[ 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

[punshots]

[ There's no helping the way he dissolves under her tender touch, gestures so simple and sweet, and yet they bring an impossible warmth to his heart, and it's unthinkable that he could had ever known a time in his life where he didn't have this - didn't have her - or that he could come to know such a time again. There'd always been the quiet fear in the back of his heart, that Prompto or Alisaie or both of them could end up back in stasis and it'd be like this exquisitely wonderful thing between them had never happened at all. And yet this...the very idea that his life could go on here without her, not because of stasis, but because of something far worse, is unfathomable. But it will. He knows it will, just as Noctis had continued to walk tall, even after losing Lunafreya. He'd hurt so badly then, and Prompto had nothing but the deepest sympathies for his friend. But he never understood - couldn't have understood - how it felt to lose the one you love.

Until now.

It's...a strange thought. Like living without the sun shining, without the warm breeze on your face, without your heart beating for a real purpose. But he'd told her...he'd be happy, and that was true. This time they've had together, pulled from adjacent worlds to become friends and then lovers, however brief, means the world to him, and it always will. To love someone like her, and feel so completely loved in return...how could he be anything but happy?

In the end, he only has the strength to cry for so long, his body fatigued and waiting for the sweet release of sleep that he still holds out on. Under the warmth of her kisses, her fingertips, he starts to dry out, his breathing still shallow but more even now. He just...doesn't have the energy to cry any longer, though the ache is still there, blistering and angry and red. And in the haze that follows, his free hand lifts to her face, to trace her jaw, her lips, the arc of her cheeks and her ears, like he's afraid he'll forget her face unless he memorizes it with his touch.

As his thumb passes over her bottom lip, still chapped and crusted with blood, he finally finds his voice again. ]

Can I ask one more favor you?

[adelphoi]

[ she could lie here as long as they like, as long as her consciousness would allow, simply experiencing one another. she holds him while he weeps, and while her own eyes and cheeks are wet she doesn't have the energy to sob as he does though they experience it as one nonetheless. she murmurs and hushes him, dragging her fingernails against his scalp and her kisses over his brow until at last he begins to run out of tears and settle in her arms, weary and spent.

her eyes close against the drag of his fingertips while he touches her face, and in this moment somehow she is able to feel.. peace. if this is the last thing she is to know, to experience, then perhaps she can pass with happiness in her heart.

but when he speaks her eyes crack open again, gazing pensively into his face, her thumb gliding beneath his eyes to catch his tears. ]

Yes, love?

[punshots]

[ She meets his eyes again, and he takes a moment just to appreciate them, to appreciate her, still a marvel, still beautiful, even after all this plague has taken from her. What he wouldn't give to see her smiling and laughing and full of life again...but he's thought that thought over so many times since this all began. It has made no difference so far.

But as they lie there, touching and seamless and infinite, he remembers it all, before Wyver, before she'd fallen ill, before the bomb. He remembers the first time they talked, and she'd chastised him for not making use of his time, but they'd found a simple kinship in what they shared of home. He remembers the fireside, her head on his shoulder. The lake, the sun, laughing so much it hurt. Their first days in Olympia, the first time he realized he'd started to fall for her. He remembers lying with her in the sun, how tenderly she'd held him on the roof when Noctis had disappeared, the moonlight upon her face. He remembers when he told him the worst of his past, only to have her tell him such wonderful words and kiss him for the very first time. He remembers every tender kiss, every warm touch, every time she ever made him feel like he was really worth something. Telling her how he loved her, only to hear those miraculous words said back to him, giving everything to her as she gave him everything and more. Waking up with her in his arms, whole and complete in a way he never expected he could be.

And every day since she got sick, as difficult as they have become, he's only grown to love her more. His heart is so full with it, even now, as her spirit seems to wander so close to somewhere beyond. Something as strong as this, a force that had mended him, bettered him, could not be easily broken by even death.

So after a moment, his head turning slightly to press a kiss to her palm, he answers. ]

When you wake up from this...cured, you'll let me kiss you, and hold you, and tell you how much I love you until I'm out of breath.

[ He holds her gaze, level, and raw. ]

Promise?

[adelphoi]

[ she's not sure what she expects to hear. some request to be strong, to keep fighting 'til the last moment, something along those lines perhaps. but what he says instead is so sweet and tender that for a moment her breath stills, before rushing out in a hard exhale, her cracked lips curling into a weak but radiant smile.

for all she's done wrong in her life, all the mistakes she has made, being with him had been the right choice. there is nothing in this world that she is more sure of. ]

Yes.

[ her voice is soft and quiet, she speaks into the private space between them that is all their own, her chest comfortably tight. her hands still on his face for a moment, before drawing him in closer, close enough to touch her brow to his, to wrap her arms around his neck and squeeze with what little strength she can muster. ]

I look forward to it.

[ gods, she misses his kiss, the simple pleasure of his mouth on hers driving away all thoughts, all pain, filling her senses with him and only him. if she makes it through this alive she'll be sure to kiss him breathless, to kiss him until their mouths are sore, then kiss him more. ]

[punshots]

[ She leans her head against his and pulls her arms around him, and he does the same. So, so carefully do his arms wind around her that it takes a long moment before he's holding her close, but once he is, he feels at peace, a grin find its rightful place on his lips.

He knows she will fight. He knows if there's anyone who can still come out of this alive, it's her. So her promise isn't just a sweet nothing; it's a steadfast rope for him to cling to, a beacon to draw him from the depths of despair. There's nothing else he can do to help the cure come any quicker. So all that's left for him to do is believe, to have faith in her, that she'll come through.

It's fortunate that believing in her is such an easy thing for him to do. ]

...Me, too.

[adelphoi]

[ the careful, gentle pressure of his arms is still enough to hurt, but alisaie has become so accustomed to pain that it does not matter. it's a worthwhile sacrifice to feel his arms around her again, to be able to be so close to him that they become a messy, perfect tangle. it makes her feel strong, loved, cared for. it brings her peace.

but gods she's so tired, tucked up against him like this, the scent of his skin enough to drown out the smell of blood, the warmth of his body enough to chase away the ache in her bones. she is content, happy, and more importantly she is no longer afraid, at least not in any way that can truly touch her. even though she has her misgivings, his endless faith in her ability to overcome this gives her some small modicum of hope.

her head is growing cloudy, like a the curtain drawn before the drama of their evening, and alisaie's eyelids feel heavy as lead. satisfied as she is, comfortable as his arms are, it's growing more and more difficult to keep her eyes open. a deep breath, and her grasp on him begins to slacken a little, her nose bumping his, her words little more than a whisper. ]

I'm.. so tired.

[punshots]

[ He feels her breath gust across his lips, feels her body going still and lax in his arms. Part of him wants to keep her talking, keep her awake and cognizant for as long as possible, for whenever she slips back into sleep, he doesn't know when the next time he'll see her awake again will be. It could be days now, with how things are going. It could be...

But even now, he can't bring himself to accept the finality, that this could be the last time he hears her sweet voice, marred as it is, or feels her warm touch, deliberate in showing him affection. It can't be. It can't be.

He squeezes her hand in his. She shouldn't be afraid to rest. She'll suffer far less that way. ]

I know.

[ He is, too. ]

I'll be here.

[ So should she fall asleep...it will be okay. He'll make sure that it is. ]

[adelphoi]

[ he'll be here.

and she knows it. prompto is as loyal as a hound, almost to a fault, and knowing that he will remain beside her is a comfort like no other, and his assurance makes her smile, a soft, contented sound in her throat, her fingers moving weakly against his nape.

but she's too exhausted to do more, to keep this up any longer. her mind is thick and soupy and her limbs feel like stone, like she can no longer lift or control them. a soft shudder runs through her body, down along her limbs and with one final, rushing exhale she falls still. ]

[punshots]

[ He can pinpoint the exact moment she slips back into unconsciousness, because the moment after his chest gives a terrible, painful squeeze and would have him searching for signs of life in her were it not for the steady, if slow, rhythm of her heartbeat near their still-joined hands.

But his brief panic abates quickly enough, and content that she sleeps and nothing more, Prompto presses one more kiss to her brow, before letting his eyes flutter shut.

No, he probably still won't sleep, but he can at least lay here, and keep vigil at her side for as long as he needs to. ]

I'll be waiting for you, sweetheart.