Who told you so, dilly dilly, Who told you so? ‘Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, That told me so.
ouch is one of the most intimate, romantic ways to be close to someone else. The Town knows this very well -- the Town wants everyone to be as close as possible.
Perhaps that's why this bonding is so...aggressive.
Because you're in for quite the shock on this otherwise peaceful day when you brush against the next person on your path.
Maybe you're going out of your way to touch people. Maybe you've got a terrible urge to just see what's lurking in someone's heart. Maybe you trip over a conveniently placed rock -- whatever the cause, you're getting an up close and personal look into someone else's heart.
Welcome to Awash's eighteenth event log, everyone! Further information on this event can be found here at the OOC post. You are welcome to make your own logs and posts for this event!
If there are any questions, please ask them here. Thank you!
[Prompto's heart is a child's room seen from a child's perspective. Everything's just a little larger than expected; the walls are high, the furniture stumpy-looking in the way of things made for children yet still spacious, the colors soothing and cheerful. While charmingly cozy, the room's also endless in the way dream rooms are, so that looking left and right, there's a new wall, extra space, but it's all just more of the same. Inoffensive colors. Books about dogs, photography, yellow birds. It's a picture of generic boyhood, if a little lonely. A little empty, somehow.
But there's still something weird about this space. Something a little unsettling.
Standing in here too long eventually gives rise to a teetering sensation, like the floor's tilted just enough you might fall backwards if you're not careful--and backwards, inexplicably, is somewhere you don't want to go. Something's lurking back there, looming behind you, and you know with gripping dread that you don't want to turn and see what it is. If you look, you'll fall--and who knows what's back there, who knows where, or if, you'll land. Who knows who--or what--will catch you.
Good thing there's so many photos before you to latch onto. Each features the people and things Prompto loves--namely, some handsome boys, a gorgeous city, chocobos, and, if you catch the flashes of red, a girl. (There are some other girls, too, but the camera doesn't linger on them with the same reverent attention it devotes to her.) There are other landscapes, other animals. A woman more like a nebulous dream of moonlight than a flesh and blood person.
More than the walls, the photos cover all the windows and mirrors. In none of them is Prompto younger than fifteen, despite the childishness of the room, and he always seems a little less defined than everything else.
Spending too much time trying to make him out in the photos makes noises--creaks--metallic sounds and voices start up behind you, indistinct but all the more eerie for it.
But if you turn around, you'll fall.]
I don't... see a door.
[Pale but staring resolutely forward, Prompto seems to feel the same.]
[It was inevitable, perhaps, that she would end up here eventually, with the catalyst to her transport here being a shared touch. At least it's not the first time that something equally bizarre like this has occurred — magic in Nevermorrow is strange that way — and so when she arrives, the first order of business isn't shock and wonder; it's simple practicality. Assess the situation, identify dangers. Figure out the logic that the space operates on. Take stock of what's there, the things she's perceiving and also the things it's telling her to perceive, and make sense of them.
She figures out immediately that she doesn't want to turn around. Absolutely, positively, does not want to turn around. And since she's not about to make the same mistakes as Orpheus, well.
She heads for the photos, instead, at first just to see what clues might be hiding in them, but then shortly thereafter with a sharp astonishment that some of the pictures are of her.
(Okay. Don't turn around, don't look back. That means to get back to Prompto, she's got to stay oriented toward the mirror and walk backwards into hell.)
He's right, though. There's no exit, except that there's always an exit in places like this. The fact that there isn't one visible is just invitation to find it.]
Hey. Gimme your hand.
[She extends hers, likewise keeping her eyes forward as she lines herself up with him in her retreat.]
First step is to make sure we stick together, right?
[The simple order startles Prompto, and then gratitude washes over everything and brightens the whole room. Literally, actually. Prompto's heart seems to like Summer's thinking, so the ominous pressure of whatever that is behind them lightens, a little more sunlight trickles in around the edges of the photos over the windows. It's not enough to hurt anyone's eyes, just enough to ease some of the horror genre potential in here.
Prompto slides his hand into Summer's and gives it a thankful squeeze.]
Yeah. We got this.
[A couple more beats of looking around--exploring the three directions that don't make the hairs rise on the back of his neck--Prompto sighs and swallows.]
I guess it's something to do with me, right? Like, that part's not real subtle. It's... it looks a lot like my room when I was a kid, though I didn't do anything like that with my pics. What is even going on...
[After trailing off for a moment, he turns his attention back to Summer, eyes steady.]
If it is--I don't know, mine somehow, then nothing's gonna hurt you here. You're totally safe.
[Another little squeeze.]
Promise.
[That seems important to establish before they start this bizarre point-and-click mystery game.]
[Oh. Well. That's something worthy of note, isn't it. She's going to have to keep that in mind going forward; the things she does make the environment react, and whatever it was she did there, the environment thought that was a good thing. It doesn't feel quite so oppressive in here anymore. That's definitely a start.]
Lucky for you I'm pretty good at this kind of thing. Mystery solving and...y'know. Bullshit.
[She laughs softly, watching him.]
So you keep me safe, and I'll...try to figure out how to get us home. If that's how this plays out. Right?
[The little, flickering smile that warms his face totally ruins the attempt to look sternly disappointed.]
Even if you just called my... crazy funhouse photo room bullshit. So mean.
[The light levels flutter again, like a shy blinking and lowering of eyes, like the room almost doesn't want to be looked at, but... it's her. It's Summer.
Nothing so glaring or obvious as spotlights come up, but the available light does seem to gather softly around a few objects in the room. The largest include:
i. The photos--or more specifically, Prompto's out-of-focus form in the photos; ii. A toy chest by the bed; and iii. A child-sized desk in the corner by the photo-covered window.
But the lights touch on a couple other things, too. A pair of eyeglasses on the nightstand, the closet door, empty photo frames where family might be.]
Uh, sure. My weird dream bedroom is your... okay, no, that's gonna sound weird if I say it out loud.
[Especially since Noct grilled him about "gross things" they could do the other day. Nope, now this is nobody's weird dream bedroom! No weird bed dreams here!
Weird dream beds notwithstanding, what Prompto was beginning to say might hold some truth. The room might not be hers, per se, but the toy chest responds to her interest with another of those shy, but eager shivers, drawing in on itself while still offering itself to her inspection.
In fact, even before she reaches it, a tiny click signals its latch opening, and the lid opens just a crack.
[She pauses in the opening of it, sitting back a little but still supported on nothing but the tips of her toes, which ends up looking patently funny as she's balanced on about a third of her foot with her knees out in front and her cloak dwarfing her utterly from behind.]
...But this one is here. And I know how your mind works.
[She motions to the lid of the chest, then briskly sings the Zeldaverse "just opened a chest" tune.]
Ten to one there's a dungeon prize in here, don't you think?
[He laughs suddenly, because the jingle cuts the lingering tension from balancing on the off-kilter floor.]
My soul-spelunking adventure would be an RPG, wouldn't it? I'll call it... SilverQuest! No, wait, it could be like a spin-off of King's Knight--Prince's, uh, Pal!
[He cracks up again and comes to crouch beside her.]
Do you want me to open it for you, in case it's dangerous? [His smile freezes and then falls.] It could be a Mimic.
[DA-NA-NA-NAAAAAAAAA! Summer found: GUNS! Prompto stares, a hand to his forehead, before rubbing the back of his neck.]
...Okay, I definitely didn't have my own home armory. My parents would not have let that fly, holy crap.
[It's not just his favorite "toys" in there--toys meaning "dangerous weaponry," of course--but a couple potions, too, and what appear to be protective amulets strung on pendants. A heavy-duty camera bag meant for seriously rough travel.
It's everything a gunner could want to keep the things important to him safe, and we do mean everything. The chest is remarkably full; it's impossible to get to the bottom of it without unloading some things.]
[People kill people, with guns. Or something. Anyway, boy, that sure is a lot of guns. Enough that she's a little uncomfortable by them all, even knowing that Prompto's heartscape isn't likely to allow her to get hurt by them.
She frowns, though, looking at them all with a quizzical eye.]
I wonder if...hey, do you think there's something at the bottom?
Maybe. Can't hurt to check, right? And I do love a treasure hunt! Here, let me just take care of these...
[Let the gun show handle the firearm display. As Prompto transfers the guns and assorted battle gear from the toy chest to arrange them on the floor, a faint smell like sunlight and grass rises from the bottom of the chest. No, it's sweeter than that. Floral.
Actually, there's a flower down there, a pink one half-hidden beneath the remaining weaponry.
[ Noctis instinctively understands the loneliness, the way things are placed just a little off, enough to be unsettling but not creepy. He's careful when he explores, looking through the photos and smiling, and the newest one, clearly, of Summer. Prompto's heart carries all of them, but he hesitates when he sees the woman in moonlight, resisting the urge to reach for her.
He knows her, he knows he should.
But Noctis moves on, fighting the strange, odd sense of vertigo, and Noctis makes an immediate beeline for Prompto when he spots him. Don't look back, they shouldn't look behind them. ]
I'm sure there's one somewhere, buddy. Let's go look around.
[Prompto nods. It's while he's half-turned away, checking one of the side walls, that a flicker of white or blue might catch the corner of Noct's eye; it is, after all, like a reflection of the dreamy moonbeam woman in Prompto's photos.
If he looks, nothing that color immediately sticks out, but perhaps it disappeared behind that child's desk in the corner.]
[ Noctis definitely catches that, and follows after it. Maybe it's disappeared under the child's desk? He's going for it anyway! He's still digesting the nuances of Prompto's landscape; there's something worrying about it, but he can't quite put his finger on it yet.
[Abruptly, he sounds nervous, and the lighting in the room dims overall, as if to obscure the desk from sight. Still, it's hard to hide secrets once you're really in someone's heart. Something's white corner peeks out of the side drawer. Paper, perhaps. An envelope.
Prompto catches Noct's elbow.]
I-I'm sure it's nothing! C'mon, that's the desk I had as a kid, there wouldn't be anything in there but old candy wrappers and stuff, right? Ehehe.
Edited (Need my murdergame BOLDFACE) 2019-02-15 03:05 (UTC)
[ Noctis protests. He sees the envelope peeking out, and candy don't come in white wrappers! He's slipping out of his hold, curiosity overpowering Noctis' tendency to indulge his best friend. He's going for the envelope, snagging it from the drawer and pulling it open.
He's raising his brows at just how skittish Prompto is, but doesn't open the envelope itself. ] Hey, are you okay?
[The envelope is yellowed with age, almost soft with how often it's been handled over the years, but still intact. It's also addressed to Prompto in perfect, courtly handwriting that might be very familiar to Noct, and it smells pleasantly of sylleblossoms.]
[ He murmurs without thinking as he looks down at the letter, distracted for the moment from Prompto. He would know her handwriting anywhere, he would know her anywhere -- the scent of sylleblossoms making his heart ache. ]
She sent you a letter, huh.
[ Somehow, this hadn't actually come up proper, but he wouldn't be surprised that Luna and Prompto would be in touch. He smiles, but he respects Prompto's privacy, too. And he looks to him, of course. ] Is it private? [ He won't look, if it is. ]
[ The thought had crossed his mind, shameful and small, and Noctis feels his throat knot up when Prompto, sweet and thoughtful and cheerful Prompto, the emotional glue that held them together, speaks up and dispels his deep-seated fears before he even gives voice to them.
Prompto, his sunshine boy, his best friend; it would be awful if Prompto had only come to him because Luna asked, but knowing Prompto, he would've made his own choice anyway. He reaches out to him, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. ]
I remember when I first met you. I know I didn't sound like it, but I was hoping we'd be friends.
[ A lonely boy who had no friends, who didn't know how to be a friend even if he had one right there. He musters a small smile. ] Then you turned up again.
[He closes the distance so he can bump his shoulder into Noct's arm, then stays close, looking at the desk again before turning to Noct's shoes.]
You know, I noticed you a long time before I ever scraped up the courage to talk to you, letter or no letter. What I remember thinking was... that you looked like how I felt, sometimes. That maybe I'd get it, even if those other kids didn't.
[After another pause, he bumps Noct's arm again, an encouraging knock of knuckles against his upper arm.]
Go ahead, you can look at it. I think maybe it'll be a nice read for you. We can figure out how to get outta here after.
[ Noctis reads the letter, permission given and all -- and when he does, his brows raise. So Prompto rescued Pryna? It's no surprise, he's got a soft streak a mile wide for stray animals, and he huffs softly when he does, shaking his head as he folds the letter back.
It's something, seeing her words, knowing that she's written it; how prescient she must be, to know that Prompto would've been his friend, for her to encourage him so. He lets the meaning and weight of her intentions sink in, before bumping back against him, his heart tight. ]
You idiot. [ He says so fondly, exasperatedly. They've lost so much time together. What would it have been like, if they were friends all the way up to high school? ] You should've done it sooner. I think you got it, more than anyone else.
[ They were two lonely boys, right? Lonely, on the outside looking in, and more importantly it makes him ache how Prompto suffered on his own. Noctis, at least, had Ignis. Who did Prompto have, in those long lonely years before he'd tapped him on the back and re-introduced himself, thinking Noctis didn't remember? ] You didn't have to be alone.
[He nods and tucks his chin down, rocking slightly on his feet.]
I. I know.
[Glancing away again, he runs a hand down the short hairs at the nape of his neck.]
I just wanted to be, y'know. A little cooler than I was. Not that that's saying a lot, but... [He shrugs.] ...You know.
[He thinks Noct might know, anyway, that tilting, anxious feeling of will I ever be good enough, like looking up and up and up at the expectations you'll never reach to be worth it.
The more they talk about the past, though, the further the floor ever-so-gradually, ever-so-minutely tips back, increasing the slope down and backwards into whatever dread lies behind.]
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ouch is one of the most intimate, romantic ways to be close to someone else. The Town knows this very well -- the Town wants everyone to be as close as possible.
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But there's still something weird about this space. Something a little unsettling.
Standing in here too long eventually gives rise to a teetering sensation, like the floor's tilted just enough you might fall backwards if you're not careful--and backwards, inexplicably, is somewhere you don't want to go. Something's lurking back there, looming behind you, and you know with gripping dread that you don't want to turn and see what it is. If you look, you'll fall--and who knows what's back there, who knows where, or if, you'll land. Who knows who--or what--will catch you.
Good thing there's so many photos before you to latch onto. Each features the people and things Prompto loves--namely, some handsome boys, a gorgeous city, chocobos, and, if you catch the flashes of red, a girl. (There are some other girls, too, but the camera doesn't linger on them with the same reverent attention it devotes to her.) There are other landscapes, other animals. A woman more like a nebulous dream of moonlight than a flesh and blood person.
More than the walls, the photos cover all the windows and mirrors. In none of them is Prompto younger than fifteen, despite the childishness of the room, and he always seems a little less defined than everything else.
Spending too much time trying to make him out in the photos makes noises--creaks--metallic sounds and voices start up behind you, indistinct but all the more eerie for it.
But if you turn around, you'll fall.]
I don't... see a door.
[Pale but staring resolutely forward, Prompto seems to feel the same.]
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She figures out immediately that she doesn't want to turn around. Absolutely, positively, does not want to turn around. And since she's not about to make the same mistakes as Orpheus, well.
She heads for the photos, instead, at first just to see what clues might be hiding in them, but then shortly thereafter with a sharp astonishment that some of the pictures are of her.
(Okay. Don't turn around, don't look back. That means to get back to Prompto, she's got to stay oriented toward the mirror and walk backwards into hell.)
He's right, though. There's no exit, except that there's always an exit in places like this. The fact that there isn't one visible is just invitation to find it.]
Hey. Gimme your hand.
[She extends hers, likewise keeping her eyes forward as she lines herself up with him in her retreat.]
First step is to make sure we stick together, right?
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Prompto slides his hand into Summer's and gives it a thankful squeeze.]
Yeah. We got this.
[A couple more beats of looking around--exploring the three directions that don't make the hairs rise on the back of his neck--Prompto sighs and swallows.]
I guess it's something to do with me, right? Like, that part's not real subtle. It's... it looks a lot like my room when I was a kid, though I didn't do anything like that with my pics. What is even going on...
[After trailing off for a moment, he turns his attention back to Summer, eyes steady.]
If it is--I don't know, mine somehow, then nothing's gonna hurt you here. You're totally safe.
[Another little squeeze.]
Promise.
[That seems important to establish before they start this bizarre point-and-click mystery game.]
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Lucky for you I'm pretty good at this kind of thing. Mystery solving and...y'know. Bullshit.
[She laughs softly, watching him.]
So you keep me safe, and I'll...try to figure out how to get us home. If that's how this plays out. Right?
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[The little, flickering smile that warms his face totally ruins the attempt to look sternly disappointed.]
Even if you just called my... crazy funhouse photo room bullshit. So mean.
[The light levels flutter again, like a shy blinking and lowering of eyes, like the room almost doesn't want to be looked at, but... it's her. It's Summer.
Nothing so glaring or obvious as spotlights come up, but the available light does seem to gather softly around a few objects in the room. The largest include:
i. The photos--or more specifically, Prompto's out-of-focus form in the photos;
ii. A toy chest by the bed; and
iii. A child-sized desk in the corner by the photo-covered window.
But the lights touch on a couple other things, too. A pair of eyeglasses on the nightstand, the closet door, empty photo frames where family might be.]
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[She frowns a little, surveying the possible options, and then gravitates toward the toy chest.]
It's okay if I look around?
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[Especially since Noct grilled him about "gross things" they could do the other day. Nope, now this is nobody's weird dream bedroom! No weird bed dreams here!
Weird dream beds notwithstanding, what Prompto was beginning to say might hold some truth. The room might not be hers, per se, but the toy chest responds to her interest with another of those shy, but eager shivers, drawing in on itself while still offering itself to her inspection.
In fact, even before she reaches it, a tiny click signals its latch opening, and the lid opens just a crack.
Prompto tilts his head.]
You know, I don't remember having one of those.
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[She pauses in the opening of it, sitting back a little but still supported on nothing but the tips of her toes, which ends up looking patently funny as she's balanced on about a third of her foot with her knees out in front and her cloak dwarfing her utterly from behind.]
...But this one is here. And I know how your mind works.
[She motions to the lid of the chest, then briskly sings the Zeldaverse "just opened a chest" tune.]
Ten to one there's a dungeon prize in here, don't you think?
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My soul-spelunking adventure would be an RPG, wouldn't it? I'll call it... SilverQuest! No, wait, it could be like a spin-off of King's Knight--Prince's, uh, Pal!
[He cracks up again and comes to crouch beside her.]
Do you want me to open it for you, in case it's dangerous? [His smile freezes and then falls.] It could be a Mimic.
[That'd be thematic.]
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[She reaches over, poking him lightly in the center of the forehead.]
The stuff you've got in here won't hurt me, remember? So I'll do it. I've got you, boy.
[She winks faintly, then turns her attention back to the chest, examining it another minute before levering it open.]
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...Okay, I definitely didn't have my own home armory. My parents would not have let that fly, holy crap.
[It's not just his favorite "toys" in there--toys meaning "dangerous weaponry," of course--but a couple potions, too, and what appear to be protective amulets strung on pendants. A heavy-duty camera bag meant for seriously rough travel.
It's everything a gunner could want to keep the things important to him safe, and we do mean everything. The chest is remarkably full; it's impossible to get to the bottom of it without unloading some things.]
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[People kill people, with guns. Or something. Anyway, boy, that sure is a lot of guns. Enough that she's a little uncomfortable by them all, even knowing that Prompto's heartscape isn't likely to allow her to get hurt by them.
She frowns, though, looking at them all with a quizzical eye.]
I wonder if...hey, do you think there's something at the bottom?
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[Let the gun show handle the firearm display. As Prompto transfers the guns and assorted battle gear from the toy chest to arrange them on the floor, a faint smell like sunlight and grass rises from the bottom of the chest. No, it's sweeter than that. Floral.
Actually, there's a flower down there, a pink one half-hidden beneath the remaining weaponry.
There's also what looks like a card.]
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He knows her, he knows he should.
But Noctis moves on, fighting the strange, odd sense of vertigo, and Noctis makes an immediate beeline for Prompto when he spots him. Don't look back, they shouldn't look behind them. ]
I'm sure there's one somewhere, buddy. Let's go look around.
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[Prompto nods. It's while he's half-turned away, checking one of the side walls, that a flicker of white or blue might catch the corner of Noct's eye; it is, after all, like a reflection of the dreamy moonbeam woman in Prompto's photos.
If he looks, nothing that color immediately sticks out, but perhaps it disappeared behind that child's desk in the corner.]
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[ Noctis definitely catches that, and follows after it. Maybe it's disappeared under the child's desk? He's going for it anyway! He's still digesting the nuances of Prompto's landscape; there's something worrying about it, but he can't quite put his finger on it yet.
He's going to find out! ]
Hey, I think there's something here.
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[Abruptly, he sounds nervous, and the lighting in the room dims overall, as if to obscure the desk from sight. Still, it's hard to hide secrets once you're really in someone's heart. Something's white corner peeks out of the side drawer. Paper, perhaps. An envelope.
Prompto catches Noct's elbow.]
I-I'm sure it's nothing! C'mon, that's the desk I had as a kid, there wouldn't be anything in there but old candy wrappers and stuff, right? Ehehe.
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[ Noctis protests. He sees the envelope peeking out, and candy don't come in white wrappers! He's slipping out of his hold, curiosity overpowering Noctis' tendency to indulge his best friend. He's going for the envelope, snagging it from the drawer and pulling it open.
He's raising his brows at just how skittish Prompto is, but doesn't open the envelope itself. ] Hey, are you okay?
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[The envelope is yellowed with age, almost soft with how often it's been handled over the years, but still intact. It's also addressed to Prompto in perfect, courtly handwriting that might be very familiar to Noct, and it smells pleasantly of sylleblossoms.]
Noct...
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[ He murmurs without thinking as he looks down at the letter, distracted for the moment from Prompto. He would know her handwriting anywhere, he would know her anywhere -- the scent of sylleblossoms making his heart ache. ]
She sent you a letter, huh.
[ Somehow, this hadn't actually come up proper, but he wouldn't be surprised that Luna and Prompto would be in touch. He smiles, but he respects Prompto's privacy, too. And he looks to him, of course. ] Is it private? [ He won't look, if it is. ]
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[Prompto lets his hands fall, wringing them only loosely and absently in front of him.]
She sent it to me a long time ago. I should've told you, probably, but I wanted--I didn't want you to think it wasn't my decision.
[He looks up, serious and sincere.]
Choosing you, I mean. Being your friend.
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Prompto, his sunshine boy, his best friend; it would be awful if Prompto had only come to him because Luna asked, but knowing Prompto, he would've made his own choice anyway. He reaches out to him, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. ]
I remember when I first met you. I know I didn't sound like it, but I was hoping we'd be friends.
[ A lonely boy who had no friends, who didn't know how to be a friend even if he had one right there. He musters a small smile. ] Then you turned up again.
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[He closes the distance so he can bump his shoulder into Noct's arm, then stays close, looking at the desk again before turning to Noct's shoes.]
You know, I noticed you a long time before I ever scraped up the courage to talk to you, letter or no letter. What I remember thinking was... that you looked like how I felt, sometimes. That maybe I'd get it, even if those other kids didn't.
[After another pause, he bumps Noct's arm again, an encouraging knock of knuckles against his upper arm.]
Go ahead, you can look at it. I think maybe it'll be a nice read for you. We can figure out how to get outta here after.
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It's something, seeing her words, knowing that she's written it; how prescient she must be, to know that Prompto would've been his friend, for her to encourage him so. He lets the meaning and weight of her intentions sink in, before bumping back against him, his heart tight. ]
You idiot. [ He says so fondly, exasperatedly. They've lost so much time together. What would it have been like, if they were friends all the way up to high school? ] You should've done it sooner. I think you got it, more than anyone else.
[ They were two lonely boys, right? Lonely, on the outside looking in, and more importantly it makes him ache how Prompto suffered on his own. Noctis, at least, had Ignis. Who did Prompto have, in those long lonely years before he'd tapped him on the back and re-introduced himself, thinking Noctis didn't remember? ] You didn't have to be alone.
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I. I know.
[Glancing away again, he runs a hand down the short hairs at the nape of his neck.]
I just wanted to be, y'know. A little cooler than I was. Not that that's saying a lot, but... [He shrugs.] ...You know.
[He thinks Noct might know, anyway, that tilting, anxious feeling of will I ever be good enough, like looking up and up and up at the expectations you'll never reach to be worth it.
The more they talk about the past, though, the further the floor ever-so-gradually, ever-so-minutely tips back, increasing the slope down and backwards into whatever dread lies behind.]
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cw: metaphorical self-harm?