[ Noctis does not consider himself a natural leader, and neither, he suspects, would his retinue. His duties are brought to him as reminders and are typically performed out of sight of his future – current – subjects, with none of the stalwart gravitas that his father had naturally exuded. But in a situation like this?
There's no speech to give and no delicate political dance to perform, there's just a massive imminent threat and a scared teenager that he knows he has to protect just as surely as he needs to protect himself. And if he's honest with himself? He has no idea what the hell to do and has every reason to be just as afraid, with only action always successfully distracting him from those self-destructive thoughts.
Usually.
You're a fool, Noctis Lucis Caelum, and you can't survive out here on your own. What have you ever done for yourself? How long will you be the protected?
Ropes are drawn tight around his body, cutting into hipbones numbed by the beating of rain against his frame as that dagger suddenly reappears in a wash of blue, refracted light. Its tip cuts into the ship's railing as he stabs it downward to keep himself pulled against it, gaze cutting back to Jonas only for a hurried nod. ]
Okay, I get it already! [ Frustration rolls off of him but it's blunted by a very real swell of gratitude for the rope, one misdirected and the other afforded to just the person it should be. Fuck... is this going to work? Is there any other option they have? Jonas is absolutely right, and it's with that knowledge that his free hand lifts and a glass bottle crystallizes within it, so similar to the blade he's holding tight to but the eerie blue-tinged glow remains. It emanates from the flask that he's suddenly gripping hard enough that it seems it might crack, waiting out the stomach-churning seconds in which the ship crests another wave and begins to dip. ] Stay with me, Jonas – just hold on!
[ It's only when the boat crashes back down hard and starts to level that a strong arm is flinging that spell forward, ice suddenly erupting from the flask's point of contact with the surface of the water like an explosion of sub-zero. The temperature around them plummets as the whorl of ice pulses not once, not twice, but three times, trapping the hull and halting their forward momentum with an impact that nearly pitches him right over the side. ]
no subject
There's no speech to give and no delicate political dance to perform, there's just a massive imminent threat and a scared teenager that he knows he has to protect just as surely as he needs to protect himself. And if he's honest with himself? He has no idea what the hell to do and has every reason to be just as afraid, with only action always successfully distracting him from those self-destructive thoughts.
Usually.
You're a fool, Noctis Lucis Caelum, and you can't survive out here on your own. What have you ever done for yourself? How long will you be the protected?
Ropes are drawn tight around his body, cutting into hipbones numbed by the beating of rain against his frame as that dagger suddenly reappears in a wash of blue, refracted light. Its tip cuts into the ship's railing as he stabs it downward to keep himself pulled against it, gaze cutting back to Jonas only for a hurried nod. ]
Okay, I get it already! [ Frustration rolls off of him but it's blunted by a very real swell of gratitude for the rope, one misdirected and the other afforded to just the person it should be. Fuck... is this going to work? Is there any other option they have? Jonas is absolutely right, and it's with that knowledge that his free hand lifts and a glass bottle crystallizes within it, so similar to the blade he's holding tight to but the eerie blue-tinged glow remains. It emanates from the flask that he's suddenly gripping hard enough that it seems it might crack, waiting out the stomach-churning seconds in which the ship crests another wave and begins to dip. ] Stay with me, Jonas – just hold on!
[ It's only when the boat crashes back down hard and starts to level that a strong arm is flinging that spell forward, ice suddenly erupting from the flask's point of contact with the surface of the water like an explosion of sub-zero. The temperature around them plummets as the whorl of ice pulses not once, not twice, but three times, trapping the hull and halting their forward momentum with an impact that nearly pitches him right over the side. ]