I want to ride my chocobo all day!

Prompto stood before the door that would lead him into the chamber where Verstael awaited. Even with the thick door closed, he could hear the machine working inside, pumping miasma into the tubes, and he tried not to think about how that could have been his fate. He tried, instead, to think of what had been his fate….and to remind himself that the only thing separating himself from the man to blame for the fact that all of that was now gone...was this one single door.

He breathed out. He could practically feel the sweat from his hands through his gloves on his grip on his gun. He held out his wrist toward the console. It lit up. Beeped. And opened the door.

( And Prompto, trying to ignore the way his whole body shook as he tried to hold his gun before him steadily, slowly crept inside. -- CW for mild body horror, patricide, emo )

As they approached, though, Aranea reached for Prompto's shoulder, turning him roughly toward her and shoving a map into his chest.

"Head there," she directed. "I'll catch up later."

With a shaking, confused, indecisive breath, Prompto watched as she turned to stride back into the fray, and then, frantic, he called out, "But what about you?"

Aranea didn't turn back, though, pulling out her lance and already crouching for an attack. "I said I'll catch up!"

"But what if you--" Prompto began to protest.

"Just go!"

Prompto stared back at her, then stared down at the map in his hand. Tried to remember how to breath and then, with a few backwards steps and a new resolve, turned toward the snowmobile to hop aboard. A few seconds later, the engine was revved and he was ready to gun it, back out into the unknown frozen wilderness of Niflheim.


[[ Part 3 of 4, there's still one more to go after this! NFB, NFI, OOC always appreciated, today is a very big day, and also, Aranea is GOAT. True facts. ]