feel my skin as the sun burns in

[nocteconsilium]

[ It had started as a prickling beneath his skin, restlessness that had Noctis pacing the halls of the citadel, and when that proved not to offer any relief, he'd headed farther afield. Saturday meant no school, and no training to work off the strange buzzing, too much energy spilling over, needing an outlet. Heading into the city and picking up Prompto for a day at the arcade had seemed like a good idea. Better, at least, than staying cooped up and going out of his mind with whatever cabin fever's infected him for the day.

At least, he'd thought that. Wandering the city streets, unobtrusive in his rattiest jeans and an oversized hoodie that made his dad twitch whenever he saw Noctis in it, had been a relief for a little while. He hadn't bothered to tell Ignis he was going, couldn't bear waiting that long or having Ignis ask him what was wrong, drag him to the royal physician for the faint flush to his skin, and besides, like this, he looked like any other bored teenager even if he was still wearing royal black. He'd just had to get out, and it had at least felt better for a while, like he was doing something, not just stuck in one place waiting for the itch creeping up his spine to get worse and worse. Noctis would have chalked the whole thing up to a bit of stir crazyness, except then it got worse.

By the time he realizes just how bad it is, he doesn't even know where in the city he's gotten to. The whole district is unfamiliar, crowded and dirtier than anywhere he's been before — maybe one of the refugee districts? He doesn't know and he's in no state to care when his head is spinning, when it's taking all he has just to stumble a few more steps. The sun beating down is turning the air thick and suffocating, heavy in a way Noctis hasn't felt it since he was a kid just learning to brave the light of day. His whole body is hot, something molten burning beneath his skin, and he can't concentrate on anything else but the crawling, consuming need—

He doesn't even register what's happening as he staggers to his knees, his arms clenched around himself, trying to hold the burning in. Doesn't notice as he sinks back against the wall of the nearest building that there are footsteps coming down the street towards him. Doesn't notice that his careless disguise is useless with the hood fallen down, his head tilted back as he pants, slitted eyes closed but the sharp glint of his fangs in full view. ]