Prompto isn't a fan of being carried bridal-style; reminds him of how short he is, how the whole prisoner thing made him weak in front of Gladio. When the other option is figuring out to walk, though, with the huge task of putting one foot in front of the other, he'll suck it up just this once. Besides, there's something that he doesn't mind as he's cradled against Gladio, feeling his chest rise and fall, the warmth of his skin pressing against his cheek. For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels safe enough to close his eyes and drift off to the sound of his friend's familiar footsteps.
He wakes up to the sound of beeping and a set of doors hissing open. Prompto stirs against Gladio, his head lifting as he comes back to the land of the living. The brightness of the dorm's light hits him like a wall, his face scrunching as he makes a low, uncomfortable noise. One hand balls in Gladio's jacket as if he wants to grope for the light switch.
" - that's bright. What's that, the power of the sun?" Prompto chimes up from where he'd been silent against Gladio a few minutes ago, voice still cracking at the edges, slightly stronger than before.
He doesn't exactly squirm out away like a fish, but he does reach up to flop a hand over his eyes to try to shade them, squinting through his eyelashes and wondering how long it'll take to adjust. Spending days - weeks? Who even knows? - cooped up in the dimly lit cells means he finds the safety of the dorm's fluorescents way too hardcore for his tastes.
"Sorry." He hadn't thought much about it, but right now it's the least important thing. Prompto gets laid down with a tenderness people might not have expected out of the big man, his hand coming up to brush some of the blond strands back from Prompto's face, looking down over the damage done. There's so much of it. The bruising looks so much worse set against Prompto's pale coloring, but it all speaks of days of torture. What was that fluid that had been being pumped into Prompto? What had Ardyn done?
"Just keep your eyes closed." From his pocket he pulls out one of the few potions he has left, away from Noct's ability to make more, but he'd found machines full of potions and remedies. Those... he doesn't trust as much as Noct's, so he cracks it open and slides a hand under Prompto's head, nudging the cool edge of the energy drink to his lips. "Need you to drink this for me, got it? Slow and steady. We're safe here." One door to defend and that's locked, so it's about as safe as it's going to get at this point.
His thumb moves softly against the back of Prompto's neck, ignoring the tightness in his chest. If he could do every bit of damage to Ardyn that the madman had done to Prompto... he would do it a thousand times over.
Reluctantly he squeezes them shut, as ordered, and tries to get used to lying on the dorm's bunk. It feels almost too soft. Same could be said for Gladio's gentle touch, Prompto not proud to say that he flinches slightly out of instinct when his thumb rubs over his cheek. He breathes out a quiet "sorry, nerves" because the last thing he wants is his friend thinking it's him. It isn't. It really isn't. He's just hopped up on nerves and the thing is, when your only company around here was Ardyn, you need a few minutes to get used to a friend's touch.
Maybe more than a friend. They'd kinda left off at a funny place before the train.
Prompto doesn't seem like he wants to deal with the potion. Too much work to swallow. Pulling a face, he starts to turn his head away until Gladio says the magic words. Do it for him. That gets a muted reaction from Prompto in the form of a sigh as he tries to do what he asked. It isn't easy, and he swears half of the drink ends up all over his neck and chest, but some of it makes it into his mouth. It slides down his throat, chilled, sweet and carbonated because that's how the Imperials apparently roll with their versions of potions. Sputters turn to coughs wracking his frame.
He realizes with a start that he's suddenly hanging onto Gladio, his fingers tight around his wrist with a dead man's relentless grip. He knows Gladio can take it and more, no problem. Man's built like a tank. Guilt still wells up and he forces his fingers to unlock, hoping he didn't bruise the guy.
"Let's...try again later," Prompto says weakly. "Could you bring me up to speed?"
'Nerves'. Gladio isn't sure he believes that for a moment, staring down at Prompto's face. Prompto has never flinched from him before. Not even during training, during sparring, when they were having fun. He's never seen Prompto flinch from anything. He's seen it in Noct, when anyone tries to touch the scar on his back. Seen it in fighters who have seen too much and even in his own father.
If his worry hadn't been as strong as it is, he knows his anger would have lost him in that moment. He pulls his hand back, fighting the urge to clench down physically on what he feels in his head.
At least some of the potion gets in Prompto, and what doesn't won't really go to waste. It'll soak into the skin, repairing damage on the outside, but Gladio knows from the blood around Prompto's lips its the internal damage they have to be more concerned about. One arm stays wrapped around Prompto's body, keeping him close without a second thought. Giving the other the strength he's supposed to have even if he feels so Gods damned helpless right now.
"Let me get your eye?" asks quietly, setting the last bits of the potion in his lap and taking some up on his fingers, gesturing with them towards Prompto's face. At least some of that horrific puffiness he could deal with. "...I can get you up to speed as much as I can, but... there's not a lot of it." And from the frustration that leaks though, Gladio is every kind of angry still on that notion.
"Okay. Just...I know you'll be gentle but go extra gentle?"
With his eyes squeezed shut he can't see Gladio gesturing toward his face - there's some kind of animal instinct picking up motion above him, however, and he figures he wants to deal with the swelling on his left side. That was fairly recent, he thinks. Maybe he didn't react the way Ardyn wanted or maybe he did and this was a love tap. At this point it doesn't matter.
Prompto steels himself for the sensation of touch against his face again, tongue flicking out to wet his chapped lips, tasting the sweetened tingle of the Nif potion doing its thing. It tastes...surprisingly good. Like he wouldn't have minded more if he could keep it down. While everything from his teeth to the roots of his hair seems like they're starting to report with what hurts, the knowledge that Gladio's here in the flesh? It somehow lifts everything, makes Prompto feels like he's floating and untouchable and maybe things don't suck as much as he thought. He's becoming almost hyper-aware of Gladio's arm wrapped around him like a shield, the flex of muscle and skin.
He holds still as Gladio works some of the potion across his cheekbone, unable to hide the wince. The curative glistens across swelling skin and it isn't long before the same tingling sets in.
"So what happened? After the train?" His face turns toward Gladio's voice. Maybe in a minute he'll try again cracking his eyes open. At least he'll be able to drink in a friend's face looking down at him, try to gauge where they stand on more than his voice. Prove to him that he can keep up after a breather.
/trying to remember the exact events of play while on less than five hours of sleep
For a man who could destroy things with a crush of his hand, who could break through stone columns when he's determined enough, Gladio's hand is feather light against Prompto's skin. The last thing he wants to do is bring around more pain as his fingers delicately work the potion in around Prompto's eye socket, his thumb catching a bit of the liquid as it tries to dribble away. The wince only brings a tired rouse of anger, but he knows the potion will take some of it away.
His arm stays strong and firm around Prompto, keeping him close. How can someone feel so damn cold? How long had he been hanging there? It all brings up another lick of rage within him, a fire banked temporarily so that it could become an inferno later, but every bit of damage he finds, every flinch and wince, adds another piece of charcoal. Waiting.
"We couldn't find either of you until suddenly Ignis' five hundredth phone call to Noct actually gets picked up. ...Noct... shit. He tore himself apart. I could hear him on the phone with Iggy." Like a broken wail, the sound of a dying thing, full of fear and anger and guilt. "When we finally stopped, we got the Regalia out and started towards this hellhole. ...the old girl protected us from daemons and explosions and fire and got us here, but only by the skin of our teeth. Served the prince until the end."
A fitting end, in a way, to a car that had seen so much, but not a deserved end.
His fingertips move towards Prompto's arm, hovering above the ragged damaged to a wrist that had been in shackles, but he stops before he makes contact with potion-laden fingers and gives a questioning look. Okay?
Prompto's quiet as he takes it all in. Usually he'd be more reactive - in the face and eyes, always moving around in his chair like he's making himself at home and getting it just right - but today he's bone-tired. He lies there feeling like Gladio's cradling him and not minding, picturing in his mind's eye what happened and wishing he didn't have such a good imagination. Something in him curls up, shriveling in on itself, the weak, insignificant part he hadn't dared let Iggy and Gladio see, the same one he'd shown Noct for two seconds on Longwythe's motel roof. He'd dumping his baggage on the prince's lap like it even mattered in the grand scheme of things.
He swallows thickly. "Oh," Prompto says, his voice small. "Man, I don't even know what to say."
Well, aside from the obvious, which is that it sounds like they're hardcore screwed. Iggy and Noct out there, MIA. The Regalia's totaled from the sound of it, the thought hitting him hard when he thinks back to the long trips, the same music stations, Noct catnapping in the car. Turning around and there's Gladio with his face in his latest book, still not puking because apparently the man's incapable of motion sickness. The corners of his eyes prickle. Could be tears. Could be the potion.
He manages to cracked open his left eye a fraction so he can peek out between his eyelashes. Gladio's hovering, looking larger than life, the look on his face almost alien. He's almost never seen the man with that expression; a mix of simmering anger and...fear? Regret?
"Go ahead. I'll try not to punch you in the face," Prompto wheezes and this time he manages to crack a feeble smile even as his breath trembles in anticipation. "Hit me."
The pain before the potion sets in will distract him, at least. He won't have to think about Noct and Iggy, the poor Regalia, Ardyn; all bonuses even though he knows ducking his head like a scared chocobo won't change anything. His grip tightens again on Gladio as he dips his chin and nods.
"Gee, thanks." The dry sarcasm doesn't have it's usual bite, but there it is as he pours some of the cool liquid across Prompto's wrist, letting it start to soak in before he even dares to touch. "Just breathe through it. Stick with me, even if you gotta hit me."
The bubbles fizz and pop against the raw muscle and rawer skin, swiftly beginning their work. He isn't sure he trusts this stuff the Niffs use, but there's not a lot of choice. This... fake-magic they use, to create things like this, to power their stuff. He doesn't trust any of it, but it's better than leaving Prompto in pain right now.
He wants to know what happened. He wants to know what sins Ardyn has to pay for on top of everything else the man's done so far. He doesn't dare ask Prompto because he has the sliver of an idea of what might have happened and every man has the right to his privacy. ...Still...
"Gonna get you healed up as much as we can... let you rest. I'll keep watch. Noct's going crazy looking for you; he's gotta come through here if I did. He and Iggy can't be that far, because I know they followed at least some of the same path." He takes a breath, looking up to Prompto's face. Somehow, the younger man looks even younger, so damn pale, a crimson spread of hurt across his cheeks. There's a deeper urge to want to protect that rolling in his chest, that wants to keep him safe even though he already failed. Is failing Noct, now.
He knows Noct wouldn't forgive him if he didn't make sure Prompto lived long enough for them to meet, even if the soldier in him says to leave Prompto here, relatively safe, and find his prince.
Prompto nods and starts to say "I'll try not to aim for the face".
He doesn't get the chance.
The curative hits the ugly gashes in his wrist, deep and well on their way to infection with the ragged edges a rainbow of unnatural colors, and it immediately starts foaming. It burns, goes through skin and muscle. Feels like it's dissolving his bone. Prompto suddenly surges up against Gladio with a strangled yelp that could be a curse. His other arm flails out and nearly clocks his friend on the chin as he twists away like he's being electrocuted. The only thing keeping him from rolling right off the bed is the grip Gladio has, strong as always, like an immovable rock. He struggles to jerk himself free from Gladio for a few long moments, as if he could somehow outrun the Nif potion. After awhile the rest of it kicks in and starts leeching out the fire lancing up his arm, replacing it with sweet, sweet numbness.
Prompto visibly relaxes with a sigh that sinks him back into the bed. He blinks rapidly, cracking open his eyes so they're slits through his eyelashes. "I don't want Noct to get himself killed trying to find me. I'll slow you guys down like this."
Even with the potion, it'll take some time to get back to 100%. From the expression on Gladio's face, a mixture of what he thinks might be sadness, maybe pity, Prompto figures things aren't looking awesome. He catches his breath and ignores the potion sizzling away.
Gladio barely manages to get his face out of the way of that flailing fist, but he keeps his arm tight around Prompto and his body firm, not wanting him to flail out or fall off even as he hates the sound that leaves the younger man. There's always been something about Prompto, something difficult to pinpoint down, that's been different about him compared to the rest of them. It hadn't been until this road trip that Prompto had done something, something small, out in the middle of a field as they went towards a hunt, that he had finally figured it out. It had been something that immediately pulled out an old memory somewhere in the back of his mind of when Noct was young, before the attack.
Innocence. There is an innocence about Prompto that shines through and has helped them all every step of the way to keep their spirits, and their sanity, together. It's not the kind of thing you tell someone, but it's there, something Gladio has wanted to protect because he couldn't in Noct. That innocence had been long gone, but Prompto... brought it back for all of them.
"Gotta do the other one," Gladio murmurs, not quite ready to tackle the other statement. He carefully tugs Prompto up, sliding an arm behind him and in fact just shifting to sit behind him, give him a place to lean against without thinking twice. He has to be the soldier, the one who keeps them going, to keep fighting, because this mission had to succeed. It's bigger than any of them, and even if in the end they all come to hate him but they can make it happen... it's what he has to do. Defend the King, even at the cost of his own. Even from himself. From failure, as much as he can.
Prompto grunts as he settles into place. Sitting nestled Gladio is comforting in so many ways, some he has words to express, others that he doesn't and he's fine with that because he somehow feels...right where he is. With their size difference, his head is able to rest against the other man instead of flopping uselessly back, Prompto for a moment feeling human again now that he has Gladio lifting him. Being the rock he needs more than anything.
For a moment it's nice to sit, half-cradled by Gladio, and enjoy the other man's presence, the feeling of his solid body supporting him like a wall. He lets out a breath, slow, shaking but stronger than before, and hypes himself up for the next round of curative.
Prompto's other arm's drawn tight to his chest out of some instinct, like he can stop what's about to happen just by sheer willpower. Logically he knows Gladio needs to do this. If his other wrist is anything to go by, this is going to be pure bliss after the first few agonizing seconds are out of the way. It's still too bright in the room, his eyes squeezed partially shut as he turns his head so he can catch Gladio out of his peripheral. No new scars he can see (awesome) and while he can see he's pissed about what Ardyn did if that ticking jaw muscle is anything to go by, he's doing that thing where he grits his teeth, squares himself, and keeps on truckin'
"Okay, I'm good," Prompto lies. "Watch out so I don't headbutt you."
Because if the last time was anything to by, he'll make a good shot out of it while Gladio tries to patch him up.
He knows it's a lie, but they don't have a choice in the matter. Prompto might catch the faint look of 'proud of you' in Gladio's eyes or not, but it's there, as he shifts enough to try and make sure that Prompto does not in fact headbutt him, then takes his hand to hold it before pouring on the potion. This time, given the somewhat dramatic reaction of last time, he braces himself more by tucking his shoulder right behind Prompto's head and uses the side of his head to keep the blond's there while keeping a grip on Prompto's hand. At least he can protect himself from some flying body parts, this way.
He's damn proud of how Prompto's handling all of this. He could be broken, angry, scared, and no matter what he is, he's fighting to keep going. Noct needs Prompto, hell they all do, but Gladio knows that like Ignis did, Prompto's got to make that choice to stick with them. Otherwise, the fight won't be in him to keep going through this, but... how they're going to make it to the end, he has no idea. Find the crystal, that's the only path forward he knows right now. Noct has a destiny and for better or worse, they're there to make sure it gets seen through to the end.
Right now, though? Once the pain wears off for Prompto, he might notice that Gladio has let go of his hand and unthinkingly is stroking the skin along his forearm with his thumb, trying to be soothing.
It's a good thing Gladio holds onto his arm this time because when the Nif curative starts sizzling away, the first thing Prompto does is try to jerk it away. Since the other man's much stronger than he is, he doesn't manage to wrench his arm free even though he's totally hopped up on adrenaline. Next thing he does is immediately do what he was hoping he wouldn't: his head spasms back and if it wasn't for Gladio bracing for it, he probably would've cracked his skull square into his nose.
When the pain subsides, Prompto finds that he's gone limp as he pants softly against Gladio, relief coming with the numbness. Sure, it feels like his wrists are missing and he can't tell if his fingers are moving without glancing down, but he's glad it's over and done with. He shifts against Gladio's chest.
"Thanks, buddy. You did me a solid."
He turns his head, careful, so careful, not to hit Gladio. More than anything he wants to see a friendly face and seeing those long scars slashed across his face, the amber eyes that seem to pull you in even as they're crinkling at the edges with faint laugh lines. He looks up into those eyes, holds them, and he manages a grateful smile up at Gladio that he hopes can say everything words can't.
Amazing how much power could be in that little body when it's in pain. Gladio is damn glad he'd been ready for Prompto's head because a broken nose is the last thing they need to deal with right now, on top of everything else. As Prompto goes limp, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. What in the hells is wrong with the Niffs that they'd make a potion carbonated?
...Hells.
Gladio finds himself immersed in that gaze. Maybe it's the redness around his eyes, on his cheeks, that makes them seem so much brighter, but he finds himself at a loss for words at what he sees there. It's... beautiful. Not a word he uses easily when it comes to another person, but it filters through his mind until he brings up a hand, touching the side of Prompto's face gently, palm against his jaw. He lays their foreheads together without a word, eyes closing as he just... is, just for a minute. Maybe saying something he can't, right now. Maybe never. An apology, for what he's said and done to Prompto in the most immediate and in the past, and probably what will come in the future.
Little do either of them know just how bad it will get all too soon.
It's as weak as he's let himself be since Ravus had cut himself down so easily.
He isn't expecting what Gladio does next - at the same time, Prompto's greedy when he's busted up like this and y'know what, he's totally taking this. His eyes drift shut after a surprised moment to bask in the moment, in the other man's presence. What it means to be Gladio's friend and before this, he'd wondered if they'd be more. If there was something after Noct did his thing with the Crystal. It had seemed far away after the train, after Ardyn and his fun rack, and suddenly it's swimming back into focus and Gladio is front and center.
Prompto swallows, throat closing up, and it has nothing to do with what Ardyn did or the Nif potion burning. His hand cups Gladio's, his numb fingers dwarfed by the larger man's and, he imagines, warming with his body heat.
"Thank you."
For all of this. For being there. Prompto could run down a whole list of everything he's grateful to Gladio for and none of it seems like it would cover all the bases. He pulls back after a moment, blinking quickly again and this time his eyes are glistening as he reaches up and rubs at his eyes before it's obvious he's tearing up. Probably too late. Maybe he should just bite the bullet and run with that secret moment they have between them. Prompto focuses on Gladio, drinking in every detail of his face, the smudges of dirt, the new scar slashed across his forehead that he still hasn't explained, and he runs with it:
"Gladio, I was thinking - "
And because they can't have anything nice, that's exactly when the dorm's intercom system buzzes on and Ardyn's voice purrs through the static:
"It's so very heartwarming to see a reunion between friends."
Is it bad my mind went 'AND BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE!' on that last line? XD
There is a moment of peace, the first in a long time, as they both get a good look at each other. He might have said something of what he was feeling, but Prompto gets there first and-
Prompto would be front and center to feel every inch of Gladio as the man tenses. It's like a ripple through his body as Gladio's anger surges hot through him, his head snapping up and glaring angrily upwards towards nothing in particular, but he knows there are Gods damned cameras around. His body language screams of rage, but also protectiveness as he shifts himself slightly to put his body between Prompto and the door, keeping him close.
Unlike Noct and Ignis, elsewhere, Gladio had heard nothing of Ardyn's little fun speeches and torments as he'd moved through the Tower. Too unimportant, he might have guessed, so he growls under his breath like a behemoth before he snaps out, "if I get my hands on you, there won't be anything left!"
Prompto isn’t proud to say he goes rigid at Ardyn’s interruption. He stiffens while his hand clenches tight onto Gladio with a deathgrip that can’t be comfortable, teeth on edge as they grind painfully. He’s...seen things with Ardyn, things he doesn’t know how to explain but enough to know that the door? Might not be enough to stop him if he’s on the other side. If he wants in, he'll get in. The intercom crackles:
“That would be interesting to see, no doubt: maybe I’ll drop by for a visit. Between friends, you understand, just you and me and maybe Prompto if he’s feeling up to it.”
Prompto’s gone even paler. The intercom clicks off and it's silent again save for their breathing, his going shallow, Gladio's deep, quicker than before, as if he's prepping to carry his threat out. His throat feels like it's tightened as he swallows thickly before he finds his voice, searching for what to say. His eyes drop from Gladio's face to his hands which look like they've curled into fists, skin stretched tight over his knuckles.
"We probably shouldn't stay in one spot for too long," Prompto says finally. "Makes it easier for Ardyn to come after us."
He dreads the idea of walking again. Getting caught in a room with one exit, watching Ardyn torture Gladio just to keep himself occupied and his mind fresh, and yeah, he dreads that even more. Consider him motivated to get outta here.
"You try to touch him again, you'll pay for it," Gladio snarls up at the intercom, an honest to the Six snarl. If he's even noticed Prompto's death grip, he gives no sign, but despite everything he feels, that Prompto shouldn't be up and moving yet, he won't leave the blond alone and they can't stay here. He whispers a harsh curse before he makes a fast choice. "We need to find Noct and Iggy, and I need to cut that bastard into a thousand pieces."
But Prompto's in barely any kind of shape, even after the potion. At least the worst around his eye and the ragged flesh of his wrists are handled, but anything past that, he has no idea. He shifts his body, putting his back to Prompto, and he gestured with his chin. "Arms around my neck." Oh yes, he would piggy-back Prompto because it would let them move quick and keep Prompto damn well at his side, out of Ardyn's hands. Long as Prompto could hang on, he could even potentially have his hands free in combat and the kid barely weighed anything for him to worry about.
He needs to find his charge, needs to bring Prompto to him so Noct stops being so singularly minded, needs to know Noct and Ignis are okay.
Prompto will need to explain he isn't sure that's a thing. The whole cutting Ardyn into a thousand pieces thing? Yeah, so it might not be as easy as it sounds on paper. Last thing he wants is Gladio to find that out the hard way...and find out what happens if - when - Ardyn morphs from amused to bored and maybe decides he's doesn't want the Shield around to toy with.
"Yessir," Prompto tries to lighten the mood as he slings his arms around Gladio's neck. The guy's built like a wall but even so, he hopes he doesn't, like, choke the guy after everything they've been through. "Maybe we need another plan of attack? He wants us to be together and doing what he wants seems like...I dunno. It doesn't end awesome."
As much as he aches to see Iggy and Noct - especially Noct, if only to ask him the questions he wishes he could ask privately - he doesn't want to keep following along after Ardyn's carrots. Sure, sometimes it pays off at first but there's always something, always a catch even if it's days down the line. Prompto's grip tightens for a moment as he loops his legs around Gladio's stomach, feeling the hard muscles flex as he stands.
"Feel free to drop my on my ass if you need to," Prompto tries to manage a feeble smile at the back of Gladio's head. He's still got that quasi-mullet going on and if you ask him, it's the best damn mullet in the history of mullets.
"We can't stay apart," Gladio mutters quietly, hoping if they keep this discussion just between them maybe the asshole listening in wouldn't be able to hear. "...Noct's been freaking out ever since- whatever the hell happened on the train." He still doesn't know about Ardyn's little ability to cast illusions. "He needs to know you're okay or he's going to break himself getting to you. Even if that's part of Ardyn's plan, we still gotta do it." He'd never heard Noct sound like that before and he'd be happy to never, ever hear that kind of fear again.
"We get into a fight, you hang on for everything you're worth, got it?" He would, in fact, drop Prompto on his ass if he needed to, but he'll make sure he's protected. He'll be protecting Noct by getting Prompto back to him alive because Noct will stop head rushing into everything blindly in his worry. Which is how they ended up separated to begin with, damn it. "We gotta find the other two, then we gotta find out where the crystal is. I've got an idea; I saw the damn thing on a monitor as I was going through this hell hole, but getting there isn't gonna be easy."
Danm right it's the best damn mullet in the hisory of mullets. He pulls that shit off.
He went to the door and opened it, looking down the hallway. Everything's been empty except those MTs that seem completely busted up, but right now it looks like they're alone. "You manage to hang on, I'll give you the first shot on fuckface, okay?" Trying to keep Prompto's head in the game, knowing that the other has to be absolutely exhausted.
There's no way to say this without sounding totally lame, but when he hears that Noct's actually worried, it does make him feel better. Couldn't shake what he said the last time on the train, even though he knows what Ardyn did because the Chancellor couldn't help gloating about it. Good thing he's riding piggyback on Gladio: it means the guy can't see the pathetic, hopeful look on his face.
"Yeah...yeah, I guess you're right. We'll hook up with Noct and everything will be better."
Okay, so now he's just saying that, trying to put his best foot forward so Gladio doesn't see the real him.
Prompto's grip tightens around Gladio to show he's got him, since he can't see him pausing and nodding. For a moment he's silent as he peeks out the hallway. Now that he's conscious this time around, he can see that it's abandoned, for the most part. A few sprawled MTs lie here and there, something clutching at his throat as he goes down that rabbit hole and wonders about them. Who they were. How much of that person might've been alive inside the shells, if that was a thing. Horrible to think this, but he's hoping for their own sake whoever fueled the MT? That they're long gone. Casting one last look at the red points of eyes glaring from within the MT's casing, Prompto tears his eyes away.
"About that," Prompto bites his lip before he goes on, "Gladio, I kinda don't think it's that easy. Maybe we should just get to Noct and Iggy and the crystal and call it a day."
Cowardly, maybe, but the idea of Gladio facing up against Ardyn and thinking he'll die like anyone else 'cause he got run through with a bigass blade? It scares the holy hell out of him.
Gladio's ignoring the broken wrecks, though he does give them as wide a berth as he is capable. The fact that any of them are up and moving has left him with an utter distrust of the damned things even more so than he had before coming into this hell. This place is downright disturbing in its empty silence to the point that even trying to imagine it full of people working, creating these monsters, feels impossible.
He isn't a stupid man. He's no Ignis, then again very few people are, but he picks up something that slows his step, a frown coming across his lips. "...Prom, what aren't you telling me?" he growls very quietly the words under his breath, knowing that they're being watched. What does he know about why it wouldn't be that easy? Yeah, fuckface (he's mentally completely ignoring that that man even has a name) has some tricks up his sleeve, but together, they'll figure out a way to handle him. There's nothing political, no reason to hold back. They need to kill him, however or whatever it takes.
This damned place feels endless. He's still on the move, one arm tucked under Promtpo's backside to keep his weight up, but something is out there. He can feel it, somewhere in this tower is the King and friend he needs to find, the man he needs to kill, and the crystal that is the last hope to save them all. "...we'll deal with him last. Noct and Iggy first, crystal next."
Prompto's legs tighten around Gladio for a moment as they round a corner and he holds his breath, half-expecting to find a lurching MT on the other side. "I like the sound of that plan."
And at first he wants to keep his mouth shut because the cowardly part of him doesn't want to buck up. After the first few corners and eerily empty halls, Prompto starts spooking, thinking about what could be around the next corner, the creak and groan that could be a daemon, and he just knows he can't sit on this. He taps Gladio on the chest with his fingers to indicate he should hold up, slow down for a sec. Now that he's free of the fun rack and the Niff curative has cleared his head a bit, numbed the worst of his injuries to an ache, and he figures he better spit it out now than later. For all he knows, there might not even be a later.
"It's about Ardyn," Prompto's voice cracks before he swallows and tries again. "He's...different. Like not just weird, stalkery, totally got issues different." It's a struggle to put on his finger on it, put it in words even though he knows what he saw. What he did. Why he realized that he wasn't getting out of here on his own steam.
"Way back when he brought me here, he tricked me. Made me think I could escape when they still had guards," Prompto sounds bitter now, angry he'd even fallen for it but knowing he'd probably make the same mistake again even though he knows better. "I was desperate, I - I stabbed him...and he laughed it off. Dude didn't even blink."
When the tap to his chest comes, Gladio glances out of the corner of his eye but he does come to a stop. There's something important, hopefully what he asked about, that he damn well doesn't want interrupted by a daemon or an MT, plus he can get some of his breath back. He's moving as quickly as he dares with Prompto's weight and the very real knowledge that in this damn maze he might miss Noct and Ignis by seconds. His head tilts, listening closely.
Shit. That is not what he wanted to hear. They're all damn well aware that Ardyn's a madman, though none of them know the absolute extent of it just yet. He remembers Noct rambling on the train about having seen Prompto and Ardyn, a gun drawn, and somehow being tricked and it gives him the willies down into the depths of his soul, like any second he's going to get tricked like that (or like Prompto).
His brows shoot up, then come together hard. "...the hell do you mean, he didn't even blink?" The amount of fear that Prompto must have felt to outright just stab someone, when he damn well knows Prompto is no kind of close-ranged fighter on purpose... "Like you hadn't actually stabbed him at all? It didn't penetrate?" Because those make more sense than the reality his mind hasn't grasped yet.
Prompto thought he'd been scared before. Between all the times they nearly got squashed by giant snakes and had MT dropships stalking them, he figured that hey, he was starting to get a handle on the adrenaline spiking with fear and his heart jumping in his throat.
That was before Ardyn picked him up. Now he knows better.
"I saw the knife go in! He just stood there and laughed!" Prompto's throat clenches as he swallows and he wishes he was making this all up. Problem is, he'd been lucid all the way for that one and he knows what he saw, had it seared into his mind's eye as he replayed it over and over, trying to figure out if there was anything he could've done differently even as he was dragged back to the rack. "He even told me to have a second shot because we're 'friends'."
And he hadn't missed that time, either. Hard to when Ardyn grabbed his hand and guided the knife to his throat and they did it together, basically, and instead of red blood, something thick and black had sprayed out while Ardyn kept smirking. Somehow he doubts Gladio will have much better luck even if he has a giantass sword over a tiny knife.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
it's cool!
He wakes up to the sound of beeping and a set of doors hissing open. Prompto stirs against Gladio, his head lifting as he comes back to the land of the living. The brightness of the dorm's light hits him like a wall, his face scrunching as he makes a low, uncomfortable noise. One hand balls in Gladio's jacket as if he wants to grope for the light switch.
" - that's bright. What's that, the power of the sun?" Prompto chimes up from where he'd been silent against Gladio a few minutes ago, voice still cracking at the edges, slightly stronger than before.
He doesn't exactly squirm out away like a fish, but he does reach up to flop a hand over his eyes to try to shade them, squinting through his eyelashes and wondering how long it'll take to adjust. Spending days - weeks? Who even knows? - cooped up in the dimly lit cells means he finds the safety of the dorm's fluorescents way too hardcore for his tastes.
that icon :( no prompto babu no
"Just keep your eyes closed." From his pocket he pulls out one of the few potions he has left, away from Noct's ability to make more, but he'd found machines full of potions and remedies. Those... he doesn't trust as much as Noct's, so he cracks it open and slides a hand under Prompto's head, nudging the cool edge of the energy drink to his lips. "Need you to drink this for me, got it? Slow and steady. We're safe here." One door to defend and that's locked, so it's about as safe as it's going to get at this point.
His thumb moves softly against the back of Prompto's neck, ignoring the tightness in his chest. If he could do every bit of damage to Ardyn that the madman had done to Prompto... he would do it a thousand times over.
>:D
Maybe more than a friend. They'd kinda left off at a funny place before the train.
Prompto doesn't seem like he wants to deal with the potion. Too much work to swallow. Pulling a face, he starts to turn his head away until Gladio says the magic words. Do it for him. That gets a muted reaction from Prompto in the form of a sigh as he tries to do what he asked. It isn't easy, and he swears half of the drink ends up all over his neck and chest, but some of it makes it into his mouth. It slides down his throat, chilled, sweet and carbonated because that's how the Imperials apparently roll with their versions of potions. Sputters turn to coughs wracking his frame.
He realizes with a start that he's suddenly hanging onto Gladio, his fingers tight around his wrist with a dead man's relentless grip. He knows Gladio can take it and more, no problem. Man's built like a tank. Guilt still wells up and he forces his fingers to unlock, hoping he didn't bruise the guy.
"Let's...try again later," Prompto says weakly. "Could you bring me up to speed?"
he looks so determined and so kicked puppy
If his worry hadn't been as strong as it is, he knows his anger would have lost him in that moment. He pulls his hand back, fighting the urge to clench down physically on what he feels in his head.
At least some of the potion gets in Prompto, and what doesn't won't really go to waste. It'll soak into the skin, repairing damage on the outside, but Gladio knows from the blood around Prompto's lips its the internal damage they have to be more concerned about. One arm stays wrapped around Prompto's body, keeping him close without a second thought. Giving the other the strength he's supposed to have even if he feels so Gods damned helpless right now.
"Let me get your eye?" asks quietly, setting the last bits of the potion in his lap and taking some up on his fingers, gesturing with them towards Prompto's face. At least some of that horrific puffiness he could deal with. "...I can get you up to speed as much as I can, but... there's not a lot of it." And from the frustration that leaks though, Gladio is every kind of angry still on that notion.
accurate!
With his eyes squeezed shut he can't see Gladio gesturing toward his face - there's some kind of animal instinct picking up motion above him, however, and he figures he wants to deal with the swelling on his left side. That was fairly recent, he thinks. Maybe he didn't react the way Ardyn wanted or maybe he did and this was a love tap. At this point it doesn't matter.
Prompto steels himself for the sensation of touch against his face again, tongue flicking out to wet his chapped lips, tasting the sweetened tingle of the Nif potion doing its thing. It tastes...surprisingly good. Like he wouldn't have minded more if he could keep it down. While everything from his teeth to the roots of his hair seems like they're starting to report with what hurts, the knowledge that Gladio's here in the flesh? It somehow lifts everything, makes Prompto feels like he's floating and untouchable and maybe things don't suck as much as he thought. He's becoming almost hyper-aware of Gladio's arm wrapped around him like a shield, the flex of muscle and skin.
He holds still as Gladio works some of the potion across his cheekbone, unable to hide the wince. The curative glistens across swelling skin and it isn't long before the same tingling sets in.
"So what happened? After the train?" His face turns toward Gladio's voice. Maybe in a minute he'll try again cracking his eyes open. At least he'll be able to drink in a friend's face looking down at him, try to gauge where they stand on more than his voice. Prove to him that he can keep up after a breather.
/trying to remember the exact events of play while on less than five hours of sleep
His arm stays strong and firm around Prompto, keeping him close. How can someone feel so damn cold? How long had he been hanging there? It all brings up another lick of rage within him, a fire banked temporarily so that it could become an inferno later, but every bit of damage he finds, every flinch and wince, adds another piece of charcoal. Waiting.
"We couldn't find either of you until suddenly Ignis' five hundredth phone call to Noct actually gets picked up. ...Noct... shit. He tore himself apart. I could hear him on the phone with Iggy." Like a broken wail, the sound of a dying thing, full of fear and anger and guilt. "When we finally stopped, we got the Regalia out and started towards this hellhole. ...the old girl protected us from daemons and explosions and fire and got us here, but only by the skin of our teeth. Served the prince until the end."
A fitting end, in a way, to a car that had seen so much, but not a deserved end.
His fingertips move towards Prompto's arm, hovering above the ragged damaged to a wrist that had been in shackles, but he stops before he makes contact with potion-laden fingers and gives a questioning look. Okay?
looks awesome to me :3
He swallows thickly. "Oh," Prompto says, his voice small. "Man, I don't even know what to say."
Well, aside from the obvious, which is that it sounds like they're hardcore screwed. Iggy and Noct out there, MIA. The Regalia's totaled from the sound of it, the thought hitting him hard when he thinks back to the long trips, the same music stations, Noct catnapping in the car. Turning around and there's Gladio with his face in his latest book, still not puking because apparently the man's incapable of motion sickness. The corners of his eyes prickle. Could be tears. Could be the potion.
He manages to cracked open his left eye a fraction so he can peek out between his eyelashes. Gladio's hovering, looking larger than life, the look on his face almost alien. He's almost never seen the man with that expression; a mix of simmering anger and...fear? Regret?
"Go ahead. I'll try not to punch you in the face," Prompto wheezes and this time he manages to crack a feeble smile even as his breath trembles in anticipation. "Hit me."
The pain before the potion sets in will distract him, at least. He won't have to think about Noct and Iggy, the poor Regalia, Ardyn; all bonuses even though he knows ducking his head like a scared chocobo won't change anything. His grip tightens again on Gladio as he dips his chin and nods.
Oh Prompto, babu...
The bubbles fizz and pop against the raw muscle and rawer skin, swiftly beginning their work. He isn't sure he trusts this stuff the Niffs use, but there's not a lot of choice. This... fake-magic they use, to create things like this, to power their stuff. He doesn't trust any of it, but it's better than leaving Prompto in pain right now.
He wants to know what happened. He wants to know what sins Ardyn has to pay for on top of everything else the man's done so far. He doesn't dare ask Prompto because he has the sliver of an idea of what might have happened and every man has the right to his privacy. ...Still...
"Gonna get you healed up as much as we can... let you rest. I'll keep watch. Noct's going crazy looking for you; he's gotta come through here if I did. He and Iggy can't be that far, because I know they followed at least some of the same path." He takes a breath, looking up to Prompto's face. Somehow, the younger man looks even younger, so damn pale, a crimson spread of hurt across his cheeks. There's a deeper urge to want to protect that rolling in his chest, that wants to keep him safe even though he already failed. Is failing Noct, now.
He knows Noct wouldn't forgive him if he didn't make sure Prompto lived long enough for them to meet, even if the soldier in him says to leave Prompto here, relatively safe, and find his prince.
yessss
He doesn't get the chance.
The curative hits the ugly gashes in his wrist, deep and well on their way to infection with the ragged edges a rainbow of unnatural colors, and it immediately starts foaming. It burns, goes through skin and muscle. Feels like it's dissolving his bone. Prompto suddenly surges up against Gladio with a strangled yelp that could be a curse. His other arm flails out and nearly clocks his friend on the chin as he twists away like he's being electrocuted. The only thing keeping him from rolling right off the bed is the grip Gladio has, strong as always, like an immovable rock. He struggles to jerk himself free from Gladio for a few long moments, as if he could somehow outrun the Nif potion. After awhile the rest of it kicks in and starts leeching out the fire lancing up his arm, replacing it with sweet, sweet numbness.
Prompto visibly relaxes with a sigh that sinks him back into the bed. He blinks rapidly, cracking open his eyes so they're slits through his eyelashes. "I don't want Noct to get himself killed trying to find me. I'll slow you guys down like this."
Even with the potion, it'll take some time to get back to 100%. From the expression on Gladio's face, a mixture of what he thinks might be sadness, maybe pity, Prompto figures things aren't looking awesome. He catches his breath and ignores the potion sizzling away.
"Help me sit up?"
just want to pet him like a chocobo
Innocence. There is an innocence about Prompto that shines through and has helped them all every step of the way to keep their spirits, and their sanity, together. It's not the kind of thing you tell someone, but it's there, something Gladio has wanted to protect because he couldn't in Noct. That innocence had been long gone, but Prompto... brought it back for all of them.
"Gotta do the other one," Gladio murmurs, not quite ready to tackle the other statement. He carefully tugs Prompto up, sliding an arm behind him and in fact just shifting to sit behind him, give him a place to lean against without thinking twice. He has to be the soldier, the one who keeps them going, to keep fighting, because this mission had to succeed. It's bigger than any of them, and even if in the end they all come to hate him but they can make it happen... it's what he has to do. Defend the King, even at the cost of his own. Even from himself. From failure, as much as he can.
do it >:3
For a moment it's nice to sit, half-cradled by Gladio, and enjoy the other man's presence, the feeling of his solid body supporting him like a wall. He lets out a breath, slow, shaking but stronger than before, and hypes himself up for the next round of curative.
Prompto's other arm's drawn tight to his chest out of some instinct, like he can stop what's about to happen just by sheer willpower. Logically he knows Gladio needs to do this. If his other wrist is anything to go by, this is going to be pure bliss after the first few agonizing seconds are out of the way. It's still too bright in the room, his eyes squeezed partially shut as he turns his head so he can catch Gladio out of his peripheral. No new scars he can see (awesome) and while he can see he's pissed about what Ardyn did if that ticking jaw muscle is anything to go by, he's doing that thing where he grits his teeth, squares himself, and keeps on truckin'
"Okay, I'm good," Prompto lies. "Watch out so I don't headbutt you."
Because if the last time was anything to by, he'll make a good shot out of it while Gladio tries to patch him up.
one step at a time. hair pets will come. XD
He's damn proud of how Prompto's handling all of this. He could be broken, angry, scared, and no matter what he is, he's fighting to keep going. Noct needs Prompto, hell they all do, but Gladio knows that like Ignis did, Prompto's got to make that choice to stick with them. Otherwise, the fight won't be in him to keep going through this, but... how they're going to make it to the end, he has no idea. Find the crystal, that's the only path forward he knows right now. Noct has a destiny and for better or worse, they're there to make sure it gets seen through to the end.
Right now, though? Once the pain wears off for Prompto, he might notice that Gladio has let go of his hand and unthinkingly is stroking the skin along his forearm with his thumb, trying to be soothing.
excellent
When the pain subsides, Prompto finds that he's gone limp as he pants softly against Gladio, relief coming with the numbness. Sure, it feels like his wrists are missing and he can't tell if his fingers are moving without glancing down, but he's glad it's over and done with. He shifts against Gladio's chest.
"Thanks, buddy. You did me a solid."
He turns his head, careful, so careful, not to hit Gladio. More than anything he wants to see a friendly face and seeing those long scars slashed across his face, the amber eyes that seem to pull you in even as they're crinkling at the edges with faint laugh lines. He looks up into those eyes, holds them, and he manages a grateful smile up at Gladio that he hopes can say everything words can't.
have some cute and maybe heartbreak
...Hells.
Gladio finds himself immersed in that gaze. Maybe it's the redness around his eyes, on his cheeks, that makes them seem so much brighter, but he finds himself at a loss for words at what he sees there. It's... beautiful. Not a word he uses easily when it comes to another person, but it filters through his mind until he brings up a hand, touching the side of Prompto's face gently, palm against his jaw. He lays their foreheads together without a word, eyes closing as he just... is, just for a minute. Maybe saying something he can't, right now. Maybe never. An apology, for what he's said and done to Prompto in the most immediate and in the past, and probably what will come in the future.
Little do either of them know just how bad it will get all too soon.
It's as weak as he's let himself be since Ravus had cut himself down so easily.
my favorite >:3
Prompto swallows, throat closing up, and it has nothing to do with what Ardyn did or the Nif potion burning. His hand cups Gladio's, his numb fingers dwarfed by the larger man's and, he imagines, warming with his body heat.
"Thank you."
For all of this. For being there. Prompto could run down a whole list of everything he's grateful to Gladio for and none of it seems like it would cover all the bases. He pulls back after a moment, blinking quickly again and this time his eyes are glistening as he reaches up and rubs at his eyes before it's obvious he's tearing up. Probably too late. Maybe he should just bite the bullet and run with that secret moment they have between them. Prompto focuses on Gladio, drinking in every detail of his face, the smudges of dirt, the new scar slashed across his forehead that he still hasn't explained, and he runs with it:
"Gladio, I was thinking - "
And because they can't have anything nice, that's exactly when the dorm's intercom system buzzes on and Ardyn's voice purrs through the static:
"It's so very heartwarming to see a reunion between friends."
Is it bad my mind went 'AND BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE!' on that last line? XD
Prompto would be front and center to feel every inch of Gladio as the man tenses. It's like a ripple through his body as Gladio's anger surges hot through him, his head snapping up and glaring angrily upwards towards nothing in particular, but he knows there are Gods damned cameras around. His body language screams of rage, but also protectiveness as he shifts himself slightly to put his body between Prompto and the door, keeping him close.
Unlike Noct and Ignis, elsewhere, Gladio had heard nothing of Ardyn's little fun speeches and torments as he'd moved through the Tower. Too unimportant, he might have guessed, so he growls under his breath like a behemoth before he snaps out, "if I get my hands on you, there won't be anything left!"
NOPE that is perfect
“That would be interesting to see, no doubt: maybe I’ll drop by for a visit. Between friends, you understand, just you and me and maybe Prompto if he’s feeling up to it.”
Prompto’s gone even paler. The intercom clicks off and it's silent again save for their breathing, his going shallow, Gladio's deep, quicker than before, as if he's prepping to carry his threat out. His throat feels like it's tightened as he swallows thickly before he finds his voice, searching for what to say. His eyes drop from Gladio's face to his hands which look like they've curled into fists, skin stretched tight over his knuckles.
"We probably shouldn't stay in one spot for too long," Prompto says finally. "Makes it easier for Ardyn to come after us."
He dreads the idea of walking again. Getting caught in a room with one exit, watching Ardyn torture Gladio just to keep himself occupied and his mind fresh, and yeah, he dreads that even more. Consider him motivated to get outta here.
What will you do with this, Prom?
But Prompto's in barely any kind of shape, even after the potion. At least the worst around his eye and the ragged flesh of his wrists are handled, but anything past that, he has no idea. He shifts his body, putting his back to Prompto, and he gestured with his chin. "Arms around my neck." Oh yes, he would piggy-back Prompto because it would let them move quick and keep Prompto damn well at his side, out of Ardyn's hands. Long as Prompto could hang on, he could even potentially have his hands free in combat and the kid barely weighed anything for him to worry about.
He needs to find his charge, needs to bring Prompto to him so Noct stops being so singularly minded, needs to know Noct and Ignis are okay.
None of them are, but... alive.
that is a good question
"Yessir," Prompto tries to lighten the mood as he slings his arms around Gladio's neck. The guy's built like a wall but even so, he hopes he doesn't, like, choke the guy after everything they've been through. "Maybe we need another plan of attack? He wants us to be together and doing what he wants seems like...I dunno. It doesn't end awesome."
As much as he aches to see Iggy and Noct - especially Noct, if only to ask him the questions he wishes he could ask privately - he doesn't want to keep following along after Ardyn's carrots. Sure, sometimes it pays off at first but there's always something, always a catch even if it's days down the line. Prompto's grip tightens for a moment as he loops his legs around Gladio's stomach, feeling the hard muscles flex as he stands.
"Feel free to drop my on my ass if you need to," Prompto tries to manage a feeble smile at the back of Gladio's head. He's still got that quasi-mullet going on and if you ask him, it's the best damn mullet in the history of mullets.
Gladio's gonna mention dem wristbands shortly~
"We get into a fight, you hang on for everything you're worth, got it?" He would, in fact, drop Prompto on his ass if he needed to, but he'll make sure he's protected. He'll be protecting Noct by getting Prompto back to him alive because Noct will stop head rushing into everything blindly in his worry. Which is how they ended up separated to begin with, damn it. "We gotta find the other two, then we gotta find out where the crystal is. I've got an idea; I saw the damn thing on a monitor as I was going through this hell hole, but getting there isn't gonna be easy."
Danm right it's the best damn mullet in the hisory of mullets. He pulls that shit off.
He went to the door and opened it, looking down the hallway. Everything's been empty except those MTs that seem completely busted up, but right now it looks like they're alone. "You manage to hang on, I'll give you the first shot on fuckface, okay?" Trying to keep Prompto's head in the game, knowing that the other has to be absolutely exhausted.
ooh
"Yeah...yeah, I guess you're right. We'll hook up with Noct and everything will be better."
Okay, so now he's just saying that, trying to put his best foot forward so Gladio doesn't see the real him.
Prompto's grip tightens around Gladio to show he's got him, since he can't see him pausing and nodding. For a moment he's silent as he peeks out the hallway. Now that he's conscious this time around, he can see that it's abandoned, for the most part. A few sprawled MTs lie here and there, something clutching at his throat as he goes down that rabbit hole and wonders about them. Who they were. How much of that person might've been alive inside the shells, if that was a thing. Horrible to think this, but he's hoping for their own sake whoever fueled the MT? That they're long gone. Casting one last look at the red points of eyes glaring from within the MT's casing, Prompto tears his eyes away.
"About that," Prompto bites his lip before he goes on, "Gladio, I kinda don't think it's that easy. Maybe we should just get to Noct and Iggy and the crystal and call it a day."
Cowardly, maybe, but the idea of Gladio facing up against Ardyn and thinking he'll die like anyone else 'cause he got run through with a bigass blade? It scares the holy hell out of him.
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He isn't a stupid man. He's no Ignis, then again very few people are, but he picks up something that slows his step, a frown coming across his lips. "...Prom, what aren't you telling me?" he growls very quietly the words under his breath, knowing that they're being watched. What does he know about why it wouldn't be that easy? Yeah, fuckface (he's mentally completely ignoring that that man even has a name) has some tricks up his sleeve, but together, they'll figure out a way to handle him. There's nothing political, no reason to hold back. They need to kill him, however or whatever it takes.
This damned place feels endless. He's still on the move, one arm tucked under Promtpo's backside to keep his weight up, but something is out there. He can feel it, somewhere in this tower is the King and friend he needs to find, the man he needs to kill, and the crystal that is the last hope to save them all. "...we'll deal with him last. Noct and Iggy first, crystal next."
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And at first he wants to keep his mouth shut because the cowardly part of him doesn't want to buck up. After the first few corners and eerily empty halls, Prompto starts spooking, thinking about what could be around the next corner, the creak and groan that could be a daemon, and he just knows he can't sit on this. He taps Gladio on the chest with his fingers to indicate he should hold up, slow down for a sec. Now that he's free of the fun rack and the Niff curative has cleared his head a bit, numbed the worst of his injuries to an ache, and he figures he better spit it out now than later. For all he knows, there might not even be a later.
"It's about Ardyn," Prompto's voice cracks before he swallows and tries again. "He's...different. Like not just weird, stalkery, totally got issues different." It's a struggle to put on his finger on it, put it in words even though he knows what he saw. What he did. Why he realized that he wasn't getting out of here on his own steam.
"Way back when he brought me here, he tricked me. Made me think I could escape when they still had guards," Prompto sounds bitter now, angry he'd even fallen for it but knowing he'd probably make the same mistake again even though he knows better. "I was desperate, I - I stabbed him...and he laughed it off. Dude didn't even blink."
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Shit. That is not what he wanted to hear. They're all damn well aware that Ardyn's a madman, though none of them know the absolute extent of it just yet. He remembers Noct rambling on the train about having seen Prompto and Ardyn, a gun drawn, and somehow being tricked and it gives him the willies down into the depths of his soul, like any second he's going to get tricked like that (or like Prompto).
His brows shoot up, then come together hard. "...the hell do you mean, he didn't even blink?" The amount of fear that Prompto must have felt to outright just stab someone, when he damn well knows Prompto is no kind of close-ranged fighter on purpose... "Like you hadn't actually stabbed him at all? It didn't penetrate?" Because those make more sense than the reality his mind hasn't grasped yet.
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That was before Ardyn picked him up. Now he knows better.
"I saw the knife go in! He just stood there and laughed!" Prompto's throat clenches as he swallows and he wishes he was making this all up. Problem is, he'd been lucid all the way for that one and he knows what he saw, had it seared into his mind's eye as he replayed it over and over, trying to figure out if there was anything he could've done differently even as he was dragged back to the rack. "He even told me to have a second shot because we're 'friends'."
And he hadn't missed that time, either. Hard to when Ardyn grabbed his hand and guided the knife to his throat and they did it together, basically, and instead of red blood, something thick and black had sprayed out while Ardyn kept smirking. Somehow he doubts Gladio will have much better luck even if he has a giantass sword over a tiny knife.
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Gotcha! Thanks for the heads up and have fun in Japan!
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Sorry for the default icons and any typos. Phone tag from Japan!
cool! Lemme know if I should change anyhting
Works for me!
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