[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}
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.]