nysalogs | [ OPEN ] ❝ and i don't want to talk about the world ❞

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[ OPEN ] ❝ and i don't want to talk about the world ❞

Who: Prompto (

punshots) & YOU
What: October catchall, with open prompts for part 1 of the event!
When: Right the heck now!
Where: Around Olympia
Warning(s): sad boy...but none probably?!

I. MARKET DISTRICT.

[ He's there when the bomb goes off.

Not within range to be affected by it, but as a member of the royal guard, Prompto's very assignment is to patrol the market district. Facing down Victarion after he'd killed a man there the week previous had been harrowing enough, given him too much to think about, too many questions to ask about himself and what he was even doing in the guard in the first place. This latest attack is nothing short of a slap across the face.

Not that he lingers on how it makes him feel - he hardly dwells on it. As always, he's feelings are shuffled neatly aside, even when reaching out to his friends - his brothers - to make sure they're okay in the aftermath, only to find his messages rebounding. Noctis, Ingis, and Gladio - all three, in stasis once more.

He's not equipped to deal with this devastation right now, so he doesn't. He bottles it up, sets his jaw, and goes to work. This bomb went off on his watch, so...he has to find the people responsible, right? Of course he does. It's what...Noct would have done.

So he'll be doing the following:

A. Assisting with clean-up. The bomb has made a terrible mess of things, and these merchants in the market district are people he knows well by now. He knows their names, their families, their hopes and dreams, and something like this is nothing short of devastating for many of them. He can't replace what was infected, but he can at least help clear away what's no longer fit to sell.

He approaches with a hefty (just the adjective, not the brand, Hefty TM Reynolds Consumer Products, Inc.) trash bag that's already pretty swollen with infected goods, wearing gloves and a respirator provided by the Institute. For acting as a literal garbage man, he looks pretty chipper. ]

What's the word? [ He gestures to whatever goods they're sorting through. ] Think they'll pass biohazard infection?

[ Isn't this fun? He's having the time of his life. He's fine!

B. Investigating the area. The crime scene itself is the obvious place to start looking for clues to track down the persons responsible for the attack. Word spreads quickly through the guard that they're looking for individuals tattooed with an "M" on their wrists, so he'll address anyone still lingering nearby, looking over his shoulder and hiding his mouth with his hand - he's very...stealthy... ]

Hey...sorry to bug, but - did you happen to see anyone leaving this area around bomb o'clock today?

[ Yep. Still fine! ]

II. CHASING CRIMINALS.

[ Evidently, his investigating does turn up some promising leads, and Prompto is hot on the heels of one of those suspected associates, which he tipped off with his presence far too early and gave the woman a generous headstart. He's pursuing on foot, leaping between vehicles and over stalls - sometimes more gracefully than others - and if he weren't caught up in this, if this weren't so personal for him, he'd probably take a moment to appreciate the fact that he might kind of look like a badass right now.

But he doesn't allow himself that much, and he pursues the suspect to a tall, threadbare building that looks like it might collapse with a single gust of wind. The woman starts to scale it, and, okay, that looks pretty cool, too, but he's come this far. He's not about to lose her trail now.

So he grabs the closest person, frantic as he turns them to face him: ] How good are you at climbing?

[ And then adds, a moment later after glancing between the building and whoever he's grabbed: ] I'm super sorry about this!

III. TENDING THE ILL.

[ If you didn't know any better, you might think Prompto some sort of crazed, overly-enthusiastic delivery man the way he carts around the city on a bike with a basket filled with soup containers. Where did he get a bike? He probably let a kid hold his gun so he could borrow it for the day. It's not important.

Anyway, that's just what he's doing, zipping across Olympia and ferrying the ambrosia of all illnesses, chicken noodle soup, to his friends - and hell, even one-time acquaintances - in need. He'd been quick to contact just about everyone he knows as the news of the sickness spread, to make sure they were okay, and depending on their response, he tabulated them for future reference. That future reference is now, and he's ringing doorbells, dropping off soup, and by and large wearing a much more genuine smile than he has for days.

It's...hard not to, when he's helping people, even if they might not really need his help.

He can also be caught in between stops, catching a breather on lesser-traveled corners, pulling out his camera to flip back through his photos. He has to go back a considerable way before he reaches his pictures from Eos now, a fact which is so bittersweet it has his eyes glassy, but he grins reflexively at the smiling faces that greet him on the little screen.

With a quiet sigh, he murmurs: ] Hang in there, guys...

IV. WILDCARD.

[ Have something else in mind? Hit me up! I can also be reached on Plurk at retroscape for plotting! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She's seen the blond blur zipping up and down in front of the Institute a fair few times now, but though she recognizes the boy from the fight club, she doesn't call out to him. She's too busy working on a few things of her own, things relating to the illness - but even scientists need a break. Heading out for a cigarette, she nods in greeting as he dismounts his bicycle and catches his breath.]

Mr. Argentum. Keeping busy?

[ He's in the middle of a catlike-stretch when she calls out to him, movement sorta half-stumbled, half-whirled in her direction. He manages to turn one arm into a wave in a stunning move of I-totally-meant-to-do-that, a sheepish grin erupting on his face. It's a genuine one, at least, at seeing Rosalind again, and those have been a bit harder to find in recent days. ]

Miss Lutece! Busy as always! Maybe a little too busy, hah. [ The is a gross understatement. He's worn himself ragged, but the only tells are the generous bags beneath his eyes. ]

Man, I'm glad to see you're not sick, too.

[ And if she's at the Institute...that probably meant she was working on the cure. ]

Madam Lutece.

[But given the awkward little stumble and falter, she can forgive him that slip. Rosalind busies herself with lighting her cigarette, though her gaze doesn't leave him.]

But the sentiment is returned, I assure you. What is it you're up to, hm?

R-right! Madam. [ Though his greeting may have been more informal, at least he hasn't turned her name into some sort of (terrible) nickname, so, small miracles. ]

Oh, you know... [ He gives the bike's handlebar a gentle pat. ] Fighting biological warfare with mankind's best weapon: chicken noodle soup!

[ Or, at least, mankind's best comfort food. He's not so naive to think that alone will make anyone better, unlike what she might be doing. ]

How about you?

Good grief . . .

[It's amused and a little disbelieving all at once. Setting her cigarette between her lips, she steps forward, approaching the bike-- but oh, he really is delivering soup. That's charming, if not utterly impractical.]

Working on a cure, in theory. It's a bit more slowgoing than it sounds.

[ Charming but impractical is pretty typical for him. It may not make a huge difference over all, but it's brought a few smiles to faces that would have otherwise remained dim, so...that alone makes it worth it. ]

Really? [ He's eager for a cure, as so many of them are, but he hasn't heard much news on that front. ] I-it's - just a matter of time. You'll figure it out.

[ A beat. ]

Is there anything I can do to help?

I don't suppose you're so willing to hop-to that you'd infect yourself and let me experiment with cures, would you?

[That's a joke? Kind of?]

[ Whether or not it's a joke, he answers: ]

I-I am so willing! Just call me your cure-all taste-tester!

Good lord, Mr. Argentum. That generous attitude is going to get you in trouble sometime soon, do you realize that?

You say that like it doesn't already get me into trouble all the time!

[ ...Well, at least he knows it. ]

Then why on earth do you keep doing it?

[Honestly, she really does not understand. But it's a real question, and not a nasty one; her gaze is interested (if not a little incredulous).]

[ Boy, if that isn't a loaded question. Prompto visibly hesitates, his expression darting to the Institute doors behind her - but he knows how that looks, too, and the last thing he wants is to appear suspicious. Particularly right now, when all of them are so...

Well. Like this. ]

I-I - dunno. Guess that's just...always been my style. Nine times out of ten, it doesn't wind up biting me in the ass!

[ But, yeah, there's still that one time. ]

So...if you need an able-bodied volunteer...I'm currently, uh, able-bodied.

You need to learn to say no, Mr. Argentum.

[SHE'S GETTING WORRIED ABOUT YOU, BUDDY. But soon she shakes her head and adds:]

No, I don't need a volunteer-- yet, anyway, though I appreciate your enthusiasm. Frankly, I'd appreciate nothing more than a bit of conversation right now.

Edited 2017-10-09 04:48 (UTC)

[ She's not wrong. He's a Yes Man in the worst way, because for all the good-natured bellyaching he might exhibit when tasked with something he's not particularly thrilled about, he always comes through. For better or for worse. ]

I-I can offer that, too, then! Leave it to me, sir chats-a-lot. [ Even if he's...not quite up to snuff. Not up to his usual cheer, his usual fount of energetic buoyancy, though from the way he's swaying, shifting his weight repeatedly, that might seem surprising. ]

So, uh...aside from the whole, you know - [ he just...gestures...to everything ] - current sitch, you...settling in okay? How're you findin' the Institute?

It's certainly different than what I'm used to. Far more advanced technology, to begin with, and god knows they're not lacking in funding. And--

[A beat. A strange sort of smile crosses her lips, and she adds:]

I've never had female coworkers before.

Whoa - seriously?

[ Huh. It's hard to imagine. If anything, back on Eos, science was dominated by women, especially in places like Lestallum, where their energy plant was run almost exclusively by them. What reason would anyone have for excluding them?

- But of course, it's not really that hard to guess at. People...you know. Make a lot of assumptions they maybe shouldn't. ]

- Sorry. That just kind of - [ a flourish of his hand ] - boggles! Was that...not the case back home for you?

[ He doesn't want to pry, but she did bring it up, so...it's probably okay to ask about. ]

[It's not that he's asking something he oughtn't. The question is innocuous enough, and she'd certainly invited the topic. But still Rosalind stares for just a moment, honestly taken aback by it, because it's so wildly different from what she knows.

Was that not the case back home? he asks, like it's a little unthinkable. Like he's so used to women in the sciences. It's just the same as the natives here; she'd murmured something along the same lines and received the oddest look in return, and god, but it's a thrilling feeling.

It's a little grief-inducing too, oddly enough, but she keeps that to herself.]

It wasn't seen as a particularly feminine career choice. Women weren't encouraged to chase after it.

[That's a laugh. She'd had to fight tooth and nail to stay in her career, and even then,
it'd been a hard-won thing. Madam Lutece, never doctor, never doctor, she'd been so upset all those years ago--]

You can imagine my pleasure at the change here.

[ His brow furrows at her response, plainly perplexed. It is a bit unthinkable, but it's her reality, so he's not going to make her feel, you know, weird about it. No matter how surprising it might be to him.

So his flummoxed expression melts into a soft laugh. ]

Actually? I don't know if I can imagine that, dude. [ Uh. ] I mean - madam. This has gotta be one hell of a pleasant surprise.

[ It begs the question what women were encouraged to chase after, but he's trying not to be nosy. Trying! ]

Y'know, most of the people I know who work here are women.

[ Which is like...two out of three people, but that's still 'most'! ]

[Dude . . .]

Is that so? Any names I might recognize?

[ It's how he shows affection. ]

Wellllll, aside from you, there's Alisaie Leveilleur? [ There's unmistakable fondness pooling in how he says her name, but in case his astounding subtlety doesn't make it clear: ] She's - my girlfriend. Then there's my good pal, Jade Harley. Dog ears? Can't miss her.

[ And then there's Merlin, but Merlin's a dude? And severing lacking in appreciation of RPGs, so he doesn't need to go mentioned now. ]

[She tips her head with an amused smile at his clarification. He might tip into irritating if he went on and on about her, but as it is, his obvious adoration is sweet.]

I've spoken to Miss Harley a few times before, though I've yet to ask the story behind her ears. Are they functional, do you know?

[ Oh, give him time, he'll prove himself irritating soon enough. ]

- You know? I never asked! But they do the whole - [ hang on, he's got to visually demonstrate this with a pointed finger on either side of his head, like ears perked up ] - pointy thing when she gets excited about something.

She also tinified me once.

[ ...He's still holding his fingers to the sides of his head. ]

[Um.]

She did what to you?

Tinified!

[ He moves his hands now because this requires more visual aids, and Prompto holds his index fingers and thumbs about two inches apart. ]

Like so. We, uh - had to go inside a tree to get my camera. Long story.

One you'll be telling me, I should hope. How on earth did she manage it?

III

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