When the Titan, crouching in the foothills of what would one day be known as Cleigne, turned to the bright, burning meteor that roared through the earth's atmosphere, he didn't have time to think before he raised his arms to catch it.
The resulting crater was so wide that three villages had to flee in the night, the foundations of their homes buckling as the ground beneath them rippled and shook. Tremors swept out even to the Leviathan's lair, stirring her from her home in the deeps. The people of Cleigne and Duscae flocked to the meteor, that star that had fallen from the sky, and as they wondered what god had deigned to come to earth, a light in the heart of the meteor flickered to life.
They took the shape of a human, because all humans liked to see themselves in their gods, and stepped down onto the Titan's shoulder to look over the land below.
"What are those creatures?" they asked the Titan, holding onto one of the stones in the Astral's eye for balance. "The small ones, who called to me?"
"Humans," the Titan said. The new god tried on a frown of their own.
"What are they doing?" they asked.
"Living," the Titan said. "Praying that you will spare them."
"Oh." The god rolled their shoulders. "Should I?"
"That is for you to decide."
The god gave the Titan a look that seemed suspiciously judgmental for one so new, and dropped to the ground to find out.
When they came back a few hundred years later, the god had a name.
"They have this thing called summer," he said, sitting on the Titan's brow, the hem of his white robes trailing past his bare feet. He had hair now, black and thick, and a crown of leaves that bloomed with bright yellow flowers. "Sometimes they put on clothes made of grass, and they kill an animal with horns. I'm not sure why. But I walk into the middle of it all, and if I like the animal, I bless the town. It's very exciting. Do they kill animals for you?"
"No," said the Titan.
"I like them," the god said. "They call me Helios now. Helios, after one of their old stories. They're so creative, and small, and they have this thing called laughing, do you want to hear?" He laughed. "They just do it, sometimes, when they're happy. I wish I could know what they look like at night, but I'm the god of the sun now. Maybe you can tell me, if you can stay awake long enough to watch."
Then he laughed again, just for the sake of it, and fell away, returning to the people he'd come to love so much.
It would be thousands of years before the Titan would see him again, and it would not be the same.
---
"I don't trust this guy," Gladio said for the fifth time, as Noctis drove, teeth gritted, twenty feet behind the purple bumper of Mr. "Call me Ardyn's" beloved car. Prompto fiddled with his camera, skipping back and forth between the selfies their auburn-haired friend had taken, and stayed quiet.
He'd felt it a few times since their encounter with Loqi--that wrongness, the jarring feeling that something fundamental about the world had been flipped on its head, but he hadn't been able to pin it down. It happened when Imperial airships found them, roaring down out of an empty sky. It happened at night, sometimes, when Prompto woke in a panic, with nothing but Ignis' half-asleep murmuring and Gladio's hand on his chest to keep him from running. And it had happened a few minutes before, when Ardyn had stopped talking to Noct, smiled, and turned his gaze to Prompto.
"Your feelings on the matter are more than clear," Ignis said. Like he always did when Noctis was driving, he had his hand gripped tight on the Regalia's Oh Shit handle.
"If he wants to camp with us," Gladio said, "We're gonna have to set up a watch schedule."
"Or tie him up in his car," Prompto said. Noct snorted, the car jerked, and everyone lunged for their seat belts.
"No jokes," Ignis gasped. "Please."
"I was joking?" Prompto asked.
They stopped at a caravan for the night, well within the safety of the daemon-warding floodlights, and Gladio pulled everyone aside to divvy up watch assignments. Prompto was notorious for passing out as soon as the sun went down, so he was given the last watch, right before dawn. All the same, he resolved to stay up as long as possible, and sat out in the deck chairs with the others after dinner was done. He didn't last long. It felt like only minutes had passed before Ignis jostled him awake, pushing a sacred can of Ebony in his hands.
Prompto cracked open the can and blinked into the dark of the parking lot. The sprinklers at the edge of the outpost came on, setting off rainbows of mist against the blue haze of the daemon lights. The cat that lived in the convenience store was asleep on one of Gladio's open books, paws twitching. Prompto scratched her behind one ragged ear, and she purred like a broken motor.
"Dawn is some ways off," Ardyn said, and Prompto jumped. Ardyn was leaning against the caravan, ankles crossed, gazing out into the darkness.
"Nah," Prompto said. "Give it thirty minutes." Ten years of waking up early to run had given him an uncanny internal clock. Judging by the way the sky went grey at the edges, he could tell that the sun was due to rise soon enough.
"It truly is a blessed country," Ardyn said. "Or it was, before the empire came."
Prompto pushed his chair back and propped his boots on the table. Someone had draped a blanket over him in the night, and it slid down his legs. "I just woke up, dude. Give me a minute."
"I doubt you'll be truly awake for at least thirty," Ardyn said.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing."
Prompto nursed his Ebony, watching Ardyn as he shifted against the caravan for a better position. "Alright, fine. You said something about the empire?"
"Did I? Oh, yes." Ardyn tugged at his cuffs. "The empire seems to be obsessed with the gods, does it not? The emperor wants to be immortal, so the thought of other immortal beings running around free... It isn't comforting." He smiled at Prompto, as though sharing a joke.
"So the empire started killing them," Prompto said. "Yeah. Everyone knows about Shiva."
"Shiva, yes." Ardyn shrugged. "And the goddess of the harvest, the goddess of the hunt. The god of children--did you know there was one? The goddess of cats, the god of the sun..."
Prompto hunched his shoulders, a sick, twisted feeling rising in his stomach.
"But of course," Ardyn said, "there are still cats, children, and harvests. There are still hunters. And look! The sun rises." He looked Prompto in the eye. "Gods die, and the world moves on without them. Tell your friend to remember that, when he meets the Titan."
(Fill 4/? Dawn Child) Re: Sun Summon Prompto
The resulting crater was so wide that three villages had to flee in the night, the foundations of their homes buckling as the ground beneath them rippled and shook. Tremors swept out even to the Leviathan's lair, stirring her from her home in the deeps. The people of Cleigne and Duscae flocked to the meteor, that star that had fallen from the sky, and as they wondered what god had deigned to come to earth, a light in the heart of the meteor flickered to life.
They took the shape of a human, because all humans liked to see themselves in their gods, and stepped down onto the Titan's shoulder to look over the land below.
"What are those creatures?" they asked the Titan, holding onto one of the stones in the Astral's eye for balance. "The small ones, who called to me?"
"Humans," the Titan said. The new god tried on a frown of their own.
"What are they doing?" they asked.
"Living," the Titan said. "Praying that you will spare them."
"Oh." The god rolled their shoulders. "Should I?"
"That is for you to decide."
The god gave the Titan a look that seemed suspiciously judgmental for one so new, and dropped to the ground to find out.
When they came back a few hundred years later, the god had a name.
"They have this thing called summer," he said, sitting on the Titan's brow, the hem of his white robes trailing past his bare feet. He had hair now, black and thick, and a crown of leaves that bloomed with bright yellow flowers. "Sometimes they put on clothes made of grass, and they kill an animal with horns. I'm not sure why. But I walk into the middle of it all, and if I like the animal, I bless the town. It's very exciting. Do they kill animals for you?"
"No," said the Titan.
"I like them," the god said. "They call me Helios now. Helios, after one of their old stories. They're so creative, and small, and they have this thing called laughing, do you want to hear?" He laughed. "They just do it, sometimes, when they're happy. I wish I could know what they look like at night, but I'm the god of the sun now. Maybe you can tell me, if you can stay awake long enough to watch."
Then he laughed again, just for the sake of it, and fell away, returning to the people he'd come to love so much.
It would be thousands of years before the Titan would see him again, and it would not be the same.
---
"I don't trust this guy," Gladio said for the fifth time, as Noctis drove, teeth gritted, twenty feet behind the purple bumper of Mr. "Call me Ardyn's" beloved car. Prompto fiddled with his camera, skipping back and forth between the selfies their auburn-haired friend had taken, and stayed quiet.
He'd felt it a few times since their encounter with Loqi--that wrongness, the jarring feeling that something fundamental about the world had been flipped on its head, but he hadn't been able to pin it down. It happened when Imperial airships found them, roaring down out of an empty sky. It happened at night, sometimes, when Prompto woke in a panic, with nothing but Ignis' half-asleep murmuring and Gladio's hand on his chest to keep him from running. And it had happened a few minutes before, when Ardyn had stopped talking to Noct, smiled, and turned his gaze to Prompto.
"Your feelings on the matter are more than clear," Ignis said. Like he always did when Noctis was driving, he had his hand gripped tight on the Regalia's Oh Shit handle.
"If he wants to camp with us," Gladio said, "We're gonna have to set up a watch schedule."
"Or tie him up in his car," Prompto said. Noct snorted, the car jerked, and everyone lunged for their seat belts.
"No jokes," Ignis gasped. "Please."
"I was joking?" Prompto asked.
They stopped at a caravan for the night, well within the safety of the daemon-warding floodlights, and Gladio pulled everyone aside to divvy up watch assignments. Prompto was notorious for passing out as soon as the sun went down, so he was given the last watch, right before dawn. All the same, he resolved to stay up as long as possible, and sat out in the deck chairs with the others after dinner was done. He didn't last long. It felt like only minutes had passed before Ignis jostled him awake, pushing a sacred can of Ebony in his hands.
Prompto cracked open the can and blinked into the dark of the parking lot. The sprinklers at the edge of the outpost came on, setting off rainbows of mist against the blue haze of the daemon lights. The cat that lived in the convenience store was asleep on one of Gladio's open books, paws twitching. Prompto scratched her behind one ragged ear, and she purred like a broken motor.
"Dawn is some ways off," Ardyn said, and Prompto jumped. Ardyn was leaning against the caravan, ankles crossed, gazing out into the darkness.
"Nah," Prompto said. "Give it thirty minutes." Ten years of waking up early to run had given him an uncanny internal clock. Judging by the way the sky went grey at the edges, he could tell that the sun was due to rise soon enough.
"It truly is a blessed country," Ardyn said. "Or it was, before the empire came."
Prompto pushed his chair back and propped his boots on the table. Someone had draped a blanket over him in the night, and it slid down his legs. "I just woke up, dude. Give me a minute."
"I doubt you'll be truly awake for at least thirty," Ardyn said.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing."
Prompto nursed his Ebony, watching Ardyn as he shifted against the caravan for a better position. "Alright, fine. You said something about the empire?"
"Did I? Oh, yes." Ardyn tugged at his cuffs. "The empire seems to be obsessed with the gods, does it not? The emperor wants to be immortal, so the thought of other immortal beings running around free... It isn't comforting." He smiled at Prompto, as though sharing a joke.
"So the empire started killing them," Prompto said. "Yeah. Everyone knows about Shiva."
"Shiva, yes." Ardyn shrugged. "And the goddess of the harvest, the goddess of the hunt. The god of children--did you know there was one? The goddess of cats, the god of the sun..."
Prompto hunched his shoulders, a sick, twisted feeling rising in his stomach.
"But of course," Ardyn said, "there are still cats, children, and harvests. There are still hunters. And look! The sun rises." He looked Prompto in the eye. "Gods die, and the world moves on without them. Tell your friend to remember that, when he meets the Titan."