machine tights

Death Bed

I lie, hearing your steady breath and restrain myself from rolling over, making eye contact, engaging. Instead I match the rhythm of your air, in and out in parallel until there is but a single breath. In this I can form a connection between us that is otherwise an oceanic trench fissuring along the sheets, crumbled and cold.

Once the sun sets I want to reach, to survey the hills and valleys, and yet the cogs in the machine are rusted tight.  The drawbridge is pulled up and your back is an impenetrable wall. I am conscious at this wake, mourning the life of our fire devil that has turned to ash.  

The well where I have long dipped my gourd to draw my understanding has gone to dust, but I wait with an upturned face for the rain, even if this drought has parched my lips bloody.

Charon’s oboli lay on the nightstand. I carry them around, scared of losing them, of having you see I have gathered in precaution. Each night I place two coins side by side in hopes they will not need to be plucked and pushed into our mouths, sealing our fates and quieting us into the goodnight.

Styx laps at my feet. The funeral march approaches. I miss you.


Prompto was in a daze. He knew he was thirsty, hungry and he was in pain but.. That was as far as his thoughts went. He dangled from the machine, wrapped tight around his wrists and torso. It dug into his skin, causing discomfort but it wasn’t the worse that he’s felt. Prompto didn’t have the energy to keep his head held up, so he seemed to only be staring at the floor.

Blood dripped down the side of his head, leaking from the split skin on his temple. Right under his eye, along the cheekbone, there was swelling and a large purple welt. It definitely impaired his vision more than he’d wanted it to. He was sad and lonely. He tried to convince himself that Noct didn’t intentionally do it. That he hadn’t meant to swing his sword at him multiple times and that.. Maybe it all was an accident.

But, he could only lie to himself for so long, paired up with his own self doubts and Ardyn’s words… Prompto’s hope couldn’t last that long. Still, he’d told himself multiple times to not die. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not with Noctis.. maybe still out there looking for him. Prompto knew better than that. His phone was completely busted so the only thing he had was his camera. It was precious to him.

He drifted in and out of awareness, lifting his head up at the sound of shoes hitting metal. His heart immediately began to race and he tried lifting his head to look up at the sound. Prompto was confused. This wasn’t Ardyn. But he certainly looked like Ardyn.. Did he dye his hair? Why would he do that… Even the eye color was different. Contacts? No.. they looked too real…

Prompto lifted his head, though it felt like it weighed a ton. He tried to pull himself away from the other, instinctively trying to avoid anymore pain that could be brought. It was hard to talk, especially after so long of either screaming or silence.

P-Please…” The blond begged the other. He didn’t know who he was, but maybe they got sent to hurt him, too. “Don’t…”His last word was quiet, softly and desperately spoken. Prompto didn’t know the man, but even scarier was he didn’t know his intentions. The man was cowering from the stranger, desperate and in pain. He’d be brave if he had to.. If he had to feel pain, then fine.. but only if he got to see Noct one more time…