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“That thing you told me not to do… I did it.”
The world screeches to a halt.
Ignis claims to hate violence, but Noct’s seen him. Seen him flash-incinerate someone for using a gay slur. Seen him calmly sweep aside the ashes with his shoe before continuing on his way.
Noct remembers, but.
How can one forget the smell of charred flesh when the wind blows it into your nostrils and hair and skin?
Ignis moves, finally. His glasses are gently pushed up the bridge of his nose, but the white knuckles tell a different story.
“Start at the beginning.”