seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Finland
seen from Canada
seen from Jordan
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Bahamas
@promptsilver liked for a starter
“Oh, don’t look at me that way. It’s not my fault you stumbled into the wrong room. Honestly, one should almost be inclined to warn you to be more careful, but you were never one to follow such instruction, were you?”
promptsilver replied to your post: ��
A little “Eep!” gets let out, but overall he tries to keep his composure. “Sorry… it’s morning.” He whispered. “Don’t you… want to get up?”
“Mhhmm...getting up is for the weak and these blankets are too soft and warm to leave~” The god grumbled from the bed.
@promptsilver for staying up late and indulging my nonsense.
He’d taken to sitting up in the large bed, legs folded slightly as he stared almost blankly at the wall across from him. He couldn’t see it, so it hardly seemed to matter just where he looked, but he’d freaked out a few people already by laying there. Apparently he’d looked like he was asleep right up until the point where he’d asked who was in the room. So he’d just sat up and freaked people out, hazy blue eyes unfocused but looking still entirely aware of his surroundings.
So when he heard Gladio speaking to someone outside, the stranger’s voice just quiet enough that he couldn’t tell who it was through the closed door. Out of habit he turned to look at whomever would enter, only to laugh quietly and let eyes fall to what he could only assume was the corner of the bed. He can hear the shifting of fabric and soft footfalls, so it wasn’t Gladio coming to see him again, and the fact that he couldn’t tell who it was had him embarrassed despite himself. Shouldn’t he have known the difference in their footsteps?
“H-hey. Coming with good news?”
In these instances when Prompto felt it was safe to actually get this close to Ardyn, he clung to any words that came his way, eyes wide, still the same curious boy he once was, but now only curious for Ardyn. Over time, and during their new closeness, Prompto noticed starscourge seeping into his own body. At first he was delighted. Something they could share. The pain was immense however, in the end he only admired Ardyn more for suffering the affliction so long. He had wondered if the disease hurt Ardyn’s heart – he didn’t mention how his own chest throbbed every now and then, and he masked any bout of pain.
Even now, he wore his Kingsglaive jacket, just to hide the blackish-purple hues that were forming under his skin. Although, Prompto said he wore it for other reasons. He was the servant of a king now, wasn’t he? So it was only proper he wear it in Ardyn’s presence. With a very trembling hand, Prompto put his palm on Ardyn’s chest, where his heart would be. Then, he leaned his head forward, and pressed his ear to Ardyn. He heard nothing. No echo of a heart, no soft sounds of a breath, no rise and fall of his chest. Yet Ardyn was warm, and he rested his head there for just a moment, eyes shut.
When Prompto lifted his head, greyish tears were running down his face. The starscourge didn’t show in his eyes, but ever so often, his tears would run from clear, to ink-like black. The tears dripped down his chin, onto his uniform. He wiped his eyes with gloved hands, and wrung his hands tightly, trying to cease his ‘useless crying’ as he reminded himself it was. “It must’ve hurt.” Prompto whispered, with his head low. “To take all of those daemons in… you’re brave.” He wished for that bravery, for that strength. But Prompto knew the truth was that he didn’t have that, he was weak, cowardly, and useless. So he fought himself, trying to make himself useful in any way. For a while now, he’d tried to deepen his affliction of the scourge, hoping to lighten Ardyn’s own affliction. Ardyn usually pushed him away, but today he felt lucky, he was hoping maybe he could try again.
@promptsilver
The silver tongued chancellor was well versed in the art of manipulation and the little, broken boy that now pressed firmly against him was the perfect plaything. It was true that Ardyn regularly pushed the boy away. He kept him at arms length, all the while slowly inserting himself, piece by piece, bit by bit. A careful game to weave the soul of Prompto to his will and into his hands.
The boy was so wonderfully broken, now. Now was the proper time for the Accursed to sew him back together. Make him in his own image.
Long, nimble fingers casually ran themselves through spiked blonde hair, the King not attempting to move the connection between the two. He let the young man stay there, listening to his chest. Ardyn’s chest did not rise and fall. No breath could be heard going through lungs. His insides were pure rot and the housing of thousand demons. There was no room for anything human in there anymore.
But the THING wearing human skin certainly could act the part. There were parts of him that REMEMBERED.
As Prompto looked up at him, Ardyn noted the black sludge that had begun to ink it’s way down the boy’s face. He supposed it could be like looking in a mirror. Looking at his TRUE face. Such a lovely thing, the boy could be. Oh, Ardyn certainly could make him BEAUTIFUL. Lithe, surprisingly soft fingertips moved to brush the tears away, holding Prompto’s head in his open palms. Their gaze locked in a strange intimacy that he knew the gunslinger would not be able to tear away from.
His. Prompto was all HIS and he would play with him as he saw fit.
“Do not try to FIND me, boy. You are not ready to wallow inside of me.”
He whispered in their closeness before finally dropping Prompto away.
@promptsilver
a softer world sentence starters.
“Maybe that’s not far from the truth.” Prompto replied after a moment pause. He brought the camera down away from his eye, and looked to the woman speaking to him. He put his hands on the metal railing behind himself, leaning on it. “Photographs are made out of captured light, yeah? And the King’s job is to protect light, it’s in their blood and everything. That whole Cosmogony oracle thing says royalty came from the gods and the gods came from space so…”
“Uh, I dunno, I guess it’s not wrong.” He smirked a little, and put his camera down, letting it hang off his neck. “But if you’re trying to say you don’t want me to take pictures of you or something, you can just say so, yeah?”
She didn’t mind the picture at all. At some point in the future, she’d maybe want to look back at herself and see the improvement she went through all these years. But Illya always found it a bit funny how people had superstitions such as the mere flash of a camera could capure one’s essense and soul. However, the blond guy offered an insight over that matter that she just couldn’t help but chuckle.
“How philosophic. Don’t worry, you’re not gonna capture something I don’t have” Illya was obviously joking now, but laughed awkwardly in the odds of her sounding more serious than the expected.
“You’re a professional photographer of something like this?”
@promptsilver cont. from this Ask
Verstael hated asking things from Ardyn. That man was all play, surely. So, naturally, it came as no surprise to find the prisoner, who should have been securely locked away, to be missing.
It took only a few moments for the old man to put out an order, one of recapture to bring the boy back to his hold. Thankfully, with the amount of Magitek Troops about, it didn’t take long before his captive was sitting back in his chair, with perhaps one or two new bruises to litter his frail looking frame.
“Awake now, are we?” Came Verstael’s grumbling voice. “Allow me to introduce myself, though with your mental capacity, you may just forget it in time. I am Minister Verstael Besithia. Head of Imperial Research.” Not that he cared all that much for the introductions, coming closer to inspect the young man; he could still make a fine experiment.
@promptsilver continue from here
Tired. All he could feel was tired even as he woke up from the sounds of someone moving around in his house. The night before was great, staying up towards the latish hours of the night just having a good old time because they had finished school and were finally done with the damn thing.
Yawning softly, the prince didn’t even seem to notice that his friend was nearly ass naked in his house. He stared, eyes half laid and bed head galore as he blinked,
“ ......Prompto....what the hell you’re dripping water every where. ”
He groaned turning his body and letting his feet drag against the wood floor over to the closet where most of the towels were kept. Grabbing one, he walked over and handed it to his blonde friend when something caught his eye.
Was....was that make up on the counter? Who the hells was it? Rubbing his eyes so that his vision was a little better, Noctis picked up the concealer and stared at it for a minute before his eyes dragged up to Prompto’s.
“ 𝓦hat’s up with the make up? ”
@promptsilver / continued from. . .
at his attempt to distract her, the oracle is left somber. “ prompto, you’re sick. ” and it’s then, slowly, does she offer a hand; his bangs being pushed up before placing the back of her right to his FOREHEAD. “ you’re pale as death, not to mention you’re burning up . . . ”
though her hands cold; luna could still tell, from single touch ALONE, that he was running a fever. “ please, be honest now— how long have you been in this state ? ”
