[He's confused two-fold: one because presents? and the other because he's mostly asleep when he answers the texts. He's still half-asleep when he stumbles into the kitchen.]
[You know what is an absolutely amazing thing to experience first thing in the morning? Your best friend suddenly popping out of the darkness holding a single muffin with a small, half gone candle sticking out of it. Of course, it doesn't produce any outward light, but it's the thought that counts, right?]
Before you ask, Ignis made it. I'm only allowed in the kitchen to eat and do dishes.
[Clearly they have two different definitions of 'amazing', because Prompto would put that experience closer to 'terrifying'. It's a good thing he's not in the habit of drawing a gun when startled.]
Sweet Lady Shiva dude, don't do that!
[But he does appreciate the muffin and its sad little candle and makes a grab for it.]
Do you even do the dishes? I thought he ended up doing those, too.
[When Prompto walks into his room, he will find by his pillow a knitted chocobos. A few of them. Some look like failed attempts at it, but somehow manage to still look half-decent. There is a card laid next to them, with written "Happy Kwehsmas" on it, but with no name.]
On Tuesday, Prompto will notice a figure clad in dark robes and a bronze mask dash into the Invincible. They emerge not five minutes later, and the clinking in the messenger bag they wear suggests that more than a few bottles were taken. Oh, no, it's definitely bottles; they've got some whiskey gripped tightly in one hand.
No one was meant to see them, but there Prompto is, looking anyway. The figure pauses in the doorway. Glances to either side; then, when they see no one else is near, offer Prompto a friendly, if not awkward, little wave. Hey!
They flee a moment later, racing towards the forest. No matter how he tries, he won't be able to catch them.
He's not the alcohol police, and aside from the mask, this figure appears to be person-shaped and therefore must just be someone he hasn't met before. Or has met, they're wearing a mask for Reasons? He offers his own awkward wave back and is about to ask what they're in such a hurry for.
But then they flee, and he stays there confused for a couple seconds before going after them. He's got a lantern to run with and they've got a head start, so he's quickly left behind. Probably for the best.
[Lo and behold, a pretty stone, innocently left who knows where in the snow. Within it, a fairly straightforward summation of its owner's youth, told in flashes, vignettes, quick bursts that bleed freely into one another with no order beyond being seemingly chronological.
A child, perhaps a little young to be walking to school alone, does precisely that. This is the heart of swampland, almost oppressively lush on all sides, all but screaming with wildlife. She seems nonplussed. Pleased, even. Plenty to peer at on the way.
Some pair activity in class. To clear, if mild, dissatisfaction, she's working with the teacher. The appeal is diminished when there's no classmates one might be excited to choose from, it seems.
A recess, spent birdwatching up in a tree. Nothing else to do. Swings are all taken, nobody wants to play much of anything.
A return home, greeted by nobody. Too nice a day to spend inside, and after a moment's rummaging through narrow cupboards in a small kitchen she's right back out - looking, perhaps, the happiest she'll be through all of this. Flat on her stomach in front of still waters, observing alligators from precariously high overhanging branches, walkman at her hip, the closest she comes to being in an element. Years blink by in this manner. She and the thick of the wilderness, nearing peace.
School remains the domain of solo-partner projects, lunches taken with no company but headphones and occasionally a book, valentines spent only as a receptacle for unwanted chalky hearts, walks to and from, peering around a little more desperate for noise now.
They're old enough to be fighting, now, and it's more than once a gauntlet is thrown down over the well being of a salamander, a nesting bird, a toad. She loses as often as she wins, but she doesn't ever stop.
A mother is always present for what seems to be dinners at home, but she and her daughter are both clearly lost in their own worlds. The boys get old enough that fighting girls get to be gauche, and bruises largely cease to be a fixture of her appearance. The teenaged years are...quieter, overall. Resigned, if sadder for newfound self awareness. Perhaps the worst of it all is staring out a window, remembering something funny, and just beginning to turn before remembering nobody would want to hear it.
Then the Misty of today, lingering to the sides of a room with several other women, looking distinctly ill at ease. Curled up in a carefully decorated little shack in the wilderness, staring at the ceiling while candles burn down. Seated at a bus stop on Los Angeles, looking thoroughly dead to the world around her.
The next time Prompto visits the post office, the Postmaster General will hand him a letter from Robin!
Hi Prompto!
Thank you SOOOOOOOOOO much for the pictures!!! Aww and there's even one with the races! This is so sweet!! I hung them all up in my command center up in the lighthouse so I can look at them all while I chat with everyone. :)
I made you something to say thank you. O: Tell everyone I said hello, and give that bounce house a couple good jumps for me!!
❤︎ Robin
[Enclosed in the envelope is an SD card that contains a basic photo editing app! It's about as extensive as Instragram or other similar photo-sharing apps that allow you to touch up pictures with filters and such before you post them.
The app can be shared with others, and if Prompto chooses to release the app to the town at large, let us know and we'll at it to the tablets & network page!]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@regina
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Maybe? i've never heard that name before
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[ boo. pietro's supposed to be damn cute, so eliot was sort of hoping. ah, well. ]
don't worry about it
so why quicksilver?
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it's my name
prompto = quick
argentum means silver...one thing I definitely remember from science class.
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@kingsknight
Because I find you a-dough-able
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dude
u okay?
[Is...he flirting? He's not sure what to make of this.]
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[It's impossible to know, really.]
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u just don't do that a lot u kno
But I'm also more of a baguette
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@kingsknight; backdated to the 25th
Time to get up birthday boy
Iggy made breakfast
And we have a present for you
Better get down here before I decided to keep it for myself
text --> action
whu
why
ont steal my presents
[He's confused two-fold: one because presents? and the other because he's mostly asleep when he answers the texts. He's still half-asleep when he stumbles into the kitchen.]
M'up hello?
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Before you ask, Ignis made it. I'm only allowed in the kitchen to eat and do dishes.
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Sweet Lady Shiva dude, don't do that!
[But he does appreciate the muffin and its sad little candle and makes a grab for it.]
Do you even do the dishes? I thought he ended up doing those, too.
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1/2
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@kingsknight; Once they get back from lake n o p e
Hey, if you're not busy
I was thinking of heading out for a while
Want to come with?
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Mmno
as long as we're not venturing into the unknown again, sure
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Nah
Just wanted to go back and check out the armory
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so it wasn't that bad
gimme a minute then
[It's more like five minutes, but he does eventually show up in person.]
I haven't been to the armory yet. Is there anything good in there?
[Read: guns.]
text; @fleuret
text
I'm awake. somehow.
where are you?
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i mean, not surprised noct still is, but...well, glad they're safe for now. um yeah, gimme a minute.
[He doesn't want to step away from people too long, but he'll wait (very nervously) for Luna to come meet him.]
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Christmas Eve/Day
There is a card laid next to them, with written "Happy Kwehsmas" on it, but with no name.]
???
No one was meant to see them, but there Prompto is, looking anyway. The figure pauses in the doorway. Glances to either side; then, when they see no one else is near, offer Prompto a friendly, if not awkward, little wave. Hey!
They flee a moment later, racing towards the forest. No matter how he tries, he won't be able to catch them.
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He's not the alcohol police, and aside from the mask, this figure appears to be person-shaped and therefore must just be someone he hasn't met before. Or has met, they're wearing a mask for Reasons? He offers his own awkward wave back and is about to ask what they're in such a hurry for.
But then they flee, and he stays there confused for a couple seconds before going after them. He's got a lantern to run with and they've got a head start, so he's quickly left behind. Probably for the best.
SAD OPALS FROM THE VOID ABOVE
A child, perhaps a little young to be walking to school alone, does precisely that. This is the heart of swampland, almost oppressively lush on all sides, all but screaming with wildlife. She seems nonplussed. Pleased, even. Plenty to peer at on the way.
Some pair activity in class. To clear, if mild, dissatisfaction, she's working with the teacher. The appeal is diminished when there's no classmates one might be excited to choose from, it seems.
A recess, spent birdwatching up in a tree. Nothing else to do. Swings are all taken, nobody wants to play much of anything.
A return home, greeted by nobody. Too nice a day to spend inside, and after a moment's rummaging through narrow cupboards in a small kitchen she's right back out - looking, perhaps, the happiest she'll be through all of this. Flat on her stomach in front of still waters, observing alligators from precariously high overhanging branches, walkman at her hip, the closest she comes to being in an element. Years blink by in this manner. She and the thick of the wilderness, nearing peace.
School remains the domain of solo-partner projects, lunches taken with no company but headphones and occasionally a book, valentines spent only as a receptacle for unwanted chalky hearts, walks to and from, peering around a little more desperate for noise now.
They're old enough to be fighting, now, and it's more than once a gauntlet is thrown down over the well being of a salamander, a nesting bird, a toad. She loses as often as she wins, but she doesn't ever stop.
A mother is always present for what seems to be dinners at home, but she and her daughter are both clearly lost in their own worlds. The boys get old enough that fighting girls get to be gauche, and bruises largely cease to be a fixture of her appearance. The teenaged years are...quieter, overall. Resigned, if sadder for newfound self awareness. Perhaps the worst of it all is staring out a window, remembering something funny, and just beginning to turn before remembering nobody would want to hear it.
Then the Misty of today, lingering to the sides of a room with several other women, looking distinctly ill at ease. Curled up in a carefully decorated little shack in the wilderness, staring at the ceiling while candles burn down. Seated at a bus stop on Los Angeles, looking thoroughly dead to the world around her.
The long and short of it, really.]
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Hi Prompto!
Thank you SOOOOOOOOOO much for the pictures!!! Aww and there's even one with the races! This is so sweet!! I hung them all up in my command center up in the lighthouse so I can look at them all while I chat with everyone. :)
I made you something to say thank you. O: Tell everyone I said hello, and give that bounce house a couple good jumps for me!!
❤︎ Robin
[Enclosed in the envelope is an SD card that contains a basic photo editing app! It's about as extensive as Instragram or other similar photo-sharing apps that allow you to touch up pictures with filters and such before you post them.
The app can be shared with others, and if Prompto chooses to release the app to the town at large, let us know and we'll at it to the tablets & network page!]