Ignis Scientia had been faced with many unspeakable horrors on his journey with his royal charge. Together with his king and his companions he had encountered the worst Daemons that had ever been formed, things whose very names and vaguest description could turn a man's blood to icewater in his veins. Beasts of unfathomable size and ferocity. Undead phantoms who breathed charnel secrets to their mortal prey. And strange chimeric monsters whose very bodies were revulsion made solid. All of them, Ignis had faced unwavering, for King and for comrade.
But here, at last, he had met his match.
"Huh," Gladio said, putting down everyone's luggage at once with a noise like a small avalanche. "That is one butt-ugly chair."
"It is," Ignis said, and though he meant to follow that with some adjective, confirmation, or exclamation, disgust closed his throat and he had to let the statement stand as it was.
"Motel furniture is so weird," Prompto agreed, as he craned around Gladio's bulk in a fruitless attempt to see. "Wanna play retro furniture bingo, Noct? Whaddya say? Is it gonna be plaid? Paisley? Orrrrr horrible floral pattern that looks like someone puking up several pounds of jellybeans while bungee jumping?"
Noct made a noncommittal noise. After countless nights in any number of musty, outdated, and disquietingly sticky motels, they had gotten quite good at this particular game. "My money's on... weird pastoral scenes in some unidentifiable color, or large suspicious stains."
"Oooh, good choices," Prompto said. "Right. Move it, Gladio, so we can see who's right about the--" Gladio moved, and Prompto Argentum was momentarily speechless at the sight of the chair. When he did manage to make a sound, it was one of disbelief. "Okay. Wow. I mean--wow. It's kind of... all those things."
"I didn't think it was possible for furniture to get Starscourge," Gladio put in, while Ignis closed his eyes, shuddered, and tried to suppress a moan of anguish.
Running Down A Dream (THAT'S RIGHT BITCHES) #35: Upholstery
