armorials: <user name=livebites> (002)
NOCTIS LUCIS CAELUM ([personal profile] armorials) wrote2017-02-03 02:39 pm
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igster: (pic#)

CLOSE ENOUGH

[personal profile] igster 2017-03-30 10:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Something on the stove pops; Ignis barely hears it, but the only thing as well-honed in him besides Noct's general state of being is cooking sounds (probably more to the point burning sounds, by now) and so he stills for a moment, though--given the way he pulls back to look at Noct, pupils drowning the ambiguous sea-sky color of his eyes, maybe it's as much to let himself absorb and process how his name sounds on Noct's tongue like this, take it in without boiling over.

Much like the eggs are trying to do. Ignis manages a shaky sound like fond exasperation, though where it's directed is--all directions, really. Noct, himself, them, less fond exasperation that this is bloody necessary in the first place--he sighs and kisses Noct swiftly on the corner of the mouth, turning the exact minimum number of degrees required to get to the stove without actually detaching himself at all.
]

A moment, if you please.

[ This is the point where he discovers the spatula has rolled off into the dirt, and for a moment the temptation to just abandon all of this to kiss Noct silly is clear on his face; if the table would support more or less tackling Noct, there's a real chance that would have happened. As things are of course he has a passel of spare utensils around; he manages to rescue the eggs in a probably still edible state, pulls the skillet off the stove and...proceeds to muffle the welling of helpless laughter in Noct's shoulder, silent little shimmers rocking his back.

He's not quite moved to put his glasses back on, in fact he stays exactly where he is, just for a moment longer. Since he might have gone all of about six inches away in the first place.
]

My desire for you will be the death of us all, I fear. Or at the very least the malnutrition.

[ This isn't really an exaggeration, the others would resort to endless Cup Noodles, and man can only live on so much sodium alone. Still, given that Ignis is still taking advantage of every last possible second they have for more closeness, he can't actually mind too much. Or at all. ]
igster: (pic#)

[personal profile] igster 2017-03-31 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ignis has one hand on the edge of the table (his knees are supporting most of his weight, so they're not going to collapse it .....yet, at least) and the other loosely settled around one of Noct's hips; he is, unsurprisingly, amenable to Noct doing whatever he wants with them, curls his palm idly upwards to skim the inside of slim wrist with one thumb. In an absurd flight of philosophical fancy it strikes him that what he's really feeling, in the rush of blue veins, is Noct being alive; as a conceit it's spectacularly beyond malnutrition in terms of romance. Ignis elects not to give voice to it, because then he'd probably have to fling himself into the ocean or similar. Instead he picks up Noct's hand and brushes his mouth across the same little lines; it's nearly as ridiculous, just not verbally so. ]

Poetics are apparently not my strongest suit.

[ A little self-deprecating, but comfortably. Ignis is aware of the things he does well and cultivates those, rather than insecurity regarding the things he doesn't. In this case he's managed to rescue breakfast and make Noct laugh in the same minute; if that's not a win he doesn't know what is. Anyway, at least he won't be attempting to write sonnets, since ultimately the prince could expect more of the same. Eyes as blue as this one set of dishes Ignis liked in a store once, et cetera et cetera.

If he notices the flush he doesn't comment on it, considering the heat bubbling merrily away under his own skin it would hardly be fair. On which note his eyes drop shut a moment, then open to seek Noct's gaze in some easy marriage of intent and wry.
]

While I have you, on the topic of romance--

[ emphasis on the second syllable, because that's how Ignis' accent goes ]

Much as I enjoy our forays into, ah, carpe noctem*, as it were, perhaps we might try for avenues less capricious. I'm certain I could concoct Official Sounding reasons to steal you away.

(as opposed to diem, because seize the noct, get it; ignis is so very very clever)
Edited (edits to change literally one word i'm so sorry) 2017-03-31 04:55 (UTC)
aptronymic: (ig_10_zpsi3lwetnr)

IT'S STILL ME ...wouldn't it be so weird if another ignis just charged in here

[personal profile] aptronymic 2017-03-31 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ignis snorts, because he has been listening to Prompto and Noct complain about the thread count on their sleeping bags or whatever for so long it's just pleasant white noise at this point. Not that he doesn't also enjoy their rare appearances in actual buildings, he too likes a bed and plumbing, for instance, but it is part of the ritual of what they're made of to sigh and tut; Noct would think he'd taken a blow to the head otherwise. ]

Somewhere modest, I should think. The mere idea of privacy shames us more with decadence than silk sheets and marble floors could ever hope to manage.

[ Ever so deadpan, ever so dry, both affects seriously undercut by his eyelids slipping half closed to turn one sharp cheekbone into Noct's hand. After a second of what is clearly pure indulgence - which is probably as rare for Ignis as mischief - he rightens himself, one corner of his mouth tipping up into a lopsided half-smile. A caravan, or even a separate tent, would do just as well; anything to be alone without the deafening of seconds ticking by, rhythm merciless in his head. He lets the commentary on his abilities go by without comment, but his smile stretches over the rest of his mouth; if Noct feels like the brightest thing on Ignis' entire horizon, then he's made his point as it was meant, bare minimum eloquence at his disposal or not.

Speaking of bare minimum eloquence.
]

Now I've made the prospect of skiving off with me sound as romantic as malnutrition, goodness.

[ Ah-ha, so two can play at this "teasing" game. With "carpe noctem" in the mix already, may as well go on as he began, which is to say with mild absurdity. The idea of putting aside their respective duties for just as long as it takes to catch their breath decided, or at least put out into the atmosphere, Ignis captures Noct's hand back from his cheek to kiss the backs of his knuckles. He's been storing up these little gestures for years: Noct's hands rough on a practice sword making him want to trace each line and whorl, the exposed nape of his neck--Ignis thought of closing his mouth over the top vertebrae, precise and gentle. They've been side by side long enough for glimpses of every plane of skin, meaning: there's not one Ignis hasn't thought about. Sketching Noct's outlines with his hands and mouth, filling in all the edges he's imagined.

So. Talking may not be the only use this proposed privacy sees. For now, Ignis judges they have a few more minutes to spare; he eyes Noct, considering and sly.
]

Hmm. What are the odds you'll hear our fellows return before they're upon us?

[ It probably helps that while Gladio could glide smoothly and unnoticed through the trees, Prompto might as well bring a herd of elephants behind him. ]
aptronymic: (310117ffxv_60)

plants flag they're not allowed :E

[personal profile] aptronymic 2017-04-01 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ A thought bubble despairing for his hair blips briefly overhead for about half a second, then pops into nothingness as Ignis reasons it's not that noticeable, not like the spiky part at the front, and Noct's fingers feel good enough to override the rest of his better judgment. He used the last of that rescuing the eggs.

Though he is still keeping an ear out for their friends himself, so between the two of them--surely it will work out all right, even as his muscles are turning to water under Noct's curious mouth. Ignis makes a subvocal noise of approval, presses him closer with a hand flat at the back of his head. They both know they're at the end of the hourglass, though, so instead of letting himself drown totally Ignis picks up the thread of their conversation, hand in Noct's hair unabashedly like scritching a cat now. It continues to be apt that Ignis is thinking in cat metaphors since he's played by who he is, cats also being hellishly selective in what they're willing to care about. And terribly picky eaters, and--Ignis will share this later, probably.
]

Perhaps we'll be truly daring and spring for running water, as well.

[ That could also be perfectly innocent, real bathing being a nicety as well, but much like a bed in this case definitely isn't. Especially not uttered as it is, Ignis tipping his chin up to let Noct go wandering to his heart's content in the vicinity of his jaw and throat. So if nothing else Noctis will probably never have to guess what he wants; he believes in direct communication. Possibly because it's the best way to meet Noct head-on, he'd just never really let himself imagine it would be to convey how many sensitive places there are on the underside of his jaw. Noct has probably found most of them by the time Ignis clutches one of his upper arms out of reflex, looking around in his peripheral vision. ]

I think we're about to be encroached upon. Unless I miss my guess, and I don't mind saying I hope I do.
aptronymic: (310117ffxv_43)

[personal profile] aptronymic 2017-04-02 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Noct's expression makes Ignis somewhat abruptly and crashingly aware he is, if possible, now even more attuned to the prince's little hurts and disappointments; it won't do at all to dwell now, there's nothing to be done, but he chances a quick, hard squeeze of hands before they're out of reach, passable vision owlish as he fixes it on midnight blue. ]

You would say such things when I can hardly relish hearing them.

[ A little teasing, fond and wry, but--Ignis' gaze turns intent as he reaches up to put Noct's hair to rights as best it can be; that's probably a thing no one would bat an eye at coming upon, given the constant fuss over the entire group's tendency to become disheveled just by standing downwind of dirt. The focus on Ignis' face owes less to fastidiousness than it does to laser-focused affection, of course, but that's probably a mutable conceit at the best of times. He brushes a mostly imaginary smudge from Noct's cheekbone and steps back himself, puts palpable distance between them with a little sigh. ]

Soon, I promise. As soon as we can manage.

[ Actually verbalizing I promise is fairly extraneous, Noctis knows what it sounds like when he makes those, formally or not. He leans with excessive nonchalance by one hip next to the stove, fiddling with his own hair unconsciously before his expression goes all wide and quasi-alarmed, since. You know, his glasses are still sitting over there on the folding table. A quick, sharp gesture for them - thank you, Noct, you're a gentleman and a scholar - and he looks relatively himself, if not a little less terminally even-keeled than usual. Color slightly high, eyes a little brighter; he can only attest to either of these because he can see them on Noctis, a fact he will take no small satisfaction in for how well-concealed any smugness on his part might be. ]
aptronymic: (310117ffxv_55)

[personal profile] aptronymic 2017-04-04 01:14 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ignis holds very still for this lightly ceremonious glasses replacement, rather like he'd do for some kind of official inspection. Especially since he can tell Noct is inspecting him to some degree, though since exactly what that might before remains a mystery, he just hikes an inquisitive brow, the sort of non-verbal "hm?" that's just as content without a real response. Either way the gesture is sweet and, if he's honest, a little arousing; there's little point in remarking upon, yet another time, how undone he is by the simplest of Noct's touches. Or not touches, or generally ...doing anything in his vicinity at all.

Utterly hopeless.
]

Ah. [ A small, self-contained smile: ] There you are.

[ Features crystal-clear once again, though Ignis can't spend as long as he would like studying them. Instead he laughs one of his husky, lower-register laughs, tilting his head to one side in an angle that just skirts flirtatious because he can hear Prompto's delighted crowing drawing closer with a swiftness. ]

I shall endeavor not to disappoint [ pause for effect ], your highness.

[ Then he goes to dispense breakfast and simply dare anyone to complain about the quality of the eggs. Go on, do it. ]