[ There are advantages to being visually-challenged, he finds. While your other senses don't reach superhuman levels, it's nonetheless heightened, and Ignis listens for the familiar, faint rustle of movement, the near-inaudible way he locates and picks up the razor. Even then, the cold blade against his throat makes his heart skip a beat.
It will be so easy for Somnus to cut his throat, here and now. Dispose of one of the most loyal Crownsguard, target Noctis, and snatch the crown anew for himself like Ardyn had implied he had done all along. It would be remiss of Ignis not to consider that angle, his intentions, especially when his king's life is at stake. It's possible, but unlikely; heavy is the head that wears the crown; he can't imagine Somnus will want to willingly shoulder the burden all over again in a world he doesn't know, with all that he loved long become ash and dust.
And so Ignis stays serene, trusts him like he does all other mornings and evenings, when Somnus takes to sharing his bed, the warmth and strength of him now familiar. He waits until it's safe to speak, quietly amused by Somnus' comment and the subtle but evident hint of his interest. He's come to read the near-impenetrable cipher that is Somnus Lucis Caelum quite well now, and Ignis is immeasurably proud of it. ]
I know a place near the outskirts. [ An undisturbed garden, quiet and out of the way, peaceful and unlike to chafe at Somnus' patience. ] Perhaps we can spend the day there. Bring your favourite book.
[ Indeed, Ignis is well on his way to mastering the art of reading Somnus' moods. Before the birth of Lucis, his brother had known him best—perhaps even better than himself. There is none who can claim the same level of knowledge on this star now, but Ignis must be closer than anyone else after Ardyn.
What a startling realization that had been at the time.
Somnus lifts the razor before giving his reply. He won't risk Ignis' faith with a careless cut. ]
I would rather that we bring yours. I'm not much of a reader.
[ As much as Gladiolus tried to make one of him.
Owing to their distance from the heart of Insomnia, the outskirts and their nearby regions are quiet. Getting there will take time and require driving. All that trouble to catch some peace, only to read something Ignis doesn't fancy seems counterproductive. They have their similarities, but there are differences to consider as well. Ultimately, Somnus desires this outing to be a fair one to the both of them. ]
[ There it is, that staunch sense of fair play that Ignis has realised is showing itself more and more often. The man has always been a stickler for being equitable, in this relatively new relationship where one is not above the other. Somnus might have his place high above as the Founder King, having earned his rightful, mighty place, but here, he is just a man. Ignis wrestles with that sometimes; generations upon generations of his house had served the Lucis Caelums faithfully, remaining good stewards of all they had been entrusted, and there seems to be an immense cosmic joke in the fact that Ignis has fallen hard for one of them against all better judgement.
He doesn't say much after, feeling the blade against his skin, the ever-present threat and the inexplicable tenderness of this man, who still remains much of a mystery to him. During a natural pause, however, his hands give his hips a gentle squeeze. ]
[ Never in his long existence he would have guessed that this would pass. Stewards don't typically question the thinking of a noble of their house, much less offer their understanding. Ignis is anything but typical . . . a flimsy excuse to be chasing an adviser, but so is Somnus' reason for continuing to meddle in stately affairs.
His being here is unnatural, Somnus knows as he works on the other half of Ignis' face. This—everything that is currently transpiring here—should not be taking place. He cannot, however, stop himself from giving Ignis an answer: Not when the gods no longer have a calling for him to fulfill and Ignis gives his presence some meaning with the reminding squeeze around his hips. In more ways than one, he's become truly mortal again. ]
I shall accompany you. Perhaps I can read the book you choose to bring.
[ Ignis enjoys his independence. Thus, Somnus makes his offer without assuming. ]
[ Far be it from Ignis to assume that Somnus is unaware of Ignis'... ah, different capabilities, but the thought of the man learning how to read through touch instead of fingers is something that fascinates the adviser. It's certainly useful when it comes to sending coded messages -- Ignis makes a note to encourage this kind of learning, especially with Gladio and Prompto. Just because the Empire has become a hollow shell of what it once was doesn't mean that other enemies won't come knocking in due course.
But back to the definitely more interesting subject at hand. He learns about Somnus in degrees, picking up what Somnus chooses to lay open -- and now it's his turn to muse. ]
You must be tired of the romance novels Gladio's sent your way.
[ He's read the covers, though, and long concluded that they'd be a waste of his time. Not because they're worthless, but because such books are fictitious—a fantasy built on the fabric of reality. Somnus sees no point in immersing himself within these fantasies when the reality of Ignis is right here.
Just as he was quick to write off those novels, he's quick to take to the subtle proposal. ]
Another time, then. Learning to read through touch will take a while. [ There's a beat before he adds: ] We can still go.
[ Ignis doesn't miss the exceptions Somnus makes for him -- the acceptance of the bath bombs, the fact that he's open to learning it. The quick rejections of nearly everything else, even from his own successor. It's a privilege that Ignis never wants to take for granted. ]
We can.
[ He murmurs amenably, shifting so Somnus can tend to the other side. A little more, and they'll be done. ]
I've prepared some cured meats, similar to how you might have had it before. Try it later?
[ In the eyes of Somnus, this so-called privilege was earned through attentive diligence on Ignis' part. For all the ways their lives intermingle, Ignis has seldom missed a beat in the rhythm of their strange relationship, just as he shifts to allow Somnus easier access in their current task. ]
Very well.
[ There is also this. Without being asked, Ignis offers the taste of a more familiar time. Now that he's king no longer, Somnus finds himself more prone to reflecting on those bygone days. Of course, he knows better than to forget the present. ]
What can I do?
[ He refuses to just take, not when Ignis' time is invaluable. There must be a give. ]
[ Somnus is taking this very seriously, he knows; his approach to just about everything is earnestly single-minded, intensely intimidating to those who don't know him as well as Ignis has.
And so he gently reminds him that not everything has to be cut and dry and plainly delineated -- that's not what relationships are. ]
[ Truthfully, he was already planning on it. There's just a time and place for everything, and the time is not quite right. But Ignis will have that kiss, as soon as he wraps up the other side and washes and dries Ignis' jaw with a towel.
Then, before he applies the aftershave, Somnus brings a hand to the side of Ignis' neck and leans down as promised. ]
[ It's one of his favourite things to do with Somnus, he finds. Amidst all the time they've spent in companionable silence, learning about each other in just about every imaginable way, teaching Somnus to kiss, knowing that he enjoys it too is one of the best things to experience.
He can't help a flutter of pride when he feels him draw close now, sword-calloused hand so gently against his neck as his own slides up to cradle the back of his. It's so easy to meet him halfway, parting his lips to seal over his, a brief, playful touch of tongue to tease.
Who cares about the aftershave now, he's got his hands full with a handsome, willing lover. ]
[ He cares. Not as much as he cares about this, though.
Taking the tease as an invitation for more, Somnus chases Ignis. Like this, he's even more acutely aware of their proximity, and he finds that he never tires of it. He deepens the kiss by pressing his lips against Ignis'; however, he waits to be granted entrance before pressing farther. ]
[ The words are quiet, warm with affection against his lips. He meets him halfway all the same when Somnus chases, leaning up into him and parting his lips, inviting him in languidly.
There's no hurry in this kiss, when Ignis slips his tongue against his, desiring the taste of him, clean and fresh from his morning rituals. It's times like these when he almost can tell what Somnus looks like, from that generous, lush mouth to the brush of his elegant nose, the heat that builds in his touch, slowly but surely. ]
[ In response, Somnus brings his other hand up to caress Ignis' neck.
For what, he wonders, when he allowed the ring to scorch the body of a most loyal retainer. He buries the thought in the back of his mind before closing his eyes and canting his head to better slot his lips around Ignis', rubbing circles onto the underside of a strong jaw with his thumbs.
Warmth builds in his face, accompanied by the same tingling sensation Ignis always leaves behind with his tender touch. This heat has a way of clouding his thoughts; and this, too, he allows. ]
[ It is his touch that Ignis craves, warm and subtle and not in the least imposing despite Somnus' position and the mythology that swirls around him. He feels him shift, opening up under him while Ignis seeks to explore his mouth, drawing him in in turns to share the simple pleasure of a heartfelt kiss.
He parts from him briefly, absently licking his lips as he chases his flavor, a hand coming up to lightly cup his face, too, gently tracing his cheek, his jaw, as if he can make out a semblance of his face if he tries hard enough. ]
[ Ignis does this sometimes: he'll hold him with such curious affection, because his vision will never improve. The marks left behind by the ring will never fade. If he wishes to look upon Somnus, the deed must be done by his hands. Times like this, Somnus stills so that he might have his fill. ]
I have a good teacher.
[ Though they should stop for the time being, Somnus thinks even as he continues to rub his thumbs against Ignis' jaw. Enough time has elapsed for the next step. ]
[ Aftershave. Right. He pulls away just a little now, a hand resting on Somnus' hip. It's endearing, how Somnus applies himself so intensely to his task, so focused on attending to him.
He nuzzles into his touch, hooked on the way Sommus touching him. He craves the way he touches him, turning his head a little to press a lingering kiss to the pad of his thumb. ]
[ Even while acknowledging that there's more to be done, Ignis would linger into his touch. Somnus allows it for as long as it takes him to exhale through his nose—a sound that mildly resembles a mirthful huff—as a corner of his lips tugs almost imperceptibly upward. After, who can say?
Then his hands withdraw and return to Ignis' face with the aftershave in question. He works neither too slowly nor swiftly. Rush jobs are never worth it, and he isn't the teasing type. ]
[ Who can say, indeed. Ignis appreciates the quiet, soft little huff, the only indicator of Somnus' amusement. He's keeping still, letting him apply the aftershave. Once he's done, he catches Somnus' hand, easing the towel off his bare shoulders and tossing it to where he knows the laundry bin will be. ]
[ He doesn't need to glance in the direction of the towel to know it's landed where it should. ]
The Citadel doesn't need me.
[ Neither does Ignis. There is, however, a difference: of the two, one of them wants his company. So Somnus stays; his hand, lax in Ignis' grasp. And he'll stay for longer than just a short while. ]
Some time won't be enough for an outing near the outskirts.
[ Ah, Ignis really does want to spend time with him. Somnus is good company, and he gives his hand a gentle squeeze. ]
The whole day, then. And night.
[ The citadel will be deprived of Somnus' presence for all that time, and Ignis can simply dial for a chauffeur to drop them off, and pick them up at a set time. Leading him out of the bathroom to the bedroom where his clothes are neatly laid out -- old habits die hard -- he finally lets go of him to feel for his shirt. ]
Watching Ignis tackle his daily routine, Somnus doesn't answer straightaway. The straightforward answer would be that he'd slept. There had been no days off from the Citadel, only periods of latency between activity, but the ever curious Ignis is owed more substance than that. ]
Before Lucis was founded, I was an avid falconer.
[ He still slept, of course—just not nearly as often.
Thinking about it now, how long has it been since he last went on a hunt? Food has become much easier to procure in modern Eos, diminishing the practicality of the aged pastime. It might be better off staying in the past. ]
[ Baby you gotta tell him you agree with it, he can't actually see the nod. Ignis tilts his head briefly at Somnus' inscrutable silence nonetheless; but he doesn't hear a refusal -- which means the man is... amenable? Perhaps. Somnus has never had trouble saying no.
And then he shares something small. Something personal, something precious, and as Ignis carefully gets dressed he imagines someone a lot like Noctis, with a falcon on his arm. Not a bad image. ]
We have falcons in Lucis.
[ He's pretty sure. The city is getting back to itself again -- progress is steady, slow in some areas, but its people have proven remarkably resilient. Already the markets are up and running. ]
I put that avocation to rest once I was crowned king. There are more important matters at hand than training a bird to perform its natural talent.
[ The whole of Lucis comes to mind. At the same time, so does Ignis. Somnus pauses.
He's always excelled at pointing out why something should or should not be. Watching Ignis from the side, it occurs rather belatedly to him that he doesn't need to be so defensive—not here. Thus, he tries again. ]
[ For all of Ignis' newly-minted understanding of the Inner Workings of Somnus Lucis Caelum, there are times when he can't actually figure out what he's thinking. He's very sure there's some sort of concession in this gesture, but he's not sure for what, and why.
So Ignis waits for him to continue, patiently. He's buttoning up his shirt, absently straightening out his cuffs. ]
[ Do you ever really forget such a thing? He smooths down his cuffs by touch alone, deciding to forgo the tie because he has no official business anywhere, really. He can pick up that shrug, but this isn't something he's letting go easily. ]
Perhaps there is some joy in re-learning what you've forgotten.
[ He recalls the anticipation, then the thrill of the hunt, followed by the high upon recovery of the prey. There had been joy there, a deep sense of pleasure derived from success—the notion that he'd been in control of the valley through the bird perched on his forearm.
It's debatable that he'll feel the same way after so many centuries have elapsed. He's changed since. But there ceased to be guarantees in his life once he was given a living body again. ]
Perhaps.
[ Ignis' attention to the little details has Somnus peer down at his own cuffs. The world has changed, too. Even clothes are stiffer now. ]
I'd rather learn to read first.
[ As children, he and his brother had enjoyed their differences. As the years had gone by, those differences had created a rift. This time, he'll close the gap before it forms. ]
[ Ignis can't keep the curiosity out of his question, even if he's not altogether surprised by Somnus' focus on learning as opposed to the thrill of the hunt. The ages seem to have blunted Somnus' bloodthirst, and he's only just settling into the new world and all its quirks and idiosyncrasies.
[ It's astounding, really, how willing Ignis is to help when he's already up to his eyeballs in terms of items on his agenda. Somnus refuses to add to that ever growing list. The last thing he wants is to become a burden, especially to one who has so much to offer to the world. ]
Your time is precious. I can learn on my own.
[ There's plenty of time between political affairs, for there are no kingly matters to which he must attend. Instead of sleeping, he'll take those moments to teach himself.
[ It's endeaaring, how Somnus doesn't actively presume to lay claim to his time, or impose in any way -- it's something he's come to discover along the way, like a precious secret, a mark of Somnus' tender consideration.
Only Ignis is privy to the softer side of him, he realises, and as he straightens up he reaches for him, snagging his fingers to gently pull him close, feeling him out briefly so that he can accurately brush the softest kiss over his cheek. ]
The kitchens should have our orders ready. One of the drivers will be bringing the car around as well.
[ 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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It will be so easy for Somnus to cut his throat, here and now. Dispose of one of the most loyal Crownsguard, target Noctis, and snatch the crown anew for himself like Ardyn had implied he had done all along. It would be remiss of Ignis not to consider that angle, his intentions, especially when his king's life is at stake. It's possible, but unlikely; heavy is the head that wears the crown; he can't imagine Somnus will want to willingly shoulder the burden all over again in a world he doesn't know, with all that he loved long become ash and dust.
And so Ignis stays serene, trusts him like he does all other mornings and evenings, when Somnus takes to sharing his bed, the warmth and strength of him now familiar. He waits until it's safe to speak, quietly amused by Somnus' comment and the subtle but evident hint of his interest. He's come to read the near-impenetrable cipher that is Somnus Lucis Caelum quite well now, and Ignis is immeasurably proud of it. ]
I know a place near the outskirts. [ An undisturbed garden, quiet and out of the way, peaceful and unlike to chafe at Somnus' patience. ] Perhaps we can spend the day there. Bring your favourite book.
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What a startling realization that had been at the time.
Somnus lifts the razor before giving his reply. He won't risk Ignis' faith with a careless cut. ]
I would rather that we bring yours. I'm not much of a reader.
[ As much as Gladiolus tried to make one of him.
Owing to their distance from the heart of Insomnia, the outskirts and their nearby regions are quiet. Getting there will take time and require driving. All that trouble to catch some peace, only to read something Ignis doesn't fancy seems counterproductive. They have their similarities, but there are differences to consider as well. Ultimately, Somnus desires this outing to be a fair one to the both of them. ]
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[ There it is, that staunch sense of fair play that Ignis has realised is showing itself more and more often. The man has always been a stickler for being equitable, in this relatively new relationship where one is not above the other. Somnus might have his place high above as the Founder King, having earned his rightful, mighty place, but here, he is just a man. Ignis wrestles with that sometimes; generations upon generations of his house had served the Lucis Caelums faithfully, remaining good stewards of all they had been entrusted, and there seems to be an immense cosmic joke in the fact that Ignis has fallen hard for one of them against all better judgement.
He doesn't say much after, feeling the blade against his skin, the ever-present threat and the inexplicable tenderness of this man, who still remains much of a mystery to him. During a natural pause, however, his hands give his hips a gentle squeeze. ]
What will you do, then?
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His being here is unnatural, Somnus knows as he works on the other half of Ignis' face. This—everything that is currently transpiring here—should not be taking place. He cannot, however, stop himself from giving Ignis an answer: Not when the gods no longer have a calling for him to fulfill and Ignis gives his presence some meaning with the reminding squeeze around his hips. In more ways than one, he's become truly mortal again. ]
I shall accompany you. Perhaps I can read the book you choose to bring.
[ Ignis enjoys his independence. Thus, Somnus makes his offer without assuming. ]
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[ Far be it from Ignis to assume that Somnus is unaware of Ignis'... ah, different capabilities, but the thought of the man learning how to read through touch instead of fingers is something that fascinates the adviser. It's certainly useful when it comes to sending coded messages -- Ignis makes a note to encourage this kind of learning, especially with Gladio and Prompto. Just because the Empire has become a hollow shell of what it once was doesn't mean that other enemies won't come knocking in due course.
But back to the definitely more interesting subject at hand. He learns about Somnus in degrees, picking up what Somnus chooses to lay open -- and now it's his turn to muse. ]
You must be tired of the romance novels Gladio's sent your way.
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[ He's read the covers, though, and long concluded that they'd be a waste of his time. Not because they're worthless, but because such books are fictitious—a fantasy built on the fabric of reality. Somnus sees no point in immersing himself within these fantasies when the reality of Ignis is right here.
Just as he was quick to write off those novels, he's quick to take to the subtle proposal. ]
Another time, then. Learning to read through touch will take a while. [ There's a beat before he adds: ] We can still go.
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We can.
[ He murmurs amenably, shifting so Somnus can tend to the other side. A little more, and they'll be done. ]
I've prepared some cured meats, similar to how you might have had it before. Try it later?
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Very well.
[ There is also this. Without being asked, Ignis offers the taste of a more familiar time. Now that he's king no longer, Somnus finds himself more prone to reflecting on those bygone days. Of course, he knows better than to forget the present. ]
What can I do?
[ He refuses to just take, not when Ignis' time is invaluable. There must be a give. ]
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[ Somnus is taking this very seriously, he knows; his approach to just about everything is earnestly single-minded, intensely intimidating to those who don't know him as well as Ignis has.
And so he gently reminds him that not everything has to be cut and dry and plainly delineated -- that's not what relationships are. ]
And be my lap for when I'm reading.
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[ Truthfully, he was already planning on it. There's just a time and place for everything, and the time is not quite right. But Ignis will have that kiss, as soon as he wraps up the other side and washes and dries Ignis' jaw with a towel.
Then, before he applies the aftershave, Somnus brings a hand to the side of Ignis' neck and leans down as promised. ]
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He can't help a flutter of pride when he feels him draw close now, sword-calloused hand so gently against his neck as his own slides up to cradle the back of his. It's so easy to meet him halfway, parting his lips to seal over his, a brief, playful touch of tongue to tease.
Who cares about the aftershave now, he's got his hands full with a handsome, willing lover. ]
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Taking the tease as an invitation for more, Somnus chases Ignis. Like this, he's even more acutely aware of their proximity, and he finds that he never tires of it. He deepens the kiss by pressing his lips against Ignis'; however, he waits to be granted entrance before pressing farther. ]
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[ The words are quiet, warm with affection against his lips. He meets him halfway all the same when Somnus chases, leaning up into him and parting his lips, inviting him in languidly.
There's no hurry in this kiss, when Ignis slips his tongue against his, desiring the taste of him, clean and fresh from his morning rituals. It's times like these when he almost can tell what Somnus looks like, from that generous, lush mouth to the brush of his elegant nose, the heat that builds in his touch, slowly but surely. ]
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For what, he wonders, when he allowed the ring to scorch the body of a most loyal retainer. He buries the thought in the back of his mind before closing his eyes and canting his head to better slot his lips around Ignis', rubbing circles onto the underside of a strong jaw with his thumbs.
Warmth builds in his face, accompanied by the same tingling sensation Ignis always leaves behind with his tender touch. This heat has a way of clouding his thoughts; and this, too, he allows. ]
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He parts from him briefly, absently licking his lips as he chases his flavor, a hand coming up to lightly cup his face, too, gently tracing his cheek, his jaw, as if he can make out a semblance of his face if he tries hard enough. ]
You're really good at this now.
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I have a good teacher.
[ Though they should stop for the time being, Somnus thinks even as he continues to rub his thumbs against Ignis' jaw. Enough time has elapsed for the next step. ]
We still need to apply the aftershave.
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He nuzzles into his touch, hooked on the way Sommus touching him. He craves the way he touches him, turning his head a little to press a lingering kiss to the pad of his thumb. ]
And after you apply that?
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Then his hands withdraw and return to Ignis' face with the aftershave in question. He works neither too slowly nor swiftly. Rush jobs are never worth it, and he isn't the teasing type. ]
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Spend some time with me?
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The Citadel doesn't need me.
[ Neither does Ignis. There is, however, a difference: of the two, one of them wants his company. So Somnus stays; his hand, lax in Ignis' grasp. And he'll stay for longer than just a short while. ]
Some time won't be enough for an outing near the outskirts.
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The whole day, then. And night.
[ The citadel will be deprived of Somnus' presence for all that time, and Ignis can simply dial for a chauffeur to drop them off, and pick them up at a set time. Leading him out of the bathroom to the bedroom where his clothes are neatly laid out -- old habits die hard -- he finally lets go of him to feel for his shirt. ]
What did you do on your days off, before?
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Watching Ignis tackle his daily routine, Somnus doesn't answer straightaway. The straightforward answer would be that he'd slept. There had been no days off from the Citadel, only periods of latency between activity, but the ever curious Ignis is owed more substance than that. ]
Before Lucis was founded, I was an avid falconer.
[ He still slept, of course—just not nearly as often.
Thinking about it now, how long has it been since he last went on a hunt? Food has become much easier to procure in modern Eos, diminishing the practicality of the aged pastime. It might be better off staying in the past. ]
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And then he shares something small. Something personal, something precious, and as Ignis carefully gets dressed he imagines someone a lot like Noctis, with a falcon on his arm. Not a bad image. ]
We have falcons in Lucis.
[ He's pretty sure. The city is getting back to itself again -- progress is steady, slow in some areas, but its people have proven remarkably resilient. Already the markets are up and running. ]
Maybe it won't be hard to find one.
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I put that avocation to rest once I was crowned king. There are more important matters at hand than training a bird to perform its natural talent.
[ The whole of Lucis comes to mind. At the same time, so does Ignis. Somnus pauses.
He's always excelled at pointing out why something should or should not be. Watching Ignis from the side, it occurs rather belatedly to him that he doesn't need to be so defensive—not here. Thus, he tries again. ]
We don't need to find one.
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[ For all of Ignis' newly-minted understanding of the Inner Workings of Somnus Lucis Caelum, there are times when he can't actually figure out what he's thinking. He's very sure there's some sort of concession in this gesture, but he's not sure for what, and why.
So Ignis waits for him to continue, patiently. He's buttoning up his shirt, absently straightening out his cuffs. ]
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It's been some two millennia. I might have forgotten how to hunt.
[ Although he doesn't move, the mild flippancy with which he answers can easily be imagined with a shrug. ]
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[ Do you ever really forget such a thing? He smooths down his cuffs by touch alone, deciding to forgo the tie because he has no official business anywhere, really. He can pick up that shrug, but this isn't something he's letting go easily. ]
Perhaps there is some joy in re-learning what you've forgotten.
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It's debatable that he'll feel the same way after so many centuries have elapsed. He's changed since. But there ceased to be guarantees in his life once he was given a living body again. ]
Perhaps.
[ Ignis' attention to the little details has Somnus peer down at his own cuffs. The world has changed, too. Even clothes are stiffer now. ]
I'd rather learn to read first.
[ As children, he and his brother had enjoyed their differences. As the years had gone by, those differences had created a rift. This time, he'll close the gap before it forms. ]
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[ Ignis can't keep the curiosity out of his question, even if he's not altogether surprised by Somnus' focus on learning as opposed to the thrill of the hunt. The ages seem to have blunted Somnus' bloodthirst, and he's only just settling into the new world and all its quirks and idiosyncrasies.
He turns his head in his direction, waiting. ]
I could help, if you like.
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Your time is precious. I can learn on my own.
[ There's plenty of time between political affairs, for there are no kingly matters to which he must attend. Instead of sleeping, he'll take those moments to teach himself.
He can't always rely on Ignis for everything. ]
All finished?
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[ It's endeaaring, how Somnus doesn't actively presume to lay claim to his time, or impose in any way -- it's something he's come to discover along the way, like a precious secret, a mark of Somnus' tender consideration.
Only Ignis is privy to the softer side of him, he realises, and as he straightens up he reaches for him, snagging his fingers to gently pull him close, feeling him out briefly so that he can accurately brush the softest kiss over his cheek. ]
The kitchens should have our orders ready. One of the drivers will be bringing the car around as well.
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The day is young yet. It won't pass him by if he blinks, he reminds himself. ]
Let us be on our way.
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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?
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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.