Get in time traveller

[warmgaze]

[Altissia. The ring, burning into his finger, burning into his skull, and he knows the price without asking, knows before it's paid. The thing you value most, isn't that always how this works in fairytales?

Ravus. Noctis. Ardyn, and that little revelation barely enters his mind at the time, the familiar glowing signature of a warp in an unfamiliar color. The prophecy, the visions that hang in his mind, a last wish from a woman who spent her life to ensure it, Lunafreya's final message to ensure that Noctis would survive.

The last clear words he can remember clearly, You've a calling to fulfill, and then Prompto and Gladio's voices, concerned, in a blur...

And then nothing. Just the feeling of a ring's power, setting him alight from fingertips to crown -

It's still in him, that power. The ring of the Lucii binds to its wearers for life, knotting strands of light into their souls, be they kings or anyone else.

(He had expected to die. Living is harder.)

And in the depths of his unconsciousness, in the place where he knows the things that he hasn't had time to consider, Noctis and Ardyn and prophecy and all of that terrible weight -

From there, from the connection of the fire in his soul that will never go out, that can only be smothered and locked away in the dark, a voice says, what would you give to change fate?

And, of course, he answers, Anything.

----

In another world, Ignis Scientia wakes in Altissia, his face scarred, his vision burned away, and continues on.

In this one, Prompto Argentum enters the room just in time to see a flare of purple flame lick along his friend's body and leave nothing behind, not even a char mark on the wrinkled sheets.

And Ignis?

Ignis wakes, with a groan and a hand pressed to his face, in the back of a cart that trundles to a stop to pick up another passenger, a young healer with cheeks not yet sunken by pain and eyes not yet yellowed by plague. He wakes bereft, on some fundamental level, of the touch of magic that bound him to Noctis, the hum of energy that bound retainer to prince...

He wakes with the imprint of a ring on his finger, the memory of agreeing, and not the damnedest idea where he is.]

Comments

[burninglight]

Of course. That shouldn't be a problem at all. Shall we handle that today?

[warmgaze]

It's up to you, if you think that isn't pushing too hard.

[He'll only push as hard as you push yourself, Ardyn.]

[burninglight]

Oh, I'll be perfectly alright. I'm far tougher than I look.

[warmgaze]

Then give me a moment to finish this and we'll be off.

[Coffee is important.

Really, probably neither of them should be quite up yet and they'll probably pay for it later, but Ignis would dearly like to have a few of his own things and the ability to see clearly again. If he can even get the latter.]

[burninglight]

[it's fine]

[perfectly fine]

[of course proto-insomnia has glasses they've still got magitek for a little while]

[warmgaze]

[Thank goodness, they'll do that first.

Which of course involves a great deal of squinting through lenses followed by sitting around picking out frames, but hey. At least it... works?

Ignis has gone for some fairly slim frames as usual.]

Quite a bit heavier than my previous prescription, but I'm grateful to be able to see at all.

[burninglight]

They look good on you.

[Ardyn, meanwhile, was uncomfortably fidgeting with some black frames of his own; he wasn't used to wearing them like Ignis was, and it showed fairly easily.]

[warmgaze]

As do yours. You'll adjust soon enough, I think.

[Also, being a well-prepared person as he is, Ignis also picked them both up a set of elastics, designed to hook around the ears, that would keep said glasses from coming off during fighting. The one he snagged for Ardyn, and hands off now, even mostly fades into the young man's hair.

It will match even better, if the future where Ardyn's hair shifts from a standard red to that odd, shifting maroon-violet should come to pass.]

[burninglight]

They feel weird.

[said like a true annoyed child, naturally.]

[warmgaze]

[Sorry, Ardyn, he's chuckling at you.]

At least you'll be prepared by the time old age strikes.

[Meanwhile, Ignis doesn't have enough vision in his other eye to truly need the other lens. His world will probably never have perfect clarity again, but it's... better.]

[burninglight]

[Ardyn grumbled under his breath in much the way one might expect Noctis to when faced with tomatoes.]

I suppose so.

[warmgaze]

[It is, in fact, stunningly similar, especially now that Ignis has a clearer view of his face.

But we're not stopping for anything here today no sir. Definitely not uncanny resemblances between Chosen Kings.]

Shall we be off to the rest of the shops?

[burninglight]

Right--of course. Let's find you something to wear, first.

[Ardyn gestured for Ignis to follow him; the further they went into the city, the more common it was to hear the occasional hushed awestruck whisper or sidelong glance from passerby in Ardyn's direction.]

[He didn't seem to think too much of it, answering the occasional nervously hesitant greeting with a cheerful wave.]

[warmgaze]

[Perhaps surprisingly, Ignis doesn't pay the hushed whispers any more mind than Ardyn does. He has, after all, spent many years ferrying around a certain other saviour with an equal degree of fame.

If anything, it was his job to make life as normal as possible for Noctis, in spite of those whispers. And he extends that skill to Ardyn now, even while his glances through the crowd are targetted to giving him a better idea of how people normally dress around here, and how many of them are carrying any sort of weapon.

Or, for that matter, who might be locked on a cell phone, if they even have those here. The rest of the crowd, after all, is astonishingly like Insomnia, familiar and unfamiliar all at once.]

I'll have to trust in your taste, since I'm quite lost around here myself.

[burninglight]

Oh, you've nothing to worry about. I know every detail of this city, not to mention I am blessed by a delightful sense of taste.

[warmgaze]

Of course.

[Have you seen yourself in two thousand years, buddy?]

So, where to?

[burninglight]

Oh, I know a few places. Your particular style is...a bit unfamiliar, but we'll find something suitable.

[warmgaze]

I can probably survive in something a bit less formal. This is simply what I had at hand.

[His entire impression of Solheim fashion thus far is 'wow, people here sure do like their layers.'

Vests are nice, though. We can make do with a nice vest or two.]

[burninglight]

Come along, then. I'll see to it you get something comfortable.

[get you a nice vest]

[warmgaze]

[Or possibly several nice vests. There is far more of a variety than he would have expected.

Eventually, with a decent dress shirt beneath a light grey one, Ignis makes his way out of the fitting rooms.]

This should be a start. What do you think?

[burninglight]

[It took a great deal of restraint Ardyn didn't know he had not to answer that question with a low whistle.]

The very picture of dignity and grace.

[warmgaze]

Excellent. That is generally my intent, after all.

[His old clothes are in the bag, to be patched up and given some TLC later. The only thing of his old outfit that he's wearing now is the little skull pendant, strung in its usual place around his neck.]

I might like some gloves, but I wouldn't want to strain your budget.

[burninglight]

Oh, something like that shouldn't be hard to come by back home. One of us might be able to craft you a pair, I'm at least a fair hand with things like that.

[warmgaze]

Truly? That would be most excellent.

[He shifts the bag he's carrying, heavy with any number of clothes, then glances in Ardyn's direction.]

If it's not any trouble, might you...?

[He's careful not to call it the Armiger. At least not until Ardyn or Izunia does. That much, he can keep straight, at least.]

[burninglight]

Hm--oh!

[Ardyn laughed as he realized what Ignis was asking, reaching over for the bags to disappear in a flurry of crystal.]

There, that's better.