[Zegnautus Keep is, in Noct's opinion, the worst place he's been. Ever. He's alone, cold because it's Niflheim and it's apparently always cold, exhausted, and terrified (for Gladio and Ignis because he has no idea where they are or if they're all right, for Prompto because who knows what the hell that asshole freak Ardyn has been doing to him and because what if it's all an illusion and Prompto's still in the valley by the train and -- no, no stopping that train of thought right now-- and for himself because this place and the deranged MTs give him this creeps and every new document he finds as he pokes through the labs to try and find his way makes everything worse). Even setting all that aside, he knew wearing the ring was going to be bad. He could hear the whispers and feel its pull even just holding it. Plus, he'd seen how it affected his dad over the years. Even without a Wall to maintain, he still knew he'd be paying for the power. But gods, it's worse than he imagined.
The pain sucks, of course. It's an unpleasant burning at best, and it makes his back and leg ache like they do in the rain pretty much constantly (though the fact that he keeps pushing himself forward with as little rest as possible is probably the real culprit there) and the sensation of pieces of himself being torn off at the worst, but... the pain's nothing he can't handle. Nah, it's not the pain that's the shitty part of it. No, it's the voices that get to him. The way he can see things he knows aren't really there. The symbols of his family blood magic flickering in and out of sight, a ghostly miasma gathering at the edge of his vision, almost like he's constantly on the verge of blacking out. And gods, the whispers. They get worse when he's drawing on the power, draining the lives from the daemons or banishing MTs into some forgotten void, but he can never quite pick out what they're saying -- and honestly? He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know.
Still... he wonders... are they the voices of the past kings and queens within the ring? His father had told him once that if someone not of his bloodline puts on the ring, the ring tests them and demands to know if they're worthy. He supposes it's some comfort that his ancestors apparently approve of him enough not to reject him, but part of him wonders if they're just obligated to lend him the power and if maybe they really don't approve. Maybe that's what the whispers are - them telling him off for not putting the ring on sooner, not getting back to the crystal already, not ... who even knows anymore.
Or maybe it's just this place and Ardyn's sing-song taunts over the P.A. system getting to him.
Lost in his thoughts, Noctis trips over some canister left in the hallway and loses his balance. All that saves him from crashing face first into the wall is the fact that the wall is actually a door, and instead he face-plants across the threshold of a dormitory. Face burning with embarrassment, Noctis stumbles to his feet, grimacing and rubbing his shin where it connected with the canister. He leans on the door frame and stares around the room. Part of him wants to ignore it and keep going, but a larger part of him knows he's at his limit, and so far no daemons have turned up in the dorms so with a glance back down the hallway, he decides to chance it.
Staggering in, he activates the lock on the door and makes his way to one of the beds. He sinks down on it and fishes around in his pockets to see what he might have to eat, Ignis' voice echoing in his thoughts that he should have dinner before sleeping. In luck, he finds a partially broken granola bar and pulls it out. He makes himself comfortable, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed and stretching his one leg out carefully. He gazes dully at the ring on his finger as he unwraps the bard. If he didn't need it, he'd be tempted to just throw it down one of the elevator shafts. As it is, he's thinking of taking it off while he takes a quick nap to see if he might sleep better that way rather than waking up after, like, an hour gasping for breath and trying not to scream.
But as he's pondering it, a thought occurs to him. What if the voices are the past kings and queens? What if ... what if he can find a way to talk to them? Then maybe ... maybe he can see his dad again...!
With this in mind, he sits up a little straighter, studying the ring closely. Finishing the granola bar, he sets the wrapper aside and then clasps his hands so that both are touching the ring. He's got no idea what the hell he's doing, but ... gotta try something, right? He reaches out with his mind, closing his eyes and trying to see if he can sense the ring that way and maybe just maybe talk to whatever's inside.
He gasps when suddenly he seems to break through to -- to something, and equal parts eager and nervous as hell, he calls out:]
[There is definitely something in the ring. Like a curtain parting, folding around Noctis and blacking out the outside world, until it just feels like -
Like he's sitting back-to-back with someone on the bed, except for the fact that the other person's body doesn't have any weight to depress the mattress.]
You're starting at the wrong end to reach him, I'm afraid.
[The voice is both - unmistakably Ardyn's, and unmistakably not. Surely, even if the faint dry wit is the same, Ardyn has never sounded so genuinely sorry about anything in his life.]
[Noctis jolts at the sound of that voice, and he very nearly spins around to see except it'd be impossible for anyone to be behind him but then again this is Ardyn, and he does thinks and oh gods how is he doing this? What did he do to the ring? Is Noctis going crazy?]
What the hell?!
[Somehow the fact that the voice doesn't quite make his skin crawl makes the whole situation even more alarming and weird.]
[Noctis ......... just kind of gapes at him. Yeah he's definitely going crazy. Awesome. Perfect. Because he really needs yet one more thing going wrong here.]
Your -- how do -- what -- who?
[It's Ardyn but it's ... not Ardyn? Give him a moment to reboot his errored out brain.]
[Ah yes, that explai-- wait, no, that explains almost nothing. What is Ardyn's identical twin doing as a ghost in the ring? Since when has Ardyn had a twin? Just one of him is bad enough but imagining an entire family of Ardyn's is just terrible. And anyway, how does he know this isn't just some new and even weirder game Ardyn is playing?
The explanation is at least enough to for Noctis to get past the tripping over the fifty or so different questions that had tried to crowd their way out of his mouth before, however. {insert boot up jingle here} He takes a breath and lets it out slowly, trying to calm his racing heart.]
Your... Ardyn's twin. [Yes, he just said that.] Ardyn has a twin. [Ok maybe he's still in the process of rebooting.]
[They're not quite identical - when the figure turns to look at Noctis directly, his eyes aren't that uncanny yellow. Just a normal shade of hazel, as much as is visible given his not-quite-solid state.]
[Noctis blinks several times, still trying to make sense of this. He's at least not hyperventilating from being startled by the almost-Ardyn voice anymore, but he's still pretty tense and not quite sure this is real.]
Why are you in the ring? [He ... is talking to someone in the ring right? This... apparent twin had said he started at the wrong end -- wait. Wait a moment. No fucking way. No fucking way.] Who are you?
[His eyes drop to the ring for a moment, brow knitting as he thinks this over.]
So ... let me get this straight... [It's been a while since he had to study early Lucian history but he'd had to memorize all 113 kings and queens at one point, and even if he blanks on some of them, he still remembers the mnemonic devices. He almost starts to hum some dumb song for it, but ... no... he's pretty sure there was only the one Ardyn... Still, this whole thing is absurd.] You're ... the first king of Lucis? And your Ardyn-the-asshole's twin brother? [A couple things click together; he doesn't have any blood siblings himself, but he knows people who do and knows the petty things they'll do to each other when bickering.] What the hell did you do to piss him off? ... or was he just always like this?
[There's no way Ardyn being as much of a dick as he is and apparently being his great x a bajillion uncle is a coincidence.]
It might be better to start with... How much do you know about daemons and the Starscourge?
[He could look, but now that Noctis knows he's here the sensation of someone just paging through his memories is kind of unpleasant and, really, he doesn't need to.]
[He probably really would take off the ring and throw it across the room if he felt Izunia rifling through his memories!]
Um... [He literally just read about it like two hours ago, and he hasn't really let himself dwell on it, but he kind of has to now, and he shudders, curling inward a bit. And to think of how much Niflheim was experimenting with them, too...] ... daemons are... people infected with the Starscourge and ... changed by it. I dunno how it makes people monsters, though.
Before the line of the Oracle received the power of healing, infection with the Scourge was, for all intents and purposes, a death sentence. People who showed signs of infection would take their own lives, in the hope that it would stop the disease before they became monster of the night and hurt their families and friends. A blood-bourne illness - but it was a long time before we knew that. Too long.
And then, one day - there was a healer, who took the black marks from the people and left them healthy. Touched by the light of the Crystal, in a way that no other has been, before or since -
But that healing came with a price. His was not a true power of healing. He just... moved the infection. Into himself.
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uses phone icon b/c it's like a ring phone :D
The pain sucks, of course. It's an unpleasant burning at best, and it makes his back and leg ache like they do in the rain pretty much constantly (though the fact that he keeps pushing himself forward with as little rest as possible is probably the real culprit there) and the sensation of pieces of himself being torn off at the worst, but... the pain's nothing he can't handle. Nah, it's not the pain that's the shitty part of it. No, it's the voices that get to him. The way he can see things he knows aren't really there. The symbols of his family blood magic flickering in and out of sight, a ghostly miasma gathering at the edge of his vision, almost like he's constantly on the verge of blacking out. And gods, the whispers. They get worse when he's drawing on the power, draining the lives from the daemons or banishing MTs into some forgotten void, but he can never quite pick out what they're saying -- and honestly? He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know.
Still... he wonders... are they the voices of the past kings and queens within the ring? His father had told him once that if someone not of his bloodline puts on the ring, the ring tests them and demands to know if they're worthy. He supposes it's some comfort that his ancestors apparently approve of him enough not to reject him, but part of him wonders if they're just obligated to lend him the power and if maybe they really don't approve. Maybe that's what the whispers are - them telling him off for not putting the ring on sooner, not getting back to the crystal already, not ... who even knows anymore.
Or maybe it's just this place and Ardyn's sing-song taunts over the P.A. system getting to him.
Lost in his thoughts, Noctis trips over some canister left in the hallway and loses his balance. All that saves him from crashing face first into the wall is the fact that the wall is actually a door, and instead he face-plants across the threshold of a dormitory. Face burning with embarrassment, Noctis stumbles to his feet, grimacing and rubbing his shin where it connected with the canister. He leans on the door frame and stares around the room. Part of him wants to ignore it and keep going, but a larger part of him knows he's at his limit, and so far no daemons have turned up in the dorms so with a glance back down the hallway, he decides to chance it.
Staggering in, he activates the lock on the door and makes his way to one of the beds. He sinks down on it and fishes around in his pockets to see what he might have to eat, Ignis' voice echoing in his thoughts that he should have dinner before sleeping. In luck, he finds a partially broken granola bar and pulls it out. He makes himself comfortable, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed and stretching his one leg out carefully. He gazes dully at the ring on his finger as he unwraps the bard. If he didn't need it, he'd be tempted to just throw it down one of the elevator shafts. As it is, he's thinking of taking it off while he takes a quick nap to see if he might sleep better that way rather than waking up after, like, an hour gasping for breath and trying not to scream.
But as he's pondering it, a thought occurs to him. What if the voices are the past kings and queens? What if ... what if he can find a way to talk to them? Then maybe ... maybe he can see his dad again...!
With this in mind, he sits up a little straighter, studying the ring closely. Finishing the granola bar, he sets the wrapper aside and then clasps his hands so that both are touching the ring. He's got no idea what the hell he's doing, but ... gotta try something, right? He reaches out with his mind, closing his eyes and trying to see if he can sense the ring that way and maybe just maybe talk to whatever's inside.
He gasps when suddenly he seems to break through to -- to something, and equal parts eager and nervous as hell, he calls out:]
-- Dad...?
so he's hearing... the ringer?
Like he's sitting back-to-back with someone on the bed, except for the fact that the other person's body doesn't have any weight to depress the mattress.]
You're starting at the wrong end to reach him, I'm afraid.
[The voice is both - unmistakably Ardyn's, and unmistakably not. Surely, even if the faint dry wit is the same, Ardyn has never sounded so genuinely sorry about anything in his life.]
*oh my god* - yes
What the hell?!
[Somehow the fact that the voice doesn't quite make his skin crawl makes the whole situation even more alarming and weird.]
a dead ringer
entirely
there
Just a shape like a reverse sort of shadow, a shape made out of light that isn't quite dressed like Ardyn but sure does look like him.
He lifts a hand in an awkward wave.]
Hello, Noctis. I hope you can forgive me for sitting in on your - conversations with my brother.
*i'm* dead now
Your -- how do -- what -- who?
[It's Ardyn but it's ... not Ardyn? Give him a moment to reboot his errored out brain.]
bows
It's the end of the game, anyway, might as well]
Identical twins, Noctis.
[Keep it simple while kingoflight.exe restarts.]
no subject
The explanation is at least enough to for Noctis to get past the tripping over the fifty or so different questions that had tried to crowd their way out of his mouth before, however. {insert boot up jingle here} He takes a breath and lets it out slowly, trying to calm his racing heart.]
Your... Ardyn's twin. [Yes, he just said that.] Ardyn has a twin. [Ok maybe he's still in the process of rebooting.]
no subject
[They're not quite identical - when the figure turns to look at Noctis directly, his eyes aren't that uncanny yellow. Just a normal shade of hazel, as much as is visible given his not-quite-solid state.]
no subject
Why are you in the ring? [He ... is talking to someone in the ring right? This... apparent twin had said he started at the wrong end -- wait. Wait a moment. No fucking way. No fucking way.] Who are you?
no subject
[There's only been one king named Ardyn. Funnily enough, there have been several Noctises - but Izunia knows all too well who this one is, and so -
Here, at the end, he may as well reveal everything.]
My proper given name is 'Izunia' - as you might perhaps have guessed, from my brother's theatrical choice in aliases. Is that answer enough?
no subject
So ... let me get this straight... [It's been a while since he had to study early Lucian history but he'd had to memorize all 113 kings and queens at one point, and even if he blanks on some of them, he still remembers the mnemonic devices. He almost starts to hum some dumb song for it, but ... no... he's pretty sure there was only the one Ardyn... Still, this whole thing is absurd.] You're ... the first king of Lucis? And your Ardyn-the-asshole's twin brother? [A couple things click together; he doesn't have any blood siblings himself, but he knows people who do and knows the petty things they'll do to each other when bickering.] What the hell did you do to piss him off? ... or was he just always like this?
[There's no way Ardyn being as much of a dick as he is and apparently being his great x a bajillion uncle is a coincidence.]
no subject
[It's... Almost laughable, really.]
It might be better to start with... How much do you know about daemons and the Starscourge?
[He could look, but now that Noctis knows he's here the sensation of someone just paging through his memories is kind of unpleasant and, really, he doesn't need to.]
no subject
Um... [He literally just read about it like two hours ago, and he hasn't really let himself dwell on it, but he kind of has to now, and he shudders, curling inward a bit. And to think of how much Niflheim was experimenting with them, too...] ... daemons are... people infected with the Starscourge and ... changed by it. I dunno how it makes people monsters, though.
no subject
[Izunia waves a hand dismissively. Good enough.]
Before the line of the Oracle received the power of healing, infection with the Scourge was, for all intents and purposes, a death sentence. People who showed signs of infection would take their own lives, in the hope that it would stop the disease before they became monster of the night and hurt their families and friends. A blood-bourne illness - but it was a long time before we knew that. Too long.
And then, one day - there was a healer, who took the black marks from the people and left them healthy. Touched by the light of the Crystal, in a way that no other has been, before or since -
But that healing came with a price. His was not a true power of healing. He just... moved the infection. Into himself.