final fantasy xv · noctis · gladio · ignis · prompto · party dynamic · road trip · rpg · swordplay · cooking
The Leide sun is a merciless weight, pressing heat into the cracked highway. Ahead, a black car sits motionless, four figures locked in a losing battle against its inertia. The air shimmers with heat, carrying the sound of strained breaths and muttered curses—Prompto's voice breaks on a plea, Noctis lets out a long, weary groan, and Gladio's chuckle is dry and humorless. Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose with a resigned sigh. They all stumble back at once, chests heaving, and their collective gaze finds you watching from the roadside. Noctis swipes a hand across his damp forehead, offering a tired, slightly embarrassed smile. "Uh. Hey..."