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 Cirice, prompto~
Ardyn Izunia
 Posted: Jun 17 2017, 07:58 PM
Quote
Neutral_Evil
17 posts
2000+ years old
human (immortal)
Head of Intelligence
6'3" | 175 lbs
final fantasy
Ardyn Izunia
Odoroshi [she/her] is Offline


N/A


A
rdyn has long since come to accept and operate under the assumption that there is very little left of his home world. It’s a tough pill to swallow, perhaps—given all that he’s put into twisting and molding and breaking it into something more suitable to his tastes, even if he had died in order to see it all through—but it’s something he can take on the chin and keep moving. He’s had more than enough time to feel sorry for himself, to let himself stew in the bitterness and rage festering ever on and on in the pit of his stomach; he must continue onward, onward to a new dawn, a new apocalypse.

There are few, if any, remnants of Eos here in Kadath, save for the occasional Daemon or case of Starscourage afflictions. That’s fine, he supposes—it’s not as if the gods of Eos ever smiled upon him in the first place. He’s abandoned his sentimentality to that world and its well-being. This is simply a change of scenery; the seething dark in him remains ever the same.

He thumbs idly through the paperwork on his desk—a comprehensive list of all students attending Miskatonic University for the purpose of…some investigation he has little interest in—scanning over the names. There is one in particular that suddenly sharpens his interest, though—one that makes his hand freeze in place and hover over it in a brief moment of genuine surprise that plays clearly across his features.

His lips curl in a smile stretched taut against teeth bared like knives. A laugh escapes him suddenly—staccato, tinged at the edges with bits of the sadism in him that he’d been hiding so carefully.

Ah…

There is one remnant of Eos here on Kadath.

And this one…this one he can most certainly work with.

It takes him a matter of moments to wring out every last bit of information on this particular memento from home; the information networks of the Intelligence Department run ever-deep, and exploiting that much is something Ardyn will never tire of. He devours it all, makes a snap decision to rise from his desk and march briskly from the Intelligence building, slipping a quick excuse to his coworkers as to why he’ll be absent the rest of the day.

He doesn’t quite need to sit and stew over a plan as to how he’ll go about…acquiring this memento of home, after all. He knows exactly what to do before he even begins making his way toward Miskatonic University.

His smile soon stretches across a face not his own—a face that, too, hits him with a shot of nostalgia. Wine-colored hair dyes itself a deep ebony, aged features smooth out back to that of young adulthood, many layers of extravagant clothing shift and replace themselves with something simpler, something more youthful. A passing glance in a storefront window confirms the impersonation is as perfect as he remembers it being—so perfect that he almost has to stop and double-check that who he sees is, in fact, himself.

A laugh spills from him in a voice not his own. This will work quite nicely.

Now, on to the matter at hand.

He’s allowed into Miskatonic with little question, given the appearance he’s assumed, and takes to walking briskly through the halls. He’s got a general idea of how the school is laid out, and a general idea of where his quarry should be at this time of the day according to his class schedule. All that’s left is the matter of finding—

There

That mop of blonde hair is terribly hard to miss—carefully spiked, peeking suddenly out above the crowd of students shuffling off to class. Baby blues and a mess of freckles splashed across nose and cheeks show themselves from between passing, irrelevant faces.

Now is when the curtain rises on a new tragedy—the touching sequel to the time they spent together in their home world.

“Prompto!” Ardyn calls the boy’s name in a voice not his own, shoving his way through the crowd and stretching a hand in his direction. “Prompto—gods, Prompto! Is that you?” He’d like to think his faux-desperation and faux-relief is believable enough as to not arouse any suspicion. Like a well-designed puppet, Ardyn’s false face contorts in emotion that seems real, for all intents and purposes. “S-seriously, tell me it’s you!”


NOTES: it begins.............the Descent
tag: Prompto Argentum
bgm: circie-ghost

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Prompto Argentum
 Posted: Jun 17 2017, 10:00 PM
Quote
Neutral_Good
8 posts
20 years old
Human
(Broke) College Student
5'8" | 145 lbs
Final Fantasy
Prompto Argentum
SincerityNature [they/them] is Offline


N/A


"THAT'S WHY YOU CAME
LIKE I BELIEVED YOU WOULD"
It's strange for Prompto-- has been strange for the brief duration of his time here-- to be without his group of friends. He's grown so used to being around them, grown so used to them being a permanent fixture in his life that their sudden absence leaves a gaping hole in his day to day life. Pair that with the fact that he's been dropped off by who knows what in who knows where, and, well-- it's enough to set even Prompto on edge, putting a slight falter in his usual light step.

Nevertheless, he puts his usual bright smile on his face as he practically bounces down the hall of Miskatonic University, his bag slung over his shoulder and his camera hanging in its usual place around his neck. The hall is bustling with students; some looking a little more than dead tired as they make their way to their classes, others in groups, laughing with others as they wait for their next class to start.

It's enough to strike a pang of bitter nostalgia in Prompto's heart-- evokes memories of he and his friends together, bantering back and forth or joking around. He clutches his camera a little tighter; turns his head away to focus on the classroom numbers so as to not dampen his mood. They'll be here, he thinks to himself-- or maybe he'll get home. There's uncertainty in the thought-- uncertainty that hasn't been present before. He's always trusted his friends to come get him; always trusted in their ability to save him from whatever danger he's in. But this time-- with this entire new world, he's not entirely sure if this is somewhere they can follow. Either way, he places some kind of faith-- in vain, perhaps, but he won't let himself think like that-- some kind of hope in his friends that he'll see them again. They've always come for him, no matter what, and this time will be no different, he thinks (he prays)

But there's no point in lingering on that kind of thinking. They'll be here, he thinks again, sounding desperate to even himself. He hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder; weaves in and out of the crowd with ease. He's so distracted with finding his room number that he almost misses it.

Almost.

The sound is unmistakable to him-- almost barely heard, but there. The sound of his name, rising above the chatter of the students. That's enough to make Prompto pause for a moment; glance around briefly to search for the source of it. It could've been his imagination, he thinks; wishful thinking that takes form in imagined words. He almost brushes it off as just that, before he hears it again, in an all too familiar voice, much louder than the first time, and closer to him.

He spins in the direction of the voice immediately, almost frantically searching for its owner, before his eyes snap onto a familiar face-- the one he'd been waiting to see, the one he'd been hoping to see.

"Noct!"

The name spills from his mouth almost immediately, without even thinking about it. Already, he's similarly pushing through the crowd, focused only on his friend, on Noctis as he makes his way towards him. His own face mirrors the relief he sees on Noctis's face-- perhaps a bit more acute in its appearance, a bit more present. "You're here!"

He finally reaches Noctis; reaches out to put a hand on his friend's shoulder, his smile becoming more genuine, the relief on his face bleeding into it. "You're here, he repeats, this time going on. "I knew you would be." A little laugh comes from him. "How'd ya find me? I've been waiting for you to show up for what feels like ages." His smile falters for a second, before it's back in full force. "Have to admit, though, I didn't really know if you could find me here."
Ardyn Izunia || NOTES: this poor boy has no clue that the devil's boutta fuck up his day
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Ardyn Izunia
 Posted: Jun 21 2017, 10:48 PM
Quote
Neutral_Evil
17 posts
2000+ years old
human (immortal)
Head of Intelligence
6'3" | 175 lbs
final fantasy
Ardyn Izunia
Odoroshi [she/her] is Offline


N/A


A
h—how quickly he falls for it.

All sunshine smiles and freckled cheeks and baby blues, Prompto is too consumed by his own light to sense the creeping dark wrapping icy fingers about his ankles and pulling him ever deeper. There is not a beat of hesitation—not a moment in which he stops to consider and dissect the situation. He questions not what he sees because it is what he wants to see; a blind optimism clouds his head and brings him stepping into Ardyn’s waiting hands.

Ardyn accepts it all with arms spread, welcoming the unwitting boy into the writhing dark.

Ardyn knows—oh, he knows—why Prompto does so; nagging insecurity like parasites beneath his skin must have been threatening to tear him apart from the inside out. In the blood and viscera is an unmistakable feeling of isolation; pumping through his heart is a longing for an ebony haired boy’s attention and validation. Once torn from him, why, ardyn is almost surprised that Prompto isn’t even more of a wreck. He’d learned a great many things in Gralea—pried a great many things from unwilling lips with the edge of a knife.

He’s fallen for the act hook line and sinker; Ardyn supposes that he ought to push his advantage as much as he can. Lovingly, he twines the strings of fate about the boy’s wrists, stringing him up to dance for the daemons that grind teeth and claws against Ardyn’s bones.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m here.” False Noctis’ voice bleeds a believable sort of faux-relief. He breathes out a shaky sigh, as if some great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “I’m here.” But, ah, “he” isn’t here. For all Ardyn knows, the Chosen King is still peacefully asleep six feet under, never to wake again, never to truly put an end to what he had started. The thought is almost vexing (despite his wishes, he’ll continue ever on and on in this unending life of his), though the fact presents an intriguing possibility in this new world—one that entails an entirely new game, an entirely new stageplay.

Back to the act at hand, though. He returns Prompto’s physical touch, resting one hand atop the hand resting on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “And you...you’re here! Gods, I...I almost didn’t believe it at first; I thought this was some kinda weird dream I couldn’t wake up from.” A shaky laugh, a lopsided smile; Ardyn has done well to keep tabs on dearest Noct’s mannerisms and mimic them to the best of his ability. He’ll have to bank on the fact that Prompto is too consumed with his relief to notice a few little inconsistencies, though.

“You knew, huh?” Prompto’s earnestness is sweet enough to eat—how he holds onto that hope that his dearest friends will always be there for him, no matter the circumstance. Be it in the midst of enemy territory as a prisoner of war or in a new world entirely, Ardyn has noticed one consistent thing: that earnest hope, earnest belief that his prince will always be there to sweep him off his feet.

It’s adorable in a sickening sort of way.

“You kept me waiting, then! I looked everywhere for you before I took a guess that you’re going to college.” He aims a playful punch at Prompto’s shoulder, “I was worried that I lost you again and—” He cuts himself off with a faux-sheepish chuckle. “Ah...doesn’t matter now. Doesn’t matter.” He smiles in Prompto’s direction.

“Anyways,” Steely blue eyes sweep around the hallway, noting the crowd of passing students, “the middle of the hallway isn’t really the best place to catch up, huh?” It would do Ardyn little good to drop the act and go about making Prompto dance to his tune now; he’s got too high a profile in this world to be able to pull such a thing off. He’s got to get the boy alone before he can really work. If he remembers correctly, Ardyn recalls seeing that Prompto lives in a dorm on campus, and the dorms are not far from this very spot. Perhaps that will be private enough for his liking—though he supposes he just might have to dispatch any roommates Prompto may have for the sake of keeping a low profile.

“Do you live in a dorm or something like that? It’d be easier to talk there.”


NOTES: its DEFINITELY NOCTIS buddy dont worry about it
tag: Prompto Argentum

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Prompto Argentum
 Posted: Jun 26 2017, 09:35 PM
Quote
Neutral_Good
8 posts
20 years old
Human
(Broke) College Student
5'8" | 145 lbs
Final Fantasy
Prompto Argentum
SincerityNature [they/them] is Offline


N/A


"THAT'S WHY YOU CAME
LIKE I BELIEVED YOU WOULD"
It's a warm sort of relief that wraps itself around Prompto; the reassuring touch of Noct's hand against his own making his shoulders drop as they release tension he didn't know he held in them, as a weight is lifted and his faith-- his faith that had begun to shake under the pressure that his isolation had wrought-- is restored in its entirety, accompanied with shining blue eyes and a beam. The heavy feeling that had taken up residence in his chest lessens, and Prompto laughs. "Yeah, dude, me too! I was super freaked out when I woke up here, and you were gone, and so were Ignis and Gladio, and--" He cuts himself off before he can go on further, mostly because he doesn't want to get carried away. "Well, you get what I mean."

He soaks in the sound of Noct's familiar laugh, of the look of mutual relief on his friend's face, that brightens Prompto even more with how familiar, how reassuring it is to his ears; like catching a glimpse of home in this place that's anything but. "'Course I did!" He's quick to reassure Noctis; quick to reassure him that Prompto always trusted him, always knew he was going to come. Noctis is his best friend, he'd never abandon Prompto, just like he hadn't abandoned him when he'd been captured by the Empire. Just like he hadn't abandoned him when he found out the truth about him.

And this-- this is proof to Prompto. Proof that no matter how far away Prompto finds himself, no matter how bad the situation is, Noctis will always come.

Prompto sheepishly rubs the back of his head as Noctis punches him lightly in the arm, dramatically staggering back a step or two, though the grin never falters from his face. "Yeah, well, I didn't really know where you were. But if I had, I would've come to find you!" There's a pause here, before-- "Are Gladio and Ignis with you?" If he and Noctis are here, then there was no way that they couldn't be! Everything's going to be okay now, he thinks-- everything will be fine, just like how it used to be, now that Noctis and maybe the others are here! Maybe even better, since there's no Empire here, no constantly running, no constant danger! This idea heartens Prompto even more; instills in him more firmly a determined optimism.

He's quickly distracted, however, by Noctis's observation; glancing around at the students who (a bit irritably) had simply changed their course to move around Noctis and Prompto. "Oh! Uh, yeah, probably not." He adjusts his backpack on his shoulder as he gives a little shrug; it doesn't really bother him all that much, but they probably should get out of the middle of the hallway. "Yeah, yeah! The dorms are just a little ways away! Come on!"

His dorms aren't that far away, and he picks up his usual role with ease, practically skipping the whole way and chattering about his photography classes and the fact that he's practically living off of cup noodles right now ("Gladio would probably love that," he comments with a laugh.)

And then he's pushing open his dorm room door, holding it open for Noctis to walk in with a bright smile. "And here we go! Where I've been living since I got here!" There's not really much in his dorm room except the essentials, food, and then photos he's taken since arriving here.

Ardyn Izunia || NOTES: this next part is where ardyn finds out that prompto only has noodles in his dorm
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Ardyn Izunia
 Posted: Jul 13 2017, 09:52 PM
Quote
Neutral_Evil
17 posts
2000+ years old
human (immortal)
Head of Intelligence
6'3" | 175 lbs
final fantasy
Ardyn Izunia
Odoroshi [she/her] is Offline


N/A


T
he touch of Ardyn’s hand—gentle, unassuming on the surface—is a steel trap, folding in upon Prompto’s wrist with swift and merciless precision. Metal teeth dig into flesh and bone before the boy is even aware of what he’s fallen for, and Ardyn can already smell the blood. It takes more self control than he had expected not to let his smile twist in upon itself; he bites down hard upon the inside of his cheek to keep his expression carefully cordial. There’s a chorus of howling voices rattling about in his head: a hundred thousand daemons crying out for him to act.

‘Patience,’ he urges them, ‘our time is yet coming.’

“Ignis and Gladio…?” He echoes and Prompto prattles on, feeling his interest again spike. It seems as if the royal entourage is even more split up than he had originally anticipated; not a single one aside from Prompto has managed to find their way to this new world—or, at least, find their way into the scope of the Intelligence Department’s reach. It wouldn’t surprise him if Gladio turned out to be roughing it in the woods for as long as he could manage. Regardless, however, this much seems to prove something that is as equally troubling as it is promising:

On one hand, it means that the Chosen King—the true object of his grudge, the one whose blood he aches most to drain—is nowhere to be found, along with most of his entourage. It’s a shame, really, that he’d poured so much effort into molding them all into adversaries worth his time only for it to all be undone by the hand of some loathsome deity filling its sandbox with toys from other worlds.

On the other hand...it does imply that there is still yet a possibility of dearest Noctis being plucked out of Eos and dropped off here some time very soon. Ardyn will have to be sure to provide him with a warm welcome—warm like spilled tears, spilled blood.

The preparations...begin with Prompto.

“They’re not with you…?” Ardyn’s voice rings with faux-concern. “I...don’t know where they are, then. But—if we’re here, they’re bound to show up eventually, right? There’s gotta be a better chance that we’ll all end up here, since the both of us are here.” The little bit of optimism is genuine, though for all the wrong reasons. Ardyn hopes for the rest not for reassurance, but to twist and break them before their helpless king, to corrupt this world as he had their last.

He falls silent and trots along to keep with Prompto’s jaunty pace as they move toward the dorms, listening with an occasional nod of hum of acknowledgement to whatever the boy prattles on about—school, his job, his excess of cup noodles. It’s adorable how well he’s been getting along, how unaware he is of what looms overhead. Idly, Ardyn wonders if he will be able to return to life as usual after finding out that whatever hope he’d been holding for some semblance of normalcy has been crushed under Ardyn’s merciless heel.

He hopes not.

“It’s...small.” He observes aloud, peering through the door Prompto holds open. “Quaint, though.” He crosses the threshold, taking a moment to survey the inside. Prompto really hadn’t been lying about the excess of cup noodles; if Ardyn doesn’t kill him, all that sodium surely will.

He waits for Prompto, too, to step fully inside before taking his cue: the click of the door closing as he closes it behind the both of them with his foot, the sound of the door lock as he flicks it closed with a swift movement. Using his body as a sort of pseudo-barrier, Ardyn plants himself directly between Prompto and the door—no escape, not now that the trap has already been sprung.

The shroud melts off of him, shimmering with a cold, sickly light as ‘Noctis’ fades into Ardyn, as the game finally begins in true. The smile he’d been wearing remains, though there’s an icy curl to the corners of his mouth, a sort of wicked bloodlust flickering in the depths of honey-colored eyes. “I really am glad you’ve been getting on so well, dear boy.” Each syllable he takes between his teeth and pulls like taffy, letting malice fall between the spaces. “And I really must apologize for getting your hopes up like that—but given how...last we met, I knew such a thing would be the only way I could speak with you. Surely you understand?

“Now then,” Still positioned between Prompto and the door, Ardyn advances, steps comfortably into Prompto’s personal space and hunches to his eye-level, “now that we’ve got the pleasantries already taken care of, why don’t we get down to business, hm?” One brow quirks upward, “I have some things to discuss with you. I may not be Noctis, but surely you you’ll spare me some conversation.”


NOTES: here he comes
tag: Prompto Argentum

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Prompto Argentum
 Posted: Jul 25 2017, 12:57 PM
Quote
Neutral_Good
8 posts
20 years old
Human
(Broke) College Student
5'8" | 145 lbs
Final Fantasy
Prompto Argentum
SincerityNature [they/them] is Offline


N/A


"THAT'S WHY YOU CAME
LIKE I BELIEVED YOU WOULD"
He laughs as he goes further into his room, shoving his hands in his pockets as he similarly surveys the room, his back to Noctis. It's a little messy, sure, and there's the pile of cupnoodles as promised in the corner of his room, but he thinks that he doesn't mind it all that much. At least, the growing pressure of isolation that had been building in him is slowly beginning to unravel once more, so he could grow to mind it even less, if it means Noctis is in this world with him.

The click of the door doesn't miss his attention, though, and Prompto turns back towards Noctis with slight confusion as he hears the click of the lock, in place, too. "Hey, what's--" He freezes in place, then, and his breath catches in his throat.

Ice. It creeps into his veins, into his throat, choking any words that he might've said, any movement he might've made as he watches Noctis disappear-- as he watches his hope disappear, crumbling in front of him, falling through his fingers as Ardyn appears instead. He wants to lie to himself; wants to say that he doesn't understand, that it is a naive sort of ignorance that takes hold of him, a blissful ignorance that blinds him to the truth. But he does understand. He understands, in a second, that Noctis is not here. He understands that he is well and truly alone in this world. He understands that Ardyn is here.

And he understands that his hope of some sort of stability and happiness in this world has just been crushed under Ardyn's heel like glass, easily fracturing it into a thousand pieces.

There's a moment of silence from Prompto as he struggles to reconcile his mind with the fact that he's just been deceived; with such ease too. As he attempts to accept this fact that he hadn’t seen through it immediately, despite all Ardyn has done, despite the fact that Prompto knew Ardyn had the ability to do such a thing. He can still hear the sound of the train roaring in his ears, can still feel the ice and snow sapping his heat and strength, can still see his own face reflected back at him by Ardyn moments before before being flung from the train and left for dead. He'd been so desperate, so hopeful to believe that Noctis was really here, that he hadn't even paused to think about it, to question it. And now he's paying the price.

”You.” It’s all he can manage at the moment, as he stares at Ardyn with an expression that’s likely akin to a hunted, wounded animal’s; wide eyes and bared teeth and tense posture. His eyes dart to the door that’s now locked; that Ardyn has locked, before focusing back on him. ”Where’s Noctis?” Even as it's revealed to be a lie; an illusion, Prompto still grasps onto the first thing he can focus on through this crushing feeling that's pressing down on his chest. Maybe Ardyn did something with Noctis, and that's why he's here! Though, Prompto will concede, there’s also no saying that Ardyn even knows; but Prompto will be more surprised than not if he doesn’t. After all, Ardyn seems to have a little too much information on most things. He recalls the facility; recalls Gralea. He feels sick.

He's standing in front of the door-- no way out, unless he wants to consider the window. Which, with each passing moment, through moments of crushing disappointment and betrayal, is beginning to look more and more appealing. He's been through rougher scenarios, and he wonders idly if the fall would kill him. (He wonders if even that might be preferable to this.) But then he's reeling back, anyways, as Ardyn advances on him, his hands clenching into fists and his breathing coming out short, blue eyes that had previously been shining with such excitement hardening like ice.

"I don't have anything to say to you." His voice shaking slightly in his anger and shock, and his fingernails dig into his palms as his hands tighten more. "And you don't have anything to say to me that I'd be interested in, so you might as well leave." The words gritted out through bared teeth are tougher than he feels as the sickness in him grows, churning his stomach.

Ardyn Izunia || NOTES: ):

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Ardyn Izunia
 Posted: Sep 4 2017, 12:33 AM
Quote
Neutral_Evil
17 posts
2000+ years old
human (immortal)
Head of Intelligence
6'3" | 175 lbs
final fantasy
Ardyn Izunia
Odoroshi [she/her] is Offline


N/A


A
rdyn’s smile twists in on itself as he sees the revelation play itself out across Prompto’s face. Teeth flash past his grin: made of knives, carved from bone, baring an ichorous malice that he makes no move to conceal from his quarry. It’s obvious that playing at niceties isn’t apt to get him any closer to the end goal he has in mind for this little encounter; there’s no need to tiptoe around anything—which, frankly, Ardyn is offhandedly grateful for. Assuming the mask of the kindhearted, albeit somewhat quirky Intelligence Head has started to grow tiring, and letting it fall in front of Prompto could very well be just what the doctor ordered.

In the boy’s eyes, he sees a real, visceral fear; baby blues, warm like the ocean but a few moments ago, freeze, crack, spill forth every thought in the boy’s pretty little blonde head. His optimism falls and breaks—a hundred-thousand shards of glass strength that Ardyn ceremoniously grinds to dust beneath his heel. Oh—he’d been so happy, so, so happy to see his king’s face, to have some semblance of home to ground himself in. Ardyn’s heart soars when that foundation turns to sand beneath the boy’s feet and sends him falling back to earth.

A laugh escapes him—low and breathy. Me.”

It’s a verbal confirmation: the final nail in the coffin. Noctis is not here.

Prompto’s first question ought to have been something Ardyn was expecting; leave it to such a faithful steward and friend to think of his King before himself. He knows full well where Noctis is—six feet under, taking a dirt nap courtesy of the selfsame gods that had saddled Ardyn with his own curse—though the fact that Ardyn, himself, is currently alive despite all that had transpired makes him just a touch unsure. It’s quite possible that Noctis, too, is here—alive—as if the infamous deity overseeing this world had on a dime decided to play some sort of sick cosmic joke and repeat the millennia-long game that he and the Chosen King are fated to play.

However...that’s not a possibility that he’s going to let Prompto in on. It’s curious how the boy seems to have been aged backwards since last they met but...that plays very well into a certain idea that Ardyn has brewing.

“You don’t want to talk to me, Prompto? Oh, I’m so hurt.” He places a hand over his heart. “I understand that we’ve had some…complicated dealings in the past, but I believe you’ll want to listen to what I have to say nonetheless.” He chuckles. “You’re always free to ignore me—plug your ears, sing yourself a little tune and drown me out—but then you’ll miss out on the answer to your first question! That would be quite a shame, wouldn’t it?”

“How’s this for something you’d be interested in:” One hand suddenly lunges forward, seizing Prompto’s jawline between his forefinger and thumb. I know where your friends are.”

He lets that hang heavy in the air between them for a long moment, lets Prompto process it and, hopefully, walk a few steps forward into Ardyn’s waiting trap. The dear boy’s been looking at every exit he possibly can, and Ardyn isn’t keen on having him slip away so soon.

“Unfortunately...I’m not quite so sure you’ll like the answer. Ignorance is often bliss, but I can’t stand to see you pine so pitifully for your dearest friends to no avail.” His hand falls back to his side; he turns and paces about the room as he continues speaking. “Allow me to explain. You may or may not be aware, but in this world, I am currently serving as the Head of Intelligence—the governmental department in charge of overseeing any and all knowledge regarding this strange little world we’re stranded upon. Very little is known about the circumstances of just how one ends up here; people have been grabbed from all points in their respective timelines, from the midst of battle, from a long-earned peacetime, et cetera.”

“We’ve been able to confirm one thing, however: any being that ends up in this world is from a continuing timeline. Regardless of where in their life they were taken, any individual here must be alive at the latest point in their life. ‘Dead men tell no tales,’ no?” His brows knit together: a look of condescending pity. “That’s where your friends come in. I’m afraid that they cannot come here...given the fact that they’ve all perished at the latest point in their timeline.”

“You see, Prompto, I can make an educated guess that you come from a time...somewhat near the Gralea incident, yes? From the latest point in my timeline, it has been approximately ten years since that incident. Since then, your world was plunged into an unending darkness, teeming with powerful daemons determined to erase from existence every last shred of humanity left upon the earth. You, Noct, and the rest of your friends attempted to...make a final stand of sorts against the source of the scourge: yours truly.”

One hand hovers over his heart, his face contorting into a sort of false grief. “But, ah, it was not to be. Noctis had not yet ascended, not yet claimed the crystal’s true power, and he, along with your other friends, were struck down one by one. As his plan went awry, as Ignis and Gladiolus lie dying, Noctis used the last of his strength to insist that you run, that you save yourself for his sake. Thus, because he begged you so, you did just that.”

It’s a boldfaced lie—all of it—but it tastes the same as gospel truth on his tongue. His expression remains even, gives no indication that he may be fabricating the entire thing to plunge Prompto ever deeper into his despair. Every word falls like puppeteer’s strings, twining lovingly about the boy’s wrist and stringing him up to dance.

Now, all he must do is see just how hard the boy struggles before he succumbs.

“Now, given that you and I are the only remnants of our world in this place, would you care to speak to me now?


NOTES: SORRY FOR THE WAIT. as apology i will jsut tear ur heart out
tag: Prompto Argentum

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a f f i l i a t e
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TOGETHER WE FALL: A NON-CANON NARUTO RP DIVESTED - A Canon Shingeki no Kyojin Roleplay Those Among Us DBS Yuri Roleplay Sengoku Horizon F/BC All of Me ♥ DETHRONED GODS:RE STARSTRUKK - ANIMANGA ENTERTAINMENT CITY RP Kaleidoscope Avalon a Panfandom RP Mystic Mayhem RAINBOW CONNECTION  photo AffiliateButton World of Remnant - An AU RWBY RP
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