#starshell

toy siblings in the sunbathed room

he doesn’t really know why he likes to talk to him. he doesn’t have anything interesting to say. he wants to branch out—er, somewhat. it’s part of the process of making himself... better. it’s difficult, though. somehow a little easier since he doesn’t have to think about him looking directly at him. it’s through a screen, after all.

to. › prompto. from. › kadoc.

Ardyn had come to terms rather quickly with the fact that he’d died.

He had waited for years for the chosen king to rise, years for him to become strong enough to finally be an equal to him -- and damn, did it feel good to finally be free.

That would have been an odd sentiment for anyone else, to wish for death. He’d lived two thousand years in torture, hidden away as the Adagium only to rise as the Chancellor to Niflheim purely with the purpose of making life that much more difficult for the young Lucian prince.

So when Ardyn arrived in Isola his first thought was not that he’d been kidnapped from his own world and placed in another; Ardyn actually thought, wildly, that he might be in some sort of afterlife. Free of his ties to Bahamut and not sparing more than a thought or two for the soon-to-be-dead Lucian King, he found himself smiling more and more as he strolled down the streets, bowing occasionally to anyone who looked his way. He was a man of class, after all, and though the memories inside of him swarmed him and collided with each other to make a less-than-complete picture.

What was the word he was looking for?

Ah, calm. Yes, Ardyn felt calm.

That was, at least, until he spotted the little MT. Ardyn frowned a little at the sight of blond hair, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece together what he knew to be true of this world alongside the revelation that Noctis’ little friend Prompto was here.

Well, it wouldn’t do to ignore him, now would it? That would just be rude.

It is, ultimately, a coincidence that Ignis finds him.

A very, very welcome one. After so much wandering, and so many strangers, Prompto’s voice is like a beacon. The comfort of it, the familiarity of it. He never thought too hard about how much he liked taking care of his friends until suddenly he was without them.

It hadn’t been very long at all, but still, stumbling about in the dark gets lonely very quickly.

Explain

          ❝ No trouble finding me? ❞ he had made it a point not to move too much, though with how crowded it got in the last fifteen minutes, he would hardly be surprised.