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un: chocobro ( text )

[ it's early the next morning when prompto slips onto the network. he really needs to be more proactive about making friends and doing things to cheer people up. so!! ]

happy new year everybody 🎉
not sure if you celebrated or whatever but hope it was good regardless

anyway!!!

what kinda stuff is everyone looking forward to?
like resolutions and things i guess??
never really thought about it too much before but i dunno
feels kinda weird to want good things when part of me just wants to go home haha

if anyone's looking to hang out or whatever tho i'm around
or i guess if you wanna learn how to shoot or take pics i'm your guy

could find something fun to do and make it a real party 🥳

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[ sorry, what???? ]

How they – [ prompto stops, phone gripped tight in his hand. ] What do you mean? Like, there were people here before we showed up? The ones who probably lived in all these places?

[ that just sounds awful and makes him feel... well, weird. sick almost? something. ]

[ Robby stops after Prompto does, looking back--and realising Prompto doesn't know. And that-- that makes sense, right? Though it confuses him briefly, how much this has been consuming him the past month. ]

No... we're not the first one this's happened to, [ he explains. ] We're the fiftieth -- it's been going on for years. Nearly a hundred.

[ his first thought is that robby isn't being honest with him. like, why??? and that's quickly overwritten by the very obvious: no one would make something like that up. right? he doesn't think so, and he trusts robby enough to know he's only telling him to help him. but it just makes him feel...

not good.

so not good that he has to take a second and sit down on a nearby curb despite how cold the ground is. ]

Do you know why?

[ the question is quiet, like he's struggling to put it all together without having a freak out. ]

[ He doesn't know if he regrets this. It's difficult; if this was really the best time for this, or if there was never going to be such a time. Robby rubs a hand over his mouth as Prompto goes to sit on that curb, his hands off the cart. Quiet at first, but then he takes a step over. ]

...Not really. [ And he lowers, to take a seat beside him. Knees up, arms draped over them so he can rub his hands together this time. His own voice a note lower. ] We found out last month. But this place is fucked up, and-- they have a lotta control over us. If we can't find a way to change or stop it, it'll keep going. 'Til they're satisfied.

[ He's not looking at Prompto but at his hands, the white cloud of his breath. Remembering the room of photographs, the crazed sounds of conflict mingling with a stereo playing joyful music.

Isn't it more wrong to keep downplaying what can happen to them? What's happened, what will happen, if this goes on? ]

[ there will never be a good time for learning things like this. he sits there absorbing the information and conscious of the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that sinks lower and lower, legs outstretched and his fingers still gripping tightly to his phone. he should put it away, but he can't really move.

it makes sense, doesn't it? why whoever's behind this would have chosen him to arrive first and be alone for months without seeing anyone from his world. because he's not anyone important. he doesn't matter.

he's just... ]

I figured stuff wasn't right, you know? Just 'cuz of the way things are, but... [ prompto had never imagined this. ] Why's no one talking about it? Or, I dunno, tryin' to find a way to leave? Feels like this shouldn't be happening.

[ maybe people have done those things, and he's just been in denial too long. ]

Shouldn't be, but doing something's easier said than done.

[ That's the problem, the biggest issue--what the fuck do you do? He looks up from his hands and around their environment. The buildings, the asphalt. There's no fog around, but somewhere else there is, and Robby feels it without seeing it. ]

People've been trying to get through the parts of the city that make you turn around since I've been here. No one likes to talk about it on the network 'cause they don't want the people doing this knowing what they're planning so easy--but they'll find out anyway, even if you don't use it. Seems like the case anyway, [ he admits, rubbing his hands again.

Sure as hell didn't stop the rebel party from getting fucked up. ]

I don't know what the hell we can do. 'Cept sit and wait and hope someone comes up with a better idea that isn't throwing shit at the walls.

Yeah...

[ it's a dejected sort of sound, acknowledging everything robby's said. what else can they do? he's felt restless for days, weeks. it's partially why he'd sort of let a whole month go by without really paying attention to anything, and now... was there a point to any of this? ]

I'm sure we'll think of something. Right? I guess as long as everybody tries to talk to each other somehow.

[ and it's then that he finally sets his phone down so he can reach out and take one of robby's hands. he's not thinking about it as he gently tries to rub some warmth into his fingers. his are cold too, but it's a gesture he needs, mostly just a way to center himself and remind himself that he's there with someone else and not alone. ]

[ He would give some kind of agreement painted as reassurance, if not for his lagging mind that sticks particularly to the thought of everyone talking to each other, and then the more distracting part: the hand that takes his. Robby sees if from in his periphery, and he glances at Prompto, his confusion brief; because he understands what's going on, and he eases the expression on his face. ]

Sorry for the shitty news.

[ If only there was better to offer. ]

[ he's always been a touchy-feely sort of person, and maybe that's not exactly usual for some. but prompto doesn't know any other way to be, wishing he could somehow make this entire situation better. it probably goes on a little longer than necessary, though he eventually gives robby's hand a squeeze before letting it go and shoving his hands into his pockets.

just swallow it down. he's used to this. ]

Not your fault. At least I found out the nice way.

[ his smile is slight, trying to lighten the mood. ]

[ He tucks his hands back together when Prompto lets his one go, first where they had been, and then closer to his stomach, as if to protect the effort he put into trying to warm it.

Robby sucks in a breath, then lets it go. ]

Cheesy as it sounds, you're not alone. I can tell you more, but...we're not going anywhere, whether we like it or not. We need ways to distract ourselves.

[ And, given the circumstances-- ] Is making some explosions a good distraction, or do you want something else?

[ He's trying to be positive, to offer it. They can do whatever Prompto wants, if the mood has been ruined. ]

[ he appreciates the attempt. he really does. it's nice to know that there are some things he doesn't have to struggle through on his own, and as much as he doesn't want to burden someone else with his problems, it's comforting to have someone next to him.

even if they're stuck together without much choice. ]

Guess you're right. [ prompto makes an effort to pull himself together, glancing past robby towards their cart. ] Wanna keep shopping and then get something to eat? Maybe we can come up with a loose plan of what to throw together while we do that.

[ he pauses then, looking back at robby. there's a weird sort of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. ] Unless you wanna do something else?

[ If Prompto's getting up at all, Robby will too; but regardless, he feigns dramatics with the thoughtful look and its pouting lower lip for the moment he makes the face. Does he wanna do something else? ]

Nope, sounds good to me. I'll show you where that music shop is later if we have to ditch the fireworks. Dunno if anyone's ever tried making bombs before. I know this place doesn't even have baseball bats.

[ And with how absent weapons are, Robby wonders if there's any particular core ingredients that could be missing. Prompto might know. But then, would anyone have tried to make them before now?

...Probably. That's his guess on the kind of people around here. ]

[ he'll eventually get up, shaking out his legs because the ground is cold. ]

Cool. Let's go find that grocery store first and take it from there.

[ which, admittedly, feels strange to him to lead, but they're sort of in this together now. so. why not? he lets robby push the cart, if he's feeling up to it, and prompto keeps a steady aim towards one of the stores he knows is around. as they walk, he ponders robby's mention of making bombs. ]

I'd noticed that too. The only way to know is to ask, and if nobody wants to talk over that network... [ he shrugs. ] I guess we'll find out if it works or not. [ because anything could be used as a weapon if you were creative enough! right? ] Hey, Robby.

[ he frowns to himself and then shakes his head. might as well get it out before he loses his nerve. ] D'you think they might really send someone to kill us?

[ Robby will take the cart--he doesn't mind it. There's some resistance to it, but it doesn't bother him, even if the idea of making bombs has been sidetracked some by the reveal he just blew up on Prompto's day already.

But maybe their talk can be casual, he thinks. Casual enough. And it seems to lead that way, with some remark about network talking on his mind--it's a pain in the ass, he knows--but then Prompto says what he does, and. The cart gets stuck for a second, stops Robby, who looks at Prompto and then down at the packaging before him, his lips pressing tightly because he knows the answer, but-- ]

If we don't give them the results they want. [ It takes a few seconds for him to respond, plain-voiced. The thought of death doesn't really please him, but sometimes, it's easier to talk about than others; sometimes, he doesn't think about himself dying. Unlike now, feeling vunerable, knowing it's in their future and waiting to happen. But that's the situation they're in, isn't it?

But if he's being honest, though it doesn't really make him feel that great... ] Then they'll start again, with other people. Um-- We think they reuse people, you know? How people come back after dying here. But they still end it with killing everyone. No one knows if they have to.

[ Just that they do. ]

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