#barcodebullet

[dragonaeaarchive]

     ❛ you almost lost your camera, blondie. ❜

@barcodebullet // sc. 

[dragonaeaarchive]

   booted feet continue their path down the streets of lestallum, the constant darkness the only certainty lately. her feet come to a stop when she sees a familiar blonde just a ways away. lips curve upwards in a smirk as she cants her head. ❛ look what the chocobo dragged in. good to see you, blondie. ❜

@barcodebullet // sc. 

[argentesk]

          ★ ▌CONTINUED — ❛ @barcodebullet.

Laughter spills from between his lips at Prompto's choice of words. He’s not wrong—not by any stretch of the imagination. The last decade or so wasn’t even comparable to their time in the Magitek production facility and if anything, Propero found more of a home in the daemon-filled darkness than he had in crowded streets of people. 

“That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing since day one, isn’t it? Killing daemons and running from our problems.”

Not like they could solve this problem, anyways. Neither of them were the “King of Light” or whatever those prophecies said. 

[argentesk]

          ★ ▌STARTER CALL — ❛ @barcodebullet.

When things had gone to hell in a hand basket, it was like coming home. The world had fallen into ruin and Propero had never felt more welcome by it. Skills demanded of both he and his companion slowly dwindled away in the years that followed the final setting of the sun and the world came to suit them more than it ever had before. 

It was more like what they called home before this, but they were still alive. They weren’t thrown away for being “defective”, like outdated hardware. Where it had been near impossible for them to integrate into society before, they fit right in here. Nobody gave a second thought to their distrust in other people—and, at times, their shaky faith in each other when their origins reminded them of how easy it was to fake a smile, to falsify intentions...

And nobody gave a shit that two “two brothers” wandered the countryside, killing daemons for a chance to eat decent food and sleep with a roof over their head every few nights. It gave them an excuse to stray from people more, to be what they should be: Loners. 

This, however, is one of few times they’re mingling with people—or, well, lingering in their general vicinity, anyways. “Mingling” would imply either of them are paying them much mind and it’s easier not to. 

"Hey," he finally says, pulling the flyer back for Prompto to look at, gaze moving up to meet that of his clone's. "What about this one? Just a couple mind flayers harassing people on their way out of Lestallum. Doesn't sound too bad."