#slumberingprincess

[ ★ ] there’s really no point in checking a watch, but let’s just say it took a very short amount of time for prompto to find an opportunity to make a fool of himself in front of someone. it was definitely gonna happen eventually, but he wasn’t exactly expecting it to be so soon.

for a little context here, our fave cameraman was checking out the menu at a local diner before realizing he was standing next to a really pretty girl. like, ‘out of his league’ pretty. and prompto being prompto, his brain always seemed to short-circuit around people like that, leading to, uh, well...

It's been hard trying to acclimate to it all.

Ignis has been around less than a week and yet circumstances would have it that he's already exhausted, perhaps overwhelmed. From a combination of situational and tonal whiplash, to the uncertainty of the state of those he loves and the permanent, burning pain behind his eyes.

What he needs, is a break, and a pastry.

That's it! he thinks. With a new place there's always new culinary culture, and recipes to learn. So once he's in... quite the packed coffee shop, he realizes that even if they did have a braille menu, it's not something he can 'read' just yet, another box in the to-do list.

Instead he turns to someone at his side

"Pardon me, do you have a moment?"

“ SHIT — ! ! “

angrily, he grips his staff and tries once again; it is a simple spell and it was absolutely infuriating how WEAK it was. having put together a significantly sized block of ice, he had been practicing diligently, but no matter how often he practiced, he never seemed to improve; before he arrived here, he would’ve been able to make something twice the size of this in half the time. . . and it would be just as lethal. now? well. . . now he was struggling to cut down a single tree with one of the shards; at the very most, it would take something larger, but that wasn’t the point or why he was irritated. all of his hard work had been stolen from him and it seemed, no matter how hard he tried, it wasn’t going to come back anytime soon.

regardless, he was quite hardheaded and wouldn’t accept that; he could keep trying, even if it is to no avail.

“ are you fucking kidd— “

abruptly, he stops his practice and the large chunk of ice that was hovering feet into the air gracelessly fell onto the grass; it was late. . . he certainly did not expect someone else to be around here. from what his eyes would let him see, they were possibly a magician. . . significantly weaker, but definitely nothing to sneeze at. had he not been pushing himself, perhaps he would greet them himself, but instead he plasters a smile upon his visage and calls out.

“ helloooooooo? wanna come out or are you just gonna be a freak and hide around? “ 

[ ★ ] “oh! a love child’s just a…”

“wha…”

“w-whoa! um!” cough cough. blush blush. “i-it’s possible, but uh… y’see… it’s– i– we– look–!”

QUESTIONNAIRE || ACCEPTING

“I don’t think I can answer that truthfully, difficult as it may be to believe- I never read that many books in order to pick one unbiased….” Ignis starts, tilting his head to a side as he listens to the source of the voice asking, his mind running through the printed words he’s read so many times- many were simply reports. Politics and forms that went on eternally.

“…but if I had to give one, Love in the Time of the Cholera. The story is that of a promised love that sprawls for decades, one that dwarfs everything around it. It presents two questions: Is love benefitted or hindered by extreme passion?

And for the second one, picture this, for context.” He settles, thinking of a way to word such a story in small sentences, it’s something powerful, something that has left him awake many nights, just thinking.

“You find this decade old love and you realize the only way to be together, is to be at sea and pretend… pretend to be sick so no port will take you ashore, and spend the rest of your days on a floating boat.

…So the question is as follows, who would be on that boat? Who are the people so important in your life- that you cannot imagine yourself without them?

✦　　“this is...” he turned the knife over in his hand; the bright colors of the hilt and blade had surprised him, but they were... stylish, certainly, prismatic hues between purples and pinks and blues covering the whole of it. but unlike most stylish weapons, as he hefted the knife and felt its balance, inspected the edge of the blade for sharpness, it became clear this was actually well-crafted. “this is nice,” he stated simply, an acceptance of flayn’s unexpected gift. “i like it. thank you.”

     There’s fruit, there’s cake, and there’s a contest. What more could he ask for? All he needs to know is those three basic details before rushing himself over towards where the competition was held. Winning would be nice, but getting to eat something that sounded so delicious was a far sweeter victory for him. By the time he gets there, he’s already salivating, finding himself an open seat with little care towards whomever he’d bumped into upon hopping on it. It’s only until his hands rest against the table while he eagerly awaits that he turns his head and catches a glimpse of the stranger he’d so rudely bumped.

     He wont lie. The guilt over such a mild offense is intense. He’d have felt the same way after meeting anyone's gaze, but it’s his stubborn habits that make apologizing difficult.