closer, hands lifting to the king's shoulders. His motions are smooth but slow, obviously giving Regis the opportunity to tell him off but he's not going to verbally give him an excuse to sneak out of it.
And gradually Nyx unfastens the decorative chains that drape over his chest, the heavy asymmetrical cape, the truly absurd weight of the pauldron that keeps all of it so close to his body.]
Dunno how you move at all with all this crap.
Oh, is that how you explain your usual behavior?
[Regis raises an eyebrow as he turns his eyes in Nyx's direction. There's humor in them now, a vast improvement from the soft sadness of a few moments before.]
Perhaps you should lead with that explanation the next time Captain Drautos is asking to have you placed on Wall guard? You never know. It may make a difference.
[The joke has barely left his mouth when Regis once more finds his eyes following Nyx closer than they should be. This time the focus is the man's fingers as he works loose the chains keeping his cape in place. It's usually the first piece of his raiment that he sheds when he returns to his rooms, so Regis makes no motion to put a stop to Nyx's actions. When the weight leaves his shoulders, it's all he can do to keep himself from sighing in relief.
He doesn't quite manage to keep the curious voice in the back of his head from wondering why Nyx is so good at working through all the decorative chains and clasps, though.]
You have my thanks. I suppose I do it the same way as you do with your uniform. Too many years of practice and need.
[Regis raises an eyebrow as he turns his eyes in Nyx's direction. There's humor in them now, a vast improvement from the soft sadness of a few moments before.]
Perhaps you should lead with that explanation the next time Captain Drautos is asking to have you placed on Wall guard? You never know. It may make a difference.
[The joke has barely left his mouth when Regis once more finds his eyes following Nyx closer than they should be. This time the focus is the man's fingers as he works loose the chains keeping his cape in place. It's usually the first piece of his raiment that he sheds when he returns to his rooms, so Regis makes no motion to put a stop to Nyx's actions. When the weight leaves his shoulders, it's all he can do to keep himself from sighing in relief.
He doesn't quite manage to keep the curious voice in the back of his head from wondering why Nyx is so good at working through all the decorative chains and clasps, though.]
You have my thanks. I suppose I do it the same way as you do with your uniform. Too many years of practice and need.
Edited (Typo!) 2018-11-13 11:29 (UTC)
[He snorts softly, rolls his eyes a bit to demonstrate exactly what he thinks of trying to explain to Drautos.
As buckles and chains fall away Nyx hefts the weight of that ornamental armor into his arms, lets thick, heavy fabric come with it. He looks down at it, shakes his head a little and then turns to dump the whole pile unceremoniously onto one of the balcony's chairs.]
There's no need, there. Sure it looks fancy but it's about as useful as peacock feathers.
[Beautiful and extravagant, good for making him seem larger than he is with the bulk of it and the flare of the cape. But there's no function to it.]
Least the decorative parts of mine aren't a hindrance.
[And as he steps back to Regis' side he lets his hands splay against his chest, nudging his shoulders back a little, gently pressing him into squaring up better. Fingers swift and nimble on his body, even through the layers of fabric that still separate them.]
All the weight on that side, and you knee... Just making you more lopsided, Majesty. You'd be more imposing without all the frills. [Which Nyx follows up by stepping up into his space, looking up at the older man with a slow smile, eager and appreciative. Oh yes, much more imposing when he can stand tall, shoulders squared and back straight rather than weighted down so much, forced to stoop to lean into the cane he carries.]
As buckles and chains fall away Nyx hefts the weight of that ornamental armor into his arms, lets thick, heavy fabric come with it. He looks down at it, shakes his head a little and then turns to dump the whole pile unceremoniously onto one of the balcony's chairs.]
There's no need, there. Sure it looks fancy but it's about as useful as peacock feathers.
[Beautiful and extravagant, good for making him seem larger than he is with the bulk of it and the flare of the cape. But there's no function to it.]
Least the decorative parts of mine aren't a hindrance.
[And as he steps back to Regis' side he lets his hands splay against his chest, nudging his shoulders back a little, gently pressing him into squaring up better. Fingers swift and nimble on his body, even through the layers of fabric that still separate them.]
All the weight on that side, and you knee... Just making you more lopsided, Majesty. You'd be more imposing without all the frills. [Which Nyx follows up by stepping up into his space, looking up at the older man with a slow smile, eager and appreciative. Oh yes, much more imposing when he can stand tall, shoulders squared and back straight rather than weighted down so much, forced to stoop to lean into the cane he carries.]
[The finger wiggle does, in fact, get a laugh out of him. A harsh startled burst of a laugh that gets choked off into something closer to a sob because that fucking hurts.
He's still trying to catch his breath from the laugh when Izunia suddenly shrinks, smaller and more compact and at least closer to human sized. The startled, shocked response that his brain immediately goes to is just far too much effort for his damaged body and he ends up just staring at the redhead for a long moment.
It takes some time for his mind to sort out what he's looking at, exactly. He's plenty familiar with octopus, has hunted them before, a favored Galahdian delicacy and the traditional source of ink for the scattered tattoos that mark his body.
But once he realizes exactly what's going on, not so much that he's part fucking fish, but that he's panicking, Nyx tries to move. He can't manage much but he does at least stretch his legs out,an offer of contact but not forcing it on him. He's seen it go both ways. Libertus for example would grip his shoulder until it bruised, hold on and try to make a joke of it later. He, himself, tended to retaliate with a face full of flames.]
You're right. [Talking hurts but it's something he might be able to focus on, to bring him back to the present so Nyx does, just blathers on about whatever pops into his head.] Not gonna bleed out but fuck if it doesn't feel like it. Might still puke on you, sorry. Metal'd be easier to clean, at least. Though I guess the fishy bits would clean up well enough?
Why do you have tentacles?
No, never mind I don't want to know. Mmm I miss getting good octopus, man. Even the few Galahdian food stands never had anything like real octopus. Damn wall.
He's still trying to catch his breath from the laugh when Izunia suddenly shrinks, smaller and more compact and at least closer to human sized. The startled, shocked response that his brain immediately goes to is just far too much effort for his damaged body and he ends up just staring at the redhead for a long moment.
It takes some time for his mind to sort out what he's looking at, exactly. He's plenty familiar with octopus, has hunted them before, a favored Galahdian delicacy and the traditional source of ink for the scattered tattoos that mark his body.
But once he realizes exactly what's going on, not so much that he's part fucking fish, but that he's panicking, Nyx tries to move. He can't manage much but he does at least stretch his legs out,an offer of contact but not forcing it on him. He's seen it go both ways. Libertus for example would grip his shoulder until it bruised, hold on and try to make a joke of it later. He, himself, tended to retaliate with a face full of flames.]
You're right. [Talking hurts but it's something he might be able to focus on, to bring him back to the present so Nyx does, just blathers on about whatever pops into his head.] Not gonna bleed out but fuck if it doesn't feel like it. Might still puke on you, sorry. Metal'd be easier to clean, at least. Though I guess the fishy bits would clean up well enough?
Why do you have tentacles?
No, never mind I don't want to know. Mmm I miss getting good octopus, man. Even the few Galahdian food stands never had anything like real octopus. Damn wall.
[It's a minute before any kind of response, and the first thing that happens is that Izunia leans up against Nyx's good leg, taking the offer where he can find it. His breathing starts to even out, but slowly, until he can speak again, but it's the disjointed, context deprived speech of someone still bringing themselves down.]
You sound like my brother-in-law, rambling on like that.
[Another deep breath, one more moment of his hands pressed against his face -
And then in another sparkle of crystal, his legs are back to being legs, the barely-visible gills under his collar vanishing.
Almost absently, he starts petting the cat rubbing up against his side.]
Don't worry. We've got fresh fish, at least. Not sure about octopus but we can probably find something.
[Yknow, other than him.]
You sound like my brother-in-law, rambling on like that.
[Another deep breath, one more moment of his hands pressed against his face -
And then in another sparkle of crystal, his legs are back to being legs, the barely-visible gills under his collar vanishing.
Almost absently, he starts petting the cat rubbing up against his side.]
Don't worry. We've got fresh fish, at least. Not sure about octopus but we can probably find something.
[Yknow, other than him.]
[Oh but it would be so much easier to blame Ardyn for it all than consider that Drautos was just legitimately insane. That none of them had noticed. That they'd been so thoroughly played. That the King's death had been secondary to seeking out the ring.
He's on edge, at best, and the phase, the little shift out of the way of something so viscerally satisfying is what finally makes him crack. He doesn't want logic right now, he wants one moment to be gut-wrenchingly angry, to feel all the hurt and grief and betrayal. So Ardyn phases-
And Nyx follows with his fist, aiming for where the man will stop as best he can, and it's certainly something he has a fair bit of experience with. ]
He's on edge, at best, and the phase, the little shift out of the way of something so viscerally satisfying is what finally makes him crack. He doesn't want logic right now, he wants one moment to be gut-wrenchingly angry, to feel all the hurt and grief and betrayal. So Ardyn phases-
And Nyx follows with his fist, aiming for where the man will stop as best he can, and it's certainly something he has a fair bit of experience with. ]
[He didn't phase out of the path of that strike--by choice, not that it was clear. Nyx's fist connected with Ardyn's jaw, sending him jerking back and reeling for a moment.]
[...Damn, he definitely could hit as hard as it had looked.]
[...Damn, he definitely could hit as hard as it had looked.]
[He's never been good at doing the mentoring thing. That was always Libertus. Friendly and affectionate, able to connect with just about everyone, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. A little too soft-hearted if Nyx was completely honest but that's always been part of his charm. A charm that is shared in many ways by the Prince's Shield so it's no wonder that it's Nyx they send Ignis to for training.
The young man is very good at what he does, precise and methodical. But he's got no guts, no instincts. He'd be an excellent strategist, planning the movements of whole units, looking down at a map and preparing for the worst. But what Ignis considers recklessness is the very thing that makes him a leader and it's not something he can teach. You've either got it, or you don't.]
Still dunno how you work with those. [They've discussed it no less than a dozen times, the clean long straight blades that Ignis uses feel heavy and unwieldy in Nyx's hands, so accustomed to the kukris of his homeland. The older man drops onto the bench beside Ignis, still in uniform, dirt smudged and dusty from a day outside the wall but he's still prepared to do some work with his... apprentice?]
The young man is very good at what he does, precise and methodical. But he's got no guts, no instincts. He'd be an excellent strategist, planning the movements of whole units, looking down at a map and preparing for the worst. But what Ignis considers recklessness is the very thing that makes him a leader and it's not something he can teach. You've either got it, or you don't.]
Still dunno how you work with those. [They've discussed it no less than a dozen times, the clean long straight blades that Ignis uses feel heavy and unwieldy in Nyx's hands, so accustomed to the kukris of his homeland. The older man drops onto the bench beside Ignis, still in uniform, dirt smudged and dusty from a day outside the wall but he's still prepared to do some work with his... apprentice?]
[Ignis' hands hesitate for a brief moment when Nyx all but collapses beside him. He's getting used to all the sweat and dirt involved in the work, the sort of thing Gladio seems to revel in, but it's still so messy.]
They're well-balanced. With identical siding to them, I never have to worry about which way they're pointing or what direction they're situated in my hand for a cutting edge. Clean. Efficient. [A light shrug.] That's not to say that yours shouldn't work for you or couldn't work for me; with enough training, anyone could become proficient in any variation of weaponry. These happen to be my choice.
[He brings up the blade he's been concentrating on, tilting it this way, angling it that way, seeing if it's to his liking. It might also be a bit of a show for his...mentor. His mentor who doesn't seem fit for mentoring, and yet here they are. A wild, instinctual beast and an intellectual strategist. Still, he wants to be making a good impression here.]
You don't approve. You think they're slow and showy.
They're well-balanced. With identical siding to them, I never have to worry about which way they're pointing or what direction they're situated in my hand for a cutting edge. Clean. Efficient. [A light shrug.] That's not to say that yours shouldn't work for you or couldn't work for me; with enough training, anyone could become proficient in any variation of weaponry. These happen to be my choice.
[He brings up the blade he's been concentrating on, tilting it this way, angling it that way, seeing if it's to his liking. It might also be a bit of a show for his...mentor. His mentor who doesn't seem fit for mentoring, and yet here they are. A wild, instinctual beast and an intellectual strategist. Still, he wants to be making a good impression here.]
You don't approve. You think they're slow and showy.
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