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[ being in insomnia again is.. strange. the city is the same as she had remembered, and yet so different, so strange after so many long years in tenebrae. this city seems so enormous and sprawling, sharp and stark in comparison, bright and chrome and full of people. though she remembers her time here, her earliest years, she was still quite young when her parents swept she and her brother back to the motherland, and those tender years of growth had been spent in a city very different, a home that she had grown used to, settled into.
and now they are here again, political tensions spurring her father to emigrate here, to lucis again. the empire has been still and quiet, and there have even been talks of treatise, but alisaie trusts her father's judgment, for all his political involvement. more than national pride, he hopes for his family to be safe and secure, and short of living in the bush, insomnia had seemed to him the ideal location. with the wall so strong, such a city must be impenetrable, yes?
alisaie does not know the details of it all, her father would disclose only so much - she and her brother were to focus solely on their studies, bettering themselves, and not to worry about such things outside of their control. lucis might not be a large nation, but insomnia is safe, and secure. it suits their needs just fine.
still, settling in, for alisaie, is not necessarily easy. unlike the rest of her family, smooth-talkers with political savvy, she has a hard enough time simply getting along with her own peers. her friends in tenebrae had been few and distant, their relationships thin and civil but little more. to have to start over again is.. a nightmare. but she is not here to make friends, she is here to finish her schooling, to graduate and prepare for university and beyond. there's nothing to be afraid of.
yet her knuckles are white around the books clutched to her chest as she climbs the stairs that first day, eyes forward, chin high, and it takes less than a week's time for her to earn a reputation as a haughty, conceited little snob, the little rich girl sort who is far too good to waste her time with those she deems beneath her - everyone, apparently. this is not entirely the case of course, but it suits alisaie's needs just fine. let them think what they want, so long as it affords her a wide berth and quiet time to herself, without the terrifying distraction of working her way into, and maintaining her place within, a social circle.
the weekend seems to take an eon to arrive, but friday is here at last. alisaie sits outside at a table on campus, alone, peeling the crusts distractedly from her sandwich, her advanced chemistry textbook open in front of her. three afternoon classes, and this horrible week will be over.. ]
and now they are here again, political tensions spurring her father to emigrate here, to lucis again. the empire has been still and quiet, and there have even been talks of treatise, but alisaie trusts her father's judgment, for all his political involvement. more than national pride, he hopes for his family to be safe and secure, and short of living in the bush, insomnia had seemed to him the ideal location. with the wall so strong, such a city must be impenetrable, yes?
alisaie does not know the details of it all, her father would disclose only so much - she and her brother were to focus solely on their studies, bettering themselves, and not to worry about such things outside of their control. lucis might not be a large nation, but insomnia is safe, and secure. it suits their needs just fine.
still, settling in, for alisaie, is not necessarily easy. unlike the rest of her family, smooth-talkers with political savvy, she has a hard enough time simply getting along with her own peers. her friends in tenebrae had been few and distant, their relationships thin and civil but little more. to have to start over again is.. a nightmare. but she is not here to make friends, she is here to finish her schooling, to graduate and prepare for university and beyond. there's nothing to be afraid of.
yet her knuckles are white around the books clutched to her chest as she climbs the stairs that first day, eyes forward, chin high, and it takes less than a week's time for her to earn a reputation as a haughty, conceited little snob, the little rich girl sort who is far too good to waste her time with those she deems beneath her - everyone, apparently. this is not entirely the case of course, but it suits alisaie's needs just fine. let them think what they want, so long as it affords her a wide berth and quiet time to herself, without the terrifying distraction of working her way into, and maintaining her place within, a social circle.
the weekend seems to take an eon to arrive, but friday is here at last. alisaie sits outside at a table on campus, alone, peeling the crusts distractedly from her sandwich, her advanced chemistry textbook open in front of her. three afternoon classes, and this horrible week will be over.. ]
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Are you saying he is not entitled, or spoiled? He is royalty. I've spent my entire life around nobility, I do not have to know him to see his behavior.
[ oh he gettin' mad, which is fair, but it does little enough to quell the fire in her belly, that twists in her heart. were she a better person she might bite her tongue and apologize, do exactly what that noble upbringing has taught her, to be demure and quiet and passive, to relent. but she has never been that sort of person, which is.. exactly why she has no friends. she has always isolated herself. there are none who can tolerate her sharp tongue.
not even him. somehow, it cuts more deeply than she expected. when they had met again on campus she had dared to hope that.. that perhaps she might make a friend at last, that somehow.. but no. it's so hard to believe him, and even harder to control her own thoughts and opinions. tears flood her eyes, stinging and hot, blurring her vision and she turns away with a sharp sniff, ashamed and afraid and angry all at once. her arms cross tightly over her chest and she looks pointedly away, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to keep her tears at bay. ]
Forget it. Clearly t-too much has changed.
no subject
Maybe he is. Heh - maybe you're dead right about him. All I know is he's the only person who even gave me a chance since you left.
[ And to think, for a few short days, he thought maybe he could count her as a friend once again. Foolish, apparently, just as is everything he does. His entire existence. That's why he's the jokester. An incurable class clown. Good for a laugh, and not much else.
He scrubs at his eyes with his heel before he pulls out his phone. After a few sharp motions, he tosses it to her. Catch. ]
There's the three of us at the arcade. Lemme guess - I made that up pic, too, huh? Juuust like the rest of it. 'Cause I'm a biiiig, fat fraud.
[ The worst part is, he is.
Just not in the way she thinks. ]
no subject
considering she's, you know, not looking anywhere even remotely in his direction, the tossed phone bounces against her arm and tumbles onto the mulch between her feet. the dry sarcasm in his voice is hardly a good incentive, nor does it help to clear her impression of him, but still her curiosity is strong. after a few sharp, trembling breaths to compose herself she casts a glance down, and bends to lift his phone off of the ground.
the picture is quite evident, the three of them together, the boy who had fallen looking none the worse for wear, laughing, enjoying himself. alisaie stares at it for several long moments, her stomach twisting up tightly, before she at last sets it down again on the tire between them.
she is not ashamed of her assumptions. to observe and draw conclusions is only natural, and those things she had seen him do - it is not his fault that she caught him at, apparently, completely inopportune times, but neither is it her fault. she certainly didn't stop to consider the bully's feelings when she caught them tormenting prompto that day so long ago. it's only their poor luck that is to blame.
nevertheless, that luck has certainly dashed what hopes she'd had at making a friend.
drawing her hand back again, alisaie tugs her canvas bag closer. it's getting dark, and cold, and no doubt he wants to get away. she certainly does. so as she speaks quietly, softly, she pulls her bag over her shoulder. ]
I'm sorry.
no subject
He doesn't want to hear her apology. He wants to run - away, now, in his heart aching and broken. He doesn't - not yet. Instead, he stoops to pick up his phone, brushing off the dirt and bark before dropping it back into her pocket. ]
...Yeah. Me, too.
[ Why had she even agreed to meet him here if she was so determined not to believe him? And yet that she does now hardly feels like a victory. He feels hollow and raw. Those ugly parts of himself so swiftly uncovered by her. His insecurity, his anxiety, his fear - she'd tapped into them all without even realizing it.
The sharp edge is gone from his voice now, replaced with something far more sorrowful, the sound of tears heavy in his mouth. ]
...All I wanted was to be your friend, Alisaie. You...never stopped meaning the world to me.
[ And he turns to go. ]
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what a way to come together again.
only once he's turned away can she look to him again, her throat tight and her eyes still stinging, though she has pulled herself together. ]
N-no, wait..
[ before he can complete his sad walking away scene, alisaie reaches out to snag his hand with her own before she can think better of it, or even think about it at all. her grasp is tight, and sure. ]
I.. I just - I've not had friends. Not before you, and not since. I'm not good with.. with people. I don't..
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It will hurt, but what can he do but face it? There's nothing to salvage here.
At least, that's what he thinks until she takes his hand.
His heart jumps into his throat, beating heart, and he turns back quickly, a gasp of quiet surprise slipping out of him. ]
You're...not the only one.
[ And he turns his hand in hers, twisting until their palms kiss, and he can wind his fingers tight around hers and squeeze. For such a small gesture, it says so very much, especially coming from her, and he can't help but feel as if she's thrown him a life preserver, to reel him back in from being lost at sea. ]
Can we...start over? Y'know...a do-over?
no subject
his hand turns in hers, their fingers knitting, and she can't help the tremulous smile on her face. ]
I'd like that.
[ and to drive it home, she gives his hand a gentle squeeze with her own, for reassurance, and support. she won't mess up this chance again, this opportunity to rekindle something she'd lost, one of the only warm memories in her past that she can call back on. this time, she won't lose it. ]
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[ And really, he is. They've both been stupid, but he's ready to forget about it entirely, to put this in the past, and just...start anew, Prompto and Alisaie, childhood friends rekindling at last. With the luck they've had, maybe the gods have seen it fit to keep them apart, but despite that, they've found a way through.
He lets go of her hand, only so he can slowly, carefully, pull her into a gentle hug. ]
So...can we hang out this weekend? For real this time? Just aheads up - I might be involved in more drama practice.
[ Okay, he has to tease her about it a little. ]
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well, she hadn't been expecting it, but perhaps she should have. prompto was such a shy boy, she could never have imagined him being brave enough to hug her, having done it only the once, on the day she had moved. he seems no less shy now than he has ever been, but his fond sweetness must have momentarily overridden it. still, she's flustered!! her cheeks and ears glow a soft pink when she pulls back, but she's smiling.
ahem. ]
I see no reason why I would need to be involved in your dramatics.
[ stop teasing her!! ]
But.. tomorrow, then?
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As his nerves are temporarily abated, as he pulls back, it's easy to nod, to nearly fall over himself doing so. ]
You got it. Tomorrow it is. Gonna have the time of our lives, gurl!
[ He can hardly wait. ]