Difficult not to be much else. [He is, perhaps, ten years Nyx's junior--that would make Nyx, what, not quite yet thirty? Really. A grown man ought know better. Perhaps Nyx has never seen all of the boys together, the way they can be crude as only teenagers truly can. Which is not, however, the same as being immune to overt flirtation.
He parts his lips, as if to say something, but does not. Well. If this is going to turn into some kind of lesson about letting himself go, to be slightly more instinctual and reckless as only a Galahdian can be, why not start now? The blade flips in his hand, and Ignis presses the butt of the dagger under Nyx's chin to lift it, and subsequently, his gaze.]
A diplomat, that is. The pretty, too, but that's a matter you'll have to take up with my genetics.
[As much as he wants to ignore Ardyn, ignore the logic, ignore all of it... he can't. He stops at the end of the hall, a fair distance from the redhead. If he looks at him he'll punch him again so he doesn't, doesn't dare look back over his shoulder.]
Don't.
[He's not ready for logic, not so soon and not from Ardyn's own mouth. Even if there's part of him that knows so much of this is on Drautos' shoulders... even if he has to acknowledge how deep that betrayal went.]
If you decide you want to hear from me the truth of who I am and what I've done--then you can come find me when you're prepared. I won't seek you out before then.
If the worst thing I have to do this week is kneel on a stone floor for a little while then it's a boring week.
[How could you expect anything other than sass and fight from this man, Regis. You know better. Still he smiles, presses into the hand on his cheek and rolls his eyes at the comment about his restraint. Way to make him sound desperate, Regis.
It isn't until Regis has stopped his hand and drawn it up that he even realizes how far it had crept without his notice or permission.]
Ah... yeah. Probably a good idea.
[Nyx has the decency to blush a little. He doesn't want Regis to have to maintain this fog for too long and he does want the other man to be comfortable, regardless of all the teasing. He shifts back onto his heels, rolls smoothly back to his feet. A moment to lean over Regis, capturing his lips for one more kiss before he steps away. It takes only a moment for him to collect the fallen cane, but even though he has it he offers Regis his arm to brace against as he stands instead of that heavy walking stick.]
[He's all set to comment on that. Yeah, difficult not to just live, breathe, and bleed duty around here. But then Ignis makes his move and it's such an abrupt shift, so bold, brazen even, yet still perfectly classy and the words slip away.
It had been a joke, up until the moment that cool metal pressed under his jaw and suddenly it's something else all together, something hot and fierce flickering through that silvery gaze. He swallows hard, presses into the metal of the dagger, licks his lips and tries to remember what he was going to say.
Fuck, he's got 10 years on this kid, he should definitely not be so far gone so easily. He laughs, soft and breathless and it's not nearly as dismissive as he'd meant it to be but it's something.]
Ya got balls, I'll give you that.
[It's a calculated risk but still a risk all the same.]
That's a start. [And totally what he'd meant to get out of this, Ignis crossing lines and ignoring propriety. That's the goal. Yeah. Nothing to do with the sudden spark of heat in his blood. Fuck.]
[The air around them has changed. It's palpable, and there's a narrowing to Ignis' eyes like he might be able to see it. But it's not around them, is it? No, he can see something in Nyx's eyes. Was this a mistake or a step in the right direction? Depends on who you ask. Nyx licks his lips, and Ignis...finally looks away and takes the dagger with him. He doesn't clear his throat as if to clear the air, but it's a near thing. He's not nervous or worried or overwhelmed. He's not feeling the spark of something incredibly inappropriate. Of course not.]
I like to think that I've never lacked for courage. I simply don't- [And here he pulls the blade back, lets it go in a deadly spin. He does not zip after it in blue light, but allows it to strike home, sticking out of a wooden beam, handle vibrating from the force.] -fling myself heedlessly into the uncaring void of battle.
[There can be little to no doubt that the Founder King was a parent in his own time, with how automatically he shifts into the comforting tone. He straightens up and offers Nyx a hand to squeeze - he's less fragile than the chair, he can deal with it - until the man is ready to move.]
It's not that far to our medbay - inside and a bit of an elevator trip. But I should warn you that most of our medical staff isn't human here, so... Don't panic and please don't stab anyone.
[He likes his primary doctor and his FWB unstabbed, please, Nyx, do him this.]
[He's wary at first, of taking Izunia's hand, but he does, clings to it for the longest count of ten he's ever had to do. Then, slowly, he eases his grip and dares to swallow again. A moment where he actually has to lean over, heaving briefly. Pain making his head swim and his insides violently rebelling against the idea of motion after mixing so many curatives.]
Not human? [He finally croaks out, slumping back into the chair for a moment before looking over towards the door, judging the distance. He can make that. Surely he can make that.
And he'sdoing his damnedest to push himself up out of the chair and to his feet. Fuck your warnings Izunia. He will move under his own godsdamned power.]
[Ignis breaks the contact, looks away and Nyx finally feels like he can pull in a full breath. For a moment he's grateful but then he's mad a beat later, frustrated with exactly how difficult Ignis is to read.
Serpent cursed fucking Lucians.]
's not heedless. It's called following your gut.
[Perhaps a little harsher than is strictly necessary. But the way he dismisses the courage and strength of so many of the Glaives only adds to the spark of heat, denied the opportunity to follow desired and so turned back around into something irritated and angry.]
[Izunia will let him push, but it's with the sort of hovering that clearly says 'I expect you to need help not falling on your face at any moment.' He only pauses to quite literally kick the damaged chair into his Armiger once Nyx is out of it, and grab his kitty's leash.]
Mmm - it's late enough in the morning that Jet's probably already gone to bed, so it'll be Strange on duty - they're an android, more human-looking than Niflheim's damn magitek at least. Jetshard's the other main person on medical staff, and she's a troll - tall grey-skinned alien with horns, very good friend of mine.
[It's apparently his turn to just straight up babble as they make their way to the doors and inside.]
[Walking is rough, no doubt about it. He's unsteady now without the magic searing through him but he's also not sure he's stable enough to just warp to the door. So he slowly makes his way, limping heavily, staggering more than once but determined to get there on his own.]
Android? [he sounds as startled and uncertain as he can while still gritting his teeth to force his way through the pain.] You're sure it's not Magitek?
[Because like fuck he's letting an MT anywhere near him. He would literally rather die.
At least he's not too proud to let Izunia hold the door for him?]
[He'll hold the door and even bow, because when have the Lucis Caelums not been incredibly extra motherfuckers?]
On account of the fact that they're native to this world, where Niflheim doesn't even exist. Welcome to Keystone Station, home to any number of the multiverse's lost socks, keys, and people.
[It's thankfully quiet through the halls this morning as Izunia steps by to lead the way to the elevator. No one else around at this hour, at least at the moment.]
If you'd absolutely prefer, though, I can drag Jet back out, but her skill with magical healing isn't near as good anyway.
Once you are in a battle, there's no telling what will happen. You can't plan for the details and must move accordingly. [He rises from where he's sat to follow the path of his blade. The air seems much less electrified over here, easier to breathe.] And I've no doubt that the Kingsglaive as a whole has an uncanny ability to move together as one like a well-oiled machine.
Don't mistake me, sir, I recognize that there is a time and a place. But you can't expect me to do everything on gut instinct; that's hardly going to work out in your favor in every fight.
Boring weeks are becoming rather elusive these days, aren't they? [Despite his best efforts, there's a regret-tinged sadness that makes it way into Regis' eyes. He hides it by shifting his gaze from Nyx to where his dress cape rests discarded a chair over, slightly out of his reach. The last thing he wants to do is ask Nyx to retrieve it for him. The Glaive is already catering to him more than he should have to. He may be a servant of the Crown, but this type of service is far below him.
With a sharp flick of his hand, Regis accesses the Armiger and the cape disappears with a soft crystalline crackle. He draws a slow measured breath to beat back the rush of exhaustion that follows. It's been growing harder to access the Armiger lately--just one more reason he has no more place on the battlefield--and he may regret that action later when he has to spend time fishing to find the cape again, but for now the matter has been taken care of.
Once he's sure his energy level has stabilized, Regis draws himself up from the chair, doing his best to ignore the protests of his back and leg. If the only immediate consequence he has to deal with from that bit of frivolous magic is having to lean a little heavier on Nyx's arm than he would prefer, he's not going to complain. Instead, once they've finally started toward his rooms, he tilts his head in the Glaive's direction nearly whispering in his ear.]
You blush rather fetchingly. I'm going to have to see that it happens more often.
[He shrugs a little. Boring is getting harder and harder to come by, sure, but he has no complaints, not for himself. Seeing how much just that little flicker of magic weighs on Regis, though, makes him frown a little. He almost offers more assistance than just a brace and counterbalance as Regis gets to his feet but there's a fine line between necessary assistance and babying him. He doesn't want to cross that line.
So he lets Regis lean into him and when the older man shifts ever so slightly to murmur in his ear Nyx lets his arm shift from directly under Regis' hand to sliding around his waist. It leaves them pressed lightly against each other from hip to shoulder and that alone is enough to have Nyx humming a soft contented sigh.
He laughs at the words though, sharp and bright and perhaps more bravado than he wants to admit.]
Blush? C'mon, sir. You know Galahdians are shameless, you'll have to do better than that.
Oh, most certainly. How could I not know when I have such a perfect example of that here at my side?
[The amusement that brightens Regis' pale green eyes really should warn Nyx that he's not getting off that easily. Especially in the light of that second blush.]
That said, I'm sure you're just as aware that embarrassment is far from the only reason people blush. I have options.
[Regis gives Nyx a knowing smile and then steps away so that he can unlock and push open the door to his suite. He motions for the Glaive to enter the room before him and then follows, lingering near the door long enough to hear the lock catch. It's a habit born of necessity; one he doesn't even consciously realize he's doing any longer.]
There are several bottles in the liquor cabinet I suspect you will find quite to your liking. Why don't you pick one while I shed a few more layers? [Without waiting for an answer, Regis makes his way over to the ornate dresser that sits along one wall. He leans his cane against the edge, and then reaches up and carefully removes his crown from where is rests against his temple, settling it with great care into a velvet lined box. The weight of the Crown never completely leaves him, but for the moment it lessens just enough to let him rest. That rest isn't something Regis is guaranteed anymore--hasn't been for some time--and when the opportunity comes, he can't let it pass him by.
Hopefully, Nyx really is as eager to know the man behind the Crown as he believes himself to be.]
Edited (I went back and counted how many times I used the word 'rest' in one paragraph and the answer was TOO MANY. X.x) 2018-11-20 12:16 (UTC)
[The bow would get an eyeroll if Nyx didn't think it'd throw him off kilter enough to drop him. But even so he does stagger, watching Izunia for one stunned moment.]
No Niffs?
[The idea of a world without the threat of the empire is almost too good to be true. No wanton destruction, no oppression, no more homes wiped off the map.]
What? This android can use actual magic?
[So where's this elevator cause he could really use a wall to lean on right about now.]
Pretty sure there's a helluva lot more times and places than you think, Ignis.
[But maybe not this one. He might've overestimated himself here, or rather underestimated Ignis. Now the notion's there niggling at the back of his mind it changes the way he looks at the younger man. Not just how he considers him but literally the way he watches Ignis move is a little different, a touch more predatory than it had been.
When he stands to retrieve his dagger Nyx's eyes follow, watching the movement curiously, following the motion of his hips, the way he carries himself, the span of his shoulders...
It's a dangerous line of thought and Nyx is far too good at holding people at a distance to really consider it seriously, never mind the rules they'd be breaking... but damn if he can pull his gaze away.]
[Options. Yes, Nyx can think of a few ways he wouldn't mind getting a flush on those absolutely devastating cheekbones.
Liquor wasn't the first thing that came to mind but it was certainly on his list. He doesn't head straight for the cabinet, though. Possibly surprising to Regis, he too hesitates, hovers by the door for confirmation that it's secure. Less familiar with the space he even lays a hand on the door, pushing gently to make sure it is firmly latched.
And then flashing Regis a brief, sheepish smile.]
Galahdians are shameless and Glaives are paranoid, it's an odd mix on the best of days.
[He chuckles a little but it's more to break any awkwardness than actual humor. He'd meant it when he'd said he'd make sure nothing happened to Regis, that applied to more than just the balcony and if they're really going to completely relax the only way he can do that is to ensure the room is as secure as possible before he does something as reckless as drinking.
The liquor cabinet is also not the first place he goes. A cursory lap of the room, checking the windows and doing his best not to make it obvious what he's doing, looking at furniture and paintings in equal measure, whistling softly at the size of the room. Yes, yes look at the poor Galahdian, so impressed by Lucian grandeur. It's a role he's played so well for so long he doesn't even realize he's doing it at first and then, once he has, it'd be so very awkward and strange to stop.]
You have any preferences?
[Now that he's finally meandered his way over to the liquor cabinet. His first instinct is to reach for the darkest bottle in there. A richly spiced honey bourbon from...]
[That sheepish smile is met with an understanding one in return. Even if he weren't prone to doing it himself, Regis has been around people doing it his whole life. It's stranger to be in a room with someone not doing it than the opposite. His own quarters are no exception to this. Clarus' insistence on seeing him there is sometimes more than just because of an overabundance of caution. There have been many nights--after calls that were too close, plots discovered farther along than they should have been even though no one was in danger quite yet, reports of losses too high beyond their reaches--where Regis has allowed his Shield to accompany him back to his rooms and secure them until he was satisfied no matter how long it took. His old friend would not have rested otherwise. Not while there was any doubt in his mind that the one person he had the power to see absolutely safe was.
Nyx is really no different in that respect. The next generation already being weighed down by the same burdens as the previous one.
Regis is glad when Nyx's question draws him out of that cycle of thoughts. In fact, he almost laughs when he turns and sees which bottle the Glaive is asking about.
What a coincidence.]
It is. My favorite in fact. Would you like to give it a try? [While Nyx decides on if he would like to crack open a bottle of his king's favorite or continue exploring the cabinet, Regis sets to work removing his suit jacket and vest, leaving both draped over the dresser, before making his way to the nearby chair and settling into it to begin the tedious process of undoing the many clasps and buckles on his knee brace.]
[The charged atmosphere isn't gone entirely, of course, and there's a delightful double meaning to Nyx's words. Ignis grabs hold of the dagger, and in a flash of crystal, stores it back in the armiger rather than pull it out of the wood.
He feels the eyes on him. It's a particularly strange feeling, he finds. Noctis gets all the attention wherever they go, as he should as the crown prince of the kingdom. Nobody pays attention to the servants, the chauffeurs, the bodyguards, the help, not if they don't have some official title and are part of King Regis' inner circle. Most of the time, Ignis passes by relatively unnoticed. There's no avoiding being the center of attention when they are the only two people in the room, but it's more than that.
He glances over his shoulder to catch that gaze.] I imagine you'd like to show me some examples. You are, after all, to teach me.
[There's a flicker of a grin then, surprised and pleased that the first choice he'd reached for also happened to be one of Regis' favorites. He'd call him on trying to humor him but the bottle is low and there's enough wear around the cap that it's clearly been opened repeatedly.
It only takes a moment for him to pour two glasses, just a few fingers each.]
Here, let me.
[The bottle stays out on top of the cabinet, just in case they decide to have more than a single drink, and Nyx crosses back to the armchair Regis has settled himself into. One glass is handed over, a fine spiderweb of crystalline ice spiraling out from where his fingers had been, just enough to chill the glass.
It's the kind of casual careless use of the magic that Pelna is constantly on his case about. As is the flicker of flame that jumps to his fingers as soon as he's settled on the floor in front of Regis. His glass set aside, the fire skitters from his hand to the logs waiting in the grate a few short feet away.]
There we go, just relax.
[And this time he doesn't fight the smile, just shrugging as though he's expecting the concern and the scolding and has heard it a thousand times before. Instead he lays his hands over Regis', seeks out the buckle he was working on so the king can sit back and enjoy his drink and let Nyx deal with the mess of that brace.]
[Regis takes the drink, but just gently swirls the liquor instead of sipping it. His eyes take in the fine web-like lines of frost on the glass before shifting to follow Nyx's fingers and the fire that so naturally leaps from them. By the time those small flames find a new home among the logs, a pleased smile brightens his face while pride dances in his eyes.
Nyx may fear an incoming scolding, but he doesn't realize that is the very last thing he needs to worry about. Regis has always secretly enjoyed seeing the magic he's shared with others used so skillfully. There are no few of his ancestors who've hoarded the magic, citing the drain upon their own health as reason, but Regis has never bought into that line of thought. The Crystal and its magic will drain his life no matter if he hoards its power or shares it. As least sharing will allow him to protect his family and country longer, even if it is through the hands of others instead of with his own.]
It seems the rumors of your talent were not exaggerated. The magic answers your call nearly as easily as it answers mine. If one can honestly ever call such an untamed force 'easily' called. [He finally goes to take a sip from the glass, but pauses, uncomfortable, when Nyx takes over the work of removing his brace, fingers of his empty hand brushing over the Glaive's.]
[It was such a relief not to have the lecture he was expecting come and it showed on his face, in the set of his shoulders, in the way he slumped back with a bemused grin. The fact that praise came with it was even more unexpected and he sat up on his knees in front of Regis once more. This time, at least, there was a soft rug beneath him.]
The king himself listens to barracks gossip?
[It's teasing and he stretches up, hopeful for another kiss.]
Mmm I know I don't need to but you went and got rid of all the superfluous stuff already. So I've gotta have some way of drawing this out.
[His hands move from the brace to the hand that skims over his, drawing it up to brush his lips over Regis' knuckles again, though this time it is decidedly more sensual. Then his fingers slip back, deft and quick as he unfastens the cufflink there. Fingers slip under the open cuff of his shirt, sliding over warm skin, guiding Regis' hand up to his mouth again though this time it's his wrist that gets a lingering kiss.]
Not unless you count Ravus, and he's mostly an idiot, honestly.
[Elevator's right here! Easy peasy. Izunia... if someone could be said to push buttons knowledgeably, that's exactly what he does.
It's really not going to be a long ride, but he's content to stand once the doors open again for Nyx to catch his breath and deal with various revelations.]
To make a long story short - this is a world different from Eos entirely, as are most of the worlds that the other residents of the station come from. And in many of those worlds, magic is a great deal more accessible to the common person than it is to us. Conversely, I've encountered just as many people who don't have magic in their worlds at all.
[He'll offer a hand, if Nyx needs it, but he's not pushing.]
And many of the former have developed some degree of healing magic or another that's quite superior to our hasty battlefield curatives. I'm reasonably sure that between the two, you'll be up and functional again within a handful of days at most.
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