Twenty-three year old Cor Leonis infiltrates Niflheim's Magitech Development Facility in search of clues to their plans against Lucis.
What he finds is a child.
- Part 4 of Dads of the Year
Bookmarked by elric
21 Jan 2018
At the start of junior year, Prompto catches some dumb bug that's going around school.
Half the class has been out with it already, a revolving door of kids who are gone for a week and then come back bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Even Noct gets knocked out for a day or two, sending Prompto texts about how bored he is during class time. Prompto shoots back: "it's like your dream vacation dude. you get to nap all day. :p"
He thinks he's going to get off free and clear, right up until the morning he wakes up with his head pounding, feeling like someone took a cheese grater to his throat.
He gropes for the phone on his bedside table – taps out a message to Noct: "you got me sick, you jerk."
It looks about as wide as a desk drawer, and not much taller.
It's also pitch black. Like daemons bubbling up out of the ground black. Like Noct's entire wardrobe black. Like someone spilled ink on the Regalia at midnight black.
Prompto says, "You're joking," and his mouth feels as dry as the long, dusty road leading away from Longwythe.
When his phone's location indicator overlaps the blinking white dot at last, there's not so much as an overhang – not so much as a tree to block the wind. There's just Prompto, flat on the ground, crumpled form curled in on itself.
He found a jacket, somewhere – a hat, too, pulled down so that it covers his ears. They're undoubtedly the only reason he got this far. Noct prays they were enough.
Fragments of his life rush by, vibrant as light breaking through a prism. Memories form bright shadows in his mind, wonderful and terrible all at once.
It hurts, to see them; Noct feels his own isolation like a shard of glass buried beneath his skin.
But he knows – oh Astrals, does he know – that it would hurt worse, facing the emptiness of the Crystal alone.