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[ It's his birthday, but there's one less person in their household with whom to celebrate it. Wherever Noctis may be, Pyra finds him, and she approaches quietly. When close enough, her arms slip over his shoulders to his front, leaning forward to kiss him atop of his head. ]

Hey, you. I heard it's someone's birthday today.

[He's being a couch potato today, as is deserved, sitting on the actual couch and fiddling with his communicator. Well, it looks like he is. By the time she finds him he hasn't touched the screen to change anything for about ten minutes straight, just staring aimlessly, lost in thought.

He starts a little as she hugs him from behind, tilting his head upwards to face her.]

Ah... who told you that?

[Look, he's trying to joke! He's fine. He's definitely not dying a little inside.]

Oh… Just a little, long-eared messenger. [ A long time ago.

She leans in, kissing him upon his cheek. Pyra lingers close to him, clasping her hands together over his chest. She can ask how he’s doing, what he wants to do, if he wants to talk, if he wants a distraction, but she wants to make the choice completely his. It’s his birthday… but Ignis has left. ]

What do you need?

Was thinking maybe a coma might do me some good.

[His tone is dry, obviously not serious, a dark sort of humour that the Caelums seem to love. He does pause and give her question actual thought, though, because she deserves that much from him. His hands drop the communicator into his lap and slide up to curl around hers, holding her as he ponders his answer.]

Can we go to Elysium? [is his mumble, finally.] I don't wanna be here anymore.

[Maybe it's cowardly, to want to escape this space that is suddenly too empty, even with four people still living in it. Maybe it's simply a silly fantasy, because entering her crystal isn't going anywhere, his body will remain. Still... he doesn't want to sit here expecting Ignis to turn the corner and keep being disappointed when it never happens. He doesn't want to look at the kitchen and keep noticing the absence of his oldest friend. Ignis isn't in Elysium, so to Elysium is where he'll go, if she's willing. Just for a while.]

Of course.

[ He's welcome anytime, and truthfully? Elysium is a little less lonely when he's there. This time, he'll come not for the purpose of visiting her (or Mythra), but to be away from the world they're in currently, one with green fields and endless blue skies.

Pyra's hand slips from his chest and his touch and moves around to the front of the couch, sitting down beside him. From there, she takes his hand in the both of hers and guides his touch to the center of her crystal.

Elysium is unchanged from memory, divorced from time. He'll awaken upon the hill, shaded by the solitary tree above. When he stirs, his head rested upon her lap, Pyra glances down at him lovingly.

The world takes away what it can give. Perhaps he's had longer time with Ignis within Havenwell than he would have had in his own world; and Ignis, with him. Still, that won't ease the sting of someone leaving. She's sorry he's gone. She's sorry that one less member of their family is here.

Her fingers are woven lazily within his hair. She smiles, teasing: ]

Oh. I think I see a thread of gray.

[His posture is more relaxed almost immediately, shoulders slumping at her thigh, the crease in his brow smoothing out beneath her hand. Away from the familiar home they've made together, the scents and scenery of a simple life and a found family, the loss of someone he cares for so dearly is distant enough that he won't be reminded with every turn of his head. He smiles back at her, dim and small but genuine in its gratefulness, before his gaze shifts towards the sky.]

Better dye my hair again, I'll never hear the end of it.

[It's probably in jest, but with all the stress he's endured the last few years, on top of the ring, he wouldn't even be surprised to find it actually happen. How early did his father start finding grey hairs?]

[ It seems he's responding well. A lighter distraction can help ease him before he's ready to talk, if he wants to talk. Until then, she'll continue this lighter banter. ]

"Again"? There was a different time you dyed your hair?

[ Said with the playful tone of do tell. ]

Just the one time we did ours together. [He's not sure how much that counts, since it had been so brief and for something silly rather than a real change in looks.] Though earlier in the month I did get rainbow'd with one of those guns.

[ She exhales a thought 'hm', continuing to brush her fingers through his hair. ]

I'm surprised anything managed to strike you.

[ What with his phasing abilities. ]

Guns are hard to warp with.

[And maybe he'd been a little too overconfident that day.]

[ Her fingers brush through his hair, repeating the motion from before. How often has she done this? Far too many times, whether he's been happy or sad, needing a distraction or not. ]

Did you keep them? Maybe they can be used them for some sort of art project or... new mural.

[ He had made a mural for Ignis once, too. It's still in their home. ]

[He sounds almost like he could fall asleep like this, though he'd rather not. His intention isn't to use her as an escape (though, guiltily, he feels like is using this place and by proxy her, a little); going to Elysium means spending time with her or Mythra, and it isn't his intention to change that, even if he's poor company in times like this.]

Dunno. We could try it out, I guess. At least before the month's up, just to see.

[Since most of the time the effects run out before the turnover of one month to the next, he doesn't have high expectations of it working beyond the next day or so. He really won't be in the mood for it today... maybe tomorrow.]

Murals are often used to honor or remember something. [ Next question. ]

This particular birthday of yours... is it something you want to remember? [ Birthdays come and go. Not all of them have to be memorable, the more one has them; however, his in this world are all on borrowed time, and he only has so many.

Birthdays are celebratory occasions, but this day will also be closely tied to when one of his greatest friends, and family member, has left. That makes it bittersweet. ]

Mm... my birthdays are usually kind of a mixed bag.

[Sometimes they're good. Last year was nice, just a comfortable gathering of friends. And sometimes they're a reminder of everything he's born to be and born to lose, like the political events back home where he's more of a holiday than a person to celebrate. This one's worse, even if he knows he'll see Ignis again. (Even if Ignis will never see him again.) The moments they have here are borrowed, extra gifts when a decade-long separation awaits them back home. He's lucky to have had them with him for so long. He knows, he knows that, but...]

I think this year, I'd rather forget. Got enough bad memories to carry around with me.

[Not just his own, either. And she knows about that already.]

[ As wishful as the idea is, there's no truly forgetting something like a particularly bad birthday, much less a loved one leaving. She knows that's not how it works, but so too does she know that forcing levity is just as harmful.

So, for just this moment, she wants to ]

I miss him already.

[ And if she misses him and feels hurt, it must been much harder on Noctis (and Prompto, especially). She's hoping that her confessing this will help Noctis feel more comfortable to do the same. ]

[His response is a harsh intake of breath, a long quiet, then a slow, shaky exhale.]

...Yeah. [Another pause, and then,] It was... waking up, I think. I didn't smell the coffee. It didn't hit me right away, but... I knew something was wrong.

[Ignis rarely goes far without coffee, especially with Ebony available in their replicator. For him not to make it in the morning puts the whole world off-kilter. Noctis is of half a mind to start drinking it himself, even if he hates it.]

[ Such a simple thing, the smell of his coffee in the morning, now gone. It’s heartbreaking to hear the loss worded like that.

She tips her head, looking down at him, and her fingers lightly run over his scalp, as if she could encourage him to say more. ]

[He's quiet again for a little bit, breathing in, out, letting her touch soothe the stress right out of his soul. This place isn't real, but the air feels cleaner, kinder. The grass is soft, and her hands feel nice.

His heart hurts.]

He did... so much for me. You ever feel like you owe somebody more than you could ever repay, and you can't because they wouldn't want you to think of it like a debt? But you wish you could, because they gave up... too much.

[He thinks a lot about the vision he'd received, the memory of Ignis putting on the ring, ready to give up his eyes, his life, everything for Noctis who that very morning had been whining about something stupid and inconsequential for no reason at all. He'd done it without hesitating. Who does that?]

[ She can, and she can't relate. Can, because she feels as if Addam had given her so much, and there's no way she could repay him. Can't, because-- wasn't she the one who took all of what he could have had from him, all of his freedom? It hadn't been his choice.

With Ignis... from what she knows of their relationship, it was his choice. Someone like that, who gives and gives and gives. But she knows about that want to give one's all to another, too, without a thought of whatever they might receive in return. It's love. However, she doesn't like how Noctis sounds guilty, perhaps, in his tone, for not giving back.

Carefully, Pyra presses back against that tone. ] What he gave to you... he gave freely, didn't he? [ His time, she assumes; his company, his advice. ]

He did. I can't even say that I wish he hadn't.

[Through Ignis' eyes, he'd seen Izunia ready to kill him. Maybe he was bluffing - Ardyn here is of the belief that his full daemon self is seeking an end of sorts, in his own grim, horrible way - but maybe he wasn't. Maybe he'd have been content to end the bloodline on his own terms, sever the Lucian ties to Bahamut and doom the world to a slow, lingering death. Maybe he wanted to rule an empty world of darkness and live forever alone in that hollow victory. Maybe he was testing the gods or didn't care. Maybe he wasn't thinking at all.

The point is, they couldn't risk it. Ignis wasn't thinking about prophecy or fate or what the gods wanted. Ignis was watching Ardyn threaten someone he loved and he made a choice. Noctis has to think of the prophecy, he has to acknowledge that his life, brief as it might be going forward, is worth the boon Ignis paid to save it, as a price to bring back the dawn. His role is a bartering token that can't be exchanged for any other. Ignis' eyes, compared to the rest of the world, is a small cost for his guaranteed safety. He can't deny that.

But he wishes, oh he wishes. He'd trade his eyes for Ignis, if the world and the gods and the ring hadn't already laid their claim. He'd trade so much for Ignis, for the guys, for Luna. For so many loved ones.

(Too many lights. They're falling, falling, and he can't keep them with him. He remembers. He has to let them go.)]

I don't know what I'd change, if I could go back. He's been with me through everything, even when I was too messed up to notice. I just- I keep thinking, 'I wish we had more'. More everything. I'm so...

[...selfish, he almost says, but he stops himself. It's not selfish, they'd had that conversation already. To want to be with the ones you love, to long for their company, their words, their smiles and the comfort of their touch. Love isn't meant to be selfish.]

I'm so tired, [he says instead. Tired of losing people.]

[ More everything. More time, more time with loved ones, more-- Yes, that's simply it. More everything: what a succinct way to put it, and she's glad, on some level, that he's able to admit to that wish. ]

....I know you are. [ She says, quiet. ] I can see it in your expression. [ Loss effects him as greatly as any other. He feels it strongly, and in a world like this, where loved ones come and go, return and forget, then perhaps leave again, it's difficult to persevere.

But she has seen him persevere. When Ignis left the first time, when Luna left; and when Ignis returned, Noctis had made the most of the opportunity that time, too. It isn't as if their time here had been wasted--... but as he implies, it isn't ever enough. Such is love. ]

You know.

I'm not quite sure that he'd want to change anything, either, of all the time you had with him. [ She can't speak for Ignis, but she can speak as someone who loves Noctis, too. ] But you have to forgive yourself, for not having more. [ Not that it is his fault at all, but the perception of not doing enough, giving back enough, or having enough time with Ignis is clearly effecting him. ]

[He purses his lips at that, gaze shifting away. She's probably right- about both. Ignis isn't the type to linger on too many regrets, at least not for his own actions. He embodied the Lucian pledge of forging ahead and never looking back better than he ever has. On the other hand, he kind of hated those words. Not fully, of course. They seem so ingrained in the history of their line, practically ancestral, and more importantly they're his father's words. But the idea of never looking back feels too cold, like the past doesn't matter. It does. It matters so much. Even if that isn't the heart of what it means, he still loathes the implication.

He can forge ahead. But if he can't look back, he won't see all the hands pushing him forward, supporting him from behind. That part's important, too. And as for forgiveness...]

I'm still... figuring that part out. Never been much good at it.

[The criticism of others can sting, even when he tries his best to shrug it off. But it only hurts because it often echoes what he's thought of himself already, like his broken bones are shown clear through transparent flesh. Back home, his screw-ups felt more harsh because they affected more people, in the grant scheme of things- wrong calls as a prince meant more than just him could get hurt. Here, though, he only has to answer to himself, and... he's his own worst critic.]

[ Accepting that he might not ever have enough time with those he loves might sound unfair, or worse: cruel. He has so little time left. But him blaming himself for what his past self couldn't see, know, or do with what information he has now, to make up for whatever guilty pain plagues his mind, is equally cruel unto himself. There's no easy answer, but she knows that peace must be obtainable, to some degree. It's better than believing turmoil is all there is, or living in it.

Her thought cause her hand to drift from his scalp to his cheek, pressing her palm against it softly. ]

It's not your fault.

[ Ignis leaving. Noctis not spending more time with him. Noctis not giving more "in return" to Ignis. None of that is his fault. ]

[He swallows. It should be easy. Shouldn't it? Just four words, one simple recognition of truth. She'd handed them to him. It's not your fault. Nothing he might have done differently could change what happened, as much as he'd wish it to be so. The power of the old kings had taken all of his strength away, leaving him helpless. It's not his fault that... Izunia chose to kill Luna, and he couldn't stop it. It's not his fault that Ignis protected him when he was unconscious. It's not his fault that any of his family comes and goes and that all their reunions are meant to end too soon. It's not his fault that he can't hold all those lights- no one's hands are that big, or that strong. He's allowed to be weaker than his own expectations. It's not his fault.

He wants to believe it. He wants to believe it so, so badly. That there are things he can't control, no matter how hard he tries, and... that not every burden, every fate, every life lost, has to be laid onto his shoulders. The weight of the world already takes up so much space, but not every life will be spared at his expense. He fought hard, he tried hard, he wanted to succeed so desperately, but...]

...It's not... my fault.

[He'll try to believe it. He'll try, he'll try. If he doesn't, the crushing weight of it will kill him long before his father's sword.]

[ She's surprised that he repeats it, having expected, instead, that he'd give reasons and reasons as to why he'd think it is. Those demons undoubtedly still linger within his mind, if they're anything like her own, waiting and ready to strike again when he's vulnerable, but she's glad that he's able to acknowledge this much.

It's not his fault. His actions at the time were his alone, ignorant of the future and working within the then-present terrible circumstances thrown at him. His time with Ignis in Havenwell, while apart from the pressures of his world, were on borrowed time, something that he did know and chose to act accordingly in a way he thought was best. Hindsight is always clearer. Blaming one's past self for not knowing the future is unfair. This is why she believes, with certainty, that he shouldn't be so hard on himself.

And if he doesn't believe it wholly himself, she'll believe it all the more for him.

Pyra's hand remains upon his cheek. ] One more time. It's not your fault.

backdated to 8/30

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