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uploadedmeme2018-08-18 12:01 am
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Entry tags:
Test Drive
TEST DRIVE 001
-TDM threads can be considered game canon if players involved agree & if it suits any roles you may decide to choose for the current plot.
-Any reserving player that does not submit an app by Saturday morning will be subject to challenging applicants.
-Participation in the Test Drive is worth a flat 10 points per month rather than per thread, and you must have a minimum of 5 comments in that month to qualify for it.
-This TDM is good for the duration of the Mist setting. A new TDM will go up before the next setting.
The NETWORK for this setting is a voice-only walkie talkie system that can be used to communicate between all locations. The default channel will be open to all walkie talkies, but characters can change to an unused channel for private conversation.
of note: There seems to be something strange about these walkie talkies, in that there is no static. The quality is disturbingly crystal clear, like the person you're speaking to is right next to you instead of miles away.
CONTENT WARNING: Some prompts contain gore, character death, and substance abuse.
Applications will open Saturday, September 15 until Saturday, September 22
The lights above you are a blindingly, pristine white. The walls around you curve up into the ceiling like the inside of an MRI machine. Your hands, feet, and midsection are strapped to a clinical table, and minutes seem to tick by, with no clear course for escape presenting itself to you.
The curved white space above you flickers with color, and a perfect square like a television screen expands before your eyes. It pans over what appears to be a town, something small and simply populated.
“Hello, and welcome to your first setting,” a neutrally cadenced feminine sounding voice begins, riding the line between human and machine. As she speaks, captions of the text type themselves in neat and perfect Arial font. “The location is loosely based off Bridgton, Maine, United States of America, Earth. The year is 2007. You have been selected to participate. Obedience ensures an enjoyable and immersive experience for our audience. If you have been granted a role, instructions will follow. Do not talk about the role. Do not attempt disobedience. If you have not been granted a role, your objective for this round is simple: survive.”
After that, the shackles may release promptly and allow your character to roam free. Or perhaps not — perhaps they've been given a role to play, and if so, further instructions will play out upon the screen. Once suitably briefed, characters will be released to their own devices. Beware the mist.
learn from the mistakes of others
A pair of unperturbed mall inhabitants decide to chance the mist. They're the first of a handful to trickle out the front doors, and they seem to get by just fine. About a minute ticks by, and they disappear completely into the dense fog that presses in from every direction. It's so anticlimactic that for a moment it almost seems stupid to feel uncomfortable by the sight of it.
Until precisely one half of a body is hurled abruptly and with great force from an indeterminate point in the obscurity. It's not a top half or a bottom half; no, it's a cleanly sliced left half, head to toe as though a neat line were cut down the middle. It slams into the transparent glass doors and crumples before them, still and obviously unmoving, slowly leaking.
After a few seconds, a dark tendril of something reaches out, curls around the jutting left ankle, and drags it with painstaking slowness back into the fog.
At least the rest of them probably made it, right?
Right?
Hopefully you weren't one of the others to follow their lead. If you were, that dark shape seems to be closing in awfully quick.
eff this, let's bounce
A pair of car keys can be found discarded or perhaps dropped in their owners' haste. Braving the mist when it's at its lightest and pressing the key fob will cause a car to beep politely, flashing lights to indicate its location in the fog. Take anyone willing to go with you and pile in. Try to get the hell out of dodge!
An excellent idea....
Within five miles of the car's journey the battery will die and the engine will stall. Consider yourselves effectively stranded and with no one but yourselves to blame. Perhaps help will come if you wait long enough? Hours, surely no more than a few days... Maybe you should consider braving the fog to get back? Five miles can feel like a hundred in conditions like these.
Either way, it seems like you're trapped in the car for about as long as R. Kelly got trapped in the closet during that one unfortunate CD.
radio chatter
Characters in the library and the church will be able to communicate via walkie talkie radio chatter immediately! Characters in the mall will not have this ability until later in the month, so any network style threads with a mall character will take place during Week Two of the October plot or later, after most people have already been fully introduced to the setting and given time to adapt.
Employee of the Month (Multiple)
Some characters will be printed wearing a designated kiosk uniform, their name sloppily stickered in slightly crooked letters onto a Dippin' Dots badge, or whatever store they may happen to be assigned to. The cool voice that introduces them to the mist will carry on to tell them that they'll be playing employee # _____ in this month's immersive experience. Their motivations and objectives are simple: go to work.
Except the role seems to be bugged, because they can never not go to work. If they leave the five or six foot radius of their designated post they'll begin to experience consequences, which worsen in severity based on distance and duration. The role doesn't end at mall closing, it doesn't end on Saturdays, it simply doesn't end. Hopefully next month's code push will have a bug fix; we apologize for the inconvenience.
(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the role will wear off within the first in-game week)
Aggravated Assault
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of a CONVICTED FELON having recently been released on parole. Your motivation for this month's immersive experience is frustration. Having undergone hard time, you'll find that we have increased your aggression and temper characteristics, and lowered your inhibitions. Your objective is to find and begin an altercation with Snuff the Rooster, who will be playing the role of the person who turned you in, NARK. Your altercation must take place in a public space with witnesses, and may not stop until Snuff the Rooster is unconscious, evicted from the mall, or someone intervenes.
Thank you for your participation!
Consequences for not completing the objective in this role can be moderate to severe.
Snuff the Rooster
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of NARK. Formerly a close friend and ally of CONVICTED FELON from Aggravated Assault, you were quick to roll on them during police questioning in exchange for your freedom. Your motivation is to turn over a new leaf, and get your shit together. Your objective is to survive the altercation.
Thank you for your participation!
The Lovers (Duo Role)
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing one half of a partnership role! Please seek out (character 2). Your motivation this round is love, and the need to protect your partner from threats both inside and outside of the mall. Your objectives is to greet your lover with a kiss and place them above all others. Do not act like strangers.
Consequences for not completing the objective in this role or failing to present a convincing couple can be mild to moderate.
Pathological
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. Your motivation is to tell lies; at least one third of what you say must be unarguably untrue. Your objective is to keep these lies from being discovered as false.
Consequences for not complying with this role can vary from mild to severe, with the compulsion to tell larger and larger lies growing as time goes on.
Scared Speechless
Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. You may choose one person, stranger or otherwise. This is the only person you may communicate with, either verbally or through writing.
Consequences for not complying with this role are severe.
potency error
Someone seems to have miscalculated the relative strength of intoxicants; all inhibition-altering substances seem to have been cranked up to eleven. One shot has the strength of three, though the taste seems to stay exactly the same. One or two drinks will quickly creep up on you. One of the joints found discarded in the bathroom trashcans will easily green you out. God forbid you've got anything stronger.
greatest movie of all time
Settling in to the relatively nice theater found at the far end of the mall is a decent way to make the time go by. The projectors are automated, and there are six different theaters that show flicks at scheduled times.
Except that every single one of them is showing Spider-Man 3. Every single one, every single showing, no matter what is advertised, becomes Spider-Man 3. That's how you know this is a horror game. Hope you didn't wander in by mistake because the doors will shut behind you and leave you to watch the entire showing. Please keep your feet off of the seats.
please replace toner cartridge
It seems there was an error in printing someone this first time around; everything came through but the visuals somehow. Your character is flesh and blood, fully formed, wearing tangible clothes even, but are completely invisible. Donning additional clothing causes it to clip out and then promptly disappear. Taking clothes off will cause them to reappear. Hopefully this gets fixed in the next lite patch.
(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the glitch will wear off within the first in-game week)
Ignis Scientia | FFXV
Few supplies, fewer working amenities, and above all, there were coffee grounds and no way of actually brewing them. As though the small, low-quality packets of pre-ground beans were singularly taunting him from where they rest on the shelf with their filters, shining brightly in their foil-like, vacuum-sealed bags. (But then-- even if they'd had water, it would be more precious as it was than brewed into coffee. But his caffeine addiction is strong and demanding at times, and its difficult to shake the temptations away.)
It spells a singular story: They can't stay here long. It simply isn't viable.
There's no electricity, but with enough careful planning they could find a way to start a fire… but without food and clean water, they're already on a very, very short time limit.
His mouth is set into a thin line, arms folding over his chest as he approaches the information desk. It's the most central, obvious location, so of course it's become something of a gathering point.
When he speaks, it's with the clear, firm voice of a man used to laying out his opinions before others. No hesitancy, despite the unwelcome words. “We can't stay here indefinitely. There is nothing in the way of edible supplies or clean water.” Sweeteners and sodas didn't count, after all- and that was all he could find in the sparse lunch room.
“However, we have no way of knowing when or if the fog will wane or strengthen.” He's sure they'd all seen or felt some sort of horror from it. “And I'm open to all other suggestions. But to me, it seems as though we'll have to make a run at some point or another. Best we start considering it now.”
ii. some light shopping for deadly weapons / mall
Dollars. The currency of this world, then, and something he is wholly without- as he found out in a store labeled 'Sporting Goods' that happened to carry a number of knives. (He'd been unable to summon his own since appearing here- a fact that had initially panicked him, thinking that for him to be cut off from the Crystal's power, something must have happened to Noctis. But if this wasn't Eos, then… well. The rules had changed.) But a brief inquiry with the staff had led to the discovery of the price and-- well. There was little he could do about that.
Perhaps if things became more dire, he'd be able to make a case for simply commandeering them for the greater good.
One last look at the blades (Too short, likely unevenly balanced, truly made for skinning creatures, rather than throwing or wielding, anyway-) and he draws back.
At least he isn't the only one looking at the rows of weaponry showcased. (After all, there's a number of things available in the section: everything from bows and arrows to rifles to machetes and more knives--)
A small sigh, and he shakes his head. “Perhaps it's simply wishful thinking that these would be of any use.” He is, after all, fairly rooted in realism. “I suppose blades and firearms are equally useless against that damned fog.” And whomever had brought them here. But of course, that bit can go unspoken. Speaking out wasn't a mistake he was eager to test out.
iii. Snuff the rooster / mall
He still doesn't understand the point of this all, truth me told. Waking in a frankly terrifying machine, being told the 'setting' in some location he has absolutely no frame of reference for, and then spelling out a role for him to play- as though he were some actor here, putting on a stageshow. Even referring to an audience of some kind.
It's absolute insanity, and if he had any better ideas, he would refuse to play along.
But… well. He doesn't have any better ideas, as much as it shames him to inwardly admit. Leaving doesn't seem particularly viable. The risk isn't worth it. And there doesn't seem to be anything lost to him by playing along, except for the time it wastes.
Better some time than his life, to be honest.
His role is simple enough. Await someone to show up and try and seek revenge on him. Do whatever it takes to survive. And so he's made himself available- sitting in the middle of the food court with a coffee in one hand and a map of the mall in the other. The store names are meaningless to him, of course. ('Hot Topic?' 'Hallmark'?) but it gives him an idea of the general layout. Whatever altercation he ends up in, he'd like to get it over with quickly- but just in case his faux-former-friend was too enthusiastic about all this, it never hurt to know the routes available.
Sitting nonchalantly in public, drinking coffee-- surely that fits his own character's motivations as well, in being a reformed member of society.
iv. Misc.
(Anything else! Anything, anywhere, or just hit me up with questions or plotting ideas!)
ii.
Red eyes glance over towards the blonde before he lets out a scoff.
"It isn't any match for that fog. But for there are a few low-lifes runnin' around here. That's a better reason to stock up," At this point people within the mall itself had given Gintoki far more trouble than anything the fog had thrown at him.
Granted, he hadn't exactly been foolhardy enough to venture from the walls of the mall. He finally breaks the machete free from its secured bearings on the display and he tilts the blade in the light to admire it.
It was pretty bad-ass, but there was no way he'd admit that that man had a good idea grabbing one.
Gintoki gives little mind to the staff, as his experience thus far has told him that the robotic staff aren't exactly looking for payments for any of their wares.
no subject
So that's how things were here.
"These 'low-lives' giving you trouble, I imagine?" That neat brow remains arched curiously, looking over the blade he'd chosen. It certainly wasn't a weapon for simple intimidation. Perhaps things were more complicated than he'd yet understood.
(It's a little frustrating, really, to seem to have awoken after so many others, to have to try and learn the rules of this world and the small society built into it.)
But still, he follows suit, returning to the knives he had been admiring in their glass case. Stepping around the counter shows it had been unlocked for the shift, which is good. Smashing the counter would likely draw too much attention. He continues speaking even as he moves, grabbing a number of the knives to set on top of the counter to be able to truly inspect.
"I've not ventured outside at all-- But I've already seen some of the effects of it. Absolutely grisly." As he thought-- they were poorly balanced for throwing. He's testing the heft of one of the knives, before sighing and attaching the sheath of it to his belt anyway. And another.
Really, one couldn't have too many, especially when without the ability to just summon them back to his side.
"I imagine in such a confined environment, with stakes so high, it's inevitable people would turn against one another. What sort of dangers have you encountered from our own?"
no subject
When he was finished with his business here, he'd sure as hell like to not return.
His gaze drifts over to begin observing Ignis as the other starts to take inventory. The argument could be made that most of Gintoki's violent run-ins were partially due to him playing his assigned "role" as a pathological liar too well, but... who the hell just commits aggravated assault because of a fib huh? Low-lives, that's who!
"Some asshole stabbed me when I asked if he'd grab me a drink. Another guy beat me with a bag of stolen loot. Then some lady clocked me straight in the gut because she was the jumpy sort... But most people I've met are fine. Just trying to survive, but then there are other edgy punks who don't have a clue and just wanna take advantage of some chaos," the albino man speaks as he secures the machete and a new holster at his hip.
After he's content with this set up, his attention turns to the folding knives as he begins to pick through them.
"But inside here still beats out there. Rather deal with some edgelords instead of being reduced to some chunks in a parking lot."
no subject
“From the few glances I've had of outside, I'd believe it. At least humans are something we can try to understand and predict. But a stabbing? That sounds quite serious.” Provoked or not, that's a rather extreme reaction. He lets out a short hum, as though considering, even as he finished attaching several knives to is belt, a few smaller, collapsing pocket knives being tucked into the inner pockets of his jacket.
Perhaps if people were truly that paranoid and afraid, or broken off into warring groups, or had been given reason to be distrustful of strangers… The situation here could be quite volatile. (Or, the man in front of him could be the instigator, but he'll consider the worst case scenario. Plan for the worst, hope for the best, as the old saying went.)
“Have you been able to seek medical attention? Or is there even anything resembling that here?” Done with his new equipment, Ignis turns to face Gintoki more fully, fingertips coming to rest on his chin in thought. “It's possible this store could carry basic first-aid kits.”
no subject
"Yeah, some asshole threw it at me while I was trying to get away from him," the albino grumbles, "All I did was try to get him to grab some booze for me. The shit's free, and instead he tried to cut me to ribbons. Who even does that...?"
Well, he knows exactly who does that. And old "friend" with long-standing beef. Those sort of violent altercations were basically how they said hello nowadays - but it pissed him off anyway! He hadn't been armed at all... And now he has a stupid handicap in future fights thanks to it.
Right, but this guy had asked him about medical attention, not about the conditions of the fight. So he reaches up to prod at his left shoulder, feeling for any tell-tale dampness. His teeth clench against the burning ache that flares up with the contact, but the blood hasn't started to seep into the fabric of his black shirt - so it must've been doing "well enough."
"I had some kid try to patch it up, but I don't think first-aid was his strong suit. Probably could use a change in dressings. Why, you know how to do that sorta thing?"
Please say yes. Please say yes.
no subject
He has no reason not to help the man-- but, similarly, he has no reason to do it, either. And so there's a short silence of consideration, before he finally nods.
"I believe I could. I assume your wound can't be too devastating, as you're up and about. It's just a matter of finding the supplies to tend to it."
And as apprehensive as he feels about everyone in this place, this man seems to mean no harm. Decide his decidedly more dodgy seeming explanations, there would be no sense in turning away any potential allies. "If we can find some bandages and antiseptic, I could assist in changing the dressings. We can start just by looking for kits, I'm sure they'll have some in this area of the store."
And, hey, it gives him something to do and focus on. He always operates much better with a clear goal, even if it's just something to occupy his time, as opposed to a farther-reaching one. He gestures to the next aisle over, before speaking. "I'll start there, if you want to take the other direction. Let me know if you come across something we could use."
ii
He keeps his arms crossed as he eyes the selection disdainfully.
no subject
Certainly not Ravus. But the share similarities. Especially with that cocky sort of pseudo-insult being the first thing out of his mouth.
Expression settling into an unimpressed neutrality, he lifts a hand to press his glasses up on his nose. "I'm not certain what you mean by that. A weapon itself is inert: it has no speed or strength of its own. If you tried to match it, you'd be little more than a lump on a log. And there's no way to build either of those traits without practice- so, in a way, it's ridiculous to say that one shouldn't bother attempting without already having the skills built by it." A casual shrug of his shoulders, and he returns to glancing at the knives.
His own arms fold over his chest as he gives a neutral hum, considering his next words.
"But perhaps you mean that those unskilled should be aware of their own limitations and work hard to improve upon them, to which I will agree."
I apologize for this little shit >_>
Anyway, he isn't here to make friends (or so he likes to think).
"I mean these are useless against whats out there," he says, picking up a knife that happens to have been removed from its display case and in a swift move, attempts to raise it to Ignis's neck. "But not against one another, if that happens to be your concern."
tbh i wouldn't expect anything else, lmao
"Excuse me." The words are bitterly polite and spat like iced acid. Ignis's fingers flex and curl as he watches warily, eyes darting from the silver-haired man's hand holding the knife to his face, as though reading intent there.
"I would thank you not to mindlessly attempt to threaten me. If that's all you're here for, I'll wish you good day." Because really, isn't this a poor situation to be in? Some unknown world, without access to the armiger or able to draw from royal magics. While his physical abilities, all trained and honed over years, are likely still his own, he has no idea what the people of this world are capable of or intend from him.
And that had been the one instruction from the voice when he had awoken: Survive.
Carefully, he takes a step back again, keeping his eyes on the man. There's no need to engage, not when there's nothing to be gained and flight or deflection is a viable option.
ehehe
He can see skill in Ignis's movements and he wants to see more. He lowers the hand with the knife, holding it back handed as he takes a step forward.
"I can tell you're a soldier, or someone trained like one." He stops at the second step. "Your attempt at defusing the situation is admirable." He smiles unkindly. "If you won't play along, I'll just find someone else who will"
no subject
"And what good would that do you?" He huffs out the question even as he shoots out a hand to to another display case, grasping a weapon of his own.
...Granted, it's a long, flexible fishing rod of all things, unstrung and shiny new, but it's better than being completely without. Besides, he's quite familiar with them, given Noct's passion, and the whip-like quality and reach might be a benefit to him, given the other man's stance. (It's the benefit of using knives himself. Holding the blade in a reverse grip was good for a multitude of reasons, but lacked the same reach as an extended knife. And so, he'll take that advantage and run with it.)
He whips the fishing rod out almost as one would a katana, stance shifting minutely. "I have no quarrel with you, you know. There's nothing to be gained from this." And yet, his every fiber is evident in being focused and ready to parry or defend-- after all, at this point, there's no sense in trying to be subtle. He'll await the first strike.
no subject
He was just angry and annoyed that he was being used once more. And this time not even by someone he knew. A mysterious captor with the power to take from the strongest being on the Planet. That didn't sit well with someone whose own plans for world domination was just thwarted.
He raised his knife up to chest level and held it there, wondering if he could get Ignis to make the first move.
no subject
"Satisfaction in what? A challenge? or simple bloodshed?" A quarter-turn on his heel to move himself into more of a profile, a smaller target for the other man, as he continues carefully stepping backwards and placing space between them. If this wild dog is content to stand and wait, Ignis will use the time given to try and leverage every advantage he can find, complete with trying to memorize their immediate surroundings.
"Or are you nothing more than a mummer, eager to perform in any given farce?" The long, glass cabinet that had contained the hunting knives. The aisles around them, full of various sporting gear. The one just beside him contains more rods, lures, carefully sealed boxes of hooks-- at least they weren't left wanting for impromptu equipment.
His hand holding the rod stays steady and outward, tip pointing out and mind racing. For his opponent to cross the distance in any appreciable amount of time, he would have to lunge-- perhaps change the grip on the knife? And the man seemed to have a few centimeters of height advantage, likely in arm length, too. But the flexible, whip-like rod in hand could serve him well, especially if he could manage to be precise enough to strike the face or eyes--
His grip tightens and he, too, waits. Patience is a skill an adviser has in spades.
no subject
He spits out the words, a cold bitterness tainting it. "Once upon a time. That's what Sephiroth stood for." Three more steps and he decides he's been patient enough. "Not anymore!" With that he steps forward. Quick but having to step far closer than he's used to to allow the knife swing to connect. It's a wild slash but his eyes are sharp and he keeps his other hand ready for Ignis's counter attack.
(no subject)
(no subject)
let's try for deadly (ii)
He scans the P-section, and is not really too sad about not finding his name.
The world seems to tune back in in time for him to hear a familiar voice. Prompto perks up, blond hair in motion as he cranes his neck to look over. It feels mostly surreal--to see Ignis, standing tall and back straight, all proper form and elegance, as usual.
A gasp actually escapes him, and in his shock, Prompto's body reacts without his urging.
CRASH.
Jingles of keychains, disrupted from their original position, dangling precariously on the slots of the rack. Prompto's clumsiness is his worst enemy, as he hurriedly gets on his knees and tries adjusting the mess he's made. His face is warm with embarrassment, shaking hands (and the bruises, of cuffs tights around his wrists) and hasty movements. But he keeps looking up, at Ignis.
"He-hey!"
no subject
"Prompto--" it starts off a little harsher than intended, before his own words reach his ears and make him pause.
Prompto is here. So he's not the only one whose arrived in this absolutely bizarre place. A pause, a blink, and his shoulders relax as he finished crossing the distance, crouching down to a knee as well. How he manages to even make kneeling down to gather up kitschy keychains elegant is anyone's guess, really.
"Prompto, you're here as well?" A pause, and he's looking over him quickly- sorry Prompto, of course an assessment for injury is going to be one of the first matters of course. The blonde boy is moving well enough- crashing into the display aside- but it's almost impossible not to notice the mottled rings left from bindings, the scrapes and bruises. Of course, he had been bound as well upon initially waking- limbs kept immobile in that device while the computer generated voice gave him a very brief overview of the situation. But it wasn't enough to bruise to nearly that extent.
He pauses, fingers full of a number of keychains proudly proclaiming they belonged to KRISTI☆. "...Did you have an altercation already?"
no subject
Prompto barely finds his voice.
In part, he's really happy to see Ignis, but once his mind starts to fill in the blanks, he starts questioning whether what he's seeing is real or not. Ignis doesn't have the scars marring his face, nor the milky-white in his irises. Neither does he seem concerned about Prompto--as if he has no recollection of Prompto falling off the train...
And the questions he asks, they go by so quickly. Prompto barely has a chance to catch up.
There's a knot in his throat, wet and heavy, even as he stares down at the fallen keychains. He's not really doing anything to get them back in order. He's so confused.
The words register, finally, and Prompto looks up at Ignis again. Bruised face with cuts over the bridge of his nose and his temple looking fresh but not bleeding, not anymore. His lips move as if he's ready to say so many things, but he doesn't find it in him.
Instead, he laughs weakly.
"Yeah... Something like that," his voice is just letters on air, and the knot in his throat tightens. "Are you -- okay?"
no subject
And he knows that as a friend he shouldn't pry... but he has also always hated to let a puzzle go unsolved. It's an uncomfortable dual compulsion to give Prompto space, or to press farther for more information and details.
And really, when will the latter not win, with ignis?
"Something like that...?" he repeats curiously, one eyebrow arching primly above the line of his glasses. He busies his motions with carefully placing a line of keychains back on the display. Maybe if his focus isn't laser-sharp on Prompto he won't overload the man. "You look like that something was the end of a very knobbly stick, if you don't mind me saying." He again crouches to work on picking up the next set of names, if only to keep himself busy as they speak.
"But yes, I'm well enough. Still rather discombobulated at our presence here, but I'm sure that's to be expected. Have you seen Noct or Gladio?"
no subject
It's so strange. Ignis doesn't seem to show any sort of recognition over circumstances that are definitely amiss--like the injuries he sustained in Altissia, and that terrible train ride after Catarnica.
Should he bring it up? But -- Noct or Gladio.
He ignores the pointed observation for now, focusing instead on what's most important.
"You're the first one I've seen," he makes himself useful and picks up a couple of keychains, one by one, and definitely not as efficiently as the other. "What kind of place is this, anyway?"
He'll try to collect information as best he can, even if he isn't very good at it.
"I thought they'd be with you, what with the train...?"
no subject
Neither of them had seen Noctis or Gladiolus. Prompto was mildly injured. The computer had given their location as 'Maine, United States of America, Earth' all of which meant absolutely nothing to him. And then his mentions of a train....
"Train?" His movements slow a little, glancing up to Prompto. "And no, I've not seen them here."
A pause. There's so much that he feels the need to pursue here, to the point that he has to start keeping track of it all. But one thing is the absolute most important:
"Prompto, can you pull your firearm from the Armiger for me? I'd like to test a theory." After all, his own access was cut off. Which only left a few possibilities, the least worrying of such being the idea that Noctis wasn't even here, wherever this 'Earth' was. (The worst, the one he won't even let himself consider, was that something had happened to him. But that's hardest to consider than the idea that they're somewhere else entirely.)
no subject
(In any other circumstance, this would seem stupid. The two of them acting like strangers, careful about each other, as if they were enemies, caught together in a dire situation by chance. Aren't they friends? Haven't they been through enough to solidify their bonds--?)
A thought crosses his mind. How can he be sure this is Ignis? Can he be sure this isn't just another one of Ardyn's tricks?
Clayton is such an odd and ridiculous name.
The jolt of panic that he's trying very quickly to hold down tries to surge through and out his limbs, but Prompto manages to keep steady, glancing back up at Ignis with usual casualness.
"Huh? What theory?" He does as told, however, but finds himself unable to summon any of his guns or machinery weapons at all. "That's weird..."
But it was the same in Gralea, in the Keep. He couldn't access the Armiger at all--and with that his own conclusions for his own theories burst forth. There's suspicion in the look he shoots Ignis, but also a plea of hope that this isn't, again, Gralea. That he isn't back in the chamber, getting messed with. It'd be too cruel.
"It's ... really you, right?"
He's stopped trying to sit on his haunches, allowing his weight to rest on his knees, almost dejected. Ignis--or who he thinks is Ignis--will offer him a lopsided grin instead and mock him for falling so easily for this.
oh my god i'm sorry for the novel of introspection
Prompto's injuries, his caginess, Ignis's own sense of off-balance, the wrong place and year and time and waking up in a sterile tube strapped down and told to simply 'survive' for the entertainment of an unseen audience, as opposed to the musty cramped room in Cape Caem, the inability to pull forth their weapons from the Armiger, to access any speck of royal magic, the implications of all of this, and what absolute nonsense any idea that tries to explain any of it is..
He sighs and brings his hands up to slide underneath his glasses, pressing against his eyelids.
No. They have to focus on what's right in front of them for now. The more nebulous questions can be tackled any time. For now, that means Prompto and his well-being and concerns. (Though really- asking if it's 'really him'? Perhaps he had arrived even more recently than Ignis had, and was doubting the reality of the situation. it certainly feels like a fever dream.)
"Yes, Prompto. I'm just as real as you are," he says it with a bit of a sigh, more annoyed at the entirety of the situation than anything else. "But it's been the same since I awoke here: being unable to access with Armiger. I would assume that to mean we're cut off from either Noctis or the Crystal in some fashion."
He finally stands, abandoning the keychains on the floor. Rest in Piece, garish display. He doesn't have the mental capacity to continue sorting the Brittanys from the Jaysons from the Zanders. "What that fashion is, however, is beyond me at the moment. To be honest, I'm not even sure where this is, and..."
He finally trails off, looking back down at where Prompto sits-- shoulders slumped, looking down, almost... broken. And full stops, letting his words trail off. He's never been as good with Prompto has Noctis had-- generally been either too intense for the boy or never quite picking up on his energetic attitude. But... well. They're all each other have, for the moment.
And so, carefully, Ignis crouched back down, reaching out to brush gloved fingertips over Prompto's shoulder. "...Are you... alright? Do you need a break?"
eats it up
This has to be Ignis, then. There's no way the exasperation in his tone and body language can be emulated so effectively.
It's not the first time we haven't been able to access the Armiger. He thinks Ignis should know this, if the three of them ever arrived at Gralea, too. As Ignis stands, Prompto is left to keep picking at keychains. He should right the mess he made. He can leave his insecurities behind; there are, after all, more important things at hand.
He's about to speak up, when Ignis crouches back down and professes concern indistinctly the way Ignis does. Awkward but rounded. He raises his head, looks up at him, and he looks so-- sad.
"I don't know what's going on," he breathes out. "Last I remember, I was by myself, in Gralea. You guys -- I don't know what's going on, Iggy..." And, perhaps unexpectedly, but Prompto surges forward to embrace the older man. His voice cracks. "I'm just so glad to see you again."
Alive, well, uninjured, perfect vision and pretentious glasses and all.
ive been waiting for this
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