But Barnham... definitely can hardly stand to hear that. His voice wavers and cracks, but even so, Noctis makes such an earnest and sincere promise, and Barnham almost loses it. His breath hitches, and then almost angrily, he dashes tears from his face with one hand, the other clenching into a fist.
He still has Sara's blood on his forearms, on his clothing.
And now there's Noctis, making a promise and bearing a burden he should never have had to taken on.
And it's wrong, it's all so, so wrong and he hates it. He hates that he feels like he's breaking. He hates that he doesn't know how to fix this. He hates that they are all here like pigs for the slaughter, though they have all fought so hard to live.
He hates it all.
He breathes out an angry breath, and doesn't know what to say. Not to that. He doesn't know what to say to that promise, and to Noct gainfully trying to gain control of emotions that he's had pent up for far too long. How much can one person go through? Barnham doesn't know, but he knows it isn't fair how much Noct has suffered.
He turns away, breathing out shakily.]
... I must clean myself up.
[He doesn't know what to do anymore.
He doesn't know, anymore, how to fix this.
All he knows is that he cannot break, and more softly:]
... I shall make certain that I am there to see you do just that.
no subject
But Barnham... definitely can hardly stand to hear that. His voice wavers and cracks, but even so, Noctis makes such an earnest and sincere promise, and Barnham almost loses it. His breath hitches, and then almost angrily, he dashes tears from his face with one hand, the other clenching into a fist.
He still has Sara's blood on his forearms, on his clothing.
And now there's Noctis, making a promise and bearing a burden he should never have had to taken on.
And it's wrong, it's all so, so wrong and he hates it. He hates that he feels like he's breaking. He hates that he doesn't know how to fix this. He hates that they are all here like pigs for the slaughter, though they have all fought so hard to live.
He hates it all.
He breathes out an angry breath, and doesn't know what to say. Not to that. He doesn't know what to say to that promise, and to Noct gainfully trying to gain control of emotions that he's had pent up for far too long. How much can one person go through? Barnham doesn't know, but he knows it isn't fair how much Noct has suffered.
He turns away, breathing out shakily.]
... I must clean myself up.
[He doesn't know what to do anymore.
He doesn't know, anymore, how to fix this.
All he knows is that he cannot break, and more softly:]
... I shall make certain that I am there to see you do just that.
[He intends to live.]