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}
no subject
[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?
no subject
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!
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
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]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.