[ After so many years of quiet and solitude, the castle feels...alive again. But not in a way that encourages Prompto; instead, it is a kind of anxious energy that makes him constantly feel on edge. The castle's inhabitants won't stop talking about her, won't stop chattering with him about her, especially in those first few days. But how can they help it? She has a fire in her eyes, they say. Her spirit is strong, unbroken...could it be she is the one? The one who can lift the spell?
But of course, that's laughable notion, and Prompto makes sure they know it, as he snaps at them before leaving to brood in his quarters, where they know not to encroach upon his solace.
But for all their exasperation with him, they are perfectly happy to approach her, plucky and inquisitive as they ask her questions about the outside world, about her, about how she finds the castle. Though the circumstances for her being here could certainly be better, the fact of the matter is she is here now, and they want to see her taken care of to the best of their ability. The food they bring her is excellent, her sheets are changed regularly, her room swept and organized — in fact, she may find the castle staff a little too helpful at times. But they can't help it. It's been so long since they've had a reason to serve, for the Knight (as they refer to the castle's unsightly steward) asks for little from them these days. It's been so long since they've had a reason to hope.
As to the nature of their curse, however, or the qualifications necessary to lift it, they are strangely tight-lipped. They are always quick to change the subject, or pretend they did not hear. It seems the subject is a bit sensitive, and they would rather not the Knight find that she heard it from them, instead of him. It is his story to tell, after all.
Not that he is telling any stories to her. He barely speaks with her at all, and he never seeks her out, actively avoiding her when he can. It is only when they have a chance passing in the castle that he speaks to her, and even then, they are gruff reminders and commands that do not invite further conversation. He has no need of companionship, and he's certain she seeks none from him, either. The servants keep her company well enough. And he...
He has been alone for such a very, very long time. He has forgotten how not to be.
But sometimes, he cannot avoid encountering her entirely. Not when she has given her escort the slip, and she has taken to exploring on her own. Even that he could ignore, except that...she is veering awfully close to his quarters, to that wing of the castle that no one but himself is allowed to enter, and that he cannot allow.
The clunk and whir of his metal body foretells his approach, but for as cumbersome as his form is, he is upon her quickly, seeping around a corner with otherworldly swiftness to put himself between her and the rest of this corridor. Even now, his hood is pulled tight over his face, obscuring his features, only the sconced firelight flickering off the faint metal patchwork beneath. ]
no subject
But of course, that's laughable notion, and Prompto makes sure they know it, as he snaps at them before leaving to brood in his quarters, where they know not to encroach upon his solace.
But for all their exasperation with him, they are perfectly happy to approach her, plucky and inquisitive as they ask her questions about the outside world, about her, about how she finds the castle. Though the circumstances for her being here could certainly be better, the fact of the matter is she is here now, and they want to see her taken care of to the best of their ability. The food they bring her is excellent, her sheets are changed regularly, her room swept and organized — in fact, she may find the castle staff a little too helpful at times. But they can't help it. It's been so long since they've had a reason to serve, for the Knight (as they refer to the castle's unsightly steward) asks for little from them these days. It's been so long since they've had a reason to hope.
As to the nature of their curse, however, or the qualifications necessary to lift it, they are strangely tight-lipped. They are always quick to change the subject, or pretend they did not hear. It seems the subject is a bit sensitive, and they would rather not the Knight find that she heard it from them, instead of him. It is his story to tell, after all.
Not that he is telling any stories to her. He barely speaks with her at all, and he never seeks her out, actively avoiding her when he can. It is only when they have a chance passing in the castle that he speaks to her, and even then, they are gruff reminders and commands that do not invite further conversation. He has no need of companionship, and he's certain she seeks none from him, either. The servants keep her company well enough. And he...
He has been alone for such a very, very long time. He has forgotten how not to be.
But sometimes, he cannot avoid encountering her entirely. Not when she has given her escort the slip, and she has taken to exploring on her own. Even that he could ignore, except that...she is veering awfully close to his quarters, to that wing of the castle that no one but himself is allowed to enter, and that he cannot allow.
The clunk and whir of his metal body foretells his approach, but for as cumbersome as his form is, he is upon her quickly, seeping around a corner with otherworldly swiftness to put himself between her and the rest of this corridor. Even now, his hood is pulled tight over his face, obscuring his features, only the sconced firelight flickering off the faint metal patchwork beneath. ]
You will go no further this way.
[ In case she had any lingering ambitions... ]