![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Hugtopia Contact Post
| voice | text | video | action |
( NSFW contact post )
( original contact post )
| voice | text | video | action |
( NSFW contact post )
( original contact post )
| voice | text | video | action |
( NSFW contact post )
( original contact post )
no subject
He exhales a held breath after a long silence, tilting his head to bump it against hers. What do you want.]
I wanna stop feeling like this... but there's no easy fix for it.
[He can't magically make himself un-hurt, he can't roll back the damage dealt on either side, he can't force an apology for the right thing. He... should work on wanting something a little more realistic.]
no subject
Perhaps... empathizing works. A little pain shared, to know she's been there, too. ]
Like... knives, doesn't it? Losing those lights.
[ ... ]
The greatest hardship of all is.... forgiving the guilt of allowing such lights to slip from one's hands, especially when it had been beyond one's power to keep them, and only being able to watch them from afar.
[ Like little stars, they become, beacons upon the horizon, bright and pure, but untouchable as the sky turns. Inspiring, but only in hearts and memories. ] They're still there, Noct. All of them.
no subject
Still there, but... it feels kind of like a different sky.
[An ironic metaphor, considering the subject. Era, seeking to excise herself from the Caelum family. Like a star drifting out of the sky. It's a stupid thought, of course. It's... not like they can't ever be friends again, probably. Her not being family doesn't mean they're forbidden from crossing paths. It's just- different. A new constellation, and he doesn't know the parts of it yet. Whatever lines she draws for herself, he... can deal with it.]
Sorry... I know what you're trying to say, and I get it. Just... I started this, I think. I didn't mean to, but it happened, and... you know me.
[He holds on to guilt a lot. It's hard not to.]
no subject
I’m.... not so sure about that. [ She gently doubts, not that because she believes he’s lying, but because she knows he can misplace the blame onto himself. That guilt and blame go hand in hand, and he shoulders so much. ] You should know, Noct, that the cause of your hurt... it’s not you. Or how this started.
[ She’s also not quite sure what he means by him starting anything. Nevertheless, she automatically takes his side against the self-blame that’s so neatly ingrained.
To say nothing of that she suspects she’s the root cause of this. ]
no subject
I said... I wanted my family to be whole. I didn't even think about it, and I didn't mean what she thought. But ever since then she's talked about leaving, or not belonging in it, or... [He lifts his shoulders in a reluctant shrug. Well, she's done it, more or less.] How is that not on me?
[It... shouldn't be. Deep down, he knows that. The argument they'd shared had been broken on multiple levels, with issues he lacks the expertise to analyze but can recognize it as wrong. Still, still. This fight had a catalyst, and it started with his inability to let her set the terms of how they all move forward. Or... something. Right?]
no subject
Noct... This sort of thing— it’s really hurting you.
[ But if Era says she wants to excise herself from a family.... She knows that she has that right, and it’s already been established that when one sees another as family, that person doesn’t need to view them the same way. ]
A family. A real one... You shouldn’t have to tolerate being harmed by them. You can ask to not be hurt. You can have that. [ She knows he’s lenient with it, she knows she wants to hold all the lights within the palms of his hands before they fall, especially if he’s never had a solid foundation of a family beneath his feet.
...She’s not one to talk. What she’s learned of what makes a family family, she’s pieced together from experiences in her own world with mostly those she’s had in Havenwell. However, she knows that what she’s seeing here in him isn’t right, but damaging. He keeps what he has close because that’s all he has, and as far as she knows never has he pushed another away himself. But if he’s simultaneously hurt by them... ]
no subject
[He should agree. He should, he knows he should, what she's saying sounds sensible. No one should be okay with being hurt. Even if it's what Era needs for herself, even if he pushed her into that corner (right?), it doesn't have to be okay, except-
He hesitates.
It doesn't apply to him. It's right, it makes sense, but for him, normal rules don't apply, do they? He's hurt people too, selfishly, he's whined or disappointed them or been ignorant to their pain, he's gotten so many blessings he doesn't deserve at the expense of others and now that sunk cost has come calling-
His heart rate picks up, beating like a hammer in his chest.
There's so many instances of it throughout his life, moments he could have done better, been more supportive. Instead of longing for his father's attention or begrudging broken promises, he could have stepped up and helped with more of his burdens. Instead of grieving only for himself, he could have comforted the others who mourned the city when it fell. Instead of shutting everyone out, he could have helped Ignis, saved Prompto, listened to Gladio. Back in Insomnia he wasted countless hours playing games that in the end don't matter to anyone, won't help the world or those who live in it. (Why had he gone fishing so often? Did people die whom he could have saved when he was fishing?) And here, he's definitely not doing enough, if he doesn't step up everyone will leave, there's no obligation to the crown anymore-
He can't breathe.
He can feel that strange pressure at the back of his mind again, weighing down on him, smothering his thoughts. Selfish, selfish, reflect on your actions, stop being distracted by your own problems and think about someone else. Stop making them worry, you can fix this-]
...I can't-
[He can't breathe. He's drowning and he can't breathe.]
no subject
His words fail him, however, and she watches in stalled time as his expression shifts, pales, then cracks before her very eyes, as if instead of gently unraveling what he's feeling, it's all barreling over him at once. He's looking at her, but it's as if he's not seeing anything at all.
Moments ago, she had contemplated a distraction versus talking of his feelings further, over which she had decided to empathize, believing that he only needed encouragement to speak, that this was good. Now, she almost immediately regrets her decision. The pain she sees on his face is more visceral than any expression he's ever worn-- more defeated than when he had returned after re-awakening from his slumber, more wrought than when he had seen the vision of his fate first-hand, struck with dread like when an intrusive memory had bombarded him, and just as grave and gaunt at the moment of his almost-death in her arms....
Something is holding him, gripping him, choking him. ]
....Noct. [ She calls his name softly, a whisper intended for him and only him, but with firmness which she hopes will at least get him to focus back on her, instead of whatever might be plaguing him. She shifts where she's sitting so that she's more in front of him, ignoring the paint that smears around them or in his hands. One of her hands goes to his chest, palm steadily feeling the racing heartbeat beneath. (Is it another memory, so graciously given to him by the Ring or the Crystal? Is it something else, the Ring again maybe, that with just a flutter of him using it can make him writhe? Or is it the Fetter again?) ] Noct... I'm here.
[ Her other hand, the one that had been on his shoulder, lifts to the nape of his neck and then to the back of his head, bringing him towards her.
She doesn't embrace him, for fear of smothering him.
Instead, she does what she did when they had first met: foreheads, pressing to each other, her hand on his chest, and the syncing of their breaths. She adds one more aspect to it this time, though, and that is to bring one of his paint-covered hands to her chest in return, too, just to the side of her crystal. It's something physical, tactile, real and there, so that beneath his palm he might feel the rise and fall of inhales and exhales, cues for him to pick up upon. ]
With me. [ She encourages, keeping her tone calmed, although she cannot help the soft plead in her voice, the sad hope that she can reach him... Reach him, because whatever's holding him is terrifying him, blinding him in this moment. She can ask what he's feeling later; right now she wants him to know that she's with him. And she waits for it, she tires and tries to encourage it out of him no matter how long or how many times it might take, her fingers petting through his hair as she keeps their forehead together. Just one, all she needs is one.
If she gets at least one steadier breath from him, she'll say it again. ]
Again, with me. With me.
no subject
He doesn't chase that thought too far, though. Or rather, he's not able to- the moment he tries her words are echoed again and he refocuses, breathing in. Breathing out. Steadier now, getting better with every gasp until it hardly resembles where he'd started. He tries not to let himself feel too much shame about how long it takes to get there.
When he feels somewhat more normal, or at least able to get a few words out, his eyes flutter and he looks down, not at his lap like before but his hand, the one resting against her chest, watching the rise and fall of it, synchronized with his own. The way she moves with him is comforting, it grounds him even further, helps him tentatively reach towards the next step.]
...Can we go? [His voice is a whisper, eyes fixed on the crystal next to his fingers.] Inside?
[It's a quiet plea, hopeful but hesitant, not wanting to impose. He has mixed feelings about being there sometimes, even with how different it is from his own, but suddenly it's the only thing he can think to ask for. Elysium... her home... it's beautiful. Peaceful, the quiet broken only by the occasional ringing of a distant bell. No one else but them around. Away from all of these troubles, away from the fighting and the anger and the guilt, away from his heart that won't stop racing.]
no subject
It will be like all the other times he's entered before, a brief taking of consciousness, then him awakening to a realm of indiscernible time, late spring and early summer indistinguishable from each other, soft grass and white weed-flowers beneath, and clear, cloudless skies above. Eternal, preserved, and constant, and unaffected by all else: this is the memory of Elysium, where only souls might enter.
A gentle breeze, its kiss upon his cheek warm, may tickle him to wakefulness. Or maybe it's familiar fingers dusting at his bangs, brushing them back, that will rouse him. Regardless, he'll see the singular tree, full of ripe leaves and life, upon the hill above them and her smiling down at him. The bell tolls solemnly in the distance, the only mark of time passing at all.
But they are not pressed for time.
Here, it is peaceful, and that peace is unwavering. If she can bring just a moment of its peace to him... Well, he's here.
While his head is in her lap, her palm still remains upon his chest. ] One more time.
no subject
He's grateful, of course; he did need this it turns out, an escape from the constricting nature of his human body, the room, the city itself. A temporary balm, he knows, and this isn't somewhere he can hide forever. Still, it's... nice. Soothing. Some corner of his heart had wanted to see a real sky again, even in a dream.
It takes a bit before he trusts his voice again, simple but thick with emotion that's difficult to define. Grief, weariness, relief.]
...Thanks...
no subject
He looks... exhausted, but it's of no effort on her part to reply with this, a steadily spoken-- ] Always. [ --A promise, to accept doing anything for him, unconditionally, and to never grow tired of helping him. To help, not to hurt.
She wants him to talk, only, she's not so sure how to open. She's been through enough battles, traveled with a militia before to know that at times, soldiers would be gripped by bouts such as what Noctis has just experienced. For now, she's relieved that he's not currently consumed, which just leads to her wondering... how much he has been leaving his past wounds to fester, and how this current lesion from Era ripped it all open.
She stands by what she says. He can want to not be hurt. He can want for better.
"How do you deal with this? It's... kind of infuriating." She gets the feeling that he's far more frustrated and impatient with himself, than whatever he believes she should feel about him. ]
Always, Noct. I've said before, and I'll say it again. I'm here for you. [ In this moment, it doesn't seem like quite enough, though. It never seems that way. She's fighting against hardship after hardship that befalls him-- or supporting him. But it's he who bears the brunt of the battles and the gore of conflict each and every time. ]
no subject
"You can ask to not be hurt."
I can't, he'd said, and thought, in return. The thought had rushed through his mind, harsh and irrational, and he'd been unable to fight it at all. He couldn't ignore the feeling that his pain was a small price to pay for the happiness of others, that many have sacrificed so much already, for him or for others around them. His own pain is supposed to be good, he thought, because it means someone else isn't carrying it for him. Like what Ardyn does for him sometimes- draws out the ache of his old injuries, bearing it for a little while. It feels good at the time but he hates it, being that weak, being unable to carry his own burden as he always had. It isn't... fair.
When did he start thinking like this? He'd grown up with it, to an extent, hardly questioned it since childhood. "You learned to cope with the disappointment — by pretending you didn’t care," Carbuncle told him once, years ago, when his loneliness and fear of broken promises had slowly made him more closed off and distant. (His pain became irrelevant in light of the responsibility carried by others, and the one looming in his future.) "Are you a man of royal blood or not?" Gladio had asked of him, when he'd struggled with the pain inflicted on him by the gods and the weight of the crown he'd feared his whole life. (He is, he knows, but why does his humanity have to come with such conditions attached?) "I believe you understand quite well, King of Kings," Era reminded him, one more dagger sunken deep amidst the others she'd left in his heart that day. (What he wants doesn't matter. Hopes and dreams and even the tiniest wishes of a child were set aside for the good of all instead of one. That's- normal.)
This feeling is nothing new, but... has it always been this bad? He can't tell if the weight of it has changed or his perspective has gotten worse. It isn't a thing he's let himself ponder very much. Easier to bury it to avoid spreading that hurt to other people. Only problem is that here, and now, it's become an inevitability if he can't handle it alone. It's brought him here, and although Pyra promises always this isn't fair to her, either.
If she allows it, he's quiet like this for several minutes, searching for serenity and the words he might find within himself to explain what just happened, until,]
I can't... let my problems make life worse for them. I have to be better for them, or I owe it to them, or... it won't matter in the long run, anyway. [He hesitates, then exhales a shaky breath, as if he can't believe his own words.] That's... what I thought.
no subject
Exchanging the word "problem" for "pain" makes his words sound worse: I can't let my suffering make life worse for them, as if-- ] As if... others' happiness is worth more than yours.
[ He can choose with whom or when to share his burdens, he can choose how much to share, or to hold off with sharing when another might be hurt instead-- that all is fair, and it requires tact, timing, and wisdom. But to dismiss his suffering altogether because he owes being strong for, better for, and not burdening others he's been ingrained to protect? And, Architect, does she understand that, empathizes with such sentiments, she knows them well herself enough to be a hypocrite. But for him, and seeing how this hurts him--
Ingrained, because he is royalty, because he has a fate and prophecy attached to him, and because-- of him. Because he needs to be strong, because he wants to protect others, because this is the standard of strong and brave to him, giving himself up for others, taking the fall, or otherwise pushing his own pain away for one reason or another, moving forward, keeping others close to him even if they hurt him, and wanting to help, even at the cost of himself.
Even if the world or gods hadn't demanded it of him, he would still give himself entirely to it. He is just that sort of person.
For how long has he dismissed himself? A year since she's known him, and certainly even longer throughout his life. ] When you are hurt, Noct... it matters.
no subject
His dad would have been happier spending time with his wife and child, but instead he spent countless hours in council meetings, sitting the throne, defending their citizens. Gladio would surely have rather followed his own dreams than stay tethered to a brat he barely tolerated when they were kids, sworn to pay the ultimate price for his king if it was required of him. Luna... she would have been happy to travel and help others at her own pace, he's sure, but she let the Astrals carve pieces of her life away for his sake, had died granting her blessing to the man who murdered her.
All those sacrifices, made for him. What right does he have not to return his own sacrifices in kind and then some? The king must sacrifice for all.
"You think I like the idea of people sacrificing themselves for me, one after the other?" He'd argued that to Gladio in Cartanica, and the reply he'd gotten was angry, frustrated by yet another failure on his part. "I thought you’d accepted your duty." As if his duty had to include the lives lost for his own benefit. As if it was a foregone conclusion that people were meant for death the way he was meant for the throne.
The throne he'd never wanted. The throne he'll never seat.
I'm not...
...I'm not king, here.]
I don't know the answer, [he whispers tentatively.] I don't know how to avoid getting hurt when it'll hurt them instead.
[This is... easier. It hurts, but the guilt isn't as bad.]
no subject
Those with such self-sacrificial natures or those who put others before them, like Noctis, end up the ones neglecting themselves, internally hurting instead. What pain has been left inside has been rotting, hollowing him out like burrowed-through birch. She sees it in the weariness of his expression. ]
Remember what you said to me, not too long ago? About defending myself. [ "You're not a tool, or a weapon, or whatever. People can say what they want. They can think and feel. They can defend themselves when someone's attacking them. And they can speak up when they notice something's wrong. If you don't let yourself do all of that then you're acting like you're less than they are." ] You said that because... you didn't wish to see me hurt, didn't you?
[ There's a quiet, brief smile there as she recalls the memory-- betraying her fondness of it, how it reassured her, helped her, even if it now guilts her to view it in such a light when she probably should have asked him of his feelings then and not now. Her palm adjusts in his, spreading out his fingers to stretch them, then curling hers between once more. ]
It seems that... for all that the prophecy says you are the Chosen, or that your blood makes you royal [ Or special, or the exception, or any other iteration-- things that could have very well inflated his ego to insufferable levels... Instead, it's had the complete opposite effect.
His words back then... It dawns on her now (too late) that he could have, should have been speaking of himself, when he had been so freshly carrying a new, deep wound. ]
Just how long you've been living thinking yourself as less than everyone else?
no subject
[He winces, knowing what she means. It wasn't so long ago that he'd forget the sentiment behind his own words. They'd been so easy to say, such a simple, firm statement of fact: that she isn't worth less, that she doesn't have to prove herself to anyone. It's easy to see her intent now, and the hypocrisy behind what he'd said to her versus what he says of himself. "The rules are different for me" wouldn't be an acceptable answer here, either. Nor does it answer the question she'd asked.
How long...?]
...I don't know.
[His mumble is reluctant, but honest. If he were to look back he can't draw a line between then and now; the "then" is nebulous, somewhere between childhood and when he'd awoken here after Bahamut handed down his fate to him and the Crystal began to drench him in its power whether he wanted it or not. He knows that the pressure at the back of his mind is newer, that presence of something big and frightful he'd mentioned to Ardyn months ago when the memories of the ring were still unexplained. He knows it seems to rouse itself more when he feels content than when he's distressed, and that's concerning but could just be a coincidence. He knows that living happily has a chance of making it harder to say goodbye to this life, and the one he'd been living back home. Maybe that's why the world becomes a hellscape while he's sleeping- fate wants to leave no chance for him to turn back.
That's... depressing, that he might be so unreliable. He closes his eyes, squashing that train of thought before he can chase it down another sinkhole he can't escape from. He's important in the grand scheme of things, but not that important.
Back to the question. How long.]
I don't know if it was ever... a thought like that. More like an instinct. Like- I know I had an easy life, most of the time. I got away with a lot I shouldn't have been able to. But I didn't get what I really wanted, either... I had to learn how to be okay with that, because there was more important stuff going on. Isn't that normal...?
no subject
"More important stuff going on" would only reinforce viewing himself as less, what with those more important things being the war or duty, she presumes. Or, literally anyone else he'd place above himself regardless as his role as Chosen to protect. In light of all the conflict that surrounds his world and his upbringing, there wouldn't be enough time for him.
What he wanted in general, then, was-- is-- to not be hurt. Coping by thinking he was less served its purpose in his world, but in this one, that tool he's developed in order to push onward has revealed its claws. ]
If it's so painful to accept that you're worth not hurting or that you can want for better [ In a world away from his own, even. ] Then.... No, Noct. No. [ She shakes her head, looking down at him sadly. ]
I think that-- that 'normal' for you... It was just surviving as best as you knew how.
no subject
It's... weird to think of it as surviving. Makes it sound like I struggled just to live, but... I had everything handed to me up until the end.
[Things had been... difficult, the final few months in Eos. ...Okay, things had been a nightmare more often than not. But it was still- they'd gotten by okay. As far as he knows none of the others had reached a breaking point like this (right?) so what's his problem?]
During the fight with Era, she kept saying kind of similar stuff... not the same, but like- who she is, what she deserves versus what she wants, that sort of thing. I didn't like hearing that about her. [His eyes flit briefly up to meet hers, then away again.] Any more than you like hearing this, I think.
["The sole reason I exist is for others." He'd never have phrased it like that, but what he's been saying toes an uncomfortably similar line. If the needs of others come before his own, if his life exists only to be laid down for the world, if he downplays everything like it isn't affecting him when he clearly had, like- what, a panic attack because she told him it was okay to not let them hurt him? Aside from semantics what's the difference between admitting one and feeling the other? And what about how Pyra just quietly accepts whatever is thrown at her with little more than a smile, even if what's being thrown is shit she doesn't deserve? She doesn't, she just places them over her own comfort, but he'd tried to get her to stop because it's wrong how she lets them hurt her.
....
They're all hypocrites, aren't they.]
no subject
It's very true: she doesn't like how he was hurt, and she doesn't like how he seems to accept it, as if he's simply been conditioned to. A breaking point had been today, clearly outlining that how he survives with this suffering, or how he copes and accepts that pain, doesn't work. Instead, it harms, and it's only today that she's seen it completely choke him.
There should be something better for him. She wants it to be better for him, she wants who he chooses as family to be better to him, but how...? ]
What or who... [ She whispers, breathlessly as if struggling, or perhaps in disbelief. ] is telling you that you deserve... this?
[ All this pain, that this is something he has to accept? ]
no subject
How long.]
I don't... think anyone's told me. [He can't put a specific name or a face to the words. They're just... there, sometimes. Reminding him. The closest he can think of is-] Bahamut... when he explained my fate. I know he meant sacrificed as in dying for Eos, but... maybe I took it too hard.
[Is he just- literally sacrificing whatever he's physically and mentally capable of when the situation occurs? He's felt undeniably unbalanced since returning from the Crystal, like he wasn't finished or shouldn't be here, but he's resisted that feeling at every turn as it can't be helped. The world will wait for him, the Crystal has to. He has no power to return, and he doesn't... want to. He's happy here.
But... what if the memories do come when he's too happy, because he's not meant to be and the gods know it.
They'd started off so innocent and innocuous; a sewn button, a baked pie. But then he'd seen Ardyn - Izunia - trapped in the immortal daemon form and hurting the world as he waits for his final release. He'd seen Ignis, risking his life with the ring to save Noct when he should have worried for himself. He remembered the early days of Somnus and Ardyn that had started them all on this dark path. They've getting worse. And he's handling it, he's fine, it's annoying, just...
His fingers tighten around hers.]
Maybe it's them. Or maybe it's just... me.
[Maybe he's just trying to point fingers at anything besides the grave he dug for himself, because if it's the Crystal or the gods then it can't be fixed, but if it's him then he has to take responsibility.]
no subject
He had been fearful, upset, panicked moments ago, drowning as she guided him to breathe-- all from the idea of losing someone who had hurt him, from the idea that he can want for better, the idea that he shouldn't be hurt. He had this sort of reaction to this, instead of months ago when he had almost died in her arms-- and even before then, when he had witnessed his death in the future to come. Losing others is far worse to him than losing his own life. Being hurt himself is far less than hurting others. And so, he accepts being hurt.
Shamefully, it's taken her a year for her to realize the actual extent at which this claws at him. A whole year, when the signs were there...
Pyra leans over him, scooting back some so that she might bend a little more to have her arms crossed over his chest, dipping her head to his shoulder from behind. Before speaking any more, there she whispers, wanting to just hold him, and repeat this-- ] I love you, Noct.
[ --Because has she said it today? This very same morning, perhaps, but not since then, and so this is as good a time as any. She can't undo his inner turmoil, but she can try to understand and try to help and try to be there for him, even though it seems that month after month after month, something terrible befalls him, something hurts him, or someone hurts him. With so much sorrow hitting him, it really would seem as if he's not meant to be happy, because the future deems otherwise.
But she's here to battle and believe each and every time that it doesn't have to be this way for him. ] I love you, and... listen, please. You don't deserve to be hurt.
no subject
He can't even argue with the rest of it.]
I don't think it's ever really been about what I deserve.
[He was able to come to the conclusion, months ago and through a lot of struggling - and, blessedly, with her help yet again - that he's allowed to want to live, despite all expectations to the contrary. That he... deserves the life he's able to live in the time he has. He's not sure why that's not enough to quell the doubts he's been carrying, but they're two different trains of thought- living does not mean getting everything he wants out of life. It doesn't mean giving up everything, either. The balance is what's difficult.
Something's itching at the corner of his consciousness, like a gentle digging of claws on his soul. Familiar. His brows furrow, thinking for a long moment, and then murmurs,]
Will... you let Carbuncle in?
no subject
Carbuncle is welcome.
[ While she had brought him into the crystal, in reality she had lifted him to their room for privacy, where now he slumbers with his head upon her lap as she repeats the same motion of her fingers tenderly sifting through his hair.
She'll wait to feel Carbuncle's presence, and then gesture to the crystal upon her chest. ]
no subject
Within the crystal Carbuncle appears in a flash of multicoloured light, fully visible to the both of them at last, and immediately climbs onto Noct's lap again. In its mouth is Noct's phone, which it deposits with a quiet chirp, and it buzzes against his chest when he retrieves it.
👋 😟 ]
Hey... hey, buddy. I didn't know that would actually work.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)