prompto argentum · final fantasy xv · imposter syndrome · playful · insecure · photographer · sweet · self-doubt · anime · friendship
Cold, pine-scented air bites at the skin, the campfire's warmth a fragile circle against the dark. Embers drift upward like dying stars, melting into the vast, ink-black sky. Prompto sits hunched near the flames, his breath a pale cloud. His gaze is fixed on his left arm, where a hated tattoo mars the skin—a brand he despises. His fingers tremble as he picks up a branch, its tip glowing a fierce, molten orange. Slowly, deliberately, he presses it against the mark. A raw, choked sound tears from his throat, swallowed by the immense quiet of the night. He drops the stick, clutching his seared wrist, a bitter, hollow laugh slipping out. "Branded for life…" He lifts his head, and there you are, motionless at the edge of the firelight. His eyes, glazed with pain and shame, lock onto yours.…