[The expression she offers isn't unreadable. Instead, it's worried, concerned, caring. She listens to what he says, and even manages to offer a smile at the end. It's fleeting—a remnant of the reassurance she wants to offer. But that doesn't answer everything.
Even though they talked in there, Clarke can't pretend that she fully understands. She doesn't.]
I don't know what that means. What you are. I mean ... [She huffs out a breath.] I saw what you could have been if you weren't saved, but I don't really—nothing like that exists in my world. Not like that, anyway.
[The Reapers are the closest, and they were strong men turned into cannibals, drugged and unthinking. They weren't really all that close at the end of the day.]
[oh, that's right. prompto sits upright and turns to face her, his sandwich forgotten for now.]
It'd be great if nothing like it existed anywhere, honestly. It's just people suffering regardless.
[he smiles, mostly for himself, especially since it doesn't reach his eyes.]
After the dreams, I decided I wouldn't fear being found out anymore. I've gotta own it if I wanna be better, right? [he seems earnest, even if he's definitely fidgeting like someone who is nervous to reveal some deep-seated secret.] I wasn't born, I was created in a lab. The clone of a pretty brilliant scientist—I gotta give him that much, otherwise I wouldn't be as normal-looking as I am—but he went a little nuts towards the end, what I did see of him, anyway. He was part of the Empire that wanted to destroy Lucis, the place I was raised in. It's easy to feel out of place when I look like the enemy and later find out I'm the copy of the man that destroyed our home.
Part of me feels like I still got a long way to go before I can make up for it, for what he did, even if it wasn't my fault.
[it's something like survivor's guilt, it's something like a weird amalgamation of wanting to make things better and feeling frustration at who he is, originally.]
But, I'm human here. I'm not a clone nor a copy, and I just gotta — embrace that feeling, you know? I got lucky where thousands of others didn't. It might have been because of what happened in the dream, but I don't want to feel tied down by these feelings for the rest of my life.
You aren't a copy and you aren't responsible for what he did. [It feels important to get that out. Clarke looks as if she was waiting to say it, holding her tongue so that he could finish speaking. Because listening is just as important, and now that she's listened, it's time to speak. To let him know where she stands.
Her views there were that she needed to help. Some part of her believed that it would help Prompto to know that he could help. Some part of her felt responsible. Even if Clarke isn't a doctor here or back home, she still has some of that mindset—that need to only do harm if the occasion calls for it. (Though some people would argue that even that version of it is only an interpretation and not how it should be seen at all. They wouldn't be wrong.)]
And ... you're welcome. But that first thing is important to know, because you're honestly one of the most affectionate and caring people I've ever met. You care, and you're interested, and you deserve—deserve to not by burdened by that. I know you feel better, but you still said it. And sometimes those things creep up when things get dark. I'll be here for you if it does, and I'll remind you again. [Even if he feels better, even if he won't want to be tied down—Clarke knows humans aren't that changeable. Or she thinks they aren't.
[it takes him a moment, but he does, undoubtedly, chuckle and smile, looking down at his hands at his lap—at his unfinished sandwich. it's hard to think about wanting to eat though, when there's emotion sticking to his throat and he feels warmth around his eyes (tears, maybe, but he's not going to cry). it's nice to hear those things, things that he knows he would hear from his friends one way or another (from noctis, in a roundabout way; from ignis, scolding and sharp; from gladio, through a head knock of a hand into his arm)—but nothing quite the way clarke defines him.]
[it's honest and vulnerable in many ways.]
I'll try to remember that.
[he says, feeling a swell of something warm inside.]
I always think of my faults, but... I'll do my best.
[it's not going to be easy, but it does help to know that others have his back.]
We all do. [Think of their faults, their flaws. Clarke's come by the dozens, and she practically drowns in them. How else would she come to believe that Markus and Prompto are so good, so sweet, that they can't be aware of some of the horrible things she's done? But then, she's learned and told them more, bit by bit. But never the full picture. Never all of it.
She reaches out to grab his hand, fingers wrapping around it and holding it. The affection she feels for him is strong. Despite everything with Clarke—and there is a ton of things that can define that "everything," and most of them dark—when she loves someone and cares for them, she does it quickly and fiercely. Her friends mean the world to her, and that's why she's willing to hurt others for them. To take those new blemishes to her guilt complex in stride.
And what Prompto will feel in this moment is that fierce devotion and love, and something more solid, like an urge to protect him. To be there for him.] That's why we have people who matter. They remind us that there's more.
[it's perhaps not so much her words as is the feeling she transmits though her hand that makes prompto—ultimately—choke up, suddenly. it's a strain in his chest, of a burdened, chiseled pain that kept at his ribcage with the intent of getting heavier and heavier, never to help keep him afloat. it's the suddenness of fierce devotion and love that spreads across to him which has hunching forward with the force of a ragged sob, his hand holding tightly—so tightly—against clarke's own.]
[this isn't something he's familiar with. neglectful foster parents; friendships formed over fragile, over-thinking that every wrong step would end it all; the runt of the litter, always trying to prove his worth; a creature created not out of love but for a want of power and destruction.]
[it blasts through his carefully self-knit defenses, to the point where tears spill and shoulders shake, keeping his face hidden away by his free hand, even if he's pretty much anchored to stay where he is.]
[The most painful part of all is that she was able to break him by showing him affection and love. Clarke is alarmed at first; a spike of uncertainty cuts through the link between them, awash with worry. She pushes it back, focusing on what she can feel from him—what she can discern and recognize. That she can unearth.
And that—combined with the thrust of emotions—is what tips her off the edge. It doesn't take Clarke a lot to cry, but understanding that this hits Prompto so hard? There isn't a scenario where that doesn't make her cry, make her realize that this is something big. Something unspoken.
(Above all else, she believes that Prompto is one of the best of them. Much like how she would see Monty Green one day. He's the type of person who inspires someone to be better, just by being himself.)
She shifts closer, wrapping her free arm around him and holding him close, her face pressing lightly against his shoulder. It's a means of holding him. Somewhat awkward and intimate, but she's there. She's crying, sure, but she's there for him.]
[it's not a position he wants to be in, necessarily. it's hard for him to be in this kind of position, vulnerable and open for someone else to see. the empathy bond has never hit him this hard, especially because he has always done his best to steer clear from any accidental activation of it.]
[the feelings stretching between each other don't come to a halt, either, as clarke keeps the connection open rather than backing away from it. eventually, it seems to reach a point where it has mellowed out—where prompto's own feelings don't feel like they're being drowned by the intensity of what clarke is presenting to him over her own feelings.]
[he raises his head, swallowing air like he hadn't been able to before, sniffling hard despite his best efforts to appear composed.]
Shit. That got me. [a shaky breath] Sorry.
[their chests still aglow, the proximity one that he isn't parting from just yet, but their feelings seeming to reach a point of more composed balance.]
It's okay. [Her voice is a little raspier than normal, rougher because of the tears. She pulls back from his shoulder, but maintains the close proximity. In the calm, she does feel calmer, more at peace with it. Caring about someone isn't hard for Clarke. The hard part is knowing what to do once she cares, because she cares and loves so fiercely once she does, unwilling to let go.
It's why being alone nearly broke her. Having no one and nothing to live for. It's why parts of being here is so hard, knowing that she may one day need to say goodbye to everyone. Knowing she my need to choose between this world and seeing her people again.
It's hard.]
If nothing else, the bond helps convey things better than words ever can. I'll try to warn you next time. [A weak smile, somewhat strained by the heaviness of the emotions, but still no less warm. She offers it to him.]
[prompto, who has never been so great with words or being outwards about his emotions. he offers a smile right back at clarke, his expression sheepish.]
I didn't realize you -- [ugh, it's a little embarrassing to even speak, even when their emotions were full on display, and even when prompto's cheeks are still wet from abruptly crying.] Felt like that about me.
[he knows it's not in a romantic sense, that much was clear from the empathy bond.]
I never imagined I could be cared for like that.
[is his conclusion. he doesn't know how they got to this point, but he's glad to have clarke in his life here in new amsterdam.]
Guess this means we've leveled up on friendship, right?
That's how I feel for my people. [It's a clear line that's being set. Once upon a time, she told Markus she wouldn't choose. The Displaced would all be her people. But it's not necessarily a world or a situation that works out that way.] Besides, there aren't a lot of people that I try to completely protect from the horrors of my world. You were special from the start. I guess you could say this was inevitable.
[Prompto's kindness is what did her in. Caring about him came easily. He had been thoroughly curious from the start, and then they talked. They grew. They bonded. They ate donuts together and Clarke never told him about all the stomach aches she got afterward, worried that he'd feel guilty about it in some way.
Now that she knows about his world and where he's come from, Clarke is even more certain that he needs to be loved. Protected. Viewed for who he is rather than who he came from.]
But hearing you talk just now. I knew I needed you to feel that. That's all.
[words like special was never an adjective that prompto had foreseen being used on him. he's never been anything special, anyone unique. but suppose that here, in new amsterdam, he gets to experience new flavors of his own worth.]
[without much thought, he wraps his arms around her. he wants to feel that again, that warm, caring, loving affection. he knows he is cared for, that his brothers in arms do love him for who he is, but it's never been so bare and out in the open for him to taste.]
Thank you.
[his sandwich forgotten, what will get through to clarke through their shared empathy is the determination now coursing through him, undeterred. as cliche as it sounds, validation and affection fuel him onwards.]
[Clarke's the type of person who hugs with every bit of herself, leaning into it and burying her face into his shoulder at the same time. The important thing is that Prompto gives her someone to love—just as Markus does. Just as other people in this world do. Clarke has always loved, always had that capacity, but she can't shake the loneliness and hollowness that came before. And perhaps it's better that she can't, because look at what she has now.
She inhales and exhales, smiling against him.]
We were thinking of watching something, right? Why don't we do that, and just ... stay close? [Remind the other that they're there. It's important.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Even though they talked in there, Clarke can't pretend that she fully understands. She doesn't.]
I don't know what that means. What you are. I mean ... [She huffs out a breath.] I saw what you could have been if you weren't saved, but I don't really—nothing like that exists in my world. Not like that, anyway.
[The Reapers are the closest, and they were strong men turned into cannibals, drugged and unthinking. They weren't really all that close at the end of the day.]
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It'd be great if nothing like it existed anywhere, honestly. It's just people suffering regardless.
[he smiles, mostly for himself, especially since it doesn't reach his eyes.]
After the dreams, I decided I wouldn't fear being found out anymore. I've gotta own it if I wanna be better, right? [he seems earnest, even if he's definitely fidgeting like someone who is nervous to reveal some deep-seated secret.] I wasn't born, I was created in a lab. The clone of a pretty brilliant scientist—I gotta give him that much, otherwise I wouldn't be as normal-looking as I am—but he went a little nuts towards the end, what I did see of him, anyway. He was part of the Empire that wanted to destroy Lucis, the place I was raised in. It's easy to feel out of place when I look like the enemy and later find out I'm the copy of the man that destroyed our home.
Part of me feels like I still got a long way to go before I can make up for it, for what he did, even if it wasn't my fault.
[it's something like survivor's guilt, it's something like a weird amalgamation of wanting to make things better and feeling frustration at who he is, originally.]
But, I'm human here. I'm not a clone nor a copy, and I just gotta — embrace that feeling, you know? I got lucky where thousands of others didn't. It might have been because of what happened in the dream, but I don't want to feel tied down by these feelings for the rest of my life.
So—thank you. For helping me.
no subject
Her views there were that she needed to help. Some part of her believed that it would help Prompto to know that he could help. Some part of her felt responsible. Even if Clarke isn't a doctor here or back home, she still has some of that mindset—that need to only do harm if the occasion calls for it. (Though some people would argue that even that version of it is only an interpretation and not how it should be seen at all. They wouldn't be wrong.)]
And ... you're welcome. But that first thing is important to know, because you're honestly one of the most affectionate and caring people I've ever met. You care, and you're interested, and you deserve—deserve to not by burdened by that. I know you feel better, but you still said it. And sometimes those things creep up when things get dark. I'll be here for you if it does, and I'll remind you again. [Even if he feels better, even if he won't want to be tied down—Clarke knows humans aren't that changeable. Or she thinks they aren't.
She does suddenly dig pancakes, after all.]
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[it's honest and vulnerable in many ways.]
I'll try to remember that.
[he says, feeling a swell of something warm inside.]
I always think of my faults, but... I'll do my best.
[it's not going to be easy, but it does help to know that others have his back.]
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She reaches out to grab his hand, fingers wrapping around it and holding it. The affection she feels for him is strong. Despite everything with Clarke—and there is a ton of things that can define that "everything," and most of them dark—when she loves someone and cares for them, she does it quickly and fiercely. Her friends mean the world to her, and that's why she's willing to hurt others for them. To take those new blemishes to her guilt complex in stride.
And what Prompto will feel in this moment is that fierce devotion and love, and something more solid, like an urge to protect him. To be there for him.] That's why we have people who matter. They remind us that there's more.
no subject
[this isn't something he's familiar with. neglectful foster parents; friendships formed over fragile, over-thinking that every wrong step would end it all; the runt of the litter, always trying to prove his worth; a creature created not out of love but for a want of power and destruction.]
[it blasts through his carefully self-knit defenses, to the point where tears spill and shoulders shake, keeping his face hidden away by his free hand, even if he's pretty much anchored to stay where he is.]
[thanks clarke, you've broken him.]
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And that—combined with the thrust of emotions—is what tips her off the edge. It doesn't take Clarke a lot to cry, but understanding that this hits Prompto so hard? There isn't a scenario where that doesn't make her cry, make her realize that this is something big. Something unspoken.
(Above all else, she believes that Prompto is one of the best of them. Much like how she would see Monty Green one day. He's the type of person who inspires someone to be better, just by being himself.)
She shifts closer, wrapping her free arm around him and holding him close, her face pressing lightly against his shoulder. It's a means of holding him. Somewhat awkward and intimate, but she's there. She's crying, sure, but she's there for him.]
no subject
[the feelings stretching between each other don't come to a halt, either, as clarke keeps the connection open rather than backing away from it. eventually, it seems to reach a point where it has mellowed out—where prompto's own feelings don't feel like they're being drowned by the intensity of what clarke is presenting to him over her own feelings.]
[he raises his head, swallowing air like he hadn't been able to before, sniffling hard despite his best efforts to appear composed.]
Shit. That got me. [a shaky breath] Sorry.
[their chests still aglow, the proximity one that he isn't parting from just yet, but their feelings seeming to reach a point of more composed balance.]
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It's why being alone nearly broke her. Having no one and nothing to live for. It's why parts of being here is so hard, knowing that she may one day need to say goodbye to everyone. Knowing she my need to choose between this world and seeing her people again.
It's hard.]
If nothing else, the bond helps convey things better than words ever can. I'll try to warn you next time. [A weak smile, somewhat strained by the heaviness of the emotions, but still no less warm. She offers it to him.]
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[prompto, who has never been so great with words or being outwards about his emotions. he offers a smile right back at clarke, his expression sheepish.]
I didn't realize you -- [ugh, it's a little embarrassing to even speak, even when their emotions were full on display, and even when prompto's cheeks are still wet from abruptly crying.] Felt like that about me.
[he knows it's not in a romantic sense, that much was clear from the empathy bond.]
I never imagined I could be cared for like that.
[is his conclusion. he doesn't know how they got to this point, but he's glad to have clarke in his life here in new amsterdam.]
Guess this means we've leveled up on friendship, right?
no subject
[Prompto's kindness is what did her in. Caring about him came easily. He had been thoroughly curious from the start, and then they talked. They grew. They bonded. They ate donuts together and Clarke never told him about all the stomach aches she got afterward, worried that he'd feel guilty about it in some way.
Now that she knows about his world and where he's come from, Clarke is even more certain that he needs to be loved. Protected. Viewed for who he is rather than who he came from.]
But hearing you talk just now. I knew I needed you to feel that. That's all.
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[without much thought, he wraps his arms around her. he wants to feel that again, that warm, caring, loving affection. he knows he is cared for, that his brothers in arms do love him for who he is, but it's never been so bare and out in the open for him to taste.]
Thank you.
[his sandwich forgotten, what will get through to clarke through their shared empathy is the determination now coursing through him, undeterred. as cliche as it sounds, validation and affection fuel him onwards.]
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She inhales and exhales, smiling against him.]
We were thinking of watching something, right? Why don't we do that, and just ... stay close? [Remind the other that they're there. It's important.]