Prompto Argentum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hashtag_chocobro) wrote2019-06-19 06:47 am
hashtag_chocobro) wrote2019-06-19 06:47 am
Room 303; Wednesday [06/19].
It was happening again.
Prompto was having another dream, another nightmare, fueled by all the things this summer had given him so far. Knowledge of his origins, of what he really was, of what that barcode really meant. Visions of people messed up and lurching, desperate, no longer able to control themselves, no longer really human. But, hey, at least, as far as his recent nightmares had been going, this one wasn't so bad. Usually, the transformation was brutal, violent, forcing his body out of its current shell and into something monstrous, deamonic, in ways that made him wake up with a start, drenched in sweat, needing to throw up, desperately patting his chest, his arms, his face, making sure that he was still Prompto, he was still human, he wasn't something else...
...but this one wasn't like that. He'd just...woken up, different than before, but not like all those other dreams, no changing, no struggle, he just...was. Which almost made it seem kind of nice for a moment, really, until he realized that that wasn't the only thing different about this dream. In the other dreams, he never realized he was dreaming until it was over, there was no realization that all he had to do was wake up and he'd be back in his bed, back to normal (whatever that even was), and it was all...okay.
Suddenly, he felt a tightness clench in his chest with the realization: what if this isn't a dream?
"No," he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head. "No. Nononononononono."
Scrambling off his bed, he rushed to the mirror hanging from his closet door, nearly tripping over his own too feet as he forced himself to look at himself and the changes that he already knew were there, the sweat starting to pour out now without abandon, the panic starting to rise through every inch of his grey-out, black-eyes, ohgodwerethoselittlenubsofhornsunderneathhishair??? self.
"Ohgod," he managed to gasp out, staggering back away from his reflection, hands moving up to confirm, physically, what he saw there. "No...no...no, there's no way. It's still just a dream. I'm still dreaming. It's just a dream. It's a dream....it's got to be a dream, I'm going to wake up any second now, because it's a dream, this isn't really happening, it's a dream, I just gotta wake up. Wake up. PROMPTO! WAKE UP!"
He lifted a hand and slapped himself in his face, as if that could jar him out of this nightmare. It didn't work. So he tried it again. Again. Again. The claws started to dig ruts into his face, but none of it was working to do anything but fill him with dread and anger and fury and horror and scratch up his face...
Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breathdeepbreathsdeepbre--
"Just a dream" he choked out, staggering g back to his bed, dropping into it like a brick and just sitting there in paralyzed terror. "I'm gonna wake up....any minute now, just gotta wake up..."
And until he did, he was just going to crawl right back into that bed, bury himself in blankets, and not come out again until he WOKE THE FUCK UP.
"It's...just another dream. It's okay, it's okay..."
It was not okay.
[[ who doesn't love a little existential torture in the morning, hmmm? Door closed, post open, though he may not be exactly sociable atm! ]]
Prompto was having another dream, another nightmare, fueled by all the things this summer had given him so far. Knowledge of his origins, of what he really was, of what that barcode really meant. Visions of people messed up and lurching, desperate, no longer able to control themselves, no longer really human. But, hey, at least, as far as his recent nightmares had been going, this one wasn't so bad. Usually, the transformation was brutal, violent, forcing his body out of its current shell and into something monstrous, deamonic, in ways that made him wake up with a start, drenched in sweat, needing to throw up, desperately patting his chest, his arms, his face, making sure that he was still Prompto, he was still human, he wasn't something else...
...but this one wasn't like that. He'd just...woken up, different than before, but not like all those other dreams, no changing, no struggle, he just...was. Which almost made it seem kind of nice for a moment, really, until he realized that that wasn't the only thing different about this dream. In the other dreams, he never realized he was dreaming until it was over, there was no realization that all he had to do was wake up and he'd be back in his bed, back to normal (whatever that even was), and it was all...okay.
Suddenly, he felt a tightness clench in his chest with the realization: what if this isn't a dream?
"No," he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head. "No. Nononononononono."
Scrambling off his bed, he rushed to the mirror hanging from his closet door, nearly tripping over his own too feet as he forced himself to look at himself and the changes that he already knew were there, the sweat starting to pour out now without abandon, the panic starting to rise through every inch of his grey-out, black-eyes, ohgodwerethoselittlenubsofhornsunderneathhishair??? self.
"Ohgod," he managed to gasp out, staggering back away from his reflection, hands moving up to confirm, physically, what he saw there. "No...no...no, there's no way. It's still just a dream. I'm still dreaming. It's just a dream. It's a dream....it's got to be a dream, I'm going to wake up any second now, because it's a dream, this isn't really happening, it's a dream, I just gotta wake up. Wake up. PROMPTO! WAKE UP!"
He lifted a hand and slapped himself in his face, as if that could jar him out of this nightmare. It didn't work. So he tried it again. Again. Again. The claws started to dig ruts into his face, but none of it was working to do anything but fill him with dread and anger and fury and horror and scratch up his face...
Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breathdeepbreathsdeepbre--
"Just a dream" he choked out, staggering g back to his bed, dropping into it like a brick and just sitting there in paralyzed terror. "I'm gonna wake up....any minute now, just gotta wake up..."
And until he did, he was just going to crawl right back into that bed, bury himself in blankets, and not come out again until he WOKE THE FUCK UP.
"It's...just another dream. It's okay, it's okay..."
It was not okay.
[[ who doesn't love a little existential torture in the morning, hmmm? Door closed, post open, though he may not be exactly sociable atm! ]]