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lifeaftr2018-08-05 09:21 am
want_to_belong) wrote in lifeaftr2018-08-05 09:21 am
The Saddening
Who: Prompto, Chocobros, OTA
What: Event catchall for Prompto stuff
When: Over the duration of the event
Where: Mostly around the chocobro house
Warnings: Angst, pain, sad saps, sickness, potentially very poorly done confessions to girls. Dates may vary depending on what happens over the event.
August 6~7 - Running off - Chocobros
Prompto messily scrawled the words on a piece of wood using chalk from the noticeboard.
"Going to help unbury people. I'm fine."
The piece of wood was left at their house when no one was there and he snuck off. As soon as he started showing symptoms he knew he had to do something. He couldn't get Ignis or Gladio sick, but he didn't want them to worry about him. He couldn't live with himself if something happened to the guys because of him.
At first his intentions were true. He figured he might as well go help with the new people. That changed quickly as his symptons worsened. It felt like he was getting hit by a fever, and he decided to take a detour instead, looking for some small bit of cover that he could hide under and curl up. He'd really rather be snuggled up in a bed. His mind wandered off, thinking of all the cozy hotel rooms they used to stay in, all curled up in blankets. The best he had for now was his winter coat, which was at least warm if nothing else.
August 10~11 - Confessions - Chocobros
After being dragged back home and spending much of the time trying to become one with the few scrappy blankets they had, they had eventually learned that honesty was a cure. How did that even work? He half wondered if it was a bad joke. He didn't really think of himself as dishonest. He might put up a front or hide, but he was just trying to help his friends. He wasn't trying to be bad.
There was a lot he hid, of course, and he didn't even know where to begin. What would he have to say to make the sickness go away? Rather than sit up, he stayed curled up on the ground of their 'living room' of sorts, using one of the pillows they had from the tent as a headrest. He wasn't the big tough guy. He handled illness like a big baby - but at least a mostly quiet one. If he had a plush he would have happily been hugging it.
His eyes lazily followed the going-on's while he remained mostly silent, until he finally confessed quietly, "'m glad I'm home."
August 12~15 - Confessions - Girls
Sitting out by the water, Prompto half wondered if it would be easier to stay quiet and die rather than be open and honest to everyone. On the best of days he had trouble talking to girls, and they tended to travel in packs which was scary and intimidating. In his mind it was so easy - just tell the girls that he thought were pretty that he thought they were pretty. In practice he might have an easier time trying to digest a pile of dirt. Rejection was a lot more tolerable when he didn't take it seriously.
It didn't help that he found most girls his age attractive. It wasn't as if he even stuck that strictly to his own age - Iris had been 16, and Aranea had been 30. It wasn't his fault all girls were so damn pretty. It was unfair! The odds were stacked against him from the start.
He noticably tensed whenever a girl neared him, fearing confessing to them more than death itself. Moreso than usual. If he was rejected this time, it was really him they'd be rejecting. He couldn't dare to actually approach, so he sat by the water, choking back the symptoms of the illness while he skipped some rocks.
August 12~15 - Confessions - OTA
Prompto tended to keep negative feelings to himself. He didn't like to insult people, didn't like confrontation and didn't like to hurt anyone. Even when he was in pain he resisted. He wasn't the type to lash out.
Which made the whole honesty thing that much harder. He might end up burning a few bridges. Because of hurty limbs and overall aching, he stayed near the house with his back pressed up to a wall. He stayed mostly reserved, but he wouldn't ignore anyone who approached.
What: Event catchall for Prompto stuff
When: Over the duration of the event
Where: Mostly around the chocobro house
Warnings: Angst, pain, sad saps, sickness, potentially very poorly done confessions to girls. Dates may vary depending on what happens over the event.
August 6~7 - Running off - Chocobros
Prompto messily scrawled the words on a piece of wood using chalk from the noticeboard.
"Going to help unbury people. I'm fine."
The piece of wood was left at their house when no one was there and he snuck off. As soon as he started showing symptoms he knew he had to do something. He couldn't get Ignis or Gladio sick, but he didn't want them to worry about him. He couldn't live with himself if something happened to the guys because of him.
At first his intentions were true. He figured he might as well go help with the new people. That changed quickly as his symptons worsened. It felt like he was getting hit by a fever, and he decided to take a detour instead, looking for some small bit of cover that he could hide under and curl up. He'd really rather be snuggled up in a bed. His mind wandered off, thinking of all the cozy hotel rooms they used to stay in, all curled up in blankets. The best he had for now was his winter coat, which was at least warm if nothing else.
August 10~11 - Confessions - Chocobros
After being dragged back home and spending much of the time trying to become one with the few scrappy blankets they had, they had eventually learned that honesty was a cure. How did that even work? He half wondered if it was a bad joke. He didn't really think of himself as dishonest. He might put up a front or hide, but he was just trying to help his friends. He wasn't trying to be bad.
There was a lot he hid, of course, and he didn't even know where to begin. What would he have to say to make the sickness go away? Rather than sit up, he stayed curled up on the ground of their 'living room' of sorts, using one of the pillows they had from the tent as a headrest. He wasn't the big tough guy. He handled illness like a big baby - but at least a mostly quiet one. If he had a plush he would have happily been hugging it.
His eyes lazily followed the going-on's while he remained mostly silent, until he finally confessed quietly, "'m glad I'm home."
August 12~15 - Confessions - Girls
Sitting out by the water, Prompto half wondered if it would be easier to stay quiet and die rather than be open and honest to everyone. On the best of days he had trouble talking to girls, and they tended to travel in packs which was scary and intimidating. In his mind it was so easy - just tell the girls that he thought were pretty that he thought they were pretty. In practice he might have an easier time trying to digest a pile of dirt. Rejection was a lot more tolerable when he didn't take it seriously.
It didn't help that he found most girls his age attractive. It wasn't as if he even stuck that strictly to his own age - Iris had been 16, and Aranea had been 30. It wasn't his fault all girls were so damn pretty. It was unfair! The odds were stacked against him from the start.
He noticably tensed whenever a girl neared him, fearing confessing to them more than death itself. Moreso than usual. If he was rejected this time, it was really him they'd be rejecting. He couldn't dare to actually approach, so he sat by the water, choking back the symptoms of the illness while he skipped some rocks.
August 12~15 - Confessions - OTA
Prompto tended to keep negative feelings to himself. He didn't like to insult people, didn't like confrontation and didn't like to hurt anyone. Even when he was in pain he resisted. He wasn't the type to lash out.
Which made the whole honesty thing that much harder. He might end up burning a few bridges. Because of hurty limbs and overall aching, he stayed near the house with his back pressed up to a wall. He stayed mostly reserved, but he wouldn't ignore anyone who approached.
Confessions
Hello, dearie. Are you well?
[At least she's not likely to spur him on to any awkward romantic confessions, despite being a woman...?]
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[She really was one of the few girls he'd probably never have to worry about being nervous around. At least, not for that reason.
Cheer was gone, as was bounciness. Limbs were too stuff for that. His mind was mostly lingering around dark thoughts.]
...Don't like being sick.
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No, I can't blame you for that, it's quite unpleasant. Is there anything I can help you with? Food, perhaps, or water?
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[Normally he didn't ask for much beyond weaving or any other skills that people had, but today he thought he could get away with it.]
Are you sick?
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[She rummages around in her bag for a moment and pulls out a tightly-sealed, roughly-carved wooden jar of clean water, which she hands to Prompto with a smile. Really, she's just glad she can help people, under the circumstances.]
Slightly, I think- I've been showing some of the symptoms, but only fairly minor ones thus far.
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[Bad, she was sick. He didn't like to hear that.]
Good... I wouldn't recommend the major symptoms. It'd put a major damper on your day.
[Drumming up all his enthusiasm, he tried to show her a good display of humor. Much as he'd like to lie down and barf somewhere, he didn't want to worry her, and didn't want to appear weak.]
Thanks.
[He lifted the jar slightly before putting it to his lips and chugging it down. The second a sip of fresh water reached his lips he couldn't help it. He was so thirsty, he couldn't stop drinking. By the time he pulled the jar away he let out a heavy gasp and panted for air.]
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[Muffet would honestly be happier to know about people's problems than find out when they become too difficult to hide, but try telling most of this island that.]
Ah- careful, you wouldn't want to choke.
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[And he was still catching his breath for a moment. Not just from taking such a long chug, but from being clogged up in general. It made it really hard to act nonchalant about it all.
When his breathing finally steadied he rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and attempted to act calm.]
So, you're acting as a medic right now? ...I wonder if it's safe for you to be around us.
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Sadly, I suspect that it's something of a moot point. Even if I'm still fairly functional, I am already ill, so the time to worry about whether I might catch what you have is passed.
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You're still getting around okay, though? Maybe it won't effect someone of your, uh, species...? as much as it does humans.
[Best he could guess anyway. He could at least hope for her.]
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[Muffet grimaces slightly, and shrugs.]
Truth be told, it shouldn't even be possible for me to catch an illness at all- my biology simply doesn't work that way. Perhaps that's why I seem to be suffering from it less, but I'm not inclined to take chances with something that shouldn't be able to affect me in the first place.
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[Naturally, he knew well the downside human bodies could have, and struggled when he was younger with his health.]
It's still kinda hard to fathom some of that. Magic works so differently where you're from. I keep wanting to think that it's, like, connected to someone else.
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[She shakes her head slightly. How on Earth do humans manage like this?]
Nothing contagious, at least- our people can be born with chronic conditions, the kind of issue one inherits, but we don't catch anything.
[That gets a curious headtilt, the intricacies of magic in other worlds always an intriguing topic to her.]
Oh? Who would it be connected to, if I might ask? It's always so interesting to learn more about other worlds and the way they do things.
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[And aches and pain and everything else that went with being sick. Not recommended, 1/10 rating.]
All our magic was connected to the king. His Majesty had magic, and other people could borrow his magic if he let them. Like the Kingsglaive. They were kinda like soldiers? Nyx was one, if you remember him.
When His Majesty died, it... [He paused for a moment. They'd been keeping things quiet for safety, but the cat had been let out of the bag previously.] Well, that role was passed onto Noct. We could summon our weapons and all that because of him. But it was just us. He didn't have so many people borrowing his power.
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That's a rather fascinating power- could only kings share magic in such a way? In my world, one can use something that another person has put magic into, the way people can eat my food and be healed by it, but that isn't the same as giving them power directly...
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...Maybe that was a good thing. His dad was aging really fast. I think it takes a toll.
[Something he'd never discussed with Noctis, because 'Hey, your dad looks like he's dying' wasn't the happiest subject.]
It's weird to think of it just being a normal thing. It's more like, divine stuff back home.
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I confess, I find it strange to think of it as uncommon- it would be like not breathing, to us. Divinity, I'm afraid I can't speak on- we might have deities at home, but I've certainly never met them.
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So you guys don't know of any Astrals or anything? No, like, Storytellers or anything of your own? Or, have you just not met them?
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I helped Noct get to her, though! And, uh... [Sounding rather proud of his actions, he paused quietly there. There were bad memories associated with that, too.]
no subject
My, she sounds rather difficult to deal with. Fighting a god seemed unpleasant enough even with the Storyteller's assistance. Was your group standing against her by yourselves, or did you have divine support there, too?
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It's a lot different than what we've been doing here.
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It seems no one was quite prepared for the way things work, here. Many of us have bits and pieces of useful experiences, but I don't think anyone was ready for the whole of it. I wonder if that's why they took us all together...?
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We can probably wrap this soon unless you want to do more with it.
Sounds good to me, pretty old thread now