[look and see, when he woke up from his own pod, or whatever. he frowns, figuring that there's some weird time shenanigans going on, and coming from a world where the whims of the gods and a crystal dictated the life of men, he can't color himself too surprised]
[He tries hard not to wring his hands together, instead telling himself that he's gone through this in his own head. How he would explain this, that Gladio is up there on the station sleeping. That he might wake up, or he might remain sleeping forever -- as good as dead. What did that mean for their return to Eos, if they ever did?]
Sometimes they do. But there are some that have been asleep for a... really long time.
[he hears it in noctis's voice. that underlying, soft tone where he draws his breath in sharply before speaking; a deflation in his syllables, the slight forward slumping of his shoulders, like they weigh more than what meat and bones should. the way his eyebrows crease in contemplation, edging on a sore sense of deprecation and guilt, of sad blue tones under his tongue.]
[though he may never have mentioned anything, prompto knows about the lethargy that dominates his best friend since they were young, how sleeping in wasn't so much about being tired as it was a refusal to face the day.]
[and, if anything of that is anything to go by what prompto knows about noctis, then he knows that however long the last lucian king has been here for has really brought forth all the pain and sadness residing inside, carefully locked away for the sake of duty. it's not the prompto was too stupid to notice; he just hates having to point it out, or recognize it at all.]
...it's Gladio we're talking about. Don't know about anyone else, but our guy's tough as nails, and I think he's got an aversion for sleeping. Just you wait, Noct.
[prompto knocks at his best friend's arm with a closed fist, urging him to look up, at his own smiling face--a bridge for hope he wishes to transmit]
He'll wake up in no time.
[he's made many empty promises over the past ten years, to reassure those succumbing to the eternal night's terrors, or those that miscalculated confrontations with daemons. but he delivers it, still, with an hymn of confidence, of hope.]
You came back, after all. He won't let you best him at the sleeping olympics.
[He's read so easily, he might as well not even try to put on a brave face. But he can't not try, not after that moment in the rain, standing at the steps of the Citadel and looking out upon his friends. He must remain strong, even in the face of losing his purpose to Eos -- he must try to hold his head high even though at times it feels like he might crack under the pressure. He tells himself that being out here in space, alone, was no more difficult than having to give his life away for the sake of a prophecy, for the sake of the light. This was easier. If he told himself that enough, maybe he'd start to believe it.
Besides, it's always feel hard to feel alone when Prompto is nearby. When his best friend is literally hooked into his mind like a tether, one that exudes hope and energy and everything that Noctis feels drained of.
Gods, he missed him.]
Y-yeah. I know. You're right.
[He offers a weak smile, but at least it brightens his eyes a little.]
It's just hard, because he was here for a while, and it felt like... like a part of home came back. And then it was just gone, one day. No warning, he just fell asleep.
[He bites at his lower lip.]
Someone else is asleep, too. Nyx Ulric. A member of the Kingsglaive.
[hates the fact that noctis went through something so similar to them--when noctis was taken in by the crystal, devoured away, without any opportunity to make a plan or say good bye, no other choice but to buckle up courage and wait, however long it'd take, for his return. just gone, in a moment, no warning.]
[and then he came back, like home floating through the chaotic ocean waves. a piece of land to feel centred, to feel--for a moment--like things were just fine, the way they were always before.]
[but it isn't, right? it's never going to quite be that way.]
[prompto lowers his head, shaking it between slumped shoulders, feeling the weight of something heavy and gloomy in his chest, lingering and forcing him to take a deep breath. he only raises his head again when noctis speaks about some nyx ulric, a member of kingsglaive, a unit previously lost to the fall of insomnia but for a few scattered soldiers trying to make the best of it after their king disappeared. prompto remembers them, fallen soldiers and heroic leaders.]
You knew him from before?
[noctis was crown prince. he would know people prompto didn't recognize.]
I met a few back in Lestallum, some years ago. Don't think any of them was called that.
[And there it is, he catches it. That feeling of gloom that Noctis believes simply doesn't... belong within Prompto. Maybe it was naive of him to think that, if he cracked him open, he'd be met with nothing more than glimmering hope in the wake of darkness, but-
Well. It makes Noctis frown. Ten years was such a long time, and what had he done? Slept through most of it. Guilt swells within him, wishing that he could've helped in some way during those times; that he could've lent his blade, rather than sleep in the presence of Bahamut himself, telling him to give his life to bring the light back.]
I...
[Prompto will feel it. That needling question mark upon feeling Prompto's heaviness. He continues speaking somehow.]
We met just once before. He chauffeured me around once.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
somnifacient) wrote2017-03-25 01:39 am
no subject
Really?
[prompto frowns, sitting back, but not too far from noctis]
What happened?
no subject
[A few months in, if he recalled correctly. He still had years left on his docket, something that Noctis was hesitant to really tell him about.]
But then he went comatose. Back to sleep and... he's still back there, on the station. In one of the pods.
no subject
[look and see, when he woke up from his own pod, or whatever. he frowns, figuring that there's some weird time shenanigans going on, and coming from a world where the whims of the gods and a crystal dictated the life of men, he can't color himself too surprised]
What's supposed to happen? Is he gonna wake up?
no subject
[He tries hard not to wring his hands together, instead telling himself that he's gone through this in his own head. How he would explain this, that Gladio is up there on the station sleeping. That he might wake up, or he might remain sleeping forever -- as good as dead. What did that mean for their return to Eos, if they ever did?]
Sometimes they do. But there are some that have been asleep for a... really long time.
no subject
[though he may never have mentioned anything, prompto knows about the lethargy that dominates his best friend since they were young, how sleeping in wasn't so much about being tired as it was a refusal to face the day.]
[and, if anything of that is anything to go by what prompto knows about noctis, then he knows that however long the last lucian king has been here for has really brought forth all the pain and sadness residing inside, carefully locked away for the sake of duty. it's not the prompto was too stupid to notice; he just hates having to point it out, or recognize it at all.]
...it's Gladio we're talking about. Don't know about anyone else, but our guy's tough as nails, and I think he's got an aversion for sleeping. Just you wait, Noct.
[prompto knocks at his best friend's arm with a closed fist, urging him to look up, at his own smiling face--a bridge for hope he wishes to transmit]
He'll wake up in no time.
[he's made many empty promises over the past ten years, to reassure those succumbing to the eternal night's terrors, or those that miscalculated confrontations with daemons. but he delivers it, still, with an hymn of confidence, of hope.]
You came back, after all. He won't let you best him at the sleeping olympics.
no subject
Besides, it's always feel hard to feel alone when Prompto is nearby. When his best friend is literally hooked into his mind like a tether, one that exudes hope and energy and everything that Noctis feels drained of.
Gods, he missed him.]
Y-yeah. I know. You're right.
[He offers a weak smile, but at least it brightens his eyes a little.]
It's just hard, because he was here for a while, and it felt like... like a part of home came back. And then it was just gone, one day. No warning, he just fell asleep.
[He bites at his lower lip.]
Someone else is asleep, too. Nyx Ulric. A member of the Kingsglaive.
no subject
[hates the fact that noctis went through something so similar to them--when noctis was taken in by the crystal, devoured away, without any opportunity to make a plan or say good bye, no other choice but to buckle up courage and wait, however long it'd take, for his return. just gone, in a moment, no warning.]
[and then he came back, like home floating through the chaotic ocean waves. a piece of land to feel centred, to feel--for a moment--like things were just fine, the way they were always before.]
[but it isn't, right? it's never going to quite be that way.]
[prompto lowers his head, shaking it between slumped shoulders, feeling the weight of something heavy and gloomy in his chest, lingering and forcing him to take a deep breath. he only raises his head again when noctis speaks about some nyx ulric, a member of kingsglaive, a unit previously lost to the fall of insomnia but for a few scattered soldiers trying to make the best of it after their king disappeared. prompto remembers them, fallen soldiers and heroic leaders.]
You knew him from before?
[noctis was crown prince. he would know people prompto didn't recognize.]
I met a few back in Lestallum, some years ago. Don't think any of them was called that.
no subject
Well. It makes Noctis frown. Ten years was such a long time, and what had he done? Slept through most of it. Guilt swells within him, wishing that he could've helped in some way during those times; that he could've lent his blade, rather than sleep in the presence of Bahamut himself, telling him to give his life to bring the light back.]
I...
[Prompto will feel it. That needling question mark upon feeling Prompto's heaviness. He continues speaking somehow.]
We met just once before. He chauffeured me around once.
[Simpler times, those.]