Something not to do with the war... Ignis thinks back to his combat teacher, the many hours spent polishing up his skills against the more experienced fighter. There were some techniques he knew that he'd never learn, of course, access that would probably be always denied to him, but that didn't mean Nyx was no less good a fighter all on his own. More than that, he always thought the other man had, well. A charisma to him. A similar charisma to Gladio, he thinks, which certainly explained a lot about the two of them in hindsight.
Sometimes, hearing what he could of his homeland as well... Ignis had wondered on occasion what it would have been like if he could have met Nyx there, gone with him, without the war to worry about.
The war that always hung over all of their heads.
...He wonders just what it means, to be 'gone' from this place.
There's so much work for him to do. Yet he suspects that finding out more about that particular line of inquiry will take considerable long-term work. For now, on his first day here, he should manage more immediate matters, and nods at the description that Noctis gives. Weird, fishes - a king too? Ignis glances at Noctis from the corner of his eye, trying to see if there's anything behind those words, but no. He just keeps walking, engrossed in his explanation of his friend.
...Ignis knows what that means. For Noctis to be king. Of course, it means a great deal of things, things that Ignis had been raised his entire life to help him with no matter what, and things he may still not know of yet with what's been alluded to him from the others. And yet there's one thing in particular his mind flicks back to.
How could it not, considering the last argument that he and Noctis had? The subject which always seemed to be looming over everyone's head, seeing grey grow from flecks to strands, the click of a cane against hard floor?
...Noctis isn't thinking about this, in this one little offhand comment. He's had time to think on this, adjust to it. So Ignis won't allow himself to bring up old thoughts, especially without knowing all the details first. So, even as his other hand stays relaxed and warm in Noct's grip, his other slips into his pocket to - briefly, just briefly - curl into an unsure fist.
But otherwise he tucks this knowledge back in his head alongside so many other things to turn over in his mind later. "Intense?" he asks instead, raising an eyebrow. "In what way? Has he said things which make you think that?"
no subject
Sometimes, hearing what he could of his homeland as well... Ignis had wondered on occasion what it would have been like if he could have met Nyx there, gone with him, without the war to worry about.
The war that always hung over all of their heads.
...He wonders just what it means, to be 'gone' from this place.
There's so much work for him to do. Yet he suspects that finding out more about that particular line of inquiry will take considerable long-term work. For now, on his first day here, he should manage more immediate matters, and nods at the description that Noctis gives. Weird, fishes - a king too? Ignis glances at Noctis from the corner of his eye, trying to see if there's anything behind those words, but no. He just keeps walking, engrossed in his explanation of his friend.
...Ignis knows what that means. For Noctis to be king. Of course, it means a great deal of things, things that Ignis had been raised his entire life to help him with no matter what, and things he may still not know of yet with what's been alluded to him from the others. And yet there's one thing in particular his mind flicks back to.
How could it not, considering the last argument that he and Noctis had? The subject which always seemed to be looming over everyone's head, seeing grey grow from flecks to strands, the click of a cane against hard floor?
...Noctis isn't thinking about this, in this one little offhand comment. He's had time to think on this, adjust to it. So Ignis won't allow himself to bring up old thoughts, especially without knowing all the details first. So, even as his other hand stays relaxed and warm in Noct's grip, his other slips into his pocket to - briefly, just briefly - curl into an unsure fist.
But otherwise he tucks this knowledge back in his head alongside so many other things to turn over in his mind later. "Intense?" he asks instead, raising an eyebrow. "In what way? Has he said things which make you think that?"