[The breath he takes isn't the sharp kind from stinging, unexpected pain. It's audible like that, but a milli-beat longer, deeper, deliberate, like when you see the needle and turn away but still feel it enter--surprised not by the hurt itself, but how much.]
...Aestas.
[Prompto knew, from everything she said then and the picture he's formed of her over the last few months, that Summer stole his color from him because she honestly thought it would help, and if she thought it would help, that could only be because it had helped her in the past. To survive, on her own. In the end, the only one she could rely on to come through for her was Summer herself. That made sense, Prompto figured that much on his own.
What he didn't know was what exactly she'd had to come through, to get to this answer. Figuring out how to make it stop, when she learned how to kill--a person, not a creature.
That's what she said, isn't it? It's like you wish it could just...stop. Just for a little while.
That's how you cope when no one comes for you. That's how you cope when you have to, when no one's there to save you if you can't.]
And after? It doesn't... It didn't go away, did it? [He slows for a second, looks around, makes a turn; as he does, he presses the heel of his hand hard against his heart. No. It doesn't go away.] What do you need then?
no subject
...Aestas.
[Prompto knew, from everything she said then and the picture he's formed of her over the last few months, that Summer stole his color from him because she honestly thought it would help, and if she thought it would help, that could only be because it had helped her in the past. To survive, on her own. In the end, the only one she could rely on to come through for her was Summer herself. That made sense, Prompto figured that much on his own.
What he didn't know was what exactly she'd had to come through, to get to this answer. Figuring out how to make it stop, when she learned how to kill--a person, not a creature.
That's what she said, isn't it? It's like you wish it could just...stop. Just for a little while.
That's how you cope when no one comes for you. That's how you cope when you have to, when no one's there to save you if you can't.]
And after? It doesn't... It didn't go away, did it? [He slows for a second, looks around, makes a turn; as he does, he presses the heel of his hand hard against his heart. No. It doesn't go away.] What do you need then?