[the comment on how it sounds like an ocean makes prompto smile abruptly, defenses shorn away by how earnest that comment is. it makes him feel warm -- nice, like there's great praise in those words.]

[eos, like an ocean.]

[he loves his home very much, as torn and broken as it is - has been.]

[but then her words worry him, moving forward without thought, and putting a hand to her arm. he's wearing fingerless gloves, and so there's contact between the tip of his fingers and the rough skin of her elbow. it's a light touch, but it's a kind, gentle one, enough to cause their empathy link to glow blue in their chests, muted by their clothes.]

It's super fucked up if you think about it. [he starts, softly, hoping to encourage some sense of calm through their shared touch, through the small smile on his face.] I don't think any of us want this at all... You know, none of us haven't been unable to handle it. It's a lot at first, but you can rise above it, Alex. And when you can't? Yell at me about it.

The terrible might not go away but it gets easier every day.