[It takes another few moments and several rounds for Noctis to notice, his gaze lifting warily to Ardyn.]
Everything okay? [A beat, and then more quietly,] Did I do it again?
[It's difficult not to feel a little panic about it; he'd managed to laugh it off before, but the flare-ups of memory are starting to grow in intensity, and he's noticing. He feels like himself now, he feels like he's following the rules Ardyn gave him and the tactics are his own, but if he hadn't noticed before, how would he notice it now? Is this him, or is it Somnus playing right now?]
[Ardyn hummed thoughtfully as he considered the question, looking over the board as if searching for something. How one approached games like this said more about people than they realized, and he’d done it more than enough to see the little details others were less aware of.]
Hm...no, I don’t think so. A passing resemblance is far from complete mimicry. Perhaps it’s merely another thing that runs in the family.
[He shook his head, moving another piece.]
You play similarly to how he used to. No patience, simply a forward assault on all fronts. Which is certainly a viable strategy, but it sacrifices the larger picture for the short term victories.
[Noctis seems to relax a little at those words, shoulders drooping in relief. If anyone would know if he's too much like Somnus, Ardyn would.]
See, this is why nobody back home could get me to play properly. I hate the long game. Toss me head-first into a fight and I'm happy about it. At least that way I know what I'm doing.
[Ignis kind of held his hand through the tactical stuff. Any time he left it up to Noct it was more sweet-and-simple at best. He could follow instructions just fine! But don't expect him to come up with a brilliant strategy ahead of time.]
You know, now that I think about it...that's the funny part of it. We both fought like the other played chess; he acted with more finesse to his actions, while I had the edge in physical strength and never cared to learn technique.
[Capturing one of Noctis' pieces with no fanfare, Ardyn shrugged.]
An odd little thing, that. But I suppose it makes sense.
[He makes a face at the lost piece, but he had it coming so instead he (for once) backtracks a little, trying to close ranks around his royalty.]
Technique and tactics are a little different, though. Like, I couldn't lead a base infiltration, but I know some of Iggy's fancy dagger moves. Maybe it just comes down to the end result.
Perhaps you've some point on the difference between the two. When it comes to outright combat, I'd sooner have it done and over with before I can think too much about what I'm doing. Something like this is far easier to think a little more carefully about one's course of action.
[Since it's not like injuries ever stick or Ardyn gets especially worn out from it, and he doesn't want either of those but it means there's never a clear victory.
He does pause, though, because it makes him think about the scars on Ardyn's hand again, and how they stuck. That... hadn't happened the last time he attacked Ardyn properly, but a few things have changed since then.]
...But maybe... we shouldn't anymore, in that case. I can spar with other people, if you don't like it.
If it's not any trouble...I might want to just on occasion. After all, it won't make any difference whether or not I enjoy fighting if something should make it necessary to do so. Maybe you'll end up teaching me a few things in the process.
...Are... you sure? I don't... I mean, I could actually hurt you. I didn't know that was possible before.
[He wouldn't mean to. He knows how to spar without causing serious injury, he's done it practically all his life. But with these memories messing with his head, and now with the knowledge that he has power than can leave lingering wounds, he's left feeling more wary.]
[That caused him to hesitate just a second, piece in his right hand hovering briefly over the board before being set down.]
...I don't really expect we'll be throwing magic at each other in a simple sparring match, do you? Even if you did somehow manage to hit me, I'll be fine.
...Allow me to make this abundantly clear, that there might be no misunderstanding.
[With those words his demeanor shifted in a way that was hard to quantify; the way he often looked like a jumpy feral cat was left behind to be replaced with some long-forgotten gravely serious composure.]
I have more regrets than I can or wish to keep count of, most of which have tangible reminders in one form or another. But I do not--and shall never--regret protecting someone I care about. If a few more scars is the price for having done so, then I will bear them with no complaint. I made my own choice, and if I were given the option to repeat the situation, I would do nothing differently.
[There's something uncomfortably intense about Ardyn's expression there, and Noctis has to look away before he glances back, to remind himself that just because it's an unusual look for Ardyn to wear doesn't mean it's wrong. His eyes lack the hatred that his instincts had begun to ring the alarm bells for.
It takes a moment, but Noctis finally nods and relaxes a little, recognizing the intent behind those words.]
...Right... got it. Loud and clear. [No regrets for this. It's very... them. Something about that frustrating self-sacrificial attitude is as reassuring as it is annoying.]
[The severe look evaporated with as little warning as it had appeared, Ardyn relaxing with a faint and tired smile.]
I never regret helping people, Noct. No matter what kind of trouble or complication it may lead to, that intervention in and of itself is no less meaningful.
Kind of amazing you still feel that way, considering where it got you.
[It's... admirable, in a grim sort of way. Becoming what he is now, being locked away for so long, that sort of compassion could have easily died with him.]
[Ardyn shrugged with his left shoulder as he contemplated both the board and his next words carefully.]
I am not so good a person as to be free of resentment over what transpired. It takes far more than a single monarch to rewrite history when ‘history’ was as recent as ‘several weeks ago’.
[Somnus hadn’t been well-liked in their time; ‘feared’ might have been a better word, depending on who one asked. So it made sense that the kingdom’s people would fall in line with the idea that Ardyn was never to be spoken of again. It made sense, and yet it still managed to sting at the darker parts of him that wanted to scream about the injustice and ingratitude of it all. How many bloodlines persisted to this day because of years of tireless work? How much smaller would Lucis be if he’d decided it wasn’t worth it from the start?]
But everything terrible that happened was not for nothing; all of it would only be rendered utterly pointless from my perspective if not for however many lives were saved in the process. While I regret much of what came of it and just about everything to do with my brother, I can not regret the work I did itself. Doing so would feel the same as wishing each and every person I saved to be condemned to an agonizing death.
[Somewhere along that line of thought, Ardyn made his move—the white king retreated a step.]
If I were ever to second-guess saving even one person’s life or wish I had done any less than I was capable of when someone was suffering right in front of me, I would lose what little of myself I have left.
[He wonders how he'd feel, if in the aftermath of reviving the dawn all memory of him was forgotten, erased from existence like he'd never mattered at all. He knows it's unlikely, assuming the others survive, or Cor or those still loyal to the crown, but ten years is a long time to be without a king. It's just as likely that some might consider the return of dawn to be a fluke or good timing, their patience rewarded by the gods and not a sacrificed monarch long lost. And even with the others to carry his memory, how long with it last? Would he, too, be lost to the ebb and flow of time, collecting dust in some history book as nothing more than a title like most of the old kings?
How fortunate he wouldn't be alive to see it happen. In light of those thoughts and everything he's heard, he can't begrudge Ardyn for holding on to that pain.]
I don't have to like the outcome to acknowledge the work put into it. And... you know. I do like being alive. [He moves a piece to chase the king, probably foolish, but just as much a sign that he's still himself, too.] So thanks, for doing it anyway.
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Everything okay? [A beat, and then more quietly,] Did I do it again?
[It's difficult not to feel a little panic about it; he'd managed to laugh it off before, but the flare-ups of memory are starting to grow in intensity, and he's noticing. He feels like himself now, he feels like he's following the rules Ardyn gave him and the tactics are his own, but if he hadn't noticed before, how would he notice it now? Is this him, or is it Somnus playing right now?]
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Hm...no, I don’t think so. A passing resemblance is far from complete mimicry. Perhaps it’s merely another thing that runs in the family.
[He shook his head, moving another piece.]
You play similarly to how he used to. No patience, simply a forward assault on all fronts. Which is certainly a viable strategy, but it sacrifices the larger picture for the short term victories.
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See, this is why nobody back home could get me to play properly. I hate the long game. Toss me head-first into a fight and I'm happy about it. At least that way I know what I'm doing.
[Ignis kind of held his hand through the tactical stuff. Any time he left it up to Noct it was more sweet-and-simple at best. He could follow instructions just fine! But don't expect him to come up with a brilliant strategy ahead of time.]
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[Capturing one of Noctis' pieces with no fanfare, Ardyn shrugged.]
An odd little thing, that. But I suppose it makes sense.
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[He makes a face at the lost piece, but he had it coming so instead he (for once) backtracks a little, trying to close ranks around his royalty.]
Technique and tactics are a little different, though. Like, I couldn't lead a base infiltration, but I know some of Iggy's fancy dagger moves. Maybe it just comes down to the end result.
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[The logic checks out. Healer and all.]
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[Since it's not like injuries ever stick or Ardyn gets especially worn out from it, and he doesn't want either of those but it means there's never a clear victory.
He does pause, though, because it makes him think about the scars on Ardyn's hand again, and how they stuck. That... hadn't happened the last time he attacked Ardyn properly, but a few things have changed since then.]
...But maybe... we shouldn't anymore, in that case. I can spar with other people, if you don't like it.
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[Ardyn trailed off, thinking the offer over.]
If it's not any trouble...I might want to just on occasion. After all, it won't make any difference whether or not I enjoy fighting if something should make it necessary to do so. Maybe you'll end up teaching me a few things in the process.
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How to be reckless about it, maybe.
[His eyes flit downwards again.]
...Are... you sure? I don't... I mean, I could actually hurt you. I didn't know that was possible before.
[He wouldn't mean to. He knows how to spar without causing serious injury, he's done it practically all his life. But with these memories messing with his head, and now with the knowledge that he has power than can leave lingering wounds, he's left feeling more wary.]
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...I don't really expect we'll be throwing magic at each other in a simple sparring match, do you? Even if you did somehow manage to hit me, I'll be fine.
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[He's not terribly enthused, still wary, but then again it's hard to be eager when he feels like hot garbage, so finally he nods.]
Yeah... okay. Just let me know whenever you want to.
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[...]
I really am alright, if you were by any chance worried.
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I'm not. [He is.] Just don't want you to fall apart on us when we're not looking.
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[It was kind of a close call and he knew it.]
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Hope not. Still, yours isn't the ass I wanna kick.
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[Noctis exhales heavily, scuffing a hand through his hair.]
Just. Don't want you to get stuck carrying any more regret.
[The way he carries his scars.]
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[With those words his demeanor shifted in a way that was hard to quantify; the way he often looked like a jumpy feral cat was left behind to be replaced with some long-forgotten gravely serious composure.]
I have more regrets than I can or wish to keep count of, most of which have tangible reminders in one form or another. But I do not--and shall never--regret protecting someone I care about. If a few more scars is the price for having done so, then I will bear them with no complaint. I made my own choice, and if I were given the option to repeat the situation, I would do nothing differently.
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It takes a moment, but Noctis finally nods and relaxes a little, recognizing the intent behind those words.]
...Right... got it. Loud and clear. [No regrets for this. It's very... them. Something about that frustrating self-sacrificial attitude is as reassuring as it is annoying.]
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I never regret helping people, Noct. No matter what kind of trouble or complication it may lead to, that intervention in and of itself is no less meaningful.
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[It's... admirable, in a grim sort of way. Becoming what he is now, being locked away for so long, that sort of compassion could have easily died with him.]
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I am not so good a person as to be free of resentment over what transpired. It takes far more than a single monarch to rewrite history when ‘history’ was as recent as ‘several weeks ago’.
[Somnus hadn’t been well-liked in their time; ‘feared’ might have been a better word, depending on who one asked. So it made sense that the kingdom’s people would fall in line with the idea that Ardyn was never to be spoken of again. It made sense, and yet it still managed to sting at the darker parts of him that wanted to scream about the injustice and ingratitude of it all. How many bloodlines persisted to this day because of years of tireless work? How much smaller would Lucis be if he’d decided it wasn’t worth it from the start?]
But everything terrible that happened was not for nothing; all of it would only be rendered utterly pointless from my perspective if not for however many lives were saved in the process. While I regret much of what came of it and just about everything to do with my brother, I can not regret the work I did itself. Doing so would feel the same as wishing each and every person I saved to be condemned to an agonizing death.
[Somewhere along that line of thought, Ardyn made his move—the white king retreated a step.]
If I were ever to second-guess saving even one person’s life or wish I had done any less than I was capable of when someone was suffering right in front of me, I would lose what little of myself I have left.
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[He wonders how he'd feel, if in the aftermath of reviving the dawn all memory of him was forgotten, erased from existence like he'd never mattered at all. He knows it's unlikely, assuming the others survive, or Cor or those still loyal to the crown, but ten years is a long time to be without a king. It's just as likely that some might consider the return of dawn to be a fluke or good timing, their patience rewarded by the gods and not a sacrificed monarch long lost. And even with the others to carry his memory, how long with it last? Would he, too, be lost to the ebb and flow of time, collecting dust in some history book as nothing more than a title like most of the old kings?
How fortunate he wouldn't be alive to see it happen. In light of those thoughts and everything he's heard, he can't begrudge Ardyn for holding on to that pain.]
I don't have to like the outcome to acknowledge the work put into it. And... you know. I do like being alive. [He moves a piece to chase the king, probably foolish, but just as much a sign that he's still himself, too.] So thanks, for doing it anyway.
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