[ He's never heard that sound before.

For all his tumbles, for all his collisions with pavement, solid rock, or the unforgiving wood floor of his old training room, Noctis has never heard that sound before. It's wet, like the slap of rain-soaked boots against mud, but also hard like the driving of a tent peg into earth. He's felled a number of beasts far larger than her, some that have incidentally fallen from greater heights, but none so spread out and so eerily absent other sound.

He also knows instantly that he'll never forget it.

His knees hit the ground hard at her side when he rushes over, completely ignoring any tiny glass fragments that choose to stick in him for his trouble -- all minor wounds, nothing, nothing compared to what he's looking at here. ]

Aranea-- fuck. [ There's a twinge of pain in his chest and he knows immediately that it's a reaction from his instinctual, overwhelming desire to access his magic, but he can't do anything to heal this. ]

There's... there's a satellite safehouse near here, alright? I'm going to take you there... so I'm gonna' have to move you.