It was kind of funny, really, if you thought about it...but not too much. Down that road were very dark things, even darker than the whole world had become. But it felt as though any time there was even the slightest spark of something resembling hope, just as that light started to brighten and glow and offer some semblance of comfort, something would sweep in and extinguish that flame and make things somehow ever worse. At least they'd managed to secure the Hammerhead; after the daemon attack, they'd fortified it, built up the walls and the gates and scoured all the reststops and encampments for extra lighting to rig up and absolutely flood the place. Never again. The Hammerhead would not fall. Cindy Aurum wouldn't allow it.
The communicator had not been so lucky. Once he finally had the chance to recover it, Prompto was left wondering what had even been done to it. Even with his deep, familiar knowledge with the device, it would probably take weeks to put it back together, and then there was the matter of finding another energy source for it. But, maybe, just maybe, it might not matter. If they could get into Insomnia again, find the hubs, figure out how to get the portals back, then they wouldn't even need to communicator...
So they slipped eastward. And while the Empire had crumbled from within at the source up in Niflheim, it appeared as though the faction in Insomnia didn't get the memo. The last remnants of the Empire was still holding out, with Insomnia, ironically, as its new stronghold. Dreadnaughts still clogged the sky; there was no way to even get near the gate to the bridge without being stopped by MTs, there could potential be an approach by water, but even the cover of the constant darkness would by spoiled by the constant sweeping lights along the shore. Not to mention that Insomnia had their own daemons now. If they were going to try to get it, it would require a bit more planning than just a dash across the bridge to sort through the rubble...
So they hadn't made any progress, and were, instead, slightly more worse. Without the sun, days were starting to blur together, but Prompto was trying his best to keep track of the passage of time, even though each day, each week, each month just seemed to feel heavier and heavier. Noctis' birthday had passed, and that hit particularly hard. And now, somehow, almost astonishingly, it was Prompto's.
Not that time seemed to matter anymore. There certainly wasn't anything to celebrate. But while everything had been turned completely upside down, that just made Prompto want to cling to little things that much more.
Which meant it was time for another Sad Birthday Cupcake.
Probably the Saddest Birthday Cupcake Yet.
He could already hear Ignis complaining about wasting resources to make it, but Prompto didn't care at this point. Sad Birthday Cupcakes were a tradition, godsdammit, and he wasn't going to let the Apocalypse and the complete destruction of everything he knew and loved get in the way of that. Especially since it seemed to be one of the few things he could still....well, enjoy wasn't the word. You didn't really enjoy Sad Birthday Cupcakes.
But you could cling to them.
And he was clinging to the soft glow of the single candle on the cupcake for a good, long time before he sighed, blew it out, let the darkness settle in around him again, and then, exhausted but practically automatic at this point, reached for the gun at his hip to load it and get it ready before the inevitable horde of daemons came scurrying out to wish him their own version of a happy birthday.
[[ *whistles innocently while leaning heavily on the fast-forward button as we start in on some good old 'passage of time placeholder' posts* NFB and NFI, obvs. ]]
The communicator had not been so lucky. Once he finally had the chance to recover it, Prompto was left wondering what had even been done to it. Even with his deep, familiar knowledge with the device, it would probably take weeks to put it back together, and then there was the matter of finding another energy source for it. But, maybe, just maybe, it might not matter. If they could get into Insomnia again, find the hubs, figure out how to get the portals back, then they wouldn't even need to communicator...
So they slipped eastward. And while the Empire had crumbled from within at the source up in Niflheim, it appeared as though the faction in Insomnia didn't get the memo. The last remnants of the Empire was still holding out, with Insomnia, ironically, as its new stronghold. Dreadnaughts still clogged the sky; there was no way to even get near the gate to the bridge without being stopped by MTs, there could potential be an approach by water, but even the cover of the constant darkness would by spoiled by the constant sweeping lights along the shore. Not to mention that Insomnia had their own daemons now. If they were going to try to get it, it would require a bit more planning than just a dash across the bridge to sort through the rubble...
So they hadn't made any progress, and were, instead, slightly more worse. Without the sun, days were starting to blur together, but Prompto was trying his best to keep track of the passage of time, even though each day, each week, each month just seemed to feel heavier and heavier. Noctis' birthday had passed, and that hit particularly hard. And now, somehow, almost astonishingly, it was Prompto's.
Not that time seemed to matter anymore. There certainly wasn't anything to celebrate. But while everything had been turned completely upside down, that just made Prompto want to cling to little things that much more.
Which meant it was time for another Sad Birthday Cupcake.
Probably the Saddest Birthday Cupcake Yet.
He could already hear Ignis complaining about wasting resources to make it, but Prompto didn't care at this point. Sad Birthday Cupcakes were a tradition, godsdammit, and he wasn't going to let the Apocalypse and the complete destruction of everything he knew and loved get in the way of that. Especially since it seemed to be one of the few things he could still....well, enjoy wasn't the word. You didn't really enjoy Sad Birthday Cupcakes.
But you could cling to them.
And he was clinging to the soft glow of the single candle on the cupcake for a good, long time before he sighed, blew it out, let the darkness settle in around him again, and then, exhausted but practically automatic at this point, reached for the gun at his hip to load it and get it ready before the inevitable horde of daemons came scurrying out to wish him their own version of a happy birthday.
[[ *whistles innocently while leaning heavily on the fast-forward button as we start in on some good old 'passage of time placeholder' posts* NFB and NFI, obvs. ]]