When Ignis hears Prompto's voice, he flinches. The familiar voice should be calming, but it isn't. Instead, he can't help but think he's hallucinating. The last time he saw the blonde he was commandeering an Imperial flyer to help Noctis. If he is here, what does that mean for the Prince?
Ignis grits his teeth, turning his head when sand suddenly flies up and over him. Okay, it's hard to deny the over-enthusiastic nature as anything or anyone but Prompto. He raises his head, hissing when the blonde starts to move him into a sitting position. The healing wounds are one thing, but the sudden motion causes the world to spin around him. Ignis isn't sure how the world can spin when he can't even see it, but it does and it rapidly is causing nausea to rise in his stomach.
"Slowly. Slow..." His voice is shaky and raspy, hurting his own ears. Ignis wouldn't even be trying to talk at the moment if it wasn't for the fact he also doesn't want to throw up all over his friend.
Closer to a sitting position now, Ignis finds himself listing toward Prompto for support. He can hear Ardyn laughing, mocking his weakness and Ignis can't help but mock himself for the very same thing.
There's nothing he hates more than being helpless and that is exactly how he feels right now.
Taking a closer look at the advisor's face, Prompto will notice the wounds around his eyes look much fresher and more painful than he will remember them being. The top buttons of his shirt are open--one missing entirely--making it clear he was struggling with someone or something not long before he was brought here. There is blood staining his clothes, though it's hard to see it, dark red bleeding into wet dark blue.
When Ignis finally has the nausea under control, he speaks again one hand blindly reaching for the blonde. Once it finds his friend's arm, he wraps his fingers around it, clinging tighter than he will ever admit to, "Are you all right, Prompto?"
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Ignis grits his teeth, turning his head when sand suddenly flies up and over him. Okay, it's hard to deny the over-enthusiastic nature as anything or anyone but Prompto. He raises his head, hissing when the blonde starts to move him into a sitting position. The healing wounds are one thing, but the sudden motion causes the world to spin around him. Ignis isn't sure how the world can spin when he can't even see it, but it does and it rapidly is causing nausea to rise in his stomach.
"Slowly. Slow..." His voice is shaky and raspy, hurting his own ears. Ignis wouldn't even be trying to talk at the moment if it wasn't for the fact he also doesn't want to throw up all over his friend.
Closer to a sitting position now, Ignis finds himself listing toward Prompto for support. He can hear Ardyn laughing, mocking his weakness and Ignis can't help but mock himself for the very same thing.
There's nothing he hates more than being helpless and that is exactly how he feels right now.
Taking a closer look at the advisor's face, Prompto will notice the wounds around his eyes look much fresher and more painful than he will remember them being. The top buttons of his shirt are open--one missing entirely--making it clear he was struggling with someone or something not long before he was brought here. There is blood staining his clothes, though it's hard to see it, dark red bleeding into wet dark blue.
When Ignis finally has the nausea under control, he speaks again one hand blindly reaching for the blonde. Once it finds his friend's arm, he wraps his fingers around it, clinging tighter than he will ever admit to, "Are you all right, Prompto?"