yeah! it's really crazy?! it's almost like you predicted it! you know what's even more amazing? it's still got the pictures i took with it on the memory card!
[It is a little uncanny, but at least it's the good sort of uncanny. A camera from home, with photographs still intact — for someone displaced and pining for their world, it’s a bittersweet blessing in disguise.]
That is amazing, Prompto.
[What he would give for just a few pictures of home, of faces he knows and remembers.]
Can I still see them sometime? When it’s convenient for you.
i actually wanted to check them with you! there's a lot here... i had forgotten i even took some of these pictures noct told me you got injured so i wanted to catch up with you if you're up for it?! bet a bunch of ppl are "checking up on you" right lol
I've had a few check in, but I can't complain. I can only be appreciative at this point.
[Even if Markus will say a hundred times over that the fussing is unnecessary...]
I'm to curious to not be up to it. Why don't you swing by? I have something for you, anyway.
[Pre-emptively, Markus sends the location of the android apartment, coupled with the room number; a small complex suited for those with lower incomes, third floor. Nothing fancy, but he gets to meet the roomba and the arena battle bot if he pays Markus a visit.]
[Prompto wonders what it could be... Yes, Markus is pretty sure that the young man has forgotten about his request not all that long ago. Well, that's fine, if it makes for a better surprise.]
Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere if you promise to show me a chocobo. See you soon.
[And to his word, he waits!]
Edited (SHUT UP... also *too up there WHAT THE HECK i told you i'm a mess) 2019-02-08 03:55 (UTC)
[that's all he sends before he's following the map, making his way to the androids's apartment and marveling at the fact that hey -- this is where noctis would go to when he needs a break from things. and what's better about that knowledge? it doesn't bother him, with needless feelings of uselessness or jealousy. it's good that noctis has a place where he can breathe easy when things from home start getting real bad. and he can't blame his best friend, either, if just being together constantly reminds him that he's going to have to give it all up.]
[Oblivious to thoughts that might put a damper on anyone’s day wiggling around in Prompto’s mind, he has no reason to second-guess the young man’s enthusiasm when he meets him at the door.
Or rather, when the door slides open after Markus offers it a verbal command, revealing the sight of the android making his way down the stout corridor to greet him — his gait a little slower than usual, but he stands as tall and straight-backed as before. Likely out of stubbornness.]
Prompto, come in.
[-he says, smiling. In the background, where the living room opens up, a little black roomba vacuum-zooms by.]
[total ignis vibe is what prompto thinks the second he sees markus, grinning because it's the kind of comment he'd drop on noctis and the other would say "right?!"]
[nevertheless, in he goes once the door gives him room to (he doesn't wait for it to slide open all the way, rather scooting in with minimal effort and probably as expected. he's excited but he's also full of energy that doesn't let him stand around to wait patiently for things to move, clearly.]
Markus, hey! You look like you're not a fan of house arres--
[he's grinning -- and soon that grin goes slack into a surprised expression, before he's smiling excitedly at the sight behind markus.]
[The door closes with a gentle hiss behind him. No harm, no foul, where Prompto's enthusiasm is always concerned.
And Markus is certainly not a fan of house arrest. Being home is an improvement over the safehouse (too many who've lost, too much stress, too much sorrow, so much blood during those first days still staining the clothes of those getting no sleep, no rest), but he still grows restless. Wants to move, wants to slink across the city, wants to play piano, wants to put brush to canvas. He's patient with others, but less patient with himself and his own body.
Having company over helps, at least.
He grin slides into something wider, turning to look behind him. They've just missed the little roomba as it zips around the corner in a gentle arc.]
That's Bernard. He's a... small vacuum robot. [He gestures for Prompto to follow him down the hall and into the open living room. It's neat, organized, almost looking like a model home -- if not for the paintings adorning the wall, all in a similar style, but of different colors and subjects. Markus' artistic hand, adding character to their living space.] Noctis gave him to us. Wait a moment and I'm sure he'll come back around this way soon.
[prompto's strides into the home are purposeful, completely missing out on the decor as he grips the straps of his bag tight and follows markus, looking around the corner to see if he can spot "bernard."]
[he can hear the soothing whirring of the wheels, and his smile is just so much right now.]
My favorite thing about the future is the robots.
[there's no intent to -- injure with insult, regarding the issue of robots or androids. prompto knows there's a vehement difference between the two and, regardless, he's quite aware that both are deserving of some respect to being alive. human or not, souls or not, for prompto? robots are a blessed addition to his cyberpunk life. it'd be shamefully hypocritical of himself to think otherwise.]
[turning to markus, he's beaming at the man, and locks a pat on his shoulder.]
How's it been, dude! It's great to see you again. It feels like a while.
[He knows that Prompto's intent is not to offend, and that his excitement is sincere. To Markus, there's nothing wrong about appreciating how technology pushes forward throughout the decades, the centuries. In the end, it's the only reason why he was even conceptualized or built.]
You're mechanically-minded. That isn't very surprising, and the technology here must be constantly fascinating to you. You and the man who created me would've had a lot to talk about.
[He gestures at the couch if Prompto wants to sit down or put his things aside.]
Wait here a second and let me fetch something for you.
[Markus crosses the short distance to the balcony connected to the main living area, stepping out into the sun, disappearing behind an area obscured by the wall.
In the meanwhile, the faint hovering noises encroach. If Prompto peeks down the hallway again, Bernard can be seen approaching down the length of the corridor and swerving next to the couch, bumping up against the young man's shoe.]
[they talked about carl before, but prompto knows that carl isn't markus's "maker" but a father figure. he wonders what the man is like, for a fraction of a second, and catches a glimpse of his own face on a reflective surface, envisioning instead verstael besithia -- the worst of intentions, a deluded sense of grandeur, the blood of hundreds on his hands.]
[prompto waits in his own anxious thoughts and momentary fretting--hands tightening over fingers and curling in and out--left alone, but the sight of an approaching bernard bumping against his shoes brings a smile to his face. he sinks down to a squat, presses a palm against the surface of the roomba.]
Hey there, Bernie. My shoes are dirty, huh?
[he wonder if it understands his words, but since there's no form of outward communication, prompto can't tell.]
[instead, he sits himself down on the couch and lifts his feet, laces dangling downwards from his sloppy tying, allowing bernard to vaccuum where he was standing a second before.]
His name's Elijah Kamski. [—come the quiet tones peaking out from behind the glass-paned doors of the balcony, opened to let sunlight and brackish breeze in.] To put it simply, he was the inventor of my kind, and—
[Markus comes back in, fingers curled beneath the back edges of a large, fully painted canvas. One hand lags behind him to slide the balcony doors shut with a click, temporarily distracted by the sight of Prompto and his legs kicked up in the air, allowing Bernard to vacuum beneath him. And when he continues, his words have the soft lilt of a repressed laugh living behind them.]
—the man who oversaw my own personal creation. And he was a good friend of Carl’s.
[Simple enough to infer that this was how Markus ended up caring for Carl. And how he ended up in Carl’s care.
Markus moves close, just stopping short of where Bernard diligently cleans back and forth, and flips the canvas around to reveal the painted side. It’s a chicken; done in a style that matches the art placed here and there along the apartment walls.]
[his feet up, his backpack pressed to his chest as he slowly, slowly slips downwards on the couch--he never chose a good position to sit in to begin with--the sound of markus's voice has him putting his feet down between the roomba's floorspace and pushing himself to sit up straighter.]
He's got a cool name.
[elijah kamski just has a nice sound to it.]
[whatever else prompto might want to say about that is left to flounder, mouth opening and eyebrows creasing into a frown, as if trying to figure out what markus is holding. it's a canvas, obviously, but his brain is slowly making a connection with what it is and something prompto had asked for, weeks ago.]
[turned around, his expression gives way to one of exaggerated surprise (although it's never exaggerated in the meanest sense), pointing at it.]
Is that a chicken? It's a chicken, isn't it! It looks just like a cockatrice!
[Somewhere, Elijah Kamski might actually appreciate the compliment slung at his name. Or he might not give one whit, given the man’s propensity to allow everything slide off of his shoulders, eccentric and sometimes ineffable as he remembers him to be.
Still, unaware of how the name seems to stick with Prompto, his grin reaches his eyes at the other’s reaction. Bernard’s done vacuuming around the front of the couch, and swivels around its corner to take care of the back.]
It is. A male chicken; a rooster. I might’ve taken a few liberties with the colors, but generally this is what you’ll find if you match it with what exists online.
[Because honestly, Prompto could’ve just future-googled it.]
Take it, it’s yours. It was a nice project to keep myself distracted for the past few days.
[his eyes widen when markus offers it as a gift, and with that, so does prompto's smile widen in unbridled joy. it's crazy to think he could be the recipient of something so beautiful, with detail that shows just how hard the other worked on it.]
[he can't wait to bring it home and put it up somewhere. there's something so innocent about prompto loving birds as much as he does, and it shows; he's almost barely hugging the canvas with his arms before he carefully sets it down on the couch diagonal from where he's planning to sit, just so he can look at it while here.]
[this painting has gone to the right hands.]
Thanks, Markus. It's really amazing. I don't know what to say.
[also, very clearly, he's not the recipient of a lot of gifts.]
[his smile remains even as he sits back down and looks for his camera inside his backpack, crossing his legs under himself and getting comfortable. his knees are much better, now, thanks to medicine and creams.]
I'll pay you back with pictures from home! This is my camera. A LOKTON LX-X1R. Noct got it for me a few months before we set off on our trip. ... I'm glad I got it here with me.
[clearly, beyond anything else, there is intimate sentimental value to it.]
[That gratitude is absolutely heart-warming. It’s a degree that he didn’t expect, though he shouldn’t be surprised at Prompto’s eager earnestness. Still, to see someone appreciate the work Markus has employed (even if it’s just a chicken, the brushstrokes are vivid, the canvas itself smelling still of lingering oil paints, color mixing and complimenting, his own style so very obviously ingrained in the piece) wrenches warmly at his insides, makes him feel an amount of pride that he keeps to himself, shown only in brighter eyes and a more grateful smile.
Such is his mood when he makes a move to sit down — slowly, carefully, pain throbbing across his middle — and finally sinking into the cushion neighboring Prompto’s.]
I am, too. I’m sure it’s important to you, and like… a piece of home, come to visit.
[Sentiment, with the potential of melancholy. But a way to ease homesickness, lost in memories, too.]
[without much thought to it, prompto scoots a little closer towards markus as the camera comes to live, the screen turning on and prompto immediately pushing at buttons to interact with the interface. this kind of manual work is so different in contrast to everything else in this world.]
That's a nice way to say it. --anyway, I got a bit over a hundred? I just checked the first five just to make sure they were there!
[pushing the camera towards markus, he starts: there's a selfie of himself, initially.]
They might not be in order but this one was definitely a practice shot. This was out in the open somewhere in Duscae, I think, I can't be sure.
[he offers the camera, in case markus wishes to operate it while prompto adds random commentary]
[It’s not so unusual to Markus, who comes from a technologically advanced future, but not so far beyond the use of manually navigating a camera’s interface. The photos that crop up on the screen are surprising to him, bright and vibrant, of places and creatures that he doesn’t recognize. Faces here that he does.
The android leans closer, brow furrowed in eager curiosity, but Prompto offers the camera to him and he takes it willingly — if not gingerly, like holding onto some precious, invaluable relic. The photos flicker by as he goes through them, one by one.]
These are wonderful; your world is beautiful. [Breathed out, like it’s so obvious that it doesn’t need reiterating. And then—]
Well. Mostly so. [He stops at this one. NOCTIS…..] Dangerous, too, apparently.
[prompto grins at that, knowing with barely a glance what picture markus is talking about.]
Yeah. Nothing we can't handle, though. Noct's magic lets him warp out of situations like that, so he barely suffered any kind of physical trauma for it.
Besides, we've had worse.
[which isn't untrue.]
[he's almost vibrating on the spot, expecting more feedback...]
Lucis is beautiful. After this concrete jungle, I really miss the open world from outside the walls.
[Smiling, he flips through a few more, and lands on one where Noctis has summoned his armiger. It’s unlike anything he’s seen before, brilliant blue and ethereal.]
When you say ‘warp’, what do you mean? Teleport?
[The angle of the shot is particularly impressive, even if Markus doesn’t think this is very indicative of “warping” at all.]
He throws a weapon across and I think his magic creates a connection between it and himself? So he kind of 'follows' after the sword or knife or whatever. We tried a paper ball once and it also worked after he connected it with the Crystal's energy.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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you know what's even more amazing?
it's still got the pictures i took with it on the memory card!
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That is amazing, Prompto.
[What he would give for just a few pictures of home, of faces he knows and remembers.]
Can I still see them sometime? When it’s convenient for you.
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noct told me you got injured so i wanted to catch up with you if you're up for it?!
bet a bunch of ppl are "checking up on you" right lol
i can go anywhere you need me to be
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[Even if Markus will say a hundred times over that the fussing is unnecessary...]
I'm to curious to not be up to it. Why don't you swing by? I have something for you, anyway.
[Pre-emptively, Markus sends the location of the android apartment, coupled with the room number; a small complex suited for those with lower incomes, third floor. Nothing fancy, but he gets to meet the roomba and the arena battle bot if he pays Markus a visit.]
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for me?! oh man! oh maannnnnnn i wonder what it could be!
[he's already forgotten]
although get ready to WITNESS A CHOCOBO
i'll be there in about twenty mins! don't move!!
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Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere if you promise to show me a chocobo. See you soon.
[And to his word, he waits!]
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[that's all he sends before he's following the map, making his way to the androids's apartment and marveling at the fact that hey -- this is where noctis would go to when he needs a break from things. and what's better about that knowledge? it doesn't bother him, with needless feelings of uselessness or jealousy. it's good that noctis has a place where he can breathe easy when things from home start getting real bad. and he can't blame his best friend, either, if just being together constantly reminds him that he's going to have to give it all up.]
[sniffling valiantly, he rings on the doorbell.]
[no time for such thoughts.]
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Or rather, when the door slides open after Markus offers it a verbal command, revealing the sight of the android making his way down the stout corridor to greet him — his gait a little slower than usual, but he stands as tall and straight-backed as before. Likely out of stubbornness.]
Prompto, come in.
[-he says, smiling. In the background, where the living room opens up, a little black roomba vacuum-zooms by.]
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[nevertheless, in he goes once the door gives him room to (he doesn't wait for it to slide open all the way, rather scooting in with minimal effort and probably as expected. he's excited but he's also full of energy that doesn't let him stand around to wait patiently for things to move, clearly.]
Markus, hey! You look like you're not a fan of house arres--
[he's grinning -- and soon that grin goes slack into a surprised expression, before he's smiling excitedly at the sight behind markus.]
Ohmygods! Who's that little feller?!
[the zooming roomba...]
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And Markus is certainly not a fan of house arrest. Being home is an improvement over the safehouse (too many who've lost, too much stress, too much sorrow, so much blood during those first days still staining the clothes of those getting no sleep, no rest), but he still grows restless. Wants to move, wants to slink across the city, wants to play piano, wants to put brush to canvas. He's patient with others, but less patient with himself and his own body.
Having company over helps, at least.
He grin slides into something wider, turning to look behind him. They've just missed the little roomba as it zips around the corner in a gentle arc.]
That's Bernard. He's a... small vacuum robot. [He gestures for Prompto to follow him down the hall and into the open living room. It's neat, organized, almost looking like a model home -- if not for the paintings adorning the wall, all in a similar style, but of different colors and subjects. Markus' artistic hand, adding character to their living space.] Noctis gave him to us. Wait a moment and I'm sure he'll come back around this way soon.
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[prompto's strides into the home are purposeful, completely missing out on the decor as he grips the straps of his bag tight and follows markus, looking around the corner to see if he can spot "bernard."]
[he can hear the soothing whirring of the wheels, and his smile is just so much right now.]
My favorite thing about the future is the robots.
[there's no intent to -- injure with insult, regarding the issue of robots or androids. prompto knows there's a vehement difference between the two and, regardless, he's quite aware that both are deserving of some respect to being alive. human or not, souls or not, for prompto? robots are a blessed addition to his cyberpunk life. it'd be shamefully hypocritical of himself to think otherwise.]
[turning to markus, he's beaming at the man, and locks a pat on his shoulder.]
How's it been, dude! It's great to see you again. It feels like a while.
[the camera? on his backpack, of course.]
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You're mechanically-minded. That isn't very surprising, and the technology here must be constantly fascinating to you. You and the man who created me would've had a lot to talk about.
[He gestures at the couch if Prompto wants to sit down or put his things aside.]
Wait here a second and let me fetch something for you.
[Markus crosses the short distance to the balcony connected to the main living area, stepping out into the sun, disappearing behind an area obscured by the wall.
In the meanwhile, the faint hovering noises encroach. If Prompto peeks down the hallway again, Bernard can be seen approaching down the length of the corridor and swerving next to the couch, bumping up against the young man's shoe.]
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[they talked about carl before, but prompto knows that carl isn't markus's "maker" but a father figure. he wonders what the man is like, for a fraction of a second, and catches a glimpse of his own face on a reflective surface, envisioning instead verstael besithia -- the worst of intentions, a deluded sense of grandeur, the blood of hundreds on his hands.]
[prompto waits in his own anxious thoughts and momentary fretting--hands tightening over fingers and curling in and out--left alone, but the sight of an approaching bernard bumping against his shoes brings a smile to his face. he sinks down to a squat, presses a palm against the surface of the roomba.]
Hey there, Bernie. My shoes are dirty, huh?
[he wonder if it understands his words, but since there's no form of outward communication, prompto can't tell.]
[instead, he sits himself down on the couch and lifts his feet, laces dangling downwards from his sloppy tying, allowing bernard to vaccuum where he was standing a second before.]
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[Markus comes back in, fingers curled beneath the back edges of a large, fully painted canvas. One hand lags behind him to slide the balcony doors shut with a click, temporarily distracted by the sight of Prompto and his legs kicked up in the air, allowing Bernard to vacuum beneath him. And when he continues, his words have the soft lilt of a repressed laugh living behind them.]
—the man who oversaw my own personal creation. And he was a good friend of Carl’s.
[Simple enough to infer that this was how Markus ended up caring for Carl. And how he ended up in Carl’s care.
Markus moves close, just stopping short of where Bernard diligently cleans back and forth, and flips the canvas around to reveal the painted side. It’s a chicken; done in a style that matches the art placed here and there along the apartment walls.]
Want to take a guess at what this is?
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He's got a cool name.
[elijah kamski just has a nice sound to it.]
[whatever else prompto might want to say about that is left to flounder, mouth opening and eyebrows creasing into a frown, as if trying to figure out what markus is holding. it's a canvas, obviously, but his brain is slowly making a connection with what it is and something prompto had asked for, weeks ago.]
[turned around, his expression gives way to one of exaggerated surprise (although it's never exaggerated in the meanest sense), pointing at it.]
Is that a chicken? It's a chicken, isn't it! It looks just like a cockatrice!
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Still, unaware of how the name seems to stick with Prompto, his grin reaches his eyes at the other’s reaction. Bernard’s done vacuuming around the front of the couch, and swivels around its corner to take care of the back.]
It is. A male chicken; a rooster. I might’ve taken a few liberties with the colors, but generally this is what you’ll find if you match it with what exists online.
[Because honestly, Prompto could’ve just future-googled it.]
Take it, it’s yours. It was a nice project to keep myself distracted for the past few days.
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[he can't wait to bring it home and put it up somewhere. there's something so innocent about prompto loving birds as much as he does, and it shows; he's almost barely hugging the canvas with his arms before he carefully sets it down on the couch diagonal from where he's planning to sit, just so he can look at it while here.]
[this painting has gone to the right hands.]
Thanks, Markus. It's really amazing. I don't know what to say.
[also, very clearly, he's not the recipient of a lot of gifts.]
[his smile remains even as he sits back down and looks for his camera inside his backpack, crossing his legs under himself and getting comfortable. his knees are much better, now, thanks to medicine and creams.]
I'll pay you back with pictures from home! This is my camera. A LOKTON LX-X1R. Noct got it for me a few months before we set off on our trip. ... I'm glad I got it here with me.
[clearly, beyond anything else, there is intimate sentimental value to it.]
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Such is his mood when he makes a move to sit down — slowly, carefully, pain throbbing across his middle — and finally sinking into the cushion neighboring Prompto’s.]
I am, too. I’m sure it’s important to you, and like… a piece of home, come to visit.
[Sentiment, with the potential of melancholy. But a way to ease homesickness, lost in memories, too.]
Let’s take a look. How many are there?
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That's a nice way to say it. --anyway, I got a bit over a hundred? I just checked the first five just to make sure they were there!
[pushing the camera towards markus, he starts: there's a selfie of himself, initially.]
They might not be in order but this one was definitely a practice shot. This was out in the open somewhere in Duscae, I think, I can't be sure.
[he offers the camera, in case markus wishes to operate it while prompto adds random commentary]
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The android leans closer, brow furrowed in eager curiosity, but Prompto offers the camera to him and he takes it willingly — if not gingerly, like holding onto some precious, invaluable relic. The photos flicker by as he goes through them, one by one.]
These are wonderful; your world is beautiful. [Breathed out, like it’s so obvious that it doesn’t need reiterating. And then—]
Well. Mostly so. [He stops at this one. NOCTIS…..] Dangerous, too, apparently.
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Yeah. Nothing we can't handle, though. Noct's magic lets him warp out of situations like that, so he barely suffered any kind of physical trauma for it.
Besides, we've had worse.
[which isn't untrue.]
[he's almost vibrating on the spot, expecting more feedback...]
Lucis is beautiful. After this concrete jungle, I really miss the open world from outside the walls.
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When you say ‘warp’, what do you mean? Teleport?
[The angle of the shot is particularly impressive, even if Markus doesn’t think this is very indicative of “warping” at all.]
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He throws a weapon across and I think his magic creates a connection between it and himself? So he kind of 'follows' after the sword or knife or whatever. We tried a paper ball once and it also worked after he connected it with the Crystal's energy.
[he's leaning back on the couch, stretching out]
He can do it while dodging, too.