[Prompto may not know what he's referencing, but he can imagine the results all too well. Taking out anger and grief on something, with the Kings' power? In a much smaller, more familiar way, he's seen Noct do the same, after he Imperial army murdered Jared.
In a less comforting, more personal way, he can imagine Izunia's face and voice--Ardyn's face and voice--torturing someone over and over. It's almost too easy for him to imagine, really.
And then the wires cross, and in the most personal, most terrible way, he remembers Noct's voice, twisted in hatred and pain and fury, and the hard pressure of his forearm against his throat--and maybe Prompto can't imagine what it was like for Izunia, but it's even more horrifying to know, in some small part, he felt what it was like for Ardyn.]
...Sorry.
[He curls up, pulling his legs to his chest again, voice disappearing into his knees.]
no subject
In a less comforting, more personal way, he can imagine Izunia's face and voice--Ardyn's face and voice--torturing someone over and over. It's almost too easy for him to imagine, really.
And then the wires cross, and in the most personal, most terrible way, he remembers Noct's voice, twisted in hatred and pain and fury, and the hard pressure of his forearm against his throat--and maybe Prompto can't imagine what it was like for Izunia, but it's even more horrifying to know, in some small part, he felt what it was like for Ardyn.]
...Sorry.
[He curls up, pulling his legs to his chest again, voice disappearing into his knees.]
Sorry. That's awful. ...I shouldn't have asked.