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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Trying to shoo your stalwart traveling companion away so fervently? What have I done to offend your delicate sensibilities today, X’rhun?

[The retort comes paired with a smile and a teasing twinge to his words — Ardyn’s usual. He gestures with his hand, a flick of the wrist at the other man, his breath starting to coil in the chill.]

Oh, I could waltz off right now if that is what you truly want. But... no, I do not think I would return to the inn. And then you’d have to spend the rest of your day searching for me, for I can promise that I would not make myself easy to locate.

[And not all purposefully, of course. Though time has passed, and to the point where Ardyn has fallen into a steady rhythm by X’rhun’s side, as if having him close has become the state of normal as it had many times before, he still feels like a stranger in this land. Odd customs, magic, races — places and histories he tries to commit to memory, to organize it in his vast memory and experiences, making room for this new life of his. None of it has fallen into familiarity yet, at least, not with the sort of comfort he feels in his friend’s presence; an anchor in a storm of newness, if he had to make a comparison.

Even so. Not that he wouldn’t go floating off on his own, making mischief not unlike an unattended child, and it’s tempting to do so, but— well. He had hoped to keep company with him today, to remain close as they had been, falling into old habits as easily as a second skin, and tugged forth by curiosity.

A curiosity that grows the more it seems like X’rhun is trying to keep him at a distance, naturally.]

[ He’s not trying to keep Ardyn at a distance as much as he’s trying to keep Ardyn from seeing what he’ll be picking up from the delivery moogle. What with it being Starlight, or close to it, X’rhun thought it appropriate to get a gift for his stalwart traveling companion and dear friend.

But of course, Ardyn only listens to X’rhun when it suits him, and X’rhun may have to satisfy himself with giving his gift a bit early. ]

You’d make me trudge my way through the snow and this dreadful cold for the rest of the day to search for you? How cruel!

[ An over exaggeration, of course, punctuated by X’rhun pressing a hand to his chest, woolen gloves sinking into the many layers he wears, and tossing his head back. ]

I’ll not suffer for your inability to stay where it is already nice and warm, thank you very much!

[ Usually the delivery moogle can be found milling about near the theatre, but the weather has driven it to seek shelter at the nearby leatherworker’s guildhall. X’rhun kicks the snow from his boots as he enters the building’s covered porch. ]

But there’s no turning back now, as we’ve arrived at our destination. I don’t suppose I might be able to persuade you to cover your eyes for a bit, hm?

[It’s funny how things change. Once upon a time, he had been frozen solid and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces by Shiva herself, all for the sake of quieting his exchange with Noctis. He had felt nothing then, not a tinge of pain, not a single nerve going numb under the fatal subzero temperatures. The Glacian’s freeze was nothing to him.

Now, the icy wind numbs his lips, his cheeks. Now, his skin raises with goose pimples beneath his many-layered garb, specifically tailored for the winter. (And in shades of black, naturally, like any self-respecting and/or self-deprecating Lucis Caelum would wear.) With the Starscourge destroyed, the cold is cold again, and his back tightens with a shiver that threatens to clamber up it, but he keeps purposefully flippant as he follows X’rhun.]

Cover my eyes?

[Snow shuffles underfoot. He “accidentally” kicks a mound in the other’s direction before they reach the porch.]

How ominous! If you’re going to be duplicitous or mysterious or both, don’t pretend to be cordial, too, by allowing me the pleasure of ignorance until the last moment.

[He’s obviously just picking on X’rhun, because Ardyn lifts up a hand to cover his eyes a second later.]

[ X’rhun’s mouth tugs into a frown, that not-accidentally-at-all kicked bit of snow going right down the back of his boot. The cold wastes no time seeping through his pantleg, making him shiver all over again. ]

I am not being duplicitous.

[ So huffy!! All this fuss over a little Starlight present, and it could have been avoided had Ardyn simply stayed put instead of trailing along after him like a lost puppy.

With Ardyn’s eyes now covered, he slips into the guildhall, exchanging brief words with the moogle milling about just inside the door. The package he’s handed is wrapped in plain brown paper for shipping, so it could be that X’rhun had Ardyn cover his eyes to stop him from getting into it with the moogle rather than keeping his gift a secret.

The package gets shoved into an inside pocket of X’rhun’s heavy winter coat and he does the buttons back up as he returns to the porch. ]

There we are. Shall we head back?

[He’s on good behavior (kicked snow notwithstanding), not even bothering to peek through his fingers as X’rhun goes in to do… something or other. Honestly, with all this build-up (that’s mostly Ardyn’s fault for following in the first place, yes) he expects to see something other than his friend merely standing there expectantly once he’s allowed to lower his hand.

He stares at him for a moment, arching a brow. His lips purse into a frown.]

What, that’s it, then? Not going to tell me what you’ve gone and wandered in there for?

[Not that he has to, but Ardyn makes a show of standing on his toes, as if to peer past him at the entrance to the guildhall. Let him lean at just the right angle, X’rhun, and he might catch sight of that poor moogle within.]

Don’t tell me I covered my eyes for nothing.

Mayhap I will, once we're someplace warm and dry and I've not got melting snow in my boot.

[ The cold makes him testy, even in preferable company. If he is to give his Starlight present a bit early, thanks in no small part to Ardyn's constant prodding, then he would do it somewhere comfortable at the very least. ]

Come on.

[ X'rhun brushes past him, tugging on the hem of his coat as if that will stop him from gawking. (There is a flash of a tell-tale pom in the doorway, an unmistakable blue hat and a fuzzy little face that peers back at Ardyn once they spot each other.)

But X'rhun is already walking away, retracing their path back to the inn. No time to antagonize a moogle unless Ardyn wants to be left behind! ]

[Aha, there it is, the little mail moogle, the little fiend. When their eyes meet, Ardyn’s smile curves into a shape that he often saved for men like Ravus, with whom he knew he could annoy with the smallest effort. Were it not for how eager X’rhun is to leave, or his wilting good humor, he might have spared a few words for the little creature — patronizing ones, likely, paired with a kupo! at the end.

But today, X’rhun is spared of having to deal with that. He mutters a—]

Fine, fine. Are you always such a grouch when the weather turns frosty?

[Or when someone kicks snow in his boots, but surely that has nothing to do with it.

He follows him along the path they just took, glancing about with mild curiosity, and continuing his ramblings.]

I wonder why the moogles in this world are such a bother. I really do prefer the ones from Eos.

[Stuffed and silent.]

[ Even through his woolen hat, he heard that, the fabric shifting as his ears swivel back in Ardyn’s direction. X’rhun calls back over his shoulder, ]

You have been to Ala Mhigo, remember? ‘Twas not exactly a cold place, and even after all my years on the road I’ve yet to find any sort of fondness for winter weather.

[ Still, he slows a little to allow Ardyn to catch up. He finds walking alongside him preferable, almost comforting in a way to know that they’re no longer separated by world, no longer bound by the promise that one day they will be parted, shunted back to their homes. ]

The stuffed toys from Eos, you mean? I think I much prefer them, too.

[ Even if he has never seen one! X’rhun is amenable on the worst of days, but sometimes moogles manage to pick at his otherwise bottomless patience – not enough to antagonize them, certainly. He’ll leave that to Ardyn. ]

[And Ardyn does such a fabulous job of it, too. If there was one man who was born to annoy creatures like moogles, it is Ardyn Lucis Caelum.]

Yes, they are far less talkative than their living, breathing brethren. That one, you know, always tries to give me sass -- and I've done not a thing to deserve it!

[That's a flat-out lie.

But, ever clever and ever prodding, he slips in a-] Did you have business with it? [The mail moogle, hm.]

Oh, have you now?

[ X’rhun shoots his companion a look, a twinkle of amusement finding its way into his eyes in spite of the cold slowly seeping through his many layers. ]

Knowing you as I do, I would say there is as good a chance you started it as the moogle did.

[ In X’rhun’s estimation, it’s about a 50/50 split, but at least Ardyn has resorted to annoying moogles – who could frankly stand to have someone annoy them for a change – and not venting his frustration upon wayward princes and their friends.

Ah, but there it is. The prodding has begun. He gives his best noncommittal shrug. ]

I might have.

[He will not be dissuaded from his prodding, noncommittal shrug or no. X’rhun’s answer might as well have been an affirmative, and Ardyn’s mouth curls into a wider grin, one that flashes his teeth when he huffs out a laugh.]

Really now.

[It doesn’t take a master of deductive reasoning to put two and two together, even if it is just assumption with no proof.]

And did our little mail-toting friend present you with said mail? I doubt your business with that creature would have been nothing more than a friendly chat. Hm?

[where!! where is it!]

[ X’rhun knows better than to try and fight this, though he can play at it until they arrive back at their shared room at the Carline Canopy. ]

And how do you know that? Mayhap that moogle is a friend of mine!

[ It is no such thing, though X’rhun’s own dislike for the little furry nuisance is nowhere near what Ardyn seems to harbor for it. ]

[The bark of his laughter is sharper this time, ringing in the winter air.]

Oh yes, you're friends with the moogle, and I'm a chocobo's uncle!

[He reaches out with a hand, grasping at X'rhun's wrist and attempting to playfully pull him in his direction, eyes flitting across X'rhun's form.]

Come now, where are you hiding it? Let me see.

[ X’rhun goes where tugged, sliding in the snow because he honestly has no choice in the matter. Thankfully, his thick winter garb makes it fairly difficult to tell where he might be hiding something. If he were hiding something.

Which he is certainly not. ]

You are awfully determined to make my rather personal little errand your business, aren’t you?

[ (Though perhaps if Ardyn were to look especially hard, one side of X’rhun’s coat fluffs out a bit more than the other.) ]

You said you were not being duplicitous, remember?

[A little “hm” noise, hand releasing his friend’s wrist if only to place it on his own hip.]

So what is there to hide? Other than…

[His other hand, meanwhile, presses flat against X’rhun’s chest before slowly trailing down, stopping at that strange curve that puffs out just a tad more than the other side.]

This?

Edited 2019-12-17 19:59 (UTC)

[ The paper packaging crinkles with the pass of Ardyn's hand, one corner of the box poking into his side. It's not that he's happy to see Ardyn - there really is a box in his pocket. ]

I am trying to surprise you. And I would have done if you'd only stayed put like I asked.

[ Any annoyance he might be able to muster flickers and dies in the face of resignation. He knew, of course, that once Ardyn got it in his head to tag along that his hopes for surprising him were well and truly a thing of the past. Now, it seems, so are his hopes of getting back to their room before Ardyn even opens the blasted present.

He heaves a sigh, his breath curling into the cool winter air, as he tugs his hand free from Ardyn's grip. He has to undo a few buttons to get at the pocket on the inside of his coat and withdraw the box, the cold finding all new ways to get at his skin. ]

Happy Starlight, my friend.

[ Resigned and annoyed though he may be over this whole excursion, there is an undeniable note of warm fondness in his voice, as he hands the neatly wrapped little box over. ]

Are you satisfied now?

[His touch is forcibly detached, but that’s fine; he’s been stubborn enough to have his curiosity sated, and Ardyn can’t help but look satisfied, even crossing his arms across his chest as X’rhun fishes out the package.

Happy Starlight, my friend.

Whatever Ardyn might have quipped in return, it dies on the vine, smothered by those few words. Damnable as it may be, he cannot beat back the memory that floods back, those awfully warm associations that come paired with Starlight gifts, first experienced on the world which they met — universes away.]

Starlight?

[He echoes, and— of course, the winter months are upon them, are they not? Only natural that a winter holiday would soon follow, and he had been a fool to forget about this one in particular. His features soften, though perhaps Ardyn makes a cognizant attempt to keep his eyes down at the package.]

Ah, yes… the last one, it’s lost now, isn’t it? To whatever void in-between worlds may exist.

[Something rueful crosses his face, but he takes the gift all the same. Fingers begin to deftly unwrap the paper.]

I must admit, you’ve caught me off-guard. I’ve not a thing for you.

[ The town is filthy with Starlight decorations, now covered in a layer of snow, but given that there is no such thing where Ardyn is from, perhaps he didn’t put two and two together. X’rhun can’t help but smile, mollified by the fact that he’s managed to somehow surprise Ardyn after all, in spite of his meddling.

X’rhun does up his coat again, somehow not finding the cold quite as bothersome while he watches Ardyn tear the paper away from the little box. Lifting the lid will reveal a flash of familiar blue-green, a swirling, subtle pattern not unlike ocean waves. ]

Lucky for you, I am well acquainted with the master of the Weaver’s Guild in Ul’dah. He assured me naught but the best work.

[ The scarf is not a perfect replica of the one X’rhun had gifted Ardyn before, though it is close. When passing his commission onto the guildmaster, X’rhun thought to combine the gifts he’d given Ardyn on El Nysa into one. So, there is a flash of gold in the weave, the result of small, shining threads worked into the garment that glimmer like stars caught in the waves. ]

I hope you don’t think it cheating that I’ve given you the same thing twice now. And you know you needn't get me anything. I don't mind.

[Now, that’s a familiar sight. A familiar color, too, with a newfound sparkling twinkle of gold twined through the fabric. Ardyn lifts it up gently between forefinger and thumb, the rest of the scarf pooled neatly in the box, and — despite everything — a smile of a more sincere sort cracks along his features.]

Oh, you know me all too well, dear friend. That any sort of scarf will not go amiss, not when it comes from you.

[He says it with a teasing lilt, but something in his gut cannot quite make it all that prodding. He’s remembering now, keenly, what he had felt on that day during their time on El Nysa — how he had been strangely caught-off guard by anyone giving him a gift, how he had not known how to parse it; easier to tuck it away in some dark corner of his mind, in that deep mire of regret and hatred, and forget about what it might mean to have someone who cares.

Leveling amber eyes back to X’rhun, he’s struck with that same feeling, but now he has nowhere to hide it. Tired as he is, all the life wrung out of him in those thousands of years, the betrayal of the gods and family and destiny alike, he is still unable to find a place to partition away the treacherously warm feeling blooming across his insides.

(That should be terrifying. Maybe it is, in a way; easy enough to recall the other world they visited, too, that city of New Amsterdam and its dreams, and how he had balked at the revelations unearthed when X’rhun visited his own. How scared he had been.)

And yet, with a beat of silence uncharacteristic for Ardyn, as if he is struck by the thoughts in his head and not the reality he stands in now, he holds out his hand and offers the scarf to the other.]

Tie it for me?

[ His eyes stay on Ardyn’s face as he lifts the lid away, as he draws the sea-colored fabric with its motes of gold from the box. Watching, waiting for a reaction of any sort, and what X’rhun gets is a smile the likes of which he has rarely seen from his friend, if ever. It steals his breath in a way the cold has utterly failed to do, and not for the first time, X’rhun has to silently thank whatever deities might be watching for this rather unorthodox second chance they’ve been given.

Their gazes meet, and X’rhun cannot help the way he smiles back, warm and openly affectionate. In the time since Ardyn reappeared in his life, he hasn’t had it in him to bring up the things that transpired in New Amsterdam before they were returned to their homes, the dream they shared and all that happened after. Just this once, however, he lowers carefully placed walls. ]

I’d be happy to.

[ He takes the scarf like it’s a delicate thing, getting up on his toes so he can loop it around Ardyn’s neck, slipping it over the many layers of his winter garb. He ties it rather simply, figuring that it’s best if the scarf itself is the focal point, and he has to admit that for all of Redolent Rose’s… eccentricities, the man truly is a master of his craft. It’s a lovely piece of work.

But it’s also not where his gaze lingers, eyes lifting to find Ardyn’s again soon enough. ]

You look absolutely dashing.

[X’rhun’s acquiescence is enough to make him dip his head down, just slightly, so that he can reach to loop the scarf around his neck. He can feel the subtle sensation as the fabric brushes against his skin, shimmering in the light like ocean waves reflecting a night sky, and he watches him all the while.

What a fitting gesture, he thinks. Close like this, like they have been — inseparable since his arrival in this world, and were it not for the forces of the universe splitting them apart, perhaps even before that, too.

Ardyn swallows against the compliment, searching for his usual degree of flippancy, to take it in stride. His success is minimal at best.]

All the better if you are the one to dress me, or so you would say.

[Their look holds there, though he tilts his head with a smile to match.]

Thank you, X’rhun. You really are such a sentimental sort. I dare say it might be starting to rub off.

[ There is a part of X’rhun that wishes to reach out and take hold of this moment, to wrap his arms around it and not let it go. There’s a warmth that’s settled between them, sitting at odds with the cold. A soft, intimate moment that is so unlike the moments they have shared in the past, kept at arm’s length by Ardyn’s high walls and X’rhun’s unwillingness to do anything that might frighten the other off.

It’s… nice.

X’rhun offers a lopsided smile in return, his fingers smoothing over the scarf, over the plane of Ardyn’s chest. ]

My sense of style is impeccable, ‘tis true.

[ A chuckle, barely more than an amused huff of air made visible in the chill of winter. Before he has a chance to think better of it, to remind himself of the careful distance he has been keeping with his feelings since Ardyn’s appearance, the miqo’te gets up on his toes again to press a brief kiss to the line of Ardyn’s jaw ].

You needn’t thank me. Perhaps I’ll get you used to the idea of Starlight yet.

[And just like that, X’rhun is lifting himself to place a kiss along his jawline, and it feels like a barrier is cracking along its edges. They have kissed before, of course — hungry things, wanting things — but this is different. Perhaps the inherent warmth is due to the cold swirling all about them, and nothing with his heartbeat colliding against his ribcage. Certainly so.

He exhales, breath curling white. The other’s scent had always been such a pleasant thing, comfortable— it felt like—]

Mm. Well. I suppose I have no complaints to levy against it today. Enjoy it while it lasts.

[—home. Since when had the other begin to feel that way to him? Where’s that old fear, has its edge been dulled with time, with a wretched Prophecy finally fulfilled?]

…Perhaps we might find ourselves someplace warmer now?

[Now that Ardyn has finished accosting X’rhun, he’s okay with heading indoors and out of the snow.]

I thought you’d never ask.

[ As loath as he is to step away from Ardyn, to break whatever spell seems to have settled over them both with the simple act of giving a gift, he is very ready to get out of this cold. In fact, retiring to their shared room with a roaring fire and a bottle of wine seems like a fine way to wrap up the evening, and he makes a note to ask the proprietress if she has such a thing on hand.

He steps away at last, allowing the cold to permeate the space between them yet again. Perhaps jokingly, perhaps not, he offers Ardyn his arm. ]

Shall we?

[He chuckles, the sound still very Ardyn-like even though it lacks its usual brand of flippancy, or patronization.

He extends his arm in turn, loops it around the crook of X’rhun’s.]

Off we go, then. Lead the way, O escort of mine, so that I might show off my new scarf for all to behold.

[Snug around his neck, a perfect memory of before and of now.]

We shall have a chat by the fire when we return.

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