week 3; comfort

[elemancy]

[it's frustrating. it's upsetting.

this is definitely not how this was supposed to go. one death a week (two, with execution) was bad enough, but this? three dead in one day, plus the others that had been found earlier in the week. not to mention... a culprit, or whoever it is that ends up being the scapegoat.

he probably shouldn't think of that yet.

but it's on noct's mind as he enters the hotel—and he freezes in the doorway upon seeing xion there, looking as if she's in a hurry to leave. but still—he...

he should say something, right? she might want to be left alone, because he sure as hell knows he needed alone time more than once after losing people, but still.]

Xion...

[well. he tried, but he's not sure what to say just yet.]

Comments

[ceded]

[ With the high-pitched whine that comes with the start of tears, she leans into his grip and fists her free hand tightly in his shirt. She feels so ill and hollowed out, like someone reached right into her core and ripped out all her stuffing, leaving her empty and caving in on herself.

His little joke makes her shoulders jump, though it's genuinely hard to say if it's a laugh or silent sob. Either way she nods quickly against him, just ... crying. This is something she's already done today, though maybe not like this. She was still trying to hold back earlier, to keep herself reined in. But she's genuinely trying to take his advice, because as much as she wants to resist, she can feel somewhere that he might be right. Hesitating and holding back hasn't exactly served her well in the past.

Her arm wraps around him to grasp at the back of his shirt instead and she just cries and cries. It's not loud or even very hard. She's tired. It's just ... grieving, which she's had to learn how to do on the fly in this horrible place.

Whenever it is she manages to calm down enough to speak, even if she hasn't quite stopped crying, she'll pull back just enough to be audible instead of all muffled against his shirt, though she doesn't look up at him. ]

When you get home, Noctis ... I think you'll be an amazing king some day.

[elemancy]

[it's clear enough how much xion's needed this—and from this alone, he can see just how much worse it would have been without his urging for her to let it out now.

of course, he's not the most well-equipped for this, and it's been a long time since he's even had to be someone's emotional support in this manner. it's difficult when he's struggling too, but... this is what he has to do, isn't it? if he's going to be a good king, he needs to be able to support and understand people's struggles...

and help to guide them through trying times.

it feels like a test of ability, and he's without a clue if he can even pass it.

but that's why he remains this way, quiet and unmoving as xion cries it all out. he gets it. he understands the pain of loss, he's not going to try and rush her through this process. and even when she pulls away, however slight—his hand remains atop her head, ruffling gently at the hairs and letting out a bit of a noncommittal sound at her words.]

Don't know if I can ever live up to my dad. But... I'm gonna do my best.

[he's not really sure consoling teenage girls is any sort of metric for this, but he won't argue it, it's not the time for that at all.]