excerpt:
"… I wish you could feel how warm your hands are…" Prompto murmured. Her hands were not completely soft… He had gotten used to that, especially as she trained with her mace and he saw how her use of magic toughened the skin upon her palms and fingertips. He remembered how it looked when magic was cast from her palms — how it lingered and sometimes clung to her like a second skin…
Still…they were warm, and they were inviting. More importantly, they were Prim's.
"… I don't mind…I mean…it's been almost two decades now since I lost that kind of feeling. I've forgotten what hot and cold even feel like…" Primam replied, her voice just as quiet as she looked at their hands. She laced her fingers with Prompto's. "… It still feels nice. Holding your hands, I mean…"
She looked back up at him with a smile. "I can still feel the callus built up from training with and using your gun. How rough your palms have gotten since fixing up that bike of yours."
"These are…" Prompto began, scoffing softly. He grasped Primam's hands affectionately. "The least romantic things you could be picking out to feel."
excerpt:
No one manned the front desk anymore. Not since the Leville was repurposed to house Hunters, Glaive, and refugees…and her, she supposed. However, with the observation of no one being at the front, the rest of the lobby was also void of anyone meandering about so late. Honestly, it was a bit of an unfortunate discovery, because it meant now that Prompto must have been wandering the city — not that it was dangerous with it being lit up and patrolled to keep daemonic activity away.
Pushing open the door, Primam felt the wind blow past her face briefly before she rose a hand to tame any loosened strands of hair. She then proceeded to walk out, looking around as she did.
Just like how no activity graced the entrance to the Leville, the fountain had since been decommissioned and drained. It was here, though, that Primam caught sight of Prompto sitting on his own, phone in his hand — she could only tell by the glow that was illuminating him faintly.
Primam walked over. It was not her intention to be so silent — she just did not think about it. Eventually, she stopped close to Prompto, and she reached out, gently laying her hand upon his shoulder. He flinched under her touch and immediately looked at her with surprise before it quickly melted away into sheepish concern.
been thinking about Them™ and writing specifically Them™ to make me feel better and soothe my soul.
two prompts done so far out of twenty-four.
#quicksilverdancers
archiveofourown.org/works/655247...