Chapter Text
The first time is the easiest, because Noct has no idea what's coming. One moment he's watching Luna asking Titan to lend Noctis his power, as the Archaean forces one final vision into his brain. The next, Titan explodes in a blaze of light. Fragments of his giant body pelt Noct from all angles. He cups his hands over his face, trying to shield his eyes from the debris, but it's hopeless. The pebbles strike him with enough force to bring him to his knees and he flings his hands out automatically to keep from breaking his nose on the ground.
"Noct!"
He hears Ignis shouting his name from too far away. He must've been driven back by the explosion. Gladio and Prompto join the call—also too faint, to Noct's ears, and muffled by the competing sounds of falling rock and sudden bursts of lava, and a low roar that must be the engines of the imperial ships above.
He tries to crawl towards Ignis's voice, keeping his head curled into his chest and eyes firmly shut. Changing direction doesn't seem to help; pieces of Titan hit him from all over no matter which way he faces and his skin stings with each blow, even when it's buried under a couple of layers of clothing. He clamps his lips together, not daring to cry out for fear he'll end up with a mouth full of rubble.
"Noct!"
It's Gladio's voice this time, and closer. Noct tries to crawl faster. The ground under his bare right hand and the exposed fingers on his left is far too hot for him to linger. It should be hurting more, he thinks, but his skin's tingling so much already the additional pain barely registers.
"Noct?"
Prompto. He's reached Prompto. He stops, sagging in relief when he feels a hand on his shoulder. At any rate, he thinks it's a hand. The sensation feels so far removed that he can only just make out the pressure of individual fingers through the weird tingling. At least the barrage of debris seems to have stopped. Noct risks opening his eyes and looks up to find Prompto staring down at him in dismay.
"What?" he croaks out. "You guys probably don't look any better."
"Uh..." Prompto shoots an alarmed glance at Ignis, who returns it with less certainty than Noct's ever seen from him, and turns back to Noct. "I'm pretty sure we do. You might not want to look in a mirror for a while."
All three of them are dirty and dishevelled, coated in dust and ash. Prompto's hair's almost dark enough to match Ignis's. There are smears on Ignis's glasses. The lines of Gladio's tattoo are blurry with grime. None of them seem like they've just taken the same beating from flying fragments of Titan, but he'd been out in the front of the battle. He's bound to look worse. Nothing a hot shower, change of clothing and a curative or two won't fix.
"Right back at you," Noct says, and starts to rise.
There's something off about it, when he tries. His skin's still tingling but it feels tight, as well, like when he stretches out, there's not quite enough of it to cover his body. Must be the scalding heat from the meteorite drying everything out. Make that two hot showers, and maybe some of that moisturising lotion he keeps in the Armiger for the scars on his back.
By the time he struggles to his feet, Gladio's joined Prompto in staring at him. Ignis, of course, is too polite.
"Hey, Noct?" Gladio says. "What happened to your skin?"
"Not now," Ignis attempts to hush him. "We need to focus on finding a way out of here before the entire Disc collapses on us. I'm sure it looks worse than it is."
That sounds suspiciously like Ignis is trying to conceal something awful from him. Noct risks looking down at his hand and immediately regrets it.
It's covered in a lumpy crust, the same earthy brown as the ground they're standing on, broken up by the occasional streak of white. No wonder it feels so stiff. There's not so much as a scrap of his own skin on display. He frantically tries to shake it off, but not even a single speck of dust comes loose.
"What is this stuff?"
"Try to keep calm," Ignis advises. "You appear otherwise unharmed and there's no sense in trying to clean you off in a place like this. We need to leave as soon as possible."
Boulders are still falling around them and lava keeps splashing up to the path from the base of the meteorite. Ignis has a point. The Archaean may have vanished but the danger definitely hasn't.
Even so, Noct can't exactly ignore his current state. "Keep calm? When I'm covered in... rock?" He begins to scratch at his right hand with his left, trying in vain to dig into the crust with his fingernails. It takes him a few seconds of scratching and staring at his hands to realise what's wrong about this already wrong picture.
If he's been coated by debris from Titan, there should be a shell over his skin. Not just his skin, but his clothing too.
But his fingernails, though dirty and ragged, are visible—and with enough clean patches to reveal the rocky layer underneath. With a sinking heart, Noct pushes his wrist brace down his arm. Beneath the black fabric, the same lumpy brown shell awaits him.
He doesn't get the chance to tell the others. An imperial dropship appears overhead and Noct does his best to swallow down his panic. If they're about to be swarmed with enemies he needs to be in control, not freaking out about whatever's happening to him. He can hang on until they're in the Regalia and driving back to the safety of Lestallum. Just a little longer.
But there are no MTs to fight. The only one waiting for them is that creep Ardyn—Imperial Chancellor Ardyn Izunia—and as much as Noct never wants to go anywhere near that man again, he wants to not be burned or crushed to death at the Disc of Cauthess more. He keeps his head down, ducking behind Gladio and letting Ignis speak for them all. It isn't as though they have a choice about whether to leave with Ardyn or try to find their own way out. They can negotiate or fight with an enemy, but it's hard to persuade a falling boulder not to kill you.
It's impossible to hide behind Gladio once they're aboard, however, and when Ardyn gets a good look at Noct his expression transforms from artificially amiable to creepily curious.
"I see someone's had an interesting day." Ardyn reaches out to stroke one gloved finger down Noct's cheek, somehow managing to draw back before Gladio can break his arm for daring to do so. "It's so hard. Tell me, is it like that all over?"
Noct's wondering that himself, not that he's going to say so. The tingling's starting to fade now but the weird disconnect between touch and him feeling it hasn't. It had felt like Ardyn touched him through several thick layers of clothing, not just a glove.
"That's not for you to find out," Ignis says, tartly, and Ardyn only laughs and leaves them to head for the cockpit.