#non-noct muse

[rexmajestatis]

@sunshinetechnophile

When Ignis opened the door, he looked quietly confused, and after a moment of silence, he wondered expectantly, “…Hello?”

Prompto cleared his throat and shook his head. “Heyyy, Igs,” he greeted, voice only slightly unsteady.

Ignis’s confusion shifted to concern in a heartbeat, and he stepped aside to let Prompto through the door. He didn’t ask any questions as Prompto shuffled past him until he could set his camera down on the coffee table, and he sank to his knees on the floor. Saffron and Pandora were already peering at him curiously from the other side of the table, and he patted the floor until they both slunk over to investigate.

By the time he was bundling both puppies into his lap, Ignis was crouching beside him, wondering, “Did something happen?”

“You, uh—“ Prompto cleared his throat again. “You heard about the meteor shower, right?” He waited just long enough to see Ignis nod once. “Right, see, I went to get some pictures, and it was going great, and then…” He snorted and shook his head. “And then all I could think was ‘wow, he’d have loved this,’ and next thing I know I’m bawling like a baby in the middle of an empty field.”

Ignis drew in a slightly strangled breath, and for a second Prompto almost wished he had gone somewhere else. This couldn’t have been fair to Ignis. But the moment passed, and Ignis’s hand landed on the back of Prompto’s neck, squeezing comfortingly.

“I miss him, too.”

Prompto didn’t know if Ignis had ever actually said it. He suspected the answer was no. At least that was what he got from how much the quiet admission weighed.

“So, uh.” Prompto pulled Saffron-with-the-studded-collar closer to his chest. “Just gonna borrow your puppies for a while.”

“Of course.”

They lapsed into silence after that, melancholic but companionable all the same. The puppies fell asleep eventually, Saffron snoring in Prompto’s ear like a miniature train whistle.

“You know,” Ignis began slowly…some amount of time later (ten minutes? an hour? who was keeping track?), “I have most of a bottle of wine in the kitchen. I had intended to use it for cooking, so it’s not very good, but…”

Hands full with a puppy, Prompto instead leaned over to bonk his head against Ignis’s shoulder. “Igster, you are my favorite person right now.”

Ignis smiled just slightly as he got to his feet. “I’ll go find us a pair of glasses.”

[rexmajestatis]

@lucianmade

It was hard to keep track of time when there was no real way to tell when day was turning to night or when night was turning to day. Nisha stopped trying fairly early on. It just…seemed like such a small, unimportant detail, compared to everything else that was going on. She wanted to get Noct’s opinion on it, but…well.

A lot of things seemed like small details in his absence, really.

It didn’t take long before the others began acquiring apartments. Of course they did. They were always so much better at practical things than she was.

She slept on Ignis’s couch, because she couldn’t bring herself to care enough to look for a place of her own. Besides, she appreciated the company, and she suspected he did, too. True enough, she hadn’t known Ignis as well as Noct had, but she was pretty sure he didn’t actually know how to function if he wasn’t taking care of anyone other than himself.

And maybe she was taking him for granted, just a bit. He made it easy. He never complained. He didn’t scold her, he didn’t nag her to find a job to do or her own apartment, he rarely asked her to make any sort of decisions. He was on autopilot just as much as Nisha was.

But most things come to an end eventually. Bad or good—and she was willing to bet, in retrospect, that the living arrangement didn’t actually count as good—most things ended in time.

The wake-up call was actually fairly unexpected. There was no dramatic shouting match, no words to be regretted later, no ultimatums.

Ignis kept his apartment spotless, and Nisha dropped a pile of laundry in just the wrong place on the floor. He had been gone for a few days, and she hadn’t remembered to pick up after herself before he got back.

She watched in something like slow motion—like a horror movie—as he tripped on the pile and went sprawling, slamming his chin into the floor with enough force that she swore the apartment rattled. She was sort of glad he couldn’t actually see just how near he had come to bashing his face on the corner of the coffee table.

Like an exclamation point, an empty soda tipped off of the coffee table and smashed as it hit the hardwood, and Nisha cringed at the noise. She hid her face behind her hands, peeking at Ignis through her fingers.

“Nisha!” he barked, and it was the most awake and present she had heard him in months. She scrambled to his side as he sat up, only for him to wave her off, and she redirected herself towards the kitchen to fetch a broom and a dustpan, hastily sweeping the shards of the bottle into it before scampering back to the kitchen just as quickly to dump the dustpan’s contents in the bin.

It was…a very clear reminder that Nisha had barged into his life, and for all that he didn’t complain, he wasn’t actually getting anything out of letting her stay.

She waited until she was finished cleaning up the broken glass before she mumbled, “I’ll be out of your hair in a couple days.”

The response she got was a frank, “Nisha, we both know you don’t have anywhere to go, and I’m not certain how living off of someone else’s couch would be an improvement.”

She stared down at the floor, fingers clenched in the fabric of her pants. “I need to do something, though,” she mumbled towards the floor.

And maybe it had been a wake up call for him, too, as he heaved a sigh and offered, like an olive branch, “Then you go hunting with me next time, and you leave the apartment every so often, and you show everyone that their princess hasn’t crawled into a hole and died.”

His voice was level enough that she risked a glance at his face, and already he looked as if his anger had cooled to exasperation.

“…And what if she has?” she asked quietly. She certainly felt like she had crawled into a hole and died, sometimes.

“Then I will lower a rope to you,” he replied, finally levering himself up, off of the floor, “and you’ll climb out.”

[rexmajestatis]

@noctibert

The train ride to Cartanica is uneventful once everyone stops fighting amongst themselves, but Ignis can sense another argument brewing as the train pulls to a halt in Cartanica station. They all know the mines are not going to be safe, and as far as Gladio is concerned, even just pacing on the train is too dangerous for Ignis.

(He can’t help but to wonder how close he came to being left behind in Altissia entirely. It’s not a comforting thought.)

The call is not Gladio’s to make, though. It isn’t even Ignis’s. As with most things, it is up to Noctis.

Cartanica station is hectic and Ignis can barely hear the others if he falls more than a few paces behind. Eventually, Prompto catches his sleeve and tows him along until they get to the elevator.

And Ignis…pauses, lingering just outside the elevator. “Well, Noct?” he wonders slowly, and his grip on his cane tightens as he prepares for the blow to land. ‘You should stay here, Ignis. We can’t afford to babysit you.’

That isn’t what he hears, though. Instead, Noctis stammers, tripping over his words for a moment. “Iggy, I— I don’t—“ He falls silent with an aggravated noise, and his fingers instead simply close around the edge of Ignis’s sleeve and tug.

Ignis’s smile is tired and somewhat half-hearted, but gentle all the same as he steps onto the elevator. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

He has no delusions that whatever happens in the mines will be good, but even so, it has to be better than the alternative of being left behind.

[rexmajestatis]

@nicxan 

“Have you ever wondered,” Shai asks as soon as Dan is on the steamer, in a musing tone that seems fuzzy and distant, “if perhaps we don’t truly die as some sort of punishment?” They’re coated in blood, absentmindedly tapping the blade of a knife against their prosthetic leg, and there’s a vial with the gleam of cantigaster venom in their other hand.

Dan’s alarm shows on his face, evidently, as Shai offers him a narrow smile and a light, soothing, “None of it’s mine, and I don’t intend for any of it to be.”

Dan doesn’t feel especially comforted, and after a moment, Shai sets the blade and the vial down on the floor, making a show of nudging both of them away with their boot. At last Dan approaches, not quite warily but ill at ease nonetheless.

“Do you think everyone down here deserves to be punished?” he wonders, his thoughts meandering back to Shai’s question.

They shrug broadly, hands lifting as they do, palms to the ceiling. “Who am I to say?” They wave the matter off with a flick of their claws. “It wasn’t important, I suppose.”

“You killed someone,” Dan points out, his gaze darting down to the knife and the vial.

“Multiple someones,” Shai returns dryly, their chin dipping once as they nod. “For a friend. Don’t worry; they had it coming.” Their smile broadens until Dan can see their teeth.

“And your friend…?” he asks slowly, because he can tell there is some part of this story that he’s missing still.

Shai is silent at first, smile turning placid again as their gaze drifts towards the window. It takes a few moments, the steamer rocking calmly all the while, before they admit, “Alice is dead.” Their mouth twists with something like irritation, though their easy smile is back in place again in seconds. “I feel very used right now, Danny.”

With a slow sigh, Dan reaches out, clasping their shoulder with one hand. He makes no comment on the Cheesemonger or her bidding, and he asks instead, “Would you like some help getting the blood out?”

A bark of laughter is his reward, sharp and startled, and Shai’s grin is back in full force. “That would be lovely.”

[rexmajestatis]

@ashxfallen

Ignis swears there is a vein pulsing in his temple, and he can feel each beat of his heart in the way his head throbs. His grip on his coffee mug has gone white-knuckled, and when he yanks his gaze away from the half full contents, it turns out he’s been staring blankly in the mug’s depths for nearly ten minutes. Possibly without even blinking.

He glances up, and Gladio is giving him that look from across the fire pit. But Ignis doesn’t really have the capacity to deal with that look just now so he looks away, gaze instead settling on his current problem, as Noctis and Prompto appear to be playing something like cops and robbers with Prompto’s camera and one of his guns. They’re laughing and shouting at each other, and Ignis is thrilled to hear them enjoying themselves, truly he is, but he has also been awake for two days and would like to tape their mouths shut because his head feels like it is being split in two with a blunt spoon.

He’s been staring blankly into his coffee for another five minutes. It is definitely cold by now. He could dump it out, but holding onto it gives him something to do with his hands.

He glances up again, pointedly ignoring Gladio, as Tya makes her way over to Prompto, tapping his shoulder and startling him into fumbling his gun. It falls from his hand and vanishes before it can hit the ground and he whips around to face her. Noct scowls at the side of his head and may as well not even be there.

Ignis can’t quite focus on what they’re saying, but Tya points at Prompto’s camera in Noct’s hands, and Prompto nods rapidly. A moment later, the camera is in Tya’s hand and she returns to her chair, looking at the screen intently. With half of their fun gone, Prompto and Noct at last settle down for a game of King’s Knight.

Slowly, Ignis looks at Tya as she browses through pictures on the camera, only some of her attention on them. When Ignis wonders, “Looking for something in particular?” Tya simply shakes her head.

“No,” she answers easily, lowering the camera to her lap, though she continues to click through the day’s various photos. “But they are quiet now.”

They are. Blessedly so. Ignis’s head is still throbbing, but it feels less like it’s actively trying to break into pieces. “You’re my favorite person, occasionally,” he informs her earnestly, his grip on his mug relaxing in increments, until it feels less like he might accidentally dent the sides.

Tya nods, evidently finding that to be a perfectly reasonable response, before she looks back down at the camera’s tiny screen.

[rexmajestatis]

@nicxan

“Do you ever sleep?”

Daniel nearly leaps out of his skin at the question, whirling around at his terminal to face the door. He didn’t hear it slide open, but that’s not really that surprising; he was concentrating.

Jasper regards him with a tiny smile, his arms folded over his chest and one ankle crossed over the other as he leans a shoulder in the open doorway.

“Do you?” Daniel challenges, and no he is not pouting thank you very much.

Jasper is wearing his visor, its soft glow just emphasizing how pale he’s gotten, and Daniel knows already that the answer to his question is ‘no.’ But Jasper simply waves it off with a flippant gesture and an equally dismissive, “Sleep is not for cyborgs.”

Daniel rolls his eyes and picks up a bolt that had been holding a panel on the terminal in place. He takes careful aim, tongue poking out of one corner of his mouth, and he lobs it across the room.

It bounces harmlessly off of Jasper’s chest and plinks to the floor, and Jasper blinks down at it in bemusement, before his gaze darts to Daniel’s face, and then back downwards again, his expression turning curiously expectant.

If he had been even remotely awake, he would have caught it. With his biotics, probably, because he’s a showy bastard and flaunts his abilities without anything even resembling provocation.

And he hadn’t caught it.

Daniel throws his hands up in exasperation and makes a broad flapping motion towards the door. “Go. To. Sleep,” he enunciates carefully. “I will ask EDI to chase you.”

“You don’t even like talking to EDI,” Jasper returns, very carefully not sulking, regardless of how his mouth twists to one side.

“Exactly!” Daniel jabs a finger in Jasper’s direction. “So you know I’m serious. I will chase you if I have to.”

“You weight like four kilos,” Jasper deadpans in return, eyebrows rising behind his visor.

“A very stubborn four kilos.” He folds his arms over his chest and scowls, and when Jasper fails to start marching to his bedroom, Daniel’s eyes narrow and he breaks out the big guns. “I’ll tell Joker to mention it to Hackett.”

Though it hardly seems possible, Jasper seems to pale, and at last he holds his hands up in surrender, shoving himself away from the doorway. “Alright, alright,” he sighs, feigning good-natured exasperation. “I get the point.”

He offers an absentminded wave as he backs out of the room, thoughts already wandering again, probably splintering off in eight different directions. Daniel scowls at the door until it closes, and then he darts a cautious glance at the ceiling. “EDI?”

“He does appear to be headed towards his quarters,” she informs him.

Heaving a sigh, Daniel drags a hand down his face and turns his attention back to his terminal.

[rexmajestatis]

@rainaulthouse

“Sunshine.”

Summer flaps a hand at him and doesn’t even look up. Loki clears his throat delicately against one fist to mask a laugh.

Tony heaves a slow sigh and drags one hand down his face. “Sunny. Sunflower. My dearest flamethrower. Is this really that important?”

“You’ll disturb her efforts,” Loki cautions him wryly.

“Oh, go fuck off for another two years,” Tony grouses, ignoring the very carefully crafted pout that’s aimed at him afterwards.

Summer is, at that moment, kneeling on the floor and peering under a couch, where the Cloak is hiding as she tries to coax it out. The Cloak, however, is having none of it and simply scuttles farther back towards the wall.

“Come oonnnnn,” Summer pleads. “It was a rug, and it was an accident! It wasn’t even a sentient rug!”

Sadly, her words have no effect, and the Cloak huddles into a ball, the end curled over the collar as it ignores her. Summer flops onto her belly on the floor and looks about half a second from crawling under the couch after it, stopped only when Loki picks her up around her middle and hefts her off of the floor. She winds up dangling in his hold like a sulky kitten, which doesn’t appreciably help the situation.

“It’s scared of me,” she states towards the floor, as if anyone in the room just then is not aware of that detail.

“You set a bright red rug on fire,” Loki reminds her, feigning innocence. “Were you to burn me in effigy, I can’t say I wouldn’t be a little uncomfortable.”

“It was an accident!”

Tony takes a deep breath as he prepares to extricate them from each other.

Observing from a few feet away, Strange looks up the staircase, to where Clint is perched on the topmost balustrade. At his helpless ‘why?’ gesture, Clint’s only reply is an eloquent shrug.

[rexmajestatis]

@rainaulthouse

“You,” Sant’cere declares, leveling one finger at Darrick’s nose before Darrick is even seated at the table, “are late. By two days.” He withdraws his hand in a rush when Darrick snaps his teeth playfully at his hand with a cheeky grin.

“‘pologies,” Darrick drawls in reply, tumbling himself down onto the bench, legs splayed haphazardly and elbows leaning on the table. He’s in motion still, one knee bouncing so his heel taps against the floor, boot heel clicking incessantly. “Was cave divin’.”

“You were hunting dead things in a cave,” Sant’cere translates blandly, shouldering into Darrick with enough force that he needs to catch himself with a hand on the bench.

Unperturbed by his near spill, Darrick twists a finger in one of his braids, wondering mildly, “Do darkspawn really coun’ as dead, though? I mean, diseased, sure, but are they act’lly dead? Thoughts, Binz?”

“You were hunting dead things in a cave,” Sant’cere repeats, faintly expectant as he says it.

There’s a moment of quiet and half a second of stillness, and then Darrick is bouncing his knee and twisting the hem of his tunic as he concedes, “Was huntin’ dead things in a cave, yeah. Prob’ly not gonna be a long stay, either.”

Sant’cere’s expression blanks for a moment as he stomps on the wave of disappointment. “Oh?”

“Promised I’d be in Denerim f’r Satinalia,” Darrick replies, waving it off with a flick of his fingers. “Migh’ pop in on the king, too. So, guess I’ll see y’ after tha’?”

“…Oh.” Sant’cere clears his throat. “Right.”

“Unless,” Darrick muses suddenly, head tipping back until his ponytail is dragging on the table as he thoughtfully contemplates the ceiling, “y’ decide y’ wanna go, too.”

Sant’cere looks at him sharply, eyebrows rising towards his hairline. “Uh—“

“No pressure.” Darrick holds his hands up in a pacifying gesture, staving off a freakout. “Jus’ an idea.”

The bench is rattling slightly as Darrick’s knee bounces, and they lapse into silence. Finally, Sant’cere groans and slumps forward on the table, forehead landing on his folded arms. “Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll come for your little meet and greet.”

He continues to slump in resignation as Darrick ruffles his hair with a triumphant whoop.