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]

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.]

[warmgaze]

Perhaps someday I can return the favor.

[Now let's look at some beautiful stabbies.]

[burninglight]

[YAAAAAY STABBIES]

[Good thing the local armorer not only appeared to know Ardyn on a first-name basis, but also was under the impression he owed the young healer a favor or two.]

[warmgaze]

[Fortunate indeed, because it quickly became clear that Ignis had an eye for quality in form as well as function. He goes so far as to test the balance on two sets of blades before he finds a third that satisfies him - narrower than the ones he left behind with Noctis, but equally long and sharp, their hilts wrapped in black leather.

A change, from the weapons in all-silver that the Crownsguard favored, but perhaps not a bad one.]

I quite like the feel of these, I think.

[A pity he can't test their capacity as spelldaggers, but the metal seems quality enough that it would conduct magic perfectly well, should he ever have the ability again.]

[burninglight]

Delightful. [Ardyn clasped his hands together with a bright smile, sincerely happy Ignis found something he was satisfied with.] You're certain, then?

[warmgaze]

I believe so, unless there's something else hiding out here.

[He sets the blades on the counter, to better examine the detail work on the matching sheaths. He's never had to worry about those before, Armiger-carried weapons simply leaping to hand, but he can adjust well enough.]

...Are wing motifs for weapons common here? I noticed that your sword had one as well.

[Indeed, the daggers have the faint traces of a feather pattern running down the center of the blades, and the sheaths are, if anything, a more explicit continuation of the theme, black leather with a flashy white design.]

[burninglight]

...Hm. Well, I don't know about that one in particular being common, but designs and accessories like that are far from unusual in general. In my case, I presume the design was chosen by the sword's original owner.

[warmgaze]

Perhaps simply a mark of good fortune, then.

[And with that, he sets about settling the sheaths onto his belt so that they'll rest comfortably while remaining easy to draw. Strangely, in spite of his obvious familiarity with the weapons themselves, it takes Ignis a bit of time to get them settled in a way he likes.]

[burninglight]

...Is there something wrong, Ignis?