finalflight | PSL; [YOU KNOW I LOST MY MIND]

PSL; [YOU KNOW I LOST MY MIND]

how high is too low?

[Noctis’ light had swallowed him whole.

Engulfed him like he were nothing, his power finally realized and strengthened by the chains of destiny. The King of Light wielding that selfsame weapon, as much of a pawn of the gods as he was, fulfilling his very purpose for existing. And it hurts, for a few harrying moments — it hurts, the light burrows into him and makes the Starscourge scream and he’s expelled from existence like a disease destroyed, like a plague banished from the land. The darkness fallen, his mind and spirit and his very right to exist erased. And then the pain is gone. Noctis’ light, too, wanes and becomes nothing, like him.

Then there is only nothing. And freedom — finally, after so many ages — is a release he cannot even truly appreciate.

But it doesn’t matter. He’s gone now.

* * *

Until he isn’t.

Until his body feels like it’s shuddered back into existence, so much feeling in every nerve ending. Air and dust filling his lungs. The cold press of a stone floor, dull pain across every limb, in every bone. It’s impossible, and for a moment that void of nothing is filled with fear — like a vacuum letting air in for the first time — and Ardyn jolts into consciousness. Gold eyes are wide in the shadows, fingers curling into fists, then opening, then closing, then opening again.

For those few awful moments, he is unflattering. Confused and disoriented and lost in the sensation of being alive and being without a darkness that crawls beneath his skin. It’s like gaining too much and losing a limb all at once. He might have released a desperate noise from the back of his throat, he might have had nails bite into his face as he felt the contours of his features. It’s all a great storm in his head, only slowly released.

It’s only later when the anger sets in. The frustration of his rightful end stolen from him, because this was not how it was supposed to go — he was not supposed to exist, he was not supposed to be alive. Was he alive? He felt off, strange, weak and unbalanced like the healer he used to be. The Starscourge — where was it?

Where was he?

He can’t see much of anything. It’s dark, though he swears a flicker of torchlight dances just outside the exit to this stone room of rectangular shapes and oddly purposeful placements. It reminds him of Angelgard, an unpleasant association. It reminds him of a prison, or of a tomb.

A minute more and he’s shuffling to his feet, heading towards that light. What an irony.]

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[ Ah, perhaps he should not have brought that up just yet. It may well ruin their supper, but it can’t be helped – and X’rhun knows from experience that the lady of the house’s cooking tastes just as good cold, as gallivanting after graverobbers has caused him to keep some very late nights indeed.

In answer, X’rhun moves to the simple traveling pack slung over one of the bedposts. Rustling around in one of the pockets produces a piece of parchment – a clipping, to be precise, from one of the newspapers local to Ul’dah. He slides the article across the small table to Ardyn, and all at once it’s apparent why. Accompanying the story is an artist’s rendition of its subject – a young man with dark hair and a sleepy countenance, adorned in clothes many might find strange.

To those that know him, the image of Prince Noctis is very well done indeed. ]

This was some time ago, by now. I happened upon some Ul’dahn merchants talking about the article and had to hunt down a copy for myself.

[ The article itself is a fanciful and romantic sort of thing, speaking of a wayward traveler, lost between worlds, joining forces with Eorzea’s champion that he might find his way back to the woman he loves. Hopeful, to some, melancholy to those precious few that know the end to this particular tale. ]

[He’s patient while X’rhun roots around in his bag, but his eager curiosity is betrayed by how deftly fingers pluck up the parchment, amber eyes roving over its contents. Immediately, he recognizes that well-rendered face; the artist did a rather good job of capturing the young prince’s beleaguered, tiredly resigned expression.

There’s no hiding his surprise, eyes widening before his brow furrows. Perhaps the first sincere expression pulled out of Ardyn since X’rhun found him in that dusty tomb — no shock that it would be Noctis, or the footprint he’s left behind in this world, to cause it.

He deigns not to reply, not until he’s read the copy accompanying the article. And as he takes in each and every line, that same surprise transitions into a smile, slowly pulling at the corners of his mouth as if brought up by a thin thread. Wry, a little cold. The amusement in his reply seems to match.]

Ah, the King himself — or I suppose just a little lost prince at the time, if he’s hoping to return home to his still-breathing fiance, ha! But dear Noctis visited your star long before I did? He never mentioned it, that much is for certain.

[He places the article down on the table again, looking across at X’rhun with an inscrutable gaze.]

I suppose I’m just following a precedent, then. Maybe this place has a preference for those with Lucis Caelum blood in their veins.

[mentally: what the fuck]

I imagine there were more pressing matters at hand that left mentions of other words to fall by the wayside.

[ Just a guess.

X’rhun slides into the seat opposite his friend, eyes roving over his expression. But a heartbeat ago, his feelings had been made plain, genuine surprise now smoothed over into something more Ardyn – that is to say, entirely difficult to read. However, X’rhun did not come this far as Ardyn Izunia’s friend without learning to read between the lines, and that brief glimpse is all he needs to infer how the other might be feeling. ]

I suppose if you’ve a desire to unravel the mystery of your appearance, we might start with the young lady which penned this article. She may be able to offer some insight.

But you needn’t decide such things right now. Dinner first, at the very least.

I can’t imagine what.

[He says to be frustrating about it, knowing full well that there was the small matter of the star being engulfed by darkness that might have distracted Noctis at the time. Among a myriad of other issues.

Still, he watches as X’rhun settles in the seat in front of him. The food hasn’t lost its appeal, but it has been momentarily forgotten in this unexpected revelation, that he was not the first man from Eos to have unwillingly arrived here.]

What is there to decide?

[But he seems to remember the myriad of dishes before them now, and pushes one closer to him, plucking up a utensil with his other hand.]

This young lady… if we are to squeeze answers out of her, what then? I’ve no desire to return to my star in a living, breathing state. [His smile grows sharp yet rueful.] As I am now.

[ X’rhun knows by now what pieces Ardyn adds to the conversation just to be frustrating and which pieces are worth keeping, examining, and addressing. It is why his first statement is left unremarked upon, to float into the aether and be forgotten, but the rest, well. The rest is very much worth addressing. ]

I cannot claim to know your thoughts on your appearance here, my friend, or what you intend to do about it, if anything. In fact, I suspect that you yourself are still working through your feelings on the matter, which is why I thought to offer you options one way or another without the pressure of choice.

[ Ardyn had always been so fixated on the end that had not come, snatched away by and imagined Storm or the hands of kidnappers unknown, and now that he has been snatched away after it has come to pass, X’rhun cannot begin to imagine where that leaves him. ]

... You know I am willing to listen, should you need it.

[He should expect it by now. That none of his flippancy ever truly lands any longer, for X’rhun possesses what very few people on Eos could ever manage: a filter that divided Ardyn’s pervasive uncaring statements from his actual intent and feeling. Like sifting through sand to locate precious minerals beneath.

And it should be annoying to the man, who relies so much on this tactic that it’s hard to rebuke it when someone goes straight into the heart of the matter. But though they have been departed — and longer still for X’rhun, so it would seem — how easily they fall back into old routine. He nearly expects for him to ask the difficult questions, or at least offer a willing ear to listen to what he knows must be bothering him.

This man sees right through him, as always. Some things have not changed.]

Then you shall listen to what you have heard before. What you know about me, whether unspoken or otherwise.

[He impales a vegetable cleanly with his fork, like it were a thing to be killed before eaten.]

When we were in New Amsterdam, I was mortal — technically, at least — and I endured it simply because I knew Eos still awaited me. That there was work yet to be done, a star to drown in the endless night. And now? What reason do I have to endure anything? I do not wish to return, and… I am fairly certain that I am too tired to live, dear friend. [He exhales a breathy, ironic laugh.] And yet this vast universe cannot even grant me that much. An astral cannot be bothered to keep his promise of destiny tightening its noose around my neck.

Maybe I’ll ask a favor of you — tell you to run your sword through my heart and see if it sticks this time.

[ As always, it’s different to guess than to hear it from the man himself – even if X’rhun’s conjectures are right more often than not when it comes to Ardyn. As much as it pains him to hear that Ardyn is tired, too tired to live, in fact, his friend’s own admission offers a bit more insight than X’rhun himself was able to cobble together.

How far they have come since idle chatter about skeletons in closets. Now that X’rhun has seen those proverbial doors thrown wide, and beheld the mountain of bones within, he barely has to prod for any answers at all.

Without his hat to conceal them, X’rhun’s ears betray his thoughts, drooping as his heart goes out to the man across from him. He cannot possibly fathom how weary his friend must be, how it feels to slip into nothingness after lifetimes of bitterness and torment, only to be ripped free again. Yet, even as Ardyn sharply jokes about asking X’rhun to kill him, the Duelist already knows his answer. His terribly selfish answer. ]

I would do a great many things for you, Ardyn, but I do not think I’ve the strength of heart for that particular favor.

[And yet perhaps it is selfish to even jest about it, knowing that X’rhun would not be able to free him of this tiresome mortal coil. In all his sentimentality, in their friendship grown into something immeasurable and still unspoken of between them, he knows he cannot truly ask that of him. Doling out more pain, though his very existence was curated for it, is not something Ardyn has the heart nor energy to do any longer. Not when his purpose has been fulfilled, the darkness now cast out from Eos and his body free from its influence.

Some people might call that a blessing. A second chance. These people are utter idiots, Ardyn would reply, not accounting for how broken it leaves both body and spirit.

He takes a bite of his food, looking at X’rhun’s expression. Chews with consideration and swallows. Then motions with his fork at him.]

Held back by sentiment. [A ha! tumbles from his mouth.] Well. How flattering, but ultimately not surprising. Honestly, if you missed me so much, you need only say so.

[ X’rhun would be one such idiot, willing to see this as a second chance – a chance for Ardyn to live as was denied him by the heavy shackles of fate, but he knows his friend well enough to realize that isn’t what he wants to hear right now. Will he ever, he wonders? Without the looming inevitability of fate looming over Ardyn, will X’rhun finally get to say the things that, until now, have been left unsaid?

It is probably unwise to consider such things mere bells after his friend has landed back in his life, but they are things X’rhun has considered long before now. His mind drifting as he travels to wonder what he would do differently if he could do it all again. ]

I have said, but I can say it again if you like. [ It seems a rhetorical statement at first, but X’rhun still follows it with, ] I missed you. So very much.

[And what he is supposed to say to such earnestness? Words like that strip him raw, when Ardyn already feels so barren after being stolen from his rest, given a lease on what might as well be a new life, unwanted and unneeded.

It would be easier to just drop the sentiment, or step around it, or reflect, or do anything except reply with equal truth. But Ardyn is just so… tired, that he cannot do anything except let it sink into him, settling in his bones, and conjure up his own reply. He loses some of his flippancy, as if it was taking a great effort to keep it upright in the first place.]

How kind it is to know that someone had been thinking of me with fondness — even if it’s a notion learnt too late. [A thin, wry grin.] I hadn’t much time to think of our departure from one another, you know. Only the fleeting few minutes before Noctis threw open the throne room doors, come to challenge me.

But in what moments I did have, several were spared for your memory. That says something, you know.

[ By now, he is used to the notion of time moving however it wants between worlds. What was mere minutes for Ardyn was weeks, moons to X’rhun. The Miqo’te has had a long time alone with his thoughts as he traveled, time to recount every interaction and to let his regret settle in, bone deep, with the rest. ]

It does. I ought to be flattered that you found the time to think of me at all.

[ Was it those thoughts, fleeting bits of memory, that tugged Ardyn along the Lifestream only to have him wash up in the middle of Ala Mhigo? He has no idea, and he doubts he ever will. Ardyn certainly has no desire to pursue that mystery, and if X’rhun were honest, he doesn’t really, either. ]

If you were to give some small thought to your future in Eorzea, are welcome to stay with me, you know.

[He makes a noise, a little ‘mm’ from the back of his throat. It would pair perfectly with a dismissive flick of a wrist if Ardyn felt the need to bother. Amber eyes gaze across the table at his friend, steady and questioning.]

Am I? [Not an offer that surprises him, really, given how generous X’rhun often is.]

And where is it that you stay, exactly? What do you do on this star? The same as before, wandering about and lending a helping hand to those who need it? If that is the case, then may I remind you of the phrase, ‘Been there, done that’?

[ X’rhun gazes back, a bevy of questions kept behind his own eyes. More than anything, he wants to know what this means for them, where they stand with each other. It’s selfish, he tells himself, to heap his feelings onto the other man when he’s but freshly arrived, awakened from what should have been his final sleep.

It's selfish to want to know if, without the chains of fate tightening around him, Ardyn might find room in his heart for X’rhun.

He sighs, ears drawing back and gaze flitting away for a moment ].

You’ve the right of it. I resumed my pilgrimage after returning home – it seemed only natural to pick up where I left off, after all.

I don’t suppose the promise of my company would be enough to persuade you to take to the road again?

[It should not be. He should not care. For he knows that seeking the company of X'rhun in this strange land would bring up considerations and damnable feelings about what they had discussed — heatedly, at times — back in that dreadful city named New Amsterdam. He does not speak on it, but they both know.

Ardyn does not know if he seeks that connection again; or rather, if he should seek it. If he wants anything at all, other than just to rest. Globetrotting sounds awful to his ears in this moment, knowing that body and mind have been thoroughly disappointed with one expectation, only to be granted another.

It would be unfair to reply now, to both himself and his friend.

And yet.]

You would not drag me about by the arm, expecting me to aid in your kind generosities, would you?

[ Ardyn would be well-within his rights to deny him, and there is a part of him that frankly expects it. His friend has been through much. Lifetimes and lifetimes or sorrow and anger and bitterness, disappointment upon disappointment, to say nothing of this latest – yet another lifetime where there should have been rest.

He doesn’t truly know if his mere presence is enough to soothe that ache.

What he gets is not a no, but a consideration. It surprises him, an ear flicking curiously in Ardyn’s direction while that treacherous hope begins to rise in his chest. His answer, however, comes easily enough. ]

When last I checked, you had not sworn the Duelist’s oath. I ask only for your company, not your assistance.

[It should be reassurance to know that there will be no expectation. No obligation to force himself into that old life of helpfulness when he knows he won’t fit the mould any longer; the shape of his heart and mind are all wrong now, twisted by time, cruelty, and circumstance.

It should be reassuring, yes. But knowing that he will have to watch, all the same, while X’rhun travels this world, doing work that harkens back to his days as a healer, still sits wrong in his stomach. Memory can be just as unsettling as experience, and he can’t turn his eyes away towards distraction when the other man will be so keen to extend his generosity to all those around him.

But it is still a... better reply than the alternative, and Ardyn lets a moment of silence linger, weighted, before he leans forward with his elbows pressed to the table.]

Acceptable, then, I suppose. I shall hold you to it, you know; even the barest whisper of wanting me help with your altruistic— [A frown, a waggle of fingers.] —work, and I might go flying away, like a Zu seeking to block out the sun.

[A fitting metaphor!]

[ X’rhun waits with what one would assume to be quiet patience, but there is an anxiousness that settles under his skin, winding his nerves tighter with every moment that passes without reply. It shouldn’t matter, he tells himself. Ardyn is free to do as he wishes, and perhaps X’rhun is selfish for wanting to have both his pilgrimage and Ardyn’s company.

Perhaps it is selfish to force Ardyn to watch X’rhun live a pale imitation of his own, long-abandoned life.

Acceptable, says Ardyn at last, and at once the strings of quiet tension are cut. X’rhun breathes out a small laugh, something that sounds pleased and a bit too relieved for his liking, but there’s naught he can do to stop it. ]

Have some faith in me, my friend. I’d not be so foolish as to scare you away.

[ Not after finally finding him again. ]

Now— [ a vague motion with his fork, the metal catching the lamplight of the room. ] Let us finish supper ere it gets cold. Tomorrow, I shall show you the city, and from there… well, we shall see where the road takes us.

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PSL; [YOU KNOW I LOST MY MIND]

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