ˡᶤᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵐᵃᶜʰᶤᶰᵉ ᵇᵒʸ. // indefinite hi

           fingers clasped tightly around the bicep of            his,  prompto keeps his eyes on the screen,            despite everything else.  gladio was a solid            strength beside him,  a rational protection            against the irrational fear.            a movie,  he picked it,  even.  a scarce code            of horror in an otherwise boring afternoon.            is this truly the best for what lies later,  come            time to sleep ?

                                 ❛SO,  gladio,  what d’ you think’ll happen ?                                  another onscreen,  brutal death ?                                  somehow they get rescued ? ❜

           would he be known to ramble,  run his mouth            when the lesser of his words would fail ?

           sat before in walls of old,  he cannot promise            where they’ll be come tomorrow,  but he can            promise that it won’t harm them today.  the            grand ceilings of a beautiful home.  prompto            watches his step so he does not tarnish the            floors with his blood kissed boots.

           her hands are clean in his,  he stares at her            nails for lack of anything else,  and the friend            that she is has proved to be good to him.            prompto smiles,  and lets go of her hands.

                                 ❛matching braids,  right lady lunafreya ?                                  i don’t think my hair is as long as yours,                                  but i’m sure something can be done with it. ❜