ARRIVAL LOG 005

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of August 23 (through to August 30th)
WHAT: The fifth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #005

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see four people in black body armor seated opposite you, as well as a man in dark gray scrubs. You realize there are others next to you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of dark streets and neon windows passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips. The vehicle stops. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle: beyond it, a chamber only dimly lit by strips of light along the floor. The nurse moves to stand at the back of the vehicle, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. She doesn't climb out after you, moving to sit as the last passenger is unloaded. The guards keep their heads down. Their actions are quick, firm, but not entirely unkind. Under your feet, you can feel the thrum of heavy bass vibrating through the floor. You see nearby that there is another bus, another load of passengers being helped out, lined up much like you are. Once you're all in place, the guards move down the line, pulling dark hoods over each passenger's head. Your arm is lifted, placed on the shoulder of the passenger in front of you in line. "Hold on," says one of the guards. "Stay quiet. Keep moving until I say stop." There is no will in you to fight the orders. How far you walk is hard to determine. Counting steps is difficult, and any concept of time passing stretches between the sound of footfalls and breathing - soon overshadowed by the music. Growing louder, closer, the heavy bassline begins to reverberate through the air around you, amplified by the acoustics of the place. Melody and vocals become audible, the chatter of a crowd. Finally, you stop, and the hoods are pulled off, following down the line as the guards walk back. You turn to look after them, but they quickly disappear into the darkness of the tunnel behind you. The door in front of you swings open, the full weight of the music washing out. A tall woman with sharp, geometric patterns of ink tattooed across her skin smiles at you with sharp teeth, glowing luminescent in the UV lighting above her. "First timers?" she asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "Don't worry, those costumes are great. Come on, come in." As you move to comply, she takes each of your hands, stamping a twisting design on the back, shining bright in the UV light. "Welcome," she says, as she ushers you out of the lobby and into the noise and crowd beyond. "To the Insomniacs' Ball." ◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> THE INSOMNIACS' BALL

The message from El comes the same as previous: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it. I'm not saying bus #5 got past me, but our favorite mysterious human traffickers have gone seriously sneaky this time around. And I'm not saying I can't help you get to where you need to be, but I can't. This one needs legwork, because you're going to have to land invites to the Insomniacs' Ball. The Insomniacs' Ball is an open secret. A New Amsterdam urban myth, disbelieved by many and desired for by even more. A week long party held every year as the working schedule changes, as the city struggles between the oppressive heat and the shifting of sleep cycles. Whether you'd prefer to be asleep at night or day, the ball doesn't care - a rolling, 24/7 event that continues until it disappears, as quickly as it arrived. Its location is a secret. Existence frowned upon, possibly even shut down by the authorities - dancing until you fall down is hardly advisable while water rationing is in place. Yet every year the rumors spin again, the whispers, clues and tastes and photos shared on social media which vanish before anyone can really be sure what they saw. Whoever puts the ball together is as good at keeping their head down as Morningstar - and most likely greases more wheels, rather than trying to be a wrench in the machine. Either way, all El can do is point you to the same paths anyone else hungry for an invite is taking. THE PUZZLE Emerging on social media like proverbial white rabbits, clues in the form of bizarre symbols, phrases or riddles have appeared, hidden in images or tucked in VR simulations. Solving them isn't for the impatient. Some take more work than others, a knowledge of numbers or pattern recognition, or ancient cultural references. The answers come as new clues, pointing to locations in the city, to other VR simulations, to figures waiting in cafes or particular enemies in your favorite VR video game. A treasure hunt for the modern age, as each step is completed the participants are whittled down, but for anyone who reaches the end, the prize of an invite to one of the most mysterious pieces of New Amsterdam life is worth all of the work to get there. THE DARE The challenges start small. Stand up and sing in a crowded restaurant. Take a selfie at the UNA's front door. Eat a live scorpion. Soon it escalates, taking even the most jaded of adrenaline junkies on a rollercoaster of illegal and death-defying stunts. Joyriding a notorious gangster's hoverbike. Climbing a construction beam between two of the tallest buildings in the city. Standing in central square and declaring yourself to be a Morningstar operative. The risks climb higher and higher, and for some the stakes are too much. Others hold their nerve, eyes set firmly on the goal, the victory of holding an invite in their hands. THE BOON And then there are those who make no effort at all. Passed to them by the hands of lady luck, their invites arrive in their pockets, slid under their doorframes or hidden under a glass at work. Bartenders open up crates of stock and find a wedge of them tucked in amongst the packaging; bike couriers arrive at delivery destinations only to find a parcel waiting there for them. Whether targeted or purely a matter of chance, many attendants at the Insomniacs' Ball will have had the opportunity simply fall in their lap - and some may not recognize what they've received at all. However you've managed to get your hands on an invite, the directions on the back are the same - leading you deep down into the city's underground, past some of the darker corners and into some even darker ones. A rusted, disused door to an abandoned maintenance area wouldn't look like the place, but the intricate geometric design painted silvery and barely visible across the surface matches the invite you hold, and you know you've found the entrance to wonderland. Behind the door, lies a twisting network of tunnels and rooms built into natural caves, ultimately abandoned by the city when its insides proved too difficult to navigate. Now, for a short time, it's home to a carnival of revelry. Strobing neon lights illuminate snatches and glimpses of the crowd, glowing in pools of UV: a dense mass of people from all over the city, young and old, music and dancing flowing from chamber to chamber, clashing and mixing between. Extravagant, outrageous costumes mingle with simple streetwear, or with no-wear at all. People hand out masks, drinks, substances which it may not be advisable to consume. Sealed bottles of water seem to appear from nowhere, passed among the people, their source and seeming escape from the rationing in the city far above going unquestioned. Smaller chambers offer some respite for those who need to take a minute, catch their breath, or want a quiet corner to talk with a new friend. Other chambers contain more hedonistic displays, with most participants always willing to accept another into their number. No one seems to be in any rush - there's roughly a week to soak in all the delights, and you can even come and go as you please, the UV pattern now stamped on your hand allowing access back through the various doors, if you can find your way back to one. But you're here for a different purpose, and whether it took you hours or days to find your way here, you know that the party will end eventually - and anything more unusual which may be hiding inside will be revealed. ◉ The Insomniacs' Ball and the related methods of gaining an invite will last for one week, from August 23-30. New characters can be retrieved at any time during this, or can find their own way out and be discovered on the streets - just please be advised that they will not be able to survive in New Amsterdam without first spending time in the Morningstar safehouse and having their ID set up. ◉ We will not be dictating set pieces of the ARG puzzle or challenges - these are left to player discretion as to what your character would have realistically managed to solve or complete! ◉ The invite themselves are business card sized pieces of metal with an intricate geometric patterns etched on one side, and an address on the other. The address leads to a quick series of clues and locations which will take characters to the door as described. ◉ The same geometric design will be present throughout the ball, worn by some of the guests and doorpeople, and even carved into the walls of some of the caves. ◉ While in the ball, there will be rumors and whispers circulating about the owner of the ball being in attendance, and that particularly impressive guests may earn some special reward - or just guarantee an invite again next year.

> THE SAFEHOUSE

Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense – she'll be open for in depth questions later, but will advise everyone to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. ◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum. ◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries. ◉ While there were previously also NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam, these people have now been moved on to somewhere safer. A few of their belongings remain, discarded or accidentally abandoned. ◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. ◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their being dropped off by the guards before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them. ◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet. ◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until FOUR DAYS AFTER THEIR ARRIVAL AT THE SAFEHOUSE. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until they have been there for four days. At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up. If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below. Please check out our December calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month. As a reminder, AC this month will be a check-in only. AC will be posted on December 20 and close on December 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

try and bitch him out

[mercurio]

[noctis had messaged prompto as much: ignis is here. there was fear in his heart, panic at any subsequent messages showing utter shock and confusion at his appearance--at his being blind. but minutes passed and no such thing came through. amidst the familiar face that he hates has appeared among the sea of newcomers, somehow heading down to the safehouse to seek out ignis frightens him.]

[when he first arrived, he had nothing with him. everything was and felt intrusive, and physical contact came at a cost too uncomfortable. it still is all those things but at a lesser intensity; once you're used to it, it becomes like a droned out noise in the background.]

[stepping inside, he stands stupidly by the door, looking around but afraid to see too much. he wants to avoid ardyn as much as possible, so he sticks to the wall, glancing around at unfamiliar faces--until he spots someone making a bed with precision that spells out 'scientia' so clearly.]

[prompto moves forward towards him, then, holding in his hands a pair of gloves; dark and more rugged than what ignis is definitely used to, but it's the best he could scrounge up in such short notice. and yet he pauses, a few steps behind the other. what did ignis look like, before altissia? faded out memories that he clicked away from too quickly on his camera. the ignis that he last knew -- no. this is better.]

[somehow, prompto finds his voice:] Iggy?

well he brought tribute so i guess its fine

[cheffeur]

[It's probably a far cry from what Prompto may have been expecting. While he's not slumped and scarred and blinded, no starburst burns streaking across the left half of his face, he's still remarkably unkempt from what he prefers his appearance to be. He has the beginnings of hair-growth, at least, the short, soft sort of bristles from just after the 'stubble' stage. There's no glasses to refine his vision, to give him that extra sharp angle and edge, no clear lenses to glare out from. It makes the deep circles under his eyes that much more pronounced- especially with how tumultuous his arrival has been.

Not to mention the ill-fitting, worn-out clothing he'd been supplied- he's even foregoing shoes right now, the ones offered not quite fitting right.

He stands straight at the hesitant speech, though, body language filling in all the gaps that his ruffled appearance leaves. He still carries himself upright and proudly, shoulders rolled back and posture impeccable as ever.]

-Prompto. I was wondering when I might see you. [His lips quirk into a small, almost relieved smile. He had trusted Noctis, of course, that Prompto was also here, that he was fine... but seeing it is another matter entirely. There's a tired hint of wry amusement in is voice as he speaks.] I would have come visit, but it seems as though our fine patrons need more time to forge suitable documentation.

[He gestures to the cot, as though inviting a guest to take a seat.]

How are you faring here?

[If it seems as though Ignis is grasping at control of the situation? It's because he absolutely is, trying to force a semblance of normalcy into a place that's anything but.]

[mercurio]

[the welcome is rather -- solemn, for what prompto was expecting. he stares in obvious awe to see ignis's face, unmarred and his spirits high and proper as they used to be, a obvious sense of 'untouchable' so clear in his posture and words. despite his bedraggled look, the adviser to the crown manages to present himself so efficiently in an almost enviable manner.]

[but past the starstruck moment of seeing an old friend's face where it should be no more, prompto gets to notice the small things in ignis's behavior that give away to what he's trying to do.]

[prompto takes a seat on the edge of the cot, managing a smile back.] Yeah, things were a little crazy outside so I thought I'd give it a day before coming in. It's not so bad, though? I mean -- y'know.

[he isn't sure what he's trying to say, trying to test the waters as to how his relationship with ignis used to be before all the terrible things happened.]

[he settles for:] I'm doing okay.

[even when he isn't.]

[as if remembering just now, he presents the gloves towards ignis.]

Here. I know this aren't really your style, but I thought you might like having 'em in the meantime. I can find better ones later.

[cheffeur]

[He nods, taking a seat on the cot opposite Prompto, allowing them the proximity to speak while still maintaining a comfortable distance. Really, he appreciates the day before Prompto had immediately come to see him. Given him the space to think, to come to terms with where he was and the implications of it, to drive himself half-mad with the sheer desire to understand and the subsequent failure to do so.

It had been enough time for him to put on a facade of composure, to find a strategy to cope.

He sits casually, one leg hooking over the other, hands politely resting on his knees as Prompto speaks. And the words the younger man gives over are... wanting, really. Almost empty devoid of true meaning to Ignis. 'Not so bad'-- Implying that is was bad, perhaps? It's nicety that truly told nothing, really, and his expression is clear enough to give over how unimpressed he is by it.]

Hardly a stunning review. I'm sure you're coping as well as could be expected, though.

[And that's where, absently, that hand comes up to lightly touch at the scar at the beck of his head, the remnants of-- who knows what. A mystery thrust under his flesh, into his mind, one he doesn't have information to even begin comprehending.

But the offering of gloves is a good distraction, and he pauses momentarily, looking at them. He had, unfortunately, discovered the effects of contact with another of the transient arrivals here- and so he takes them carefully, ensuring his fingers stay clear of Prompto's during the handover.]

...Thank you. I appreciate the thought. [They're bulky and leathery and have hints of grease and grime on them, and yet he still takes them carefully, slipping them onto his hand. And they look absolutely ridiculous, large and cumbersome on his hands, clashing atrociously with the old clothing he'd been given upon settling in- and yet he's thankfully nonetheless.]

What have you been doing with yourself here?

[mercurio]

[prompto smiles solemnly at that. takes ignis to provide sufficient insight in a calm, sarcastic manner. he's missed it, probably in the same way you miss a friend you thought you'd never see again.]

[it's going well though, right? so far.]

It's not too difficult to navigate around, to be honest. Once you get out of here, you'll know what I'm talking about.

[he can't help thinking that the gloves don't fit ignis at all, but they're at least better than nothing.]

--me? Nothing too crazy or wild... [he's leaning back and angling himself as to hide the otherwise recently bruise on his face. fighting ardyn would definitely count as crazy and wild, but no one needs to know.] Got a job as an electrician's apprentice. Electrical engineer, more specifically. They're really bossy about the title. [a soft chuckle, mostly to himself.] The pay's okay. You'll be impressed to know Noct and I got a flat.

[he's not really saying much, once again. he's just filling up air time, it feels.]

It's... different, but it's kind of like home a bit. Without the human trafficking and body mod situation. Not that there wasn't any of that in Insomnia--

[pretty sure that was a thing]

Hey, Iggy. [suddenly shifting between topics of conversation] What's the last thing you remember in Eos? Dunno how much Noct has told you, but I can answer any questions you have left over.

[cheffeur]

[It shouldn't be surprising to hear- that Prompto has the beginnings of a career, that he and Noctis had managed to secure a place to live, all on their own. They're both capable, intelligent men who work hard, have good morals and work ethics. And yet-- he is surprised. AT the fact that they'd pulled together, that they'd managed something relatively monumental, given their status as illegal immigrants in this city. Given how different it is from how he usually thinks of them- of Prompto as energetic, try-hard, but ultimately just Noct's friend from school. of Noct as unmotivated until the eleventh hour.

And it shows on his face, really- the way his bros lift and eyes widen-- but the surprise it quickly replaced by a pleased smile.]

That's excellent to hear. Do you enjoy it? You do have a knack for machinery, after all....

[But of course, that train is quickly replaced by the sobering comment about their reality here- and he can't even bring it in himself to argue about whatever underbellies there may or may not have been in Insomnia-- not when Prompto brings up how it had occured to them. Dragged here by means unknown, for reasons unknown, strapped down, something done to them, the idea of sterile gloved fingers pressing into the back of his skull, brushing his brain--

His eyes close for just a second or two, as though mentally shaking off the thought. Lingering won't help.]

Anything that you're imagining happening in Insomnia would never have been to this extent. [He can't feel the implant in his chest, but he knows it's there, and always has to fight off the urge to tear at his own flesh to unearth it, hates the idea of something placed inside of him in such a fashion.

But the last question is curious- and he can't help but remember so many of the discrepancies.]

Cape Caem. Cid had finished his repairs, and we were to set sail in the morning. [His arms fold slowly over his chest. A typically neutral gesture, but one that closes up his body language slightly. The implications here are uncomfortable, to say the least.] You let Talcott play with your camera, showing him how to change the settings.

I suppose you have a reason for needing me to answer that? [Because he'd seen Prompto. They'd been in the same room, fallen asleep. And yet here Prompto and Noctis were- established and well, hair having had weeks to begin growing back in earnest. Victims of the same modification, but at another time.]

[mercurio]

[at the question of whether or not he enjoys it, prompto opts to keep the words to himself, shrugging just so to imply neither yes nor no. it doesn't feel like a relevant point of conversation and, besides, prompto has never been one to like to talk about himself too overly much.]

[especially when he's grasping at a memory that's somehow too precious, it's crazy to think he forgot about it at all.]

I remember that...

[talcott. cape caem. a succinct moment of normalcy in their lives that was spinning out of control, towards a whirlwind of unknown damage in its path.]

[he steels his resolve.]

We all come from somewhat different timelines, I guess. It's not unheard of. Not everyone here is from Eos, actually. You'll notice a lot of discrepancies, but don't try and make too much sense of them. We're totally out of our depth here.

[cheffeur]

[Really, he takes the information surprisingly well, seeing as it's absolutely mad and impossible. But while the idea of multiple timelines presenting themselves seems impossible, it makes everything else make more sense. The fact that Prompto would even ask this. The idea that he had seen the two right before awakening here, and yet Noctis and Prompto had already been present in this world. Aranea's time away from the Empire being 'ages'. The lack of recognition he had for even the most basic parts of the world- the cities, the planet's name, the near-oppressive, claustrophobic atmosphere of the city itself. The other people in the same situation as himself.

It's an impossible idea, but it's the only one, for now, that fits.

He takes in a slow breath, steadying it, before nodding.] I see. I'd wondered if something like that would end up being the case.

[And he absolutely will not take Prompto's suggestion of not trying to make sense of it. it';s just not who he is.]

And you? I take it your last memories of Eos are different. It sounds as though my most previous memory is a farther recollection for you, given your response.

[mercurio]

[damned be the fact that he has the worst poker face in existence and he can never quite control his emotions on the spot without giving himself away. biting the inside of his cheek, prompto leans back and tries--for once--to think through his words before actually saying them.]

Yeah, they're different.

[he's told noctis as much and there would be no point in trying to hide it with a lie, considering noctis is more earnest about honesty with his adviser. and, to be fair? prompto shouldn't have reason to be hiding things.]

As far as I'm concerned, we were on a train on our way to Tenebrae before we continued on to Gralea. We had already found one of the tombs in Catarnica, and -- Altissia was almost a month ago.

[keep steady.]

[cheffeur]

[And unfortunately for Prompto's poor poker face, Ignis is nothing if not perceptive. (perhaps a little less so right now, without his glasses. Everything is oh-so-slightly fuzzed about the edges, a very mild blending of outlines.) While he may not know what every expression means or what could be leading to it, be can certainly pick up on that bit of hesitance and thought.

Clearly Prompto is wanting to carefully consider his words.

But he's not left wondering as to <>i>why for very long, with the other man's brief explanation. It makes no logical sense, of course- that Prompto could be from a farther point in time, and yet appeared here before him--

Unless he was sedated and kept by their hosts for far longer than he'd imagined. The idea makes him mildly queasy.]

...Roughly a month after we'd concluded business in Altissia. [He speaks as though to confirm, but really, he's mostly just thinking out loud. The fact that Prompto is sparse on the details doesn't go unnoticed, either. They'd been going to ALtissia to meet with the Oracle and gain the favour of Leviathan-- and then left for Gralea via Tenebrae? Still lacking half of the Astral's support? And they'd not even made it to Tenebrae after an entire month?

And then Lady Lunafreya herself- had they met paths and journeyed with her? It would certainly be of great help to them, though also condense the empires targets to a single group.

As always, he has so many questions, and has to keep himself from launching into them one after another.]

I presume we're heading to Niflheim for the Crystal, then?

[mercurio]

Yup. Get the Crystal, head on home.

[at least that was the plan. he doesn't know what the plan was like, after the train got attacked.]

[he doesn't know what anything was like. how many days passed, how long he had wandered the glacial tundra of niflheim before getting spotted by the enemy. it feels like a faint dream at this point, but it's a memory that keeps getting revived over and over again in his most recent nightmares.]

[as usual, prompto has no idea of the gears turning in ignis's head reaching the right conclusions.]

But! It's nothing you should worry about for now.

[cheffeur]

[He frowns, looking down in thought. That had been the initial plan. Get the crystal, return to Insomnia. Coronate Noctis.... and then what?

They were still at war. Niflheim still occupied Insomnia and various old forts in the provincial countryside. A messanger of the Astrals had still tasked Noctis to gain the favour of the Astrals for reasons he still didn't quite understand. And just the four of them (perhaps five, with Lunafreya?) making their way into the capital of the empire? Managing to get through all defenses, recover the crystal, and somehow transfer it back to Insomnia?

(Their goals had never been well planned out, and it's always eaten at him. But they'd never been able to plan more than one step at a time, never had the luxury.)

He shakes his head at the idea that he shouldn't worry about it.]

Was our progression hindered? I'd assumed if we merely moved from goal to goal, it would take much less than a month to make it to Tenebrae. Altissia to the coast of Niflhiem is... what, a day or two by ship?

[Always questions.]

[mercurio]

[talking to ignis was a mistake. prompto already feels tongue-tied, and he hasn't even started saying anything in response to the questions. mostly because he wants to just tell everything to the adviser so that it becomes his problem instead and he deals with it however best he sees fit. prompto is really not capable of handling this at all, and it shows in how Fidgeting Intensifies as does his aversion towards eye contact.]

Well, you know Noct. Always gotta be fishing, gotta be cashing on some hunts...

[it sounds like such a lame excuse, but there's really nothing to actually mask how altissia had been a wreck and how the oracle's death became a real low point for all of them. not to mention, ignis's adjusting to his disability (that's what it was, until he proved them wrong) and noctis's recovery.]

Could we -- talk about that later?

[nose scrunching, he looks up, finally.]

It feels like I haven't seen you in ages.

[prompto missed ignis, too, even if the sentiment would likely not be understood by the other.]

[cheffeur]

[The constant motions Prompto gives intensify, and he glances away and down- and while Ignis can occasionally have trouble discerning peoples feelings or intentions from their behavior or words, it's clearly avoidant, and he's torn between doubling down on pressure to suss out what the man is hiding (it's the information-hungry part of him-) and backing off to allow the man space to recover and stabilize.

And the excuse he gives is viable- but when compared with his more withdrawn pose and fidgety posture, it just makes that curiosity spark harder and flare higher.

It's almost all of his thinly-worn self control to nod and accept the clear omissions. But it's done our of respect to Prompto's discomfort-- and perhaps to avoid any further headaches on his own part.]

Very well. How long have you been here?

[Ignis is still thinking of time linearly- after all, it's still early in his appearance here, in thinking about the concept of multiverses and timelines. There's at least a month between himself and Prompto- and then whatever amount of time Prompto had spent here?

He brings a gloved hand up to rest lightly on prompto's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.]

I'd say I miss you also, but to me it feels like just a few days, if even that. [A pause, and he frowns slightly.] It's-- hard to discern just how much time it's been since I awoke here.

[mercurio]

A few weeks, maybe? It hasn't been that long. I got here August 5th. It's the 24th right now.

[because he knows ignis likes things as detailed out as possible, and this much information is something prompto can provide with, in any case. he's got his head down, eyes pointedly fixed on his hands as he fidgets with his fingers--a constant back and forth of cracking knuckles and squeezing fingers together.]

[it's at the squeeze on his shoulder that prompto raises his head, slow and unsure for a moment, but looking somewhat -- touched by the gesture.]

Do-don't reckon the drugs help much. Or the place you guys were dropped off at. [noctis did inform prompto that ignis had other stuff, and he can only imagine what that other stuff was, given the party they had been at.] But you arrived last night. It's close to eleven in the morning right now.

[he takes a deep breath, an exaggerated action.]

Do you ... wanna check the kitchen out? I could bring you something to eat, too.