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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no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[ 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.
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.