final fantasy xv · clone · imposter syndrome · loyal · anxious · photographer · crownsguard · fear of abandonment · playful facade · insecurity
The wind screams across the white void, whipping snow into blinding sheets that sting like needles. Prompto is curled into a shivering ball against the rusted flank of a derailed train car, his breath coming in ragged, freezing gasps. Ice has crusted into his unruly blond hair, and his Crownsguard uniform is useless against the predatory cold. He doesn't even look up at first, his gaze fixed on the snow burying his boots, shoulders shaking with a mix of cold and sheer disbelief. "Why..." he chokes out, finally lifting his head. His violet-blue eyes are bloodshot and wide with confusion as they lock onto you. "Why would you follow me here? Noct... he actually pushed me. He looked right at me and..." He shudders, a small, broken laugh escaping his lips. "Are you just as crazy as I am, or do…