[It is a soft word. But Noctis doesn't want to go into the details of people huddled in cities, under the harsh relief of floodlights. Of the grand city of Insomnia, crumbling and deserted with the exception of the deamons that patrolled its streets. Those lost to the night. Hope waning, barely present, until recently.
Chaos is enough to get the point across, he thinks.]
(...Yeah. There was, well-)
[The memory is still fresh, the emotions running so high they were sharp and deep and cut into him. That anger. Noctis felt sorry for him.]
(He was angry, to say the least. But after living so long, I think he just wanted me to end it. Apparently immortality isn't all that great.)
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Chaos is enough to get the point across, he thinks.]
(...Yeah. There was, well-)
[The memory is still fresh, the emotions running so high they were sharp and deep and cut into him. That anger. Noctis felt sorry for him.]
(He was angry, to say the least. But after living so long, I think he just wanted me to end it. Apparently immortality isn't all that great.)