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Turns out that the apocalypse makes even simple things hard. Travelling sucks when you can run into daemons any time, and everything is more dangerous when you can't slam potions like they're cheap shots. And without phoenix down, the possibility of dying is suddenly a terrifying reality.
The possibility of someone else dying — the people Prompto cares about — is a terrifying reality.
Also, it's dark. Prompto has his flashlight dimmed enough that he can just about see but isn't likely to bring down every daemon in the place on him, and the darkness with the wildly swinging shadows as he moves only contributes to the horror-movie atmosphere. He'd thought he'd have got used to the dark by now, years after the sun set and didn't rise, but he's not.
'Iggy?' He says it as loud as he dares. This place is crawling with daemons. This place being an old, creepy ruin in the thick forest to the west of the Myrlwood, which is somehow even worse than the Myrlwood, though maybe it just feels that way because he's alone. It's humid, raining, and cold, and Prompto has long given up trying to keep dry. The ground is thick mud, except where it's puddles of water over thick mud, or tangles of roots that catch his feet and trip him up. He has no idea how Ignis has got this far into this place, except who's he kidding? Ignis works on sheer bullheaded determination. Of course he'd manage to get out here.
Getting back, though… that's why Prompto's here. He'd meant to go with Ignis in the first place, but he hadn't been able to leave his previous job escorting a shipment out of Niflheim. They'd had medical supplies. (He'd kinda hoped he'd get a few things when they reached Lestallum, but they'd taken everything to the hospital.) He still felt bad about not being there when Ignis had left, but he tells himself Ignis should've just been patient and waited.
Now he just has to find Ignis. In the dark. Among all these trees and ruins and mud. And daemons.
Ignis had told him he was looking for something in the ruins, which was a start. He's found the ruins, though they're mostly just the old shells and foundations of buildings, nothing like the underwater ruins by the Vesperpool. He'd tried to phone Ignis, but hadn't got through — which isn't surprising, but it's still annoying, and stressful. Prompto's mind loves to imagine all sorts of worst case scenarios.
The gross green light that floats around lich glimmers off in the distance. Prompto's skin crawls. There's something large and slow crashing through the undergrowth somewhere to Prompto's right — probably some kind of flan. Ignis would know which kind hangs around here.
It's not hard to avoid both flan and lich, but he almost runs right into a second flan — a crème brûlée, he's pretty sure — that had been sitting, squatting in a wet hollow among the tree roots. Prompto backs up rapidly, before it can turn and crawl out of its hole. Ugh. This place freaking sucks. And he still hasn't found Ignis.
'Iggy!' His stage whisper is probably useless, but he doesn't know how else he's meant to find Ignis. It's not like Ignis will have his light on, or be able to see Prompto's.
It's been years, but there's still some part of him that thinks that if he just waits a few hours, hunkers down and sleeps, the sun will come up. He pushes through it.
It takes hours of stumbling around and searching before he gets any closer to finding Ignis, closer being that he finds stairs doing down, and he can just about make out footprints in the mud on the stairs, though they're being washed away by water trickling down into the depths. So Ignis went down already; what else can Prompto do but follow him?
It'll be nice being out of the woods, where anything can jump him from above, or the sides, and the floor (at least on the stairs) is mostly smooth stone instead of mud and roots. And it's a relief being out of the rain, which was getting heavier, so he can justify finding a corner that seems relatively safe and stripping so he can throw on fresh, dry clothes. And it's not like it's any darker, or there are any more daemons down here than there are up there.
He still doesn't like it. Up on the surface at least he'd had the chance to run away from anything. Now there's only forward and back and it's way, way too easy to be trapped, or be crushed if the tunnel collapses, or get lost and never find his way out again. The pressure from all the rock and mud and trees above him is almost unbearable. He hates stupid underground ruins. And the stairs. Why are there always so many stairs? It reminds him of that place under the Vesperpool — except this is even more upstairs and downstairs and walkways over rooms he'd just been in, and walkways over the walkways...
Whatever. He just needs to find Ignis, help him with whatever he's doing, and get the both of them the hell out of here.
It's not muddy any more, which means he can't track Ignis by his footprints. The floor is wet, though. Not exactly surprising, given what it's like above, but hadn't Solheim tech-slash-magic kept the water out from that ruin beneath the Vesperpool? Maybe it's broken here.
He skirts around some skeletons and manages to take out a couple of crème brûlées where they were lurking on the floor below his, visible over a walkway. Ignis should have heard his gun if he's anywhere close. And he better be close. The longer they're down here, the more likely they are to run into something really dangerous, like a giant.
It's about an hour and two close calls with daemons later when Prompto thinks he hears something. For a second, he wonders if he's imagining it. He stops to listen and is rewarded with Ignis' voice echoing down the hallway, calling his name.
Prompto ends up running to meet him, like a dork, but he's so relieved he doesn't care. It's stupid but he's only realising how frightened he'd been now he knows Ignis is actually okay, and Prompto hadn't left him to go die alone in a miserable, wet daemon pit. His heart is still racing when he grabs Ignis and pulls him into a one-armed hug, slapping him on the back; Ignis stumbles, and Prompto thinks: no, Ignis isn't actually okay after all.
They find some dry-ish rubble in an empty room; Prompto is ready to kick up a fuss and insist they go sit down, but it's not needed. Ignis goes way too meekly, in Prompto's opinion. Prompto turns his light up, even though he's afraid of what he'll see. Ignis looks terrible — blood smeared on his face, clothes crunchy with dried mud, but he doesn't seem to be actively bleeding out, or otherwise dying. He's pale, and he sways gently, even when sitting. His good eye is unfocused, only just managing to look Prompto's general direction. 'I'm fine,' Ignis says, though it's clearly bullshit. Then, a little ashamedly: 'I had a run-in with a lich's poison. I'll be better after a good rest.'
'You took an antidote, right?'
'I managed to cook up a cure,' Ignis says, which means that he was suffering the poison for at least as long as it took to kill or escape the lich, find somewhere safe, and prepare and eat food that he could imbue with his own magic, instead of just taking an antidote. Which they had — well, not loads of, but some. They still have them.
'Uh, and that was the better plan, because…'
Ignis turns his head to face Prompto, but direction of his eye is way off. It makes Prompto uncomfortable, which makes him feel bad, hot and guilty. Ignis is so good at hiding the fact he's blind, Prompto sometimes forgets he is.
'Now that Noct isn't here, we can't afford to waste our curatives.' The way he's saying it makes Prompto both sad and frustrated.
'We can't afford to waste our royal advisor, either,' he says. Plus, he can't really think of a worse nightmare than Noct coming back and having to tell him Ignis didn't make it.
Ignis doesn't have any comeback to that, which doesn't exactly make Prompto feel better. He braces himself with his elbows on his knees, head lowered. 'I appreciate you coming down here for me,' he says, finally. 'Thank you.' His voice has turned softer, quieter, and Prompto doesn't know what to do with that.
'No worries, Igster,' he says. 'Nothing you wouldn't do for me, right?'
Ignis' head is still down, like he's staring at the floor. 'Indeed,' he says, and then even though it had felt he'd been about to say more, he doesn't, until finally he lifts his head and gestures towards the door. 'Shall we head out? Unless you found a haven we might stop off at.'
'Nope. Let's get outta this place.'
Prompto doesn't ask if Ignis will wants to come back in after resting. With his luck, as soon as he mentions it, Ignis will want to stay down here. But Ignis follows, and accepts a hand on his arm when there's rubble or broken floor or daemons they needed to find a way around. With the both of them in good form they'd probably be able to take on most things down here, but not with Ignis flagging like this. Not worth the risk.
The floor had always been wet, but as they head back to the exit, Prompto has a bad feeling it's getting more wet. A thin layer of water is running off the stairs, down the walls, making everything shine with his flashlight. Then the floor isn't just wet, it's under a couple centimetres of water, opaque brown with mud.
'Was it raining?' Ignis asks, like he's talking about whether to bring his umbrella.
'Yeah,' Prompto says, and has a really, really bad feeling in his gut, which only gets worse as they keep walking.
They don't get far — there's one spot with a broken walkway that Prompto had had to go down to the hall below then back up the stairs on the other side to pass, and now the hall is underwater. How the hell had it filled up so quickly? It'd been, what, an hour and a half max? Prompto can't even see the top of the doorway where the stairs are. Water is dripping from the ceiling as hard as the rain was outside.
Ignis stops beside him. 'Problem?' he asks. The whole place has to be endless water sound effects for him, with bonus echo. No wonder he's hanging back and following instead of walking up beside Prompto.
'Ye-eah,' Prompto says. 'Don't think we'll be able to get through this way. Unless you're up for a bit of spelunking.'
Ignis wipes his face where a drip landed on him. 'As I remember, this is the fastest way out.'
Prompto has to stop to think, but no, Ignis is right. He squints at the broken walkway, hoping it'll fix itself like in the Vesperpool ruins, but it stays stubbornly broken. 'Maybe if we just take it slowly? Doesn't look like there's a strong current…'
In theory they only need to swim in and out of each stairway, underwater for maybe a few seconds, and it'll be gross but doable. They go down the stairs, and Prompto is staring at the water surface, milky coffee coloured, trying to figure out if it'd be better if they tied themselves together or went separately, and the fact that Ignis is staying silent and not offering suggestions is awful.
'Do you think we should tie ourselves together?' Prompto is saying, when he sees something move under the water. Its barely visible, but he recognises the violent pink-orange colour and blobby outline fast enough to jerk back, and then the flan is gone, deeper underwater.
Ignis already has his daggers out, but Prompto grabs him by the arm and yanks him back up the stairs. 'Nope,' he's saying. 'Nope, not today.'
'What was it?' Ignis asks, and he stumbles up the last couple of steps, only just managing to catch himself before he falls.
'Flan, the icky orange type,' Prompto says, staring back down the stairs. 'It's in the water.'
'Crème brûlée,' Ignis offers, tiredly. 'I take it you can't see it from above?' He gestures to the side of the walkway.
'Not any more. It's basically just mud water.' Now the panic is over, Prompto wishes it hadn't gone back into the water. They could have taken a single flan on, out in the open. Keep their distance and chip away at it with Ignis enchanting their weapons. But there's no way they're going to be able to swim with it lurking underwater, and it might not be possible to lure it out of the water. And what if there's more than one? Flan usually come in groups. They could kill one and then be ambushed by another still in there.
'I suppose we'll have to find another way out. And we'd better hurry, lest the water get much higher.'
It hadn't occurred to Prompto, until then, that the water would rise any higher. Somehow he'd just assumed this was the worst of their problems. Wow, was he stupid.
'Are there any other ways out? I only know the one we came in.'
'There's at least one more, though I can't guarantee it's not also impassable.'
'Okay, well—' Prompto hesitates. He hates making this kind of decision. What if he's wrong? What if he's being an idiot and gets them both killed? '—guess we gotta hope it's not, then. You'll have to lead us, though.'
'I shall be glad to.'
They leave; Prompto wishes he could jog, but he doesn't think Ignis would be up to it. Not with the wet floors and steps and broken rock lying about everywhere. They finish off a group of skeletons, thankfully without any necromancer nearby, and a couple of reapers. It's easy enough, but Prompto feels bad for keeping back and shooting from a distance. It's better he does, because he doesn't get in Ignis' way, and he can kill things faster long range, but it also means Ignis is left to take the majority of the daemons' attacks, and Ignis is already hurt.
With Ignis' daggers enchanted with fire for the reapers, ice for the skeletons, the light thrown off them reflects on the wet rock, walls and ceiling and floor. It's partially mesmerising, beautiful, and partly terrifying, because Prompto is half certain he's about to accidentally shoot Ignis. He doesn't though; he shouts to warn Ignis of impending attacks, and Ignis nearly always manages to understand and dodge in time.
When had they got so synced in battle?
They run to avoid the flans, because without Noct they'd take forever to finish off, except two that bubble out of the corridor right as they're passing and corner them. Ignis keeps them occupied and avoids their attacks in the front, Prompto hangs back and provides the majority of the DPS. And Ignis can still heal his injuries with his magic, it's just the poison means he can't heal fully.
When they finally get going again, Ignis has to pause to think a couple of times — left or right, the stairs or straight on — and with the water on the floor and the darkness hanging over them, Prompto is getting nervous, panicky. What if they get trapped down here, and the water doesn't recede for weeks? What if keeps getting higher and higher until they drown? What if all the water destabilises the rocks above them and the whole ruin comes crashing down? But rushing Ignis isn't going to help, he tells himself. If anything, rushing Ignis would lead to them getting lost and never finding the way out.
The urge still itches in his fingers, makes him want to pace, hold Ignis' arm so he can hurry him along just a little bit more.
Water drips on his head, down the back of his neck. Water puddles up from cracks in the floor. They're ambushed by a lich and three flans, and the fight is agonisingly slow as they back up and up to avoid getting surrounded, and pick off the daemons one by one. Ignis is unusually aggressive, keeping the daemon's attention on him; it makes sense, in that it gives Prompto room to shoot, which means the fight ends sooner, but he still winces every time Ignis gets knocked about. Ignis knows battle strategy best, but… it seems kinda reckless. It's working, though.
It works, until it doesn’t. Ignis is caught by the lich's noxious vapour. He coughs and gags, and the lich phases out and back in again; Prompto shouts as it lunges, but distracted and disorientated, Ignis doesn't know where it's coming from. He dodges in the wrong direction.
He's thrown back, blood splattering from the long wounds torn in his chest and arms. Prompto blasts the remaining flan with gravity well, which yanks the lich back as well, and he slams Ignis with an antidote as he pulls him to his feet. He has a potion in hand, but Ignis shakes his head, and his healing magic washes over the both of them. Prompto feels better immediately, but it clearly does shit for Ignis, though — he's still bleeding, and he's limping heavily as they back away from the daemons. The poison — it drained him, stopping him from healing even as much as he had been. Fuck. Fuck. And they don't have any elixirs left. Haven't for ages now.
Then things get even worse.
They're backing onto the edge of a broken walkway, which hangs over a flooded room beneath them. The slabs of the floor start to shift under them; Ignis shoves Prompto towards solid ground, who only just catches himself before he falls on his face. He rolls over and turns just in time to see Ignis, clinging to the new edge of the walkway, like in a cheesy movie. The walkway crumbles further; Ignis falls into the water below.
Prompto remembers the daemons a split second later, but only when the flan lurches into his vision. He backs up — closer to the wall, where he's not going to get dunked as well — and shoots, and shoots, and backs up, and shoots—
It takes forever to kill the daemons. Ten minutes? Twenty? Prompto can't tell. He's so fucking useless. He's is all the way two chambers over by the time the last dissolves away, and he runs back half expecting a new set of daemons to be waiting for him. To look down into the water and not see anything but mud.
Ignis is treading water, but only barely. His breathing is sharp and panicky as he runs his hands over the walls, trying to find a way out. The way out is underwater.
'Iggy! Iggy!' It takes multiple tries to get Ignis' attention. Ignis turns; his head dips below the water. He splutters as he surfaces.
What should he do? Does he have a rope he can haul Ignis up with? Could Ignis even find a rope, let alone hold on to it? He could jump down and find the exit himself, and lead Ignis out, but probably having both of them down in the water will be a bad idea. Can he guide Ignis by shouting down instructions? He's panicking. What should he do? What would Ignis do?
Ignis would have pushed him away so he wouldn't have fallen in in the first place.
There has to be something in the armiger — the air mattress — no, that'll take forever to inflate — what else? Ignis is turning his head like he's trying to look for Prompto. He slips under again, surfacing a second later with a gasp.
Prompto grabs the big water jug, the barrel-shaped one, and pours out the water. 'Just one sec,' he shouts to Ignis, though he doesn't know if he hears him. Why is the water taking so long to empty? He screws the lid back on with shaking hands, ties a rope around the handle, and throws it down into the water. Not so close he'll risk hitting Ignis with it, but close enough he hopes Ignis will hear it and know where it is.
'Iggy! I threw down a thing, the water jug — it floats, can you grab it?'
Ignis flounders towards the jug and grapples with it. It rolls from him, bouncing in the water, and Prompto, stuck up on the walkway, has to fight the absurd urge to throw Ignis his end of the rope as well.
It takes an agonising minute, but Ignis finally finds the handle of the jug and manages to haul himself up so his upper body is supported. He's still gasping for air, and a couple of times the jug rolls out from under him and he's dunked, but he keeps his grip. Prompto ties the rope to a pillar, and then another pillar, just to be safe, and slowly starts to winch Ignis in, dragging him through the water.
'Iggy? I don't think I can lift you up,' he calls down, which is a lie: he knows he can't. There's no way he can pull Ignis up. But he doesn't think Ignis can climb up on his own, either. Where was Gladio when you needed him?
'Is there thicker rope? Tie knots… 50 centimetre intervals. I'll be able to climb it.'
Ignis sounds exhausted. He looks barely alive, clinging to the bottle, hair plastered to his pale face. But he hangs on while Prompto fucks around with a second length of rope, and he grasps it when Prompto tosses it down to him, and slowly, painstakingly, climbs up and out onto the walkway. He doesn't make it to his feet, but crawls to the wall, collapses and lies there, shuddering with each rasping breath.
He's icy cold to the touch. Prompto grabs a towel and kneels, trying to dry him off, but he can't do shit when Ignis is lying in the centimetres of water. It's not like there's anywhere dry to move him to. Blood soaks into the towel. Ignis' skin is pale, bruise coloured around his good eye, scars inflamed and sore looking around his bad one. Before Prompto can do anything other than uselessly pat at his face and hands with the towel, Ignis pushes himself up on his elbows and hauls himself to kneeling. His arms tremble.
Ignis' head is drooping, but he turns to Prompto. It's testament to how shit he has to be feeling that he misses Prompto entirely when he puts out a hand — reaching for Prompto's shoulder? His arm? Prompto grasps it, and Ignis corrects the direction he's turned in, runs both his hands down Prompto's arms, patting across his chest and shoulders. 'Are you well?' he asks, and it takes Prompto a second to even get what he's saying.
'Uh, duh,' he says, before he can stop himself. 'Dude, you're the one who took literally all the hits.'
Ignis' fingers trace up his neck, over his scalp, gentle. 'It's not that I don't trust you,' he says. Prompto would tease him, but something in his voice stops him. Ignis sounds… desperate, in a low-key kind of way.
'Seriously,' Prompto says. 'I'm okay, Iggy. I was keeping back to shoot. They never even touched me.'
Ignis nods, but hesitates a moment longer before dropping his hands. 'I am glad,' he says, and smiles. He's exhausted; the smile is tender, and sad, and Prompto can't bear to look at it more than a moment.
'And I'm glad you're… well, you made it, right? That's the important thing. Live to fight another day.'
'Quite.' Ignis swipes wet hair from his face, and, before Prompto can stop him, pushes himself to standing.
'Whoa,' Prompto says, hands hovering uselessly. 'Maybe we should rest a bit longer?'
'No time,' Ignis says, and coughs, violent, shaking his whole body. 'The water is coming in too fast.'
Oh, yeah. That. Prompto should say they can wait, even a little, but he doesn't. He feels stupid guilty about it, because what Ignis needs right now is to rest — an actual, proper rest — but Ignis is right, too, about the water. Glancing back at the pool in the room below, he's sure it's risen since he last looked. And also what's the bet more daemons will come if they hang around in one spot too long?
'How far is it? To the way out?'
'Not far,' Ignis says, which Prompto is pretty sure doesn't actually mean anything. He's been burnt by Ignis' not far before.
'Maybe a little rest?' he says, but Ignis just starts walking, slow and limping, and Prompto can't do anything except grab his arm and help him not keel over.
He has a terrible feeling he's letting Ignis kill himself, but doesn't know how to make him stop. Not when they really do need to get the hell out.
Some shitty friend he is.
He thinks, as Ignis stumbles, that if he were Gladio he could carry Ignis. Or not be stuck in this mess in the first place. He'd have come prepared, somehow. He gets Ignis to tell him the way out, even writes it down, but that's only in case Ignis forgets or something. He's not going to leave Ignis down here.
Prompto can't carry him, but he can shove himself up against Ignis' side and pull Ignis' arm over his shoulder, taking a little of his weight. Ignis flinches but accepts it without comment, which just proves how fucked up he is. Fucked how how Prompto hadn't done it earlier.
They walk down a small flight of stairs and have to wade through waist-deep water before they can go up again. Water keeps dripping from the ceiling down Prompto's neck, on his face. He's almost as soaked as Ignis is. Ignis' breath is short and ragged, like he can't catch his breath. He's barely managing to pick up his feet, bad enough when it's more or less solid ground, worse when they have to wade. His face is drawn in pain. He's cold to the touch.
Going by Ignis' directions, they're almost out — just through a hall, the left exit, then up the stairs. Prompto tells Ignis this, and doesn't mention that they still need to get to a haven once outside, but that's a problem for future Prompto. (And future Ignis, but he doesn't need to think about that now.) Then they get to the hall and find it has both an iron giant and water up to Prompto's hips.
He's not surprised-surprised, and disappointed is the wrong word, but he is… tired and afraid Ignis is going to be hurt, or worse. Why can't life just be easy, for once? What is this bullshit? They're so close to getting out, and now this?
'What do we do?' Prompto asks, a whisper, though the giant is too far away to hear them. He squints at the exit, a doorway maybe two hundred meters down the hall, about a hundred past the iron giant, and describes it as best he could to Ignis.
'Iron giants are resistant to fire and lightning,' Ignis says, which, great to know, but not actually useful. Going by Ignis' frustrated pause after speaking, he knows it too. 'They are weak to greatswords and shields; however, even if Gladio were here, I would not advise attempting to fight it.'
'Won't argue with you there, Iggy.'
Ignis shakes his head; water dripps from his hair onto his and Prompto's shoulders. 'We should split up,' he says. 'Each skirt a different side of the hall. The iron giant's back is vulnerable; when it moves towards one of us, the other will be able to distract it by targetting it from behind.'
Prompto looks at him sideways. 'Is that a good idea?' he says, but it's not like he has a better one. And they're running out of time. 'Okay, but only if you go by the wall with the door in it.'
Ignis has the grace to look chagrined. 'I think that might be for the best.'
They wade into the water. It's cold enough to make Prompto clench his teeth, there's a slow current, and Ignis barely manages to stay upright when Prompto steps away. How was this a good idea again? But anything he has to say is silenced when Ignis turns to him, hesitates, and reaches out. With one hand he grounds himself on Prompto's shoulder, and with the other he touches the side of Prompto's face.
'Prompto, I—' He trails off, hesitates further. 'I thought I ought to say—'
Except he doesn't say anything, and Prompto can't say anything because his mind is blank with… what? He's hyper-aware of Ignis' hand on his cheek. It's really hot, but maybe that's just because Prompto's face is cold. Everything feels extremely significant all of a sudden, but his brain doesn't want to connect the dots to why it's significant.
Ignis takes away his hands. 'Never mind,' he says, smiling very badly. 'Shall we go? And remember, only shoot to attract its attention.'
That's Prompto's cue to say something himself, but he doesn't, other than: 'Okay.' Maybe Ignis' smile is just awful because the light and the fact that he needs a really long rest before he's no longer almost dead. Maybe. Maybe Ignis hadn't meant to cradle Prompto's cheek like he had.
His hand had been hot, but wet; his handprint cools quickly. Prompto wipes it away, then feels guilty, but Ignis is already wading away. He's leaning heavily against the wall, walking painfully slowly, and Prompto doesn't have time to have a crisis now.
The iron giant spots Ignis first. It turns towards him, and oh yeah, they're faster than they look. But the water slows it down a little bit, and Prompto ducks behind a pillar before shooting it in the back of its head, which makes it stop, turn again to try find him. He's fought more daemons than he'd ever wanted to, including giants, but his lizard-brain always panics when one of them look at him.
The plan… works. It helps when Ignis manages to freeze the water into ice, which traps the giant for a bit. It's not nearly as effective as even Noct's weakest blizzard spell, but Prompto hadn't known Ignis could even do it, so. He doesn't want to know how much it must've taken out of him. But they keep the iron giant between them, and the couple of times it does get too close they manage to dodge its stupid big sword, even if it does mean diving into the muddy water and running round pillars.
Ignis gets out of the hall, and even though now Prompto's kinda screwed on his own, he breaths a sigh of relief. He'd half expected Ignis to just… he doesn't know. It's Ignis, he doesn't do too slow or not agile enough. (Except when he does, but Prompto doesn't want to think of that mine, the one in Niflheim, not now and not ever.)
Prompto runs like crazy to get out, at least as much as he can in that deep water, and it helps that Ignis finds a way onto a second floor balcony so he can aggro the iron giant from safety. When Prompto finally escapes he's winded, legs burning, and he sloshes his way far enough up the stairs that the giant can't get him and collapses, just trying to breathe. But he's unhurt, which is nice, but also reminds him that Ignis is hurt, and it's kinda Prompto's fault. If Prompto had been better at killing those lich. If Prompto had actually gone with Ignis to begin with.
Can't do anything about that now, except feel like shit. He crawls to his hands and knees, rinsing his hands off as best he can and shrugging out of his shirt so he can wring it out. His feet squelch uncomfortably in his shoes. He finds Ignis waiting half way up the stairs, dripping wet, looking really tired, in pain, and also… just kind of miserable. He hasn't realised Prompto is there and can see him, Prompto realises.
He doesn't have the energy to deal with that. 'Iggy,' he says, puts on a cheerful voice, and comes stomping up. 'Whew, talk about leg day.'
'Are you unhurt?' Ignis straightens, expression changing, instantly solicitous.
'Right as rain, you?'
'As well as one can hope,' Ignis says, which isn't exactly promising. But Prompto can feel fresh air, which makes him feel a whole lot better about everything, so he just pulls Ignis' arm over his shoulder and helps him get up the stairs and back out into the forest.
It's still raining. Prompto isn't really sure why he's surprised by it, but he is. At least the rain is cleaner than the mud water down in the ruins.
'So, uh, know the way to the nearest haven from here?'
Ignis' chin is almost bumping against his chest. His eyes are both closed, and he sighs heavily before he answers. 'From this entrance… best would be to head east to the Vesperpool and then circle around to the haven on the south bank.'
'Seriously? That's the closest?'
'It's the only one I'm sure we could reliably find. I'm not sure of our exact location relative to the Myrlwoods.'
Which… is fair enough. But that doesn't mean Prompto has to like the answer. The haven in the Myrlwoods has to be half the distance.
'You sure you don't want to rest here a bit? I'll keep watch.'
In the stark beam of the flashlight, Ignis looks like absolute shit. The blood's been washed off his face, but that doesn't help much given the waxy paleness of his skin, the way he's clearly favouring his right leg, the slow and tentative way he's moving—
'Staying in once place for too long would be unwise,' Ignis says, which is also true, and Prompto also doesn't like it. Next time he goes to pick Ignis up, he's bringing chocobos.
They make it about ten steps, picking their way agonisingly slowly over tree stumps and roots, around pools of water, before Prompto starts thinking about Ignis' hand on his cheek. And how it was almost like… except this is Ignis, who is cool and refined and also crazy about Noct, right? It's not like Prompto doesn't appreciate how kind he is, and how sexy his long legs and trim waist are, but he's not actually into him.
Not that Ignis, of all people, would be into Prompto, anyway.
He really should say something, since Ignis isn't.
'Find what you were looking for?'
It takes Ignis a moment to reply. 'Hm?'
'Y'know, in the ruins.'
'Ah… yes. Though if there's a chance I'd like to go back, but perhaps in drier weather.'
Prompto laughs, a tired huff of amusement. 'You don't like a nice indoor swimming pool?' he says.
They walk further, slipping and sliding down into a boggy ditch and then scrambling to get out again. Ignis is getting heavier; he's shivering, feet dragging on the ground. He trips, and Prompto is almost dragged down with him before he finds his balance and keeps them upright.
'My apologies,' Ignis says, and Prompto hates how defeated he sounds.
'I saw Gladio and Iris last week,' Prompto says as he pulls them forward, as if they can walk away from Ignis' unhappiness. 'She's grown, like, five centimetres since I last saw them, I swear. It's not natural.'
'The famous Amicitia genes. You should have seen Gladio's growth spurt.'
Prompto groans. 'And I thought my growing pains had been bad.'
'Gladio was particularly bad tempered for months.'
Prompto waits for an amusing anecdote he can use next time he runs across the Amicitia siblings, but nothing comes. They dim their lights to skirt around a couple of flans wallowing in a pool of water. 'Flans are gross,' Prompto says, when they get far enough away to turn them back up again. He does his own, then Ignis', too. 'Why are they even a thing?'
'Noct may dislike mushy desserts, but I admit a fondness for a nice flan.'
'What's the best flan you've ever had?'
Ignis has to think for a long time before Prompto gets to find out about the really nice patisserie near where Ignis' uncle had lived. 'Though I only found out about it regrettably late,' Ignis admits. 'I'd wanted to take…'
Prompto waits a bit, then says, 'Noct?' It's stupid but he can't help but want Ignis to keep talking.
'No—' Ignis says, then immediately, '—that is — yes.'
It startles a laugh out of Prompto, which makes Ignis try to pull away. 'Ooh, so who did you want to take?' he says, then regrets it. Ignis yanks away harder, which throws both of them off balance, and Prompto yelps as they trip and fall. His knee hits a rock, jarring it, and Ignis rolls away to one side.
'Shit!' Prompto scrambles up. Ignis is curled, but he straightens and staggers up; Prompto grasps for him, terrified he's just going to tip over again, and almost recoils when he touches Ignis and feels how hot his skin is. 'Shit,' he says again. Even drenched in cold water, he's burning up. How hadn't he noticed until now?
'A fever?' Ignis doesn't fight Prompto's hand on his forehead. 'I had suspected. There's no option other than to press on, however.'
'Seriously?' Prompto glances around quickly, determines it reasonably safe, and pushes Ignis over to a lumpy old tree root. 'Sit.'
Ignis, head bowed, lets himself be pushed and sits without complaint. He takes the paracetamol and glass of water Prompto gives him, and doesn't fight Prompto getting him out of his wet, filthy shirt. His skin is mottled with bruises, and he has a series of gnarly wounds on his back, curling down around his side, and a few more across one hip. They have the shallow, smooth look of a deeper wound that's half-healed, but they're also red, swollen, and inflamed. In one, a finger-length cut that only just misses Ignis' spine, the flesh inside is bulging, yellow with infection.
It'll probably have to be opened anyway, to get rid off the gunk inside, and it has to hurt. Worth doing it now instead of waiting until they're at the haven? Prompto puts his fingertips next to the wound, as light as he can, and Ignis shudders.
'I can open it, get the crap out,' Prompto says.
'Please.'
Inside, Prompto's squeamish, and his own back prickles with the thought of a daemon catching them unawares. But he gets a clean little knife out, a squeeze bottle of water, a cloth, and his hands don't even shake as he cuts a centimetre long insertion into Ignis' flesh. Bloody pus pours out, thick, and Ignis makes a low noise, curling forward.
There's more gunk in there than Prompto had expected. Some of the pus gets on the waistline of Ignis' trousers, but that's fine, they need washing anyway. He wipes up as much as he can and rinses the inside of the wound with water and some antiseptic. The antiseptic is probably superstition more than anything; if the infection is that bad it'll do fuck-all, and if it's not then Ignis will be able to heal himself later. But Prompto does it anyway, and if it stings then it serves Ignis right for hiding his stupid fever.
Stupid Prompto, for not checking sooner. Stupid Prompto, for fucking up.
'Hold this,' he says, and gets an umbrella, because why not. Ignis doesn't hold it very well, though; it keeps listing to the side and letting rain get on his back and the gauze and bandages Prompto's trying to wrap him up in. Ignis keeps murmuring apologies, too, and saying that he doesn't need it, to save their supplies for later.
'That's what got you in this mess to begin with,' Prompto says, meaning to joke but coming out harsh and frustrated instead. Ignis goes silent, and then it's Prompto's turn to apologise.
He gets Ignis into a new, clean shirt and puts a light raincoat over that, because the cold rain's only making him shiver, which will make the fever worse. Ignis fights that, but only weakly, and is overruled. Prompto doesn't try make him change his trousers or shoes, though; they'll just get soaked as they walk. He does get a new towel to try dry Ignis' hair, though, and use a thermometer to check his temperature.
'We've been here too long,' Ignis finally says. Prompto has to help him up because otherwise he'd fall over, and he pulls Ignis' arm back over his shoulders. They start walking again, after Prompto works out which direction they need to go in. He also works out roughly how long it'll take them to get to the haven. He doesn't tell Ignis.
Sometime, perhaps an hour later, Prompto catches himself thinking that the sun has to be about to come up, soon.
'What was your favourite candy, growing up?' he asks Ignis, just to make him talk.
'If you owned a cafe, and it had to be themed, what would you theme it?' he asks, and ruthlessly makes Ignis answer.
Then: 'Can you really taste the difference between drip coffee and espresso with hot water added?'
Then: 'Did you ever do the dancing games at the arcade?'
He doesn't ask what Ignis had started to say before, the touch to his cheek, that sentence he'd never finished.
'Did you have any pets growing up?'
'Remember those mushrooms we'd find here? Back before.'
About two hours after getting out of the ruins, Ignis' legs go from under him. The suddenness means Prompto doesn't catch him in time; he falls to his knees with a gasp of pain, then gets up, shaking.
Prompto's own back is alight with pain, the strain of holding Ignis up catching up with him. His knee hurts too, the one he'd hit on a rock earlier. He gets Ignis to drink some water, because they don't need dehydration on top of everything else, and also it'll give them both a moment to stretch out cramping muscles and rest. 'Best be off,' Ignis says, after barely a couple minutes.
Three hours after the ruins they almost walk straight into a group of thunder bombs, which appear out of nowhere, malevolent purple fuckers. The only good thing is the trees and rocks make it hard for the bombs to move, too, so Prompto and Ignis manage to backtrack and escape without setting any of them off, though they need a break after to catch their breath. Prompto checks Ignis' temperature again, out of paranoia, but it hasn't changed.
A bit after that, after Prompto has lost track of the time, the ground turns from mud to stone. It's definitely an improvement, but they're also having to find their way around the huge rocks lying around in their way, threatening to block them off and make them go back and waste time finding a different route. And they hurt more on Prompto's feet. He's is starting to wonder if they've been here before, if that rock looks familiar or if it's just in his head, when a dirt path appears in front of them.
'It's the track up to the Myrlwoods,' Prompto says, and wow, he'd been way off with where he'd thought they were. But the relief of being out of that jungle is huge, even if the path is wet and slippery with mud. 'We could go to that haven now we know where it is. Though it'll be so much nicer to walk on the road. I vote road.'
'Road it is,' Ignis says, and they keep walking.
'I love civilisation,' Prompto says. The path, which turns into a road, is probably the nicest road Prompto's ever seen. Even though it is just still dirt and not paved over, whatever. It's solid and clear of trip hazards, and they don't have to wrench their feet out of mud that's trying to steal their shoes. Bless whoever built this here.
They have to go back off-road to avoid more bombs, but it's easier now, with fewer trees and less mud. Prompto keeps squinting out into the darkness, trying spot the glow of the haven. They're almost there, he's sure of it. (They have to be; Ignis' limp is getting much worse.) He'll get the tent out, get some water boiling to clean up in, Ignis can crash, he can double check Ignis' fever and injuries then crash as well — he is gonna sleep so hard—
He's so caught up in thinking about what he'll do when they get to the haven, he almost doesn't register the faint blue glow. He's not sure if it's coincidence or some kind of sensitivity to magic, but Ignis lifts his head, and Prompto looks up to see the haven just a few hundred metres off.
'Almost at the finish line!'
'The best news I've heard all day,' Ignis says. He's clearly trying to sound bracing, but he's flagging, limping heavily on his bad leg, breath harsh with pain. Prompto tamps down hard on his hopes of picking up the pace for the last stretch. It's fine. Impatience isn't going to get them there any quicker. His feet still itch to get there right now.
They clamber up onto the haven, and Prompto thanks the astrals that it's an easy-ish slope up and not one of the havens you have to climb onto. He's not sure Ignis could manage that. But whatever, he can get onto this one, even if he does need Prompto to help him, and that's all that matters.
Prompto grabs one of the camping chairs and throws it down next to the embers of the fire, and pushes Ignis over to it. 'Lemme set up camp,' he tells him, and doesn't even mind doing the work when he's this tired and sore. He gets the fire stoked up and puts on a pot of water; the rain is light enough it won't put it out, not a haven fire, and the pot will be easier than fucking around with Ignis' cooking station. Then (after checking that Ignis is just sleeping and not actually unconscious or dead) he gets the tent set up, if struggling with it on his own, throws in the mats and sleeping bags, and a couple of blankets for good measure.
'Okay, Iggy, time for bed,' Prompto says, and when Ignis struggles to wake, shakes him gently. 'C'mon, sleepy head.'
Inside the tent he gets Ignis undressed, wincing at the bandage, now soaked with rain and blood, and the rest of his injuries. He can see why Ignis was limping: his knee is badly swollen, dark with bruising, and scraped raw one one side. His temperature is the same as before, and he drinks another glass of water with a couple more paracetamol, though he refuses food. 'I'll be fine,' he insists, as Prompto picks out gravel from his knee. 'I just need rest.'
'I know,' Prompto says, 'but let me worry a bit longer, okay?'
Ignis sighs. He's closed his eyes again. 'I never wanted you to worry.'
'Then maybe don't go running off on your own like that,' Prompto says. 'Look, you made me sound like my mom. I'm not angry, Ignis, I'm just disappointed.'
'This is a terrible conversation to have whilst unclothed,' Ignis says.
'Should've thought of that before you got yourself beat up.' That's about all the gravel he can get out. Prompto gives Ignis a final look over, including gently poking at the infected wound on his back. It still looks awful, but there's nothing Prompto can do about it that will make any difference after Ignis heals it, so he just tapes some gauze over it so it doesn't get blood onto the bedding. 'Okay, anything else I ought to know about?'
He means injuries. Ignis hesitates just a second too long, a flash of some emotion on his face that Prompto can't decipher.
'I — Iggy—'
Ignis shakes his head, the emotion gone, replaced by a tired smile. 'I treasure your friendship above most else in this world,' he says; it sounds rehearsed, but sincere. 'I would not do anything to risk it.'
Friendship. Prompto knows Ignis is giving him an out, but... 'Duh,' he says. 'Best buds. You're not going to get rid of me any time soon.'
This can't be how Ignis wanted to get naked in the tent with Prompto, and Prompto feels guilty, even though none of this is his fault. He doesn't want to see that exhausted misery on Ignis' face again. 'C'mon, pyjamas,' he says. 'Time to sleep. I'll make sure you don't croak it before morning.'
'And I, you,' Ignis says, which Prompto doesn't get, but maybe that's just the fever talking. Ignis gets changed awkwardly, tentative around his injuries, and winces in pain as he settles on his front to sleep, even with a pillow under his knee. There's nothing more Prompto can do; really, he didn't actually do all that much to help Ignis. He didn't know the way out, or do most of the fighting. Sure, the iron giant would've been tricky with just one of them, but he'd bet Ignis would've figured something out. There are even crutches in the armiger, so it wasn't like Ignis needed him to limp back to the haven.
He doesn't get why Ignis likes him. He feels guilty that Ignis does. But he tucks Ignis in best he can anyway, and after getting into his own pyjamas he settles himself as comfortable as possible sitting up with a light and a book, because the least he can do is make sure Ignis doesn't take a turn for the worse while he's regaining his strength.
Ignis' breathing slows, turns into the slow, heavy rhythm of someone fast asleep. Good. He'll be fine in about eight hours, hopefully longer if his body clock lets him sleep in. And until Noct gets back, the sun comes up and the apocalypse ends, that's about as much as he can hope for.