Noctis is quiet for a long moment, his fingers equally tense in Ignis' grasp. It's been months since that moment- months since the vision he'd received of his fate, even more since he faced down Bahamut and learned the truth of what it meant to be Chosen. Months since Ignis originally told him, quietly and carefully, that he already knew the truth, before Noctis could even say it. Now here he is on the other side of things.
Funny, how time and distance and a repeat of history doesn't make any of it the least bit easier. He truly wishes that wasn't the case. If Ignis never got that vision... he wouldn't ever have to say it. Not until the day came and it was too late to stop.
It takes longer than he'd like to admit to find his voice again, quiet and torn.]
I... I know what you saw. I've seen it too.
[The throne, the old kings and queens stealing his life away, blade after blade. The face of his future, lined cheeks and tired eyes he doesn't yet have but can recognize as his own. His father's sword, aimed at his heart. The dawn, waiting to rise.
His fingers tremble a little, and he tightens them, trying to force it away. It's fine. It's fine, he's accepted it. It shouldn't matter right now.]
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Noctis is quiet for a long moment, his fingers equally tense in Ignis' grasp. It's been months since that moment- months since the vision he'd received of his fate, even more since he faced down Bahamut and learned the truth of what it meant to be Chosen. Months since Ignis originally told him, quietly and carefully, that he already knew the truth, before Noctis could even say it. Now here he is on the other side of things.
Funny, how time and distance and a repeat of history doesn't make any of it the least bit easier. He truly wishes that wasn't the case. If Ignis never got that vision... he wouldn't ever have to say it. Not until the day came and it was too late to stop.
It takes longer than he'd like to admit to find his voice again, quiet and torn.]
I... I know what you saw. I've seen it too.
[The throne, the old kings and queens stealing his life away, blade after blade. The face of his future, lined cheeks and tired eyes he doesn't yet have but can recognize as his own. His father's sword, aimed at his heart. The dawn, waiting to rise.
His fingers tremble a little, and he tightens them, trying to force it away. It's fine. It's fine, he's accepted it. It shouldn't matter right now.]