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]

[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.

[warmgaze]

Much, thank you. It seems a terribly handy magic to have.

[burninglight]

It is quitea useful trick. I do so love the convenience of it.

[warmgaze]

Especially handy for a traveller, I would imagine. You could stash all manner of camping gear and supplies there.

[...Which is exactly what they did, of course. Some havens had been close enough to the road that going back to the Regalia wasn't out of the question, but others were distinctly not.]</small.

[burninglight]

Oh, I usually do. Camping equipment, food, things like that.

Also weapons. Lots of those.

[warmgaze]

Mm, I wouldn't have guessed. Your experiments with a frying pan certainly didn't give that impression.

[A smile. He's definitely teasing.]

Though, speaking of which, I believe you made mention of perhaps finding a replacement for mine?

[burninglight]

Ah--right, I'd nearly forgotten.

[He eagerly took Ignis' hand, lightly tugging him along.]

Shan't be a problem whatsoever. I know the best armory in the city.

[warmgaze]

[The touch is -

Startling, and yet comfortable. Ignis finds himself gripping that hand back, automatically.

It's different. In his constant comparisons to Noctis, Ignis knows that the prince rarely grabbed his hand like this - that was the domain of Prompto or Iris, both of them more likely to be doing the tugging than being tugged, and Ignis and Gladio trailing along in their wake with fond smiles and headshakes.

But this...

He keeps pace with Ardyn easily, in spite of his thoughts.]

Do you? Lead the way.

[burninglight]

[For all his similarities to Noctis, the Ardyn of two thousand years ago shared more than a few with Prompto. Upbeat and cheerful, with very little thought to personal space or much for propriety.]

[Less a king and more just a person, on the same level as those he was supposedly meant to rule.]

Do trust yourself to my capable hands. I'll not lead you astray.

[warmgaze]

[To be fair, Noctis does his very best to pretend he doesn't care about propriety, either. To Ignis' continual frustration.

(Does Ardyn even know, yet, of the throne that awaits? It's not exactly the sort of thing Ignis can just come out and ask.)]

Of course. My fate is in your hands.

[Or perhaps Ardyn's is in his. And isn't that a scary thought.]

[burninglight]

You're not the first, and you're far from the last.

[let's get you some nice weapons, cutie.]