[A non-committal response if ever there was one; no, everything is definitely not okay. There's a click of nails on the floor as Umbra trots over, having come in with him; the dog sits at Noct's side and rests his nose on the prince's knee, offering a quiet and encouraging whuff. Come on, out with it.]
I was over at Besithia's place tonight. He wanted to ask me about "fixing" the timeline.
He's a Nif, so of course he just wants to save Niflheim.
[It's hard not to roll his eyes at the selfishness of it. Verstael had a point- his priority is Lucis, sure, as it should be. But at least they're trying to save the world as a whole with what they're doing. It may be true that Niflheim's downfall brought the rest of the world down with it - which makes sense, considering they practically ruled the whole place by then by taking everything over - without that event they'll still have daemons and the Starscourge to contend with.]
Had it all mapped out like some kind of conspiracy board, all these dates and events I didn't know about. Stuff that happened, or is gonna happen. Said Cor gave him his research notes, so there was a lot about MTs. And Ardyn, because... yeah.
[Because of course Ardyn. He may not know the future yet, but he knows that Ardyn is the pivot point for a lot of things that go down.]
...And he asked me for your number.
[He shoots Prompto a pointed look. Why would he do that, huh?]
[He hasn't seen the conspiracy board, but he can believe it. He's heard Verstael rattle on enough and jot things down in his dumb notebooks. He can picture his wall all scribbled over and pinned up.
He looks momentarily confused at the mention of a number. And then the realization dawns like a spider creeping down his neck. That number. His fingers find the band that conceals the barcode.]
Prompto, he said you told him that you should exist. Not MTs. That's how he phrased it. That there's something wrong with you, that you shouldn't have kids.
["He thought the world would be better off." Those words stick in his throat, and he hates the very idea of them. In what reality would that ever be true?]
[But...it's also not entirely wrong. The world would be better off without the MTs. It wouldn't care one way or another if there was no Prompto Argentum.]
It's just... I don't even know what went into making me. And I hate that I was made, and not born like a normal person. And what if, because of that, there is something wrong with me?
[Noctis studies his expression for a long moment, a small measure of tension leaving his shoulders. It isn't much better, but Prompto looking at the big picture is better than being singularly suicidal, and he'll buy Verstael just misunderstanding the request. His gaze drops to the bracelet, hiding the tattoo, then away.]
What could be wrong with you? You don't come across as anything but normal to me. You're probably the most normal person I've ever known.
[And it's not an insult by any means. There's something akin to gratitude in his tone, subtle but there. So much of his life had been grim and serious and married to duty until Prompto walked himself into it. It was only through Prompto that he really got to feel normal himself.]
[Not suicidal. He does enjoy his life - even if he doesn't always feel like he fits into it. And he loves his friends. Loves then enough that he would give up his existence if it meant they could save their home and families, have a shot at a better future.]
Thanks.
[He smiles, grateful. That means a lot. He wants to be normal.]
But, I don't know. I mean, you've met Version 1.0. And I met him when he was older. There were a lot more screws loose, you know? Maybe it was the daemons. Maybe he was cooped up for too long, or maybe Ardyn pushed him too far. What if it's genetic? I don't know. I don't know if I want to know.
I do know, I don't want kids. Like, he was right about that. I did tell him that. Whatever he is, and this-- [He gestures at his own body.] I think it should end here. No more Besithias.
You're not a Besithia. You're an Argentum, and a Lucian. Where you came from or how you were born- [Yes, born, he doesn't care if he's a clone or whatever-] -that doesn't matter. It's who you are now that counts, and you're nothing like that guy.
[Deep down he knows he needs to act like a king, when it comes to decisions like this, when the question asked is "should MTs exist". He knows the answer should be no, absolutely and unequivocally. He can't be a king here, though. Not with Prompto, the only person back home who's ever left all those royal expectations on the floor. He and Prompto, they're just two people, same as always.]
Whether you have kids or not, whatever, that's your call. But it should be your call, a hundred percent, and not because of him.
[He listens, and nods, though when Noct gets to "born" his heart constricts in a way that makes his whole chest ache. It's such a little, plain word. He sniffles past a smile.]
Yeah well, Argentums adopt.
[He doesn't have to pass on his genes or whatever to have a kid. War makes orphans. Someone'll have to take care of them. And he'd do a better job than the ones who adopted him.
They could leave it here. He could move the conversation away to more pleasant things. It wouldn't even be hard. But eventually it would come around and they would be right back here. It was probably better to just get it all out now.]
Before we get too off-topic, I think there's something else you should know.
[He'd rather tell Noctis himself, than have it discovered or stumbled on, like what had happened with Kaname.]
After I learned where I was from, I was in a pretty bad place. I was scared. And lost. And I didn't like myself very much. [Which was a mild way of putting it. A shaky breath out.] I tried getting rid of the barcode.
[Adopt... yeah, that tracks. While Prompto's parents weren't around as often as they should have been, at least he had them. At least they kept him, let him be a person. That's better than Niflheim would have ever given him. Sometimes you learn how to be a good parent by having a shitty one; here and there, he'd thought about what it might be like to be a father, and he stubbornly believed that he could do better than the kings who came before him to balance his life, spend more time with them. And Regis wasn't even a bad father, just. Could have been better.
He'd like to meet Prompto's kids one day. If he ever grows up enough to be a dad, anyway. Neither of them are prepped for that any time soon, that's for sure.
He's smiling a little at the thought, but it fades as Prompto continues, brows furrowing. The way he says it...]
[The Argentums weren't the best. But they weren't terrible. They weren't even bad. He wished maybe they were more present and more affectionate and more present, but they gave him a home, and he got to grow up safe and fed and educated, if a bit lonely.
He's got his lips pressed together the way he does when he's feeling too many things.]
Fire? I um, I took a stick from the fire and tried to...
[He mimes it - how he'd taken a smoldering stick and pressed it to his then-bare wrist.]
[It's probably expected, but there's no hiding the obvious horror in Noct's expression at those words. He burned it?]
Wh- what? Prompto...
[He wants to ask why, but Prompto had already said as much- lost, scared. And he must have been alone, because if they'd been there for him they would have stopped it, surely. It happened while they were separated, then. To an extent, he can understand. It sounds awful, whatever it is that Prompto had gone through.
At the same time... it's just so senseless. If not for the words coming right out of his friend's mouth, he'd never have imagined Prompto would hurt himself like that.]
[He doesn't want Noct to look at him like that. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. It would have been fine. He squeezes his eyes shut and curls into himself.]
I'm sorry. It was only the one time.
[Not to say he didn't still want it gone. But his way of dealing with that was to keep it hidden away, like he always had before. Out of sight, out of mind. Mostly.]
[Only one time... like that isn't enough to horrify anyone.
He isn't so socially inept that he can't recognize that he's handling this poorly, that Prompto is closing himself off, probably regretting sharing it. He doesn't say anything at first, taking a moment to lean back, to take a deep breath and really consider what matters here. He wasn't there for Prompto at the time. He can be there for him now.
Quietly he reaches out to touch Prompto's arm- not where the bracelet is, but close, trying to tug him back from where he'd curled up.]
[He can't imagine what Noct must be thinking. (Not true. He can imagine all sorts of things, none of them good. He has to remind himself none of them are true.) The silence only lasts a moment or two, but it feels like an eternity.
His arm jerks at the touch, but after a moment of a hesitation, he nods.]
Um. Y-yeah. Sure.
[His fingers shake some as he works over the clasp of the bracelet, until it fall away and he holds his bare arm out. Aranea had got a potion on him quickly enough. There's hardly any scarring.]
[He hadn't even noticed scarring the first time Prompto showed him, wouldn't even have known to look for it, since it was the only time he'd ever seen under the bracelet. Now he takes time to study it more carefully, not the numbers (because those are irrelevant, Prompto is more than a number, and he doesn't even want to accidentally know them in case that information is passed on to Besithia) but the design itself. There isn't much to see, just a simple bar code and some diamonds.
Hm.]
You know... if you fill in some of the lines between, maybe do some work around it, you could turn it into something else. A cityscape, maybe? Or something out of King's Knight. Something cool.
[He leans forward and looks down at his own wrist and the stark lines and numbers etched into it.]
Cover it up with something else?
[Bracelets and bands and keeping it hidden had become so ingrained that he'd never even considered doing something else with it. It's hard to imagine not wearing something over his wrist. His arm feels weird even now. Itchy and naked and exposed.]
Never thought about it. But... It would be be better than this.
[One problem.]
Don't suppose robots have much need for tats, though.
[Noctis leans his communicator over Prompto's arm just long enough to take a clear photo with it. He checks to make sure it's clear enough to satisfy what he needs it for, then adds,]
All good. You can cover it up if you want.
[He doesn't care, but he'd be an idiot not to notice how uncomfortable Prompto is when it's visible. He focuses back on his comm, loading the photo up in the painting program he's been using for the King's Knight design process, and summons a digital pen from the Armiger. A new layer is created, and first he covers up the numbers, not wanting to even look at them long enough to accidentally memorize them. He never wants Prompto to be a number in his mind. Then he just starts… doodling. Curling lines, twisting patterns, a bunch of nonsense that resembles the simple sketches or stickers he'd sent in Luna's notebook, trying to create something less clinical from the barcode.]
[He snorts at the pen appearing from the Armiger (nerd) while flipping the bracelet back over his arm and pulling it tightly back into place. Scooting forward until he's crowding Noct's space, he leans in to get a better view of the comm.
He watches for a bit, sometimes making a noise of interest if a particular shape sparks interest. The designs on his other wrist are simple. He won't be able to get away with something thin and small to cover up the block of black bars.]
[Noctis tries to interpret the noises Prompto's making, outlining details he likes, redoing whatever doesn't seem to make a good impression. At the suggestion, he tilts his head to consider the idea, then saves the doodle and turns off the drawn layer, creating a new one. He taps the screen a couple of times, then starts tracing along the barcode lines, blending a few together and elongating them into tufty feathers.]
Like the egg at Wiz's place? The chick?
[Adding actual colour for a yellow one would be tricky, but... black chocobo, black tattoo. It's doable.]
Or the one that stole Specs' specs, but you slept right through that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
this_loser) wrote2019-07-26 04:31 am
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[A non-committal response if ever there was one; no, everything is definitely not okay. There's a click of nails on the floor as Umbra trots over, having come in with him; the dog sits at Noct's side and rests his nose on the prince's knee, offering a quiet and encouraging whuff. Come on, out with it.]
I was over at Besithia's place tonight. He wanted to ask me about "fixing" the timeline.
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Oh.
[He doesn't have a dog to pet, and Q-lulu's sensed the tension and wriggled away. He taps nervously on the camera on his lap.]
Fixing how?
[Not that he doesn't already know. Maybe a tiny part of him is hoping it's something different.]
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[It's hard not to roll his eyes at the selfishness of it. Verstael had a point- his priority is Lucis, sure, as it should be. But at least they're trying to save the world as a whole with what they're doing. It may be true that Niflheim's downfall brought the rest of the world down with it - which makes sense, considering they practically ruled the whole place by then by taking everything over - without that event they'll still have daemons and the Starscourge to contend with.]
Had it all mapped out like some kind of conspiracy board, all these dates and events I didn't know about. Stuff that happened, or is gonna happen. Said Cor gave him his research notes, so there was a lot about MTs. And Ardyn, because... yeah.
[Because of course Ardyn. He may not know the future yet, but he knows that Ardyn is the pivot point for a lot of things that go down.]
...And he asked me for your number.
[He shoots Prompto a pointed look. Why would he do that, huh?]
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[He hasn't seen the conspiracy board, but he can believe it. He's heard Verstael rattle on enough and jot things down in his dumb notebooks. He can picture his wall all scribbled over and pinned up.
He looks momentarily confused at the mention of a number. And then the realization dawns like a spider creeping down his neck. That number. His fingers find the band that conceals the barcode.]
I told him he shouldn't make the MTs.
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[Because that's not what he wrote down.]
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[He blinks, looking up from where he'd been picking at the bracelet's buckle.]
I know... I know what that means. For me, I mean.
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["He thought the world would be better off." Those words stick in his throat, and he hates the very idea of them. In what reality would that ever be true?]
He didn't sound like he was lying.
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I never meant just me.
[But...it's also not entirely wrong. The world would be better off without the MTs. It wouldn't care one way or another if there was no Prompto Argentum.]
It's just... I don't even know what went into making me. And I hate that I was made, and not born like a normal person. And what if, because of that, there is something wrong with me?
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What could be wrong with you? You don't come across as anything but normal to me. You're probably the most normal person I've ever known.
[And it's not an insult by any means. There's something akin to gratitude in his tone, subtle but there. So much of his life had been grim and serious and married to duty until Prompto walked himself into it. It was only through Prompto that he really got to feel normal himself.]
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Thanks.
[He smiles, grateful. That means a lot. He wants to be normal.]
But, I don't know. I mean, you've met Version 1.0. And I met him when he was older. There were a lot more screws loose, you know? Maybe it was the daemons. Maybe he was cooped up for too long, or maybe Ardyn pushed him too far. What if it's genetic? I don't know. I don't know if I want to know.
I do know, I don't want kids. Like, he was right about that. I did tell him that. Whatever he is, and this-- [He gestures at his own body.] I think it should end here. No more Besithias.
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[Deep down he knows he needs to act like a king, when it comes to decisions like this, when the question asked is "should MTs exist". He knows the answer should be no, absolutely and unequivocally. He can't be a king here, though. Not with Prompto, the only person back home who's ever left all those royal expectations on the floor. He and Prompto, they're just two people, same as always.]
Whether you have kids or not, whatever, that's your call. But it should be your call, a hundred percent, and not because of him.
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Yeah well, Argentums adopt.
[He doesn't have to pass on his genes or whatever to have a kid. War makes orphans. Someone'll have to take care of them. And he'd do a better job than the ones who adopted him.
They could leave it here. He could move the conversation away to more pleasant things. It wouldn't even be hard. But eventually it would come around and they would be right back here. It was probably better to just get it all out now.]
Before we get too off-topic, I think there's something else you should know.
[He'd rather tell Noctis himself, than have it discovered or stumbled on, like what had happened with Kaname.]
After I learned where I was from, I was in a pretty bad place. I was scared. And lost. And I didn't like myself very much. [Which was a mild way of putting it. A shaky breath out.] I tried getting rid of the barcode.
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He'd like to meet Prompto's kids one day. If he ever grows up enough to be a dad, anyway. Neither of them are prepped for that any time soon, that's for sure.
He's smiling a little at the thought, but it fades as Prompto continues, brows furrowing. The way he says it...]
What do you mean, getting rid of it?
[You can't just get rid of a tattoo-]
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He's got his lips pressed together the way he does when he's feeling too many things.]
Fire? I um, I took a stick from the fire and tried to...
[He mimes it - how he'd taken a smoldering stick and pressed it to his then-bare wrist.]
Didn't even work.
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Wh- what? Prompto...
[He wants to ask why, but Prompto had already said as much- lost, scared. And he must have been alone, because if they'd been there for him they would have stopped it, surely. It happened while they were separated, then. To an extent, he can understand. It sounds awful, whatever it is that Prompto had gone through.
At the same time... it's just so senseless. If not for the words coming right out of his friend's mouth, he'd never have imagined Prompto would hurt himself like that.]
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I'm sorry. It was only the one time.
[Not to say he didn't still want it gone. But his way of dealing with that was to keep it hidden away, like he always had before. Out of sight, out of mind. Mostly.]
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He isn't so socially inept that he can't recognize that he's handling this poorly, that Prompto is closing himself off, probably regretting sharing it. He doesn't say anything at first, taking a moment to lean back, to take a deep breath and really consider what matters here. He wasn't there for Prompto at the time. He can be there for him now.
Quietly he reaches out to touch Prompto's arm- not where the bracelet is, but close, trying to tug him back from where he'd curled up.]
Hey... can I see it?
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His arm jerks at the touch, but after a moment of a hesitation, he nods.]
Um. Y-yeah. Sure.
[His fingers shake some as he works over the clasp of the bracelet, until it fall away and he holds his bare arm out. Aranea had got a potion on him quickly enough. There's hardly any scarring.]
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Hm.]
You know... if you fill in some of the lines between, maybe do some work around it, you could turn it into something else. A cityscape, maybe? Or something out of King's Knight. Something cool.
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Cover it up with something else?
[Bracelets and bands and keeping it hidden had become so ingrained that he'd never even considered doing something else with it. It's hard to imagine not wearing something over his wrist. His arm feels weird even now. Itchy and naked and exposed.]
Never thought about it. But... It would be be better than this.
[One problem.]
Don't suppose robots have much need for tats, though.
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[He hesitates, then lifts his comm. When he continues his voice is a little more gentle.]
Can I take a pic?
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[He didn't have to explain anything past saying he was interested in a tattoo. Not at first, anyway.]
I ... guess so? Why?
[He angles his wrist for the picture anyway, because he's trusting like that.]
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[Noctis leans his communicator over Prompto's arm just long enough to take a clear photo with it. He checks to make sure it's clear enough to satisfy what he needs it for, then adds,]
All good. You can cover it up if you want.
[He doesn't care, but he'd be an idiot not to notice how uncomfortable Prompto is when it's visible. He focuses back on his comm, loading the photo up in the painting program he's been using for the King's Knight design process, and summons a digital pen from the Armiger. A new layer is created, and first he covers up the numbers, not wanting to even look at them long enough to accidentally memorize them. He never wants Prompto to be a number in his mind. Then he just starts… doodling. Curling lines, twisting patterns, a bunch of nonsense that resembles the simple sketches or stickers he'd sent in Luna's notebook, trying to create something less clinical from the barcode.]
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He watches for a bit, sometimes making a noise of interest if a particular shape sparks interest. The designs on his other wrist are simple. He won't be able to get away with something thin and small to cover up the block of black bars.]
What about a chocobo?
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Like the egg at Wiz's place? The chick?
[Adding actual colour for a yellow one would be tricky, but... black chocobo, black tattoo. It's doable.]
Or the one that stole Specs' specs, but you slept right through that.
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