(debris is in his eyes before long, rubbed at aggressively as he's pulled with a harried grunt to the centre of the ship. jonas has been treated like a ragdoll by this guy twice now, but can't find it in him to complain when he's being kept close. if his safety is being monitored, then he'll return the favour.)

You swam all the way over here— (resilient, jonas thinks, shaking his head) —thinking it was better than just grabbing a plank and floating to Stygia... well, maybe you're right about me being the lucky one, but not for long. We're still sailing for that!

(with one arm hooking the mast, jonas' opposite raises to point. the spires of the structures on one of three immediately visible islands pierce the sky, and staring at it too long drives an instinctual fear between his ribs. his breaths shorten, turning his face away, back to noctis whose humanity is more familiar to him than anything else in this godforsaken place.)

The Reaper called it "The Forge." Before it bailed, it told us we were going to be sold there and... and I don't know. Like you said, it's "nowhere good." So, you coming on board—we can't land there, man.

We've gotta try to move this thing.