PROMPTO ARGENTUM. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pictograph) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fares2017-02-20 04:17 pm
pictograph) wrote in fares2017-02-20 04:17 pm
Entry tags:
the three stooges.
[ moans
Easy come, easy go. It's just a leisure trip — more so a cruising disaster in the makings, since Prompto's the one steering this intrepid little party of three through the choppy waters of social finesse, and Noct and Nyx just so happen to be coming along for the ride. Neither of them have spoken a word to each other in the past half-hour they've been coasting land. Not a word. Stealing glances at them both, he might have to rethink playing peacemaker for this painful lack of obliviousness (oh, how the truly blessed remain blind to suffering), for all they've been exuding frustration in that brooding silence fostered in the no-man's land between their steps.
Maybe the issue lies in Prompto's own deceit. Liars can pick out liars, so the harmlessly dishonest can naturally do the same. The same strokes are there, commensurate to a fatality, although the only kind of danger they're going to find in a few minutes is a festival and whatever benign dares can be riled up on an evening this rife with mysticism. (Whether or not he reaches into the deep cavity of his chest and finds that honesty he so sorely lacks, even. Confronting what he refuses to acknowledge is one thing, but reconciling with his shortcomings in relation to others is an entirely different matter. Prompto is as much a slave to his perceived inadequacy as he's always feared.)
For the latent risk in allowing two volatile elements to slip this close to each other, Prompto's about to find out he's not a chemist. He should know better than mixing oil and water and inuring it to the broad-swept flame, but he has no leverage in this altercation. Sometimes all you can do is bludgeon your company of two over the head with conversational cues until that tension goes under and drowns. ]
Heeeey, c'mon! You guys are gonna' miss everything if you keep straggling like that. Don't you wanna' see it?! Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
[ Compulsion is dragging out the prince and his babysitter (by proxy) to the celebrations. Compulsion is pulling on some heartstrings with a curt toss of his head, belaying that dead weight of their conversation and tugging it forward on his own. Prompto has the audacity for that curt toss of his head and frenetic movements, hopscotching where the moonlight spills down. His hand's stuttering air, going for that chop-slice through nothing, and if they can't work this out between themselves, he's tearing it all asunder. All on his own. ]
It'll be fun!
[ His grin resolves itself, cocksure. As far as bum raps go, this is one given in good graces, mentioning nothing of the stupid futility in dragging the thirty-minute carcass of a dead argument that hasn't reached rigor mortis along. Fun.
Yeah, okay. ]
Easy come, easy go. It's just a leisure trip — more so a cruising disaster in the makings, since Prompto's the one steering this intrepid little party of three through the choppy waters of social finesse, and Noct and Nyx just so happen to be coming along for the ride. Neither of them have spoken a word to each other in the past half-hour they've been coasting land. Not a word. Stealing glances at them both, he might have to rethink playing peacemaker for this painful lack of obliviousness (oh, how the truly blessed remain blind to suffering), for all they've been exuding frustration in that brooding silence fostered in the no-man's land between their steps.
Maybe the issue lies in Prompto's own deceit. Liars can pick out liars, so the harmlessly dishonest can naturally do the same. The same strokes are there, commensurate to a fatality, although the only kind of danger they're going to find in a few minutes is a festival and whatever benign dares can be riled up on an evening this rife with mysticism. (Whether or not he reaches into the deep cavity of his chest and finds that honesty he so sorely lacks, even. Confronting what he refuses to acknowledge is one thing, but reconciling with his shortcomings in relation to others is an entirely different matter. Prompto is as much a slave to his perceived inadequacy as he's always feared.)
For the latent risk in allowing two volatile elements to slip this close to each other, Prompto's about to find out he's not a chemist. He should know better than mixing oil and water and inuring it to the broad-swept flame, but he has no leverage in this altercation. Sometimes all you can do is bludgeon your company of two over the head with conversational cues until that tension goes under and drowns. ]
Heeeey, c'mon! You guys are gonna' miss everything if you keep straggling like that. Don't you wanna' see it?! Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
[ Compulsion is dragging out the prince and his babysitter (by proxy) to the celebrations. Compulsion is pulling on some heartstrings with a curt toss of his head, belaying that dead weight of their conversation and tugging it forward on his own. Prompto has the audacity for that curt toss of his head and frenetic movements, hopscotching where the moonlight spills down. His hand's stuttering air, going for that chop-slice through nothing, and if they can't work this out between themselves, he's tearing it all asunder. All on his own. ]
It'll be fun!
[ His grin resolves itself, cocksure. As far as bum raps go, this is one given in good graces, mentioning nothing of the stupid futility in dragging the thirty-minute carcass of a dead argument that hasn't reached rigor mortis along. Fun.
Yeah, okay. ]