Noctis had awful sleeping habits. He loved sleeping—loved to relax, nap, close his eyes and doze off, and otherwise laze around. He just enjoyed doing it at inopportune times, instead of during nighttime when the rest of the world went to sleep.
He was the last one awake, as usual. That’s how it had been for a while now, since his dad died.
Gladio was usually the first; he had a very structured sleep schedule, and just like clockwork, would turn in to bed at the exact same time every night. Prompto would follow, giving in with a series of little yawns and a big stretch, and he’d slap Noct across the shoulder and retreat into their shared tent.
Ignis would usually stay up the latest, and sometimes they’d talk, but more often they would just sit in silence around the fireplace. Ignis knew him well, sometimes knew Noctis better than he did himself, and the presence, the simple silent companionship, was exactly what he needed.
“Noct,” Ignis said, as he rose to go to bed, “remember, don’t leave the campsite. Don’t go wandering around alone at night.”
“Mmm,” Noctis acknowledged, staring into the bright fire.
“Noctis,” the words repeated, more sternly.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Noctis said this time, waving a hand dismissively.
---
Of course, Noctis never listened.
He shifted in his camp chair, impatient. The magic in his veins got restless, sometimes, told Noctis that he needed to move, needed to pull out his sword and stab something. It was quiet, except for Gladio’s faint snores coming from the tent, and the crackle of the fire as it began to die down into smoldering embers.
Noctis was starting to feel tired, but instead of getting sleepy, it had the opposite effect. He felt alive, he wanted, needed to get out of here, to pretend that his life wasn’t spinning him toward kingship and trying to save his country. The blood of the ancient kings put the magic in him, and sometimes it pushed him in directions that he didn’t understand, but was helpless to resist.
He sighed, stood up from his chair, grabbed a lantern, and prowled off into the night, unsure of where he was going or to what purpose, just knowing he couldn’t be here.
FILL: Uninhibited - Daemon/Noct (noncon) - 1 / ??
He was the last one awake, as usual. That’s how it had been for a while now, since his dad died.
Gladio was usually the first; he had a very structured sleep schedule, and just like clockwork, would turn in to bed at the exact same time every night. Prompto would follow, giving in with a series of little yawns and a big stretch, and he’d slap Noct across the shoulder and retreat into their shared tent.
Ignis would usually stay up the latest, and sometimes they’d talk, but more often they would just sit in silence around the fireplace. Ignis knew him well, sometimes knew Noctis better than he did himself, and the presence, the simple silent companionship, was exactly what he needed.
“Noct,” Ignis said, as he rose to go to bed, “remember, don’t leave the campsite. Don’t go wandering around alone at night.”
“Mmm,” Noctis acknowledged, staring into the bright fire.
“Noctis,” the words repeated, more sternly.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Noctis said this time, waving a hand dismissively.
---
Of course, Noctis never listened.
He shifted in his camp chair, impatient. The magic in his veins got restless, sometimes, told Noctis that he needed to move, needed to pull out his sword and stab something. It was quiet, except for Gladio’s faint snores coming from the tent, and the crackle of the fire as it began to die down into smoldering embers.
Noctis was starting to feel tired, but instead of getting sleepy, it had the opposite effect. He felt alive, he wanted, needed to get out of here, to pretend that his life wasn’t spinning him toward kingship and trying to save his country. The blood of the ancient kings put the magic in him, and sometimes it pushed him in directions that he didn’t understand, but was helpless to resist.
He sighed, stood up from his chair, grabbed a lantern, and prowled off into the night, unsure of where he was going or to what purpose, just knowing he couldn’t be here.