Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2018-11-28 07:25 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2018-11-28 07:25 pm
Fanfiction: Flash (Red Dead Redemption/Final Fantasy XV)
Here is the problem with my attempt to write every day of every November: I end up writing every stupid fic idea that crosses my mind.
Title: Flash
Fandom: Red Dead Redemption II/Final Fantasy XV
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2,300
Summary: Arthur Morgan encounters a young man named Prompto and makes the regrettable decision to bring him to camp.
Picked up an odd young fella outside Rhodes, name of Pronto or something. Strange name, stranger clothes. He was being threatened by thieves (not us). In gratitude he offered to be our photographer.
He uses a new sort of camera that captures life perfectly as it is, colors and all. I am half inclined to think it witchcraft. His gun is strange as well; he asked where he might find ammunition for it, and I took him to the gunsmith, but the gunsmith only became confused and excited to see it.
Pronto seems unhappy with our work, but not unhappy enough to leave. What keeps him here? Maybe ignorance alone; he seems to know nothing of the world and evidently realizes we can offer him protection. Or it may be the people; he seems very taken with half of the women in camp and I suspect some of the men also.
He seems very fond of the horses. On that point, at least, we can understand each other.
-
When this strange world he’s ended up in gets too overwhelming, which, if he’s honest, is all the time, Prompto will head over to the horses and press his face into each of their manes in turn. They’re something good about this place, they’re something perfect. If he figures out a way to get home, he’s going to miss them.
Still hasn’t seen any chocobos, though.
“Pronto!” Arthur calls.
Prompto jerks his face guiltily away from the neck of Arthur’s horse. “Prompto.”
“Whatever. You know, I’m gonna expect payment if you want to take her to bed.”
Prompto flushes, taking a few quick steps back from the horse. “Uh, did you... did you want me for something?”
“Honest work, if you can believe it,” Arthur says. “Gonna make some money with your witch’s camera.”
Prompto clutches his camera to his chest. “You can’t sell it.”
“Ain’t asking you to do that. Just take some pictures of folks. Probably pay good money to see themselves frozen in time like that thing does.” Arthur shakes his head. “I think it’s evil, but what do I know?”
“It’s not evil,” Prompto says. “I promise. It’s just a camera.”
“Don’t mean much bad by it. We’re all evil here. Just don’t point it at me.”
“You’re sure?” Prompto asks. He really wants some pictures of Arthur. He just... he looks pretty cool. Stubble works well on him. Prompto’s always kind of wanted to go for facial hair himself, never been sure whether he could pull it off.
“I’m sure,” Arthur says. “We doing this or what?”
Prompto’s not sure. He’s only got so much ink in the inbuilt printer, and he definitely doesn’t know where to resupply it. But he’ll still be able to look at his pictures on the screen. And at least his camera has backup solar power, so he doesn’t have to worry too much about the moment the batteries run down.
And the people he’s ended up with are... kind of scary, so it might not be a bad idea to help them out.
-
His name is PROMPTO, apparently. Still sounds Spanish, but he don’t look it.
Got him to take some photographs of folks in Rhodes for cash. He didn’t seem too thrilled by the idea when he heard it. Seemed to enjoy himself when he was out there taking the pictures, though.
It ain’t just me – no one’s seen a camera like it. Says he can’t remember where he bought it. Somehow I doubt that. I’d remember a shop that sold me magic.
He begged me for a picture, and I gave in in the end, so I guess now my soul (or what’s left of it) lives in that thing around his neck.
-
Arthur’s never been fond of watch duty. Too much standing in one place, he starts itching to ride out and shoot something. Not dull enough to make him wish someone’d intrude on the camp, but it’s not far off.
Hoofbeats amongst the trees.
“Who’s there?” he calls.
“No one in particular,” the rider calls back. No one from the gang; sounds English.
Arthur puts a hand on his revolver. “Assume I’m interested.”
The rider comes into view. Arthur’ll normally register the horse before the man, but this particular man has one hell of a thing on his head.
“Ain’t a normal way to use pomade, friend,” Arthur says.
“So I’ve been told,” the stranger says.
“Not the strangest use I’ve seen of late,” Arthur concedes. Prompto’s hair is a sight to behold. “What business you got around here?”
“Forgive me for intruding.” Jesus, but this man screams civilization so loud it’s making Arthur feel dirty just to look at him. “I heard you might know a photographer.”
“Think that hair’s worth preserving, do you?” Arthur asks. “Who told you?”
“His work’s made quite a stir in Rhodes.”
“Uh-huh. And who told you you’d find him here?”
The man hesitates.
“We ain’t been advertising our location.” Arthur unholsters his revolver, casually. “You followed us back here? Sure you’re just looking for a photograph?”
“I have no intention of causing trouble.”
“I ain’t got no intention of shitting out breakfast,” Arthur says, “but it’s gonna happen anyway.”
“I think your photographer may be a friend of mine,” the man says. “Does he go by Prompto?”
Arthur considers him for a moment. Prompto ain’t a bad kid. Probably shouldn’t go shooting his friends without exploring other options.
“Off your horse,” he says, gesturing with the barrel of his gun. “He recognises you, great, the stupid hair club’s back together. Your story don’t hold up, you’re ending up at the bottom of the lake.”
-
“Ignis!” Prompto scrambles up from one of the crates around the fire. “Holy crap, is it really you? Wait, I’ve gotta—” He brings his camera up to his eyes, then lowers it, frowning. “Hey, uh, you think you could... put your gun away before I take this shot?”
“Very subtle,” Arthur says. “I don’t suspect a thing.” But he holsters it anyway. Apparently the intruder was telling the truth; there’s no doubt Prompto knows him.
What did Prompto call him? Ignis? Where the hell’d these two come from?
“I’m glad to see you’re well,” Ignis says.
Prompto grins, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, it was sometimes a pretty close – wait, do you know if Noct’s around? Gladio? Did they end up here too?”
“You’re making these names up,” Arthur says.
“Right, because Arthur Morgan’s so normal,” Prompto says, and then, while Arthur’s still trying to get his head around that, “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean it. Your name’s fine.”
“I’ve been looking for them myself,” Ignis says. “I was hoping you might have had word.”
“Oh,” Prompto says, his shoulders falling. “Oh, man, but it’s so great to see you. You don’t know how much I’ve missed your cooking.”
“Don’t let Pearson hear you say that,” Arthur says. “You can cook?”
“I like to believe so,” Ignis says.
“Huh,” Arthur says. “Good thing I didn’t shoot you, I guess.”
-
Prompto and Ignis are sharing a tent, one of the basic ones they’ve had lying around since the rest of the camp got upgraded. They’ve made no complaints. For all of Ignis’s fancy airs, it seems he’s used to camping.
Prompto’s decorated the space with his photographs: some of people in the gang (a couple of Arthur, like looking into a goddamn frozen mirror; he’s not sure if he should be flattered), but mostly they’re shots of Prompto himself and Ignis and a couple others, all dressed like circus acts.
“So what’re these pictures you’ve got up here?” Arthur asks.
“Oh, yeah, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to take a look,” Prompto says. “These are my friends. If you could maybe not shoot them if you see them, that’d be super great.”
Arthur squints at one of the photographs. He’ll never get used to these, so sharp and clear and coloured so true to life it’s like the people in them are standing right here. “This one some kind of theatre performer?”
“Gladio?” Prompto asks, with a laugh. “Why d’you say that?”
“He’s got a sword,” Arthur says. “Big as he is. And he don’t look a small man.”
“Yeah, not a performer. He just fights with a sword.”
“With a sword?” Arthur echoes. “No, he don’t. In this day and age?”
“Wait,” Prompto says. “Wait, I figured you guys were big on guns, but no one uses swords here?”
“What do you mean, here? What’s this place you come from, where you have a gun and your friend has a sword and you go out killing together? Who needs swords in a world with guns?”
“I don’t know. Some people just... prefer swords.”
“If they do, they don’t live long,” Arthur says.
“You’ve seen Iggy fight, right?”
“With a sword?” Arthur asks. “You’re telling me you’ve brought some medieval knight into the fold?”
“Not a sword,” Prompto says. “Not technically. Daggers. Technically. I’m just saying he doesn’t use guns.”
“Jesus,” Arthur says. “Ain’t you got any normal friends?”
Prompto hesitates. “Uh, do you count?”
“As normal, or as your friend?” Arthur asks. “Not sure I’m neither.”
-
“Seems to me you’ve adopted more young men every time I turn my head,” Hosea says.
“They’ll earn their keep,” Arthur says. “You tasted Ignis’s cooking?”
Just as well Ignis is skilled in that area; it’s not like they can use him as a gun. Daggers, for Christ’s sake.
“Oh, I don’t mean to complain,” Hosea says. “Prompto’s of great help with the horses.”
“Think he’d groom the hair clean off them if we didn’t tell him where to stop,” Arthur says. “You know he acted like he’d never seen horses before when we picked him up?”
“Yes,” Hosea says. “Yes, they are a little odd, aren’t they? Then again, aren’t we all?”
-
“Arthur, a word?”
“What are you, half my age?” Arthur asks. “Don’t talk to me like you’re my mother.”
“My apologies,” Ignis says. “I wondered whether I might request your assistance.”
“And what d’you need my assistance with?”
“You may have gleaned that Prompto and I aren’t from around here.”
“You’re joking,” Arthur says. “You’ve been blending in so fine I can’t even see you in front of me.”
“I was planning to search the place we arrived, in the hope of finding some passage back,” Ignis says. “But I thought we might need someone who knows the lie of the land.”
“Someone who can shoot, you mean.” Technically, Prompto can shoot; he just doesn’t want to, not when there are people involved. He can take down a cougar just fine, but he’s no use in a shootout. “If you’re walking away from the gang, tell me why I shouldn’t just leave you to get yourselves killed.”
“You could keep our horses. I doubt they’ll be accompanying us.”
“I could feed you to wolves and get the same effect.”
“We’d be very grateful,” Ignis says.
Arthur thrusts his hands into his pockets and looks up at the sky and lets out a heavy breath. “Fine.”
-
“Huh,” Noct says. “Yeah, that sounds a lot like that time I met Sarah. It’s weird, right?”
“Super weird,” Prompto says. “I swear I’ll never doubt your I-got-kicked-into-another-universe stories again.”
Noct raises his eyebrows. “Never doubt them again, huh? I thought you said you believed me.”
“Hey, that’s what friends do, right?” Prompto asks. “They lie to each other. Because they care.”
“Still think you’ve all lost it,” Gladio mutters.
“Oh, yeah?” Prompto asks. “Then explain him.”
“What, the guy you put in fancy dress?”
“Fancy dress,” Arthur says, with a snort. “That’s rich.” All four of them are wearing God knows what.
“Explain the horses,” Prompto says. “You think these incredible things just existed all along and none of us knew about them?”
Gladio folds his oversized arms. “Right, ’cause it’s more likely you went to a different world. They’re some kind of mutant mesmenir.”
“Sounds like you’ve been through this before,” Arthur says. “You got any idea about getting back?” He’s addressing Noct. He thinks he’s called Noct, at least. Prompto yelled ‘Noct!’ and flung himself into his arms the moment they saw him. Ignis called him Highness, and Arthur’s not sure he wants to know what’s going on there.
“You know how you got here?” Noct asks. “Weird portal? Magical light?”
“Magical light sounds about right.”
“Okay,” Noct says. “Getting back’s probably pretty much the same.”
“Right,” Arthur says. “You know where I could find some of this magical light?”
Noct hesitates.
Great.
-
Ignis asked for my help in seeking a way back to their home country, and like a fool I agreed. I thought they needed passage on a boat and could not understand why he led us to a forest. I am not sure any boat could take them to these shores, or me back.
He took us toward a strange light in the forest, and suddenly it swallowed us all up, horses and Arthur Morgans and all.
Whatever this place is we’ve ended up in, it don’t make no sense. Horseless carriages everywhere, huge animals I ain’t never seen before. There’s a man they say is a prince and I swear to anyone listening he can throw fire and make weapons appear in his hands. I do not like it and I do not trust it.
Hoping I can get back home if Ignis and Prompto were able to get there, but I keep going back where we showed up and that light keeps not being there. Becoming a bodyguard to royalty has never been in my plans, but it’s starting to look like I have precious few options.
I ain’t helping any more goddamn folks. It always ends up going wrong or stupid.
Title: Flash
Fandom: Red Dead Redemption II/Final Fantasy XV
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2,300
Summary: Arthur Morgan encounters a young man named Prompto and makes the regrettable decision to bring him to camp.
Picked up an odd young fella outside Rhodes, name of Pronto or something. Strange name, stranger clothes. He was being threatened by thieves (not us). In gratitude he offered to be our photographer.
He uses a new sort of camera that captures life perfectly as it is, colors and all. I am half inclined to think it witchcraft. His gun is strange as well; he asked where he might find ammunition for it, and I took him to the gunsmith, but the gunsmith only became confused and excited to see it.
Pronto seems unhappy with our work, but not unhappy enough to leave. What keeps him here? Maybe ignorance alone; he seems to know nothing of the world and evidently realizes we can offer him protection. Or it may be the people; he seems very taken with half of the women in camp and I suspect some of the men also.
He seems very fond of the horses. On that point, at least, we can understand each other.
When this strange world he’s ended up in gets too overwhelming, which, if he’s honest, is all the time, Prompto will head over to the horses and press his face into each of their manes in turn. They’re something good about this place, they’re something perfect. If he figures out a way to get home, he’s going to miss them.
Still hasn’t seen any chocobos, though.
“Pronto!” Arthur calls.
Prompto jerks his face guiltily away from the neck of Arthur’s horse. “Prompto.”
“Whatever. You know, I’m gonna expect payment if you want to take her to bed.”
Prompto flushes, taking a few quick steps back from the horse. “Uh, did you... did you want me for something?”
“Honest work, if you can believe it,” Arthur says. “Gonna make some money with your witch’s camera.”
Prompto clutches his camera to his chest. “You can’t sell it.”
“Ain’t asking you to do that. Just take some pictures of folks. Probably pay good money to see themselves frozen in time like that thing does.” Arthur shakes his head. “I think it’s evil, but what do I know?”
“It’s not evil,” Prompto says. “I promise. It’s just a camera.”
“Don’t mean much bad by it. We’re all evil here. Just don’t point it at me.”
“You’re sure?” Prompto asks. He really wants some pictures of Arthur. He just... he looks pretty cool. Stubble works well on him. Prompto’s always kind of wanted to go for facial hair himself, never been sure whether he could pull it off.
“I’m sure,” Arthur says. “We doing this or what?”
Prompto’s not sure. He’s only got so much ink in the inbuilt printer, and he definitely doesn’t know where to resupply it. But he’ll still be able to look at his pictures on the screen. And at least his camera has backup solar power, so he doesn’t have to worry too much about the moment the batteries run down.
And the people he’s ended up with are... kind of scary, so it might not be a bad idea to help them out.
His name is PROMPTO, apparently. Still sounds Spanish, but he don’t look it.
Got him to take some photographs of folks in Rhodes for cash. He didn’t seem too thrilled by the idea when he heard it. Seemed to enjoy himself when he was out there taking the pictures, though.
It ain’t just me – no one’s seen a camera like it. Says he can’t remember where he bought it. Somehow I doubt that. I’d remember a shop that sold me magic.
He begged me for a picture, and I gave in in the end, so I guess now my soul (or what’s left of it) lives in that thing around his neck.
Arthur’s never been fond of watch duty. Too much standing in one place, he starts itching to ride out and shoot something. Not dull enough to make him wish someone’d intrude on the camp, but it’s not far off.
Hoofbeats amongst the trees.
“Who’s there?” he calls.
“No one in particular,” the rider calls back. No one from the gang; sounds English.
Arthur puts a hand on his revolver. “Assume I’m interested.”
The rider comes into view. Arthur’ll normally register the horse before the man, but this particular man has one hell of a thing on his head.
“Ain’t a normal way to use pomade, friend,” Arthur says.
“So I’ve been told,” the stranger says.
“Not the strangest use I’ve seen of late,” Arthur concedes. Prompto’s hair is a sight to behold. “What business you got around here?”
“Forgive me for intruding.” Jesus, but this man screams civilization so loud it’s making Arthur feel dirty just to look at him. “I heard you might know a photographer.”
“Think that hair’s worth preserving, do you?” Arthur asks. “Who told you?”
“His work’s made quite a stir in Rhodes.”
“Uh-huh. And who told you you’d find him here?”
The man hesitates.
“We ain’t been advertising our location.” Arthur unholsters his revolver, casually. “You followed us back here? Sure you’re just looking for a photograph?”
“I have no intention of causing trouble.”
“I ain’t got no intention of shitting out breakfast,” Arthur says, “but it’s gonna happen anyway.”
“I think your photographer may be a friend of mine,” the man says. “Does he go by Prompto?”
Arthur considers him for a moment. Prompto ain’t a bad kid. Probably shouldn’t go shooting his friends without exploring other options.
“Off your horse,” he says, gesturing with the barrel of his gun. “He recognises you, great, the stupid hair club’s back together. Your story don’t hold up, you’re ending up at the bottom of the lake.”
“Ignis!” Prompto scrambles up from one of the crates around the fire. “Holy crap, is it really you? Wait, I’ve gotta—” He brings his camera up to his eyes, then lowers it, frowning. “Hey, uh, you think you could... put your gun away before I take this shot?”
“Very subtle,” Arthur says. “I don’t suspect a thing.” But he holsters it anyway. Apparently the intruder was telling the truth; there’s no doubt Prompto knows him.
What did Prompto call him? Ignis? Where the hell’d these two come from?
“I’m glad to see you’re well,” Ignis says.
Prompto grins, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, it was sometimes a pretty close – wait, do you know if Noct’s around? Gladio? Did they end up here too?”
“You’re making these names up,” Arthur says.
“Right, because Arthur Morgan’s so normal,” Prompto says, and then, while Arthur’s still trying to get his head around that, “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean it. Your name’s fine.”
“I’ve been looking for them myself,” Ignis says. “I was hoping you might have had word.”
“Oh,” Prompto says, his shoulders falling. “Oh, man, but it’s so great to see you. You don’t know how much I’ve missed your cooking.”
“Don’t let Pearson hear you say that,” Arthur says. “You can cook?”
“I like to believe so,” Ignis says.
“Huh,” Arthur says. “Good thing I didn’t shoot you, I guess.”
Prompto and Ignis are sharing a tent, one of the basic ones they’ve had lying around since the rest of the camp got upgraded. They’ve made no complaints. For all of Ignis’s fancy airs, it seems he’s used to camping.
Prompto’s decorated the space with his photographs: some of people in the gang (a couple of Arthur, like looking into a goddamn frozen mirror; he’s not sure if he should be flattered), but mostly they’re shots of Prompto himself and Ignis and a couple others, all dressed like circus acts.
“So what’re these pictures you’ve got up here?” Arthur asks.
“Oh, yeah, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to take a look,” Prompto says. “These are my friends. If you could maybe not shoot them if you see them, that’d be super great.”
Arthur squints at one of the photographs. He’ll never get used to these, so sharp and clear and coloured so true to life it’s like the people in them are standing right here. “This one some kind of theatre performer?”
“Gladio?” Prompto asks, with a laugh. “Why d’you say that?”
“He’s got a sword,” Arthur says. “Big as he is. And he don’t look a small man.”
“Yeah, not a performer. He just fights with a sword.”
“With a sword?” Arthur echoes. “No, he don’t. In this day and age?”
“Wait,” Prompto says. “Wait, I figured you guys were big on guns, but no one uses swords here?”
“What do you mean, here? What’s this place you come from, where you have a gun and your friend has a sword and you go out killing together? Who needs swords in a world with guns?”
“I don’t know. Some people just... prefer swords.”
“If they do, they don’t live long,” Arthur says.
“You’ve seen Iggy fight, right?”
“With a sword?” Arthur asks. “You’re telling me you’ve brought some medieval knight into the fold?”
“Not a sword,” Prompto says. “Not technically. Daggers. Technically. I’m just saying he doesn’t use guns.”
“Jesus,” Arthur says. “Ain’t you got any normal friends?”
Prompto hesitates. “Uh, do you count?”
“As normal, or as your friend?” Arthur asks. “Not sure I’m neither.”
“Seems to me you’ve adopted more young men every time I turn my head,” Hosea says.
“They’ll earn their keep,” Arthur says. “You tasted Ignis’s cooking?”
Just as well Ignis is skilled in that area; it’s not like they can use him as a gun. Daggers, for Christ’s sake.
“Oh, I don’t mean to complain,” Hosea says. “Prompto’s of great help with the horses.”
“Think he’d groom the hair clean off them if we didn’t tell him where to stop,” Arthur says. “You know he acted like he’d never seen horses before when we picked him up?”
“Yes,” Hosea says. “Yes, they are a little odd, aren’t they? Then again, aren’t we all?”
“Arthur, a word?”
“What are you, half my age?” Arthur asks. “Don’t talk to me like you’re my mother.”
“My apologies,” Ignis says. “I wondered whether I might request your assistance.”
“And what d’you need my assistance with?”
“You may have gleaned that Prompto and I aren’t from around here.”
“You’re joking,” Arthur says. “You’ve been blending in so fine I can’t even see you in front of me.”
“I was planning to search the place we arrived, in the hope of finding some passage back,” Ignis says. “But I thought we might need someone who knows the lie of the land.”
“Someone who can shoot, you mean.” Technically, Prompto can shoot; he just doesn’t want to, not when there are people involved. He can take down a cougar just fine, but he’s no use in a shootout. “If you’re walking away from the gang, tell me why I shouldn’t just leave you to get yourselves killed.”
“You could keep our horses. I doubt they’ll be accompanying us.”
“I could feed you to wolves and get the same effect.”
“We’d be very grateful,” Ignis says.
Arthur thrusts his hands into his pockets and looks up at the sky and lets out a heavy breath. “Fine.”
“Huh,” Noct says. “Yeah, that sounds a lot like that time I met Sarah. It’s weird, right?”
“Super weird,” Prompto says. “I swear I’ll never doubt your I-got-kicked-into-another-universe stories again.”
Noct raises his eyebrows. “Never doubt them again, huh? I thought you said you believed me.”
“Hey, that’s what friends do, right?” Prompto asks. “They lie to each other. Because they care.”
“Still think you’ve all lost it,” Gladio mutters.
“Oh, yeah?” Prompto asks. “Then explain him.”
“What, the guy you put in fancy dress?”
“Fancy dress,” Arthur says, with a snort. “That’s rich.” All four of them are wearing God knows what.
“Explain the horses,” Prompto says. “You think these incredible things just existed all along and none of us knew about them?”
Gladio folds his oversized arms. “Right, ’cause it’s more likely you went to a different world. They’re some kind of mutant mesmenir.”
“Sounds like you’ve been through this before,” Arthur says. “You got any idea about getting back?” He’s addressing Noct. He thinks he’s called Noct, at least. Prompto yelled ‘Noct!’ and flung himself into his arms the moment they saw him. Ignis called him Highness, and Arthur’s not sure he wants to know what’s going on there.
“You know how you got here?” Noct asks. “Weird portal? Magical light?”
“Magical light sounds about right.”
“Okay,” Noct says. “Getting back’s probably pretty much the same.”
“Right,” Arthur says. “You know where I could find some of this magical light?”
Noct hesitates.
Great.
Ignis asked for my help in seeking a way back to their home country, and like a fool I agreed. I thought they needed passage on a boat and could not understand why he led us to a forest. I am not sure any boat could take them to these shores, or me back.
He took us toward a strange light in the forest, and suddenly it swallowed us all up, horses and Arthur Morgans and all.
Whatever this place is we’ve ended up in, it don’t make no sense. Horseless carriages everywhere, huge animals I ain’t never seen before. There’s a man they say is a prince and I swear to anyone listening he can throw fire and make weapons appear in his hands. I do not like it and I do not trust it.
Hoping I can get back home if Ignis and Prompto were able to get there, but I keep going back where we showed up and that light keeps not being there. Becoming a bodyguard to royalty has never been in my plans, but it’s starting to look like I have precious few options.
I ain’t helping any more goddamn folks. It always ends up going wrong or stupid.
no subject
I fail to see the downside.
He was being threatened by thieves (not us).
Cute line!
He seems very fond of the horses. On that point, at least, we can understand each other.
Aw, Arthur!
When this strange world he’s ended up in gets too overwhelming, which, if he’s honest, is all the time, Prompto will head over to the horses and press his face into each of their manes in turn. They’re something good about this place, they’re something perfect.
Aw Prompto!
“You’re sure?” Prompto asks. He really wants some pictures of Arthur. He just... he looks pretty cool. Stubble works well on him.
I like this!
He begged me for a picture, and I gave in in the end, so I guess now my soul (or what’s left of it) lives in that thing around his neck.
I love this. It says so much about Arthur! (You really have the style!)
The rider comes into view. Arthur’ll normally register the horse before the man, but this particular man has one hell of a thing on his head.
This got me to look up a picture of Ignis, and...yep, I can totally see Arthur reacting that way.
“I have no intention of causing trouble.”
“I ain’t got no intention of shitting out breakfast,” Arthur says, “but it’s gonna happen anyway.”
Was that last bit from the game, or did you come up with it? It's amazing!
“Off your horse,” he says, gesturing with the barrel of his gun. “He recognises you, great, the stupid hair club’s back together. Your story don’t hold up, you’re ending up at the bottom of the lake.”
I love how Arthur talks in this!
“Right, because Arthur Morgan’s so normal,” Prompto says, and then, while Arthur’s still trying to get his head around that, “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean it. Your name’s fine.”
I love all this conveys about where Prompto's from, and also about Prompto's personality.
“Oh, yeah, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to take a look,” Prompto says. “These are my friends. If you could maybe not shoot them if you see them, that’d be super great.”
Prompto is adorable in this! He wants to take pictures and cuddle the horses and if Arthur could helpfully not kill any of his friends, that would be nice!
“Jesus,” Arthur says. “Ain’t you got any normal friends?”
Prompto hesitates. “Uh, do you count?”
Aw, Prompto!
“You’re joking,” Arthur says. “You’ve been blending in so fine I can’t even see you in front of me.”
I love Arthur's sense of humor.
“We’d be very grateful,” Ignis says.
Arthur thrusts his hands into his pockets and looks up at the sky and lets out a heavy breath. “Fine.”
And that's what wins him over. Aw, Arthur!
“Magical light sounds about right.”
“Okay,” Noct says. “Getting back’s probably pretty much the same.”
“Right,” Arthur says. “You know where I could find some of this magical light?”
Noct hesitates.
Great.
Yep, Arthur's stranded. On the upside, Arthur, I think Prompto likes you nearly as much as he likes the horses! ...well, at least half as much, which is still a lot.
Horseless carriages everywhere, huge animals I ain’t never seen before. There’s a man they say is a prince and I swear to anyone listening he can throw fire and make weapons appear in his hands. I do not like it and I do not trust it.
I can just picture him frowning disapprovingly and suspiciously at everything.
no subject
Was that last bit from the game, or did you come up with it?
It's my line! I try to avoid reusing lines from canon, because they're never as good the second time around.
I love how Arthur talks in this!
I hadn't realised how much fun Arthur would be to write! I hugely enjoyed trying to get into his voice.
Thank you so much!