[ Of course it's Ardyn, troublemaker extraordinaire, man of infuriating mystery and most obviously an enemy who's out to get them. He still doesn't quite see where he fits in with all this, there are too many pieces that don't fit right, but that's a thought for another day.
The important thing is this: Prompto hates him -- Noctis has never seen that look on his face before, and he knows, instinctively, that whatever went down had roused such a powerful, abiding hatred that he knows is entirely justified. Sparky cheeps in concern, wriggling out of Noctis' arms to waddle importantly to Prompto, evidently thinking something might be wrong with him.
He nods after a moment, taking in his story. Clearly, it's taking so much out of his best friend to relay this to him, and Noctis can't imagine what it must be like, being all alone, being told things like these... oh, how he wishes he was right there with him. Prompto must be struggling with it even now, he thinks, but he's not alone -- he's never alone, not as long as Noctis has something to say about it. ]
[Why? Prompto wants to ask, eyes scrunching a little in confusion or reluctance. It's not something he likes to see.
But it's way less horrible to reveal than the truth he already shared. It's just skin. And ink, or something. Not like looking at all those hairless other hims in tubes. Not like hearing an old man's voice quickly twist with madness over time.]
Sure. I guess.
[First, though, he settles Sparky in his lap once more, scritching his fingers quickly through his feathers and bending to kiss his sweet little head. Here he is, buddy, Dad's fine. Only once that's done does he turn his arm over to tug at the buckle of his wristband, does he move the leather away from pale, unfreckled skin.
He offers Noct his wrist, showing him the black bars and meaningless strings of letters and numbers stamped on the back. NH-01987 on one side. 0006-0204 on the other. The scanner in the research facility called him some other number, he doesn't even remember.]
It's not really that exciting. [He shrugs, sort of stiffly, sort of resigned.] Kind of like groceries, right?
[ So this is it. Noctis doesn't actually have a game plan for what to do when Prompto shows it to him, and when he sees the letters and numbers printed on his arm he can't believe that he hadn't seen it before, even by accident. But he's studying the look on Prompto's face, the thoughts that must be in his head -- the trust he places in Noctis anyway.
His fingers trace lightly over the bars and numbers, this set of prints that hold such sway over his best friend's life. Noctis doesn't say anything for a long moment -- what is there to say that won't sound hollow or trite? ]
Kind of.
[ He says at length, in lieu of something more appropriate. But he gives his wrist a quick squeeze. ] But you're way more important than groceries, though.
[ You're a proper, real person, he wants to say, and his best friend in the world. ]
[It's a fragile, thankful smile that crosses his face when Noct squeezes his wrist, and then he shakes it off for a grin, retrieving his arms to hide both hands in his lap, beneath Sparky.]
I'd hope so, dude! I think Iggy'd have something to say about your priorities if you stormed the Imperial capital for a bunch of groceries.
[ He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head at him. Imagine that, Noctis storming in for groceries. But Prompto doesn't look as strained now, and that's all that matters. ]
[Prompto rearranges his expression into what he thinks are severe, solemn lines, which really turns into more of a pout on him, and holds his shoulders up taller.]
"Well, Noctis, you've certainly come up with a new recipeh... for disaster."
[ Despite the situation, despite the doom and gloom on the horizon, Prompto always manages to lighten the mood, and that terrible pouty impersonation of Ignis earns a delighted bark of laughter. A quick reprieve, a breath before going under. ]
That was terrible!
[ He chortles. ] Okay, okay. Let me try. [ Puffing himself up, nose in the air, Noctis uses his most posh, uppity accent. ]
You've cooked up quite the hare-brained scheme, Noct.
[Oh, boy, it's playtime. Much to Sparky's happiness, Prompto sits right up and brings his hands out to gesture in lively fun, like everything's good again. Or at least like everything's got a chance.]
"It's clear I ought have put more food for thought in your diet, hmm."
[The words are hardly out before he's snorting and chortling again, leaning over into Noctis with a hand on his back so he can bury his laughing face in his shoulder, all relief and tension and sorrow and need bubbling out in a giggly mess.]
[ It feels almost desperate and cathartic after a fashion, this light-heartedness, tension released but not Noctis' own sorrow, the seed of which he buries carefully within himself. Sadness and pain is infectious, and Noctis loves Prompto too much to inflict it on him again.
After all, what use is there to bring down the mood now, when Prompto brightens and it feels like maybe, just maybe, there could be a glimmer of hope on the horizon. He's leaning against Prompto, seeking him out in his own ways even if he doesn't actively press forward, appreciating the simple warmth of just the both of them, enjoying a bout of jokes like they've always had. ]
"Or perhaps taught you which side your toast is buttered on.
[ But okay, this is fun. Is Ignis sneezing up a storm? Noctis is smiling, before he reverts to his usual tone. ] Can't believe he's only two years older than us, you know? It always seems like he's much older.
[ And yet, he's like them -- young, pushed out into the world and left to find their way around, tragedy nipping at their heels. ]
[They're close enough now that Sparky, spoiled child that he is, can sit in the dip between their two legs flush together. Still chuckling, Prompto just hangs off Noctis. This is where he belongs.]
I'll tell you something.
[He lifts his head and lowers his voice.]
He's saved in my contacts list as "Number #1 Mum." [Immediately, he's grabbing Noct's hands, as if their phones work here and he might text Ignis right now.] Shhh, don't tell him! Don't tell him, he'll turn me into Prompto stew!
[ Oh, this is so good! Noctis snorts in amusement, eyes bright -- the tension of the previous few moments is shed, enough that Noctis can properly appreciate this moment and their beloved Sparky, who sits in between their legs like he's always belonged there.
And perhaps he does, nestled so comfortably between their legs. He's nudging against him fondly, happy to be in such close vicinity as he challenges wickedly. After all, how often do they get moments like these anymore, when the greatest fear is Ignis turning Prompto into delicious stew? ]
Lemme see. Proof, or it's not true!
[ And so maybe Noctis wants some blackmail material on Prompto, too. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-07-19 02:45 pm (UTC)The important thing is this: Prompto hates him -- Noctis has never seen that look on his face before, and he knows, instinctively, that whatever went down had roused such a powerful, abiding hatred that he knows is entirely justified. Sparky cheeps in concern, wriggling out of Noctis' arms to waddle importantly to Prompto, evidently thinking something might be wrong with him.
He nods after a moment, taking in his story. Clearly, it's taking so much out of his best friend to relay this to him, and Noctis can't imagine what it must be like, being all alone, being told things like these... oh, how he wishes he was right there with him. Prompto must be struggling with it even now, he thinks, but he's not alone -- he's never alone, not as long as Noctis has something to say about it. ]
Can I see it? The codeprint.
no subject
Date: 2018-07-19 11:50 pm (UTC)But it's way less horrible to reveal than the truth he already shared. It's just skin. And ink, or something. Not like looking at all those hairless other hims in tubes. Not like hearing an old man's voice quickly twist with madness over time.]
Sure. I guess.
[First, though, he settles Sparky in his lap once more, scritching his fingers quickly through his feathers and bending to kiss his sweet little head. Here he is, buddy, Dad's fine. Only once that's done does he turn his arm over to tug at the buckle of his wristband, does he move the leather away from pale, unfreckled skin.
He offers Noct his wrist, showing him the black bars and meaningless strings of letters and numbers stamped on the back. NH-01987 on one side. 0006-0204 on the other. The scanner in the research facility called him some other number, he doesn't even remember.]
It's not really that exciting. [He shrugs, sort of stiffly, sort of resigned.] Kind of like groceries, right?
no subject
Date: 2018-07-20 04:26 pm (UTC)His fingers trace lightly over the bars and numbers, this set of prints that hold such sway over his best friend's life. Noctis doesn't say anything for a long moment -- what is there to say that won't sound hollow or trite? ]
Kind of.
[ He says at length, in lieu of something more appropriate. But he gives his wrist a quick squeeze. ] But you're way more important than groceries, though.
[ You're a proper, real person, he wants to say, and his best friend in the world. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-07-20 05:27 pm (UTC)I'd hope so, dude! I think Iggy'd have something to say about your priorities if you stormed the Imperial capital for a bunch of groceries.
no subject
Date: 2018-07-21 04:30 am (UTC)Yeah, imagine the look on his face.
no subject
Date: 2018-07-21 10:56 am (UTC)[Prompto rearranges his expression into what he thinks are severe, solemn lines, which really turns into more of a pout on him, and holds his shoulders up taller.]
"Well, Noctis, you've certainly come up with a new recipeh... for disaster."
[His accent. Is so bad.]
no subject
Date: 2018-07-24 11:53 am (UTC)That was terrible!
[ He chortles. ] Okay, okay. Let me try. [ Puffing himself up, nose in the air, Noctis uses his most posh, uppity accent. ]
You've cooked up quite the hare-brained scheme, Noct.
[ HIS IS WORSE. SORRY, IGNIS, THEY LOVE YOU. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-07-24 12:30 pm (UTC)"It's clear I ought have put more food for thought in your diet, hmm."
[The words are hardly out before he's snorting and chortling again, leaning over into Noctis with a hand on his back so he can bury his laughing face in his shoulder, all relief and tension and sorrow and need bubbling out in a giggly mess.]
no subject
Date: 2018-07-24 03:00 pm (UTC)After all, what use is there to bring down the mood now, when Prompto brightens and it feels like maybe, just maybe, there could be a glimmer of hope on the horizon. He's leaning against Prompto, seeking him out in his own ways even if he doesn't actively press forward, appreciating the simple warmth of just the both of them, enjoying a bout of jokes like they've always had. ]
"Or perhaps taught you which side your toast is buttered on.
[ But okay, this is fun. Is Ignis sneezing up a storm? Noctis is smiling, before he reverts to his usual tone. ] Can't believe he's only two years older than us, you know? It always seems like he's much older.
[ And yet, he's like them -- young, pushed out into the world and left to find their way around, tragedy nipping at their heels. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-07-24 03:20 pm (UTC)I'll tell you something.
[He lifts his head and lowers his voice.]
He's saved in my contacts list as "Number #1 Mum." [Immediately, he's grabbing Noct's hands, as if their phones work here and he might text Ignis right now.] Shhh, don't tell him! Don't tell him, he'll turn me into Prompto stew!
no subject
Date: 2018-07-27 03:22 pm (UTC)And perhaps he does, nestled so comfortably between their legs. He's nudging against him fondly, happy to be in such close vicinity as he challenges wickedly. After all, how often do they get moments like these anymore, when the greatest fear is Ignis turning Prompto into delicious stew? ]
Lemme see. Proof, or it's not true!
[ And so maybe Noctis wants some blackmail material on Prompto, too. ]