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31_days2022-12-31 03:08 pm
grains_of_saturn) wrote in 31_days2022-12-31 03:08 pm
[Amnesty Day] [Final Fantasy XV] Prayer To A Death Wish
Title: prayer to a death wish
Day/Prompt: January 28th 2021, "touch without leaving traces, scar me in hidden places"
Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Character/Pairing: Ardyn/Prompto
Rating/Warning(s): PG-13, FFXV spoilers
Word Count: 4011
Summary: Prompto long since stopped paying attention to his scars, but Ardyn notices every single one of them.
Sometimes, Prompto would wonder if, perhaps, the Citadel was the safest place under the darkened sky; that thought didn't come as any particular comfort, even as he walked its halls and corridors. That wasn't to say that Lestallum didn't still sit as a bright beacon, visible for miles around - but light relied on electricity relied on meteorshards relied on Prompto hardly knew what, and for as long as the power plant had tirelessly done its job without fault, Prompto couldn't help but feel misgivings about thoughtlessly relying on anything, anymore. Certainly, he knew that he didn't know a lot about the day-to-day inner workings of the power plant, and trusted the workers of Exineris to do the best job they could, day in, day out. (But, that wasn't to say that other things couldn't happen. If pressed, Prompto likely couldn't have given a specific - but that's the thing about things that are unexpected, isn't it? You're not expecting them. That's the whole point.)
Lestallum - and the outposts between it and Insomnia - were safe, and would be until which point that they weren't, at which point anybody in those areas would have more immediate concerns on their hands. Just take each day as it comes. He knew that he'd heard that said enough times, and had likely repeated it just as many times to others. Worry about anything immediate, and put aside any potential what-ifs to deal with when they happened, and not before. For now, the outposts held. For now, the power plant produced enough light to hold back the daemons. For now, the combined strength of the Hunters and the Glaives were enough to keep the people safe. For now.
The Citadel held within it the greatest threat to the world, as things currently stood. Even with outposts set up within Insomnia itself, the concentration of daemons surrounding the Citadel was enough to dissuade even the most reckless - and then, inside, Ardyn. Few ever saw him, but that only made the whispers louder when he was seen. Having razed the city, he seemed content to stay under cover of the Citadel, and anybody asked likely would have found no argument with that arrangement; there was enough to deal with between the daemons and the darkness without any unfortunate reconnaissance group coming across him all of a sudden. Ardyn was the figurehead of the danger they faced, the representation of everything that had gone wrong with the world. He was dangerous beyond measure, and Prompto knew that - and as such, there was almost something comforting about walking the halls with him, knowing that, keeping it in mind. It can't get more dangerous than this. Ardyn would turn to him, smiling, holding a door open. This is as dangerous as it gets.
(... But that's not strictly true, is it?)
Even within the Citadel, footsteps heavy enough to shake floors and inhuman roars would echo, sounding near enough that Prompto would flinch and turn to face the sound - but he would feel Ardyn's hand on his shoulder and turn to him, then, seeing only encouragement to carry on walking. Daemons were everywhere now, and yet Ardyn could sit untroubled by them, wherever he chose. Prompto would hear them as they walked, but never saw a single one. "I don't like to be disturbed," Ardyn would say, and that, Prompto supposed, was some strange sort of protection that he could lean into.
He could turn at any time, though. Prompto knew that. Fated for despair and taken by a rage that he reflected out upon the world, consumed enough by daemonic energy to become a demon himself - and Prompto had seen that, at times. At Gralea. In Zegnautus. The everpresent hatred that burnt behind any pleasant facade Ardyn chose to show, undisguised and terrifying. Prompto wondered what restraint was even left within Ardyn, now - he didn't know what it was, but knew it was all that remained between Ardyn entertaining his presence or suddenly not; the difference between honeyed words anticipating his future return and the potential for Ardyn to cut him down in an instant, so as to never have to put up with him ever again. The latter, of course, hadn't happened - yet. Ardyn still smiled, still seemed to view his visits with affected surprise and delight, as if the world wasn't how it was and Ardyn wasn't how he was and Prompto had just dropped by, out of nowhere, on a whim.
In reality, it took a lot more than that. Acting alone was certainly discouraged, and Prompto knew that his absence would be noted - but only that, because what more could be done about it? Everyone else had their hands full enough protecting the outposts. Iris always worried. She'd seem angry, for a moment, which would melt away into relief to see him safe, and then frustration - "You're always doing this, Prompto...! Do I have to get Gladdy to keep tabs on you, or what!? You're always just--... going...! Where is it you even go?!"
"Oh... you know. Out and about."
"No, I don't know, and that's the point--!"
Prompto hated that it made her worry, but knew that he couldn't explain it to her and he couldn't stop, and so, there wasn't much else they could do. And Cor would take him to one side, "... She's not really angry, you know."
"Yeah. I know."
"She just... gets worried." In another time - so long as felt like a lifetime ago - Prompto was sure that Cor's reaction would have been far stricter, terse words and no sympathy for those who'd break rank. A time where Prompto would have done anything to avoid being admonished by Cor of all people - but things were different now, and Prompto had his reasons. And Cor would look at him with concerned eyes, expression falling while trying to adjust to a position he'd never been suited to - understanding the rules but, also, why somebody might be driven to break them. "... You shouldn't go out by yourself."
"... I know."
Like preprepared lines, he knew. And Cor had said them before, and would say them again. Perhaps, at some point, Cor would lose his patience - or perhaps his patience had been lost long ago, and resignation was all that was left. Recognition of the fact that Prompto - or any Hunter, any Glaive, anyone - could step beyond the safety of the outposts at any moment, and that responsibility would fall to them and them alone. Prompto knew that he shouldn't go out by himself, but did so anyway. Who could stop him? He certainly couldn't stop himself.
As he lay back against one of the cushioned benches in some forgotten antechamber of the Citadel, chest bared and with Ardyn's fingers stroking down to his abdomen, Prompto would wonder what they - they, all the others he'd somehow managed to coerce into being worried about him - would think. Maybe Iris would finally get actually angry, after all. Maybe they'd regret ever having worried for him to begin with. I'd deserve that, Prompto thought. He didn't have the words to explain how or why it was that he'd make his way to the Citadel - only that he did, and it was somewhere none would try to follow him, and he'd meet with Ardyn, and that was simply how things were. Running his hand over a flame, just waiting to get burnt.
"And what have we here...?" The question could have been rhetorical, but after a few seconds it became evident that Ardyn was expecting an answer. "... Prompto."
"-- Huh?"
"Your mind seems to be elsewhere. I could take great offence to that, if I so chose."
Ardyn's tone was light, but the threat remained. Prompto scrabbled to sit up straight against the wall, shaking his head as if shaking his thoughts away. "S-sorry. I just--... sorry."
"No, no." Ardyn didn't move his fingers from where they'd stilled over Prompto's stomach. "I'm sure you must have so many things on your mind at any given time. I only wondered - where did this come from?" Moving his right hand, Ardyn then stroked the length of a scar - barely approaching three inches - that curved down across Prompto's skin.
To be asked of it, Prompto hardly remembered; fighting against the daemons brought with it its routine dangers, and he practically considered it a victory in itself if he was able to escape any given skirmish completely unscathed. Nonetheless, he knew that it was better for him - and any who he might have been fighting alongside - to keep his distance, to snipe from afar when at all possible. This wasn't always possible, and as such, he'd often find himself patched up and bandaged from time to time. So long as he had means to escape and was still capable of firing his weapon, any other bumps and scrapes paled to insignificance. Regardless, that wasn't to say he'd never sustained injury enough to bear scars, although he supposed his metric to measure what really counted as a scar somewhat skewed. He remembered first seeing Gladio's scars, and hearing the stories behind them, and secretly wondering how terrible a wound would have to be to give scars like that. That Gladio could be so casual about them seemed amazing in itself, certainly back then. Back before any of them had had to think of fighting as a daily way of life, as something unavoidable.
Prompto had his scars, although nothing so dramatic as Gladio had ever sustained. He'd catch sight of them in mirrors, acknowledge their existence, and give little further thought to them beyond that. If there's a scar, that means that it's healed, right? That's the most important thing. To be asked of the origin of a particular scar sent his mind racing; when had he got it? Where from? It had to have been a daemon, but...
"... I don't really remember. I mean, some fight against daemons sometime, but... that's basically every day, so..."
"Battle-worn, battle-scarred. Why, I barely even recognize you, some days."
"I--... I wouldn't say that."
"Wouldn't you? Fighting so much that it all blends together, taking on wounds that you don't even remember... what else might you call it?"
"Just--... I don't know. Doing what we gotta do."
"Of course." Once again, Ardyn ran one finger slowly over the scar. "It's only my surprise on seeing something new, you understand - and to think, has it really been that long since we last saw one another? Scars don't develop overnight, I dare say. How long has it been, I wonder...?"
That was another question that could have been rhetorical, but Prompto had no doubt that Ardyn knew precisely how long it had been and held no qualms about parading that knowledge to his advantage. Prompto simply wasn't sure; time still passed, but with no way to easily judge the comings and goings of day or night, it became difficult to define the passing of time without paying close attention to it. Routine was important, and he would do his best to stick to that while in the populated areas - but hours and days ran easily into one another and it was easier to think of remembered incidents than it was to say anything so definite as this week or last month or any day in particular. Since his last visit to the Citadel, there had been requests, favors, missions - Prompto probably could have recalled the sequence of events if he were to truly concentrate, but he couldn't help but doubt Ardyn having any true interest in the specifics. How long had it been? Long enough to form scar tissue. Long enough for Ardyn to notice, and to draw attention to it.
"... I guess it really has been a while, huh."
"And I do get so lonely, otherwise - these daemons, not much for conversation, I have to say."
"Y-yeah, well." It was easy to feel wrong-footed by a statement like that, even when made in some sort of jest - or especially when made in some sort of jest. Prompto faltered, glancing to the side. "Not the easiest place to get to, these days."
"I was going to say, I don't think I make myself particularly difficult to find - I really don't get out much, these days. Still, you spend most of your time at Lestallum, do you not?"
Lestallum, Hammerhead, anywhere in between. (Again, Prompto wasn't sure that Ardyn was really looking for exhaustive detail.) "... Pretty much. It's kind of a long journey, what with all the daemons. You know how it is."
"Oh, indeed. They do like to make a nuisance of themselves, don't they?" Gazing up to secure eye contact once more, Ardyn dropped his focus from Prompto's abdomen, shifting up against the bench to press their bodies together. "Perhaps I'm being selfish, simply sitting back and expecting you to come here all the time. Your place or mine... isn't that what they say? We could make it your place, if you like. It's been quite some time since I last set eyes on the tourist spots of Lestallum... although I imagine it must have changed, somewhat, in that time. All the more reason to visit, though, surely?"
That light suggestion sent a hot panic running through Prompto's mind. He - and Ignis, and Gladio - had impressed upon anybody who fancied a shot at Ardyn just how impossible a prospect that actually was, but he also felt sure that there wasn't a single person beneath the light of Lestallum who wouldn't risk a chance, just for the slightest outside possibility of being the one who could take Ardyn down once and for all. Any number of them could try, and Prompto knew that whoever attempted, without exception, would pay for that action with their lives.
Could Ardyn just walk up to Lestallum, breach its defenses, and walk inside? Prompto didn't know. Everything, as it was, was set up to protect against the presence of daemons - but Ardyn was something different entirely, and Prompto felt uneasy at even the thought of testing just how brittle their security really was.
"... Or Hammerhead is closer, I believe. There's an outpost there, isn't there? Even in the middle of the desert, you persist. I do admire you for that. And I believe that to be a known etiquette, is it not? To meet up at a point equidistant to that between the two origin points... one can't be so pedantic as to measure precise distance, not in a time like this. For the sake of argument, let's agree that Hammerhead is an adequate midpoint. Would you like for me to meet you there...?"
Prompto tried to keep his tone casual, as if convincing Ardyn out of this train of thought wasn't something that could have a potentially fatal outcome for the residents and protectors of those outposts were he to fail. "You--... don't need to do any of that. Really, you don't. I--... I don't--... I don't mind coming here."
"I see. If you're sure, then. If you want to put the effort in, then I can hardly argue with that, can I?" (For a moment, Prompto almost thought that he'd managed to get away with it.) "Although... I sometimes see those people you're with, running around the city. There's an outpost quite near to here, isn't there? Though, to think of it, that too would be some distance for you to travel. If you're there, you might as well take the extra time to come here... don't you think?"
Even under the gloomy light that only just managed to illuminate the room, Prompto felt that any indecision on his face would be immediately visible; pressed down against the bench by Ardyn's hold, he knew there was little else he could do than to offer a distraction - or as much as the inevitable endpoint of their encounters could be considered a distraction. Bringing still-clothed legs up to hook up and over Ardyn's hips, Prompto tried to suppress a shaking breath as he closed the distance between them. "... It's--... better if it's here. I prefer it."
"Oh? Interesting. Although, I suppose... of course, how often would it be that your common citizen of the Crown would have opportunity to visit here? And now, you can come and go as you please - daemons notwithstanding."
"... R-right. And you said you don't like being disturbed, right? Those outposts, you know... pretty busy these days..."
"You're right, of course. Busy places, full of people who, I'm quite sure, would enjoy the prospect of my demise. And if I were to be attacked, and were to strike out in some form of self-defense, who could say what might happen?"
"I--..." Of course he'd have thought of that too. Of course he would.
"Then, perhaps we can form an agreement on some sort of a promise, instead."
Prompto closed his eyes with a sigh. "Because you're just that trustworthy, huh...?"
"Come, now. Don't be like that. Have I ever said anything that I haven't truly meant?" (Prompto opened his eyes again, his gaze steady, almost confrontational.) "... Regardless. Simply--" Ardyn brought his hand up to cup Prompto's cheek, a disarmingly tender gesture (under the circumstances). "--I would be displeased if you were to return here bearing any more scars of the battlefield. As much as you might try to pass it off... it takes a deep wound to cause a scar, does it not? Something quite significant. For you to be hurt so means that somebody isn't doing their job, wouldn't you say? Roving bands of Hunters, all tasked with protecting one another... or whatever it is that you all do together."
"I think I'd probably blame the daemons and mutated wildlife we're up against before anyone I'm travelling with, to be honest."
Ardyn narrowed his eyes, his expression inscrutable. "All I ask is for you to take care of yourself." Leaning down, he pressed their foreheads together, his voice a whisper. "I'd hate to think of you hurting, after all."
and where else on all of Eos was safer--
where else more dangerous than--
-----
The Kingsglaive Base Camp was small enough a space that Prompto knew he couldn't avoid Cor's notice for very long; if he'd wanted to avoid it entirely then taking the straight path back to Lestallum would have been the better choice, but he knew there was little point in trying to put off the inevitable. And Cor simply sat down alongside Prompto, folding his arms, letting the silence settle between them. Prompto ran through the limited list of possible things Cor was likely to say, wondering if, at any point, anybody would demand an explanation for his actions. (Wondering what he'd say if that ever actually happened. Despite thinking about it at length, he'd never been able to come up with a passable answer.)
"... Is your phone broken?"
"Huh?" Prompto's hand went to his pocket, on reflex. "Shouldn't be. Why?"
"Is it charged?"
Pulling it out of his pocket, Prompto lit the display to check. "43%. Guess I better think about plugging it in somewhere."
"Phone Iris first. It shouldn't take that much to let her know you're still alive."
"Right. ...Right. I'll... get on that."
Silence, again. Cor drew breath, as if to speak - and then thought better of it. He then gave an irritable sigh, turning to face Prompto.
"You'll get yourself killed, one of these days."
"Seems like I've managed to pull through up to now." Prompto slipped his phone away. "Aren't you going to ask me where I've been?"
"I'm not here to parent you. You're an adult, aren't you? I assume you've got your reasons."
"Hmn."
"Just--..." Unfolding his arms, Cor then leant forward, clasping his hands together tightly and not looking directly at Prompto as he spoke. "... I've said it enough times. I know I can't change your mind. Only--... try to stick around long enough that I'm not the one having to explain your absence to King Noctis."
Prompto's immediate reaction to that was to think low blow there much-- but he knew that Cor didn't mean that as an accusation as much as he simply meant it the truth, and the sight of Cor continuing to not look at him was enough to prevent Prompto from blurting that thought out loud - because it was true, wasn't it? And if not Cor, it would be somebody - it would be somebody, because Noctis would return, there was no doubt of that. (Each day felt endless while somehow enough time had already passed for it to be years and yet Prompto didn't doubt because he couldn't - if he were to start doubting, what then?)
"You think I'd let myself go down that easily? Whenever it is, wherever it is, the moment he comes back, I'm there."
Cor did turn his gaze towards Prompto then, just for a moment. "You can hide it under bravado all you want, but that won't protect you from rash decisions." He stood up then, as if briskly declaring an end to the conversation. "Just don't die out there. That's all I'm asking."
"I--..." (It would have been easy to try to brush that sentiment off, to try to pretend like they didn't carry that weight with them every time they left the settlements - but Prompto knew Cor to be sincere to a fault, and felt that he should at least try to respond in kind.) "I know. Hey, same to you, right? You're gonna be right there alongside all of us."
"... Of course."
Prompto didn't feel entirely convinced by Cor's tone, but also didn't feel that he wanted to make that an issue. Cor nodded to him, and made as if to leave - but Prompto couldn't help that small nagging awkwardness that still gnawed at him. "Wait, uh--..."
"What is it?"
"I'm... sorry."
It seemed as if those words surprised Cor somewhat. His expression softened slightly, and he shook his head. "Like I said... I assume you've got your reasons. I guess we all do, don't we? But if you said that to Iris, then... she'd probably be happy to hear that. I'm not saying you need to head off to Lestallum right this instant, just... keep her in mind. That's all."
That the conclusion to their conversation had been agreeable should have brought comfort, Prompto knew that - but he also knew how fragile everything was, and that his reasons were no real reason at all, and if anybody were to know--... there was no excuse he could give, no apology, no reason for forgiveness. Each of those conversations built up and up, feeling like lying each time, the status quo only held by the fact that Ardyn seemed content to stay in place - for now, at least. That would last for as long as Prompto was of some use to Ardyn, of some interest; he knew that that couldn't hold forever, and then what...? He didn't want to think about it. He barely knew how to think about it. Ardyn was so unpredictable it was impossible to say what shape that outcome would take, only to know that it would take, eventually. Eventually. Not right now.
For now, there's nothing to worry about.
Prompto remained in place for some time after Cor left, weighing over the strange similarity in what Ardyn had said to him previously with what Cor had just told him - but felt too exhausted to do anything other than note the coincidence. He pulled his phone out once more and brought up Iris's number, staring at it on the screen, thumb hovering over the green button.
Day/Prompt: January 28th 2021, "touch without leaving traces, scar me in hidden places"
Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Character/Pairing: Ardyn/Prompto
Rating/Warning(s): PG-13, FFXV spoilers
Word Count: 4011
Summary: Prompto long since stopped paying attention to his scars, but Ardyn notices every single one of them.
Sometimes, Prompto would wonder if, perhaps, the Citadel was the safest place under the darkened sky; that thought didn't come as any particular comfort, even as he walked its halls and corridors. That wasn't to say that Lestallum didn't still sit as a bright beacon, visible for miles around - but light relied on electricity relied on meteorshards relied on Prompto hardly knew what, and for as long as the power plant had tirelessly done its job without fault, Prompto couldn't help but feel misgivings about thoughtlessly relying on anything, anymore. Certainly, he knew that he didn't know a lot about the day-to-day inner workings of the power plant, and trusted the workers of Exineris to do the best job they could, day in, day out. (But, that wasn't to say that other things couldn't happen. If pressed, Prompto likely couldn't have given a specific - but that's the thing about things that are unexpected, isn't it? You're not expecting them. That's the whole point.)
Lestallum - and the outposts between it and Insomnia - were safe, and would be until which point that they weren't, at which point anybody in those areas would have more immediate concerns on their hands. Just take each day as it comes. He knew that he'd heard that said enough times, and had likely repeated it just as many times to others. Worry about anything immediate, and put aside any potential what-ifs to deal with when they happened, and not before. For now, the outposts held. For now, the power plant produced enough light to hold back the daemons. For now, the combined strength of the Hunters and the Glaives were enough to keep the people safe. For now.
The Citadel held within it the greatest threat to the world, as things currently stood. Even with outposts set up within Insomnia itself, the concentration of daemons surrounding the Citadel was enough to dissuade even the most reckless - and then, inside, Ardyn. Few ever saw him, but that only made the whispers louder when he was seen. Having razed the city, he seemed content to stay under cover of the Citadel, and anybody asked likely would have found no argument with that arrangement; there was enough to deal with between the daemons and the darkness without any unfortunate reconnaissance group coming across him all of a sudden. Ardyn was the figurehead of the danger they faced, the representation of everything that had gone wrong with the world. He was dangerous beyond measure, and Prompto knew that - and as such, there was almost something comforting about walking the halls with him, knowing that, keeping it in mind. It can't get more dangerous than this. Ardyn would turn to him, smiling, holding a door open. This is as dangerous as it gets.
(... But that's not strictly true, is it?)
Even within the Citadel, footsteps heavy enough to shake floors and inhuman roars would echo, sounding near enough that Prompto would flinch and turn to face the sound - but he would feel Ardyn's hand on his shoulder and turn to him, then, seeing only encouragement to carry on walking. Daemons were everywhere now, and yet Ardyn could sit untroubled by them, wherever he chose. Prompto would hear them as they walked, but never saw a single one. "I don't like to be disturbed," Ardyn would say, and that, Prompto supposed, was some strange sort of protection that he could lean into.
He could turn at any time, though. Prompto knew that. Fated for despair and taken by a rage that he reflected out upon the world, consumed enough by daemonic energy to become a demon himself - and Prompto had seen that, at times. At Gralea. In Zegnautus. The everpresent hatred that burnt behind any pleasant facade Ardyn chose to show, undisguised and terrifying. Prompto wondered what restraint was even left within Ardyn, now - he didn't know what it was, but knew it was all that remained between Ardyn entertaining his presence or suddenly not; the difference between honeyed words anticipating his future return and the potential for Ardyn to cut him down in an instant, so as to never have to put up with him ever again. The latter, of course, hadn't happened - yet. Ardyn still smiled, still seemed to view his visits with affected surprise and delight, as if the world wasn't how it was and Ardyn wasn't how he was and Prompto had just dropped by, out of nowhere, on a whim.
In reality, it took a lot more than that. Acting alone was certainly discouraged, and Prompto knew that his absence would be noted - but only that, because what more could be done about it? Everyone else had their hands full enough protecting the outposts. Iris always worried. She'd seem angry, for a moment, which would melt away into relief to see him safe, and then frustration - "You're always doing this, Prompto...! Do I have to get Gladdy to keep tabs on you, or what!? You're always just--... going...! Where is it you even go?!"
"Oh... you know. Out and about."
"No, I don't know, and that's the point--!"
Prompto hated that it made her worry, but knew that he couldn't explain it to her and he couldn't stop, and so, there wasn't much else they could do. And Cor would take him to one side, "... She's not really angry, you know."
"Yeah. I know."
"She just... gets worried." In another time - so long as felt like a lifetime ago - Prompto was sure that Cor's reaction would have been far stricter, terse words and no sympathy for those who'd break rank. A time where Prompto would have done anything to avoid being admonished by Cor of all people - but things were different now, and Prompto had his reasons. And Cor would look at him with concerned eyes, expression falling while trying to adjust to a position he'd never been suited to - understanding the rules but, also, why somebody might be driven to break them. "... You shouldn't go out by yourself."
"... I know."
Like preprepared lines, he knew. And Cor had said them before, and would say them again. Perhaps, at some point, Cor would lose his patience - or perhaps his patience had been lost long ago, and resignation was all that was left. Recognition of the fact that Prompto - or any Hunter, any Glaive, anyone - could step beyond the safety of the outposts at any moment, and that responsibility would fall to them and them alone. Prompto knew that he shouldn't go out by himself, but did so anyway. Who could stop him? He certainly couldn't stop himself.
As he lay back against one of the cushioned benches in some forgotten antechamber of the Citadel, chest bared and with Ardyn's fingers stroking down to his abdomen, Prompto would wonder what they - they, all the others he'd somehow managed to coerce into being worried about him - would think. Maybe Iris would finally get actually angry, after all. Maybe they'd regret ever having worried for him to begin with. I'd deserve that, Prompto thought. He didn't have the words to explain how or why it was that he'd make his way to the Citadel - only that he did, and it was somewhere none would try to follow him, and he'd meet with Ardyn, and that was simply how things were. Running his hand over a flame, just waiting to get burnt.
"And what have we here...?" The question could have been rhetorical, but after a few seconds it became evident that Ardyn was expecting an answer. "... Prompto."
"-- Huh?"
"Your mind seems to be elsewhere. I could take great offence to that, if I so chose."
Ardyn's tone was light, but the threat remained. Prompto scrabbled to sit up straight against the wall, shaking his head as if shaking his thoughts away. "S-sorry. I just--... sorry."
"No, no." Ardyn didn't move his fingers from where they'd stilled over Prompto's stomach. "I'm sure you must have so many things on your mind at any given time. I only wondered - where did this come from?" Moving his right hand, Ardyn then stroked the length of a scar - barely approaching three inches - that curved down across Prompto's skin.
To be asked of it, Prompto hardly remembered; fighting against the daemons brought with it its routine dangers, and he practically considered it a victory in itself if he was able to escape any given skirmish completely unscathed. Nonetheless, he knew that it was better for him - and any who he might have been fighting alongside - to keep his distance, to snipe from afar when at all possible. This wasn't always possible, and as such, he'd often find himself patched up and bandaged from time to time. So long as he had means to escape and was still capable of firing his weapon, any other bumps and scrapes paled to insignificance. Regardless, that wasn't to say he'd never sustained injury enough to bear scars, although he supposed his metric to measure what really counted as a scar somewhat skewed. He remembered first seeing Gladio's scars, and hearing the stories behind them, and secretly wondering how terrible a wound would have to be to give scars like that. That Gladio could be so casual about them seemed amazing in itself, certainly back then. Back before any of them had had to think of fighting as a daily way of life, as something unavoidable.
Prompto had his scars, although nothing so dramatic as Gladio had ever sustained. He'd catch sight of them in mirrors, acknowledge their existence, and give little further thought to them beyond that. If there's a scar, that means that it's healed, right? That's the most important thing. To be asked of the origin of a particular scar sent his mind racing; when had he got it? Where from? It had to have been a daemon, but...
"... I don't really remember. I mean, some fight against daemons sometime, but... that's basically every day, so..."
"Battle-worn, battle-scarred. Why, I barely even recognize you, some days."
"I--... I wouldn't say that."
"Wouldn't you? Fighting so much that it all blends together, taking on wounds that you don't even remember... what else might you call it?"
"Just--... I don't know. Doing what we gotta do."
"Of course." Once again, Ardyn ran one finger slowly over the scar. "It's only my surprise on seeing something new, you understand - and to think, has it really been that long since we last saw one another? Scars don't develop overnight, I dare say. How long has it been, I wonder...?"
That was another question that could have been rhetorical, but Prompto had no doubt that Ardyn knew precisely how long it had been and held no qualms about parading that knowledge to his advantage. Prompto simply wasn't sure; time still passed, but with no way to easily judge the comings and goings of day or night, it became difficult to define the passing of time without paying close attention to it. Routine was important, and he would do his best to stick to that while in the populated areas - but hours and days ran easily into one another and it was easier to think of remembered incidents than it was to say anything so definite as this week or last month or any day in particular. Since his last visit to the Citadel, there had been requests, favors, missions - Prompto probably could have recalled the sequence of events if he were to truly concentrate, but he couldn't help but doubt Ardyn having any true interest in the specifics. How long had it been? Long enough to form scar tissue. Long enough for Ardyn to notice, and to draw attention to it.
"... I guess it really has been a while, huh."
"And I do get so lonely, otherwise - these daemons, not much for conversation, I have to say."
"Y-yeah, well." It was easy to feel wrong-footed by a statement like that, even when made in some sort of jest - or especially when made in some sort of jest. Prompto faltered, glancing to the side. "Not the easiest place to get to, these days."
"I was going to say, I don't think I make myself particularly difficult to find - I really don't get out much, these days. Still, you spend most of your time at Lestallum, do you not?"
Lestallum, Hammerhead, anywhere in between. (Again, Prompto wasn't sure that Ardyn was really looking for exhaustive detail.) "... Pretty much. It's kind of a long journey, what with all the daemons. You know how it is."
"Oh, indeed. They do like to make a nuisance of themselves, don't they?" Gazing up to secure eye contact once more, Ardyn dropped his focus from Prompto's abdomen, shifting up against the bench to press their bodies together. "Perhaps I'm being selfish, simply sitting back and expecting you to come here all the time. Your place or mine... isn't that what they say? We could make it your place, if you like. It's been quite some time since I last set eyes on the tourist spots of Lestallum... although I imagine it must have changed, somewhat, in that time. All the more reason to visit, though, surely?"
That light suggestion sent a hot panic running through Prompto's mind. He - and Ignis, and Gladio - had impressed upon anybody who fancied a shot at Ardyn just how impossible a prospect that actually was, but he also felt sure that there wasn't a single person beneath the light of Lestallum who wouldn't risk a chance, just for the slightest outside possibility of being the one who could take Ardyn down once and for all. Any number of them could try, and Prompto knew that whoever attempted, without exception, would pay for that action with their lives.
Could Ardyn just walk up to Lestallum, breach its defenses, and walk inside? Prompto didn't know. Everything, as it was, was set up to protect against the presence of daemons - but Ardyn was something different entirely, and Prompto felt uneasy at even the thought of testing just how brittle their security really was.
"... Or Hammerhead is closer, I believe. There's an outpost there, isn't there? Even in the middle of the desert, you persist. I do admire you for that. And I believe that to be a known etiquette, is it not? To meet up at a point equidistant to that between the two origin points... one can't be so pedantic as to measure precise distance, not in a time like this. For the sake of argument, let's agree that Hammerhead is an adequate midpoint. Would you like for me to meet you there...?"
Prompto tried to keep his tone casual, as if convincing Ardyn out of this train of thought wasn't something that could have a potentially fatal outcome for the residents and protectors of those outposts were he to fail. "You--... don't need to do any of that. Really, you don't. I--... I don't--... I don't mind coming here."
"I see. If you're sure, then. If you want to put the effort in, then I can hardly argue with that, can I?" (For a moment, Prompto almost thought that he'd managed to get away with it.) "Although... I sometimes see those people you're with, running around the city. There's an outpost quite near to here, isn't there? Though, to think of it, that too would be some distance for you to travel. If you're there, you might as well take the extra time to come here... don't you think?"
Even under the gloomy light that only just managed to illuminate the room, Prompto felt that any indecision on his face would be immediately visible; pressed down against the bench by Ardyn's hold, he knew there was little else he could do than to offer a distraction - or as much as the inevitable endpoint of their encounters could be considered a distraction. Bringing still-clothed legs up to hook up and over Ardyn's hips, Prompto tried to suppress a shaking breath as he closed the distance between them. "... It's--... better if it's here. I prefer it."
"Oh? Interesting. Although, I suppose... of course, how often would it be that your common citizen of the Crown would have opportunity to visit here? And now, you can come and go as you please - daemons notwithstanding."
"... R-right. And you said you don't like being disturbed, right? Those outposts, you know... pretty busy these days..."
"You're right, of course. Busy places, full of people who, I'm quite sure, would enjoy the prospect of my demise. And if I were to be attacked, and were to strike out in some form of self-defense, who could say what might happen?"
"I--..." Of course he'd have thought of that too. Of course he would.
"Then, perhaps we can form an agreement on some sort of a promise, instead."
Prompto closed his eyes with a sigh. "Because you're just that trustworthy, huh...?"
"Come, now. Don't be like that. Have I ever said anything that I haven't truly meant?" (Prompto opened his eyes again, his gaze steady, almost confrontational.) "... Regardless. Simply--" Ardyn brought his hand up to cup Prompto's cheek, a disarmingly tender gesture (under the circumstances). "--I would be displeased if you were to return here bearing any more scars of the battlefield. As much as you might try to pass it off... it takes a deep wound to cause a scar, does it not? Something quite significant. For you to be hurt so means that somebody isn't doing their job, wouldn't you say? Roving bands of Hunters, all tasked with protecting one another... or whatever it is that you all do together."
"I think I'd probably blame the daemons and mutated wildlife we're up against before anyone I'm travelling with, to be honest."
Ardyn narrowed his eyes, his expression inscrutable. "All I ask is for you to take care of yourself." Leaning down, he pressed their foreheads together, his voice a whisper. "I'd hate to think of you hurting, after all."
and where else on all of Eos was safer--
where else more dangerous than--
-----
The Kingsglaive Base Camp was small enough a space that Prompto knew he couldn't avoid Cor's notice for very long; if he'd wanted to avoid it entirely then taking the straight path back to Lestallum would have been the better choice, but he knew there was little point in trying to put off the inevitable. And Cor simply sat down alongside Prompto, folding his arms, letting the silence settle between them. Prompto ran through the limited list of possible things Cor was likely to say, wondering if, at any point, anybody would demand an explanation for his actions. (Wondering what he'd say if that ever actually happened. Despite thinking about it at length, he'd never been able to come up with a passable answer.)
"... Is your phone broken?"
"Huh?" Prompto's hand went to his pocket, on reflex. "Shouldn't be. Why?"
"Is it charged?"
Pulling it out of his pocket, Prompto lit the display to check. "43%. Guess I better think about plugging it in somewhere."
"Phone Iris first. It shouldn't take that much to let her know you're still alive."
"Right. ...Right. I'll... get on that."
Silence, again. Cor drew breath, as if to speak - and then thought better of it. He then gave an irritable sigh, turning to face Prompto.
"You'll get yourself killed, one of these days."
"Seems like I've managed to pull through up to now." Prompto slipped his phone away. "Aren't you going to ask me where I've been?"
"I'm not here to parent you. You're an adult, aren't you? I assume you've got your reasons."
"Hmn."
"Just--..." Unfolding his arms, Cor then leant forward, clasping his hands together tightly and not looking directly at Prompto as he spoke. "... I've said it enough times. I know I can't change your mind. Only--... try to stick around long enough that I'm not the one having to explain your absence to King Noctis."
Prompto's immediate reaction to that was to think low blow there much-- but he knew that Cor didn't mean that as an accusation as much as he simply meant it the truth, and the sight of Cor continuing to not look at him was enough to prevent Prompto from blurting that thought out loud - because it was true, wasn't it? And if not Cor, it would be somebody - it would be somebody, because Noctis would return, there was no doubt of that. (Each day felt endless while somehow enough time had already passed for it to be years and yet Prompto didn't doubt because he couldn't - if he were to start doubting, what then?)
"You think I'd let myself go down that easily? Whenever it is, wherever it is, the moment he comes back, I'm there."
Cor did turn his gaze towards Prompto then, just for a moment. "You can hide it under bravado all you want, but that won't protect you from rash decisions." He stood up then, as if briskly declaring an end to the conversation. "Just don't die out there. That's all I'm asking."
"I--..." (It would have been easy to try to brush that sentiment off, to try to pretend like they didn't carry that weight with them every time they left the settlements - but Prompto knew Cor to be sincere to a fault, and felt that he should at least try to respond in kind.) "I know. Hey, same to you, right? You're gonna be right there alongside all of us."
"... Of course."
Prompto didn't feel entirely convinced by Cor's tone, but also didn't feel that he wanted to make that an issue. Cor nodded to him, and made as if to leave - but Prompto couldn't help that small nagging awkwardness that still gnawed at him. "Wait, uh--..."
"What is it?"
"I'm... sorry."
It seemed as if those words surprised Cor somewhat. His expression softened slightly, and he shook his head. "Like I said... I assume you've got your reasons. I guess we all do, don't we? But if you said that to Iris, then... she'd probably be happy to hear that. I'm not saying you need to head off to Lestallum right this instant, just... keep her in mind. That's all."
That the conclusion to their conversation had been agreeable should have brought comfort, Prompto knew that - but he also knew how fragile everything was, and that his reasons were no real reason at all, and if anybody were to know--... there was no excuse he could give, no apology, no reason for forgiveness. Each of those conversations built up and up, feeling like lying each time, the status quo only held by the fact that Ardyn seemed content to stay in place - for now, at least. That would last for as long as Prompto was of some use to Ardyn, of some interest; he knew that that couldn't hold forever, and then what...? He didn't want to think about it. He barely knew how to think about it. Ardyn was so unpredictable it was impossible to say what shape that outcome would take, only to know that it would take, eventually. Eventually. Not right now.
For now, there's nothing to worry about.
Prompto remained in place for some time after Cor left, weighing over the strange similarity in what Ardyn had said to him previously with what Cor had just told him - but felt too exhausted to do anything other than note the coincidence. He pulled his phone out once more and brought up Iris's number, staring at it on the screen, thumb hovering over the green button.