week 5; sword

[elemancy]

[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.]

Comments

[moraled]

[It's more than Barnham can handle too. Feeling Sara bleeding out on his fingers, by his own actions... and knowing that she was grateful to him for it--

It's far more than he can bear. Much like everything in this place has been.

But just like this place has been from day one, Barnham has a job to do, and so he can't crumble.

He picks the sword up and he takes it to Noct, because this is his first duty. He's still covered in Sara's blood, and he knows that's wrong; immediately after this, he fully intends to get cleaned up. But this place is dangerous, and Sara wanted Noct to have a weapon.

So he'll give it to Noct, and make sure he can defend himself immediately.

This trial has made it clear that there is no such thing as truly a safe time.]

... Noctis.

[Tiredly. A little gruffly. He looks at Noct sadly, and gently, he offers the sword. The sword is clean; Barnham at least wiped off his hands before he touched it.]

This...is now yours.

[elemancy]

[the sound of barnham's voice is enough to catch his attention.

but he's not entirely ready to see barnham there, sara's blood still on him—and her sword in his hand. his first thought is to stand back up.

walk tall.

but this is difficult, because now it's not just that sara is about to die. she is dead, she is gone—and it's up to them to live and figure out how to keep living. and he knows how much harder this is on barnham, and now why he wanted to be the one to carry out her execution.

(if if that wasn't fair, either.)]

Diablo.

[he murmurs the name that sara had given him when they talked about her weapons. but for a moment, noct will just nod—he only briefly passes a gaze with barnham before taking the sword by its hilt and resting the flat of blade in his palm.

...and then he crumbles a little. his head dips, shoulders slumping—and quaking slightly.

he shouldn't do this in front of barnham, but he can't seem to hold it back completely, either. his hand grips at the hilt so tightly his knuckles turn white, and he's just...

otherwise still and silent for a moment..]

[moraled]

[He knows it's difficult.

He knows it's so, so difficult. Seeing Sara die when she was clearly someone important to Noct can only be... well, difficult. But this is necessary and important, and there's no going back from it. This sword is meant for Noctis.

And so he'll deliver it to him.

But... watching Noct crumble just like that is something that is so much harder than he expected.

He's quiet for a long moment, just staring sorrowfully at Noct's shaking shoulders. What...should he do? He should probably reach out to him. He should probably comfort him in some way. That seems...

Right.

He lifts a hand, but before he gets anyway, he blinks, a little startled, and ends up lifting said hand to his cheeks instead. Ah... weird. He wasn't expecting...tears at all.

But the wetness on his cheeks is something that he can't deny even if he'd want to, and for a moment all he can do is stare bleakly at Noct before he abruptly looks away, at least trying to turn his face away. No, no, no. He can't break here. He's told himself he won't. He's decided that he would have resolve.

Resolve doesn't look like this, a broken knight with tears on his cheeks, unable to even comfort the equally broken prince in front of him.]

[elemancy]

[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.]

[moraled]

[Noctis is a child who must be protected okay!!!

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.]

[elemancy]

...Think you can handle being my shield for a little while?

[there's a hollow amusement to his words, but it's honestly a question that is very earnest.

he doesn't intend to keep barnham here for long—he needs to clean up, and noct thinks the both of them probably need some time to grieve alone. so he doesn't want to make barnham see him for too long in this state.

and he doesn't think barnham really wants that either. they're teetering on the edge of shattering, the both of them. but noct wants to be strong, even if it's a lot to ask for support.

but if barnham doesn't know what to do, noct will give him something.]

Not for long. Just for a bit. [he doesn't really mean it in the way of physical protection, or the role of a true knight to him.

just someone that will be on his side.

that's all he needs, and in turn, he can be a good sword. or spear, or whatever weapon fits.]

[moraled]

[... Can he?

Admittedly, he doesn't really want to do much at all right now, but wallowing in his guilt and distress after such an earnest request from Noct doesn't sit right with him. He thinks of Sara, and how much she'd loved her class, and how much she'd wanted to take care of them and everyone else here--

And he nods.]

I do not "think" so, I am quite certain of it.

[He snorts softly under his breath. He's a knight, he's definitely capable of handling that. He's the most knightest of knights, really, and so he draws himself up and turns to step beside Noct instead of remaining turned away.

It's a start.

A step towards...something. Recovery, perhaps.]

[elemancy]

[it's definitely a start towards something—whether it's recovery or anything else, it's probably a step in the right direction.

there's visible relief in his expression though; hearing barnham agree, and be willing to do that much for him really helps.

it helps a lot, because barham is someone he has an incredible amount of trust as respect for. even as they mourn, even as they suffer, even as things get more and more questionable with who may be in what role, and what they may have to do—

noct still believes in the notion that barnham will do the right thing.

and he trusts in that, which is why he'll trust in barnham to the person to act as a shield in what ways he may need it.]

Thanks.

[he says it quietly, following it up with a sniffle.]

You... should get cleaned up. We can talk about the rest later.

[probably not until something in the next week, but it's fine. for now, he thinks they both should clear their heads, and that barnham should likely wash the blood clean.]

[moraled]

[... Right. He certainly should. He should probably toss these clothes entirely, and get new ones, because... they'll always have Sara's blood on them in one way or another.

Noct will be fine, he thinks. With Sara's sword at his side, and with determination... he'll be fine.

That's enough for Barnham.

He draws in a slow breath, straightens his posture and squares his shoulders, and nods to Noct.]

Indeed. I believe I shall do that.

Until then, Young Noctis.

[He's off, turning on his heel and walking away with certain, determined strides.

For now--he'll be okay.]