faesphere | Call Me Out / Open RP Post

I... guess.

[Noctis furrows his brows. Heard his thoughts...? He didn't know that was possible, but clearly it must be true, because the man had called him and here he was. Another issue to parse later, when there was no risk of anyone dying, maybe.

He moves his hands, one gently bracing against Ignis' collar, the other wrapping around the dagger, and with a murmured apology he slides it free, flinging it aside. His left palm presses immediately against the wound, holding in the blood, and cautiously reaches out to his new magic. Heal, he thinks, focusing intently on the wound, willing himself to knit back together the damaged flesh. The glimmer of blue light and energy he coaxes to life between his fingers is familiar, too- like the energy of the Crystal from years ago, but softer, slower and less abrupt than potions used to be. It likely can't heal everything - he's newly awakened, and holds power enough as it is - but it's sufficient to take one life and save another.]

[ Even with the apology, Ignis lets out a sharp gasp of pain, gritting his teeth as the dagger comes out. His breathing become rigid as the blood begins to pool out quicker, but then there's a hand on his shoulder fairly quickly. Green eyes watch as Noctis heals him. He can feel his wound closing up.

His head though. Ignis isn't aware of the damage that's been done to the back of his head. Blood cakes back there. ]

... My head. [ he murmurs softy, accepting what's happening to him. What Noctis is doing for him. Healing him. ] He hit my head against the wall quite hard.

[Troublemaker. The thought comes to his mind unbidden, and he wonders at it for a long moment before brushing it aside. He moves to sit cross-legged and carefully guides Ignis to turn around, easing him backwards so his head is rested in Noct's lap, where he runs the healing hand soothingly through his hair, seeking wounds, marks, bruises, working to mend whatever he comes across. Bleeding cuts and concussed pain are slowly transformed into tender skin and a headache, at which point Noctis stops, exhaling tiredly. He wants to heal more, a part of him hates the idea of this man being hurt at all, but he can't push himself too hard on the first day. He's meant to last a very, very long time, after all. Most of the others have existed for thousands of years.

Even after he's done, he leaves his hand in the man's hair, his expression thoughtful as he strokes his fingers across unwashed bloody strands of it. He's dirty and wounded, it's not as soft as it should be. He needs a shower. (...how does he know that?)

Had he... done this before?]

[ As he's tugged into Noctis' lap, head resting there, he shuts his eyes. He takes in the comfort and safety being in Noct's lap like this. He's safe. He's alive, breathing and well.

Fresh tears prick at his eyes as he's more aware now of what's going on. Noctis is here, helping him, healing him, saving his life. How he doesn't understand still, but that can wait. ]

... I haven't seen you in five years. [ he murmurs softly as Noctis strokes his hair.

He can't bring himself to care that he's tied up still, he's safe. His eyes open to look up at Noctis. ] I've missed you. [ words holding a great deal of weight to them, the pain he suffered from losing Noctis, his love and care, the relief in his tone. ]

[Noctis has no answer that, can only recognize the sharp, resounding sensation that floods his body at those words, knowing the feeling at once for what it is: pain. This man does know him, cares deeply for him. Has held on to the memory of whoever "Noct" used to be for five years.

(he loves, he loves, he loves-)

He swallows hard, hating what he has to do, knowing how much it's clearly going to hurt. He has no idea how to fix this, but he won't be able to lie about it with only that feeling of familiarity to chase. He... needs help. A different sort of help than what he'd been able to offer first.

He hesitates, his fingers curling in the man's hair, and then asks,]

Will you tell me your name?

[Maybe, with enough pieces, he can put himself back together again. But he can't do this alone.]

[ Shock and hurt is clear on Ignis' face at the question. He doesn't remember, it's a fate worse than death. He takes in a deep breath and searches Noctis' face, praying and hoping that it's just a joke. But it isn't.

He doesn't hesitate though. ]

Ignis. You call me Iggy or Specs. [ It's not Noctis' fault, no, he doesn't blame Noctis here. He has to help fix this, somehow. He wants his Noctis back and if there's a way that he can help... ]

... What do you remember? [ Even if it hurts Ignis a bit.

He's fighting hard against his feelings, fighting the itch to break down, but he holds it back. ]

[Ignis. Noctis repeats it, quietly, each one in turn. Ignis. Iggy. Specs. They all feel right, flowing off his tongue so naturally, like breathing or blinking. It's the first time he can remember saying those names, but it feels as if he'd said them a thousand times before.

It helps that Ignis remains calm, though he suspects it requires some effort, judging by the hurt in his gaze. In return, Noctis closes his eyes, focusing on the question so that he might give a decent answer. What does he remember?]

I saw... flashes of light, blades in the darkness. A throne, and a ring of pure light. Everything burned for a while. [A beat, and then-] No, it was me. I was burning, and then I was nothing.

[He lifts the red-veined hand, turning it over carefully to examine both sides. This, too, is familiar. He'd burned this way. Alive, but dead, he'd burned away till not a speck of him was left.]

The Bladekeeper spoke to me. I was... supposed to rest, I think. No, I know it. The world didn't need me. [Until the Six come again-] But then- you did. You needed me, so I came here.

[It's insufficient; it's pitiful. He hadn't even thought about it being a problem until just now, as he's realizing how much he must have lost. Is that truly all there is in his mind, now?

...No. No, there is one thing-]

-The dawn, [he adds abruptly, eyes widening.] You saw the dawn. Right?

.... Yes, I saw the dawn. [ he still sees it, day in and day out.

The way how Noctis' speaks of his own death, gets Ignis to shut his own eyes. ] .... I found you on the throne, dead. We found you that way, Gladio and Prompto.

You died to save the world, Noct. It... was the hardest thing I ever had to do, was let you go.

[ He reopens his eyes and looks up at Noctis once more. ] This isn't the first time you've came to my rescue. You saved me before from a terrifying daemon who almost killed me.

I trust you, Noct.

[ Gods, he wants to hug him, but as he is, he can't. ]

... Will you untie me?

[He feels a strange relief at Ignis' answer, to know that he saw it. He doesn't fully understand that feeling, but he'll remember it, so he can reexamine it later if his true memories return.

He feels his heart rate pick up once again at the other names, repeating them quietly as well. Gladio. Prompto. He died, to save the world? On that throne he can remember only briefly, surrounded by darkness and pain and then, suddenly, a blinding light. There were daemons (he remembers daemons, they were gone now, all the Messengers knew that), and he'd fought them. He'd fought one.

Something inside him twists at the idea of chasing those memories, so instead he shakes it off and carefully lifts Ignis up again, gaining access to the ropes so he can untie the knots holding him hostage, their hands brushing as he worked.]

I'm sorry... I... I know you're important to me. I want to remember... was I not allowed...?

[Were they taken from him, because of what he is now? A Messenger of the gods surely doesn't need human memories to fulfill their duty. But if that were the case, why allow him to come back while those who might know him were still alive?

He wishes there was someone who he could ask, but Messengers were made to convey the word of the Astrals to the people of the world. They weren't around to ask questions of those gods themselves.]

[ He feels a lot better than he was before. No longer at the mercy of that stranger, no longer in danger, his wounds healed. As Noctis starts to work on one of the knots keeping him tied up, he knows that he's going to be fine. ]

... Thank you. [ he whispers quietly. For saving him, to whatever Gods that brought him back to Ignis, for giving Noctis a second chance at life. By some miracle that Noctis had heard him somehow.

He spares a glance at Noctis. ] You're very important to me to, Noct.

I'll help you, in any way that I can. I promise. [ he's determined to help Noctis out now. He spares a breath.

The rope is starting to slack around his wrists, almost there. There's two more knots left to go once Noctis has this one free. One knot on his upper back and the other around his legs. ]

... I promised you that I wouldn't forget you. [ Is that why Noctis has forgotten everything? Cause of Ignis' promise? He frowns a little, but it's a thought to keep in mind. ]

Edited 2020-11-14 16:10 (UTC)

Aren't I here to help you?

[Noct's tone is musing in a way that sounds more like his old self, smiling faintly as he finishes the second knot and moves to Ignis' legs. It won't take long at all to free him; if he can't untie one of them, he'll just destroy it. He's wary of using that fire so close to Ignis, though, in case his control isn't stellar just yet. Do Messengers have to train their magic? There's no guidebook for this.

Despite his words, he's warmed by the idea that Ignis will help him. Perhaps, if he can stay for a while, whatever's wrong with his mind will fix itself. He'd... really like that. Even just to stay would be enough, memory or no. Ignis makes him feel safe.]

[ That sounds like the Noctis he knows and he can't help but smile. They got to keep talking to coax stuff like this out of him.

Once the last of the ropes are off, he gingerly tests out his limbs, bringing his arms out from behind his back and grimaces a little at the stiffness of them. How long has he been tied up like that? He rubs at one of his arms a bit, trying to get out the kinks.

He reaches out to Noctis though. ] Noct, I'd like to try hugging you. Please. [ his tone almost betraying how desperately he needs it himself. ]

I...

[Are people allowed to hug Messengers...? Is that not a taboo or something? The question brings to mind a brief, flickering thought: the arms of a child wrapped around a dark-furred dog, hugging tightly and crying into its neck, in pain and mourning the loss of a friend.

Umbra...

He shifts a little closer, and spreads his arms.]

I'll let you.

[ He shifts closer to shut the distance between them and gets his arms wrapped around Noctis, pulling him into a familiar embrace. One that's loving, gentle and caring. One hand idly rubs at Noct's back.

A tear slips down Ignis' cheek, his hands shaking a bit. Gods, it's been five years since he's felt Noctis in his arms like this. Five long, dark years.

He's happy though, safe and warm. But more than that, he's home. Home is where the heart is and he knows all too well where his heart lies. It's still with Noctis. Always Noctis. ]

You saved my life, Noct and I like to help you in return. You sounded like your old self a minute ago. [ there's hope in Ignis, hope that he can get Noctis' memories back. ] Do you trust me?

[The embrace is warm and familiar, and it makes his heart ache all over again, an echo of I know this bouncing around in his head like a reverberating drum. He's felt this before, he knows it immediately. Ignis has held him in the past.

Tentatively his arms rise up and hold the man back, fingers curling in his shirt. This... feels right. It's where he belongs. His mind doesn't remember yet, but his heart does.]

I... trust you, Iggy.

[How could he not? Even the words themselves feel right as they leave his lips, as if there'd be no reason in the world to not trust this man.]

[ He lets the relief that he feels flood through him. He needed to be sure, there was no doubt, but with Noctis' memories being messed up as they are...

He tightens his grip a little, letting himself enjoy the moment. It wasn't until he had Noctis in his arms that it hit him hard that yes, this is real. Noctis is real. He's alive and well somehow, but Ignis isn't going to question it.

He keeps quiet as he struggles to keep his emotions in check, he doesn't want to break down. Not until he's been able to help Noctis. The other man needs him just as much as he needed Noct.

He pulls back after a bit and puts his forehead against Noctis', praying that this too, sparks something in the other man. ]

[This, too, feels like something he's experienced before, and for a long moment he just sits quietly like that, eyes closed, drinking in the presence of the other man and chasing that feeling. The thoughts creep up on him slowly, visions (memories?), or like a dream that he thinks might be real but can't know for certain until he asks. Fleeting ideas, like a lightbulb about to burn out, flickering on, off. On, off. On, off.

His voice is faint as he speaks up again, wary of saying the wrong thing, of being wrong, of hurting this man who wants him to remember so badly.]

Ignis... you've... always been there, haven't you? Always with me. I can't keep it all in my head, but I can see you with me, every time I looked over, in my memories...

[ He's remembering is what he thinks. It stirs inside Ignis too, that hope growing brighter. ]

I have, we've been through quite the bit together.

[ Remember me.

He pulls his head back a bit this time and he cups Noctis' cheek in his hand. ]

You're starting to remember, aren't you?

[He doesn't like to make promises that he can't guarantee, but... hesitantly he opens his eyes to watch Ignis, tilting his head subtly into the hand on his cheek.]

I... think so. Just- you look different.

[His own hand lifts to trace softly just under the scar over Ignis' eye, examining the shape of his face.]

You've changed, but I remember your face.

[ He smiles a little and he lets his thumb rub at Noctis' cheek. ]

Five years will do that, [ he says softly. ] you've changed too, but I knew it was you by the sound of your voice.

[ Progress and he aims to keep at it. ]

What did you see?

[Noctis thinks for a long moment, trying to grab onto the tail of at least one memory and rein it in, so the flashes of thought can become more detailed, so faces can become voices can become words can become conversation.

What did he see?]

...We were... cooking. It was quiet, and warm... your hands were on mine. Pastry, and... strawberries. [His eyes close again.] Lestallum...

[ Upon hearing that, he lets his free hand grab onto one of Noctis', giving it a squeeze. ]

That's right. [ he searches Noctis' face, giving him an encouraging smile ] The strawberries were the missing ingredient for the pastries.

You brought me something... [ he lets it hang, to see if Noct can recall the Ebony on his own. ]

[He thinks again, then grimaces, his mouth moving as if experiencing an unpleasant taste. Sense memory, perhaps?]

Coffee. It was gross.

[Ah. Hang on.]

I don't like coffee. I remember that, too.

[ He laughs at that. ]

You drank half of can of it. [ He still doesn't understand why Noctis did that other than it's Noct. ]

We took the pastries somewhere. [ Again, he'll let Noctis fill that on in. ]

[Noctis takes a little longer for this one, because the origin of that memory is of a place that hurts to think about, now. Being there had hurt him. Blades and burning lights and dying, he was dying, he was dead. He is dead.

He blinks rapidly, his breath picking up speed, but he manages to say,]

Home. We went home.

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