[ dextera tried his very hardest to stay out of noctis' way, but like a cat encouraged by the sound of a can, he eventually has to quietly come down to the kitchen. noctis hears him, but then, he wasn't trying to be silent.
he's no joshua. ]
Yes. [ an automatic answer with his hands, though the lack of vocal response is probably a sign enough that yes, it is dextera. or a murderer.
more likely dextera, however, and he tilts his head to get a better look at what noctis is cooking. ] Smells good.
[ It's a good thing Noctis' most favorite animal is a cat and he'd do pretty much about anything for it -- and, as it turns out, that Dex is becoming one of Noctis' most favorite people here. He's attuned to Dex's movement, the cadence of his footsteps, and he nods at him when he approaches.
It's a simple dish, bluefin tuna steak and half a sweet potato on each plate. ]
Just caught it a couple hours ago; it looked a little weird, but whatever; it's pretty edible.
[ He's still plating the food to make it presentable, giving Dex a gentle nudge. ] Go set the table, I'll bring it along.
[ that’s fine, if it’s weird. dextera has put stranger things in his mouth than this before, and they didn’t even have color.
he doesn’t really know anything about cooking, but he trusts that noctis has done this to perfection. (largely because he trusts noctis to do anything—he’s closer to noctis than he is to many other people in this town, and he’s happy with that.)
so he does as he’s told, settling the table the way he’s learned, and glancing over to noctis as he does so.
there’s just the two of them, so it doesn’t take long. he can afford to be distracted. ]
[ Dex has put A BONE IN HIS MOUTH BEFORE, don't think Noctis forgot! But honestly? Dex is fascinating. He's kind, gentle and the warmest soul he's ever met, and as time went by Noctis finds himself protective of him, seeking him out whenever they have spare time. It doesn't take too long to read his moods, too, to figure them out on his own -- to realise that he and Guren have something quite special.
And that something special, somehow, is dimmed this week -- much like his with Ignis and Prompto.
When he's done, he meets his gaze and smiles, going over to set the plates down for the both of them. ]
[ dextera nods, and there’s this quiet sadness that flickers in his eyes—it’s not guren’s fault. they’re not fighting. it’s just hard to be around each other when they can’t touch, and dextera doesn’t blame him for that, nor does he blame noctis for bringing it up.
after all, noctis is suffering too, isn’t he? maybe that’s why dextera was invited to share dinner with him.
he pauses, waiting for noctis to begin eating before he starts. ]
[ It's really hard, not being able to interact with his loved ones -- worse still when he can only see the expressions on their faces and not be able to reach out, to talk to them. Prompto has always been the most emotive, and his distress had caught on Noctis the most. And then there is Ignis, who's in a league all of his own.
But Dex is no stranger to heartache; Noctis can see it in his eyes, and he settles by him with a quiet sigh. It's good to have Dex here, to know that at least he's able to talk to him. ]
Are you okay?
[ He's concerned. Guren's not a bad guy, but Dex is one of his most favorite people in here, and Noctis has got to look out for him, right? ]
[ dextera doesn’t want to give noctis the wrong idea. it’s not like being separated during their fast—guren is here, and fine, it’s just that they can’t touch each other.
it seems like a mild punishment, compared to some others, but it hurts so much anyway.
he nods. ]
Can’t touch. [ an explanation, for why guren has been keeping away. ]
[ Noctis is genuine, sympathetic -- to see the look in Dex's eyes is difficult, and he reaches out to pat his hand. Noctis isn't the most tactile, but still, he makes exception for Dex however he can. ]
I can't interact with Ignis and Prompto, either.
[ He looks down at his food. It's been really... rough. ]
[ dextera’s eyes widen slightly all the same, when noctis touches his hand, and the topic has him pushing back just to feel the weight of someone else’s hand against his own. if noctis doesn’t mind, he wants to take the comfort. ]
… [ …and offer it, too, if noctis is hurting without being able to talk to his friends. ] Over soon.
[ it has to be, he thinks. they can’t be like this forever. it would be too much, too unbearable, to be separated. ]
Noctis stills, then, before his hand tightens around Dex's. He'll give what he needs, and for once, he'll take comfort where he can find it. There's been too much, so much, everything pinned on his shoulders and Ignis and Prompto counting on him to do what's best. When everything else crumbles, he's supposed to hold it together, and it's a lot.
Dex doesn't need him that way. Dex doesn't need him like they do, and Noctis allows himself a soft noise, stinging behind his eyelids as he closes his eyes, dinner near forgotten.
He needs this. He can pretend things are fine all he likes, but they aren't. Nothing has been fine the moment he stepped out of Insomnia, but sometimes, people keep secrets from the ones they love the most for so many reasons.
So he holds his hand, closes tightly like he's a lifeline. ]
[ the dinner will be there when the moment has passed, but if dextera ignores that both of them are suffering now, then it might hurt their relationship in a way one missed meal could never. he’s grateful for this table, meant for families, probably shaped to allow people to hold hands for grace.
not exactly like this, but he’ll take what he can get. ]
…
[ “a few weeks,” he says. it’s not just this past week, and probably not just this most recent incident, either. dextera remembers the night that prompto came. guren mentioned that it sounded like a heavy conversation in the room over, even if neither of them could hear the specific words being said.
he covers noctis’ hand with his other, effectively silencing himself, but it’s an encouragement anyway for noctis to spill his heart if he needs to. ]
[ He can feel it, the way Dex's hand comes to rest on his, warm and seemingly all-encompassing. He squeezes his hand again -- he mustn't be selfish, Dex is having a terrible time of it, too; but there is comfort he finds in the other, as strange as it might sound. With Dex, Noctis can be more honest -- after all, he had promised he would make things right for Ignis and Prompto, that all they'd said won't come to pass.
Right now, he's not so sure he can fulfill that promise. He looks back at him, recognising just what Dex intends even without words. He wants him to talk, to open up, and with Dex, it's easy. It's easy because he's accepting, because he's likely been through worse times and perhaps he'll understand. It's easier to confide in Dex when he's hurting, too, and he swallows the lump in his throat. And so he tells him his story; the first person Noctis finds it in himself to be able to tell. ]
My dad died. A few months ago. He was killed after he sent me and my friends away. There was uh -- supposed to be the signing of a peace treaty. [ He pauses, his heart clenching. ] They turned on him, but I think he knew that was going to happen. I lost my home. And so many, many people, they uh. They died.
[ My people. The memory hurts, still, grief and anger burning a hole in his heart. His dad smiled when he sent them off, and Noctis knew no better. ]
It's... I should move on. [ Because that's what kings do. But he's a son, too, which makes things even more difficult. And times like these, with Ignis and Prompto on the other side of the proverbial glass, he has never felt more alone. ] I failed a lot of people. They got hurt because of me. And Luna -- uh.
[ The knot in his throat thickens. It's so hard, so hard to say, even to Dex. ] Anyway. Sorry. I should be better than this.
[ dextera listens, quietly. patiently. he listens like this is the most important story anyone has ever told him, and in a way, it is—he understands that noctis is sharing his pain, a pain that dextera knows all too well. losing someone. letting others die. it’s a familiar story, and dextera would be a hypocrite to judge noctis for even a moment of it.
“i should move on,” says noctis, but that’s not true. dextera feels like moving on is forgetting, and god, the last thing he ever wants to do is forget anything else, ever again. the next step is forgiveness. repentance. if dextera can offer even an ounce of that to noctis to help his heart begin to heal, he wants to.
so dextera listens, until noctis finishes his story, and then without missing a beat he shakes his head. there’s nothing urgent in it; he almost seems peaceful. like noctis has come to a confession, and he’s speaking to someone who doesn’t have the ability to judge.
he hurts, too, but this is noctis’ time, so he squeezes noctis’ hand. ]
…
[ without moving away too much, he shifts the hand on top to write a message between them, slow, so he’s sure noctis can read it. ]
[ He understands, and Noctis is surprised -- he's not sure anyone else would, and has less faith that they even could, because how can they? But Dextera listens, patient and genuine, the warmth of his hands something that Noctis is sure he will never forget.
He's sharing something that he should have kept buried, things that wouldn't have seen the light of day if not for the circumstances, and when he looks up at him he's struck by how serene he is, how gentle and accepting, like he really knows that he's gone through, the hurt that festers and that has no place to go.
The prince swallows, hard, struggles to maintain control of himself -- but once he's reached out for a connection, any kind of connection, there's no going back now. ]
[ how can he say it? he doesn’t want noctis to think badly of him. he’s terrified of losing the people he cares about to his sins, and there’s no way to lie now. he can’t go back on his understanding, even if he’s scared to admit it. although he’s shaking now, the grip on noctis’ hand stays secure, as if he’s taking comfort as much as he’s trying to receive it. ]
…
Loss. [ and, just as slowly, a second word. ] Guilt. It hurts. I understand.
[ There is a story here that Dex isn't telling him, something he keeps deep, deep inside -- he understands it to his bones when he sees the look in his eyes, the trembling in his hands. Even so, Dex holds on, like he's giving him comfort and seeking his own in return.
His heart hurts for him, too, because he wouldn't wish this understanding on anybody, a curse upon the heart, a burden on the shoulders. I don't do hugs, Noctis told Guren not so long ago, but in the face of pain this raw and unfiltered, he cannot help but take his hand and pull him into one, his arm sliding around fragile, shaking shoulders.
It hurts.
It hurts in a way that will hurt everyone else if they come to know it, and perhaps this is why Dex, too, keeps it to himself. Noctis pulls him into an embrace, and closes his eyes, offering what he can, everything that he can muster inside him. ]
I understand you, too.
[ He doesn't need the story to know the pain that spans soul deep, to recognise the same thing in Dex himself. ] If you ever need to say anything, to tell me -- I'm here.
[ noctis doesn’t need to hear it, no, but dextera feels like he should say it anyway—especially when noctis pulls him in like that, so comforting, just the two of them safe here together. he can’t be selfish. he can’t hide himself away when noctis has already exposed his pain, no matter how much he wants to.
he wishes he could be someone else, someone worthy of having a friend like noctis, but that’s not who he is. ]
…
[ he takes a long, deep breath—almost shuddering, with the beat of his heart—and pulls back, just enough to slowly sign out his explanation. these signs, he’s practiced in secret, without stringing the lessons together to make it obvious what he wanted to learn. he shows himself in front of the mirror, sometimes, and hears the archangel’s voice with the movement of his hands, as the magic of the town translates the signs for him.
it’s not a long or complicated story. just a painful one. ]
Noctis stiffens, but he doesn't let go of him. He won't. This is Dex's turn to tell him, his darkest, most painful secret -- and from the way he shakes, the way he understands without judgement, he knows in his heart that whatever he did, no matter how grievous and awful, that he hadn't intended for it, too.
Guilt. Pain. Dex knows this on a visceral level, and Noctis shifts only to look at him, wanting to know more -- he can't judge, not for this, and Dex needs him to be here more than he needs any sort of moralizing. He reads the words in his signs, clear as day.
He killed the world, and he's borne the burden of that guilt ever since -- how heavy it must be, on those lean, narrow shoulders. ]
[ it’s so hard to say, and for once, he’s glad he can’t speak. he thinks he would choke on his own guilt if he had to use his voice—and maybe that’s part of the reason why nothing comes out, even when he tries. his burden is too great, and there’s nothing he can do to assuage that as long as he’s here. ]
I tried to become God.
[ he sounds like a megalomaniac. he knows. that’s why it’s so hard—he’s guilty, he’s completely guilty, and the archangel was right. ]
I tried to run away. [ it’s a mixed story, because he’s relying on his feelings. that painful emptiness, that desire—that’s what motivates the movements he’s showing noctis, now. ] The world—
[ his hands falter for a moment, and he takes a deep breath. ]
[ Someone truly awful wouldn't be saying things this way -- someone awful wouldn't feel the depth of guilt and pain and hurt. They wouldn't be like Dex, and suddenly the pieces fall into place; how withdrawn he is, shy and reserved, and sometimes almost like he's trying to atone for something, or wait to be punished -- or even doing some of the punishment himself.
Noctis frowns, not in anger; he's trying to understand, to grasp the weight of what he's told him. He tried to become God, tried to run away, and the world died because he was selfish -- it doesn't add up, not really, and he reaches out, touches his cheek lightly. ]
[ and this—this is the stupidest, hardest part of all to say. the reason he’s attributed to himself, without memories to make sense of it, and the archangel telling him not to dwell on what he’s done. his sin has been committed and all he can do is atone, but sometimes, in his quiet hours, he can’t help but wonder what drove him to do it all. ]
Loneliness.
[ he’s just so lonely, even now. even with all his friends around, it’s like a void in his chest that he can’t fill.
when noctis touches his cheek, though, he visibly calms—grateful, immensely so, for the warmth of a human hand against his face. he touches noctis’ fingers back, just a brush, in the silence of waiting for noctis’ answer. ]
[ Loneliness. It clicks for him, then, the flood of understanding and empathy, and he rests his sword-calloused palm against his cheek with a soft sigh, his gaze soft and pained. How he knows this feeling, the profound, painful loneliness -- it's heavy, it's agony, a kind of death that bleeds you out little by little with no reprieve.
Loneliness is the most terrifying thing there is, because everyone suffers alone, and Dex looking back at him with gratitude makes his throat and heart tighten. Gods, how long has he held that in? He doesn't have the whole picture, but he gets the fundamentals. ]
I get it. [ He says softly. ] It's so much worse when you're surrounded by people, and yet all you feel is... empty. Like you're all alone. That kind of pain runs deeper than anything else. [ He hesitates. ] Am I right?
[ dextera nods, hard, tightening his fingers around noctis’ at his cheek. this time, he has nothing to say, because noctis is right. it’s hard. it’s the worst. the scar on his side throbs like it might decide to rip open even after fifteen long years of never truly healing, but if he focuses on noctis then he can ignore it a little longer.
he cries all the time anyway, and it’s not so different now, as hot, salty tears spill down his cheeks.
but he thinks of noctis anyway—how unfair it is for him to cry, when noctis is the one who’s truly suffering here. his pain is so fresh, dextera thinks. his father died. he can’t see his friends. dextera has so much here, he shouldn’t be selfish, but it hurts so much he doesn’t know what to do. he hugs noctis, with no other ideas left in him. ]
[ He won't leave him, he won't pull away. He can see how it's killing Dex inside, and even if he doesn't quite understand the details of it, there's one thing he knows -- his friend wouldn't do it just because he wanted to. Dex is not cruel that way.
So when he cries, he doesn't stop him, only offering up everything that he has to comfort him, rubbing his back in slow circles -- hurt is hurt, and perhaps selfishly Noctis prefers to deal with Dex's than his own. It's easier to set aside, to focus on Dex's pain, the tears that run down his cheeks. It's the first time he's seen him cry like this, but maybe this time it could be a prelude to healing, and to one day, eventually set things right.
He killed the world -- but how? It's a question for another day; right now, Dex needs him, and Noctis will be here. ]
[ dextera doesn’t know how. no one seems to know how, exactly, except the archangel—and a part of dextera still trusts that man, no matter how much he shouldn’t, and without anyone else to rely on for his memories it’s inevitable that he would hear the truth that’s given to him. he killed the world, and it’s the only explanation for the crushing guilt in his chest. ]
…
[ he breathes hard, wet and miserable, against noctis’ chest—but continues to sign against his back. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he's no joshua. ]
Yes. [ an automatic answer with his hands, though the lack of vocal response is probably a sign enough that yes, it is dextera. or a murderer.
more likely dextera, however, and he tilts his head to get a better look at what noctis is cooking. ] Smells good.
no subject
It's a simple dish, bluefin tuna steak and half a sweet potato on each plate. ]
Just caught it a couple hours ago; it looked a little weird, but whatever; it's pretty edible.
[ He's still plating the food to make it presentable, giving Dex a gentle nudge. ] Go set the table, I'll bring it along.
no subject
he doesn’t really know anything about cooking, but he trusts that noctis has done this to perfection. (largely because he trusts noctis to do anything—he’s closer to noctis than he is to many other people in this town, and he’s happy with that.)
so he does as he’s told, settling the table the way he’s learned, and glancing over to noctis as he does so.
there’s just the two of them, so it doesn’t take long. he can afford to be distracted. ]
no subject
And that something special, somehow, is dimmed this week -- much like his with Ignis and Prompto.
When he's done, he meets his gaze and smiles, going over to set the plates down for the both of them. ]
It's quieter today, huh?
[ Guren's not here. ]
no subject
[ dextera nods, and there’s this quiet sadness that flickers in his eyes—it’s not guren’s fault. they’re not fighting. it’s just hard to be around each other when they can’t touch, and dextera doesn’t blame him for that, nor does he blame noctis for bringing it up.
after all, noctis is suffering too, isn’t he? maybe that’s why dextera was invited to share dinner with him.
he pauses, waiting for noctis to begin eating before he starts. ]
Very quiet.
no subject
But Dex is no stranger to heartache; Noctis can see it in his eyes, and he settles by him with a quiet sigh. It's good to have Dex here, to know that at least he's able to talk to him. ]
Are you okay?
[ He's concerned. Guren's not a bad guy, but Dex is one of his most favorite people in here, and Noctis has got to look out for him, right? ]
no subject
[ dextera doesn’t want to give noctis the wrong idea. it’s not like being separated during their fast—guren is here, and fine, it’s just that they can’t touch each other.
it seems like a mild punishment, compared to some others, but it hurts so much anyway.
he nods. ]
Can’t touch. [ an explanation, for why guren has been keeping away. ]
no subject
[ Noctis is genuine, sympathetic -- to see the look in Dex's eyes is difficult, and he reaches out to pat his hand. Noctis isn't the most tactile, but still, he makes exception for Dex however he can. ]
I can't interact with Ignis and Prompto, either.
[ He looks down at his food. It's been really... rough. ]
no subject
… [ …and offer it, too, if noctis is hurting without being able to talk to his friends. ] Over soon.
[ it has to be, he thinks. they can’t be like this forever. it would be too much, too unbearable, to be separated. ]
no subject
Noctis stills, then, before his hand tightens around Dex's. He'll give what he needs, and for once, he'll take comfort where he can find it. There's been too much, so much, everything pinned on his shoulders and Ignis and Prompto counting on him to do what's best. When everything else crumbles, he's supposed to hold it together, and it's a lot.
Dex doesn't need him that way. Dex doesn't need him like they do, and Noctis allows himself a soft noise, stinging behind his eyelids as he closes his eyes, dinner near forgotten.
He needs this. He can pretend things are fine all he likes, but they aren't. Nothing has been fine the moment he stepped out of Insomnia, but sometimes, people keep secrets from the ones they love the most for so many reasons.
So he holds his hand, closes tightly like he's a lifeline. ]
It's been a shitty few weeks.
no subject
not exactly like this, but he’ll take what he can get. ]
…
[ “a few weeks,” he says. it’s not just this past week, and probably not just this most recent incident, either. dextera remembers the night that prompto came. guren mentioned that it sounded like a heavy conversation in the room over, even if neither of them could hear the specific words being said.
he covers noctis’ hand with his other, effectively silencing himself, but it’s an encouragement anyway for noctis to spill his heart if he needs to. ]
no subject
Right now, he's not so sure he can fulfill that promise. He looks back at him, recognising just what Dex intends even without words. He wants him to talk, to open up, and with Dex, it's easy. It's easy because he's accepting, because he's likely been through worse times and perhaps he'll understand. It's easier to confide in Dex when he's hurting, too, and he swallows the lump in his throat. And so he tells him his story; the first person Noctis finds it in himself to be able to tell. ]
My dad died. A few months ago. He was killed after he sent me and my friends away. There was uh -- supposed to be the signing of a peace treaty. [ He pauses, his heart clenching. ] They turned on him, but I think he knew that was going to happen. I lost my home. And so many, many people, they uh. They died.
[ My people. The memory hurts, still, grief and anger burning a hole in his heart. His dad smiled when he sent them off, and Noctis knew no better. ]
It's... I should move on. [ Because that's what kings do. But he's a son, too, which makes things even more difficult. And times like these, with Ignis and Prompto on the other side of the proverbial glass, he has never felt more alone. ] I failed a lot of people. They got hurt because of me. And Luna -- uh.
[ The knot in his throat thickens. It's so hard, so hard to say, even to Dex. ] Anyway. Sorry. I should be better than this.
no subject
“i should move on,” says noctis, but that’s not true. dextera feels like moving on is forgetting, and god, the last thing he ever wants to do is forget anything else, ever again. the next step is forgiveness. repentance. if dextera can offer even an ounce of that to noctis to help his heart begin to heal, he wants to.
so dextera listens, until noctis finishes his story, and then without missing a beat he shakes his head. there’s nothing urgent in it; he almost seems peaceful. like noctis has come to a confession, and he’s speaking to someone who doesn’t have the ability to judge.
he hurts, too, but this is noctis’ time, so he squeezes noctis’ hand. ]
…
[ without moving away too much, he shifts the hand on top to write a message between them, slow, so he’s sure noctis can read it. ]
I understand.
no subject
He's sharing something that he should have kept buried, things that wouldn't have seen the light of day if not for the circumstances, and when he looks up at him he's struck by how serene he is, how gentle and accepting, like he really knows that he's gone through, the hurt that festers and that has no place to go.
The prince swallows, hard, struggles to maintain control of himself -- but once he's reached out for a connection, any kind of connection, there's no going back now. ]
What is it that you understand?
no subject
…
Loss. [ and, just as slowly, a second word. ] Guilt. It hurts. I understand.
no subject
His heart hurts for him, too, because he wouldn't wish this understanding on anybody, a curse upon the heart, a burden on the shoulders. I don't do hugs, Noctis told Guren not so long ago, but in the face of pain this raw and unfiltered, he cannot help but take his hand and pull him into one, his arm sliding around fragile, shaking shoulders.
It hurts.
It hurts in a way that will hurt everyone else if they come to know it, and perhaps this is why Dex, too, keeps it to himself. Noctis pulls him into an embrace, and closes his eyes, offering what he can, everything that he can muster inside him. ]
I understand you, too.
[ He doesn't need the story to know the pain that spans soul deep, to recognise the same thing in Dex himself. ] If you ever need to say anything, to tell me -- I'm here.
no subject
he wishes he could be someone else, someone worthy of having a friend like noctis, but that’s not who he is. ]
…
[ he takes a long, deep breath—almost shuddering, with the beat of his heart—and pulls back, just enough to slowly sign out his explanation. these signs, he’s practiced in secret, without stringing the lessons together to make it obvious what he wanted to learn. he shows himself in front of the mirror, sometimes, and hears the archangel’s voice with the movement of his hands, as the magic of the town translates the signs for him.
it’s not a long or complicated story. just a painful one. ]
I killed the world.
no subject
Noctis stiffens, but he doesn't let go of him. He won't. This is Dex's turn to tell him, his darkest, most painful secret -- and from the way he shakes, the way he understands without judgement, he knows in his heart that whatever he did, no matter how grievous and awful, that he hadn't intended for it, too.
Guilt. Pain. Dex knows this on a visceral level, and Noctis shifts only to look at him, wanting to know more -- he can't judge, not for this, and Dex needs him to be here more than he needs any sort of moralizing. He reads the words in his signs, clear as day.
He killed the world, and he's borne the burden of that guilt ever since -- how heavy it must be, on those lean, narrow shoulders. ]
What happened?
no subject
I tried to become God.
[ he sounds like a megalomaniac. he knows. that’s why it’s so hard—he’s guilty, he’s completely guilty, and the archangel was right. ]
I tried to run away. [ it’s a mixed story, because he’s relying on his feelings. that painful emptiness, that desire—that’s what motivates the movements he’s showing noctis, now. ] The world—
[ his hands falter for a moment, and he takes a deep breath. ]
—died, because I was selfish.
no subject
Noctis frowns, not in anger; he's trying to understand, to grasp the weight of what he's told him. He tried to become God, tried to run away, and the world died because he was selfish -- it doesn't add up, not really, and he reaches out, touches his cheek lightly. ]
What were you trying to run away from?
no subject
Loneliness.
[ he’s just so lonely, even now. even with all his friends around, it’s like a void in his chest that he can’t fill.
when noctis touches his cheek, though, he visibly calms—grateful, immensely so, for the warmth of a human hand against his face. he touches noctis’ fingers back, just a brush, in the silence of waiting for noctis’ answer. ]
no subject
Loneliness is the most terrifying thing there is, because everyone suffers alone, and Dex looking back at him with gratitude makes his throat and heart tighten. Gods, how long has he held that in? He doesn't have the whole picture, but he gets the fundamentals. ]
I get it. [ He says softly. ] It's so much worse when you're surrounded by people, and yet all you feel is... empty. Like you're all alone. That kind of pain runs deeper than anything else. [ He hesitates. ] Am I right?
no subject
he cries all the time anyway, and it’s not so different now, as hot, salty tears spill down his cheeks.
but he thinks of noctis anyway—how unfair it is for him to cry, when noctis is the one who’s truly suffering here. his pain is so fresh, dextera thinks. his father died. he can’t see his friends. dextera has so much here, he shouldn’t be selfish, but it hurts so much he doesn’t know what to do. he hugs noctis, with no other ideas left in him. ]
no subject
So when he cries, he doesn't stop him, only offering up everything that he has to comfort him, rubbing his back in slow circles -- hurt is hurt, and perhaps selfishly Noctis prefers to deal with Dex's than his own. It's easier to set aside, to focus on Dex's pain, the tears that run down his cheeks. It's the first time he's seen him cry like this, but maybe this time it could be a prelude to healing, and to one day, eventually set things right.
He killed the world -- but how? It's a question for another day; right now, Dex needs him, and Noctis will be here. ]
Cry it out. 'm here.
no subject
…
[ he breathes hard, wet and miserable, against noctis’ chest—but continues to sign against his back. ]
I’m sorry. [ a quiet sigh. ] You too.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)