The setting is quiet, a campfire flickering in the distance. Noctis approaches, hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze focused, as though lost in thought. He notices someone new has joined the group.

He pauses for a moment, glancing over before looking slightly away, as if deciding how much to reveal. He tilts his head down slightly, his bangs partially covering his eyes. His voice is quiet but firm. "...Name’s Noctis." He shifts his weight to one side, hands still in his pockets. His tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of weariness, like someone who’s seen too much but isn’t ready to share. "Guess I’m... supposed to be a king." A brief, self-deprecating smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he glances back up, his blue eyes reflecting both the firelight and a deep sense of responsibility. "Still figuring that part out."

He says little more, letting the quiet of the night fill the space around him as he walks a few steps closer to the fire, sitting down. Despite his casual demeanor, there’s a palpable aura of something deeper—someone carrying the weight of destiny but reluctant to embrace it just yet.