[Noctis turn his hand to squeeze Regis's back, grateful, even if it's only for a moment. One final boost of bravery, granting him the strength to at last move his hands to extract the ring from its chain, holding it between his fingers as they hover near to the other, a mere inch away from where it will sit. It's like it knows, immediately, sensing his indecision: the whispers come, indecipherable and scattered, an urgent pull on his soul. Even if the words can't reach him, the sentiment does. Put it on. Finally, finally. Put it on. Rather than encourage him, they make his strength falter, but with Regis at his shoulder, silently supporting him, he pushes past the anxiety forced upon him by the ghosts of the past and at last slides the Ring of the Lucii where it belongs on his finger.
And then screams, instantly, the sound loud and wretched as it's forced from his throat. He jerks in his chair, hunching over and nearly falling, his whole body locked up in sudden and unexpected agony. This can't be right, he thinks, through the pain, through the surge of fire suddenly burning through every vein in his body, bursting in every pore, pulsing with every heartbeat. He feels as if his skin is peeling from his body layer by layer, as if something inside of him is clawing its way out. Not since the Starscourge has he ever felt anything like this. The world around him disappears in that moment- there's no house, no table, no chair, not even his father at his side. Just him and the pain and the ring wrapped around his finger like a vice, ripping him apart, starting from his soul and tearing outwards inch by inch.
What did I do wrong? he wants to cry, clutching his ring hand with the other, trembling as the magic and pain runs its course, as those same whispers fall silent in his mind. Isn't this what you wanted?]
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And then screams, instantly, the sound loud and wretched as it's forced from his throat. He jerks in his chair, hunching over and nearly falling, his whole body locked up in sudden and unexpected agony. This can't be right, he thinks, through the pain, through the surge of fire suddenly burning through every vein in his body, bursting in every pore, pulsing with every heartbeat. He feels as if his skin is peeling from his body layer by layer, as if something inside of him is clawing its way out. Not since the Starscourge has he ever felt anything like this. The world around him disappears in that moment- there's no house, no table, no chair, not even his father at his side. Just him and the pain and the ring wrapped around his finger like a vice, ripping him apart, starting from his soul and tearing outwards inch by inch.
What did I do wrong? he wants to cry, clutching his ring hand with the other, trembling as the magic and pain runs its course, as those same whispers fall silent in his mind. Isn't this what you wanted?]