daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[You're going to have to, look at how stubborn this man is, with a hand leaning against the wall, saying:]

Come now, I'm fine. You're worrying too much.

[He'll move to the couch, everything aching, as a show of this.]

You have too much on your plate right now to be fussing with me. I'm the one who's supposed to look after you, you know.

[prompto sighs. he wants to refute ardyn on the whole being looked after (like, who even says that? it's not fair!), and instead sets down everything he's carrying and goes instead into the cupboard under the stairs. from there, he brings out a binder stacked with several pages.]

If you lie down for the rest of the night, just this once, please--I'll read you the chapter of The Boy And His Chocobo that I've been writing in secret.

You what?

[Okay, out of everything, that is enough to make Ardyn look surprised and caught off-guard. Had Prompto been really hiding that binder in his own home this whole time?]

You've really been working on it?

[He might actually rest for the night just to hear this chapter, ngl.]

Of course!

[he sits down on the floor, his back leaning against the couch, as he opens the binder and goes through the first page.]

I'm mostly done with chapter one. I've been coming here to work on it when I know you weren't home. Like, the one time I told you to meet me for, uh, was it a food truck? And ended not showing up at all...

[turning his head slightly, he grins sheepishly]

Sorry about lying then.

[He blinks, then huffs out a weak laugh, making his way back to the couch. He settles down onto it with a grimace, still sore, but his focus is eying the binder in which Prompto has unearthed.]

How covert of you. Sneaking into my home when I wasn't aware of it.

[A pause, rubbing at the back of his neck.]

I had thought you were still upset with me.

[Meaning the time that Prompto didn't show.]

Yeah... sorry about that too, actually.

[he turns back to the binder, jogging his leg a bit; a nervous fumble on the page]

I know that I keep making excuses for it, and I know I shouldn't... You know I'm not used to having adults who actually give a shit about me. I'm going to try to get better at how I handle myself when that happens.

[Ardyn shakes his head.]

No, I should... [A pause.] Despite everything, you asked for me not to tell Togusa about your gun and I did anyway. A moment of concern wrought into an impulsive decision.

I owe you an apology for that at any rate.

[prompto's face feels hot at the idea of being offered an apology; of an adult admitting to doing something wrong towards him and wishing to rectify said wrong. prompto doesn't answer what ardyn is implying, as he instead turns to a page with writing, and stubbornly starts reading out loud.]

A Chocobo Among Sunflowers, by Prompto Argentum.

[he turns the page again.]

The darkness of the night was the perfect cover, but it did nothing to quell the persistent feeling that someone was watching him. The air was muggy, summer nights offering no comfort from the intense heat of the day. There was no breeze, either, but a place as landlocked as this one, there was no hope of ever receiving the blessings of the ocean's cooler and salty breeze. It was not something that the boy wasn't used to in his life, but the pervasive feeling of freedom kept nagging at his bones, ever since he found out that the egg he had found, as a child, and taken care of until it hatched was a golden-yellow creature--apparently the last of its kind.

The chains at his ankles were easy enough to remove, having spent years toying with the lock's mechanism, and although this was so the boy never saw it a need to leave this dreadful place. It was home, for all he knew, and the fact that he wasn't worth enough gold to make a profit gave him the exhausted notion that he was not wanted elsewhere.

Hiding behind barrels filled with feed, there was only one thing he wanted from this place before he left.

A sad chirp came from the barn.

The value of the chocobo he had grown up with was not something his owners knew of. Chocobo were considered to be dumb creatures, wild and ugly, with little chance for a big exchange in gold. A local merchant noticed it in recent days, however, and the news spread fast. Royalty wished for it, to see it and then own it, to be part of their collections, without realizing that it already belonged to another.

Sunny was shackled to the floor of the barn, the chain bruising its foot whenever it pulled.

"It's me," the boy whispered, shushing the startled chocobo, pressing gentle hands into its soft plumage. The chocobo relaxed, leaning her head against the boy's own. Even so, the feeling of urgency became one of panic now that he actually was here, but his hands worked deftly on the chain, muttering soft words of comfort whenever Sunny became too agitated.

The chocobo rose to her full height--three feet she had grown--once the chain clicked apart. Feathers rustled, and the boy didn't have a chance to grab a saddle. It would just be what food he managed to steal and put into a makeshift bag, tight around his chest, as he climbed up.

The moment they stormed out of the barn it was chaotic; the horses were startled and the dogs started barking. Light flooded from the inside of the caravans, doors opening frantically, and the shout of men and women alerting those still asleep, "thief!," but the boy and his chocobo were already running, past the lights of the outside torches and into the woods surrounding the campsite. One thing Sunny was good at was running, and could she run, even if they were now in what many consider to be treacherous woods.

In here, the darkness of the night became heavier, inky black, almost impossible to be able to discern shapes at all. But the boy felt wind on his hair, whistling past his ears, chasing away the drops of sweat on his brow--and he was smiling, holding a cluster of feathers tightly in his hands.

Their first taste of freedom was the stomping of heavy feet running on leaves and fallen branches, and the boy's exhilarated yell into the night.

[.....]

End of chapter one.

I made a couple of changes from the original.

[he straightens the pages out in front of him, on his lap, and waits for a response...]

[His apology stubbornly swept aside, Ardyn takes no offense as he listens to Prompto's story. And as he lets the imagery develop in his mind as the young man reads it all off to him, he cannot help but feel that there is something equal parts inspirational and sad in this first chapter. He wonders how much of this should be reflected in Prompto himself -- or if he's just trying to read too much into it, as he's often in the habit of doing.

Regardless, he does close his eyes for a moment as the story is told, leaning his head back to rest on the couch. He only looks at him when he's done.]

Is it an allegory?

[He does like it. That goes unsaid. Ardyn is the sort who would not hide criticism if there was any to be had; that's the professor part of him.]

Dunno about that.

[he says with a quiet shrug, getting up and going over to grab a glass of water and the painkillers, again.]

I just like the idea of some kid and his chocobo exploring the world and going on an adventure. Whether it's meant to reflect reality or not... I dunno. I guess we all wanna be free.

[smiling, now, he ushers ardyn to take the medicine.]

[He follows him with his gaze. This time, when met with the painkillers, Ardyn will not resist nor complain.]

Why doesn't-

[Well, he supposes he'll take the medicine first. He does, and it goes down easily enough. He holds the glass in his hand for now.]

-the boy have a name?

[back on the floor he goes, sitting down cross-legged, watchin ardyn with a bit of a smile]

No reason, really. Names are hard to choose. Was almost tempted to name him Glenn, like the security at Noct's apartment's lobby. But he probably never was given a name, within the context of the story?

[his smile grows bigger and he leans in, one hand cupping over his mouth as he speaks in a whisper, despite not needing to.]

Maybe he'll get one later on. One that he likes.

Edited 2017-09-05 23:23 (UTC)

[Despite himself, and that answer still not being all that satisfactory (but perhaps he's reading too much into it), Ardyn just shakes his head, chuckling.]

I do hope so. Everyone is happier when they have a name to go by. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." But it defines an individual regardless.

[He leans back into the cushions, trying to relax his weary body.]

Do you know what your name means, Prompto?

[prompto's still grinning when ardyn chuckles, going on with his usual exemplifying of things, offering some quote or another. tell prompto a year ago that he'd be having easy conversations with an adult and he'd have scoffed at the idea.]

[it's something to consider, though, about the name]

He'll get one.

[it really is just difficult to name a character. partly because he saw himself in it, but he was trying to draw away from his experiences, create something new altogether, a brighter version of what he knew.]

[there is a name somewhere, though. ardyn doesn't know it, but that's basically the theme of the story. sunflowers? chocobos? all a red herring.]

[at the question, however, he looks up a bit surprised]

Hm? Yeah, it means 'quick.'

Edited 2017-09-07 03:51 (UTC)

That's right, it does.

[He seems to laugh a little. The idea of names and their meanings was always something of interest to Ardyn, though perhaps he only truly gives it thought when considering how it's applied in fiction.

But now, tired and allowing himself to be watched over by Prompto, this seems like entertaining, idle conversation to be had. Despite everything, he stretches a bit.]

Coupled with your last name, you're quicksilver. How clever. [But he imagines he's not saying anything that the young man is not already aware of.] You should be proud of it.

[prompto... has his own feelings on his name. of course he looked up what it meant, ages ago, the same way he went through every horoscope and birthday meaning website, along with personality profiling ones... it seems like a silly attempted translation, and while it is unequivocally him, it feels like it's rough-sounding and weird most of the time.]

[but he smiles at ardyn, humoring him]

It's pretty unique.

[that much is true]

Dunno about clever...

I think it is.

[True, a misguided attempt at a translation, but it was a clever way to go about it. Naming conventions were often traditional, somewhat boring things, and so all the more reason to be proud to be sporting one that's unique, to say the least.

Or perhaps Ardyn is just biased, given his own name.]

Do you think it suits you?

Uhm.

[this conversation isn't making him uncomfortable, but it's a little embarrassing. prompto wants to gush about name meanings and zodiacs and horoscope tendencies, and how certain things work best in a full moon...]

[but he retracts, instead, into awkward, shuffled silence.]

Ma-maybe, I haven't thought much about it.

[#tormented]

...I like silver more than gold?

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