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

[punshots]

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! ]

Comments

[daemonized]

[Prompto shall never find out about his own soup shuffling adventures. Never.]

Do you really think that soup will be the salve that ends the sickness of all these people? Or do you merely feel better by believing you're being put to proper use?

[Is that judgment? Strangely, no, because it would have a much sharper edge to it if it was. But Ardyn definitely is seeing what Prompto is doing as a fruitless task.]

[punshots]

[ There's a sharp edge to those words that Prompto realizes a moment later is in his own head rather than attached to Ardyn's words. It wouldn't sting so much were it not a question Prompto has been asking himself plenty already. ]

Can't it just - you know, work with me a sec - just be trying to do something nice for people? [ Why does it have to be either extreme? And yet, writing it off as just that feels inadequate for the gravity of the situation as well.

Yet this has been a lot more fulfilling than most of the other tasks he's tried to apply himself to. So what does that say about him? ]

[daemonized]

[He's not surprised that he's gotten under Prompto's skin with that remark. But as per the usual, he doesn't seem to care. This should not at all be surprising to the young man by now, though the reaction does spark Ardyn to smile in that frustratingly patronizing way of his.]

No one does something nice just for the sake of it. Bleeding heart or not, there's always an underlying, personal reason. Whether it be to give yourself purpose, or to make yourself feel better about the unfortunate circumstances that surround you. Surely even you, optimistic as you try to be, cannot argue against that?

[Self-fulfillment is still a reason.]

[punshots]

[ That question leaves him silent for longer than it ought to, because Prompto has to concede to himself first that Ardyn is right. This isn't about him, but it still is, because otherwise, why would he care so much about whether or not he's putting his time to its best use?

An expression of mingled anger and surprise flashes across his features, but he looks away from the man, off to some undefined point where he can't see the memory of his friends so clearly. Why does it have to be Ardyn, of all people, who reminds him so easily of home, of what he's - they've - lost? ]

S-so - is there something wrong with that? [ So he's selfish. He's...always let himself be more selfish than he should. Especially lately. But is it wrong to want to be useful? To be more? ]

[daemonized]

[The silence lingers on his side as well. (This is often the state of their conversations, a back-and-forth, interspersed with silence while one considers the other. It’s enough to probably make a passerby side-eye them, honestly.)]

I suppose not.

[It would make him a hypocrite to say otherwise, even if that hypocrisy would only apply two thousand years ago. But of course a concession from Ardyn is always followed up with something less than comforting.]

As long as you realize that saving all of them will always be a futile endeavor.

[punshots]

[ Why is it always like this, with Ardyn? Why does he still let it get under his skin? He can see it coming a mile away, and yet it still stings, it's so frustrating, because Ardyn hardly even cares what he's saying and yet it affects Prompto so much. He can't stop it, and this time, it's one nudge too far over the line.

So he's on his feet, a white-hot anger flaring behind his eyes. He's so sick of this. He's so sick of Ardyn pointlessly picking on him out of some unfathomable obligation because of their shared past. He's so sick of being too afraid to stick up for himself that he holds back his words. He's so sick of lying awake at night, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well. It's dropped, and he's not going to take this lying down. This sort of reaction is probably exactly what Ardyn wants out of him, but he doesn't care anymore. Screw this. Screw all of this. ]

How can you say that? Can you just try - try, seriously - for just one second to remember what it's like to be human? I'll wait.

[ He's trembling. ]

[daemonized]

[The one time that Ardyn is not trying to play Prompto like a fiddle is the one time where the strings snap. The boy is on his feet, looking at him with a defiance he's never seen from him before. White hot anger and frustration rolls his way, and while Ardyn does not shudder from such a reaction, he also hadn't expected it to be so heated. Was Prompto so sensitive to think that he was purposefully trying to raise his hackles this time? He had merely spoken a fact of life (proven to himself thousands of years ago), and if it settled ill in the other, how exactly was that his fault?

Purposefully or not, he'd still normally take a small ounce of pleasure in Prompto's displeasure. But his words are patronizing, speaking on his (lack of) humanity, and once again.... if there's something that Ardyn hates the most, it's others presuming to know him.

He could make a more honest remark about how it was equally hard to forget what he was like before he became immortal, in the same way it was easy to remember. A substantial part of himself dead and rotted, left behind several lifetimes ago. But the memory of all that he's lost is poignant. He hasn't forgotten, and he has to make very little effort to remember, like what Prompto is sarcastically suggesting.

And so, a cut for a cut. He's better at that than honesty anyway.]

And what would you know about being human?

[punshots]

[ In this case, ironically, Ardyn is more the victim of circumstance, though it's certainly easier for Prompto to lose his cool around him than anyone else. He's unraveled, but it's on his terms this time, and Ardyn's words cut to the bone. They're so familiar, the ghost that never leaves him, and yet there's a flickering flame of indignation that flares to life in his gut. He's been told so many times, after all, that it doesn't matter where he comes from, that he's just as human as anyone else, and by no small miracle, that lesson has started to sink in.

So for how he winces at the insult, he doesn't sit back down, doesn't turn to hop on the bike and get the hell out of dodge. He stands his ground. ]

More than you, apparently! You think I don't get it, because of where I'm from? Because of what you would've made me into?

[ He'd heard the recordings. He knew how Ardyn had shaped so much of Bethisia's research, had suggested to him the very process that Prompto would have been a part of were it not for the impossible rescue that had spared him that fate. That fate that millions of others just like him had been subjected to. Millions of lives unlived, save for his single one, and like hell he isn't going to stand up for each and every one of them and fold when he's called anything less than human. ]

Well guess what! I'm not that scared kid anymore. Surprise! [ He lays the sarcasm on thick with a shake of his hands, before beating a fist over his heart. ] I am human, because I've had to spend my whole life fighting to understand what that means. And I'm a Lucian, too! More than you ever could be.

[ A fire roars behind his words, fanned by years and years of loneliness, of fear, of doubt, only to find friendship that had given him the courage to finally live for himself. His friends may be gone, but their brotherhood still lives on in him, and for the sake of that, for the sake of everything he's felt but never dared to voice, he faces Ardyn now. ]

[daemonized]

[And so he’s met with fire, absolutely white hot, a flaring up of defiance from Prompto that very few people have ever been bold enough to toss at him. Ardyn actually lifts his eyebrows, taking in everything that the young man has to say. Every little tell of his body language, the way his shoulder shakes with each word. How very convinced he is of his own humanity, that spark of hope that lingers and shines so bright that he actually has the courage to speak with him in this way.

He hates it, Prompto's propensity to believe in his own humanity. He sees it as something he can no longer do, something that Prompto has managed in the face of uncertainty and discontent, simply because — he can only assume — that others around him have convinced him of it. Ardyn tells himself that he should unravel that confidence, thread by thread. Watch it fray at the edges, to yank and pull at it until it knots and becomes something that Prompto would never be able to sort through again.

That was easier than self-reflection in this very moment. Thoughts that Ardyn never wants to entertain while in the company of others. It’s simpler, so much simpler, to just make others hurt as he had hurt once (still hurts). To see Prompto flourish past his sense of not-belonging, of not being human, makes him want to drag him so deep back under that surface of self-doubt so that he may drown.]

How defiant you are. Have I struck a nerve, Prompto?

[He is an unmoving pillar in the face of the storm that is the other. Each word purposefully chosen, only the way his jawline flexes betraying any of these thoughts going through his head.]

And I hope you’re not trying to strike one of mine. You’re missing the mark. [That might be a bluff, but it’s besides the point. He steps forward, which closes the gap of comfortably between them. Ardyn’s tall, and it’s easy to seem like he’s looming.] If you want to embrace being “human”, then I’ll not stop you. It makes you no harder to break than before. If anything, it makes it easier, makes you far more fragile. How easily humanity can shatter us all, and don't think that just because Eos is gone that I'll be disinclined to do it, when met with such stubbornness.

[punshots]

[ He hadn't expected Ardyn to be moved by his little speech. He hadn't really expected anything, because he's beyond the point of thinking this through. That's probably the only reason he was able to say what he had - the fearful thoughts that would usually chase him anytime the subject of his own humanity came up are drowned out by that roaring fire, that sense of belonging that at last seems to be within his grasp, if only for this moment.

He has enough self-preservation that kicks in - a survival instinct, really - when Ardyn makes his threat, though, and Prompto breathes in sharply as the other steps near. He leans back in his boots, but resists the temptation to step back, to show that clear sign of weakness. Even he is, in fact, afraid. Quite afraid. The threat is not an idle one, and Prompto knows it. He knows it as certain as his heart beats in his chest. As certain as the death of Lady Lunafreya, as the loss of Ignis's eyesight, as the visceral memory of hanging, waiting in Zegnautus Keep, a prisoner. As certain as Noctis disappearing into the Crystal, and Ardyn walking away with a smirk upon his lips.

Ardyn could kill him so easily, summon a weapon and lance him. That he hasn't yet is almost surprising, and for all his newfound fire, Prompto is not about to throw that threat back in Ardyn's face like a challenge. Like hell he's gonna do that. However Ardyn might entertain the idea of breaking him, he has to distance himself from it. ]

Don't - [ he's starting to appreciate how fully he is in over his head right now ] - don't you have better things to do? Th-than mess with just one more human?

[ He needs to get out of here. ]

[daemonized]

[How nice it is to know that he can continue to instill fear with just proximity and a few words alone. Some things haven’t changed, some experiences wrought from Eos not so easily forgotten just because they’ve both been uprooted from their homes.

He could hurt him just to make a point. It wouldn’t be hard at all, it’d barely require any effort on his part, nor much time. Not unlike snapping a twig from under the heel of his boot. Briefly, his sadistic nature makes him actually consider it, before his more rational mind tells him that seeing Prompto's reaction should be satisfying enough for now.]

I have a myriad of things I could be doing right now. But can’t I say the same for you?

[A motion over to Prompto’s soup bike, though his gaze doesn’t leave the boy.]

Since you’re so eager to help everyone, you’ve no time to waste. Go on, then.

[punshots]

[ It's almost too easy an out for him to trust it - and he doesn't, but he isn't so stubborn that he isn't going to take this out while he can, before Ardyn's patience runs out and he winds up in bad shape. He's said what he needed to, voiced what burned in his heart, and now, he needs to get out of here. Get back to what he should be doing.

As Ardyn so helpfully points out.

So without taking his eyes off the other man, Prompto edges back towards his bike, watchful. ]

R-right. No time to waste.

[ He doesn't linger. He hops on and makes his grand exit...on a bike loaded up with chicken noodle soup. ]