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nocтιѕ lucιѕ caeluм (
2017-02-08 06:49 am (UTC)
noctis lucis caelum; final fantasy road trip simulator
A Day in the Life
(canonpoint: end of Chapter 13)
To be honest, it could be better.
No one ever said that the crown prince had any particular taste or skill in the fine art of architecture and interior decorating. In that respect, it was probably a good thing that the exterior was fixed and couldn't be changed - why anyone let him have control over the decal choices for the Regalia is anyone's guess. But nobody complained, so either the gang didn't want to object and offend their prince's tastes, or (obviously) they all had equally poor decorating taste. If any of the guy showed up here, they're bound to feel right at home.
If. Noctis thinks about that, a lot.
It's precisely why there's a fishing spot in his house. Just around the corner from the quaint, cozy living room reminiscent of a laidback apartment he'd once lived in during his school years despite the occasional bizarre colour pattern along the wall, the floor becomes wooden planks and leads directly to a small, indoor pond - complete with lilypads and tall grass. A frog even hops by every so often. Sometimes it breaks out into showtunes. But for the most part, it's where he goes to relax, to get his mind off of ... everything.
That doesn't always work. It's only been a few days, and everything had happened so quickly, that it was hard
to think about it. His friends were still fighting back there without him. His entire homeworld was being consumed by night, and the daemons were only growing stronger and in greater numbers. There's only so many times he can be told there's nothing he can do to go back, no matter how grave the danger is and how important it was that he be sent home, before he loses his temper and storms off back to his new home to sit at the edge of his indoor dock and sulk. And fish.
Suffice it to say, he fishes a lot.
The problem with indoor fishing is that ... well. It's indoors. Anytime he happens to catch a fish - like now, for example - it catches him off guard, and in his excitement to scramble to his feet and reel the fish in, he pulls a little too hard, and the line snaps, sending the fish flying out the open window. It always disappears (it's a frequent occurrence,) but he still hurries to make his way over to the window, and wave an apology at any potential passers by.
"H-Hey, uh, sorry! They're, uh ... slippery."
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