If it wasn't daisies. If the vines weren't twisting in his chest. If the cure wasn't as much of a thorn as the illness. Maybe Noel might even laugh -- if not for that. Because it's true that Inigo looks a little chastened, a little embarrassed, and Noel can't help remembering how easily he fell for the last bit, and Gods be damned, it's been a long time since anyone made him laugh. So-- if only.
But right now, it's the rest of it that weighs on him...and equally, there's a weight of knowing someone is worried about him. So -- he has a responsibility to take this seriously.]
[... Ugh. He's gonna have to talk about it, isn't he. He's quiet a second, and then he forwards the information. His face, his tone, everything about his demeanor expresses reluctance.] ... I heard that telling a secret makes it better. Sounds crazy, right?
[But Inigo's been here longer than him -- he'd be a better judge of whether it counts as crazy, for this place.]
[ It's said in a way that sounds just a little bit sulky, but it's also relatively casual. Inigo's response is fast and pretty normal-sounding, making it indeed sound like this is a pretty common thing for him.
Maybe not the whole specific thing of an illness that's only cured by telling a secret, but it fits in enough with other examples of things he's seen here before that Inigo is willing to believe it.
So-- ]
What are you waiting for then? Tell me a secret! [ Sorry, Noel. Now you're getting grilled.
But it's just because it's for your own good that you're cured ASAP! ]
[Sounds accurate.] Oh, great, [he responds, drily, because this is infuriating and stupid, and frustrating beyond measure, and Noel is irritated over it.
Of course he ends up in a place where wishes mean power and magic doesn't work and now flowers start growing in your chest if you don't spill your personal business. Of course. But-- he can't exactly take it out on Inigo. It can't be blamed on either one of them.
Besides. He's trying to help.
Noel exhales shakily, quiet for a moment. He... he doesn't even know where to start. If he should start. If there's anything that doesn't count as too much. Unfortunately, because this is Noel, it's going to end up being extra in some way anyway.]
... Back home, there's this prophecy. I'm supposed to make a better world with it. But the thing I'm supposed to do in order to make it happen... [a pause; he shakes his head] ... I'm not sure I can do it, anymore.
It's not like you think. [Unique. Heroic. None of that. But it's easier to talk about, now, as vines ease up in his chest. So--he's gotta set things straight, here.] There are lots of moments all along the timeline that are supposed to happen. That need to happen. A prophecy isn't-- special. Just something that has to happen.
[The way he talks about it, it's as if he knows this concept like the back of his hand. A timeline that's malleable, guided by someone who can see it all. He may be the last of them, but he's still part of the Farseer tribe. He still knows what the seeress was able to see. Lightning and Caius, locked in their eternal battle. Cocoon falling. Harbingers of doom that needed to be prepared for.
Bringing about a new world through death. A sacrifice.
It's the worst and best question Inigo could possibly ask. Something like a test: if Noel can't even say it out loud anymore, how could he hope to go through with it when he gets home? And if Inigo thinks the idea of a prophecy is heroic at all...there's no better way to correct that perception.]
I'm supposed to kill someone. A 'savior' for a phony god. ...a friend.
[ Now it's becoming a little bit more like shock. Not because Inigo can't imagine any of this or it being too complicated to him, but exactly because he can recognize this sort of scenario. He can recognize it a little bit too well, making it feel like his heart suddenly stopped beating in his chest for a moment.
He didn't expect to suddenly run into such a familiar story coming from Noel of all people.
Catching his breath again, he quickly forces to speak more, needing to hear more about this. ]
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@flatteries
[If.
If it wasn't daisies. If the vines weren't twisting in his chest. If the cure wasn't as much of a thorn as the illness. Maybe Noel might even laugh -- if not for that. Because it's true that Inigo looks a little chastened, a little embarrassed, and Noel can't help remembering how easily he fell for the last bit, and Gods be damned, it's been a long time since anyone made him laugh. So-- if only.
But right now, it's the rest of it that weighs on him...and equally, there's a weight of knowing someone is worried about him. So -- he has a responsibility to take this seriously.]
Magic. Healing. [Very descriptive!] That-- potion? I got healing magic. Tried that.
[... Ugh. He's gonna have to talk about it, isn't he. He's quiet a second, and then he forwards the information. His face, his tone, everything about his demeanor expresses reluctance.] ... I heard that telling a secret makes it better. Sounds crazy, right?
[But Inigo's been here longer than him -- he'd be a better judge of whether it counts as crazy, for this place.]
no subject
[ It's said in a way that sounds just a little bit sulky, but it's also relatively casual. Inigo's response is fast and pretty normal-sounding, making it indeed sound like this is a pretty common thing for him.
Maybe not the whole specific thing of an illness that's only cured by telling a secret, but it fits in enough with other examples of things he's seen here before that Inigo is willing to believe it.
So-- ]
What are you waiting for then? Tell me a secret! [ Sorry, Noel. Now you're getting grilled.
But it's just because it's for your own good that you're cured ASAP! ]
no subject
Of course he ends up in a place where wishes mean power and magic doesn't work and now flowers start growing in your chest if you don't spill your personal business. Of course. But-- he can't exactly take it out on Inigo. It can't be blamed on either one of them.
Besides. He's trying to help.
Noel exhales shakily, quiet for a moment. He... he doesn't even know where to start. If he should start. If there's anything that doesn't count as too much. Unfortunately, because this is Noel, it's going to end up being extra in some way anyway.]
... Back home, there's this prophecy. I'm supposed to make a better world with it. But the thing I'm supposed to do in order to make it happen... [a pause; he shakes his head] ... I'm not sure I can do it, anymore.
no subject
Inigo blinks at him. He doesn't look shocked out of his mind or anything, but the young man certainly looks surprised. ]
You are the center of a prophecy?
[ He knows it happens sometimes - there are so many stories and legends about this sort of thing where he comes from - but Noel seems so..
.. normal? Maybe that's the right word for it. He doesn't seem like some sort of big hero. ]
What is it that you needed to do?
no subject
[The way he talks about it, it's as if he knows this concept like the back of his hand. A timeline that's malleable, guided by someone who can see it all. He may be the last of them, but he's still part of the Farseer tribe. He still knows what the seeress was able to see. Lightning and Caius, locked in their eternal battle. Cocoon falling. Harbingers of doom that needed to be prepared for.
Bringing about a new world through death. A sacrifice.
It's the worst and best question Inigo could possibly ask. Something like a test: if Noel can't even say it out loud anymore, how could he hope to go through with it when he gets home? And if Inigo thinks the idea of a prophecy is heroic at all...there's no better way to correct that perception.]
I'm supposed to kill someone. A 'savior' for a phony god. ...a friend.
no subject
[ Now it's becoming a little bit more like shock. Not because Inigo can't imagine any of this or it being too complicated to him, but exactly because he can recognize this sort of scenario. He can recognize it a little bit too well, making it feel like his heart suddenly stopped beating in his chest for a moment.
He didn't expect to suddenly run into such a familiar story coming from Noel of all people.
Catching his breath again, he quickly forces to speak more, needing to hear more about this. ]
You were trying to prevent the wrong future.