WORDS THAT SLIP FROM A FORKED TONGUE strike a chord with the blond — an ADJUSTMENT to his stance as brows knit together. however, his aim does not FALTER; this man — no… this REPTILE would sway prompto’s thoughts; corrupt him. leaving his mind SECOND-GUESSING all of this. his motives for this stand-off would become UNNECESSARY. why the gunslinger was even LETTING such VILE words hang in the air was unknown to him — the chancellor’s SULTRY voice creeping its way through prompto’s ears, probing at his brain; SELF DOUBT was his worst enemy.
‘ i’m here to HELP, as i always have. you know this ‘
‘ young noctis acts of his own accord ‘amidst ardyn’s words, that now hindered the marksman’s aim, LOWERED his arm to AVOID a possible deadly strike, ❝ no…. you’re LYING – !! ❞ a new spark of RAGE fuels prompto to straighten his arm once more, pointing straight for the chancellor’s skull, despite signaling his lack of WEAPONS by holding his hands up into the air, ❝ noct would NEVER…. not unless you —- ❞ ( please —— you’re not a MURDERER )
there’s a click when the blond pulls back on the hammer, SOLIDIFYING his intent to kill as the chancellor takes a step forward. he couldn’t let ardyn’s words get to him. TRICKERY was his specialty; prompto would not let his mind be so EASILY swayed, ❝ ——- just…. just SHUT UP, alright – !? d-don’t come any closer – !! ❞ ( or what? you’ll SHOOT - ? as if you have the GUTS to take a human life ) as if ardyn was even HUMAN.
all of this… this is all WRONG. the confrontation on the train, the prince’s CLOUDED JUDGEMENT, ardyn standing before him — his life under prompto’s JURISDICTION.
when did the whole world fall to MADNESS – ?
wind’s ferocity — a marauder of the senses — pilfers merit of attire and sophistication of locks ( BURGUNDY IN TINGE ). they frolic, blinding and disorderly amidst propel of engine. the train’s haste practices an unyielding severity, its contesting urgency lasting far beyond departure. ‘ if the prince is not swift , i’m afraid my opportunity will pass —— now is not the time to dawdle , noct . do hurry up . ’
arbitrary glare of sun etches flecks of resilience within amber manipulation ( IRISES OF A TRICKSTER , PUPILS OF A CASANOVA ), the chancellor unphased by turbulence of the environment. the innocent struggles, exerted by misgivings of wrists. gravity taunts, qualms within poise lowering the gunman’s weapon to transitory mercy. ‘ no no no , not yet —— prompto , you mustn’t . your prince is so close , now . fear me . detest me . for i must gather your remains from the gorge he will thrust upon you . ’ a mere glance to the smear of a valley below; velocity slandering its consistency. surely one of them will meet its coarseness, and shortly.
a click. the blonde readily primes execution, whilst consenting the heavens to surmise flaws in his audacity. bravery quavers, shuddering beneath hands absent of his frame. ardyn needn’t touch him to affect, yet he strangulates prompto’s fluency, utterances fractured upon vacillating anatomy ( DEPLORABLE , YET ADVANTAGEOUS ). lips roll upon substitutions, a discretion of rejoinder lingering within tactic. to stir the hornet’s nest, or nestle the cub. an expedient choice.
“ you won’t do this , prompto . you cannot do this . you must believe , beyond all reasonable doubt , that i am guilty for what is happening if you are to ‘ pass judgment ’ —— but how ? it isn’t possible . your mind accounts for my loyalties , yet your hands betray our memories . remember , prompto . remember —— ” tick tick. noctis is almost here.
“ ———— you t r u s t me . ”