THE WORLD, AS PROMPTO KNEW IT, WAS MADNESS; hate was all that filled the eyes of the person he knew as his best friend — the DESIRE to destroy him. it was there, atop the train, where the ace RECOLLECTED recent memory in which the crowned prince chased him, INTERROGATING him as to WHY he was following him around all this time. how it was all his FAULT. something was not sitting right within the pit of his stomach — appendages TREMBLE as they grasp the handle of his pistol, now pointing at the cause of all of this. THE CHANCELLOR — ardyn izunia. it was all starting to make sense; the reason why everything was going to hell.
❝ ————– IT’S YOU. what did you do to noct – ?! ❞ courage does not seem to be the blond’s STRONG SUIT. it’s true, that the prince would not have easily take up arms against his best friend — SURELY, the chancellor did something to him to allow this CLOUDED JUDGEMENT. the way he looked at prompto, with such DISDAIN.
‘ you can’t talk your way out of this one – !! ‘
( you won’t even LET me )
his fingers tremble upon the trigger, brows knitting together as FEAR creeps up upon him. never in his whole life had he ever held a person up by gunpoint; with full INTENTION of ending their life. prompto needed answers — he wanted to know WHY noctis would try to kill his best friend. SHAKING does not ease, not until his other hand ASSISTS in steadying his aim, ❝ no tricks. i won’t let you ESCAPE — not until you give me some ANSWERS ❞ ( starter // @daemonizing )
a pitiable massacre, this juvenile ‘ friendship ’. so easily polluted — befouled — by dexterous articulation of spite. a facile warmth percolates tainted lungs, satisfaction of resonance to his voided core. observation insists, attentive interception deferred until brusque emergence of magitek enforcements rattle the train’s equilibrium. UNSTABLE. symmetric chaos guises ardyn’s illusion — a fantastical nightmare for the heir of lucis in pursuing what he perceives to be his ’ enemy ’. reality, enslaved to the chancellor, has different intensions. HUNT THE GUNMAN. presumptuous success in fortifying a haze of deception over gaze of young noctis is secured; endorsed by his physically assaulting who ardyn knows to be his closest friend. neither can attest their intentions above the other. the young prince would sooner asphyxiate the ( blonde ) chancellor between pressure of arm and solidity of wall. perfect.
donning the personality of an exuberant youth was not an easy task. an expendable façade, no less, as now the cub tempers his claws — flares his teeth — and absconds from the chancellor’s subjugation. TEMPORARY. the little one hesitates, finger inhibited by the fear of taking a life. a tremor of his slender appendages dissembles prompto’s reluctance, ardyn placating the boy’s role of incertitude by lifting palms aside shoulders. BLAMELESS. do not pull the trigger, not now.
“ prompto , you don’t really believe that —— ? after all i’ve done for you and your friends ? i’m not here to trick you , i’m here to help as i always have —— you know this . ” an infiltrating fallacy twists along his words, ambiguous. would the boy come to believe him, about his beloved prince? that the ‘ formidable ’ temper of his sovereign was a genuine outburst against his character? their friendship? if not now, he will.
“ young noctis acts of his own accord — i have yet to find him , amidst the disarray … ” a step forward from the chancellor lapses prompto’s anxiety, both arms readily fastened to criminality. MANSLAUGHTER. noctis’s combat of the skies nears conclusion, he mustn’t stall much longer. digits remain in linger, held away from his layered attire and adjacent to shoulders, so as to insinuate he is unarmed.
“ please ——— you’re not a murderer . ”
( I AM )