acatalepsy_logs | Don't Skip Your Flu Shot

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Don't Skip Your Flu Shot

Who: Everyone! It's a mingle post for the first week of Struxta sickness!!
Where: All around the temple
When: During the first week of the sickness
Rating PG?? At most??
What: Curry, blankets and pillow forts, and other assorted sick things

[With the Struxta illness sweeping through the temple like a wildfire, and with so many new arrivals trying to get adjusted to temple living, it's probably no surprise that things around the Astoria's little pocket of space have gotten a little hectic. Feeling under the weather? Looking for something warm to soothe that scratchy throat? Just want to curl up underneath a pile of blankets and not move for like, seven hours or so? Never fear! A Mysterious Helper (TM) has you covered]

A. Curry in the Kitchen

[The kitchen smells extremely nice during lunchtime this week, the only meal of the day that isn't pre-prepared by the misty servants. Like the scent of coffee intermingled with complementary spices. Those who take the initiative to investigate will find something pleasant waiting for them. A few pots of fresh made curry and steamed rice; a few pots of miso soup (a. . . little on the salty side, sorry); and some freshly brewed coffee already poured into individual mugs, along with cream and sugar and whatever additives your heart desires. It's all strewn out across the counter tops with a handwritten note pinned against the wall above the stove:]

Help yourself, and get well soon.

[There isn't any sign of the mysterious chef when you enter the kitchen, and if you arrive near the end of lunch hour, some of the food and coffee miiiiight be a bit cold. But hey! This might be a good chance to mingle with some of your new coworkers who are also seeking out a warm meal to help quell some of their cold symptoms. Just please don't sneeze into the curry pot, thanks. . .]

[Lunch will be laid out in the kitchen every day at lunchtime for the entire first week of the sickness. Help yourselves!]

B. The Temple Hallways

[THERE ARE BLANKETS AND PILLOWS EVERYWHERE]

[. . . no, seriously. For some reason, it's like you can't even walk down a hallway without tripping over a bundled up blanket or a pillow. What's up with that! For the most part, they're normal bedtime accessories, although you may find a bundle of pillows and blankets stacked up into an ENTIRE PILLOW FORT if you're lucky.]

[Pinned to the walls of the hallways (not every hallway, but enough of them that it should be easy to find one of the signs without wandering for too long) are more handwritten signs:]

Whoever can build the tallest pillow fort will receive one (1) high five as a grand prize. Good luck. Blanket provider is not responsible for anyone accidentally falling asleep in the hallways and blocking your route back to your bedroom.

[Hm. Well, that's weird. Anyway! You can build a pillow fort if you want, grab some blankets to take back to your room, or. . . nap in the hallways. Or do whatever! They're all free for the taking. Maybe you could even team up with another Circle member to try and win that extremely coveted high five??]

C. Wildcard

[Don't feel like interacting with any of the above? That's okay! Make your own prompt based on the event stuff over here, or just use this post for. . . whatever you want! It's totally and completely open for mingling for new and old characters alike, so. HAVE FUN ♥]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

But...you're still doing it for me.

[ He knows her, how driven she is, how thoughtful and sweet. She would not any of them suffer an illness like this, if she thought there was some way she could help. But she is here with him. Not with her brother of any of the others, but with Prompto.

Idly, he starts to pick at a grape, coughing lightly against the crook of his arm. ]

J-just...worry about everyone else before you worry about my sorry ass, okay? I'll be fine.

[ He should come last. ]

What?

[ he cannot see her sharp look, but no doubt he can hear it in her voice, in its hard, sharp edge, its steely tone. ]

What is that supposed to mean?

[ It says more than enough that he is clearly surprised by her outburst, his eyebrows flying up as a grape tumbles from his fingers to the floor. Why...does she sound so upset? Has she misunderstood his meaning and taken him to be ungrateful instead?

Nothing could be further from the truth. ]

P-please, I-I didn't mean...I owe you more than I could ever pay you back for. All I mean is, uh...I should...be lower on your list of...priorities. Take care of the others first.

[ That isn't...asking too much, is it? He just wants her to put others before him.

But it goes so much deeper than that. ]

[ though she is certainly capable of gentleness, as he has seen, alisaie often struggles to express her heart in ways that most might understand. it certainly doesn't help that she is exhausted, but his words rile her somewhere deep, her blood running hot, her jaw tightening at the joints with frustration she cannot find the words to explain. ]

It is for me to decide who is worth my time and who is not. Not you.

[ she says, firmly, a scowl etched deeply on her face. what nonsense is this that he is spouting? how easy he finds it to lay down his own conveniences for others, but it seems all too unwilling to receive it in kind. ]

Why should you be unworthy? What great sin have you committed that has made you unsuitable for care? That is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said, which is no doubt a feat.

[ His jaw positively drops at her rebuke, eyes wide and dismayed, and he doesn't need to see her expression to know how she must be looking at him. Her tone says more than enough, and how simple and straightforward she makes this sound. This is her choice, and he wouldn't think to take it from her.

But she doesn't have all the details, and her following questions are hilariously on-point. The only reason she's treating him like she is...because she doesn't know. Right? If she knew, she would think twice about this. Dammit, why couldn't he have decided sooner to tell her? Maybe...she wouldn't even be here right now if he had. He owes her the truth.

...But it hadn't changed the way Noctis and the others saw him. Before they had forgotten, anyway. They still treated him the same, like it didn't matter, and Alisaie has the benefit of not being Lucian, or even from Eos herself. She doesn't know the horrors the Empire has committed. They aren't her enemy.

Still, it's far from easy to bridge the gap, the actually answer those questions than attempt to sweep them aside. It helps that he doubts she would let him, sick or not, after how sternly she had shut him down. She's ready and willing to listen, and he is ready to tell her. So why is this still so damn hard?

Because, as ever, he's afraid. Afraid that as soon as she knows the truth about him, she will leave, never to look his way again. Maybe it's an irrational fear, but he has an irrational heart, emotional and tender and genuine, and he has few people he is as close to as he is with her. She is the best friend he has made from this world, second only to his brothers, and if he were to lose her...

His head dips down in a bow, color flaring up in his cheeks, as he knits his fingers together over his bouncing knees. ]

...You...you saw it, didn't you? My...wrist.

[ Though he poses it as a question, it isn't one, really. She must have seen it, and chosen not to remark upon it. She's too sharp to have let it go unnoticed, after he'd drawn so much attention to it the other day. ]

[ she feels sorry for it, for the hard edge in her voice, the sharpness of her tone, but this is.. who she is. he is so tender, so easily bruised, but he is stronger than he appears, stronger even than he thinks he is, and sometimes these sorts of things must be ground in harder than is comfortable. this isn't the first that she has seen it - alisaie is perceptive, certainly perceptive enough to have seen this behavior before, and taken note of it, to have peered right through the thin veneer of his jokes and smiles to the self-deprecating humor beneath it.

it is not abnormal to struggle with self-esteem. alisaie had as well, for so long. she had ever been different, from the very moment she was born she tore down the walls built to encase her and defied all expectation, the black lamb following in the footsteps of her rebellious grandsire. she did not have friends, and though her parents loved her, they did not understand her, and have always attempted to shape her into something else, fit her into the box that was not made for her. it was a lonely upbringing, made gradually worse as she matured, as she grew further and further away from all that everyone expected her to be. years, it took, before she learned to be confident in herself, to trust in her own heart, and find her worth.

even now, she struggles with it - these weeks are evidence enough. her helplessness. her uselessness. broken down, it is all too easy to feel as if she has no value, can make no difference.

but she also knows that that is wrong, and she knows that it is wrong for prompto to feel it, too. prompto who has been kind and sweet since the moment they met, prompto who leaps at any chance to help others, strangers, who lights up every room he is in with incredible warmth. her gentle assurances have not been enough, in the past; mayhaps it is simply time she press the issue harder, hurt him to heal him. ]

Aye. The mark. What of it?

[ her tone is softer now, but not entirely gentle, still firm enough to keep on task, to demonstrate that she will not let up. ]

[ Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise that he can't maintain eye contact with her while they have this conversation, because he isn't sure he could do it. As it is, he can't even bring himself to lift his head towards her, leaving it hung low between his shoulders, expression bleak and strained. There is no going back now — he realizes that. But the temptation is still there, to somehow change the conversation, to draw away, no matter how ashamed he might be. At least then, they might still be friends afterwards.

But...will they be, after this? After she knows the truth about him, and what he's kept from her all this time?

He has to offer her the out, at least once. He has to give her the chance to leave this behind, if she wants to, though he has a feeling he already knows what her answer will be. ]

It's...a long story. Sure you're up for it?

[ And not a happy one, either. ]

[ she knows what he's doing, that he's drawing this out because he does not want to address whatever is to come, and.. well, truth be told, it's enough to make her chest tighten with uncertainty. what has him so frightened? is it possible that she had hit a little too close to home - has he done something unforgivably terrible?

no. she cannot believe that. his heart is warm and kind, he has not deceived her; she considers herself a good judge of character, and never has he given her reason to doubt the purity of his intentions. ]

Prompto..

[ she chides, a little more gently, though still very forwardly. ]

Enough stalling.

[ It's just as he thought, then. There is no going back from this point. To be fair, he was the one who brought them here, so if he feels trapped, he can only blame himself, and anyway...it's not that he feels trapped, more that...there's only one way forward. He knows what it entails, and it is terrifying.

But he did not replace his wristband for a reason, and it's all come down to this moment. He can't predict what will happen, once she knows the truth of it, and if she should choose to leave him behind, he wouldn't blame her. But if she somehow chooses to stay, as the others had...

Then everything will change.

He takes as deep a breath as he can, his head still dipped low, and finally, he begins to speak. ]

I told you...we were travelin' the world, right? Me 'n' the other guys. Noct, Gladio, Iggy...and me. We weren't just doing it for the fun of it. We...were on the run. Fugitives from our own country of Lucis, because the Empire swooped in and took over, and...Noct was its prince. Or...king, if you wanna get technical, after the old king was...

[ Well. She can piece that part together. Part of him feels guilty for laying the tracks here, because so much of it really isn't his story to tell. But for Alisaie to understand the gravity of what he's going to tell her, she needs the background first. It won't mean anything without that. ]

The Empire...Niflheim. It's...horrible. They just...push everyone around, taking over country after country and amassing power until they could at last attack Insomnia and take the Crystal that was keeping us safe. The king sent us away so we weren't there when the city fell, but... [ A little shake of his head, as he pauses for a drink. This much talking isn't doing his throat any favors, but it is necessary. ] The Emperor would stop at nothing to claim the Crystal. It didn't...matter to him who stood in his way. They...created soldiers, whole armies, just to mindlessly obey and destroy others...millions of them.

[ And he was almost among them. ]

It's not hard to guess that the Niffs weren't exactly...popular, in Lucis.

[ alisaie listens carefully, though it is not so hard to follow, in truth. powerful empires hell-bent on taking the world for themselves are hardly anything new to her, and much of what prompto says rings quite familiar. a tale as old as time.

but surely he must be going somewhere, with this. she can piece much of it together from the patchwork knowledge she has about his world, but the picture becomes far clearer once the missing pieces begin to fit themselves into place. still.. she cannot yet see the end result, whatever point he he drawing toward. was he a member of this empire? did he mayhaps kill others, before turning his back on them?

no, that cannot be right.. he is still so young. how could that be?

best not to get ahead of herself. alisaie refocuses her gaze on his profile again. ]

I should think not.

[ but she will ask no questions, not yet, not until he is finished. ]

[ No doubt she is already formulating some idea of where this is going, but he hasn't yet given her enough to form her own conclusion. Not that he should be relying on her to do so, anyway. Now that he's doing this, he isn't going to go about it halfway, no matter how his hands might be trembling, no matter how he may not be unable to hold still at all, his body tense and tight and his palms sweaty for reasons that have nothing to do with the illness that has beset him.

He has to keep going. ]

So...you can imagine that someone from there wouldn't be hot stuff, either. Someone...s-someone like me.

[ So, she's not on the wrong track with her line of thinking. Prompto sucks in a deep breath, blinking back tears that threaten at the corners of his eyes, as his thumb draws over his tattoo, bringing attention to it more deliberately. Even if he cannot see, he knows exactly where it is on his skin, where it indelibly sits against his wrist. He'd once tried to burn it away, and even that didn't work. For as much as he had decided not to let this mark define him, it is still a part of him, and there is no letting go of his past completely. There is no changing it, nor undoing all those years of fearful loneliness. Will he ever be able to truly let go of this crippling lack of self-worth that plagues him? Even after Noct told him he was good enough?

His chest tightens around his heart like a cage, emotion rounding out the sound of his voice, coloring it in somber and wistful tones. ]

Alisaie, I...I-I'm from the very place who tried to kill my friends. Who destroyed our home and took our Crystal. The Empire hurt people, killed them...a-and I...

[ His voice drops to a pained hush. ]

I-I was...made to be one of them.

[ Made, not born. ]

[ alisaie is quiet as she listens, and for as hasty and impatient as she is as a person, she takes her time putting it together, pulling the story into a cohesive whole in her mind and comparing it against the person that she has come to know. there are still holes here and there, small details that want defining, but he has given her more than enough to understand.

her brow creases thoughtfully, and alisaie exhales, following the movement of his fingers against his wrist for a few moments before she reaches out, and carefully takes his hand. gently, and with care, she smooths her thumb over the black mark that she can only assume has to do with his birth, with his designation as a.. soldier? is that what he was meant to be? ]

Listen to me, Prompto.

[ she says, taking care to keep her voice level, gentle but still firm enough that he knows she will brook no nonsense. ]

Were our situations reversed, and I told you what you have told me, but about myself, how would you answer? What would you think of me?

[ She's quiet for so long that he begins to panic, the lines of his expression growing harder and harder, until he is sure his worst fears have come true. She's disgusted to learn this about him, that he could presume to be friends with the very people that he was made to hurt, and that he has such trouble accepting such a fact about himself. Alisaie is strong and brave. How pathetic he must seem, whimpering with his tail between his legs, like he has any room to feel sorry for himself when he should have just moved on by now.

But then something happens that he does not anticipate. Alisaie...takes a hold of his hand, draws her fingers over his skin, and his breath catches in his throat as the soft pad of her finger slips over the codeprint. It's enough to make him dizzy.

It takes him some time to answer back, though he turns, ever so slightly towards her, his still trembling hand in hers. He his to unpack that question, uncoil it from the brambles around his heart, and distantly, he knows what she's doing. She's trying to give him some perspective on this. But it isn't...it isn't that simple. If it were, maybe he would have gotten over this fear of his long, long ago. ]

I-I wouldn't think of you any different. You're still you. B-but...it's not the same with me, Ali. You're so strong a-and kind and smart and wonderful. You...make yourself worth knowing, no matter where you came from. But I...

[ He shakes his head sharply, a sob tumbling loose from his throat. ]

I-I'm...nothing. Everything that I am, everything I do, I do because I'm desperate to be wanted. Hah...h-how selfish is that? I thought I could change, I-I thought I figured out how to be my own person, Noct and the others...the even accepted me when I told them. But they don't remember any of that, and now I — I'm just too much of a coward to tell them again. I-I don't even trust my own friends, because I'm that selfish...

[ And this is what he wanted. To tell her this, to show her this, his bleeding heart, the cracks at his core. ]

...Is that the kind of person you want to be friends with?

[ he may not think it is that simple, but as far as alisaie is concerned, it is very simple indeed. ]

And if I said that to you? If I said that I was nothing?

[ he would fight it, he would balk and argue it, but prompto must begin to understand that his perspective is not the only one, and that the people who befriend him have minds and hearts of their own, that they are capable of perceiving and judging people without needing outside input, that the conclusions they draw about him, or anyone else, are no less valid than his own. ]

We are all selfish. We all long to fit in. Even those who seem most confident, and self-assured, yearn for companionship, and there is little we will not stoop to to earn the affections and acceptance of our peers. What you feel is normal, something that we all feel.

[ and, tightening her hand in his - ]

You must understand how it hurts the people you care for, to think of yourself this way. Were anyone to say such things about your friends, would you not immediately leap to their defense? Would it not wound you, to see them treated so carelessly?

W-well, yeah, but —

[ But it's the same argument. People like Noctis and Gladio and Ignis are important. Necessary. There are people who need them. There are special things that only they can do. Even without their rank and titles, even if they were all just people, they have so much more to offer than he does. He tries so desperately, and yet he still cannot forgive himself the simple trespass of having a life to live in the first place.

This is his life. He is his own person now. So why, why does he still run up to these walls? ]

...but they're special...important. Me? I'm just...one out of millions, created for one reason only, and, heh...I couldn't even get that right.

[ A wet, mirthless laugh breaks through his tears. ]

That is enough.

[ the edge is back in her voice again; the arguments seem to scratch the surface, but she cannot yet punch it through to his mind. it is so frustrating to see him run in this circle, to ignore what is so obvious in favor of what he believes. ]

Think about what it is that you are saying. Truly consider it. Assuming you are just 'one out of millions,' what should that matter? Are you saying that anyone who is not special does not deserve to live, or to be loved, or enjoy happiness? That normal folk have no worth, if they are not saving the world, or running a country, or killing daemons?

[ at last alisaie releases his hands, but only so that she can take his face into her hold, and though she is not ungentle, her grasp is firm and unforgiving. he may not be able to see her face, or the way her eyes bore into him, but no doubt he can feel it. ]

Who are you to assume that you have no worth to anyone? That you are not important? How dare you say such a thing about someone I care for? I would not tolerate anyone saying such things about those important to me, do you think I will sit here and allow you to say them?

I —

[ But in truth, he has no words, no rebuttal, when she takes a hold of him like that, still unseeing but feeling her eyes intent upon him. She really believes this, doesn't she? She won't back down from it, even though she has ever reason to, even though he's given her every chance to. He hasn't listened to reason, so she will drill it into him if she must, and he's reminded of another conversation, not too unlike this one, on the cold, frozen tundra of Niflheim itself. Aranea had spoken to him in a similar manner, uncompromising, until he could get it through his thick skull what she was saying to him. Now may be far removed from that literally, but it's not too different from what Aranea had told him then.

You worry so much about what other people want from you that you don't even know what you want anymore.

How...had he forgotten that? Has he really just been blind this whole time, focused too much on how others might see him that he's completely lost sight of what he decided that day?

He inhales, slow and careful, drawing balance into his lungs. ]

It...really doesn't...bother you? You think I...that I'm...important?

[ She...really cares about him this much? ]

Edited 2018-09-16 05:59 (UTC)

How could I not?

[ her response is quick, immediate, so as to demonstrate no hesitation at all. though she is angry and frustrated, of course, she also aches deep down in her soul to know that he has felt this way - that he has always felt this way, behind every sweet smile and kind gesture and endearing laugh. she understands, of course she does, for she has been there herself, but prompto is so much more than she ever was, his heart is warm and loving, for all that he has been through he has not grown cynical and belligerent like her, but instead patient and energetic and kind. that anyone could think him having no value, that he himself could think him having no value..

she can hardly bear the thought. he has been a friend from the very beginning, accepting of her hard, sharp edges, quick to comfort her, to help her any time it was needed - it is terrible to think of him in such pain. alisaie has been unable to help to cure his body of what ails him, but mayhaps, she can ease his mind. ]

Everyone does. Your brothers, of course, but not only them - you delight every person you meet, you leave us better than we were before knowing you. You must begin to understand that.

[ and, her hands dropping from his face at last, alisaie winds her arms around his neck and pulls him close for a hug, her grip near painfully tight, holding fast, even as she turns her head enough to press a kiss to the crest of his cheek. ]

Please.. please believe us.

[ She doesn't hesitate a second before giving her response, leaving him no time to suppose that she is formulating a favorable answer as to cheer him up. No. She...really means that, doesn't she? She pleads with him to believe her as she pulls him into a tight hug he quickly reciprocates, and —

And he feels the warm press of her lips against his cheeks, sending a shockwave through his entire system, a soft, vulnerable sound escapes his throat as the tears break free once more.

What she's asking him to do isn't easy. Ever since he was old enough to understand he's known he was different, known he wasn't a Lucian, and while he hasn't known the depths of his origins until recently, he believed that he had no place in Lucis, that being there, and being friends with someone like Noctis, was just too good to last. He didn't belong with such wonderful, talented people. His parents had been different, and he had never been good at making friends, too shy and afraid to speak up when he might've had the chance. Now he's shed so much of that, growing into himself as a part of the Crownsguard, finding his identity as they hit the road. This is one more piece of that puzzle, a necessary step if he is ever going to truly heal his own heart. There are others around him ready to help it happen. He just has to...let them do so.

And perhaps it won't be as hard as he thinks. It may be terrifying, but it certainly isn't hard to hold her, to press his face to her collar and sob, to let the poisonous murk in his soul out, breathing her in as his fingers wind tight in her clothing. She's so warm, and she smells so nice...he could stay here in her arms forever. ]

Okay. W-will you help me?

[ If she believe in him, maybe he can find the courage to do the same. ]

[ he agrees, and alisaie releases a breath she had hardly realized she had been holding, warm relief washing over her. at last he is beginning to come around, to be reasonable, and while she knows full well that this is not the last of it - that she will see far more of this behavior than she would like - this is, at least, something. ]

Of course.

[ she pulls back, but only enough that she can touch her brow to his, gentle and supportive. later, she might look back on this and flush with embarrassment, but for now it feels so.. effortless, so easy. ]

I would love nothing more.

[ She would love nothing more.

How did he ever get so lucky? To have someone like her care about him? Could he really have done something to deserve this? She seems to think so, and so - okay. He'll fight with everything he has within him to think so, too. Every day that comes after this one he'll remind himself of this moment, of what it feels like to be held so close by her, her brow pressed to his, so close he can feel the gentle rush of her breath against his cheek. And if he could see, he is sure he could see himself reflected in her eyes.

This is... ]

... Glad to hear it.

[ His voice is nothing more than a whisper, spoken into the private space between them. A heat creeps up his cheeks that has nothing to do with the fever that still plagues him, his breath catching in his throat, and he can't help but think about that night at the festival, the two of them side by side at the water's edge, bathed in moonlight, palms kissing. This moment is so far removed from that one, but his heart feels closer to hers than it ever had before.

Thoughtlessly, he lifts a hand to her face, guiding his fingers over that which he cannot see, thumb pulling along her jaw and over her bottom lip.

...What is he doing? ]

[ prompto is not the only one reminded of that night. alisaie remembers it, too, she remembers how she had felt, how the space between them had hummed with a quiet, shared energy. it had been so.. strange and unfamiliar, so new, unlike anything she had ever felt before, terrifying and exciting. she had tried not to put a name to it, just as she has tried not to put a name to the reason she smiles so easily at the sound of his laugh, or how his company warms her somewhere deep in her heart.

these things are unfamiliar to her, strange, and thrilling. she is not like prompto, she has never had a crush in her life, she doesn't know what it feels like, what it means, but what other word is there to describe what she is feeling..? especially now, when he speaks so softly in the space between them, when his hand lifts, his thumb drawing over her lip.

it's electric, a sudden jolt that gives her a start, her breath catching, her heart kicking up into the back of her throat. she's never.. felt a touch like that before, and it's so simple, so innocent, but it sets a flush up her neck, goosebumps prickling her skin, her head spinning, pleasantly dizzy. she's not thinking, not considering what is happening, not considering anything beyond this specific moment. ]

P-Prompto..

[ she whispers nervously, her hands in his shirt tightening, white-knuckled, though she makes no effort to move away. ]

[ She whispers his name back to him, thunderous for how quietly she utters it, and his heart hammers against his ribcage so relentlessly that she must be able to hear it. Here they are, at the end of one of the most difficult conversations Prompto has ever had, and she is closer than ever before, holding tight to him, instead of drawing away. He may have had plenty of crushes before, but he's never had something like, something so...tangible, and real, that he could almost suppose, for a moment...that she might feel something back.

For him?

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss her right now. Except for, you know, the actual kissing part, but she's so close, and there's a part of him — a very loud part — that wants to throw caution to the wind and do so. What has he got to lose? In this moment, he feels invincible, like nothing can go wrong, even if he's blind and sick, if he could kiss her then everything else would fade, just as it has right now.

But what if she doesn't feel the same? She...she might just be affectionate, she's always let her actions speak louder than her words...and for all they have grown closer tonight, is that too big of a leap to make? To think that because she is as close as she is, that she might...have feelings for him?

Frozen, he stays rooted to the spot, his hand still cupping her cheek. Dammit, if he could just see, if he could just look into her eyes and see what is in them —

But ultimately, it doesn't matter what he decides, because at that moment a sneeze rises up threateningly within him, and Prompto jerks back quickly so he can turn and sneeze into the crook of his elbow.

...Right. He is still disgustingly ill. ]

[ he jerks away so quickly that for a moment she is terribly confused, blinking into the space between them, snapping back to awareness of what has happened.

oh. right. a.. sneeze. he's sick, and she was here to take care of him, not to - to..

ah, her face burns hot in an instant, and she can't help but be grateful that prompto cannot see it, but her flagrant embarrassment is at least tempered by the breathless laugh that soon follows. ]

Bless you.

[ she says, though her ears ring and her heart pounds, her hands falling from around him to settle near his wrists. ]

You should rest now..

[ He may not be able to see her face, but she can certainly see his, violently red as he wipes at his nose with a tissue. Gods, they...did he almost just—

This cold is definitely going to his head. She's right — he should rest, before he tries anything...yeah. Crazy. ]

R-right. U-m... [ Words are harder than ever now as his mind starts to draw back together again, no longer strung along from emotional beat to emotional beat, driven solely by his heart. But it's difficult to think through his unrelenting heartbeat, or the dizzying fog still sitting over his mind. What should he say? What should he do? Should he just...pretend like that never happened?

Like he hadn't just been a breath away from kissing her?

...Sleep sounds better than ever. Maybe this too is a dream. ]

Wh-what about you? You're, um...welcome to stay as long as you want.

[ If there's one thing he's certain of right now, it's that she needs rest, too. He realizes a little too late that that might sound like some kind of...invitation, however. He didn't mean it...he only meant...if she sticks around to rest he'll keep her company!!!

He's a mess. ]

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