Silence. The Jabberwock ate a glaive. He'd seen them before too. The glittering crystalline weapons circling Noctis and unleashed to fight on their own. The sheer power of it hadn't taken away from how beautiful their deadly dance was... He stares down at his glass in thought. Grief whispering up through the cracks of his iron defenses.

'One way or another, they who wield the light of the Lucii have to face the fact that they will burn. One way or another. Even me.'

Shiro's hand clenches on his glass. It has to be done. Someone has to stand against the darkness and push it back. Noctis is that person and yet. That man on the walkway...it all feels like a manipulation and the King is a sacrifice when a better way could be found. Can...it be found? He realizes he'd been silent for a minute or more. Shiro lifts his head and takes a sip to hide his brooding thoughts.

"Those crystal weapons that appeared for you, right? Those are the glaives?"