[ One moment, they walk through the brush, approaching the outpost that oppressive feeling in the air, that innate...wrongness. The next, they are in a small apartment. The air is warm, thick and humid, and it's dark inside. Perhaps the wee hours of the morning or the late night - certainly not the early afternoon that it was just seconds ago. It seems that Prompto and Alphinaud have stepped into some small living space in Wyver, hardly lived in, though there are dirty dishes and food containers scattered about. It's quiet, so very quiet, except for the sound of running water in the kitchen, and then -
The sudden sound of sharp, violent coughing from the bedroom beyond.
...It takes Prompto only a moment, then. To realize where they are, and when. They have stepped into a place that is not only a memory, but also a nightmare.
He goes stiff, pale even in the darkness, watching himself rush from the kitchen into the dark bedroom in a panic. Dimly, he is aware Alphinaud is still with him, and while he can't begin to understand what's happening or if this is even real, he manages to stammer between shallow breaths: ]
D-don't. Don't go in there.
[ He doesn't need to see it. Alisaie sick with the plague, coughing up blood all over her hands, her nightdress, the sheets. He doesn't need to see any of it. ]
➟ alphinaud.
The sudden sound of sharp, violent coughing from the bedroom beyond.
...It takes Prompto only a moment, then. To realize where they are, and when. They have stepped into a place that is not only a memory, but also a nightmare.
He goes stiff, pale even in the darkness, watching himself rush from the kitchen into the dark bedroom in a panic. Dimly, he is aware Alphinaud is still with him, and while he can't begin to understand what's happening or if this is even real, he manages to stammer between shallow breaths: ]
D-don't. Don't go in there.
[ He doesn't need to see it. Alisaie sick with the plague, coughing up blood all over her hands, her nightdress, the sheets. He doesn't need to see any of it. ]