[and here they are: two grown men (shut up, noctis is an adult, dammit), crying outside over the loss of another life—of someone who was important to them both.
it's true, they've both broken their resolve right now; they both cracked under the pressure. noctis himself—he'd sworn to himself the night before after leaving his room that he would do better. that he would fix this and end all of the suffering incurred by this place.
...he still plans to do that.
no matter what, noctis is going to give his all to find out whatever it is he needs to in order to help.
but in this moment—they need to grieve. and there's nobody there to tell them not to. there's no gladio to say go over it. there's no sara to headbutt them. there's nothing at all like that right now. so with his head kept low, he remains like this for a bit.
noctis can't comfort barnham, either. he doesn't know how they both reached this point—but he's equally not equipped. but all the same, now that it's happened? noctis isn't going to hold back. not that he'll sob loudly, but he's not hiding it, either. not that there are quiet snobs, not the sniffles, not the wetness in his eyes—the mark of a kid who has been in over his head way too long and has suffered so, so many losses that he just has no idea what to do anymore.
but eventually... he'll find at least a little resolve.
just a little.
enough to speak.]
No matter what... [his voice is wavering though, cracking slightly and with that uneven edge that comes from equally uneven breathing as he tries to rein in his emotions enough.
barnham still needs him.] I'll make sure this sword gets back to its owner.
[which means he has to stay alive—and find a way to bring an end to this hell. somehow.]
no subject
it's true, they've both broken their resolve right now; they both cracked under the pressure. noctis himself—he'd sworn to himself the night before after leaving his room that he would do better. that he would fix this and end all of the suffering incurred by this place.
...he still plans to do that.
no matter what, noctis is going to give his all to find out whatever it is he needs to in order to help.
but in this moment—they need to grieve. and there's nobody there to tell them not to. there's no gladio to say go over it. there's no sara to headbutt them. there's nothing at all like that right now. so with his head kept low, he remains like this for a bit.
noctis can't comfort barnham, either. he doesn't know how they both reached this point—but he's equally not equipped. but all the same, now that it's happened? noctis isn't going to hold back. not that he'll sob loudly, but he's not hiding it, either. not that there are quiet snobs, not the sniffles, not the wetness in his eyes—the mark of a kid who has been in over his head way too long and has suffered so, so many losses that he just has no idea what to do anymore.
but eventually... he'll find at least a little resolve.
just a little.
enough to speak.]
No matter what... [his voice is wavering though, cracking slightly and with that uneven edge that comes from equally uneven breathing as he tries to rein in his emotions enough.
barnham still needs him.] I'll make sure this sword gets back to its owner.
[which means he has to stay alive—and find a way to bring an end to this hell. somehow.]