Rayne Drops (FFXV)

LIV) Absent Exemption

            The truck is rough, rattling over every bump in the road and creaking at every swerve. The air is cold as it whips around me, filled to the brim with floating black particles that block out all light. My fingers are numb, resting on the hard metal base of the truck bed. Prompto looks around nervously beside Ignis, who has yet to move from his stiff position across from me. Gladio sits cross-legged by the tailgate with his head hanging as he catches whatever sleep he can.

Inside the truck isn't much better, at least, from what I can see through the square window to my left. Iris stares blankly out the window with Talcott sleeping across her lap. Dustin drives without speaking a word, only moving to steer or push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Monica leans back in her seat, gazing up at the ceiling and looking lost in thought.

I took the liberties of exploring Lestallum before we left. The wall of garbage stacked along the road is soon to be a gate for letting select, approved people in. That won't last for long, not with the whole world slowly losing electricity due to Eos's stringent reliance on solar power. I guess we didn't think all that far ahead. The king's magic, the sun, and the Disc; it's a surprise that the third lasted the longest.

The town's newest citizens watched me anxiously from windows and street corners, all gawking at the bloodied, beaten, scarred freak who supposedly left the king to die at the hands of the empire. Little do they know, the emperor and the high commander are dead. The chancellor turned his back on Niflheim to overtake the world. The empire as we all know it is rapidly approaching its demise. It's only a matter of time.

I sigh, leaning my head against the rattling truck and close my eyes. I wonder what Sig's up to right now. After giving it another moment's thought, I dig my phone out of my pocket and turn its smooth screen on. The photo on my lock-screen is the group photo we took before leaving for Altissia. A photo that was taken while there was still hope for Noctis and Luna. Now we have neither of them. What's the point?

Shaking my head, I type in my passcode before the picture stirs up any unwanted emotions. Opening my messages, I tap on Arma's name, shooting a quick text to Signum before shutting my phone off and tucking it away. After another moment, I take the device back out and change the contact name to "Sig." Enough is enough.

"How much longer, do you think?" Prompto asks, squinting into the wind that blows his blonde every-which-way.

"Three or four more hours," I shrug, fiddling with the end of my hair.

"Huh." He directs his attention elsewhere. "A lot longer without Ebony, huh Ignis?" he teases, nudging the advisor's boot with his own. Ignis shakes his head.

"I suppose."

"I wonder if Hammerhead still has any stashed away," the photographer muses, slouching and bringing his knees up closer to his chest. "I'm sure they do; only Crown City people drink that stuff, and all of those sorts are in Lestallum."

"You might be in luck, Iggy," I smile. Ignis's lips tug into the slightest of frowns and the truck bed goes silent once more. Look, I know we're in a bad way out here, but moping won't solve anything.

It seems like centuries of watching brawling daemons and darkening scenery pass by before Gladio stirs awake, wincing when he lifts his head for the first time in hours. Inside, Monica and Iris have fallen prey to restless sleep, and Dustin looks ready to doze off himself. I look up at Ignis to see if he's still awake; Prompto certainly isn't, what with his soft snores barely reaching my ears as he dozes on my shoulder.

"How're you holding up, Iggy?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. Gladio rubs the back of his neck with a grimace, watching the advisor's face carefully.