Your giggling was definitely fine, Liz. A sudden Category 5 Hurricane could have swept through the island right now, and Prompto would have probably slept through it at this point, that perfect combination of warmth and sun and salty sea air seeming to wrap him up in a comfy little cocoon for much needed slumber...
Unfortunately, the internal world was a little more difficult to ignore than the external world, in this instance, and it wasn't actually much longer after that that Prompto had fallen into sleep deeply enough for them to start crawling back out again.
A jangle of images, fusing together. He was in the Niflheim facility where he was born, the corridor of softly glowing tubes with beings that shared his face in various states of growth flanking him as his heavy steps echoed, but when he reached the end of it, he found himself in the throne room at the Citadel, Ardyn lounging in the seat that was rightfully Noct's as if he owned it. No, it wasn't Ardyn, it was Verstaal. No, it was Ardyn. No, it wasn't. Shifting like a glitch until they seemed oddly merged into one. And as he stood there, trying to figure it out, he felt a drip from above. Swiping a hand across his forehead, it revealed a dark smear of blood, and when he lifted his eyes toward the bodies strung up and hanging from the ceiling, he saw--
With a sudden, startled gasp, Prompto was roughly pulled out of his sleep, jerking himself awake, trying to catch his breath, and then almost immediately wincing at the brightness of the sun. It was so bright he could barely even see, which didn't help with trying to remember where he was, why was it so bright, what had happened to--
He breathed out slowly, settling back against the chair with his eyes closed. He'd just fallen asleep. It had just been another dream. He was safe and warm and fine in the Bahamas with his wife on their honeymoon. It was fine, it was fine, it was all fine....
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Unfortunately, the internal world was a little more difficult to ignore than the external world, in this instance, and it wasn't actually much longer after that that Prompto had fallen into sleep deeply enough for them to start crawling back out again.
A jangle of images, fusing together. He was in the Niflheim facility where he was born, the corridor of softly glowing tubes with beings that shared his face in various states of growth flanking him as his heavy steps echoed, but when he reached the end of it, he found himself in the throne room at the Citadel, Ardyn lounging in the seat that was rightfully Noct's as if he owned it. No, it wasn't Ardyn, it was Verstaal. No, it was Ardyn. No, it wasn't. Shifting like a glitch until they seemed oddly merged into one. And as he stood there, trying to figure it out, he felt a drip from above. Swiping a hand across his forehead, it revealed a dark smear of blood, and when he lifted his eyes toward the bodies strung up and hanging from the ceiling, he saw--
With a sudden, startled gasp, Prompto was roughly pulled out of his sleep, jerking himself awake, trying to catch his breath, and then almost immediately wincing at the brightness of the sun. It was so bright he could barely even see, which didn't help with trying to remember where he was, why was it so bright, what had happened to--
He breathed out slowly, settling back against the chair with his eyes closed. He'd just fallen asleep. It had just been another dream. He was safe and warm and fine in the Bahamas with his wife on their honeymoon. It was fine, it was fine, it was all fine....