❪ event ❫ THE DESCENT: PART ONE.

[natha]

THE PROLOGUE     Your sleep on the night of the 15th is not a restful one, unfortunately. It’s unclear whether you are in a state of half-wakefulness, or dreaming. The voices you hear certainly sound very real. What is it, Sael? —Is everyone asleep?! Every one, yes. Sael, it appears you do not have good news to deliver...? N-No! I don’t know how it slipped past us, but there’s something powerful coming this way. Something hostile. I can barely keep the core systems online! ... I don't know what to do... I see... and we cannot protect Thesa and Alria in addition to transferring the Refugees to Olympia. This force, they waited for this moment. They knew I have been Intervening, and that I have become weak from such Interventions— ... We've been had. It cannot be helped. To save the Refugees on the Stations, we must eject the awoken unto El Nysa. My remaining energy shall go into shielding Thesa— left defenseless, every being we have saved on this station will perish... Sael, where is the ideal location for the landing? Hmm. There aren’t any people within a ten mile radius of The Outlook, and there shouldn’t be any for a few more days. I think that’s the best location right now. Very well. Instruct Zasere and Roman to begin preparations for an emergency eject. This is the only way we can save everyone. I am counting on you to ward off the enemy on the space front. The rest... is up to our Refugees. The alarms are blaring. It shouts against your eardrums, calling you to wake again. This time, you are in new pod, strapped down completely and cushioned tightly against the walls. In truth, you had no idea when you’d gone to sleep, but it is reminiscent of when you had been saved from the force of the Storm. A voice greets you when you come to, while the conversation between Darma and Sael is still fresh on your mind. Despite their voices playing like an old tune in your memory, you still know it is something that happened. Something has gone terribly wrong. You hear Darma speak, her voice loud in your head. Fellow Refugee, I wake you with regrettable news. A force equal to our own is attempting to engage Thesa, no doubt to steal the souls contained here. My energy is near depleted with this last Intervention, so I cannot send you to the grounds safely as originally intended. However, there is hope yet.This power shall instead shield Thesa and Alria — and believe in me when I swear no one shall be hurt. Your loved ones are safe with us. —Unfortunately, that is at your expense. Your descent will not be an easy one. This pod that contains you shall pierce through El Nysa's atmosphere and land you on an island west of Olympia, simply called The Outlook. Travel east. Find the West Outpost, then continue east until you find the Olympian North Gate. There is a method to this madness. You shall be sent in waves. The inhumanly strong shall be first. The parachute will soften the landing, but I am aware of all your capabilities. The first wave will survive the drop, and will work tirelessly to secure the others. Find your bearings, and ensure the safety of the second wave. They are the healers and medics. Catch their pods, ease their landings, make certain that they shall not be harmed, because you will need them for your wounds. The third wave are your strongmen. They shall help clear the debris and take people to safety, making way for the fourth wave, those can conjure magic to help. Bring everyone to a safe distance. A supply drop will follow soon after; it shall contain tents and tools that will be useful for the long night. The fifth and sixth waves are largely vulnerable humans. With your combined efforts, you shall survive this great misfortune. Forgive us, Refugee. Leave the Moons to us, my promise to you is still in tact— focus on what you can do for others like you. Helping at least two (2) Refugees will earn you one (1) Natha REP. Threads must be AC length to qualify, and can be submitted HERE by JULY 31st. THE DESCENT     FIRST WAVE. The instructions are clear. Those who are a part of the First Wave should be equipped with physical strength and fortitude to survive the drop or the power to regenerate and heal their own wounds. While the pods are already designed to cushion some of the impact, as this is the first group, it will likely to be the most jarring. In all of the waves, some of the pods will malfunction and offer no cushion at all. They will be expected to quickly find their bearings. Their mission isn’t simply just landing, after all. The first wave will be expected to help the next wave, and the wave after that. Whether through their abilities or brute strength, they will be expected to help soften the landing for those who are falling. They will also be expected to pry open hatches, carry people to safety, and to just... survive. It’s not always easy being first. SECOND WAVE. Within the next hour, it’s time for the Second Wave to make their descent. You were selected based upon your aptitude for healing and/or being able to administer first aid. Perhaps you can help the tired and weary. Maybe those who have landed have have strength, but no stamina. Either way, it may be unwise to exhaust all their abilities at once. The night is long, and you may want to conserve their energy for the next waves to come. At least you’ll have help in getting settled. THIRD WAVE. Akin to the First Wave, the Third Wave will possess some durability, and some manner of strength, making you a reliable ally. Especially in a time of crisis... Or so we hope. While the landing is tough, and some of you may need first aid. As soon as you’re all healed up, you’ll have no time to dawdle. Your help is required. “Please help those still trapped in pods. Carry those unconscious to safety. Lift debris, and rescue all you can.” May be a vague message still stuck in the back of your head. Something whispered to you while you were just waking. Well, might as well roll with it. It’s the best shot you have, after all. FOURTH WAVE. Those in the Fourth Wave, as Darma projects, were selected due to the versatility of their abilities. No one expects one man to do the same as the next. Rather, that’s precisely the point: to be different. To be able to accomplish something unique. While one individual may be blessed with powers that assist in putting out fires, another may have the ability to shield those from oncoming debris. Maybe one even has the ability to channel all of these. Regardless, it’s up to you and your quick wits to see what tasks are open. It’ll take some coordination, especially as there are more people mixing into the fray, but, you can do it, can’t you? FIFTH WAVE. If you are in the Fifth Wave it is likely that you have a specific power or ability. One that isn’t easily channeled or called upon. Or, perhaps, you were merely placed here for insurance. Whatever the case if, your expertise will presently be put to the test. Maybe you’re quite proficient in survival skills, and you’re already eyeing the supplies that were dropped between the Fourth Wave and now. Goods all ready to be salvaged. Okay, maybe some can’t, but as they say, “it’s the thought that counts.” Besides, the injured from earlier certainly need a space to rest, and camp isn’t going to make itself. Regardless, maybe you feel more comfortable joining in the efforts to assist those who still require it. Whatever it is, you are sure to find your place and use. Darma obviously held the same faith. FINAL WAVE. The Final Wave is fortunate in a variety of ways. With Thesa Station a bit more stabilized, Darma utilizes the last bit of her powers in insuring that these last remaining pods are met with the softest landing, right beside the fifth, that is. The fragility of life is nothing she is unfamiliar with, after all. Still, that isn’t to say nothing is expected of you. Most of the individuals that have dropped earlier will likely be exhausted. An hour stretched between each one, makes several hours for the first couple of waves. They'll need a place to relax. You will act as the final group of helpers. Settle into whatever role feels best for you. Are you an excellent cook? Great at rationing supplies? Perhaps, you have a secret skill in ______ that might come in handy here? Or, maybe, despite the gentler landing you still managed to get hurt. The sky's the limit, and you got this! Meanwhile, in the distant kingdom of Olympia, the Empress and her loyal subject discuss matters late into the night... I’ll have the results of that dragon toxin study ready for you soon, Your Highness. I just need a few helpers to— oh wow, is that a meteor shower? Oh yes, it appears so. How beautiful.. hehe. Let us thank Thesa for this blessing. GATHER YOUR BEARINGS     All in all, the descent lasts for nearly seven hours. After the deployment of the last wave of refugees, it’s only natural that you may be feeling pretty worn out. A. Within the remains of the pods, Refugees will find basic camping supplies such as small tents, sleeping bags, and compasses. Not all of the supplies remain intact, thanks to the impact of the crash. But, sharing resources will ensure there is enough for everyone to rest for the night. Can you really in good conscience leave that stranger next to you without shelter? B. Although you may be tired after such a life-threatening ordeal, there is still work to be done to ensure your survival. Fortunately, it works out because now there are plenty of empty hands. There are stray debris and metal parts that should be collected and disposed of. There's firewood that needs to be collected, and campfires to upkeep. The nights in the Outlook are particularly chilly, and so it will be imperative to keep warm! C. Your clothes are tattered or too bloodied to sleep on with comfortably. Fortunately, Darma thought ahead. There will be various types of clothing provided, mostly robes that resemble her own in earthy tones, all to help them camouflage you for your next big adventure. FINAL OOC NOTE     This INTRO event will be broken up into three parts! Please keep this in mind when plotting your threads/tag load. PART 2 will be posted on JULY 18TH and PART 3 on JULY 22ND, at 6 PM EST. In the event of CAPTCHA, we will be providing an overflow. In the event of a second CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP. The NETWORK is currently down, as Sael must concentrate all of his efforts on warding off the invading force. Characters may still message each other's personal IC inboxes. Submit two (2) AC-eligible threads from this log for one (1) Natha Orbiter REP point here by JULY 31ST. Recommended Listening: Alex & TOKYO Rose QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● world ● map ● reputation ● npcs taken ● reserves ● application calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

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campfire prompt masquerading as pain

[daemonized]

[That voice. He knows it.

Ardyn is unmoving for a second or two, and the only thing that betrays he even heard Noctis speak is the way his fingers clench tightly around his scarf as he had moved to adjust it again. The other young man can't see it, of course, not from this angle -- for all he might assume, Ardyn is actually ignoring him.

Far be it from that being the case.

He drops his hand, and immediately he feels it swell within him -- that whirlwind of emotion that he had just managed to press down and neatly pack away, for the sake of a quiet moment in front of the fire. How easily Noctis' words pick all of that apart, and suddenly he's met with that swirling frustration and anger and spite and tiredness that he carries within him, brought to the forefront at the promise of being met with the Chosen King.

Ardyn actually lets out a laugh, low and undeterminable, before he stands to his feet. All six-foot-three of him, as if he were a shadow unfolding to its full height, cast stark against the light of the bonfire.]

Well, if it isn't Noctis.

[He's so sure of it, that when he turns around, meeting the boy face-to-face, he makes certain to greet him with a wide grin.

What he sees, of course, only proves to flare that anger up further. It was him, certainly -- Noctis Lucis Caelum, the one destined to fell him once darkness had descended upon Eos. The one whom he had waited for, for so long, to finally put an end to it all. But it was the wrong him. There would be no power overflowing from this King. Still all too young, still far too irritated to see him; look at the way he was clenching at that firewood, as if he was going to break them all in two, just upon laying eyes on him.

This shouldn't come as a surprise to Ardyn, not really. He had already stumbled across Prompto earlier, having seen that the boy was younger than he remembered as well. But Prompto was disposable, unimportant. Noctis, however, had been a key figure in his plans, and though these machinations had been laid to waste so swiftly by the Storm, there's something about seeing walking proof of his work undone, glaring at him like that, that really gets under his skin.

And so his words are practically spat out, despite himself. He opens his arms wide in a mocking gesture.]

Did you miss me?

mountains of pain ... plus salt

[noctsout]

[ It'd be just his luck that Ardyn doesn't, that he doesn't ignore him in lieu of holding himself as still as the nucleus of a brewing storm. Just Noct's luck that his own legs won't move, making craters out of the dirt upon which his boots are digging themselves home, holding him prisoner to the mismatch of emotions that keeps twisting (and twisting and twisting) at his gut, a bad reaction to all that he'd been now made to know. Things that had been made defunct in the wake of Eos' destruction, the Crystal's loss beyond the power that Noct still carried within him. The realization that this could all be postponed indefinitely if he'd only the willpower to walk away, to-- what, forget?

Hah, right. Let him get right on that.

The hurt left behind by the serrated edge of his losses wasn't so cheap that it could be so easily forgotten, made only weeks old by the persistence of memory. (Eos' loss is a suffocation best left to be suffered in the safety of solitude, the worry that gnaws relentlessly at his thoughts when the world grows thin of its distractions. A loss that's just barely eased by Darma's promise of his people's safety, whole and safe and asleep as he'd been. A promise of revival that does little in the way of appeasing the trauma of having watched Luna's life bleed out on the end of Ardyn's knife, the way that she'd slipped away from him, lost when she'd just been found.) There's no forgiving the destruction laid upon Insomnia, the loss of his father at the hands of the Empire that this asshole had served, the pain laid upon his friends. The reality of being the recipient of a grudge of over a millennia old did little to cushion the bitter aftertaste of all that drags him down, the bitter edge of defeat as he remembers the Crystal's pull, juxtaposed over Ardyn's monologue. ]

Like a sore thumb, maybe.

[ There's no safe iteration that his hands can take but the one that keeps them occupied with firewood, and it's all so terribly awkward, if a little bizarre, this little showdown of theirs against the heat of campfire in the aftermath of disaster. ]

Couldn't even do us the favour by staying asleep, could you?

[ Go ahead and tower over him. Noct has the fortitude of bluster on his side, tipping up his chin, eyes narrowed upon the source of all contempt. (Sown into history by his ancestor and nurtured by the Gods', a mistake so great that it'd take the likes of Noct to fix? It'd been difficult to believe then and it's even more difficult to swallow now, having to face down the one that he'd been meant to slay to bring back the light like any other bad fairytale.) Better that Ardyn puts those two thousand years to use by walking away first, Noct's gonna take a while. ]

[daemonized]

[It would be foolish to expect Noctis to be happy to see him, of course. He knows quite plainly of the loss that he's inflicted upon the boy, all of it purposefully done. This should be enough to give rise to his sadism, to smile in twisted earnest, knowing that he's stirring the proverbial pot of Noctis' emotions. The same way his become fervent and poisonous within him, upon hearing the other's words.

But no such thing happens. The grin is sharp yet hollow, bitter and cold. He'll gladly tower over him, and if the Chosen King was going to stand planted to the ground, like a tree rooted against the storm, Ardyn would move forward, his stride languid, casual, but his gaze cutting.]

And why would I do something like that?

[There's irony in that question, Noctis. Ardyn wonders just how much he realizes it. He's close now, having stepped forward a few paces more, enough to really get a good look at the young man, staring at him so defiantly. If anyone believed either or these two to simply walk away, they would be highly disappointed right about now.]

You're the one who was supposed to be taking a very long, extended nap, you know.

[He refers to the Crystal, of course. He refers to the way that Noct is not how he remembers him, all fire and no dignity. No bearing of a true king, not in Ardyn's eyes.]

[noctsout]

[ And what would he care for what Ardyn thinks, what would constitute as kingly in the eyes of a man who fell both Insomnia and the Empire? There's no irony that he can find in his words, not when he'd barely had a chance to close his eyes after Bahamut had left him to drift into the Crystal's light and magic, giving him what had felt like seconds to close his eyes before they'd been peeled back open in the wake of Darma's words, echoing in the place of his thoughts, soothing him of the grief that had gripped him anew when Eos was diagnosed as lost.

Because he's all fire, raw materials to the man that would have been a willing sacrifice to do right by his bloodline (for once, after so many generations of flourishing under that one mistake), and like all raw materials, he's rough in his glare, digging splinters into the pads of his fingers that he'll have to dig back out after he's done resisting the scream of his instincts to take a step back. To put distance between them, to buffer any blow that may come as a result of their oh-so-warm reunion.

'Cause was that a threat? There's no way to know with the riddles that Ardyn regularly spun out of his words. ]

Think I slept long enough, thanks.

[ The offer of more sleep isn't anything that Noct would have normally found argument in, but coming from Ardyn, well. ]

Unlike you. Thought you'd like those pods, seeing the kind of things that you and your Imperial buddies kept around.

[daemonized]

[All raw material, indeed. Unrefined, untempered. Potential brimming under the surface, but nothing to show for it now -- only an irritable prince with power that he found unacceptable, not nearly strong enough to achieve what Ardyn had wanted, in the end.

And so it's not so much a threat than it is a stark observation. An unforgiving one.]

No, Noctis, you didn't sleep long enough. Believe me, I would know. [The remark about the pods and their correlation with the Niflheim foot soldiers only seems to amuse him, though, letting out a scoff.] And I can't say I don't have an appreciation for the pods. Though I don't particularly like being tossed into one myself. But it doesn't matter-

[He opens his arms wide, theatrical as always, even when his mood is literally in the dumpster.]

-because I'm here now. Can I ask you something? [He drops his hands, and proceeds to ask anyway. He doesn't need Noctis' permission.] What was the last thing you remember from Eos?

[Noctis' reference to sleeping "long enough" gives him an idea, as do the reference to the pods, but he only wishes to confirm it.]

[noctsout]

[ Can Ardyn stop doing that, that thing with the arms, when he's standing so close? He'd never asked for a front-row seat to this walking human(-ish) disaster. Noct would swat at him if his arms weren't so graciously occupied by the mercy of holding firewood. Firewood that he most definitely should be putting to use by tossing it in the fire sooner rather than later, lending him excuse to walk away.

'Cause what reason was there left for him to justify fighting this man with no Gods, no Crystal, no Eos to deliver away from darkness? (No reason other than the ones that burned as poison from the depths of his memory.) ]

Right. Like you don't already know. [ He's not bitter about it. He's not. Ardyn hadn't pushed him into the Crystal, only-- stood there while Noct was getting devoured, anxious and frantic for the friends that he'd had to left behind for, what, a trip into the world of light? Oh, and the monologue, of course. Yeah, he's definitely not bitter. ] The hell would you want to know that for anyway?

[ Digging his heels in over so simple a question: Noctis Lucis Caelum, ladies and gentlemen. ]

[daemonized]

[Noctis just brushes past him, but Ardyn turns his body to follow him with his gaze. He doesn't believe for a second that the prince isn't acutely aware of his exact presence at any given moment in time, even if he pretends to turn his back to him, as if Ardyn were not worth the effort nor his time.

He'll just have to deal with the sound of his footsteps drawing closer, then. His expression turns into something even more patronizing than it was before, his intonation reflecting this all the same.]

And what kind of question is that? [These are important questions to be asking, Noctis, even if he's low-key(???) fending off agitation the whole time. Of course he would ask. It was essential in understanding just what everyone knew about him, what everyone remembered.]

Time has treated us all in a very fickle way, you know. [He stops, just a couple feet away from Noctis.] None of us align, not the way that we should.

[He's from TEN YEARS IN THE FUTURE, why is it that no one else is the same]

[noctsout]

[ Leave your old man woes at the door, Noct's not interested.

But Ardyn would be right, Noct's shoulders and back are a mess of tension, muscles pulled taut and ready for the any sort of sign that this encounter will take a turn for the unfortunate-- for himself or for Ardyn, that's a toss up. (For himself. Obviously.) Crippled as he is without the full might of his Armiger, the majority of his weapons locked away with only the Ring and the blade that his dad had once wielded to act as stopgaps for any timely injuries, Noct's still damn determined to make this as irritating as possible. And if he had to leave scratches and dusts of Holy all over this smug asshole, then so be it. ]

Which-- still tells me nothing as to why you'd be so interested. [ Typical. As usual.

Except for he could actually infer, how he knew enough to be able to. Understood enough, too, as to why Ardyn may be invested enough to be asking (twice, even), especially after having spoken to Aranea. But knowing it doesn't help that much at all when the people in question looked exactly the same.

And-- okay, alright. He can't do this. Noct turns back around after the mere seconds of attempting his disregard, if only to ease the shudder that had been crawling down his spine at having exposed his back to someone who was likely very well-practiced in stabbing them. ]

What, you got even more secrets that you wanna hide? [ C'mon, spill the beans, Ardyn. Bahamut already did. ]

[daemonized]

[Noctis is being frustrating, and Ardyn just knows that it's on purpose. Honestly, if the boy was itching for a fight (he can tell by how tightly wound he was, that it wouldn't take much on his part to instigate one), Ardyn would be more than happy to oblige. And when the prince turns on his heel to face him, all defiance, he half expects for it to happen.

Instead, another question thrown into his face. One with an implication behind it, one that wasn't difficult to unravel from Ardyn's perspective. After all, his secrets were spilled ten years ago -- this was all old hat to him, just repeating himself once more. A waste of breath, if Noctis truly did already know.]

I've already told you my secrets. Surely you don't want me to repeat them all over again to you. Family should always be courteous enough to thoroughly listen the first time around.

[There it is then, that bomb drop, that word heavy with everything that he hated -- family. He says it as confirmation and he says it as a joke; as if using the word in all its closeness was a misuse of its meaning.

It might as well be, with these two.]

[noctsout]

[ Of course it's on purpose, he'll take all manners of victories that he can, now that he knows what a true triumph over Ardyn would entail. What it'd require in compensation and the consequences inherent in shying away from his duty, the unfairness of it all. (Not that it would've stopped him, had Eos continue to stand. He would have gone through with it, but it didn't make any less fair.) He's stiff with his continued contempt, fingers curled into fists that he knows he will stay for as long as Darma's words and promise held true.

Held back despite how much he wanted to materialize his father's blade to continue the prophecy as foretold instead of adding fuel and literal firewood to the fire, awkward in how incapable they are at walking away. Maybe they really are related, and that-- ]

Family. [ How much flatter can his voice get? Let's try.

And let's plainly give away how unsurprised at this he sounds, as if this is the second (or third, considering Bahamut) time that he may be privy to this bombshell that Ardyn is so casually dropping. ]

So I should be making you tell me a second time, then. [ His only family had been dead, and his found ones? Currently missing, but he'll find them. The man standing before him though falls under neither category, lineages be damned. ]

[daemonized]

[He doesn't expect Noctis to react with shock or surprise. This is not so much a revelation as it is a repetition, events he's already said in the past. Events that a certain wretched astral probably reiterated to him with even more bombast while he slumbered in the Crystal -- for however long that might've been.

Nor is he surprised when the word family is tossed right back at him like the unwanted thing that it is. Given that there's no fondness for the term, no warmth, it certainly doesn't insult him in the least. If anything, he's glad for the rejection, and if it was meant to sting, Ardyn certainly doesn't feel it.]

I'm hurt, Noctis. [He's not. He so obviously is not.] Whether you like it or not, you are a part of my bloodline. [A finger to poke at his chest. Just to annoy him more. He dares him to do anything about it.] An inescapable fact.

[noctsout]

[ Had he been allowed to sleep a little longer than the few days since Bahamut's reveal, since the Storm had taken all of Eos, if he'd been given ten more years, perhaps there'd be something beyond rejection. Beyond the pain and the automatic sort of denial that came with the understanding that Ardyn's words were true. Even sympathy, perhaps.

As it stands, the finger to his chest can merit no more than a furious swat, slapping that offense away with enough force to make him press a step back. ]

Which still doesn't make you my family. [ There's more to family than just blood, after all, people that could be treasured beyond such bonds. ] Nothing's going to change that either.

[ Walk away, walk away, walk away. ]

Just-- stay away from us, got it?

[daemonized]

[His hand is swatted away, but he takes absolutely no offense to it, not even a flickering of frustration. Instead, he merely lets it drop to his side, as if he had meant to do that much anyway, as if Noctis' little swipe was of no consequence at all.]

It makes me blood. [Blood departed and divided by millennia, two thousand years worth and then some. But to Ardyn, whose spite against the Lucis Caelum line runs deep, defines his very being -- this is family enough. Blood labels Noctis not as a stranger, but simply as another member of a dynasty that he wishes to see ultimately end.

So, staying away from him? That's not going to happen.]

That's all that matters to me, Noctis. You'll be seeing me around whether or not you like it; in what capacity, just yet, I haven't quite decided. Everyone seems to be so intent that we should let go of our motivations, of our goals, from our worlds. That they have little meaning here, not as poignant as they were before. I say that's not true at all.

[He lacks the ability to let go so easily.]

[noctsout]

[ It's blood that he hadn't even wanted, even before when he'd been blissfully unaware of the trainwreck of a person that circumstance and human greed had turned Ardyn into. He'd never wanted it, the right to inherit a dynasty that'd done nothing but to take his father's health and his life, that'd dictated his fate, his place, before he'd even been old enough to process such concepts. The only family that he knows is the memories that'd driven him forward despite his misgivings, the loyalties to those that he cannot help but burn with the need to protect.

Which wasn't going to happen unless Ardyn could keep himself well enough away. The hell did this guy even want with them anymore, when there was no more Crystal, no Eos. No more Gods to pull at their strings. ]

Speaking for yourself and no one else as usual. [ Not all of them were 2000 years old and crusty with a grudge. Ardyn, please. ] The hell do you think there's left for us to even do with a world that's been--!

[ Swallowed up. Gone. And that, too, was a source of pain, failures that he knew were not his own, and yet. ]

I know, alright? What the hell it was that you'd wanted. [ That Ardyn still wants, probably. ] But there's no more Crystal, no Gods, there isn't-- anything. That we've left. [ Nothing left that they could change, that could be changed, not when Darma had made such a compelling case with evidence strewn about them as crashed pods and a population of stranded refugees. ] And until you've got any great ideas on how to change that, I'm 'fraid you're stuck like the rest of us.

[daemonized]

[Noctis has a general idea of what his goals were, but as for what he wanted? The two were related, but in some ways very different. He scoffs at the young prince, dripping into facetiousness, eyes scanning his expression, finding only indignant signs there.]

Please, Noctis. Don't presume to know exactly what it was that I wanted.

[(To rest. To die. Revenge was just a vehicle, satisfying and potent, on the way to this goal. The biggest middle finger to the gods and the Prophecy he could manage, while adhering to it all the same. He wonders, really, if Noctis would ever understand this.

He'll give no indication of it today.)]

You, who can't probably think straight as it is, given how blinded you must be with anger in this very moment. I don't expect for you to see the bigger picture.

[The real translation of that: The infinitely more personal picture.]

[noctsout]

That's rich, coming from you.

[ The nuances of Ardyn's wants is still beyond his reach, that's true, but revenge? Revenge, Noct understands, because revenge is how Ardyn had framed his story. The augmentation of which had been provided by Bahamut shortly thereafter, the consequences of his ancestor's actions. It's rich and it's more than a little chafing to hear such words from a man that had acted in consequence of his own damn anger, leaving innocent people (Luna) to suffer in pursuit of vendetta.

So of course Noct can't see it, the nuances of Ardyn's desires. The personal spin to the picture that he waves. 'Cause as far as Noct's concerned? Things have been nothing but personal since this'd all started. ]

Fine, then. Why don't you tell me what I'm missing? [ He's gone, otherwise. He'll... walk away. he will. ]