#silverook

the path of a hero

@silverook​   “ i never believed in heroes, because they never made sense to me. ”

nonsexual acts of intimacy [accepting]

He hadn’t slept since they’d last seen Noctis. Daylight had returned-- but hope still eluded him. How was he to entertain a future absent of the one he’d sworn to protect. Even if he had come to terms with fate-- the weight of guilt clawed at him like a wild beast. It threatened to consume him entirely, were it not for the support of his brothers-in-arms.

They were all feeling the same loss.

Ignis knew their fight was not yet done-- they had a city to rebuild. But to do so without rest would be foolish. He had prepared tea for himself and Prompto while Gladio went out with Cor to inform the others of what had happened. He was hardly fit to be a messenger-- and Prompto had elected to stay behind to keep him company.

The blond had been unusually diligent in helping him over the years-- checking in now and then in Galdin Quay where Ignis had settled, awaiting the return of his King and learning to live a life in darkness. Even in those bitter times-- Prompto had been a ray of sunshine, one he was all too thankful for.

.. sailor star healer

@silverook​   :    you shouldn’t be here.

“Why, ‘cause you’re busy being depressed?”

TACT never came naturally to Noctis, RAISED to a warrior   /   surrounded by this COAT of masculinity ( emotionally  withdrawn )  that ushered him to violence when distraught, that told him a BRUISE outside healed wounds inside; a BLACK EYE was better than a broken heart. He watches Prompto sit there, head in hands   /   elbows on his knees   &&   rolls his eyes, stropping over, thwacking the back of his head lightly.

“Is this cause you got your ass handed to you today? Let me guess, you feel like you’re not good enough, right? ‘Cause Gladio’s way stronger than you, for sure, and Specs is WAY better at cooking. And driving. And he’s smart.” He’s already been told he isn’t welcome ( reads it like that, anyway ) so he never sits beside him on that rooftop; he stands there inches behind illuminated by the motel roof sign all in red   /   his words come from somewhere deep inside, something hidden.

“...You’re holding us all up on this pedestal to make yourself feel better.”

It’s unfair. He doesn’t know how to say more than what he did, but there’s words still tucked beneath his tongue begging to be let out; it’s unfair, you’re my friend, I don’t want you to be here just because you were trained to, I brought you here because I don’t want to be alone. With a heavy sigh, Noctis turns his back on him   &&   traipses away, summoning his weapon to warp back down to the ground.

THE WALLS ALL LOOKED THE SAME, every grey metal panel the same as the last DRIVING HIM MAD as he  all but crawled on hands and knees through the maze the Keep had become for him, taunted madly by his CAPTOR like an animal in a cage   /   they looked the same around him, too, the figure illuminated at the end of the hall staring blankly back at those who had come for him   —  too late, too late.

Noctis limped closer; from the fall taken his arm was broken, his leg was weak    /   barely able to hold his weight, HIS RIBS ACHED; shards of bone threatening to break off   /   each heavy breath an act of defiant agony from the body that tried to keep him from breathing. All this fighting, chasing shadows concocted in his mind in fear of death ( seeing blond hair matted red, seeing twisted bodies, seeing MT’s clawing at his ankles ) was going to be worth it in the end, he thought  —  to see Prompto again, all smiles   &&   blue, all sunshine, all ICARUS still full of hope.

( Something was missing inside him; something had snapped, SOMETHING HAD DIED A VIOLENT DEATH IN THE FLUTTERING HOLLOWS OF HIS CHEST, drowning in his blood; to see HEART’S DESIRE standing there, no light, no joy, all melted wax. )

STOP THIS