[The scene shifts to another haven, this one bare of everything but the campfire. This haven is nestled under an outcropping of stone, sheltered from the snow drifting down. Under the moonlight, a heavy blanket of white stretches as far as the eye can see, broken by the occasional twiggy tree or hill.
He's desperate, and scared, but works up the nerve to press the red-hot wood to the barcode exposed on his wrist.
It doesn't work. The black lines run deeper than is normal - and really, he should have known. They'd glowed when he touched the scanners in the facility. But he had to try.
He feels another breakdown coming, but Aranea strides in, all leather, heels, and sarcasm, and the scene fades away.]
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Prompto sit hunched by the fire. A half-eaten can of beans sits by his feet, and in his hand is a glowing branch plucked from the fire.
He's desperate, and scared, but works up the nerve to press the red-hot wood to the barcode exposed on his wrist.
It doesn't work. The black lines run deeper than is normal - and really, he should have known. They'd glowed when he touched the scanners in the facility. But he had to try.
He feels another breakdown coming, but Aranea strides in, all leather, heels, and sarcasm, and the scene fades away.]