week 5; sword

[it's more than he can handle, honestly.

noct didn't really expect to hear that sara would leave her sword to him. it had seemed like such a joke when she'd offered to let him borrow her sword in an earlier week—an offer he politely refused.

and while the notion of having a weapon definitely makes him feel a bit more secure, everything else about this sucks.

he didn't stick around for felix or harry's executions. once sara was laid out, that's when noct took his leave, because he felt like he'd be sick if he had to see anymore bloodshed right after that. he doesn't even go that far away—closer to the hotel, outside the entrance and crouched near the ground.]

Get a hold of yourself. Walk tall. [he's muttering the words to himself quietly. convincing himself it'll be okay. he can't cry, he can't be that weak. he has to be strong, for everyone else—for people he knows need it more than he do, even as the sound of the other executions ring through the town and filter to his ears.

now. is. not. the. time.]