meadowlarklogs | ( january catch-all )

[at least talking with gaby is easy. even when she's silently scoping the place out as is her way of doing things and despite the fact that prompto is just a non-stop talker, their conversation is amicable enough. it's comfortable, for what it's worth, and for prompto who has always been so self-conscious about what others may think of him finds this a nice change of pace.]

[he smiles right back.]

Yeah? Man, that's pretty sweet that you've got a friend here even if the circumstances could be better.

[he really doesn't think he could have acclimated as well as he has had it not been for noctis being around.]

Doubt they're as muscular as Gladio though. [a rather soft hm comes after his words, as if he's proud of someone else's ... pecs.] Guy's a mountain. [turns out, prompto's a bit homesick.] What's their name, by the way?

[ For a moment, she thinks she may have been too distracted and missed being able to hold up her end of the conversation, but when he responds to her smile with one of his own it's reassuring, and Gaby makes a mental note to try and direct most of her attention back here rather than running the risk of becoming too preoccupied with everything else around them.

She won't correct him on the friend label, but it's true that she does have someone here from home, and a familiar face has been more of a comfort than not.

Although whoever this Gladio is, she suspects Illya's build could certainly prove a worthy competitor. ] His name is Illya. He's Russian. Very tall. Doesn't talk much. [ Maybe Prompto had noticed a big man basically glowering at everyone and everything when they first arrived to the safehouse; he's pretty hard to miss, especially when standing next to Gaby herself. ] Perhaps you encountered him already?

Russian? He's always -- rushin'? Gotta go fast...?

[color him confused for a moment, because russian doesn't sound like anything familiar to him. he stops to glance at a stand that's selling cricket eggs--because although he finds it revolting, he's still pretty curious about it.]

[a few of them seem to wiggle and he makes a face and a sound. he's definitely not a fan.]

Don't think I've met him, though. Properly, anyway. There's a lot of people who like to not talk very much.

[he bumps at her arm a little with his elbow]

Maybe I'll run into him some day. There's a lot more people here than I've met, apparently. From our situation. Y'know.

[ Cue her own very visibly confused expression, because that isn't anywhere close to what she intended to say, but then the realization that her description of Illya sounds very much like another word hits her and she smiles, teeth dragging across her lower lip as she ducks her head. ]

No, he is — he's from a country called Russia, where I'm from. We refer to the people who were born there as Russians, whereas they refer to me as German, because I was born somewhere called Germany. [ It's very possible neither of these are ringing any bells for him, but maybe the explanation will help clear up some of the confusion. And she'll gently sway outward with the nudge of his arm before drifting back into the same space. ]

Have you heard anything about many of them there are? Specifically? [ She doesn't know why it would help to know an exact number, but she knows there have at least been several groups that have been brought here in occasional intervals — Illya was a part of one, as was Clarke, as was Daisy. ] From our situation.

Oh, I get it! Like Lucian if you're from Lucis and Niff if you're from Niflheim, back home.

[there's a term for that, but he wasn't one to pay a lot of attention in language class. the names do not ring a name, ultimately, but prompto pins 'germany' and 'russia' into his mental interface as a note to self to check it out later.]

[he's gotta learn these earth terms one way or another.]

And the cake we're going to make is Ger--man, yes? [he hesitated, trying out the word.] Though I think it's a bit more than thirty? Give or take. There's never any real pattern to how many people arrive as far as I know.

[ Neither of those terms ring a bell to her, personally, but they do seem to be in line with what she was trying to explain and so Gaby nods once, encouragingly. ]

Yes. [ And his follow-up, sounding out the name she'd provided for him, earns him another smile. ] My mother — [ Foster mother, technically, but closer to a real mother than anything she'd ever known. ] — used to make it for me when I was little.

[ It's not a sizable group, but considering that more and more have been brought in each time they could see it grow further, provided no one else unexpectedly disappears. She's seen that happen, found posts on the network of people inquiring after friends who have suddenly vanished. ] No. And there doesn't seem to be a pattern for how many of them leave, either.

I'd say we're a little over a large class size, at most.

[he adds, putting a hand on his waist and looking into the bag as he shifts it upwards a bit with his other arm.]

It's still hard to keep track of everyone. I get the feeling some people mind their own business.

[...but he's glad that he and gaby keep in touch, no matter how minimal the contact is.]

--will it be a good memory? [he wonders aloud (the cake)]

You're right about that.

[ Most people do keep to themselves; she gets the feeling that were it not for the need to procure more information on their whereabouts, Illya would be among them.

But favoring reclusiveness over any kind of collaborative effort feels counterproductive in so many ways, and beyond that — well, she likes the company, too. ]

I remember liking the cake. [ A small smile; it's more of a joke, considering that she doesn't harbor any poor feelings about the people who raised her. ]

Sounds like a selling point to me.

[prompto assents, smiling as he catches on to how it's a bit of a joke.]

I remember trying to bake cake at times. I'm an only child, right, so the best part was that I got to pick whatever flavor I wanted. Total chaos, but the end results made it all worth it.

[cakes are good enough of a memory.] --box mix, though. Don't think me a pro! [hehe] Do we got everything?

It should be. Hopefully it tastes as good as I remember it.

[ Or her memory hasn't failed her in trying to recreate it; the last thing she wants is to have built up this picture in her mind of what said cake is supposed to look and taste like, only to have it disappoint on both counts. Still, this is giving her something to do when the alternative of being overwhelmed by everything feels less and less appealing by the day. ]

What flavor did you pick? [ She doesn't know why she's focusing in on that detail in particular above all the others he'd shared with her, but her curiosity is earning the better of her even before she leans forward to glance through the bag he's holding, trying to determine if they have everything they need. ]

I'm sure it'll be delicious even if it isn't exactly how you remember it. [can't go wrong with cake. he perks up at the question, hums for a moment as if in thought, and then:] Chocolate!

That's the one everyone picks, right? It's either that or vanilla.

[having tilted the bag down a bit for her to look through their loot, he keeps on.]

I was so bad 'bout it though. I think I ate through a whole cake in one day once. Felt so sick after I decided never to do that again.

Oh, chocolate always. [ Is it predictable, the German preferring the chocolate option? Maybe, or maybe she can't remember the last time she had a piece of chocolate cake, rich and moist, and is her mouth watering slightly? They're going to have to start baking very soon.

She lets the bag close, gives him a quick nod to signal that they're all set. ]

I can't believe that didn't turn you away from eating cake for good. [ Even the thought of it is enough to make her stomach lurch. ]

[signal received, prompto hikes up the bag in front of himself making sure it won't fall over or anything. it's time to make it back to the kitchens in the safehouse and get their greatest german bake off going.]

I knew you'd agree on the chocolate. --though, yeah, same. I had shitty habits. No one to really make sure I wasn't eating my weight in cake. In that respect, it was a child's dream!

Tell me you've never wanted to do that?

No, we didn't — we didn't have enough around at the time, for me to be able to do that. [ Enough food for her to be able to bake a cake and then eat it all in one sitting, that is; she turns reflective, for a moment, thinking about the Schmidts. Fine people considering, and they'd given her some sense of family where her own couldn't, but it had been a meager life with little excess.

Perhaps that's why she balks at so much of it now, the world her partners tended to inhabit: opulent and fashionable and only the best. (Well, perhaps Solo moreso than Illya, all things considered.) ]

... you're not planning on eating this entire cake in one sitting, are you?

[war had always been a constant ever since prompto was born--he was "born" right in the middle of it, as it were. still, living under the nacreous shine of the wall that protected them all from daemons and any kind of filter from the war. it was nothing but a far off murmur, while they lived in relative wealth and with sufficient produce as to not have to count their portions or consider what they did or didn't have.]

[he doesn't know whether this is or isn't gaby's situation--they could just have been poor, but it puts things in perspective for prompto in a very big way.]

[suddenly, he feels embarrassment at his admission of eating a whole cake by himself. his reaction is very lively, moving his arms around in defense--or protest? one of the two.]

I-I'm not gonna do that! I was just a stupid kid with zero parental attention to really know what I could or couldn't do! Aw, geez, I must seem real stupid just saying I was eating a whole cake like that...

Promise it was a one time thing and it was cuz I didn't know any better. You gotsa believe me, 'kay?

[ She doesn't know why, but the sudden vehemence of his gesturing, as well as his animated insistence, conjures another smile from her, maybe in spite of her own distant thinking, and she may be shaking her head before she answers but it's something tinged with fondness rather than a dismissal. ]

I believe you.

[ She reaches for one of his arms to bring it down to hers, gently linking them together. ] You're encouraged to have one piece, at least, so I know if I've remembered it right.

[the gesture of their arms linked together has prompto scrambling momentarily for his breath. he's not used to -- physical contact outside of his brothers--his friends--and even then it isn't as casual and friendly, born out of teasing and jabs.]

[it makes his fondness... grow.]

[the smile on his face appears and is reluctant to fade from sight.]

I'm okay with that. Who gets to eat the leftover batter from the whisk, though?

[he's that type of chef]

[ There are times she acts without thinking, reaching out to touch someone because it seems like the thing to do, but the brief interruption of his breathing doesn't escape her notice and for a moment Gaby stills, wondering if she's inadvertently crossed some boundary she hadn't intended on overstepping.

But then he smiles, and that worried tension in her chest eases; she even ducks her head slightly, to hide the full width of her own grin. ]

Doesn't that make you sick?

[ She has no way of knowing for sure, but it's what she'd always been told. Introduce Gaby to the values of raw dough, Prompto? ]

[prompto is grinning at her oh so innocent question.]

Seriously? You've never had it. You've never actually had leftover batter.

[he is more than happy to introduce her to the follies of irresponsible but delicious food making habits.]

All the more reason for us to start baking right now.

[he picks up the pace, making for the safehouse.]

( january catch-all )

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