Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812: PROLOGUE
have to study up a little bit If you wanna
keep with the plot ‘Cause it’s a
complicated Russian novel Everyone’s got
nine different names So look it up
in your program We’d
appreciate it, thanks a lot
we’re not allowed to listen to “Closer” by the Chainsmokers anymore because one time my roommate was on a bus and the girl next to her listened to that song on repeat for the ENTIRE 6 hour bus ride, and jammed out EVERY SINGLE TIME so every time it comes on my roommate just looks into the camera like she’s on The Office and whispers “bus girl”
so like?? apparently most people dont spend hours of their day watching fictional scenes or scenarios theyve constructed in their mind over years with years of plot and development and characters and huge overlapping universes???
and they dont spend most of their time listen to the same song on repeat with their headphones full blast imagining the same scene over and over from different angles to try and get everything just perfect???
and they dont cry and make faces and cHANNEL the EMOTION of the characters ur making up?????
so hear me out: Jack loves tegan and sara. This hopeless canadian country fool actually knows one pop-ish group and its the canadian icons tegan and sara. I mean think about how much it impacted him when they came out, and how much he connected to their music. In the present day, he listens to “100x” on repeat for hours whenever he starts to think about kent and his overdose. he can’t listen to “white knuckles” without thinking of the juniors. When he was younger “northshore” was his strength and conditioning song. looking back on it, he’s glad thats not his song anymore. But it doesn’t change the fact that he really loves tegan and sara because he connect to literally every song.
So this is something that absolutely no one asked for. Yes I know I have requests to write, yes I know I’m inconsistent with uploads, and yes I know I’m garbage. However Ardyn is worse garbage. This is an idea that’s been stewing around in my brain for a good hot minute and it something that struck me upside the head and won’t let me go. I listened to this song on repeat the entire writing process and I also blame it on that. So bear with me new and old followers, the requests will come in their own time. You can call me a bad blog runner if you wish but good things come with time. So enjoy this if you please.
Prompto couldn’t quite tell how long he had been held captive. Without any kind of time indicators he couldn’t tell the hours from the days and dawn from dusk. Had it been a few days or a few months since he had been pushed from the train? How long had he been kept here? How long had he had to endure the torture at the hands of Ardyn Izunia? He simply couldn’t tell anymore.
From being in here he could set up his own times. The spaces of what seemed to be hours in between sessions he would come to call nights. If he ever stayed conscious during these few hours they were usually spent in silent contemplation.
After the third round of torture he found himself still awake and aware of his surroundings. The humming of distant machinery still working and air passing through a nearby air vent on the floor. Besides the sound of passing MT’s in the distant hallway, armor clacking together from the tough endeavor that came from the weak bodies, it was quiet.
Prompto wondered that ‘night’ how long he had been hanging there in that cell. Wondered if anyone was really coming for him. Did his friends abandon him? Leaving him at the mercy of the enemy? All he could do was let his head hang down and let out an unspoken prayer that he was wrong.
It was the seventh night that he remained conscious again after his ‘talks’ with Ardyn when things had changed. He could still hear the machinery, the faint steps of the guards, the air in the ducts at the floor. But that night there was something else.
It was faint at first, like a simple whisper from someone standing beside his ear. It was a light voice, gentle, almost calming. However the gunslinger didn’t know if he could trust it or not. He didn’t know if this was another one of the Chancellor’s illusions that he had seen over the past few sessions. The voice’s volume didn’t change however, it stayed at the same constant softness. From this first hearing Prompto couldn’t tell if the language was his own or something foreign, it was too muddled by whatever air vent it was coming through. He concluded after a few minutes that it was singing.
The blonde captive wasn’t sure what about it caused him to calm down. Maybe it was the song itself, perhaps the soft tone of the singer, or was it the fact that for once he didn’t feel alone in his cell. That somewhere close by there might be someone trapped here as well. For a few short hours after that, Prompto slept calmly and without nightmares. Blissfully forgetting temporarily just where he was.
Over the span of what Prompto thought was days, the songs continued at night. Sometimes he could hear the words clearly, though never really understanding them as it was in fact a foreign language. Some nights however he could barely hear the soft words, the ringing in his ears from the beatings much too loud for his liking. After a while he’d come to accept that the voice was from a genuine person. This wasn’t a mind trick. It was someone just ‘down the hall’ but not. Someone close by that might be just as hurting as he was.
It was this realization that fired him up. Someone was here that didn’t deserve to be. Maybe that someone had been like him. Someone that carried the same secrets and a past they’d do almost anything to forget and hide. The small fire of hope burned in his chest now. He needed to get out now. Not only to save himself and return with his friends. But to also save that person on the other side of the vent.
One particular night, the song sounded strained. It didn’t ring as loud as it normally would have. Pain filled gasps behind the lyrics and groaning mixed with the melody. They almost sounded defeated. Willing to just let go and give up. Before he knew what he was doing, Prompto began to sing. He tried his best not to butcher the unknown words too much but mistakes were inevitable. When he began the other voice stopped for a few seconds.
When Prompto was about to stop they picked up the melody again. They both sang along in a nice harmony. Prompto closed his eyes and continued to sing, focusing on the other voice that he’s come to know during his time here. They had given him hope to continue on when the world seemed bleak and renewed his trust in the friends he knew were coming for him. Now it was his turn to give them that hope. Soon enough the song ended, leaving the both of them in a moment of silence until the blonde spoke up once more.
me preparing for long car trips: brings three different books, game boy, downloads fun apps, lots of activities,
me on long car trip: listens to a single song on repeat for two hours while staring out the window