[Tensions have been, perhaps understandably, high between them with Noctis gone. Not only out of worry for their best friend-- but also a loss of the commonality that allowed them to forgive many of each other's traits, that gave them a reason to actually stay close together.
And perhaps if Ignis cared more about thinking further at the moment, he'd acknowledge their need to remain allies and comrades. But right now, for the first time in years, Noctis is away from him.
(The last time it had happened, they'd been young. Noctis was injured and spirited away to Tenebrae for healing. There had been fears he might die, and Ignis had been physically ill with worry every night at the thought his Prince may not make it back--)
He's not thought about what to even tell the network yet. Those who knew Noctis deserve to be aware. But he knows (and hates-) that the immediate response will likely be sympathetic platitudes that he has no interest in. His grief is personal, and not something he wishes to share. Not even with the only man here who would even come close to understanding the complete loss of purpose and meaning it comes with.
He manages to glance up as Prompto arrives: just as he'd said, carrying some take-out containers. (and miserably, a part of him detests the way Prompto is able to function so easily, knowing that if Noctis went home, he goes to his death, unless they find a way to interfere.)]
....Now is fine. [He presses himself up, going through the motions of moving to the kitchen to fetch plates and utensils.] Thank you for procuring dinner.
[He doesn't sound thankful. But the words are easy and formality doesn't necessitate having emotions.]
[ignis always worked so hard for them, cooking things up when camping, despite his own exhaustion and desires to lie down and take a break after a long day of hunting, all up to when he could see no longer, the fear of him cutting his hands on knives or burning himself with hot oil enough to put him off the idea of cooking. cold beans weren't a just substitute, but in many ways, even heating those up felt like putting salt on a still-fresh wound.]
[now, at least, prompto can come up with meals without thinking he's being too much or too little or insulting. if only the circumstances were different, though, and if only he were buying a meal for three rather than two.]
[he's not really that hungry, but there's gotta be a sense of normalcy, after all.]
[plates and utensils set, prompto sits himself down opposite the other and starts packing up some rice and sides onto his plate, cutting into the cooked fish and plating up. unceremoniously, he pushes the containers closer to ignis's end of the table.]
[the silence is awkward as prompto slowly and quietly puts spoonful after spoonful of rice and fish and salad into his mouth, the clink of spoon on the plate only seeming to exacerbate how they really don't have much to talk about.]
...rice's kinda dry. Never thought I'd say I want beans on my plate.
[There's likely similar parallels between Ignis here and in the weeks following Altissia. A drier tone, a more internal and withdrawn demeanor. A subdued sort of pseudo-hesitancy, lacking in clear purpose or goals. (Granted, back home it was both his lack of sight and the vision gifted by Pryna, showing him Noctis's ultimate fate on the throne-- and here it's simply feeling lost in this new world, stripped of his goals of returning home with him to avoid the future they'd been told about.)
But the feigned normalcy here is suffocating. It grates at him, needling against his skin with the discomfort of the whole situation. Acting normal when everything is wrong, when everything is torn apart, when the single person who matters, the one he's sworn to look out for and stay beside and serve is simply absent.
He goes through the motions of assisting with serving the food, sits across from Prompto, prods at the fish gently with his fork, as though attempting the motions will make him actually hungry.]
...Likely from the water rationings leading to lower ratios used in cooking. Beans would likely be worse. Unsorted stones and not enough soaking. [Information no one asked for, that's easier than actually saying anything else. Especially with how reminiscent Prompto's comment is of Noctis's least-favourite food.
He's not in a hurry to have an emotional talk with Prompto. Ignis has always dealt with any personal matter on his own. Kept within in neat compartments, where they won't affect his duties. Shoving himself head first into everything he can until it's been turned into a numb sequence of events, a to-do list to get through, something he has control over. And perhaps he resents the idea that Prompto is far more articulate about his emotions. Includes others in it and expresses himself, works it outwardly. That he might be expected to console the boy, who was separated from his friend, sure, but not completely devoid of his life's purpose.
So: yeah. The silences are super awkward as he pays more attention to the occasional update of a news feed in the corner of his HUD, finally seeming to convince himself to take a bite of some of the fish.]
You're right, as usual. No one can beat you when it comes to knowing about food.
[he cracks a grin, looking up, only to find that ignis seems to be elsewhere--his gaze focused on the side as if he's mentally checking the information on their neural implants. they had made a bit of a rule: no phones while eating, and so it was only natural that no browsing the mental internet was a new rule they got to doing while here.]
[clearly, there's no way of really making sure, but right now it's fairly obvious.]
[it's not until he's halfway done (he really doesn't feel that hungry) and ignis has barely had a few bites that he speaks up; voice airy and hopefully lighthearted, not as condemning as it could otherwise be misheard as.]
Y'know, what would Noct want us to do, at a time like this? It's what I think about when I start feeling down about him not being here anymore.
[He barely listened to Prompto's comment. It's just filler noise, babbling to fill in the silence without conveying much of anything. A way for Prompto to work out some of his anxious energy, he's sure. But after the minutes of quiet, he keys in at Noctis's name.
It's probably a reasonable comment- trying to find a way to remember that Noctis isn't dead, even though he'd just carefully informed them of his fated demise at home. He may not even be on Eos, for all they know. But regardless, he's somewhere they can't immediately follow, and it sears inside his chest, scalding the underside of his ribs and heart as though he'd been burned.
He looks up sharply, eyes no less bright and cutting for the lack of lenses between them.]
It hardly matters if he's not here to want it, or even be aware of it. [His frown deepens.] But I'll humor you. What do you believe he'd want.
[It's too soon to Noct telling him of his fate. To the fact that he's The Chosen King, that to destroy the Starscourge he'll have to use all of the Crystal's power... and that using the crystal destroys the life of all who channel its magic. As it did with Mors, as it did with Regis, as it did with every Lucis Caelum monarch for millenia.
Noctis isn't dead. But right now, it feels like he may as well be, removed from where they're able to do or change anything about his fate.]
[prompto sits up straighter at that, feeling a little -- out of place, as if he's stepped through a door of a conversation he's not ready to take on by himself. were it gladio or noctis, they could have more to back themselves on.]
[prompto's someone who barely has any footing where ignis is concerned.]
[as long as noctis was there, things were fine, right?]
He... He'd want us to... keep going forward, I think. [he frowns] Before he told us about his fate and the prophecy, he kept telling me that he wanted me to do something that didn't include him. Like work with Viv, being an actual photographer. I think that's what he was trying to say -- that he'd feel better knowing I would be able to move on without him around.
[well, those were a lot of thoughts he had in his head about the situation--thoughts he had been thinking about for a while now.]
[The worst part is that Prompto is right. If they asked Noctis, he'd say he wanted everyone to have the best lives possible, with or without him. As selfless and kindhearted and belligerently well-intentioned as Noct is, of course he'd immediately place everyone around him above himself.
But it all just feels so wrong. Wrong and off-kilter in ways he can barely even articulate. The idea of carrying on without Noctis, of taking his possible-death in stride and simply doing something else.
(There was nothing else. Noctis was the only one of them who truly mattered. Burdened with the responsibility of ruling that he'd never asked for, dragging his feet, but ultimately acting in the interest of everyone around him. The idea of him having his future torn away from him just so every other idiot on the street could continue on in their ignorance--)
His jaw clenches, brows furrowed as he looks downward at Prompto's words.]
-Then for once in my life, I'd like to be selfish. [It's bitterly spoken, most of the acid there directed at himself. Because even though he knows what Noctis would want, he can't bring himself to agree in the slightest.] He may wish for us to give up and accept that we must be content where we are, but ultimately I believe he'd be happier if he didn't have to even ask that of his friends.
[Which means that anything he can do to try and avoid that future.... he will.]
I wish he didn't have to ask that of us in the first place either.
[he frowns, keeping his gaze level on ignis, even as the other doesn't quite look at him as he speaks.]
But don't you get it? I can't even try and imagine how he must have felt having to come to terms with all of this--of this messed up future delivered via a shitty prophecy and super vague gods that pretend to care about us mortals. How helpless he feels. And then asking his friends to reassure him they'll be fine after he's gone? Maybe that's the only sense of happiness he can take from this whole situation.
[there's sniffle -- but prompto isn't crying. it's just incredibly crappy to have to come to terms with this reality.]
You're asking him to ignore any loose ends for now cuz "you'll find a way," but there's no certainty in that. Gods, I wish there was. [he swallows hard, somewhat WIRED ABOUT THE FACT THAT HE SASSED IGNIS OUT THERE FOR A SECOND. HOOO...] Giving him hope of something different would only make the fall a lot harder and painful. You know that.
I'm not asking him to do anything, Prompto, because he isn't here. [The retort is fast and slung back quickly- and finally he's sitting up, fire behind those bright green eyes as he stares back at the other man just as intensely as he does most everything in his life.]
You say this all like he's some specter watching over us, somehow privy to our conversations and our actions. He's not dead, nor is he a ghost. He simply isn't here. What that means in the scheme of it all is completely unknowable. If he's stuck on the path of fate, then whatever we do here doesn't matter. If he's not, then my attempts at finding a way to avert his death are nothing but beneficial.
[It's cold and harsh, every consonant sharp like a guillotine's blade.]
Feeling helpless and acting helpless are different. Perhaps it's easier for you to do the latter and claim you're simply following Noctis's will, but I refuse to lay down so easily.
[prompto's stomach churns and his blood feels like it's running cold. ignis speaks sharply, in such a way that it shapes his words to what seems to be criticism towards prompto. surely unintentional, but there is not going to be any intentional apology afterwards or reassurance that he had not intended to make them as biting as they come off as.]
[and that's what, perhaps, makes him lose his appetite altogether.]
Do you think it's a contest? Who is liked best by Noct? Who can do better by him?
[the questions may be--somewhat out of place, but they have everything to do with their current circumstances. ignis is throwing comparisons, of how inaction is ineffective (assuming it's prompto's decision and show of character) and that he could otherwise do better by attempting to change fate.]
[all prompto wanted to do was to give ignis reassurance that even if noctis wasn't here, there was no need to act like it was the end of all things.]
I'm sorry you're stuck with me and I that can't understand why you're looking at things the way you are. I'm trying to look out for you and be a friend, but that's obviously not something I can give.
[he huffs, makes up his mind, and stands, getting away from the table.]
--and now you're probably gonna say how I'm making this about m'self and I'm totally missing the point. Maybe. But -- can you just stop thinking so perpendicular-like for a sec? You might not think it but we really pay attention to what you say and look at you for reassurance. Your words carry more weight than what you imagine -- and you're just - being real tone deaf sometimes.
[That frown deepens as Prompto comes back with those questions-- because as always, they seem to come from a completely different conversation. A contest? Liked best? Yet again, it feels to him as though Prompto is on some different level of communication entirely, missing every single point and conjuring his own out of the air. And yet again, it's as though Prompto has taken great personal insult with Ignis's personal feelings and his own motives and actions.
At least Prompto knows that Ignis had been about to call him out on missing the point and somehow shrouding himself as a victim during a simple disagreement.
Years of dealing with Noct help him refrain from rolling his eyes as Prompto stands up and moves away, as though injecting space between them with a dismissive flounce.]
Well, as you've said it for me there's no need. [A dry bit of snark still escapes, and he folds his arms over his chest. Still, as aggravated as he seems, there's a great deal of confusion to it as well, the hurt anger tempered by his sheer inability to follow Prompto's chain of reasoning.]
Where are you even getting this? You've given your thoughts on the matter, I've disagreed and given my own, and now you seem convinced that this is some pathetic rivalry of grief, and I should, for some reason, cater to your misplaced reliance on me to manage your emotional instability, regardless of my own thoughts on the matter. Is that an accurate summary, or am I being perpendicular again?
It's not about whether you can or can't express your opinion. Of course you can, actually please do! But it's the way you're saying things, like it's do or die--everyone else is wrong and stupid for thinking it.
[ignis will probably continue to remain unaware of what it is prompto means, truly, for he needs to experience it from his perspective to really see it.]
[in the end, it probably doesn't matter. they're both hurt at the fact that they've "lost" noctis and are without. the two of them aren't on the best of terms, just the two of them, so of course this would be difficult regardless.]
And for the record, I'm not talking about my reliance on you for my "emotional instability" management. All of us do- Noct, Gladio, myself. I know they're not here, but I meant us when I said what I said.
[does it...even matter?]
[instead of crossing his arms, prompto just does a frustrating throw of his hands up and heads on over towards the door.]
Y'know, forget it. I'm wrong, you're right-- I never make sense and I'm obviously emotionally unstable.
[It's so familiar to dealing with a teenage Noctis, really. All the feelings and emotions and having no outlet for them. Expressing his frustration with irrational apathy and anger, lashing back at facts laid out before him. And so, he closes his eyes for a moment, at least keeping his slow sigh inaudible.
It was so much easier when he could just tell Noctis that he was unreasonable and leave, give the at-the-time boy time to work out his feelings and find out how to process them. To have that unspoken but mutual faith in one another that their bond was not broken, only strained. With Prompto-- that isn't there. It all feels tenuous and unbalanced, the other man coming from a place he can't even comprehend, and always upset when his points don't come across.
Prompto lacks the excuse of being a fifteen year old-- but perhaps the same strategy would be fore the best, especially as Prompto moves to leave. Ignis stands up, beginning to gather the utensils. Angry outburts or not, they can't just leave things sitting out.]
We both know that isn't how you feel, Prompto. [In regards to his final comments, that is. It's just angry sarcasm, another verbal lashing. And so he won't feed too much into it, aware that no progress will be made. (Though, inwardly, he feels that Prompto's first comment isn't how he feels, either. Why would he want Ignis's opinion when he'd already reacted so poorly to the barest edges of it?)]
I'm glad that you feel strongly about your decisions and opinions and follow them through. [It's. Not an apology. But it's at least conceding that Prompto's feelings are valid and real.] It's an earnest trait. But I do have difficulty following your train of thought or understanding just what it is you're expecting from me until you're already too frustrated.
[he's upset noctis isn't around, that much is true and understood. ignis feels the same. and perhaps they are both to blame for not quite understanding each other and their own experiences in the matter. but they always seem to run parallel, never quite meeting at a point of understanding.]
[prompto worries at his bottom lip momentarily, then sighs, slumping his arms.]
[he doesn't want to fight ignis -- but it just, it sucks.]
I don't want anything from you. I just... wish you didn't have to think that you have to have an answer for everything all the time. It's okay to be helpless, sometimes, and to just... roll in that feeling.
[For a moment, he just lets his eyes close, as though willing to have the patience to deal with this even more than he already has, and without pointing out every single contradictory statement Prompto had just made within the past few minutes alone. In a council debate, he would have already ripped the boy to pieces for as much as one statement betrays the last, the sheer inconsistency in what he's asking for, the way his words and actions don't line up.
Prompto doesn't want anything, and yet he looks to him for reassurance. This entire disagreement stemmed from their differing viewpoints being stated aloud and their separate methodologies, and yet Prompto had suggested he was 'free' to express his opinion. (Likely simply a show of trying to be more morally correct, Ignis assumes.)
But maybe that's just what it means to be more in touch with ones emotions: To succumb to the irrationality of it all. To know that it's useless and unproductive and nonsensical, and to revel in it anyway.
Useless.]
Should I begin to feel helpless, I'll remember that you've granted your permission.
[...He may not be going on the attack, but that doesn't mean he can help himself from those straight up sassy comments.]
[prompto can't read ignis's mind, and so puts his hands up in an obvious display of frustration and annoyance. at this point, he really doesn't want to argue with ignis any further.]
Fine. Great.
[shoes on, he pushes for the door.]
I'll catch you later.
[there is nothing more that he wants to add; he just wants to disappear, leave, and find refuge elsewhere. he has plenty of options for that--to be where he can find solace and more given understanding than the one which ignis doesn't seem able to provide.]
[out the doorway he goes, and disappears around the corner, a tumble of blond hair and hands shoved into his pockets.]
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no subject
And perhaps if Ignis cared more about thinking further at the moment, he'd acknowledge their need to remain allies and comrades. But right now, for the first time in years, Noctis is away from him.
(The last time it had happened, they'd been young. Noctis was injured and spirited away to Tenebrae for healing. There had been fears he might die, and Ignis had been physically ill with worry every night at the thought his Prince may not make it back--)
He's not thought about what to even tell the network yet. Those who knew Noctis deserve to be aware. But he knows (and hates-) that the immediate response will likely be sympathetic platitudes that he has no interest in. His grief is personal, and not something he wishes to share. Not even with the only man here who would even come close to understanding the complete loss of purpose and meaning it comes with.
He manages to glance up as Prompto arrives: just as he'd said, carrying some take-out containers. (and miserably, a part of him detests the way Prompto is able to function so easily, knowing that if Noctis went home, he goes to his death, unless they find a way to interfere.)]
....Now is fine. [He presses himself up, going through the motions of moving to the kitchen to fetch plates and utensils.] Thank you for procuring dinner.
[He doesn't sound thankful. But the words are easy and formality doesn't necessitate having emotions.]
no subject
[ignis always worked so hard for them, cooking things up when camping, despite his own exhaustion and desires to lie down and take a break after a long day of hunting, all up to when he could see no longer, the fear of him cutting his hands on knives or burning himself with hot oil enough to put him off the idea of cooking. cold beans weren't a just substitute, but in many ways, even heating those up felt like putting salt on a still-fresh wound.]
[now, at least, prompto can come up with meals without thinking he's being too much or too little or insulting. if only the circumstances were different, though, and if only he were buying a meal for three rather than two.]
[he's not really that hungry, but there's gotta be a sense of normalcy, after all.]
[plates and utensils set, prompto sits himself down opposite the other and starts packing up some rice and sides onto his plate, cutting into the cooked fish and plating up. unceremoniously, he pushes the containers closer to ignis's end of the table.]
[the silence is awkward as prompto slowly and quietly puts spoonful after spoonful of rice and fish and salad into his mouth, the clink of spoon on the plate only seeming to exacerbate how they really don't have much to talk about.]
...rice's kinda dry. Never thought I'd say I want beans on my plate.
no subject
But the feigned normalcy here is suffocating. It grates at him, needling against his skin with the discomfort of the whole situation. Acting normal when everything is wrong, when everything is torn apart, when the single person who matters, the one he's sworn to look out for and stay beside and serve is simply absent.
He goes through the motions of assisting with serving the food, sits across from Prompto, prods at the fish gently with his fork, as though attempting the motions will make him actually hungry.]
...Likely from the water rationings leading to lower ratios used in cooking. Beans would likely be worse. Unsorted stones and not enough soaking. [Information no one asked for, that's easier than actually saying anything else. Especially with how reminiscent Prompto's comment is of Noctis's least-favourite food.
He's not in a hurry to have an emotional talk with Prompto. Ignis has always dealt with any personal matter on his own. Kept within in neat compartments, where they won't affect his duties. Shoving himself head first into everything he can until it's been turned into a numb sequence of events, a to-do list to get through, something he has control over. And perhaps he resents the idea that Prompto is far more articulate about his emotions. Includes others in it and expresses himself, works it outwardly. That he might be expected to console the boy, who was separated from his friend, sure, but not completely devoid of his life's purpose.
So: yeah. The silences are super awkward as he pays more attention to the occasional update of a news feed in the corner of his HUD, finally seeming to convince himself to take a bite of some of the fish.]
no subject
[he cracks a grin, looking up, only to find that ignis seems to be elsewhere--his gaze focused on the side as if he's mentally checking the information on their neural implants. they had made a bit of a rule: no phones while eating, and so it was only natural that no browsing the mental internet was a new rule they got to doing while here.]
[clearly, there's no way of really making sure, but right now it's fairly obvious.]
[it's not until he's halfway done (he really doesn't feel that hungry) and ignis has barely had a few bites that he speaks up; voice airy and hopefully lighthearted, not as condemning as it could otherwise be misheard as.]
Y'know, what would Noct want us to do, at a time like this? It's what I think about when I start feeling down about him not being here anymore.
[good knowing you, argentum.]
no subject
It's probably a reasonable comment- trying to find a way to remember that Noctis isn't dead, even though he'd just carefully informed them of his fated demise at home. He may not even be on Eos, for all they know. But regardless, he's somewhere they can't immediately follow, and it sears inside his chest, scalding the underside of his ribs and heart as though he'd been burned.
He looks up sharply, eyes no less bright and cutting for the lack of lenses between them.]
It hardly matters if he's not here to want it, or even be aware of it. [His frown deepens.] But I'll humor you. What do you believe he'd want.
[It's too soon to Noct telling him of his fate. To the fact that he's The Chosen King, that to destroy the Starscourge he'll have to use all of the Crystal's power... and that using the crystal destroys the life of all who channel its magic. As it did with Mors, as it did with Regis, as it did with every Lucis Caelum monarch for millenia.
Noctis isn't dead. But right now, it feels like he may as well be, removed from where they're able to do or change anything about his fate.]
no subject
[prompto's someone who barely has any footing where ignis is concerned.]
[as long as noctis was there, things were fine, right?]
He... He'd want us to... keep going forward, I think. [he frowns] Before he told us about his fate and the prophecy, he kept telling me that he wanted me to do something that didn't include him. Like work with Viv, being an actual photographer. I think that's what he was trying to say -- that he'd feel better knowing I would be able to move on without him around.
[well, those were a lot of thoughts he had in his head about the situation--thoughts he had been thinking about for a while now.]
no subject
But it all just feels so wrong. Wrong and off-kilter in ways he can barely even articulate. The idea of carrying on without Noctis, of taking his possible-death in stride and simply doing something else.
(There was nothing else. Noctis was the only one of them who truly mattered. Burdened with the responsibility of ruling that he'd never asked for, dragging his feet, but ultimately acting in the interest of everyone around him. The idea of him having his future torn away from him just so every other idiot on the street could continue on in their ignorance--)
His jaw clenches, brows furrowed as he looks downward at Prompto's words.]
-Then for once in my life, I'd like to be selfish. [It's bitterly spoken, most of the acid there directed at himself. Because even though he knows what Noctis would want, he can't bring himself to agree in the slightest.] He may wish for us to give up and accept that we must be content where we are, but ultimately I believe he'd be happier if he didn't have to even ask that of his friends.
[Which means that anything he can do to try and avoid that future.... he will.]
no subject
[he frowns, keeping his gaze level on ignis, even as the other doesn't quite look at him as he speaks.]
But don't you get it? I can't even try and imagine how he must have felt having to come to terms with all of this--of this messed up future delivered via a shitty prophecy and super vague gods that pretend to care about us mortals. How helpless he feels. And then asking his friends to reassure him they'll be fine after he's gone? Maybe that's the only sense of happiness he can take from this whole situation.
[there's sniffle -- but prompto isn't crying. it's just incredibly crappy to have to come to terms with this reality.]
You're asking him to ignore any loose ends for now cuz "you'll find a way," but there's no certainty in that. Gods, I wish there was. [he swallows hard, somewhat WIRED ABOUT THE FACT THAT HE SASSED IGNIS OUT THERE FOR A SECOND. HOOO...] Giving him hope of something different would only make the fall a lot harder and painful. You know that.
no subject
You say this all like he's some specter watching over us, somehow privy to our conversations and our actions. He's not dead, nor is he a ghost. He simply isn't here. What that means in the scheme of it all is completely unknowable. If he's stuck on the path of fate, then whatever we do here doesn't matter. If he's not, then my attempts at finding a way to avert his death are nothing but beneficial.
[It's cold and harsh, every consonant sharp like a guillotine's blade.]
Feeling helpless and acting helpless are different. Perhaps it's easier for you to do the latter and claim you're simply following Noctis's will, but I refuse to lay down so easily.
no subject
[and that's what, perhaps, makes him lose his appetite altogether.]
Do you think it's a contest? Who is liked best by Noct? Who can do better by him?
[the questions may be--somewhat out of place, but they have everything to do with their current circumstances. ignis is throwing comparisons, of how inaction is ineffective (assuming it's prompto's decision and show of character) and that he could otherwise do better by attempting to change fate.]
[all prompto wanted to do was to give ignis reassurance that even if noctis wasn't here, there was no need to act like it was the end of all things.]
I'm sorry you're stuck with me and I that can't understand why you're looking at things the way you are. I'm trying to look out for you and be a friend, but that's obviously not something I can give.
[he huffs, makes up his mind, and stands, getting away from the table.]
--and now you're probably gonna say how I'm making this about m'self and I'm totally missing the point. Maybe. But -- can you just stop thinking so perpendicular-like for a sec? You might not think it but we really pay attention to what you say and look at you for reassurance. Your words carry more weight than what you imagine -- and you're just - being real tone deaf sometimes.
no subject
At least Prompto knows that Ignis had been about to call him out on missing the point and somehow shrouding himself as a victim during a simple disagreement.
Years of dealing with Noct help him refrain from rolling his eyes as Prompto stands up and moves away, as though injecting space between them with a dismissive flounce.]
Well, as you've said it for me there's no need. [A dry bit of snark still escapes, and he folds his arms over his chest. Still, as aggravated as he seems, there's a great deal of confusion to it as well, the hurt anger tempered by his sheer inability to follow Prompto's chain of reasoning.]
Where are you even getting this? You've given your thoughts on the matter, I've disagreed and given my own, and now you seem convinced that this is some pathetic rivalry of grief, and I should, for some reason, cater to your misplaced reliance on me to manage your emotional instability, regardless of my own thoughts on the matter. Is that an accurate summary, or am I being perpendicular again?
no subject
[ignis will probably continue to remain unaware of what it is prompto means, truly, for he needs to experience it from his perspective to really see it.]
[in the end, it probably doesn't matter. they're both hurt at the fact that they've "lost" noctis and are without. the two of them aren't on the best of terms, just the two of them, so of course this would be difficult regardless.]
And for the record, I'm not talking about my reliance on you for my "emotional instability" management. All of us do- Noct, Gladio, myself. I know they're not here, but I meant us when I said what I said.
[does it...even matter?]
[instead of crossing his arms, prompto just does a frustrating throw of his hands up and heads on over towards the door.]
Y'know, forget it. I'm wrong, you're right-- I never make sense and I'm obviously emotionally unstable.
no subject
It was so much easier when he could just tell Noctis that he was unreasonable and leave, give the at-the-time boy time to work out his feelings and find out how to process them. To have that unspoken but mutual faith in one another that their bond was not broken, only strained. With Prompto-- that isn't there. It all feels tenuous and unbalanced, the other man coming from a place he can't even comprehend, and always upset when his points don't come across.
Prompto lacks the excuse of being a fifteen year old-- but perhaps the same strategy would be fore the best, especially as Prompto moves to leave. Ignis stands up, beginning to gather the utensils. Angry outburts or not, they can't just leave things sitting out.]
We both know that isn't how you feel, Prompto. [In regards to his final comments, that is. It's just angry sarcasm, another verbal lashing. And so he won't feed too much into it, aware that no progress will be made. (Though, inwardly, he feels that Prompto's first comment isn't how he feels, either. Why would he want Ignis's opinion when he'd already reacted so poorly to the barest edges of it?)]
I'm glad that you feel strongly about your decisions and opinions and follow them through. [It's. Not an apology. But it's at least conceding that Prompto's feelings are valid and real.] It's an earnest trait. But I do have difficulty following your train of thought or understanding just what it is you're expecting from me until you're already too frustrated.
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[prompto worries at his bottom lip momentarily, then sighs, slumping his arms.]
[he doesn't want to fight ignis -- but it just, it sucks.]
I don't want anything from you. I just... wish you didn't have to think that you have to have an answer for everything all the time. It's okay to be helpless, sometimes, and to just... roll in that feeling.
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Prompto doesn't want anything, and yet he looks to him for reassurance. This entire disagreement stemmed from their differing viewpoints being stated aloud and their separate methodologies, and yet Prompto had suggested he was 'free' to express his opinion. (Likely simply a show of trying to be more morally correct, Ignis assumes.)
But maybe that's just what it means to be more in touch with ones emotions: To succumb to the irrationality of it all. To know that it's useless and unproductive and nonsensical, and to revel in it anyway.
Useless.]
Should I begin to feel helpless, I'll remember that you've granted your permission.
[...He may not be going on the attack, but that doesn't mean he can help himself from those straight up sassy comments.]
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Fine. Great.
[shoes on, he pushes for the door.]
I'll catch you later.
[there is nothing more that he wants to add; he just wants to disappear, leave, and find refuge elsewhere. he has plenty of options for that--to be where he can find solace and more given understanding than the one which ignis doesn't seem able to provide.]
[out the doorway he goes, and disappears around the corner, a tumble of blond hair and hands shoved into his pockets.]