Laughter echoes around him, piercing his mind, rending him as useless as he feels. The struggle against that which holds him back is a futile effort, and even as his world tears apart in sharp edges, relief doesn't come to him. Darkness envelops the reverb of dread resounding throughout flesh-coated walls, and he's released into the nothingness.
To Noctis, who comes a world of where dawn threatens to never peek over the horizon ever again, this is just as terrifying as the corpses that had dangled above his head. It is in many ways worse, because it represents what would come of his failures -- nothing short of a world that withers in the dark, as the gods wordlessly watch their own creation die.
Fingers tighten into a fist. He can't see, he can't hear, he can't feel, but he's cognizant of his being. But this is not unlike floating in a vast, empty sea, and Noctis feels his dread amplify in the quiet. He reaches out, grasping at something, anything.
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To Noctis, who comes a world of where dawn threatens to never peek over the horizon ever again, this is just as terrifying as the corpses that had dangled above his head. It is in many ways worse, because it represents what would come of his failures -- nothing short of a world that withers in the dark, as the gods wordlessly watch their own creation die.
Fingers tighten into a fist. He can't see, he can't hear, he can't feel, but he's cognizant of his being. But this is not unlike floating in a vast, empty sea, and Noctis feels his dread amplify in the quiet. He reaches out, grasping at something, anything.