![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
[ OPEN ] ❝ and i don't want to talk about the world ❞
Who: Prompto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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.
II. CHASING CRIMINALS.
III. TENDING THE ILL.
IV. WILDCARD.
punshots) & YOUWhat: 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 atretroscape for plotting! ]
no subject
Boy, he's real glad he's unarmed now.
So, he'll do what he does best: talk.
Hands up in front of him, making it clear he's not reaching for anything concealed on his person, he takes a tentative spot towards the woman. Victarion will probably recognize this tactic. ]
We're not here to hurt you. We just want to talk.
no subject
For what you have done, you will die. Speak to your crimes and it will be quick and merciful.
[He advanced with his axe brandishes, the sharp edge gleaming in the sunlight so that the ruby eye of the engraved kraken head strikes a menacing glow. The woman chooses what looks to be the easiest route- and darts to the right and over the streets. It makes for one hell of a jump, provided she makes it.]
no subject
[ Can this guy just try to not kill someone for five minutes?! It's almost frustrating enough for Prompto to completely turn his attention away from the woman, because she won't be able to tell them anything if she's dead. But he's clearly made himself out to be the softhearted one in this equation, and she shoves his shoulder as she zips between them to jump.
Which is rude, and adds an extra second to the time it takes him to wind up and jump after her. Good thing he's a JRPG character. It's actually pretty easy for him to make.
How about you, Victarion... ]
no subject
Victarion curses when he sees Prompto fail to slow her down and he too breaks out into the run after them. He is not so quick to jump after the two and watches in surprise as the woman sticks her landing, followed by Prompto. In contrast, he hesitates because this is new for him. He'd jumped distances like this before, when ships raged next to one another in the heat of battle. No, perhaps not quite this wide, but he did so in plated armor where failing to land was just as deadly as falling to the ground. But he'd never feared drowning, because that was where the Drowned God would accept him. This was different. And he was not quite so heavy.
But he was also stronger. He felt stronger. So hesitation washes away so he takes his axe and thrusts it forward. It embeds itself into brick less than a foot away from where Prompto landed. Then Victarion follows, trusting in the strength the Natha blessed him with.
It's... not quite enough. He collides into the side of the building, grasping the edge with his hands and elbows as the brunt of the hit takes him in the chest. He exhales a labored breath and scrambles up after.]
no subject
He's not about to slow - until Victarion doesn't quite make it, and he only has a split second to make a choice. So he goes with his gut, for however little love he might have for the man, a fall from this height could very well kill him, and that's the worse thing here.
Skidding to a stop, Prompto doubles back, grabs Victarion to help him up - even if his strength, in reality, lends little - and doesn't dash off after the woman again until he's sure the man has his bearings on the rooftop. ]
no subject
Fool, go after her! She cannot escape!
[He's a big man, but he has the strength to carry that weight. Once he's on his feet again, he plucks his axe from stone and glares at his temporary companion.]
If she escapes, I'll finish what I began with you.
no subject
And he does bolt, bolstered on by Victarion's latest threat against his life, and he's gaining on the woman again. She seems to be wearing down, and the gap to the next building is much too far for her to jump. She skids to a stop. ]
Ohhhhh-kay. Let's - l-let's just - try this again.
[ Once more with feeling. ]
no subject
You, woman. The poisoned air has tainted my niece and will be the death of her. I would know why.
[His axe is held in front of him, his hands holding onto it so tight that it looks like they might well squeeze through the handle. Victarion was filled with rage, having already accepted the futility of any chance at saving those who were infected. When you seen sickness strike like the bomb had, you learned to anticipate death.]
no subject
Before he can interject, the woman shakes her head violently and yells I'll never spill to the likes of you! and then she's darting towards Victarion like a rocket with only a thief's knife to her name. She's awfully quick - too quick for Prompto to react in time and stop her from this charge that could very well be her last. ]
Wait, don't -- !
no subject
He raises his burned hand, letting the knife strike the blackened flesh. The blade wedges itself between cracked skin, but her strength isn't enough to bury it inside. In her moment of shock, Victarion swings his axe.
The blunt side catches her on the head, sending her sprawling to the ground with a bloodied skull. She's breathing but drifting.]
Answer me, woman! Damn you!
[He kneels down next to the woman and grabs a fistful of hair.]
no subject
Stop! She can't tell us anything if she's - if she's -
[ He feels paralyzed, rooted to the spot by indecision, because he's not about to intercede on the behalf of this woman who was apart of all this...this madness that has blighted the city, especially when unarmed. But to stand by and watch her die - no, to watch Victarion kill again - is unthinkable.
But just as his knees unlock and he springs towards them, entirely undecided on what action to take, the woman rolls a sneer up towards Victarion, blood trailing down her features, and hisses Did I stutter? before she turns her blade on herself, plunging it deep into her throat.
The smell of blood is immediately upon the air, and Prompto, eyes wide with horror, skids to a stop. He covers his mouth with one hand and turns away, eyes shut tight. ]
Wh-wh - what the h-hell - h-how could she -
[ There's something sticky on his boots, he realizes distantly, as he staggers backwards. ]
no subject
He gets to his feet, dragging the now limp woman by the hair still tangled in his fist. He sneers at the remains of her before casting her aside.]
May she find peace with whatever gods will take her. [He would commit her to his own god, for she deserved that much at least, but they are too far from the ocean for that.] Damn her.
no subject
It's nothing short of horrible, and Prompto swallows thickly to keep himself from being sick, the back of his hand pressed hard against his mouth. The Six receive her...or whatever happened here after death. ]
Sh-she - this is so - [ no, he can't freak out now, like this, with Victarion right there. He's got to keep it together.
After a shuddering breath: ]
There are more of them in the city.
no subject
[Victarion gives the woman a passing glance, then back to Prompto. Seeing death like this has little effect on him.]
I will let you deal with her remains. But next time, I will settle the debt I owe you.
[He takes the gun he had pocketed and tosses it aside so that it falls off the building and into the alleyway below.]
no subject
[ ...Sounds like fun. What the hell is he even going to do? Gods, just looking at her makes his heart lurch, but Victarion is right. He can't just leave her there. Even this woman deserves better than that.
His stomach curdles as Victarion leaves him with that fresh reminder of what he'd so narrowly escaped from in this encounter. Maybe he's lucky he's not in the shame shape as that woman, and he says nothing as he watches his gun fall down to the alleyway. Perhaps he should be grateful he'll be able to get it back at all, but right now, he's not feeling particularly grateful for anything.
...What a mess. ]