[Something bristles in Noctis when Nyx tells him that he doesn't have to pretend to be fine. It isn't his pride crying foul (he hasn't the energy for such a thing), nor is it some wayward sense of shame. It's only that pretending, for the majority of his life, was all he knew. Pretending to be more mature than he was, pretending to be fine watching his father's energy drain more and more each year, keeping the Wall up to protect Insomnia. Pretending he wasn't going to feel in over his head after inheriting a kingdom, a war. Pretending to be more than he ever felt he truly was.
Only recently did he learn to step out of that shell, to find comfort in not retreating within himself so far that it crystallized into stifling ennui. But it's easy to shrink back into old habits when faced with loss too sudden to comprehend. Easy to comfortably retreat back into that shell and pretend again, until all of his emotions felt like they were in their correct places -- whatever that happened to be.
But he doesn't respond, not just yet. He lets Nyx talk, and while he's been good with keeping eye contact with the man in every conversation up until now, he just can't seem to find his gaze this time. His eyes settle on somewhere nondescript, to the side and below. The Glaive, had experienced too much, too fast, as well; casualties of war, feeling the need to keep moving in the face of loss. The insight is unexpected, but... quietly appreciated.]
I don't care if you give a damn about me or not. [He frowns at his wording, realizing it didn't convey what he wanted. Noctis tries again.] I don't mind if you do, is what I mean. I'm actually grateful, even though I know it doesn't look like it.
[He clenches his hand into a loose fist, looking at the Ring adorning his finger.] That last night in Insomnia -- the one I remember -- I had accepted what I was, finally. A King, the shortest reigning one in Lucian history, probably. [A scoff, humorless, but with a faint twisting of sad, lopsided grin. It fades, as quickly as it had arrived.]
The grief of... everything I had lost, I twisted it into acceptance and motivation. The strength and stubbornness to end the darkness, to see it all through to the end. It was fuel for the fire, and for once I actually felt like I was living up to the role destiny threw at my feet. I had a use. A purpose. [A beat.] But here... sometimes that motivation feels too hard to hold onto, you know? And then I feel like I've rewound ten years -- no, twenty even. I'm just a kid who doesn't know what to do with himself, anymore. I'm supposed to lead. I'm supposed to walk tall, and be strong.
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Date: 2017-07-07 01:01 am (UTC)Only recently did he learn to step out of that shell, to find comfort in not retreating within himself so far that it crystallized into stifling ennui. But it's easy to shrink back into old habits when faced with loss too sudden to comprehend. Easy to comfortably retreat back into that shell and pretend again, until all of his emotions felt like they were in their correct places -- whatever that happened to be.
But he doesn't respond, not just yet. He lets Nyx talk, and while he's been good with keeping eye contact with the man in every conversation up until now, he just can't seem to find his gaze this time. His eyes settle on somewhere nondescript, to the side and below. The Glaive, had experienced too much, too fast, as well; casualties of war, feeling the need to keep moving in the face of loss. The insight is unexpected, but... quietly appreciated.]
I don't care if you give a damn about me or not. [He frowns at his wording, realizing it didn't convey what he wanted. Noctis tries again.] I don't mind if you do, is what I mean. I'm actually grateful, even though I know it doesn't look like it.
[He clenches his hand into a loose fist, looking at the Ring adorning his finger.] That last night in Insomnia -- the one I remember -- I had accepted what I was, finally. A King, the shortest reigning one in Lucian history, probably. [A scoff, humorless, but with a faint twisting of sad, lopsided grin. It fades, as quickly as it had arrived.]
The grief of... everything I had lost, I twisted it into acceptance and motivation. The strength and stubbornness to end the darkness, to see it all through to the end. It was fuel for the fire, and for once I actually felt like I was living up to the role destiny threw at my feet. I had a use. A purpose. [A beat.] But here... sometimes that motivation feels too hard to hold onto, you know? And then I feel like I've rewound ten years -- no, twenty even. I'm just a kid who doesn't know what to do with himself, anymore. I'm supposed to lead. I'm supposed to walk tall, and be strong.
[He drops his hand.] I just feel tired.