Prompto gasps and spins around at the sudden change of location. Again. He doesn't quite fall into a panic this time but he's on edge, especially when he notices that he's glowing. He actually tries to rub at his arm like that would somehow do something to put out the light.
"W-what is happening? I can't take much more of this..."
the figure descending from the ceiling is dressed in a long trenchcoat made either of golden leather or cloth of gold, with long gloves and boots of the same material, and a porcelain mask that moves, but holds no expression. The voice is warm, curious, friendly, its inquiry both polite and genuine.
Prompto yelps at the voice, spinning to watch the strange person descend from the ceiling. It take a long moment for the belated realization to kick in as to whats going on. This must be the Arcana people warned him about, that were supposed to talk to him before everything happens.
"E-everything not making sense?" He says finally. "Wondering if I've completely lost my mind?"
"Because you can help," the figure says. "Because you care about such things. As we are, we are clumsy with linear time - we did not choose now as you think of it. But now can be flexible, when we are empowered, with your help."
"Because I care?" More than one person has told him about how they're supposed to be just game pieces, so he's a bit skeptical. "Of course I care, but I'm already fighting a war."
"And when you return, if I win, you will have my power to assist you in your war," the figure assures him. "There are those who, if they win, will make all wars, in all worlds, worse. I stand against them."
That seems to settle him some, though it's still a struggle to believe. He wants to though. It's better than the alternative.
"Y-you're the Sun, right?" At least that's what someone guessed his mark meant. He still doesn't understand the entire Tarot thing yet. "Our sun has been struggling to rise. I'm not sure it even can anymore." He bites his lip, nervously tapping steepled fingers together.
"If I triumph - and yes, I am the Sun - then empowering a sun to do its right work will be well within my power." The voice is confident, the answer prompt.
"Okay." He says after a moment, and he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. This is the sort of thing he used to dream about as a kid. He can handle this, right? "What do I have to do? How and I supposed to help?"
"I-I can do that!" Prompto perks up, trying to pick up on that energy even though he's still mostly frazzled. "I like to think I'm a little bit good at that kinda thing!"
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"W-what is happening? I can't take much more of this..."
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the figure descending from the ceiling is dressed in a long trenchcoat made either of golden leather or cloth of gold, with long gloves and boots of the same material, and a porcelain mask that moves, but holds no expression. The voice is warm, curious, friendly, its inquiry both polite and genuine.
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"E-everything not making sense?" He says finally. "Wondering if I've completely lost my mind?"
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"Y-you're the Sun, right?" At least that's what someone guessed his mark meant. He still doesn't understand the entire Tarot thing yet. "Our sun has been struggling to rise. I'm not sure it even can anymore." He bites his lip, nervously tapping steepled fingers together.
"Is that something you can fix?"
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