[prompto thinks it's best for his state of mind to just--ignore the idea, the possibility that one ardyn izunia is here in this cave he has to now call his new (temporary) home, which is why he heads out to where he's sure he won't find many people. one thing isn't so quite directly impacted by the other, however. prompto has decided to go and do what he does best, especially when stressed, and that is to go scout out places to take pictures from.]
[a task he manages without much issue or delay. the orchards offer a sense of normalcy, away from the rugged temples and the spiral homes.]
[he's snapping away, silent, humming to himself once in a while as he adjusts his lens before taking a shot.]
Ah, nice one...
[that's a jabberjay taking flight, and he's pretty proud of that picture, even as he centers his attention to looking through his camera's screen, bouncing on the ball of his feet just so.]
[Ardyn is a man with all the time in the world; his need for rest is not as prevalent as most (perhaps non-existent, the alien notion of rest escaping him such a long time ago), and his propensity to learn more about his new surroundings was frustrating, clawing at the back of his mind. It turns out that this manifests itself as him wanting to explore more than just the caves, more than just the empty housing, more than just the armory.
As misfortunate would have it, Ardyn's found the orchard. Any sense of normalcy that Prompto might have garnered from this location is about to be stripped away completely, because he spots the boy almost immediately. He makes his way towards him, though he may not be noticed just yet -- the only thing that gives away his presence are his footsteps bending blades of grass underfoot, and it seems as if the young man's back is turned to him while he fiddles with his camera.
His grin is sharp, as it often is. His voice cuts through the rustle of leaves, and if Prompto still doesn't take notice, he'll speak when he's only a few feet away.]
[prompto doesn't notice, because he doesn't expect anyone. it's probably foolish of him, but then again, he's never been as battle ready as his brothers. more the "i made a mistake once, it won't happen again" type, he only notices someone is there when they speak.]
[and exactly the person he was trying to keep away from]
[nearly jumping out of his skin, he stumbles on his feet but manages to keep himself standing, turning to face ardyn, hold on camera tightening as he takes a couple of steps back. hiding behind any of the trees won't help him much at all.]
[running... he's far away from any semblance of places to hide. he's going to have to tough this one out.]
[anyone can tell he's terrified, not just by his posture, but also by how he doesn't say anything, stuck instead in silence, waiting for the hammer to drop. he doesn't engage--not because he doesn't want to, but because he can't.]
[Prompto is so easy to read, it's almost laughable. The terror is so clearly written on his features, and when Ardyn has done barely anything at all, no more than speak a few words.
It's telling, the kind of power he has over the boy, because of fear. Because of what he hangs over Prompto's head, that awful truth that allows him to pull at his strings without any effort at all.]
Did I startle you? [A question that's cruel in how understated it is. He even laughs a little at it, stepping closer.]
What's wrong? I haven't come to hurt you. Not this time, not like before. [Before. In the Keep. Don't believe a word he says.] I didn't even expect to find you here, but now I'm glad I did. I have something I need to clarify with you, Prompto.
[at the order, he stammers. prompto knows he could answer back, retaliate somehow, but he finds himself unable to do so. instead, with another backward step, he produces:]
N-No.
[to the question about whether the cat got his tongue. a part of him wants to believe ardyn's words that he will not be hurt again this time, but prompto knows that he should not trust this man. the sinking feeling of dread at the need for clarification will not likely bode him well.]
[(but the chancellor is a fairly level-headed man, isn't he? despite who he is and what he does, he's never once struck without need. prompto isn't giving him a reason to...)]
[the wind picks up, rustling the branches and leaves around them, at the same time as prompto coughs up his voice]
[The wind plays at the edges of his coat, at his hair, which already looks perpetually windswept as it is. Such lackadaisical imagery contrasts with what Prompto should know of this man; what he's capable of, what he's already done. And yet he seems satisfied at Prompto finding his voice again, and Ardyn steps close enough to bridge any real gap between them. They stand as close as two people would, having a casual, friendly conversation.
This is a bit more complicated than that.]
You remember our conversation from before? [He doesn't need to wait for an answer to that question, and so he carries on.] When I had asked you who else from Eos resided here? Tell me, what was your answer?
[eyes widen before he levels his gaze down at his feet, scouring his thoughts for what's to come--for what he's said before. prompto has done foolish things before--he will be the first to attest to that under serious trial--but this is one of the most foolish ones: to think that ardyn izunia would not seek and try to fact check any information prompto has oh-so-willingly provided him with.]
Myself, and... Noct, and Gladio...
[he doesn't lift his gaze, knowing immediately what ardyn's retort to that will be]
[and prompto hates himself. hates himself for answering so obediently, for doing nothing more but curling his toes inside his boots and keeping his place, hands useless around his camera, still.]
[The way that Prompto won't look at him (again) reveals that he knows where this may be going. Ardyn is more than happy to oblige, and he leans forward, as if drawing nearer -- even by only a few inches -- would be enough to get the point across with dreadful poignancy.]
Yourself, Noct, and Gladio. [He repeats, the familiarity of nicknames seeming wrong coming from his mouth. His grin widens, though the humor is twisted.] Do you not think you might have forgotten someone?
[His words are languid and lilting, and so it's with surprising, disturbing contrast that a hand comes out and latches itself onto Prompto's shoulder. His fingers press into skin, harshly. Painfully. Probably enough to bruise, as Ardyn's strength is anything but human.
Prompto was right. Ardyn won't lash out, he won't strike without provocation. But he can find other ways to get a point across, and words coupled with pain are often difficult to forget.]
Or did you think I would not notice a dead King walking amongst us? [Regis, brought back from the dead. Their meeting had been quite the dramatic one.]
[the moment ardyn's hand lands and grips his shoulder, prompto's camera falls to the ground. the instinct of flight is there, as he takes a hesitant attempt at a step back, but fails to execute it halfway through. the pain in his expression is nothing but not obvious; teeth bite down at his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in pain, the curl at the end of his lips a mix of fear and pain]
[he tries hunching down his shoulders as to escape ardyn's hold, to no foreseeable avail]
Hngh... I didn't... Didn't think it was important!
[and although he speaks slightly more confidently, it's short of a gasp at this point]
[between a sharp blade and a rock, prompto can see no escape. to tell his friends what ardyn's been up to is out of the question; thus, to admit half-truths to this man becomes a dangerous endeavour.]
Honest! Since, since the King is dead back in Eos! I, I... [his shoulder hurts]
[He didn't think it was important. What a farce he cannot help but think to himself, for Ardyn Izunia cannot imagine that wayward loyalty did not have something to do with omitting this piece of information.
When Prompto hunches down, Ardyn only continues to press. His vice-grip seems unrelenting, but he'll let go soon enough, simply because it's pointless to have the boy in pain to the point of speaking jibberish at him.]
Then allow me to be more clear. It is important. Being dead does not exclude him or anyone else from my interest. And honestly, I think you're smart enough to realize that. But allow me to give you the benefit of the doubt this one time, because I'm such a generous individual.
[His next words are almost a hiss, like a snake coiled up and ready to strike.]
Is there anyone else here that you've neglected to tell me about? Answer wisely, now.
[through the pain and through ardyn's words, all prompto can think is that he needs to somehow warn lunafreya; that he can't betray her like this--that he can't let her be used as a source of weakness for noctis, that he can't let her be hurt, in whatever fashion he, prompto argentum, can manage. he loves her very much, in the end.]
[and her name is the last thing that will ever come past his lips]
[his hands, once useless, now hold on to ardyn's hand--not managing anything to stop the other, as it's a feeble attempt to remove the pain from himself]
[The hand grasping at his does little to alter the force behind his grip. Prompto tells him that there's no one, and while Ardyn can't confirm it one way or another, he certainly doesn't completely trust him to tell the truth, all things considered.
The idea to crush Prompto's bones beneath his fingers does flit through his mind briefly, but thankfully Ardyn's reasoning wins out. If he was lying, then his loyalty was something that couldn't be budged so easily through mere pain. This would require a more subtle touch, the sort that took time, not mere moments of suffering. And if he is telling the truth? All the better, then.
Ardyn releases his grip. He lets the boy crumple, or stand fully, whichever he decides upon. It doesn't matter.]
[he crumples to his knees, a gasp from the release and groans from the impact to the hard ground. he holds on to his shoulder as if that would somehow soothe the pain, reminded too closely of prior encounters in eos of the like he doesn't want to particularly remember.]
[his breathing is quick, ragged to a point, as he scrambles for his camera and tries to get back up on his feet]
'm sorry...
[it's not so much at ardyn as it is to his friends. friends whom he feels he is betraying more and more by every passing second, no matter how much he is trying not to.]
[he doesn't quite manage to get back up, instead finding himself to lean against one of the trees, clutching at his camera.]
[Ardyn almost looks as if he’s lost all interest in Prompto the moment the boy slumps against the tree. He steps forward and past him, hand against the trunk of an adjacent one, a completely idle gesture. Lets him writhe and whimper with the lingering pain he’s inflicted, uncaring. The breeze seems to die down, if only for a moment.
His back is turned to him now, and there’s something eerie about the way he holds himself that contrasts against the green around him, against nature itself, or so it would seem. If one were to be particularly dramatic, it could be said that his presence is something akin to a blight against the otherwise peaceful scenery — or maybe such a way of thinking is merely a consequence of the anxiety he inspires in others.
Still, his tone remains unflappable.]
Apologies will hardly get you anywhere.
[For both himself, and yes, for his friends. He hears the implication for what it truly is.
Turning only enough to look over his shoulder, he adds:]
[a part of prompto is growing relieved realising that ardyn is about to leave. another part of him realises that he needs to be more careful, because the older man could easily find him in a place like this; it's just a matter of time. it won't be long before more expedite methods of communication begin to take place, and the idea is revolting in itself.]
[it's more disturbing that ardyn does not stop talking. the reality of his words sinking in with understanding.]
[apologies won't make it any better with his friends in the end.]
...
[he's torn asunder just with words--just with the bruising pain of his shoulder a firm reminder that he's of no import to a man like ardyn. disposable. replaceable.]
[as you were made to be]
[it strikes a chord more than it should, the verbal reminder of his place in the bigger picture. he curls his hand onto the ground, gravel and dirt in his fist, lips tightly bit shut. he remembers: noctis chasing him angrily in the train, telling him it was all his fault--always following him around, and what for? he had really tried to kill him back then, hadn't he?]
[there's an angry but equally ashamed burn of tears in his eyes, and although his back is to ardyn, prompto curls his shoulders, hiding onto himself]
[this sense of freedom... it wasn't really real, was it?]
[his voice but a quiet whisper, strained with how discouraged he feels.]
[Ardyn lets the silence linger, if only to take in Prompto’s tone. Truly, utterly defeated-sounding. It was almost too easy, and the man has to actually hold back a laugh at the sight.]
Good.
[Good. Wallow in uncertainty and sorrow for a bit longer, feeling as if he has no one, as if those closest to him are just a hair’s breadth away from tossing him away, not unlike discarded trash.
It hurts, doesn’t it, Prompto? It very well should.]
Now then, I think that’s all for today. Please don’t let me interrupt your little activity of taking scenic pictures, dear Prompto.
[And so, if the boy has nothing to say to him, he gives a little wave of his hand, and begins to walk away, calling out:]
I’ll be keeping in touch!
Edited (EDITS HOURS LATER FOR TYPOS? u bet :') ) 2017-03-14 16:15 (UTC)
[There are some people whose absence is noted more than others. Maybe it should make her feel guilty, but it doesn't. For better or worse, Ellie has found herself caring. A lot. One panicked night is long enough- too long- to figure out who is still beside her, and who is not.
She should be used to this, by now. It never hurts less. She's stupid.
The networks aren't working as they should. Videos glitch and squeal, and some messages go missing. Others... Well. Others get stuck halfway, waiting for the system to mend itself. Waiting for someone to come back.]
dont know how the network is on your end. not great here but i have to try so. if you get this, tell me youre okay?
im fine. looks like things are gonna be pretty shitty, but im not gonna let Fear throw a hissy fit over his own fuck up and do nothing to fix it. and it looks like a lot of people feel the same. so what you SHOULD be taking from this message is that im seeing you again and im giving you your gun back and you better not fucking die or do anything stupid because i'll be really pissed off
okay thats thats all i wanted to say
please answer me
Re: text; 3/29 .... [error: failure to send] .... 4/9
[he... realises he received this message way late. he reads it over a couple times, noting and reading between the lines just how worried ellie is for him.]
i'm guessing this should've reached me a lot sooner than now hey ellie it's me prompto
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@ardyn
[a task he manages without much issue or delay. the orchards offer a sense of normalcy, away from the rugged temples and the spiral homes.]
[he's snapping away, silent, humming to himself once in a while as he adjusts his lens before taking a shot.]
Ah, nice one...
[that's a jabberjay taking flight, and he's pretty proud of that picture, even as he centers his attention to looking through his camera's screen, bouncing on the ball of his feet just so.]
no subject
As misfortunate would have it, Ardyn's found the orchard. Any sense of normalcy that Prompto might have garnered from this location is about to be stripped away completely, because he spots the boy almost immediately. He makes his way towards him, though he may not be noticed just yet -- the only thing that gives away his presence are his footsteps bending blades of grass underfoot, and it seems as if the young man's back is turned to him while he fiddles with his camera.
His grin is sharp, as it often is. His voice cuts through the rustle of leaves, and if Prompto still doesn't take notice, he'll speak when he's only a few feet away.]
Enjoying yourself?
[Guess who's here to change that.]
no subject
[and exactly the person he was trying to keep away from]
[nearly jumping out of his skin, he stumbles on his feet but manages to keep himself standing, turning to face ardyn, hold on camera tightening as he takes a couple of steps back. hiding behind any of the trees won't help him much at all.]
[running... he's far away from any semblance of places to hide. he's going to have to tough this one out.]
[anyone can tell he's terrified, not just by his posture, but also by how he doesn't say anything, stuck instead in silence, waiting for the hammer to drop. he doesn't engage--not because he doesn't want to, but because he can't.]
no subject
It's telling, the kind of power he has over the boy, because of fear. Because of what he hangs over Prompto's head, that awful truth that allows him to pull at his strings without any effort at all.]
Did I startle you? [A question that's cruel in how understated it is. He even laughs a little at it, stepping closer.]
What's wrong? I haven't come to hurt you. Not this time, not like before. [Before. In the Keep.
Don't believe a word he says.] I didn't even expect to find you here, but now I'm glad I did. I have something I need to clarify with you, Prompto.[A beat, then sharply:]
Say something, boy. Cat got your tongue?
no subject
N-No.
[to the question about whether the cat got his tongue. a part of him wants to believe ardyn's words that he will not be hurt again this time, but prompto knows that he should not trust this man. the sinking feeling of dread at the need for clarification will not likely bode him well.]
[(but the chancellor is a fairly level-headed man, isn't he? despite who he is and what he does, he's never once struck without need. prompto isn't giving him a reason to...)]
[the wind picks up, rustling the branches and leaves around them, at the same time as prompto coughs up his voice]
What... is it?
no subject
This is a bit more complicated than that.]
You remember our conversation from before? [He doesn't need to wait for an answer to that question, and so he carries on.] When I had asked you who else from Eos resided here? Tell me, what was your answer?
no subject
[eyes widen before he levels his gaze down at his feet, scouring his thoughts for what's to come--for what he's said before. prompto has done foolish things before--he will be the first to attest to that under serious trial--but this is one of the most foolish ones: to think that ardyn izunia would not seek and try to fact check any information prompto has oh-so-willingly provided him with.]
Myself, and... Noct, and Gladio...
[he doesn't lift his gaze, knowing immediately what ardyn's retort to that will be]
[and prompto hates himself. hates himself for answering so obediently, for doing nothing more but curling his toes inside his boots and keeping his place, hands useless around his camera, still.]
no subject
Yourself, Noct, and Gladio. [He repeats, the familiarity of nicknames seeming wrong coming from his mouth. His grin widens, though the humor is twisted.] Do you not think you might have forgotten someone?
[His words are languid and lilting, and so it's with surprising, disturbing contrast that a hand comes out and latches itself onto Prompto's shoulder. His fingers press into skin, harshly. Painfully. Probably enough to bruise, as Ardyn's strength is anything but human.
Prompto was right. Ardyn won't lash out, he won't strike without provocation. But he can find other ways to get a point across, and words coupled with pain are often difficult to forget.]
Or did you think I would not notice a dead King walking amongst us? [Regis, brought back from the dead. Their meeting had been quite the dramatic one.]
no subject
[he tries hunching down his shoulders as to escape ardyn's hold, to no foreseeable avail]
Hngh... I didn't... Didn't think it was important!
[and although he speaks slightly more confidently, it's short of a gasp at this point]
[between a sharp blade and a rock, prompto can see no escape. to tell his friends what ardyn's been up to is out of the question; thus, to admit half-truths to this man becomes a dangerous endeavour.]
Honest! Since, since the King is dead back in Eos! I, I... [his shoulder hurts]
no subject
When Prompto hunches down, Ardyn only continues to press. His vice-grip seems unrelenting, but he'll let go soon enough, simply because it's pointless to have the boy in pain to the point of speaking jibberish at him.]
Then allow me to be more clear. It is important. Being dead does not exclude him or anyone else from my interest. And honestly, I think you're smart enough to realize that. But allow me to give you the benefit of the doubt this one time, because I'm such a generous individual.
[His next words are almost a hiss, like a snake coiled up and ready to strike.]
Is there anyone else here that you've neglected to tell me about? Answer wisely, now.
no subject
[and her name is the last thing that will ever come past his lips]
[his hands, once useless, now hold on to ardyn's hand--not managing anything to stop the other, as it's a feeble attempt to remove the pain from himself]
No one! No, there isn't...
no subject
The idea to crush Prompto's bones beneath his fingers does flit through his mind briefly, but thankfully Ardyn's reasoning wins out. If he was lying, then his loyalty was something that couldn't be budged so easily through mere pain. This would require a more subtle touch, the sort that took time, not mere moments of suffering. And if he is telling the truth? All the better, then.
Ardyn releases his grip. He lets the boy crumple, or stand fully, whichever he decides upon. It doesn't matter.]
See? That's all I wanted to know.
no subject
[his breathing is quick, ragged to a point, as he scrambles for his camera and tries to get back up on his feet]
'm sorry...
[it's not so much at ardyn as it is to his friends. friends whom he feels he is betraying more and more by every passing second, no matter how much he is trying not to.]
[he doesn't quite manage to get back up, instead finding himself to lean against one of the trees, clutching at his camera.]
no subject
His back is turned to him now, and there’s something eerie about the way he holds himself that contrasts against the green around him, against nature itself, or so it would seem. If one were to be particularly dramatic, it could be said that his presence is something akin to a blight against the otherwise peaceful scenery — or maybe such a way of thinking is merely a consequence of the anxiety he inspires in others.
Still, his tone remains unflappable.]
Apologies will hardly get you anywhere.
[For both himself, and yes, for his friends. He hears the implication for what it truly is.
Turning only enough to look over his shoulder, he adds:]
Only obedience, for now. As you were made to be.
no subject
[it's more disturbing that ardyn does not stop talking. the reality of his words sinking in with understanding.]
[apologies won't make it any better with his friends in the end.]
...
[he's torn asunder just with words--just with the bruising pain of his shoulder a firm reminder that he's of no import to a man like ardyn. disposable. replaceable.]
[as you were made to be]
[it strikes a chord more than it should, the verbal reminder of his place in the bigger picture. he curls his hand onto the ground, gravel and dirt in his fist, lips tightly bit shut. he remembers: noctis chasing him angrily in the train, telling him it was all his fault--always following him around, and what for? he had really tried to kill him back then, hadn't he?]
[there's an angry but equally ashamed burn of tears in his eyes, and although his back is to ardyn, prompto curls his shoulders, hiding onto himself]
[this sense of freedom... it wasn't really real, was it?]
[his voice but a quiet whisper, strained with how discouraged he feels.]
...yes, sir.
no subject
Good.
[Good. Wallow in uncertainty and sorrow for a bit longer, feeling as if he has no one, as if those closest to him are just a hair’s breadth away from tossing him away, not unlike discarded trash.
It hurts, doesn’t it, Prompto? It very well should.]
Now then, I think that’s all for today. Please don’t let me interrupt your little activity of taking scenic pictures, dear Prompto.
[And so, if the boy has nothing to say to him, he gives a little wave of his hand, and begins to walk away, calling out:]
I’ll be keeping in touch!
text; 3/29 .... [error: failure to send] .... 4/9
She should be used to this, by now. It never hurts less. She's stupid.
The networks aren't working as they should. Videos glitch and squeal, and some messages go missing. Others... Well. Others get stuck halfway, waiting for the system to mend itself. Waiting for someone to come back.]
dont know how the network is on your end. not great here but i have to try so. if you get this, tell me youre okay?
im fine. looks like things are gonna be pretty shitty, but im not gonna let Fear throw a hissy fit over his own fuck up and do nothing to fix it. and it looks like a lot of people feel the same. so what you SHOULD be taking from this message is that im seeing you again and im giving you your gun back and you better not fucking die or do anything stupid because i'll be really pissed off
okay thats
thats all i wanted to say
please answer me
Re: text; 3/29 .... [error: failure to send] .... 4/9
i'm guessing this should've reached me a lot sooner than now
hey ellie
it's me
prompto
AAAAAAAAA
yeah it. yeah.
where are you? you ok?