Prompto Argentum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hashtag_chocobro) wrote2022-12-17 04:29 pm
hashtag_chocobro) wrote2022-12-17 04:29 pm
The Apartment above the Photo Hut; Saturday Evening [12/17].
It was one of those things where, if you squinted at it hard enough, the logic of it may have started to fray along the edges, but, broadly speaking, it made sense. Prompto, unlike so many others these last few days, hadn't simply woken up in Fandom a different version of himself; he hadn't woken up in Fandom at all. So when things were set right again, he was set right back to where he had been: in his bed, seemingly safe.
Or maybe it was the last moments experienced by his other self that carried him to this place now: in his mindless, blood-thirsty, Starscourge-tainted haze, he remembered Ardyn giving him orders ("Take down the smaller one; I want him to see exactly what you're capable of."), and lunging for Ignis, taking him down, tearing into him. The battle that ensued was a blur, up until, suddenly, it wasn't. There was a flash of steel, a deep, burning sensation across his chest, a sort of shock and surprise, because it didn't even really hurt, not compared to everything he'd been put through to get him to that point, and then...nothing.
But now...this.
Pulled into consciousness again, out of sleep, or that's what it seemed like, that's what it had to have been, right?, with a sudden gasp, a startled gasp, and then, immediately, choking down the scream that wanted to escape him, because he knew, almost before knowing anything else, that he couldn't wake Liz. But he didn't even have time to see if he had, or if she was even there in the bed beside him, because, unlike most times one of his decade-long nightmares caught up with him, it was quickly followed by a wave of remembering everything that had happened in this one, and then the subsequent wave of nausea that followed in its wake. The pain, the suffering, the things done to him and the things he'd done to others, rushing over him so powerfully that all he could do was scramble desperately out of the bed and fumble his way quickly toward the bathroom, just praying that he made it before all the vile and vomit began to spew out from him.
Thankfully, he did. It spilled out of him and it felt like it would never stop, but once it finally did, he let out a desperate sob and slumped against the wall, on the floor, wiping a hand across his mouth as if that would do any good, and already desperately trying to think of some excuse, in case he did end up disturbing Liz, and she started to worry or wonder what was wrong, so he could try to pass it off as just something he ate, maybe, and not just that, out of all the nightmares he'd had, ever since Niflheim, none of them had felt as visceral or real as this one, less like a dream, more like that it had actually happened, so much so that he found himself groping at his chest with one hand, half-expecting to find blood and a gaping wound from the flash of Ignis' sword...
Ignis' sword...? It had been the sleek, long Genji blade, too, the one Gladio had earned in the Trial of Gilgamesh. And at one point, he'd ripped Ignis' shirt in the fight, revealing a splash of tattooed feathers and a sharp eagle's eye. And Ignis could see again, too. Remembering those details actually help him breath better now, deep and shallow and trying to calm himself down. It had to be a dream, then, right? His brain must have somehow merged Ignis with Gladio in the dream, and that was why...That just meant...
Hand now covering his eyes, breathing now coming easier, albeit still in shaky gasps and exhales, Prompto just waited for it all to pass, until another wave of nausea hit and put him right back over the toilet again.
[[ for liz, of course <3 ]]
Or maybe it was the last moments experienced by his other self that carried him to this place now: in his mindless, blood-thirsty, Starscourge-tainted haze, he remembered Ardyn giving him orders ("Take down the smaller one; I want him to see exactly what you're capable of."), and lunging for Ignis, taking him down, tearing into him. The battle that ensued was a blur, up until, suddenly, it wasn't. There was a flash of steel, a deep, burning sensation across his chest, a sort of shock and surprise, because it didn't even really hurt, not compared to everything he'd been put through to get him to that point, and then...nothing.
But now...this.
Pulled into consciousness again, out of sleep, or that's what it seemed like, that's what it had to have been, right?, with a sudden gasp, a startled gasp, and then, immediately, choking down the scream that wanted to escape him, because he knew, almost before knowing anything else, that he couldn't wake Liz. But he didn't even have time to see if he had, or if she was even there in the bed beside him, because, unlike most times one of his decade-long nightmares caught up with him, it was quickly followed by a wave of remembering everything that had happened in this one, and then the subsequent wave of nausea that followed in its wake. The pain, the suffering, the things done to him and the things he'd done to others, rushing over him so powerfully that all he could do was scramble desperately out of the bed and fumble his way quickly toward the bathroom, just praying that he made it before all the vile and vomit began to spew out from him.
Thankfully, he did. It spilled out of him and it felt like it would never stop, but once it finally did, he let out a desperate sob and slumped against the wall, on the floor, wiping a hand across his mouth as if that would do any good, and already desperately trying to think of some excuse, in case he did end up disturbing Liz, and she started to worry or wonder what was wrong, so he could try to pass it off as just something he ate, maybe, and not just that, out of all the nightmares he'd had, ever since Niflheim, none of them had felt as visceral or real as this one, less like a dream, more like that it had actually happened, so much so that he found himself groping at his chest with one hand, half-expecting to find blood and a gaping wound from the flash of Ignis' sword...
Ignis' sword...? It had been the sleek, long Genji blade, too, the one Gladio had earned in the Trial of Gilgamesh. And at one point, he'd ripped Ignis' shirt in the fight, revealing a splash of tattooed feathers and a sharp eagle's eye. And Ignis could see again, too. Remembering those details actually help him breath better now, deep and shallow and trying to calm himself down. It had to be a dream, then, right? His brain must have somehow merged Ignis with Gladio in the dream, and that was why...That just meant...
Hand now covering his eyes, breathing now coming easier, albeit still in shaky gasps and exhales, Prompto just waited for it all to pass, until another wave of nausea hit and put him right back over the toilet again.
[[ for liz, of course <3 ]]
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She clung tightly to him, “I know,” she said softly, feeling like that was the only thing she could say as well, “you’re here, with me now, I …I thought …” her voice trailed off as she let out a sob, “I thought you might have been stuck again,” she admitted softly, “I …I was so scared,”
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And if Liz was scared by just him seemingly disappearing, what would she have felt if she actually saw him? What he'd become? What he was probably meant to be all along?
He did a poor job of suppressing a shudder, scrambled for something to say.
"I wasn't stuck," he started, because while that wasn't the whole of it, there was a kernel of reassurance in there, too, right? "I...I was actually here, a few times, but I wasn't...me."
That wasn't me.
He had to remind himself of that. That wasn't him. That wasn't who he was, even if it was what he had been 'born' to be...
That wasn't me. That's not me. It isn't who I am.
"It's...." he added shakily, "complicated. I don't even know if I get it, but it doesn't matter. It's over now. That's all that matters..."
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Her voice trailed off, “I thought I was imagining everything,”
It was why she had been so desperate to cling to the notion that the last few days had all been just a bad dream.
“I missed you so much,” she let out a sob.
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...was exactly what he was created to be.
"...was just some Nif, I guess."
Not exactly, but the less he had to recount about what he'd actually been these last few days, the better.
"But," his hand stalled for a moment, embracing her again, in a squeeze, before he pulled back enough to look at her as he said this next part, "that doesn't matter. It's over now. I'm back..."
And, knowing it was a risk, but figuring it would be worth it if it worked to ease some of that distress out of her, he added, with a faint smile, "And it didn't even take me nearly as long this time, either."
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“Sorry,” she managed in between her sobs, “I’m …I missed you, I’m …I …” she had to slow down her thoughts and remember how to breathe. “Sorry,” she said quietly again.
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And probably that one, as well.
He shifted a little, freeing his hands so that, when he looked at Liz,he could gently brush her hair back out of that tear-stained face.
"But I'm here now," he reminded her. "And I'm not going anywhere. Everything's fine. It was just another weird Fandom thing, okay?"
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He wanted to add another kiss (probably several more) to her lips, but the last thing she needed right now was a post-vomit kiss.
"So much."
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“I’ve missed this, I’ve missed us,” she said quietly, “it … it was lonely here without you,” she paused and then added, “Rain missed you as well,”