[ She follows the line of his gaze over to that small form, holds it a little longer - it almost feels like an insult to look away, like she's trying to deny the gravity of what happened to the girl, but in the end the horror of it wins out over any guilt - before her attention snaps back to Prompto's face. ]
Apocalypse?
[ It had felt like it, sure. Those things swarming in, worse than the daemons, and then - well. But Prompto's usually given to a very different kind of hyperbole, and it doesn't sit right. ]
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Apocalypse?
[ It had felt like it, sure. Those things swarming in, worse than the daemons, and then - well. But Prompto's usually given to a very different kind of hyperbole, and it doesn't sit right. ]