A New Dawn Rises | Accursed-Immortal
@accursed-immortal
The gun was solid in the blonde’s hand when the last Iron Giant had been slain, dissipating with the dawn rolling out over the landscape. It was a sight for sore eyes, and he squinted at it with a tight-lipped fatigue.
‘Don’t look into the sun, kid.’ ‘Let us make haste, Inside.’
The voices blurred to the background, and he felt nothing but numb as he walked up the steps to the citadel. He didn’t even hear the gun fall from his fingers, a hollow clatter upon the steps.
This would be the last time he walked upon these steps; Prompto had done his duty, for king and country. It was over. The light had come, yet why did he feel so strange.
Everything passed in a blur. He could recite by rote the eulogy given for his best friend, but the words held no meaning. They cleaned up the city as best as they could, but each night he couldn’t wait for the comfort of night to fall.
Days passed, and he never did quite shake it. Conversation with his friends had become scarce, but he knew they would be able to see that something was up. Eventually, he packed his bags, heading for the countryside.
“Gonna go see who’s still out there. Help with rebuilding things. Maybe see Cindy again.”
Those were the last words he spoke to the two. Cell service had gone by the wayside years ago, so not even a text of goodwill and good fortune could pass between them.
It became a blessing, really.
At first Prompto had thought it was simply the ten years spent guided by nothing but moonlight and scatterings of stars, for how badly his eyes hurt during the day. Then, his skin started revolting-- he wasn’t naiive, he knew he was pale, but it was uusally a day of looking like a cooked salmon before his skin was dotted anew with freckles.
This wasn’t... quite that. It got to the point where he’d hissed at the sun filtering through his borrowed window, pulling the covers under his head. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew that it wasn’t good.
Slowly, he made his way down the countryside. He had stopped off at Hammerhead first, attempting to kindle something with the lady of the garage, but there had been something missing. Trying to get the few cars left running had captured most of her passion, and his...
He was trying to find it. He continued down the way, shoes beating against the worn path. He helped people along the way, if he met them when the sun had gone down.
“Heh. Yeah. Never did get used to the sun.” He’d joke, when they asked why he slept during the day and only assisted them as the sun settled against the horizon. Such an excuse wasn’t uncommon during the early days, many had trouble adjusting after so long in the literal shadows.
By the time he had gotten down by the shore, Prompto hadn’t needed to keep up the pretense for weeks. No one had come down to the vacation resort in a long time, and it showed; vehicles were abandoned along the road, the wind had wrecked the signage, and it was difficult to imagine it was the same place that had catapaulted their journey, all those years ago.
The night on the beach Prompto learnt just what was happening to him, as one of the few daemons left manifested before him... And ignored him. With eyes too tired for the current world, he regarded the monstrosity silently, before side-stepping it and heading into the wreckage of the once scenic hotel and restaurant.
The sun would rise soon, and coughing some black sludge into his arm, he realised he didn’t want to be caught in it. He was tired, but he wasn’t that tired.
Prompto expected, maybe, a ruined bed that he could pull into a corner to sleep out of the sun’s rays, perhaps an old can of something expired and not-quite-edible (that he was going to eat anyway), but what he didn’t expect was to see an oddly familiar scarf, and the man wearing it.
“H-Hey.” He didn’t force himself to be chipper, no grin on his face. He’d fallen out of practice on the facade, really. Coughing once more into his elbow, wiping the sickly ichor from the side of his mouth, he asked, “Got any experience with this?”
Prompto didn’t really expect an answer, the last time he’d seen the man hadn’t exactly been pleasant, but then, maybe there’d be a chance that Ardyn could help. At the very least he could ask the man to put a bullet in his brain before he turned into something nasty, something they’d all sought to destroy.
But, gods, did he not want to die.
