[At the sound of his own voice, he goes still and watches her. Just watches her, eyes wide, hand still over his mouth, as she opens like the rosebud he compared her to, comes out from where she hides.
Summer offers him her name. She shows him the gaping chink in the armor she's wrenched together of her own self, and gives him permission to--no. Asks him to reach through and touch that part of her she buried alive to keep safe.
A flower at the bottom of a treasure chest. His hand falls away from his face and joins the other, rising before him, to take the card from her.]
Okay.
[The light shifts again, but not to highlight anything for her. It highlights her. It gathers around her, a soft, full-body halo; now Summer must be the most important thing in the room.
Prompto's voice stays soft, and his eyes stay on her.]
no subject
Summer offers him her name. She shows him the gaping chink in the armor she's wrenched together of her own self, and gives him permission to--no. Asks him to reach through and touch that part of her she buried alive to keep safe.
A flower at the bottom of a treasure chest. His hand falls away from his face and joins the other, rising before him, to take the card from her.]
Okay.
[The light shifts again, but not to highlight anything for her. It highlights her. It gathers around her, a soft, full-body halo; now Summer must be the most important thing in the room.
Prompto's voice stays soft, and his eyes stay on her.]
Summer. Summer Moran. That's you.
[Despite everything, it's still you.
What was the first thing she ever said to him, bearing her own red light in her hands instead of his starshine glow?]
I'm not going to hurt you, Summer.