[It's been a busy few weeks of sporadic painting. It'd been easy to get the base coats done under the pretense of changing out the colours of the house, but now that all the rooms have their colours in place, adding details to the wall is much more time consuming, and therefore complicated when it comes to keeping it a secret from Ignis until the day of his birthday. Just under a week left, and he still needs to add the textures so Ignis will be able to feel it... it'll be close.
The need to rush is what has Noctis in Ignis' room early in the morning, while Ignis is out on the run with Prompto and then doing his rounds for the day. A lengthy chunk of time has given him the opportunity to add a thick coating of blues, greens, and purples all forming together in a nebula design across the length of the mural. It's not perfect, and there are definitely areas where he can spot the flaws, but it's for Ignis, so hopefully he won't mind mistakes in the colours he can't see. Once the paint is dry, Noctis will feel it out himself and see what needs correcting. First the nebula, then the constellations...
He's in the middle of mapping out a set of Astral constellations just above eye level. Ignis should be able to feel them if he reaches up, but for Noctis to draw them properly, he's standing on a chair. He's working on the constellation for Bahamut when it hits him all at once: his mind wanders just a little, just enough to let the cracks in his mind re-open. He thinks about the wall, the purpose for it, the reason it exists in this form, and before he can even realize it a memory tears through his focus like a bullet to the chest--
ardyn. danger. ravus? the threat of death. a challenge. a vow. the ring. that's the answer. if it works- if the kings accept him-
burning, burning, burning
POWER--
When Noctis snaps out of it he's on the floor, head pounding, back sore, the chair knocked to one side. Across the mural, there's a long streak of white marker traveling from the spot where he'd started towards the floor, something to be fixed later. Hopefully before anyone notices. It's the least of his problems right now.
He shifts uncomfortably, sitting up and setting his tools aside, hands wringing together to try and stop them from trembling. His fingers ache from the phantom pains of the memory, his eyes sting. That was... Ignis. The moment he'd put on the ring. It was distinctly not a memory of the kings, which is a surprise, as that was where he'd assumed the memories were coming from. Was it anyone who'd interacted with the ring, then? Did it read their thoughts and intentions when they put it on? That would make sense... it'd chosen Nyx, to save Insomnia, and Ignis, to save the last king of Lucis. It burned Ravus and the Kingsglaive who tried to steal it, or so he'd heard. So that was what happened... and those were Ignis' last thoughts before the ring took his sight away. He'd... felt it all. He's grateful that Ignis had told him ahead of time, or it would have all been a horrible and unpleasant surprise, but hearing it and experiencing it were two very different things.
Noctis winces and leans back against the bed, still sitting on the floor, one hand pressed against his head for a long moment. If he tries to hold it, the memory might overwhelm him again, so he closes his eyes and lets the worst of it slip out of his grasp. It feels... wrong, to carry the memory of another. It's one thing to accept it reluctantly when this world sees fit to force it on them, but when it's in his hands, because of whatever's happening to him... it just grates against his guilt. He's already taken so much from his friends. Now he's taking their private thoughts, too? Frowning at the very idea of this getting worse again, he reaches into his pocket and draws out the ring, staring it down as he turns it between his fingers.]
Why do you keep doing this? [he murmurs, tucking his knees up close to his chest.] Don't I already have everything I need? Keep it to yourself already...
[He doesn't expect an answer, nor does he reach out to the ring to give him one. Even if they cared enough to bother, he wouldn't like what he hears, he's sure of that. He should get up, fix the wall, clean up his gear and find something else to occupy his day, since what he'd had going is a bust now. Instead he curls up around himself, eyes closed, and tries to empty his mind of everything so another memory won't take him. He can't handle another like that right now.
no subject
The need to rush is what has Noctis in Ignis' room early in the morning, while Ignis is out on the run with Prompto and then doing his rounds for the day. A lengthy chunk of time has given him the opportunity to add a thick coating of blues, greens, and purples all forming together in a nebula design across the length of the mural. It's not perfect, and there are definitely areas where he can spot the flaws, but it's for Ignis, so hopefully he won't mind mistakes in the colours he can't see. Once the paint is dry, Noctis will feel it out himself and see what needs correcting. First the nebula, then the constellations...
He's in the middle of mapping out a set of Astral constellations just above eye level. Ignis should be able to feel them if he reaches up, but for Noctis to draw them properly, he's standing on a chair. He's working on the constellation for Bahamut when it hits him all at once: his mind wanders just a little, just enough to let the cracks in his mind re-open. He thinks about the wall, the purpose for it, the reason it exists in this form, and before he can even realize it a memory tears through his focus like a bullet to the chest--
ardyn. danger. ravus? the threat of death. a challenge. a vow. the ring. that's the answer. if it works- if the kings accept him-
burning, burning, burning
POWER--
When Noctis snaps out of it he's on the floor, head pounding, back sore, the chair knocked to one side. Across the mural, there's a long streak of white marker traveling from the spot where he'd started towards the floor, something to be fixed later. Hopefully before anyone notices. It's the least of his problems right now.
He shifts uncomfortably, sitting up and setting his tools aside, hands wringing together to try and stop them from trembling. His fingers ache from the phantom pains of the memory, his eyes sting. That was... Ignis. The moment he'd put on the ring. It was distinctly not a memory of the kings, which is a surprise, as that was where he'd assumed the memories were coming from. Was it anyone who'd interacted with the ring, then? Did it read their thoughts and intentions when they put it on? That would make sense... it'd chosen Nyx, to save Insomnia, and Ignis, to save the last king of Lucis. It burned Ravus and the Kingsglaive who tried to steal it, or so he'd heard. So that was what happened... and those were Ignis' last thoughts before the ring took his sight away. He'd... felt it all. He's grateful that Ignis had told him ahead of time, or it would have all been a horrible and unpleasant surprise, but hearing it and experiencing it were two very different things.
Noctis winces and leans back against the bed, still sitting on the floor, one hand pressed against his head for a long moment. If he tries to hold it, the memory might overwhelm him again, so he closes his eyes and lets the worst of it slip out of his grasp. It feels... wrong, to carry the memory of another. It's one thing to accept it reluctantly when this world sees fit to force it on them, but when it's in his hands, because of whatever's happening to him... it just grates against his guilt. He's already taken so much from his friends. Now he's taking their private thoughts, too? Frowning at the very idea of this getting worse again, he reaches into his pocket and draws out the ring, staring it down as he turns it between his fingers.]
Why do you keep doing this? [he murmurs, tucking his knees up close to his chest.] Don't I already have everything I need? Keep it to yourself already...
[He doesn't expect an answer, nor does he reach out to the ring to give him one. Even if they cared enough to bother, he wouldn't like what he hears, he's sure of that. He should get up, fix the wall, clean up his gear and find something else to occupy his day, since what he'd had going is a bust now. Instead he curls up around himself, eyes closed, and tries to empty his mind of everything so another memory won't take him. He can't handle another like that right now.
Are they... getting more frequent...?]