( january catch-all )

[mercurio]

WHO: prompto & various
WHERE: throughout new amsterdam
WHEN: the month of january (ic: september)
WHAT: a bunch of random slice of life scenarios...
NOTES OR WARNINGS: PG ? (will update as necessary!)

Comments

[mercurio]

For what it's worth, [prompto starts, a small laugh on his lips] even with your injuries, you're the coolest and most collected guy ever. If it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have defeated this stinky Malboro and gotten to the last tomb.

[you're the best, iggy, is what he wants to say, but fails to. it feels like a cheap bandaid.]

[and then his breathing thickens a bit, wet and sniffly.]

I wanted things to be like... back then. I miss home.

[not eos, not lucis. insomnia.]

[cheffeur]

[There's a small flicker of an attempted smile at Prompto's praise. And with that, he simply shrugs.] Well. From what I've read, Malboros are vicious, but ultimately still plant-based. They burn easily enough. I wouldn't call that much of an impressive feat.

[...Except for how, unbeknownst to him, they had never told him it was a Marlboro.]

[He looks up at that show of emotional vulnerability, shoulders slackening slightly at it. It's something none of them say often enough, and all of them feel.]

...I do too. Every day. [Carefully, he'll reach out to place a hand on Prompto's shoulder. After all, he seems to respond to contact more than anything else.] There's no shame in longing for more halcyon times.

[mercurio]

[the hand on his shoulder seems to do it, prompto's breath hitching, throat growing tighter, eyes watering beyond his control. mostly, however, it's ignis's own admittance that he, too, misses it. there's an ache in his chest that seems so incredible it will never stop. he puts a hand to his eyes--as if trying to hide the fact that he's crying (the shake of his shoulders, the distressed, soft sounds).]

[there's no shame in it, ignis encourages, tries to soften the want for such a time.]

[but it still hurts so incredibly much.]

[to talk about home, to reminisce about home... it's not fun anymore. it's not nostalgic nor is it filled with the anticipation of going back, of existing in a time where their responsibilities weren't such a high stake.]

I miss Gladio. [he chokes out] I miss... camping, and my camera, and- [his voice runs out, and he breathes in--breathes out.] I hated being alone in Niflheim. I wanted to meet Lady Lunafreya-

[now both hands rush to his face, to hide behind them. he's a simpler guy than most, hoping to have existed unattached to war and everything about it, but finding his connection to it so, so cruel.]

I miss Noct.

[how he isn't around much anymore, and prompto can't help but feel dread at the thought--it's something he said, or didn't say, or that noctis is dealing with some stuff all on his own. it's hard.]

only 2 weeks later.... im gomen.....

[cheffeur]

[As usual, Prompto unabashedly says the things they all feel and just don't know how to put words to. He's always been so much more organic about what he feels and why, fearlessly stating it to get the emotions out in the open. And it's so simple and true. There's that lack of stability that Gladio brings, his easygoing nature shoving them all in a direction. There's no unwinding by a campfire, taking what solace they can and setting aside worries fore the next day. As hard as it was, things were remarkably simple on the road: Keep going.

And then Prompto's experiences in Niflhiem, their loss of the Oracle before ever being able to make contact, Noct's distance from them--

With a soft exhale, he stands just enough to move the chair closer to Prompto's side, before sitting again and letting an arm drape around the smaller man's back and shoulders. He doesn't have any solutions: there's no solutions to be had for things that had already occurred, for things that gnawed at Prompto's psyche due to his remembrances, dredged up via the nightmares. But at least there could be a modicum of comfort offered.]

...It's cruel. [A simple statement, but one that's true. They'd fought so hard and so earnestly, only to be rewarded with-- everything. Everything Prompto had gone through, that Ignis was still struggling to wrap his mind around.]

Having to keep everything inside, feeling as though you can't be honest-- It would wear away at anyone, Prompto.

[A pause, and he attempts the hint of a smile.] ...But for what it's worth, I'm sure Gladio would just tell us to grow some balls and keep going for Noctis's sake. So that we're put together when he comes back.