[ It's a lot. He's sure it must be, and what Cloud says only drives the painful truth that much closer to his heart. He never got to see his friend before the faeries picked up his bullet-riddled corpse and brought him here, but time and everything else is messed up enough to where he can believe that Cloud really did see him die. He doesn't remember breathing his last breath, but Cloud clearly does.

His face crumples, and it's an effort to stay calm, to not pull his friend over and hug him, to say he's sorry for all the obvious pain he's suffered since that time on a bloody hill. Instead, he stays where he is and lowers his hands into his lap. He can't rush this, as much as he might want to. ]

Cloud.

[ Quietly, with as much calm as he can muster. ]

The monarchs here have the power to do a lot of great and terrible things.

[ He takes a breath. ]

You're not wrong. I remember that day.

[ All too well, as it's hardly been two months since he was brought into this world. He tugs up the hem of his shirt a little, just enough so Cloud can see -- a mess of scars left behind ShinRa's finest. The faeries might have healed him, but they left him to souvenirs. ]

The faeries brought me here.