[It's just...blackness. Blackness and stars. And Noel thinks for a second -- that's not really a big deal. It's just big. That's probably why they call it space, right? It looks cold. Lonely. Nothing unusual.

Then he sees the planet.

Something about it knocks the air from his lungs, in a way; he's never seen a planet before like this, from outside of it. Cocoon was...different. It was nothing like this, huge and meaningful and, Noel assumes, full of a life he's only ever dreamed about. A real, living planet, full of real people living their own lives. He's fixated on the dots, the small spaceships flying around, enough that he barely listens to the Host's explanation. All he knows is-- that's it. Life. What he's always been seeking. A future. And it's…it's not his, but hell, it's something. In the end, his own awe forces him to look away.

The nebula on the other side of the hall is the antithesis of everything he's just witnessed: somehow it takes the shape of the vast chaos that consumed Pulse. Consumed everything. Here, his breath is stolen again, pulse quickening, until he finally looks away, alert to the sounds of footsteps nearby.]

Hey. [You. Yeah, you.] Did you see... [what? Did they see the swirling clouds of damnation incarnate that made him shudder as he looked out the window? When he looks back, it's all gone. It's just...space.] ...never mind. Sorry. This is-- [uh.] Crazy view, right?

[Oh yeah. Nailed that.]

They're throwing a what?

[A…a party, Noel. To be fair, he doesn't look confused so much as incredulous; "in their honor?" What's the catch? He's certainly done nothing worthy of honor; it's all the opposite, really. Who in their right mind would honor a harbinger of wrongness?

…

That said. A guy's gotta eat.

Incredulous as he is about this whole…thing, set in front of Noel is one of every single thing he can get his hands on. For someone who grew up on the canned remnants of a foregone civilization, plus whatever monsters he was able to hunt down, anything is better than nothing—so this is a veritable feast, no matter how it looks. Even food on Nova Chrysalia—or Luxerion, at least; it's been years since he went far outside of the city—was lackluster.

So naturally he's gonna try the most psychotic-looking one first.

The fish head on the cake doesn't make him blink nearly as much as the multicolored stuff on it. He doesn't flinch as he pops some of the fish and frosting into his mouth, but his expression goes through a range of surprised, confused, perplexed, and finally surprised again.

A curious (or maybe concerned) onlooker will get a shrug, at this point.]

It's not nearly as bad as it looks.

[Sure, that sounds promising.]

Nope. No way. Not happening.

[Said shortly after a Host suggests he pick a ship to call his own. What does he look like, a pilot? He feels weird enough not having solid ground beneath his feet; he's been in an airship a total of once, and even then, he rode on top of it, rather than inside. Long story. The point is, no matter how awful the ground has been to him, Noel Kreiss belongs on it.

(Maybe that is not the best point to be making, here.)

His stubborn expression softens a moment later; it's true that if Serah were here, or anyone else he's known… he might give it more of a try. Maybe.] … I wouldn't know what to do with any of the buttons.

[Right, like that explains anything.

He does seem more interested in information about the different divisions, though. He's focused as he checks out the information—so focused that he nearly bumps into someone at the table with him.]

Sorry about that. There's— a lot of people here, huh?

[open to anything and everything! feel free to hmu at posolutely if you want to plot something out!]