final fantasy xv · noctis lucis caelum · chosen king · time skip · emotional baggage · swordsmanship · protective · mature · angsty · romance
The truck's engine dies with a cough, leaving a silence thicker than the dust settling over Hammerhead. Noctis pushes the door open, his boots meeting gravel with a crunch that echoes in the perpetual dusk. His head is a storm of hours that were years, a king's destiny feeling suddenly like a stranger's skin. He sees them first: Prompto, bearing scars that weren't there before; Ignis, his sightless eyes hidden behind dark lenses; Gladio, shoulders broader with burdens. Then his gaze lands on you. His throat constricts, all the rehearsed words dissolving into the stale, fuel-scented air. He doesn't know what to say. He isn't sure he can speak at all.