And then suddenly a human dude with perfect hair

[keepcalmcookon]

As always, Ignis is the first one to wake up. He's used to the darkness at this time, having for so long not wished to wake up the others that so foolishly stayed up late. But it's different now.

For one, they have their own beds. And for the other, Ignis is blind--he's now always in the dark.

He doesn't bother to open his remaining eye; it can barely distinguish light from darkness, a distracting haze that just reminds him of his condition. Ignis lays there for a bit, orienting himself to the room he shares with Prompto. Also, perhaps a bit, hoping that it's all a horrible nightmare.

It isn't.

With the softest of sighs, Ignis brushes aside his covers and rises, doing his best to not wake Prompto as he slides out of bed. He remembers the way to the bathroom. That much, he can do. He'd even have a chance of making it undetected if he didn't have to search for his sunglasses to put them on immediately.

They're like a security blanket between him and the stares he cannot see. A security blanket that unfortunately scrapes against the nightstand they're on. He frowns in annoyance, but puts them on anyway.

Just in case someone other than Prompto comes in.

Comments

[cameracoded]

He had tried so hard, training by himself when he had the moments and giving it his all whenever they took the time to work with each other at havens. He struggles to keep focused, and while forcing himself doesn't actually help he'd do it anyway. A lot of his mistakes had been due as much to his own frustrations at himself as it was everyone else's.

It's been years since he's felt this bad, where the burn of tears hides just behind his eyes practically every waking moment. It never gets past that point. To him it's just another weight on the pile of things that no one is ever supposed to know.

"Something comfy!" He says as he deposits Iggy's bedclothes. Something from Ignis' more casual attire. Prompto is just as into maintaining his appearance as Iggy had been, they just have vastly different styles. So whenever he lays out something for Ignis to wear, he makes sure it's clean and pressed and fitting to how the advisor had always carried himself.

No one had asked him too, but he'd been increasing the 'difficulty' of what Ignis had to deal with to get dressed as he got stronger. He'd gone from sweats and pajamas to slacks and nicer shirts with zippers and buttons that need feeling around. Not a full on suit just yet, keeping the number of frustrations down for now.

"The soft, stripy shirt and black pants okay?" He left them in the same order he always does, but this time the belt isn't already run through his slacks.

[keepcalmcookon]

Something that would have been better left said. Ignis had noticed how hard Prompto had been working to improve, and how far he had come in such a short time, considering he lacked in years of training like the rest of them. While he was aware that their comments were hurtful and that tempers sometimes boiled over more than necessary, he did not understand the extent that it was harming Prompto. He certainly would have laid off of many of his own comments, and perhaps even provided his own training on the side as well as speaking to the others privately to knock the worst of it off.

Frustrations should never mean breaking another man down. It served none of them to do so. Also, Ignis was not a man for cruelty. But since it was left unsaid, understandably so....

The steadily increasing difficulty was something Ignis had both noticed and appreciated. He believed he could probably dress himself in his full attire, had he the mind for it. Surprisingly--he realizes he doesn't. Not yet. Everything was simply too much.

"That's fine," Ignis feels for the clothing, trying to confirm what Prompto said, and being pleased he can recognize it. "... thank you, Prompto."

He doesn't say it often in that way, short and direct. But sometimes it's just better. After all Prompto has done for him, he certainly deserves to hear it.

Ignis sits on the bed and starts with his socks.

[cameracoded]

It's hard for Prompto to speak up about things that bother him. He does on occasion, but usually when it's so obvious a joke that he can tell, or something that has to do about his appearance. That's something he can change if he really wanted to. Mostly. Him as a person?. That's much harder a thing to change. He'd tried to hard and so long to turn him into something he thought Noct would like (hell, that anyone would like) that the feeling of not being good enough is compounded by the fact that he already sees himself that way.

He never learned how to rely on people. It comes more naturally to just try and handle everything alone.

"N-no problem, dude! Any time!" He says, his smile in his words as he settles close by but on the other bed so Ignis has room, but he can be there quickly if needed. Sounds from his phone remain conspicuously silent, though his heel taps lightly on the floor.

"Did you want to try and walk all the way down to the water?" At least they don't have to try and navigate Altissian roadways.

[keepcalmcookon]

Prompto, you are a good person, and Ignis would let Gladio punch anyone that was mean to you outside of the group. That may or may not include your parents. Ignis had noticed that his parents weren't around much, but he didn't fully grasp how far it went into neglect until this journey. Out of all their losses, their deaths would not be so sad, Ignis allowed himself to think all of once. Except that Prompto still loved them, because of course he did.

The heal tapping helps him know where Prompto is, although he had heard the shifting easily enough as he sat down. "Yes."

A simple word with plenty of meaning; Ignis feels strong enough for it this time, finally.

[cameracoded]

Of course he loves his parents. Or at least, he had wanted to. He's been with them for nearly his entire life, but he barely got to know them, though it's not like he hadn't tried. He never called them his 'foster' parents because they're the only parents he'd ever known. Once upon a time when he was old enough to understand the difference between being fostered and being adopted, he used to dream and hope that they'd actually adopt him one day because that would mean he belonged somewhere.

Foster children don't belong. They just exist wherever they're put until they're put somewhere else.

That never happened either, but he never had the courage to ask why.

There's a sense that Prompto perks up at Iggy's response, his smile genuine. "Great! We could use some that sweet sea air."