It's less like a weight and far more like a puppet being drawn up by the strings as Ignis stand and tries to get Prompto to do the same. He moves, but it's disjointed, like his mind really isn't connected to the motion. Prompto doesn't really cry pretty, always bright crimson splotches on his cheeks and around his eyes, and those very much remain as Ignis gets a look at eyes no longer overflowing but a face looking shattered. The light that might have dulled in the ten years of darkness, that had been reignited upon the first sight of Noctis, is no longer dull but blown out completely.

Broken.

Gladio, if he had ever let himself properly mourn the fall of Insomnia, had never done it where any other living soul had been able to see (only his chocobo would ever know). Even now, his chin is up, his expression flat, as he listens to Cor who is outlining what he saw coming in. If Prompto's listening, he shows no signs of it, just sort of staring down at nothing.

"We'll have to go back to Hammerhead before night falls," Cor wraps up. With nothing working here in Insomnia and no idea if daemons remain at all--

"No." Not even loud enough Cor could hear him, but it's Prompto whispering. "We can't leave him."