daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

Yeah.

[he rubs carefully at his nose, aware of his half-bruises and cuts at this point. he glances over at ardyn, in a bit of awe, now that it hits him that the man did in fact manage to heal his wounds.]

[what kind of magic is that?]

[it's insane]

[turning to look back at his hands on his lap, prompto opens and closes them into fists. could he also have magic? to heal? to fight monsters?]

...I wonder what kind of world it was. If it ... really is 'home,' so to speak.

[He just lifts his brow at Prompto ever so slightly at that look. Yes, he had healed his wounds -- and yes, the pain had been a bit more than what he was used to feeling, but at least now it begins to fade, ever so slowly. He still makes a point not to show it on his features.

He only answers Prompto's spoken statement.]

It doesn't much feel like home right now, does it? To me, if feels like nothing more than a faraway world, full of things we don't quite understand.

It would be strange, I think, to start thinking of it as "home" someday. Isn't this place our home? This... reality, or whatever it is we're calling it?

I guess you're right. Doesn't really feel much like anywhere I'm familiar with.

[it's an odd notion, but prompto continues to entertain it for some reason]

...but, if it were.

[here he rubs his hands together, in some show of nerves, but manages to thread his fingers together to keep himself from fidgeting much longer.]

Maybe it's a lot better than what it is now? I mean, if magic... exists. That's crazy to think about, but also kind of cool.

[also, maybe his shitty childhood wasn't shitty there??]

[Ardyn's not sure how to take that, honestly. It's not a thought he'd even stopped to consider.

He sounds skeptical, rightfully so.]

Would it really be better? Choosing to live in one world rather than the one you were born in, well, that's- [foolish] -excessively bold, isn't it?

...After all, you'd have people who would miss you.

If it means understanding something that seems to be a big part of myself... Why not? No matter what comes of it...

[this is a brave statement from prompto. but it's equally foolish, and he realises it so. which is why his response is more defensive than anything else. still, regardless, he's feeding on curiosity more than anything else.]

[he offers an easy-going statement]

Besides, if I got injured then I'd probably worry people less.

No matter what comes of it. [He seems to mutter the words, echoing them to himself. Words that one could grow to regret; and yet, Ardyn can't say anything. He feels similarly about trying to understand.]

What makes you so sure of that?

Because, clearly, I'm an expert monster hunter and I'd know how to take care of myself!

[he nods]

And it's likely that maybe I could use magic, too!

[he wants to believe]

You may not be a monster hunter in this life, Prompto, but you've proven that you can take care of yourself. [Most...of the time.]

What sort of magic do you think you would've used?

[Believe, Prompto....]

Dunno.

...maybe like, casting elemental attacks. Like a wall of fire?

[he knows a jab when he sees one so he decides not to press that further...]

[It's not that big of a jab, come on now.]

It would've been difficult for you to fight Chill Satan, then. Unless the saying of fighting fire with fire literally applies in this sense.

Well, water, too, maybe.

[he shrugs, thinking back on all the JRPGS he likes playing.]

[aaahhh now he wants to play...]

In any case... the plot just gets weirder and weirder. Honestly, not what I wanted when I said I also wanted memories back. They're more terrifying than anything else.

A shame it seems like we don't have a choice but to recall them at this point. They may be frightening, but I'd rather be disconcerted than oblivious, wouldn't you?

Fair enough.

[he concedes that point. prompto rolls his wrists, particularly the one that got most of the brunt of his fall, but he manages to roll them with ease because of the halfway healing that ardyn managed to do over him. even if the topic of conversation pushed towards something else entirely, prompto's still a little--a lot--embarrassed about how he reacted, even though he knows full well that ardyn would never hold it against him.]

[the slight pang of guilt and regret is on the tip of his tongue, and although he already apologised...]

...I didn't mean anything bad by saying that you aren't my dad. I know it sounded wrong, [his voice is small, his head turned to the side, as if this embarrasses him; admitting anything at all] and I know you've been looking after me quite a bit. I don't ... hate that you're doing so.

I just have a hard time knowing what being treated like this by an adult outside school is like.

[He can't help but wave his hand to the side, as if dismissing the apology. He has nothing to apologize for -- the spike of frustration that had arisen because of it is now long gone.

Ardyn understands why he said it, in any case. It might've been harsh, but he's not so blinded to his own point of view to not see Prompto's, too.]

I... never want to be presumptuous, Prompto. I know I have no right to fuss over you the way I do, not really. [He's no parent, not even a legal guardian, just a professor at the university that Prompto is enrolled in.] Nor do I ever want to make you uncomfortable. I know you're an adult, and you're free to make your own decisions without the weight of my words hanging over you.

But I still worry. I want to see you succeed and be happy, and if I'm the only adult who makes that effort outside of school, then so be it. I want to take on that responsibility, if you'll let me.

[the result those words have on prompto is immediate. he crosses his legs and holds on tight to his ankles, as if to anchor himself, and tries to make himself smaller by hunching his shoulders.]

[it's a wonderful thing to hear, considering that any attempt to speak up always resulted in terrible things said back to him. there never a hand offered to him to pick him back up, or to accept any sort of help. sometimes it's still a strange notion for him to accept help from others, at all, and even stranger still to think others want to offer such a thing to him.]

[all prompto can do is nod, several times over]

Okay.

[and he really does hate himself, because apparently crying earlier was not enough, as tears spill silently this time, grateful more so than anything else, even as prompto's hand races to rub them right off his face]

O-okay.

[He only hopes that his words will sink in, that they'll reverberate in his thoughts later, days and days after this conversation has ended. Ardyn is sincere in all of it, and though he hates to see Prompto cry like this, he wants to know that they've made an impact in some way.

But, his bleeding heart-- no, not even that, it's the thread of closeness that keeps taut between them, shuddering as Prompto's tears spill, that makes him step forward. He could offer words of comfort, words of assuredness, statements of eloquence and sincerity that come to him as naturally as breathing, but-

He hugs him instead. It's a fatherly sort of thing, almost protective, highlighted more by how much bigger Ardyn is in comparison to Prompto.]

...You'll be fine, in the end.

[perhaps that's all prompto ever needed to hear. that he'd be fine, no matter how rough growing up may have been, and especially without his current hang-ups mattering at all in the type of person he wants to be. it's okay for him to make mistakes and take accountability for them, and the repercussion for them doesn't need to be a slap to the face or plain and simple abandonment.]

[three simple words hold within them a truth prompto has been having a hard time to swallow: he's doing a lot better now, even if he came from nothing, even if he was alone all this time]

[because, really, no matter what the circumstances may have been, he greets every tomorrow with enthusiasm and a happiness that isn't faked; no matter how little he's always had, the fortune of friends and found family is worth a million times more than all his shed tears from once before; despite the past, he's working towards a future he can feel proud of.]

[prompto is slow to react, but he leans ever so hesitantly into the embrace, shoulders positively shaking, trapped sobs rising past his lips, a hand finding itself clenched onto the front of ardyn's shirt even as his forehead, too, keeps him connected to a feeling of safety and belonging he never thought himself deserving of. perhaps one day he'll outgrow this feeling, of desperately trying to find a home despite having already found one, but for now he remains as he is, having a hard time making the tears stop]

[He'll let Prompto take all the time he needs. He'll let him latch onto his shirt, fingers digging into the material, without so much as blinking. He'll let him cry, shoulders shuddering, sobbing into his person. He doesn't care; if this is what Ardyn can offer him in way of support, then so be it.

And so he just lets him cry until he feels better, until it's all out and he can't cry anymore. The hug remains steady, undeterred, unmoving -- until then.

And only then does he speak again.]

Do you feel better?

[prompto nods into ardyn's chest at the question]

[the crying has stopped, and he's feeling exceptionally drained out of energy. he feels embarrassed, too, and that's why he doesn't quite pull away. he won't apologise though, considering they really are past that (and ardyn hasn't accepted any of his apologies as of yet).]

[it's with a bit of reluctance that he pulls back, cleaning up his face by bringing up his shirt. snot and tears, the best combination for the end of the way.]

Thanks...

RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject