Prompto misses him. He misses the godawful dad jokes, the way he used to sling his arm over his shoulder and nearly bowl him over, he misses that little sly quirk of his mouth when he would kinda but not grin. A world full of darkness and daemons means that there isn't much room for any of that. Prompto tries to keep in contact with Gladio, keep up, but one day he wakes up in Lestallum and the man's just gone after they bitched each other out. He hears about a big hunt that could clear the way to Hammerhead after the fact.
It's radio silence then.
After Gralea and Ardyn, Prompto's never really felt like his old self. Not entirely. Sometimes his nerves on fire and he catches himself shaking slightly, fingers spasming as feeling vanishes. Sometimes he finds himself wandering in the night like it's magnetic and he realizes he can see just fine outside of the safety of the lights. Whatever Ardyn did to him doesn't mean he's suddenly buddy-buddy with the daemons or the MTs wandering out from the old Imperial bases. It just means he has to haul ass back to a haven every time he gives himself a shake and realize he's wandered off again, zombie-style, and if he isn't careful, he'll get Iggy killed at this rate.
So he pulls a Gladio. He leaves.
A year in and Prompto's a better shot, lankier and with less photos under his belt. Hadn't seemed like there was much of a reason to whip the camera out unless he needed photographic evidence of a hunt. He comes across Gladio totally on accident. Same job, with the other hunter camouflaged in rags it's hard to make his features out. The new guy comes in and decapitates the daemon before Prompto can finish the job, the sword ringing through the air.
He isn't even pissed the guy stole his thunder. Right now he's just relieved as he dusts himself off because his fingers are numbing again, starting to shake slightly as he tries to hide the symptoms.
cool! Lemme know if I should change anyhting
Prompto misses him. He misses the godawful dad jokes, the way he used to sling his arm over his shoulder and nearly bowl him over, he misses that little sly quirk of his mouth when he would kinda but not grin. A world full of darkness and daemons means that there isn't much room for any of that. Prompto tries to keep in contact with Gladio, keep up, but one day he wakes up in Lestallum and the man's just gone after they bitched each other out. He hears about a big hunt that could clear the way to Hammerhead after the fact.
It's radio silence then.
After Gralea and Ardyn, Prompto's never really felt like his old self. Not entirely. Sometimes his nerves on fire and he catches himself shaking slightly, fingers spasming as feeling vanishes. Sometimes he finds himself wandering in the night like it's magnetic and he realizes he can see just fine outside of the safety of the lights. Whatever Ardyn did to him doesn't mean he's suddenly buddy-buddy with the daemons or the MTs wandering out from the old Imperial bases. It just means he has to haul ass back to a haven every time he gives himself a shake and realize he's wandered off again, zombie-style, and if he isn't careful, he'll get Iggy killed at this rate.
So he pulls a Gladio. He leaves.
A year in and Prompto's a better shot, lankier and with less photos under his belt. Hadn't seemed like there was much of a reason to whip the camera out unless he needed photographic evidence of a hunt. He comes across Gladio totally on accident. Same job, with the other hunter camouflaged in rags it's hard to make his features out. The new guy comes in and decapitates the daemon before Prompto can finish the job, the sword ringing through the air.
He isn't even pissed the guy stole his thunder. Right now he's just relieved as he dusts himself off because his fingers are numbing again, starting to shake slightly as he tries to hide the symptoms.
"Thanks, man. You did me a solid."