[ And it is only Ignis whose hand Somnus runs his along before they part. Touch sustains both of them, but himself for indulgent reasons; for Ignis, it's something much more than that—just as time means something else to an old soul like him.
The day is young yet. It won't pass him by if he blinks, he reminds himself. ]
[ On their way they go, with the picnic basket packed and the car ready and waiting for them. The day is still young when they're on the way to the gardens, Ignis' hand finding his own again in the easy silence of the ride.
Time spent with Somnus is a precious thing; Ignis treasures the warmth of his presence, steady and unchanging; Somnus might think lowly of himself, but Ignis has come to find comfort in the way he's simply there, right beside him, amidst the vicissitudes of royal living.
When they're finally alone, dew-fresh grass and the placid serenity of their retreat replacing the distant sound of their car driving away, Ignis easily lets Somnus take charge of carrying the basket -- really, a fair number of councillors would have conniptions at the fact that Ignis has somehow had the audacity to get Somnus to do menial chores for him, but hey, he's faced down a whole host of past kings, he can handle a few stuffed shirts. ]
[ Even now, Somnus turns away from convention in choosing to forgo a Crownsguard. It's a decision that still fills most of the councilors with unease, knowing that a legend walks unguarded among them. Their protests have lessened, however, since he's started spending more time at Ignis' side, for none can contest the might and wit of the kingdom's most trusted adviser—no matter how much they might grouse, should they happen to spy the Founder King in the middle of performing menial chores.
For what else does he have hands and feet?
The garden is not a place he's visited before. The air here is serene, a far cry from the bustling noise of the Crown City proper. Somnus' steps slow to appreciate the tranquility around them before he fixes his sights on Ignis. ]
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no subject
The day is young yet. It won't pass him by if he blinks, he reminds himself. ]
Let us be on our way.
no subject
Time spent with Somnus is a precious thing; Ignis treasures the warmth of his presence, steady and unchanging; Somnus might think lowly of himself, but Ignis has come to find comfort in the way he's simply there, right beside him, amidst the vicissitudes of royal living.
When they're finally alone, dew-fresh grass and the placid serenity of their retreat replacing the distant sound of their car driving away, Ignis easily lets Somnus take charge of carrying the basket -- really, a fair number of councillors would have conniptions at the fact that Ignis has somehow had the audacity to get Somnus to do menial chores for him, but hey, he's faced down a whole host of past kings, he can handle a few stuffed shirts. ]
Any spot you have in mind?
no subject
For what else does he have hands and feet?
The garden is not a place he's visited before. The air here is serene, a far cry from the bustling noise of the Crown City proper. Somnus' steps slow to appreciate the tranquility around them before he fixes his sights on Ignis. ]
Take me to the one in yours.