melodiesofeternity | Raise a Glass [OPEN]

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Raise a Glass [OPEN]

Who: The XV Cast and You!
When: June 6th
Where: Curti Center, Jiminy's Juicery (bar)
What: After saving innocents from the Dream Width, some people just need a drink.
Warnings/Notes: Alcohol consumption, possible violence, whatever people do in bars.

Their first foray into the search and rescue business in the Dream Width had been intense, to say the least. Stressful, heartbreaking, exhausting, and enlightening were other words some might use to describe the experience. After a night of rest and a day to somewhat sort things and people out, the next evening brings about a mighty need to head to the local tavern. Some drink to forget, some drink to remember, some drink to relax. There are even representatives of the Bard's Guild providing live music. You can try to make a request, but chances are they don't know your foreign songs.

Maybe you were invited by one of the excitable young men from Lucis, or maybe you came on your own. There's enough room in the bar for quite a few people, so long as they're of age. Sit right at the bar, or pull up chairs around a table, the choice is yours.

[OoC: Make your own toplevel or tag around. Please put content warnings as necessary. Have fun!]

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He would react to that flat comment, but honestly, what follows is more upsetting. No, Clarus hadn't been sneaking around, but he also thought he was in a safe place to try and focus himself and try and improve his mental state.

Prompto had misjudged that, apparently because Clarus was presenting himself in a somewhat threatening manner, and the order made him glance away.

"I don't-" His voice caught. "I don't want to talk about it."

Whatever softness was left on the man's face hardened when Prompto refused. He clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed just a bit.

"Let me rephrase," he began once more. "You are going to tell me everything about that memory." The fact that Prompto didn't want to, aside from the whole patricide thing (which honestly seemed justified), made Clarus think he really did have something to hide.

"I don't-" Prompto began, his voice catching in his throat.

"Why? I don't want to talk about it! It's bad enough I have to remember it!" He protested, he wasn't seeing it from Clarus' point of view, he was focused on the pain the memories caused him.

He'd already confessed to Noct, in a good deal of detail, and Ignis slighter details, and it wasn't enough to make his nightmares disappear. All they were, were nightmares to him at that point. He was doing his best not to show how damaged he was.

The highly-trained and experienced shield wasn't about to give in to the discomfort of this young man who might be an enemy. Prompto's breakdown just seemed to turn Clarus into even more of a steeled force.

"What are you hiding? What happened after what I saw?" He pressed, remaining firmly planted in place. His voice was low and even, a growl that carried between them and not much further. "You're a Niflheim experiment, I saw as much. What was your purpose?"

He curled up in a protective ball - not out of fear, but because he was stressed and he shook his head.

"What?"

To put it so bluntly, to question him when even his friends hadn't. He stared at Clarus a moment, opened his mouth and closed it again.

"If you saw it all..." He breathed in a shaky breath. "Then you know I was stolen as an infant. So I don't know, what it would have been. Probably to die as an MT."

Prompto's voice cracked. "I'm not hiding anything!" He sounded pained. "I just don't want to talk about it because no one likes to relive torture." He let out a frustrated sound, he needed to move, to do something and put his hands down on the couch and stood up to go.

"So they said," he agreed with a hint of cynicism in his voice. "But they knew you were there. What did you find out after?"

Moving away was not allowed. The larger man reached out and grasped the smaller by his upper arm, a vice-like grip that didn't promise to relent any time soon. He may have been stripped of some of his abilities form home, but his strength and reflexes remained. Prompto was pushed firmly back onto the couch and the spark of Clarus's glare suggested he should not move if he didn't want to find himself in pain.

"I am asking you questions, boy," he snarled, looking down his nose at the boy. "Why did they torture you? Who brought you to Lucis?"

He'd been spending some time reading on his bed when some raised voices caught his attention. Not one to ignore trouble, especially between his friends and family, Gladio rose and followed the increasingly irritable voices.

Only to hear his father call Prompto a Nifflheim experiment.

Stunned for a moment, he stood silent in shock. What the hell? Why would his Dad even think that? Then Prompto mentioned torture and Gladio saw red. He didn't pick up anything his dad said after that, too focused on getting there right now to put a stop to ... whatever this was.

Arriving at the scene, sharp eyes took in the sight of Prompto on the couch with his arm gripped tightly by one Clarus Amicitia and Gladio sprang into action.

He vaulted over the couch, landing to his fathers side and forcing himself between the two. With a forceful shove, he tried to drive Clarus back a step (and dislodge his grip) as he growled.

"Dad, what the hell is this? Why are you interrogating him?" Gladio stretched one arm slightly behind him and to the side, attempting to create a barrier between Prompto and the open air, and planted his feet firmly.

He would not let his father hurt or upset his friend - his brother.

"What more was there to find out?" Prompto cried out, pained emotionally although when Clarus got into his space, grabbed and manhandled him, his eyes flickered with fear. In that moment he was seeing that smug smirk of the Chancellor, not Clarus' grim expression.

"How should I know?" He cried out, breathing hard. How would he know who took him to Lucis? He was a baby. He was a helpless baby and he wasn't sure if his parents were involved or not, how would he know?

There was the sound of Gladio coming in and hopefully tearing them apart, but he used the chance to press himself into the back of the couch, breathing coming in sharp, quick breaths. The crowding, the fear, it was setting off a full blown panic attack which he did not need right then.

Prompto's voice was small, and he let out a sardonic laugh. "He did it for fun.I was the bait."

Clarus definitely heard Gladio coming far before he saw him, and by the time his son was trying to get in between them Clarus was disengaging. A fight between the two Amicitias wasn't what he needed right now, but taking on his son wasn't outside the realm of possibility, the older man realized.

Posture remaining tense, Clarus took a somewhat defensive position as well. Feet spread, arms at his sides with hands balled into loose fists. If a scuffle were to ensue, he had no intention to be the instigator. But he'd certainly do his best to put Gladio out of the fight if it came to it.

"Did you know about this?" He asked his son, unblinking gaze fixed on his heir's to read his intents and movements, but believe that his peripheral attention was focused on Prompto to be sure the person in question didn't flee the scene. "Did you know the prince's closest friend was born to be a Nifflheim soldier?"

But Prompto's voice caught his attention and the knight shifted his gaze past his son toward the would-be magitek. "Just bait? Or did you have another purpose at Noctis's side?"

Gladio glared at his father, eyes hard and unyielding. Every muscle was tensed and ready for a fight - one he hoped wouldn't come but had to anticipate just in case.

Prompto's breathing, all panic and fear, and his borderline-hysterical words tugged at his heart and suddenly he realized maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. A sharp whistle and Noodle floated over from where she'd been waiting in the hallway. With a nod of his head towards Prompto, the incredibly cuddly Moogle drifted over to press against the blond's side and wrap her little arms around him. "Choco, you're safe now - kupo."

Satisfied that Prompto would hopefully take some comfort from the gentle Moogle, Gladio answered his father's questions.

"I don't even know what you're talking about or why you're accusing him of anything, let alone calling him a Nifflheim experiment." He knew his dad wouldn't make accusations like that lightly, but where the hell did he even get this idea? Was it even true?

Not that it mattered. Regardless of his origins, which Gladio knew almost nothing about, Prompto was a Lucian through and through. He was one of them - a brother in arms. And, as a result of time spent together over the years, a true friend.

"Even if he was born in Nifflheim and meant to be a soldier for 'em, that doesn't mean anything. I'm not a Shield just because I was born for it - I'm a Shield because I trained for it. I devoted my life to it. Prom devoted his life to chocobos, photography, and the Crown. An' his purpose at Noct's side was to be a friend and a protector. Which he is."

Prompto enjoyed cute things like moogles, but he didn't really respond to Noodle much at all. He wasn't thinking about cute moogles or hugs, but he was watching them fight over him.

People shouldn't fight over him, he just wasn't worth it.

"I h-haven't had the chance to tell you." Prompto murmured from behind Gladio. He was losing control of the situation and he'd been slipping from the beginning. He really had the worst luck-

No. He couldn't think that way. He couldn't go down that hole or he'd never leave it.

"That's...two different things." He sucked in a breath, swallowing. "I only have one purpose at Noctis' side and that's to be his best friend. He needed a friend, that's why I'm here. That's why. No one-" He stopped himself, that wasn't true.

"Lady Lunafreya suggested it when we were kids. I barely know anything about where I came from. I know what you know. After the dream ended, I made it out of that building with Aranea's help. I tried to burn off this Astral-damned barcode that I didn't ask for, and I don't want." He sounded halfway to hysterics, but he was hanging in there.

"I wanted to die." Prompto confessed quieter, unable to meet their eyes. He thought he'd lost everything, he thought his friends would react like this.

If Prompto had just said any of this earlier, they wouldn't be in this tense situation. If he hadn't resisted, Clarus wouldn't have had to escalate at all. And if he'd just sat still, they might still be talking with their inside voices. But no, the boy had to be difficult. Emotional trauma or not, when a figure of authority asks an important question, if you have nothing to hide you answer.

The elder Shield seemed to back off a bit in stance, ever so slightly, at the mention of Lady Lunafreya. If that was true, if she were involved, then Clarus had no right to question the situation. Her motives were divine as far as he was concerned, being the Oracle. She'd always had Noctis' best interest at heart.

His brows knit at the new information, and it seemed as though the older Amicitia was going to back off, but... "You would do well to become more skeptical of the world around you, Gladiolus. I'm afraid I trained you to be too complacent with those you consider your allies." He hadn't told Gladio yet, but... "The Empire has people everywhere. Insomnia fell due in no small part to a traitor I considered a brother."

His piece said, Clarus shifted out of his defensive stance. He stared at Prompto without expression for a moment, weighing his words and his reactions.

Prompto's words drove a lance through Gladio's heart.

He registered that Lady Lunafreya apparently had some sort of hand in Prompto befriending Noct, which was something he'd ask about at another time because he was too busy processing that Prompto had wanted to die. That he'd deliberately hurt himself to try to remove whatever barcode he was talking about.

Their group's one, shining ray of sunshine had apparently gone through something so traumatizing that he thought self-mutilation and even death would have been better than getting back to his friends.

Noticing his father's stance soften a touch, Gladio listened to Clarus' backhanded advice - and to his words about one of the things that lead to Insomnia's fall. That was something they'd have to talk about another day too. Because in this moment, all he wanted was to comfort Prompto. He gave his father a small nod before turning his back in order to kneel on the floor in front of the couch and wrap his arms around the shaking blond.

In this position, he could press their foreheads together and softly encourage Prompto to go through a breathing exercise (he sometimes had to use them for anger and imagined they'd work similarly in this situation).

"Breathe, kid. With me - in ... out ... in ... out ... keep goin' champ, you're doin' great. You've got no idea how much you mean to all of us - we need you with us, blondie. Jus' keep breathin' - you're safe."

Pulling Prompto a bit closer, letting the blond head rest on his shoulder, Gladio turned his head a bit to address Clarus.

"I hear what you're saying Dad. I do. And I promise we will talk about it. Later." His face asked his father to understand. To understand that right now, Prompto was his priority. But that he had every intention of continuing the conversation about what lead to Insomnia's fall and who that traitor was.

And he'd make sure it stayed a conversation and not a fistfight.

He took Gladio's advice, leaning into the embrace and focusing on breathing. That was good, and helpful, he'd been trying to do breathing before he was so rudely interrupted.

"I know. No I know." Prompto hurried to speak between breaths, resting his hands on Gladio's shoulders.

"Aranea snapped me out of it." He murmured. All hope had been lost, but she smacked some sense into him and he'd been hopeful before things got bad again.

"I know. I was weak for a minute. Forgive me. Please." Prompto pleaded, but it was things like that that was concerning Noct at the moment.

Later. That would do for now, but...

"Just remember, there might not always be a 'later', Gladiolus." There hadn't been for Regis and Clarus.

For a few moments more Clarus stood and stoically watched the scene before him. Prompto was genuinely upset, had been genuinely upset. Torture and attempted self-mutilation had scarred him, obviously, but that didn't mean there hadn't been malicious plans in the works for the boy even if he weren't consciously involved.

Still, whatever he'd found out about his own origins beyond what Clarus saw, he'd have to find out later. For now, he turned and exited the room, then the house. The chocobos needed tending to anyhow.

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Raise a Glass [OPEN]

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