It has often been said by many that Cecil's greatest strengths are also her greatest weaknesses. Her merciful nature, her kindness, her loyalty... These are by far the traits that have brought both wonderful people into her life, and also great pain and suffering— and not just to herself but to those around her more significantly. As much as she has paid for her sins and actively risked her life to set things right, the knight-queen knows she can never, ever repay her debts to society. Here, things are different purely because of circumstance, but she carries on her shoulders the burden of rebuilding her world and the guilt of the lives she took, always.
An argument could be made that her offer to Ignis was made out of good intentions, but she would ask herself later if her mercy merely served as a thin veil for her selfish need to atone for her past, even when she was far from home and no one here personally was someone who had suffered under the dark knight's steadfast devotion to her king.
It's a lovely evening. The air is crisp and clean from day's rain and the green grass glistens with dew in the fading light of the sunset. The sky is a gradient of colors and Cecil sits beside Ignis, holding his hand and describing it to him, because it's a shame to not be able to share such a sight in the most literal of ways, she thinks. Her words, though, don't do it justice. She is no poet.
"...Would you... like to see it yourself?" the half-Lunarian asks after a bit, her voice soft and a little tight with apprehension. She's considered this for a while, but hasn't yet had the courage to broach the subject. She turns to look at Ignis, hesitating as she tries to gauge his reaction to that before pressing on. "I... I have an idea."
He had resolved not to weigh the others down, once he had recovered fully. Though he had long accepted that he would not again see the looks on his brothers' (nor the lady beside him, Astrals bless her kind soul for describing the sights to her best ability) reactions to his cooking again. Were he able to use his knives again without fear of slicing his own fingers open, that is. Of all the things that he mourned for in losing his sight in service to the crown, it was this that stung most of all.
Not that he would regret his actions in the slightest, no. He would find contentment, so long as he drew breath. Yet as those words left the foreign queen's lips, his brows (or rather, what was left of them) furrowed tightly. The physicians the Councilwoman had called for to tend to him had been certain that he would never see again, and if he did somewhat recover his vision, it would be forever obscured by the scarring. Then it clicks, and what would otherwise have been a brief moment where an enlightened glint in his eye only reflected pale blue in the setting sun.
"I... am aware of your gods given talent," he began, recalling her ability to heal wounds much akin to the potions via his King's magics. Yet even that had done naught to heal that which no longer existed. "A gift that, other than what belongs to the Oracle line, does not otherwise exist on this Star."
Yet for all he knew, he knew less of its effectiveness - an uncertainty that left him both hoping that it might work, and despairing should it not. He attempted to "look" towards her, but found his apprehension forcing him to only do so half-way. "Are you certain?"
Cecil nods, though he cannot see her, and she clasps her other hand over his warmly, a thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. She is certain, but she can tell he is less so and she doesn't blame him for that in the least bit. He has every reason to hesitate.
"There are no gods where I am from," she says quietly, "We shape our own fate." And while she believes that wholeheartedly, her existence and the struggle of the Blue Planet against terrible foreign forces was prophesied. She does not tell Ignis this though. The crystals were the closest thing they had to gods, but the sentient stones served a different purpose to the planet and its people than Ignis's gods do.
"I will confess— I have never tried to heal a wound as grievous as yours before. I do not know if it will work or for how long the effects will last, should they work at all." Cecil frowns to herself at this, wishing she could give him more absolutes than simply variables. "But I am certain I want to try. You are a good man, Ignis. If there is anything I can do for you, I want to do it.
"However... this is your choice and yours alone to make. If you wish not for this opportunity and would rather not speak of it again, I will respect your decision."
And she will, even though in her heart, she feels Ignis deserves so much better than the hand he's been dealt. She would indeed move mountains if it meant she could restore to him that which was taken. She knows the punishment for fealty too readily given, but Ignis gave his loyalty to a worthy cause from the start. He doesn't deserve this. Not even she suffered what he has in service to her own king. It's not right. And she can't just sit back and let this be without trying for him. She cares too much for him to let it go.
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textsfrom2017-02-22 10:48 pm
threads with twee-chan;
jamjar with noctis.*
tfln: regarding ignis's baked fish dinners.
tfln: ardyn never drinks on the job.
tfln: ignis is a gentleman.
dear player: ardyn and the darkness of mankind*.
tfln: cadbury coffee with ignis.
rate that ass: surprise appearance by ignis.
tfln: ignis and cecil give up on parenting the prince. at least for a while.
tfln: ardyn congratulates cecil on hookups with childhood friends*
needofvision; 1
An argument could be made that her offer to Ignis was made out of good intentions, but she would ask herself later if her mercy merely served as a thin veil for her selfish need to atone for her past, even when she was far from home and no one here personally was someone who had suffered under the dark knight's steadfast devotion to her king.
It's a lovely evening. The air is crisp and clean from day's rain and the green grass glistens with dew in the fading light of the sunset. The sky is a gradient of colors and Cecil sits beside Ignis, holding his hand and describing it to him, because it's a shame to not be able to share such a sight in the most literal of ways, she thinks. Her words, though, don't do it justice. She is no poet.
"...Would you... like to see it yourself?" the half-Lunarian asks after a bit, her voice soft and a little tight with apprehension. She's considered this for a while, but hasn't yet had the courage to broach the subject. She turns to look at Ignis, hesitating as she tries to gauge his reaction to that before pressing on. "I... I have an idea."
no subject
Not that he would regret his actions in the slightest, no. He would find contentment, so long as he drew breath. Yet as those words left the foreign queen's lips, his brows (or rather, what was left of them) furrowed tightly. The physicians the Councilwoman had called for to tend to him had been certain that he would never see again, and if he did somewhat recover his vision, it would be forever obscured by the scarring. Then it clicks, and what would otherwise have been a brief moment where an enlightened glint in his eye only reflected pale blue in the setting sun.
"I... am aware of your gods given talent," he began, recalling her ability to heal wounds much akin to the potions via his King's magics. Yet even that had done naught to heal that which no longer existed. "A gift that, other than what belongs to the Oracle line, does not otherwise exist on this Star."
Yet for all he knew, he knew less of its effectiveness - an uncertainty that left him both hoping that it might work, and despairing should it not. He attempted to "look" towards her, but found his apprehension forcing him to only do so half-way. "Are you certain?"
no subject
"There are no gods where I am from," she says quietly, "We shape our own fate." And while she believes that wholeheartedly, her existence and the struggle of the Blue Planet against terrible foreign forces was prophesied. She does not tell Ignis this though. The crystals were the closest thing they had to gods, but the sentient stones served a different purpose to the planet and its people than Ignis's gods do.
"I will confess— I have never tried to heal a wound as grievous as yours before. I do not know if it will work or for how long the effects will last, should they work at all." Cecil frowns to herself at this, wishing she could give him more absolutes than simply variables. "But I am certain I want to try. You are a good man, Ignis. If there is anything I can do for you, I want to do it.
"However... this is your choice and yours alone to make. If you wish not for this opportunity and would rather not speak of it again, I will respect your decision."
And she will, even though in her heart, she feels Ignis deserves so much better than the hand he's been dealt. She would indeed move mountains if it meant she could restore to him that which was taken. She knows the punishment for fealty too readily given, but Ignis gave his loyalty to a worthy cause from the start. He doesn't deserve this. Not even she suffered what he has in service to her own king. It's not right. And she can't just sit back and let this be without trying for him. She cares too much for him to let it go.