ofargentum:

              A  FELL  VOICE  —-  ONE  THAT  CAN  ONLY  BE  ARDYN’S,  swiftly reaches the blond’s ears;  prying,  probing, causing  DOUBT  within his mind  (  which he had been so sure before  )   no.  prompto could not let the chancellor get under his skin. though, something about the way those  EYES stared at him,  as if he could see straight through him. it festered an  UNSETTLING  sensation within the pit of his stomach.  

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                 ——-  no….  i  said  SHUT UP,  alright?!   ❞  the gunslinger takes an  IMMEDIATE  step back,  his stance  WAVERING  upon such circumstances. an outstretched arm  CEASES  in its attempt to hold up his firearm  —–  the boy’s troubled mind holding him back,     just  —–  l-let me think for a second…  ❞   but time was not a  LUXURY.  prompto did not have it.  in fact,  he was living on  BORROWED  time,  at this point.  the sooner noctis destroyed the airships,  the better.   SURELY  the prince would see to reason,  with the blond holding ardyn up at gunpoint.

                                     ‘   ——   you   T R U S T   me  ‘

                     those words are what  RESONATE  with him the most.  what shakes him to his very core. the blond stands upon the train,  the wind smacking against his ears  —-  the  NOISE  too much to bear.  all these  noises….  

                          you  SERIOUSLY  expect me to believe you didn’t have anything to do with this?!   why  noct  —-  
                                                            ‘  prompto  
 !!  ‘

                   
   the voice of his best friend  RISES  to the blond’s ears in hope,  for the tone is that of  CONCERN  for his well being.  though,  such thoughts are cut short when the prince swings upon the other’s arm,  which was  OUTSTRETCHED towards the chancellor. the force is a chain reaction  —  which causes the young rook to drop his firearm;   PAIN  surged through his arm,  a cut formed from the blade which had struck him.  there’s a  FLASH  —  of  eyes that normally were coloured of the ocean;  instead were filled with  FIRE.  hatred.  LOATHING.  eyes that hated him.  it choked him up  —  allowing a lump to rise within his throat.  a feeling in which he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.  the feeling of everything you thought you knew about a person…  WAS A LIE.   ‘  noct…  do you   REALLY  hate me that much  –  ?  ‘  

                       it isn’t long until the forceful palms of the prince shove against prompto’s chest,  pushing him off the moving train.  &&  everything went black.

collateral damage of limbs’ bewilderment tightens a snare about the pallor of prompto’s neck ( all the better to fall with ). his executioner, not the disputed allure of the chancellor, but the sightless retaliation of his beloved noctis. deception transfigures reality, a smear of compelling illusions counter the wrathful descent of their future king. footwear lands; the boy stumbles and charges — onyx features suspending all manipulative interjections from ardyn ( prompto ). identities reversed, sentences overturned — “ ardyn ” assumes submission of the pistol before him yet again. ‘ noctis help me , ’ his eyes plead; irreverence for the duo painted over by layers of exterior, artificial fear ( of “ himself ” , how comical ).

“ prompto — !! ”
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certainty fractures, and within the last instance of opportunity — a passing retreat — ardyn bows beneath noctis’s projected assault. to underestimate the boy’s ability to “ see ” inspires swift curvature of a height not his own, as perhaps the caelum had overcome his crafted, fraudulent visions. no such luck allayed the little gunman. he fell for it. this was only the beginning of your suffering.

the prince dishonours himself, taking the offensive against that of an innocent — an ally. the incursion of pain to possess the blonde’s body as armiger meets flesh, a fortune most familiar to the accursed in observance, rivals that of the mind’s capacity to damage. ‘ yes —— well done , noct . you make it so easy for me . it is astounding , how naïve you are to our world’s dishonesty . you have far to go , before you will ever be king . ’

ruinous judgment elicits poise of dominance ( the act is his , draw the curtain ). ardyn shifts within leisure, a method of gratified ankles, to the proximity of noctis’s trauma. only now as the mirror to authentic perception ruptures before him — gazing at the plummeting grief of a lifelong companion — do the roles return.

“ how long were you in the dark —— ? ” as though history sneers upon them, accenting the blunder of the crystal’s second choice, ardyn belittles. with revolver in hand, a token of punishment collected from the depths of noctis’s oversight ( the platform beneath their feet ), he clouts its rigidity over tenderness of the upper neck.

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paralysation concludes their skirmish; limbs holding no ground to the kingdom, only weight as the heir drops. ardyn neglects catching him, for what purpose would it serve to ease his pain? he was not the one to have been shoved off a train.

“ —— we will meet again , your majesty . ” a nudge from solitary boot is the extent of his civility in departure. “ i must be off collect your abandoned toy . if he survived your little push without so much as a scrape on his knee , i will be sure to give him a few cracks for you . ”

 

allow me

❛ Each night you t e a r apart a name, calling yourself everything but the light. ❜

to regale you

this is an indie roleplay blog for
Ardyn Izunia
from final fantasy xv.
( she / her )

|
EST. 11/30/16

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base code editing completed by
lucifer


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tracking the tag:
#daemonizing

with a tale

this blog contains major SPOILERS from kingsglaive & ffxv.

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