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secret-engima · 5 years

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(Slaps table) give me Nox angst. Like—Nox having a Verg Very Bad Quiet Day, and he's like trying to get away from people to /hide/ somewhere—but some snobby noble comes across him and says something snide, something horrible, that it breaks Nox's already fragile headspace and he just—crumbles. Regis/Cid/whoever you want, coming around the corner just beside the snide comment and just—seeing Nox breaking apart, falling like loose seams on a patched hole, glass shattering on marble floor.

....

.......

Ohhhh boy. Oh dear. Welp. OKAY. BUT YOU ASKED FOR THIS. Also this went majorly sideways. Yay for angst and medical side-effects of magic.

-Nox is already having a bad day. He woke up having a bad day, because the nightmares had been horrible, horrible enough that Noctis had come and curled against him, but even that hadn’t helped much. And he’s tried to put it behind him, and wear his masks, and smile nicely, because he’s not a coward and he’s not lazy, so he’ll suck it up and deal like a big boy.

-Until eventually he just- can’t.

-He can feel himself on the very, very edge of a Quiet Day, can feel his words leaving him behind and the world getting grey around the edges as memories whisper-whisper-whisper, so he excuses himself and retreats, aiming to go ... somewhere. Anyway. Away from people, away from prying eyes. Maybe the garden. The garden is usually empty this time of day and there are plenty of hidden nooks where he can just sprawl out and doze his Quiet Day away until his headspace settles again.

-“Ah, young Lord Nox,” no-no-no-not-now-please-not-now Nox ducks his head and tries to swerve around the nobleman, he doesn’t know which one he is, doesn’t care. The man steps into his way and Nox is forced to stop or run him over. Nox tries to focus on the man’s face, because eye contact is polite, but he can’t. He can’t and the world is getting grayer and the man is talking but Nox can’t quite hear him, let alone muster the mental energy to respond. A shaky glance upward and he sees the man’s lips are pursed and something cruel is glittering in his gaze.

-Past the whispering in Nox’s ears, somehow- somehow he still hears the man’s next words with perfect clarity, “Just the lack of manners and intelligence I would expect from a by-blow.” A sniff and the world still, crystalizes like old, brittle glass in Nox’s head as the man’s nose tilts upward and he sneers, “It must be such a burden on the king, to have to keep you around and smile like he actually cares about you. As if that will fool the rest of us into trusting a half-blood welp.”

-And Nox.

-Shatters.

-“The king entrusted the role of protector to you.”

-“Then why didn’t he tell me that? Why did he stand there smiling as I left? Why ... did he lie to me?”

-Empty words broken words broken time lost time shame-shame-liar-liar- sad eyes knowing eyes what do you know why-are-you-looking-at-me-like-that-whywon’tyoutrustme-

-Why didn’t you tell me?

-Are you ashamed of me?

-“Dad...”

-Sword and armor and glowing ghosts. Magic and memory and the agony of a father’s hand shoving the blade through his heart to the hilt

-Do you at least...

-“Trust me.”

-enough to sit still and die for our people?

-Dying and dead and gone, heart stopped breathing stopped everything stopped as the Void drags him in and he doesn’t have time to do more than wonder-

-Are you proud of me now?

-And then he’s under and gone and lost and there is no air he needs no air he is dead and gone and the blue is all around and he doesn’t need to

-“-breathe! Nox you need to-”

-breathe because what use is air to a dead man dead king dead prince shameful prince who at least was useful when he sat still and let others kill him so that others could

-“Breathe! Come on, snap out of it and-”

-breathe in the light of a new dawn. The least he could do was follow his father’s last orders to

- “My son. Breathe.”

-.....

-Dad?

......

-Cor has no idea really what just happened. He was on his way to deliver some paperwork to Clarus when he rounded the corner and found Nox, shoulders hunched and expression rapidly blanking with that fragile way that meant he was sliding into a Quiet Day and some lesser nobleman standing in his way saying, “-burden on the king, to have to keep you around and smile like he actually cares about you. As if that will fool the rest of us into trusting a half-blood welp.”

- Over the nobleman’s shoulder, Cor has the perfect view of all the blood rushing out of Nox’s face. He sees Nox’s face twist into something broken and lost and terrible, and even as he drops all his paperwork to the floor to angrily drag the nobleman away from Nox and throw him against the wall he knows that he’s too late to stop whatever damage the man intended to cause.

-He flings the man away from Nox with a snarl that doesn’t cover the strangle, gasping cry that drags out of Nox’s throat as the boy staggers back like he’s been physically struck. He half turns toward the nobleman to do far worse than throw him against the wall but an instant later Cor is whirling and diving for Nox as the boy just-

-Drops. Like a puppet with cut strings, his magic surging into the air without control, strong enough to knock paintings off the wall and rattle teeth, but Cor doesn’t care about that, about the potential damage or the way the world turns cold because Cor can FEEL Nox’s magic now.

-He can feel it shattering into a thousand glass shards, twist and writhe like the trembling death cry of a mortally wounded animal before it crumbles away and pulls so tightly into Nox’s core that Cor can’t feel any trace of it even through their skin contact as he frantically keeps Regis’s eldest son from cracking his head open on the marble flooring.

-Cor dimly hears the nobleman (scum) saying something but doesn’t know or care what it is, because Nox has gone deathly pale and he’s shaking and gasping with vacant eyes, like he’s drowning deep underwater. There’s a glassy, empty look to Nox’s eyes that even the worst of his previous Quiet Days never gave him, and some instinct has Cor speed dialing the Citadel medical floor and roaring for a medic.

-He’s right to call for a medic.

-Something in Nox’s frame twitches, like the flinch from being stabbed.

-And Nox.

-Stops breathing.

-Cor’s memory gets fuzzy after that from panic. He remembers yelling at Nox, he remembers slapping the boy’s cheek only to gain no response, frantically feeling for a pulse and finding one going too fast and too slow by turns like his heart is struggling to pick a rhythm and then helping that rhythm as best he could with CPR. He remembers the medics arriving, with Regis on their heels, positively flying down the hall despite his bad knee, drawn from ten floors away by the pulse of magic Nox had given out before collapsing.

-He thinks he remembers, amid the frantic flurry of medics and their tools, one of them saying that something was trying to stop Nox’s heart.

-The nobleman, now pinned down by furious crownsguard and loomed over by a screaming Axis, insists he didn’t even touch Nox, Cor can reluctantly confirm.

-It’s Ardyn, who just arrived in a furious pulse of magic, who goes pale and says, “His magic.”

-No one understands until Ardyn whirls on Regis and snarls, “His magic! It’s reacting to a flashback! It’s keeping him from breathing!”

-A medic looks up, halfway saying that they’ve never heard of magic doing anything like that in all the records of caring for Lucis Caelums but Ardyn snaps a hand out and growls, “It’s rare but it happens, believe me. Magic is will and memory and he is remembering something that was killing him. His magic is trying to protect from a threat that isn’t there, that continues to assault him no matter how tightly it guards and in the trying his magic is smothering him. Regis, you need to drag his magic out of his body. Out of his core, I’d do it myself but I’ll just make it worse. You are his father, his magic will respond to you.”

-Regis’s face loses all color, Cor feels sick, then Regis is pushing his way past the medics to clutch Nox’s hand. Magic rises and pulls and tugs with a desperation Cor can taste, “My son, my son wake up,” Regis begs.

-Nox does not respond. His eyes are vacant, so deep inside his own head that Cor fears any moment he will be dead and Cor won’t even be able to see a difference.

-Regis’s grip firms, and something unravels in the air between them, “My son. Breathe.”

-And with a stuttering wheeze, Nox’s magic suddenly unspools from his core (from his heart, Cor realizes with a lurch of his stomach, Ardyn had been right, his magic had been curled so tight around Nox’s heart and lungs and throat it had been keeping them from functioning). It unspools and Cor can physically feel the cracks in it, the shivering aches and cold memories trapping Nox in whatever nightmare caught him through the nobleman’s words.

-Ardyn sags in relief as Nox very slowly begins to breathe again, and Regis is shaking as he keeps his hands on Nox’s, keeps gently dragging Nox’s magic out into the air until the world is tinted blue and crystalline shards swirl around them like gently falling snow. Nox doesn’t react as the medics strap an oxygen mask to his face and load him onto a stretcher that Regis follows the entire way to the medical wing.

-Cor swallows his own heart back down to where it belongs, then straightens and turns to the nobleman with vengeance humming in his veins.

-Nox wakes up in the medical ward three days later, aching and sore and disorientated, but breathing on his own and free of the oxygen mask. He looks over dazedly and sees Regis slumped over in a chair, dozing lightly with Nox’s hand clutched in his own and their magics so tangled together that it takes a minute to figure out where his magic ends and Regis’s begins.

-Ardyn is on Nox’s other side, stretched out on another medical bed fast asleep with dark bags under his eyes, and Nox will later learn that Titus drugged Ardyn’s tea to make him sleep.

-When Regis wakes up and finds Nox awake, he starts to cry and Nox stares in confusion.

-Medics fuss and people explain what they know. Nox refuses to say what flashback drove him to such a dangerous low.

-Ardyn watches him rub fitfully at his chest over his heart and already knows.

-Much later, days later, after Regis finally calms enough to return to being king rather than hover at Nox’s side everywhere he goes, Ardyn murmurs, “He is proud of you, you know. And he loves you greatly. And he did back then as well.”

-Nox thinks of the Regis of this time, who smiles and laughs, who goes out of his way to spend time with him for any reason. He thinks of fishing trips with him and Regis and Noctis, happy memories that were so much fewer in his past life. He thinks of the corners of Regis’s eyes crinkling in amusement at some joke or story, so much lighter when he looks at Nox than he used to look at Noctis.

-But he also thinks of a last smile on sprawling stone steps, last minute advice that could never cover everything he wanted to say. He remembers asking for trust and getting a sword through his heart.

-“I know he did.” He whispers back, and for once Ardyn is kind enough not to call out his lie.

#SE asks #oliverslewty asks #Nox verse #Secret Engima Rambles #angst warnings #possible trigger warnings #i have no idea how to tag those #but this thing got ... intense

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selisekinsolving · 5 years

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Cherysa left Selise to her paperwork about an hour ago. The bells chiming six o’ clock reminded her that she should have left as well or she was going to be late. A brief revving sound came from the street out front, followed by a loud knock on the door.

Selise rose and answered it herself. “Evenin-”

A void elf stood on the stoop, carrying an unconscious man on his back. The sight threw her for a second, but she recognized the goggles on the man’s face. She stepped to the side with a frown and motioned inside. “Straight back.”

Drahs was jostled by the elf as he stepped inside. The elf offered a glance to the woman as she came over and dropped him firmly onto the nearest chair. “This is yours, right?” He grunted. He turned and left, leaving the human in the chair without another word.

Selise scowled at the question, but was looking over Drahs to gain her bearing on the situation. "What happened?" By the time she asked the question, the chimes on the front door were already ringing as the elf left. "Stuck up..." She extended her palms over Drahs, a brief glow coming to her hands, followed by an extremely troubled look. The glow intensified, focusing on the broken ribs and shallow breathing. “Drahs, can ya hear me?”

Drahs slowly regained consciousness and began hacking and wheezing; intensely and continuous. His expression changed into shock as he looked around. He clasped a hand over his mouth as pain wracked his body, both from the coughing and the broken bones.

"Cor!" she called over her shoulder and the arcane familiar appeared in a matter of seconds. At the sight of Drahs, it kept its distance. "Intravenous painkillers, cough suppressants." She fished in a pocket and held out a handkerchief to him.

He shakily took the kerchief and began hacking into it violently. The brief moment Sel could see his palm she noticed the blood staining the palm, both old and new. Sweat and tears begin pouring down Drahs' face as he did his best to regain himself.

Selise didn't comment on the sight of the blood. She stepped away briefly to grab the tray that Cor brought to the doorway. Setting it on the table, she pulled on a pair of gloves and moved to roll up the sleeve of his right arm. She made quick work of cleaning the area and drawing up the syringe followed by injecting the painkiller. “Take two of the round pills when you can, it'll help..." Said medicine was on the tray along with a small cup of water.

Drahs immediately slammed the pills into his mouth as the painkiller was injected, drinking the water greedily. The water itself seemed to help calm him as his coughing fit started to ebb away, though rather slowly. Blood began staining the kerchief as well but he still planted it over his mouth as his fit continued.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and muttered a word. An aura of calm and somewhat bolstered energy extended from the priest throughout most of the room. "One second." She stepped away again and came back a few moments later with a full pitcher of water which she set on the table.

Drahs wheezed slightly, but turned his head away. He did his best to hide the condition of the handkerchief. "Evening Graves...wasn't expecting to see you tonight." He wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow and poured another glass of water.

Another clean handkerchief was placed on the desk in front of him. Selise wheeled her chair over to take a seat. "I would say the same...a rather rude elf dropped you in here. It's Kinsolving now, but I suppose that doesn't quite roll off the tongue the same way." She offered a weak smirk. "What happened?”

He offered a weak smile as he took the new handkerchief. "Oh you tied the knot? Congratulations! I'm sorry I missed the wedding, I was probably busy with work at the time. You know how that goes." It was a poor attempt to avoid the conversation.

Selise rose a brow. "No apology necessary, we kept it between the two of us." She frowned at him. "I haven't seen you in months, I thought you were on a case but..." she looked him over again and her voice was softer as she continued. "I didn't know it had gotten this bad."

Drahs stiffened slightly. He fell into another brief coughing fit into his rag, but mostly ignores the pain. Apparently she had given him some of the really good stuff. He lowered his head as he sighed. "...I'm dying Sel."

She sat back a bit at that. A brief look of indignation crossed her features. "Who-" But then realization set in. "You've been going to Splint instead." Her posture wilted somewhat and she looked at the bloodstained cloth. "I don't - this is coming on too fast, there could be options, what happened?" Her hurried speech and expression gave away the bit of panic that set over her which was briefly blocking out the fact that she knew good and well that Splint was a more experienced medical professional than she was.

Drahs winced at her obviously hurt expression. "My..." He was hesitant to respond. "My lungs are rotting...my immune system can't handle it anymore and..." He let out another cough. "The damage has already spread too far to stop..."

Selise just stared for a moment then quickly looked at the desk, the bookshelf, the door, anything. She took in a deep breath before looking back at him. "How long?" she asked quietly.

Drahs’ grip tightened on the cup in his hands. His body tensed up even more than it had. "...Five days...at best..."

That seemed to do the trick. Her composed expression broke and she looked away again. "I'm sorry," she managed in a shaky tone as she ran a hand over her face. "W-what are doing out running around? You should at least be taking something for the pain." She regained a bit of her normal tone when speaking about something vaguely work related.

“Splint...gave me some painkillers. I've already gone through most of the batch. Look I should...I have some things I need to finish. I...was really hoping to avoid this conversation. I'm sorry.”

Her brows knit together at his statement. "You...what, you were going to..." she stared at him for a moment and then abruptly got out of her chair. She crossed to one of the cabinets that was locked and retrieved a bottle of painkillers. Sel went back to her seat, setting the bottle on the desk in front of him wordlessly.

Drahs sat there at a loss for words. His face pale and tired, deep lines running across his gaunt cheeks. He slowly turned to face the bottle. "You don't have to..."

“No, I don't, but I want to. I'm sure Splint has yelled at you enough for the both of us and...I'm not going to make you sit here and listen to someone mourn you. But we're friends, yes?”

“I'll be frank...you're one of the few and best I have left…”

Selise paused. "And I would say the same. So...you can understand my feelings on the matter if you were in my shoes."

Drahs coughed for a few moments. After his brief fit he took a deep breath. "I do..." He looked down at the blood staining the handkerchief. "...Can I confide in you Sel?"

“Of course.”

“I'm scared…”

“I know. Which part?”

Drahs leaned against the table once more. His gaze drifted to the wooden structure. "Not knowing what's going to happen when I pass. The lives I'm leaving behind. The..." He buried his head in his arms. "I...I don't know. I always figured I'd probably die but to go like this. The waiting. It's maddening.”

Selise reached out to place a hand on his arm, her grip tightened gently. "Don't wait, continue your daily routine. Take the medication. I can give you stronger if you need it, you don't have to feel pain through the process. And...if you're worried about the reactions of those you leave behind, about their feelings about it...that part can't be helped, but it will be okay. They will be okay."

Drahs gripped the cup in his hands and finally released it. He took in a deep breath, though that might've been a bad idea as it set him to coughing. "Thank you..." He sighed. "I have one last request to make."

Selise pulled her hand away with some reluctance. She nodded and did her best to continue in a normal tone. "Which is?"

“I don't want a funeral…”

“I...suppose I can understand that viewpoint. Do you want anything else done instead?”

He shook his head. "I'd say don't mourn, but I've been on the other side enough to know that'll never happen." He smiled weakly as he turned his head. "Try to celebrate my life instead of mourning my death?"

Selise forced a weak smile back, but her eyes held a different story, even if she didn't allow any tears to fall. "I will try, but you have to promise me something first."

“What's that?”

“Don't finish this alone. I know you might not feel comfortable here, but go to Splint, to another healer, to anyone. Please.”

“I...can only promise to try...I'm still a stubborn idiot after all.”

Selise shook her head. “I suppose that will have to do.”

Drahs pushed himself up with a grunt. He let out a few coughs. "Thanks for being here, Sel. I just wish I could've shown up in a more...dignified light. Never stop being kind, alright?"

Selise stood from her seat and picked the bottle up off the table. She moved around the chair to offer it out to him with a small smirk. "It is not the first time you've been dropped into my office..." She didn't want to complete the thought, but her mind did it for her anyway. "Two pills, every four hours. It's written on the bottle..." She just looked at him a moment, then moved to hug him. "Thank you for being my friend. I hope you finish what you want to."

Drahs took the bottle as she spoke. He chuckled as she made her commentary, but after the hug he finally broke fully. He squeezed her as tears rolled down his cheeks. "You as well Sel. Take care of yourself." It took more than he felt it should to finally release his grip and make his way out of the office.

Selise remained silent as her gaze drifted to the floor. She placed a hand on the back of the nearby chair to steady herself.

Written with @drahs Mentions @cherysaamberstill @laivindur

#How dare with the feels #Drahs

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miakalmen · 5 years

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Requested by @skinandsoulofglass

“I’d do anything to bring him/her back.”

The battle had settled. The Glaive was successful at pushing back the demons once more, but with each wave that followed the power outages their number grew thin. Civilians were pushed further back this time, some losing their lives as various demons picked them off.

Mia waited with the rest of the civilians in one of the small buildings in Lestallum. They could hear the sounds of crying, both children and adults. A mother gently rocked her baby, trying her best to hush the infant. Mia eyes, focused on the steal door that was the last barrier between them, and the darkness that threatened their lives.

It felt like hours as they waited, but hope and relief descended on them when the lights flickers slowly back on. Outside they could hear cheering. Victory! One more victory in the long cold night. Mia waited, along with the rest, for the all clear. For the moment each of them both feared and wanted. To run back to the arms of a loved one.

Cor opened the doors, and usher people back out and to their homes and loved ones. As Mia passed him, Cor reached out and grabbed their arm. Mia knew. Mia knew the moment their eyes met his.

“No!” Mia yanked their arm from Cor. Tears already forming in their eyes.

“Mia!” Cor yelled after them, but Mia was gone.

They ran as fast and as hard as the could. Their eyes frantically searching. Where was he? Where was he! The could hear Cor yelling for them, but they didn’t care. They had to find him.

And then. There he was. The strength drained from ever inch of their body as Mia collapsed next to him. Trembling hands pulled his head close and laid it to rest gently in their lap. Mia gently traced the scar across his head, before pushing back blood soaked hair so they could see his amber eyes.

They had never seen Gladio so still, or his eyes so void of life. This couldn’t be real. The darkness couldn’t take him. This was Gladiolus Amicitia, Shield to the King. Their Gladio! In Mia’s mind he had always been unstoppable.

Tears fell from their face onto Gladio’s washing away the blood and dirt.

“Please,” Mia whispered to any of the Gods that would hear them, “I’d do anything to bring him back. Please I beg you, any of you, don’t take him.”

#Gladiolus Amicitia #IM COMPROMISED #Final Fantasy xv #FFXV

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xadoheandterra · 5 years

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Series: The Burning of Solheim Title: The Path Untrodden Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII Characters: Prompto Argentum, Aranea Highwind, Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Cor Leonis, Gladiolus Amicitia Tags: 10 years older!Prompto, Prompto’s barcorde, Cor is the sane one, Noctis is a cat Summary: Solheim was the height of civilization long enough that their ruins were ruins over 2000 years ago, and still had the power to function in the time of the King of Light. They should’ve realized something was very wrong the minute Prompto remarked on the lights being on, and yet no one was home.

Prompto rolled onto his side and vomited.

Clinically the signs of a concussion were there; nausea, the blinding headache and distant ringing in his ears, and—oh, he couldn’t forget this one—disorientation. Prompto had no idea where he was except probably in Steyliff, and probably not anywhere near Ardyn. In fact, despite the haze of headache and deja-vu that niggled at the faint end of memory, Prompto could recall a time much like this before wherein he’d lost a tie to a Monarch and the faintest recollection that Ardyn—Ardyn would be dead in a scant few years. Prompto couldn’t really recall right now how he knew that.

Prompto breathed through his nose and shuffled away from the vomit. He tried to get to his feet, succeeded, but stumbled for a moment with his balance upended. He squinted—a light somewhere, bright and foreboding, lit up the chamber he found himself in. The Pilgrimage chamber, if he remembered right. The one under the waters of the Vesperpool that signified the path into the Beyond to ancient Solheim practices.

For a brief moment Prompto debated an elixir or potion—he kept a few in pockets on his person out of habit these days, from when he lacked the tie to the Lucis Caelum magic—but Prompto also remembered a fair few of Ardyn’s lectures on how not to treat certain injuries. Elixir’s and potions could cause more damage with a concussion, right?

“Better not risk it,” Prompto mumbled, and winced at the lights. Artificial, he noted faintly. When had he last seen artificial lights like this, so bright they drove the daemons away? He put that out of mind for the moment and glanced at the ground and—yes, the panel.

Prompto knelt and stared as best he could with vision that swam and attention that wanted to drift every which way, at the words on the panel. Perhaps he could figure out just where the blasted thing sent him—that was always an option, right? He didn’t have his notes, and something twisted in his gut at the memory that he stored them in the armiger for safe keeping, but Prompto also had an impeccable memory. He just—needed—to figure this out—

“Hey! Who the fuck are you?”

Prompto yelped and flailed forward at the sudden voice. He fought down the urge to vomit again as the nausea reared its ugly head even as he crashed on top of the panel and braced himself to be dragged away—except, not. He felt around it and frowned—the subtle hum to the thing was gone. Had it fully lost power? That should be fairly impossible right? Solheim was a fount of magical and technological innovations that lasted well beyond the civilizations fall. Feasibly it’d have to be thousands of years before the power source could fail to reach whole sections of tombs and temples and—

“I said who the fuck are you?!”

“Jeez, no need to yell,” Prompto groaned and rolled himself over. He squinted and tried to place the face—she wasn’t dressed in the typical armor and accoutrements Prompto had grown used to over ten years. Actually, what she wore felt vaguely familiar—like the shirt Prompto had on when he arrived in Steyliff all those years ago. Hadn’t there been a woman in the party then? What was her name? Prompto hissed between his teeth and curled forward and—yeah, no use stopping now.

Prompto threw up.

“Thanks,” Prompto croaked as Aranea handed him a cup of water and some saltines to chow down on. He’d vomited at least three more times after the first two, all of which happened as she dragged his dazed and concussed ass out of Steyliff and into the night sky.

The night sky looked weird to Prompto. There were less stars, more miasma in the dark then he found himself used to. Vesperpool with Ardyn had beauty at night, and while night was dangerous because of daemons there were ways to enjoy the dark without the risk. Here Aranea’s people had artificial lights so bright they hurt placed strategically around Steyliff and the Imperial dropship she rode in on.

How long had it been since he’d seen an Imperial dropship? Prompto blinked into his glass of water. He could remember traveling with Noct and Gladio and Ignis through the wilds of Leide and Cleigne. They took on hunts for the people for protection—monsters and daemons alike—and on occasion an Imperial dropship would come hurtling through and dump a series of MT’s and Prompto would scream—

Imperial’s above us!

—but he’d grown used to travel by just chocobo and no car. He’d grown used to not having to fear enemies from above, but rather those that snuck within the foliage. He’d grown used to fighting men and not soulless automata. Prompto wondered what this made him now; he had blood on his hands from protecting Ardyn and that—would the others like that? How long had he been gone?

Aranea huffed from where she leaned against the dropship wall while she watched Prompto fall into contemplation and sip at the water and nibble at the saltines. She let him have his peace if only because the concussion really fucked him over and she knew how concussions went. When it seemed more like Prompto was himself she sighed loudly to catch his attention.

“You mind telling me what you were doing in there?” Aranea demanded.

Prompto pursed his lips. “I…” he fumbled for his words and looked down at his hands. Then he mumbled, “Aranea,” like an epiphany hit him and Aranea blinked. She hadn’t given her name. “Aranea! Oh, that’s right.”

“Okay,” Aranea drawled, but Prompto barreled on.

“You were with us when we went searching for Mythril,” Prompto said, and his voice got this tone of wistful enthusiasm. “Called us out on our ‘shitty disguises’ and all! Fuck I can’t believe how long its been!” Prompto laughed lightly, then frowned. “Wait—how long has it been?”

Aranea frowned. “Blondie?” she questioned, and when she gained a nod that quickly turned a face green enough that Prompto stopped, Aranea sighed explosively. “Well, shit.”

“Sums it up quite nice,” Prompto muttered. “Solheim shit is fucking weird.” Prompto scrubbed at his goatee. “That fucking panel dumps you into a different time, and it’d have to be a different space too with the planet rotation to take into effect. Plus the differences in ages and then you also have to account for the language barrier that might arise—maybe that’s what the language script meant?” For a moment Prompto devolved into quiet muttering to himself before Aranea cleared her throat and he glanced back up at her sheepishly.

“I have no idea what you just said,” Aranea told him bluntly.

“Sorry.”

Aranea waved him off and slumped down with a sigh. “You’ve been missing for a week, blondie.” She watched the way he blinked, and then tilted his head in a confused sort of way that left her chuckling because yeah, this was definitely the blondie she’d met with the Prince and his entourage.

“A week? But that—perhaps the temporal displacement is not entirely accurate?” Prompto mumbled. “What could interfere with that mechanic of the system though? Or perhaps it’s the rotation—needs to be in the right rotation to drop you off at the right space?” Aranea cleared her throat again and Prompto flushed pink.

“Your boys are going to be pickled pink to know you’re not dead,” Aranea told him, then paused. “I’d tell ‘em, but I lack their numbers.”

Prompto sighed. “No trouble. They’re probably already in Altissia.”

Aranea scoffed. “Last I heard they were still in Lestallum, and that was a day ago. Stopped looking for Mythril after you up and vanished.”

That surprised Prompto, he fiddled with the cup in his hands and his head down. He’d spent time getting over his insecurities with Gil and Ardyn, but the thought of Noct and the others—they were his best friends—upset that he vanished? Upset enough that they put their plans on hold? Prompto couldn’t fathom it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to the city proper so you can search them out,” Aranea said. “I’ve been scouring this place for Mythril as an apology.”

Prompto scrubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t bother. I’ve got plenty.” Without thought he dipped his mental fingers into the armiger and tugged out three glittering pieces of mythril to show off. He banished them back into the familiar cold blue of Noct’s magic, and then froze stiff a second later. He could feel Noct’s magic. He could feel Noct. He could access Noct’s armiger! Ten years and Prompto missed the cold warmth of Noctis, the way it suffused through him and nestled near his heart. He found some solace with Ardyn, but the feel of them were like night and day. Noctis burned cold, but bright, like a nice breeze in the summer time that came off a fishing dock. Ardyn burned hot, like the comfort of the sun on a lounge chair and the heat of the desert but in the way that wasn’t stifling.

A second later Prompto realized he could still feel Ardyn’s magic nestled next to Noct’s and that—that left him breathless. Ardyn should be dead two-thousand years over and the magic gone, but it rested there like a fresh bond; Noct’s too felt new and fresh and whole. It felt like the Oaths he’d taken had dropped into the void, and then slammed back home where they belong the minute he paid attention to it. Prompto breathed in heavily and forced the panic away, well aware of Aranea’s attention on him.

“I’ll pay you in Mythril if you take me to Lestallum,” Prompto said as he pushed aside thoughts of Ardyn and why, and instead reached mental fingers into Noct’s side of the magic and tugged out his phone. “And don’t’ worry about telling the guys; I’ve got Iggy’s number.”

They agreed to meet at a neutral location on Ignis’ demand, and Prompto couldn’t blame them. He could remember how paranoid the Nifs made them; how hunted Noctis and them were for the mere fact that they survived the destruction of Insomnia. Prompto could remember it more like a dream, something that happened for a few short months ten years ago. Prompto’s weariness and paranoia stemmed from more immediate threats that he discovered in the past. Bandits on the road were always a concern, and daemons at night—and then there were the Scourge infected, half-turned or ill and the dangers they represented themselves.

Neutral ground really was best for the first meeting since the mess in Steyliff.

Prompto hopped off the bird he’d rented from where Aranea dropped him off and scratched just under her beak. He murmured a soft goodbye for the time being and turned around to look at Old Lestallum and sigh. They said the Crows Nest for a start, and honestly Prompto could do with a bite of food anyway so he turned toward the restaurant and jogged across the street.

The dinner didn’t have a lot of patrons today, probably due to the grey clouds hanging overhead, which suited Prompto just fine. He headed up to the counter and softly ordered some ‘Kenny’s Fries’, reached into Noct’s armiger, and tugged out the required gil from underneath the counter.

“Thanks!” Prompto cheered, turned around, and plopped himself down into one of the booths furthest away from the tipster to wait. With happy aplomb Prompto dumbed the fries into a mixture of ranch and ketchup and began to chow down with a closed eye groan of happiness. He missed fries. He missed Iggy’s cooking too.

Gods above Prompto missed a lot of things that he carefully stuffed away in the back of his mind these past ten years and—he struggled to stop himself from crying. Outside he could hear the Regalia purr into the parking space and the doors open. One of them slammed, and he could hear faint voices—someone yelling, Prompto thought, as he set his fries down and looked up.

For half-a-second Prompto saw a head of dark hair that he never thought he’d see again. It was messier than he was used to, and the slate blue eyes were brighter than he remembered, but time and distance often warped memory. Slowly Prompto slid out of the booth and stood to his feet, where Noctis turned and stared at him with wide eyes—and the next thing Prompto knew he felt the familiar cold-warmth of Noct’s light burst in his chest. Noctis wrapped arms around Prompto and hugged him close and—yeah, Prompto could feel the tears.

“H-Hey, buddy,” Prompto said, and his own voice trembled just a bit. “Miss me?”

Cor stared, and he couldn’t exactly help it because here was the one-year-old brat he’d dragged back to Insomnia some nineteen years previously, and fuck the kid wasn’t twenty anymore. The little blond monkey had new scars that Cor knew he hadn’t seen the last time he was with these boys, back at Keycatrich, and a goatee that took work beyond a few scant months. Cor knew full well that the boy didn’t even have the beginnings of facial hair yet so the goatee shouldn’t be a thing and fuck, of course Noctis and his retinue would get up to more insane bullshit than Regis ever tried.

He’d seen a lot, being part of Mors guard, and then shuffled off to Regis when Mors died. Cor saw too much sometimes; things that involved dead ghosts with honor-bound oaths that still roam the earth. The Blademaster had to be one of the most terrifying discovers of his life even if he blundered it under bravado, spite, fury, and a recklessness that really should’ve killed him long ago. To see Prompto now, to see the age worn on him, it felt like he’d stepped into one of Clarus’ fictional novels the bastard loved so much.

Cor hated to think it, but it also hurt how Ingis and Gladiolus worked to keep Noctis as far away from Prompto as possible. He wondered if he could see the blatant hurt that crossed the blonds face, the way his brows tilted down and his eyes grew a bit glassy. All this arguing and posturing started to get on his nerves, too. He wanted to punch something, or kill something—maybe take another stab at that bastard Blademaster—and those were dangerous thoughts in times like these so Cor breathed in deep, then breathed out, and stepped between the two groups before this argument got out of hand.

Instantly Ignis quieted and Prompto glanced to Cor. Cor eyed the way the boy straightened up and stood tall, and then looked over to Ignis and Gladiolus who were trying to keep Noctis from even so much as looking at the ‘stranger’ in their midst.

“Let me get a few things straight,” Cor said, and they kept attention raptly on him. “You claim that ten years have passed,” he looked to Prompto who nodded sharply. “We,” he looked to Ignis and Noctis and Gladiolus, “know that Prompto disappeared in the middle of Solheim ruins roughly one week ago.”

“One week, seven hours, fifteen minutes,” Ignis rattled off, and then flushed pink at the way Prompto gaped at him. “I was…” Ignis pursed his lips and looked away.

“Right,” Cor continued as if Ignis hadn’t displayed all of the weird shit that came with being the Hand of the King. Wesk used to do the same weirdness, once upon a time. If Cor hadn’t known Wesk to not have any kids, or interest in kids, or interest in women, or even a family then Cor might’ve questioned Ignis being a Scientia in the first place. Still he pressed on and glanced between the two.

“When Prompto disappeared your Majesty you said it felt like the bond broke?” Cor asked, and he saw the way Prompto went pale in understanding.

“Yeah,” Noctis said from behind Gladiolus, then grunted when Gladiolus pushed him back. “Except also not? It was weird, Cor, okay? Like something just…took it—but it’s back now! It’s back, and I can feel—it’s back….” Noctis’ voice broke faintly and Prompto grit his teeth and looked away.

“Noct…” Ignis muttered, but he didn’t turn around to comfort, and normally Cor would applaud the caution but now it felt just—stupid.

Cor sighed. “Right. Prompto?”

Prompto perked up. “Yes?”

“Show me your wrist.”

The room went deadly silent. Ignis glanced to Gladiolus, who shrugged and shook his head in confusion. Cor spared them only the briefest of glances before he returned his gaze solely to Prompto who froze, eyes wide. After a second one hand hesitantly went and grasped at Prompto’s right wrist, where the glove went up to cover half way onto the forearm. Prompto eyed Cor warily, lips pressed together as he breathed in slowly.

“Y-You know about that?” Prompto asked, voice soft and more timid than he’d heard out of the other man all day. Cor massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, I know,” Cor said, then glanced at the group, then back to Prompto. Fuck it—at this rate keeping the whole mess a secret was worthless. Regis wasn’t King anymore, that fell to Noctis’ shoulders now, and secrets were messy and frustrating anyway. “I’m the one who brought you into Insomnia, Prompto.”

From the royal trio there was a stiffened spine and a hissed what and Prompto seemed to swallow heavily on his side. Cor could hear Noctis fighting with Gladiolus to get around and demand answers, but Ignis helped to contain the young King which was fine for now. Cor stepped up to Prompto.

“You know what it is?” Prompto asked.

“I do,” Cor said softly. “I can tell you more, but right now I need to see it.” Prompto chewed on his lip, then nodded, and carefully began to pull off his glove. Cor breathed a sigh of relief and snatched the wrist before Prompto could cover it with his other hand and began to study the barcode intensely.

N-iP01357 – 05953234

Cor breathed out heavily and let the wrist drop. “Alright.” He looked to Prompto and said, softly, “Thank you.” Prompto nodded slowly once and carefully tugged his glove back on to cover the mark. He refused to look at Cor which—okay, fine, Cor could deal with that. It wasn’t like Prompto was his brat, even if he’d snuck a check up on him frequently over the years after the kid got adopted into the Argentum household.

Cor turned and faced the three blockheads who finally stopped fighting with one another and stared, waiting, for Cor to say something or anything. Noctis had finally wormed his way to the front and had a bright scowl on his face, Ignis sported a bruise on his cheek, and it looked like Gladio got nicked by a blade of some sort. Cor wanted to mutter kids under his breath and wondered if this was how Regis felt all those years ago when fifteen year old Cor got pulled into being part of Mors’ guard.

Instead Cor uttered, “It’s him,” to the boys and watched how Ignis went slack and Gladiolus looked ready to protest, but both didn’t stop Noctis from the jump forward to wrap Prompto back into a hug. Cor sighed as Ignis stepped close to him, eyes wide with barely repressed hope.

“A-Are you sure, Marshal?” Ignis asked and Cor glanced to where Prompto laughed and Noctis had basically squirrelled the thirty year old man onto one of the beds, commandeered him as a pillow, and began to play Kings Knight on his phone with Prompto.

“A hundred percent,” Cor said eventually and Ignis looked ready to question that further until Gladiolus slapped the man on the shoulder and smiled tiredly.

“Go cuddle with the kids, Iggy,” Gladiolus said, graced the hard stare of Ignis with aplomb, and then watched how Ignis carefully approached the duo on the bed before Noctis dragged him down and they became a trio.

Cor glanced to Gladiolus who settled down into one of the chairs on the caravan and pulled out two bottles of booze from the armiger. Cor frowned, accepted one, and dropped into the other chair even as he said, “You know that is for storing weaponry and curatives, not alcoholic beverages.”

“Pff, like you guys didn’t do the same,” Gladiolus rumbled and Cor snorted. They both watched the three with equal parts fondness and Gladiolus with more regret than the man should have, but then Cor received the dressing down from Ignis just the same and that—that kind of stung.

Perhaps, Cor realized with a bitter thought, he hadn’t gotten over his impulsiveness as much as he’d like now in his forties. Not if he happily brought Gladiolus to the point of potential death and—yeah, he deserved the dressing down even if it came from a kid half his age. Cor sighed and sipped at the beer for a moment, felt himself relax into the sound of laughter and Ignis’ soft scolding or questions about why are your clothes in such terrible states of disarray, Prompto?

Eventually Gladiolus brought up what was on his mind. “The barcode?” he said, and kept his voice pitched low so that the squealing Prompto couldn’t hear him, nor Noctis over the sounds of sudden tickling and protests as Ignis demanded all of Prompto’s clothes so that he could repair them appropriately.

Cor glanced to Gladiolus. “You know about that?”

“Saw it once or twice.”

Cor nodded, and said, “Yeah. The barcode.”

#fanfiction #final fantasy xv #ffxv #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #cor leonis #gladiolus amicitia #aranea highwind #fic: the path untrodden #fic: the burning of solheim

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sonsoflucis · 6 years

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in the wee hours of morning.

[AO3] [KO-FI]

[FIRST CHAPTER]

warnings: mild illness, upset child, mild anger

a sequel to “i’ll keep you safe.” after rescuing prompto as an infant from niflheim, cor now takes on the long, arduous journey of parenthood.

Cor drags his hands down his face, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes as he rests his elbows on his knees. This is the position of a defeated man, slouched over on the edge of an unkempt bed while a baby wails in the other room. Sleep-heavy eyes stare blankly at the wall, his pulse throbbing in his head as the cries grow louder, more desperate and shrill. Running his fingers through his hair, he chastises himself for letting it grow out so much, how lax he has become with his daily routine. Each time the clock ticks, his jaw clenches tighter, the baby shrieking for him in the other room.

He glances over at the bottle of antibiotics he has only managed to make him take once in the week he is supposed to have been on them, the cap sticky with remnants of medicine he refused, spilled all over Cor's uniform. He notices the stack of bills from the doctor, strewn haphazardly across the dresser, the myriad of pacifiers and teething rings left like trash after the baby's marvelous scrutiny. And lastly, his eyes fall upon the bright neon red of his clock, an unforgiving glow reminding him of the days of sleep he has missed, the countless workplace tardies and unmanageable deadlines while he cared for a sickly youth with an enormous chip on his shoulder.

Cor unties and reties the strings on his pajama bottoms, his phone alarm vibrating on the hard surface of the nightstand. "Shut up," he growls softly, shoving it under his pillow. The baby calls out for him, standing in his crib as he tries to catch his breath between sobs. Weeks of this. Of calm days that lead to troubled nights, to tossing and turning and bottles heating in a pot and the same bottle being thrown onto the floor with a whine.

"Just be quiet," he groans in frustration, clapping his hands over his ears. "Please, god, just shut up, Prompto."

But the child persists, his little cheeks tearstained as he chokes out another cry. Finally, Cor lurches towards the little boy's bedroom or, rather, the living room he has deemed a makeshift bedroom. Stepping over toys and clothes, over books and old takeout containers, he grabs the side of the crib firmly.

"Just be quiet!" he yells back at Prompto, his tired eyes angry and redrimmed. "Please! Let me sleep!"

Prompto's bottom lip trembles as he begins crying once more, this time out of fear, out of misunderstanding. His onesie has fallen off his shoulder, the buttons around his legs unsnapped. Numerous brightly colored blankets tossed onto the floor, his favorite catoblepas plush clutched in his tiny fist, he reaches for Cor, toddling over with a whimper. Reaching for him, he sobs, chest heaving as he tries to communicate his feelings, but only manages to upset Cor even more.

"No! Sleep! You need to sleep in your own bed. I can't do this... I can't do this! I can't!" Cor backs away, shaking his head, fisting the hem of his shirt as he twists it around his fingers. "Why can't you just sleep!? Why won't you let me sleep!? Huh!? I should never have done this. They were right. What do I know about kids? Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing-"

The baby's frantic cries interrupt his tangent, setting off a spark of unintended, sleep deprived rage. He whips around, storming back to the side of the crib. "Lay down! Just lay down, Prompto!" he bellows. "Go to bed."

Prompto sniffles, plopping down onto his chubby legs, his toy safeguarded in his arms. With wide, violet-hued eyes, he stares up at Cor in all his built up irritability with the trials and tribulations of a fatherhood he never expected. And he drops his stuffed animal, reaching up with both small hands.

"Daddy, peez," he whimpers, opening and closing his fists as tears run down his cheeks. "Up, daddy..."

Cor stops, his hard gaze falling on the child. Guilt and regret wash over him in a cold, stomach-twisting wave as he scoops Prompto up, tucking his head under his chin. "Fuck, I'm sorry," he croons, kissing his temple, rocking him in his arms stiffly. "I'm sorry. I'm here. Daddy's here."

Grabbing the catoblepas, he carefully tiptoes back to his bedroom, Prompto clinging to his shirt, his little body trembling with too many feelings as he relaxes in Cor's arms. Curling up with him on the bed, he smoothes Prompto's light blond locks between his fingers, tucking them behind his ear as the baby snuggles into the curve of his body under the thick quilt.

"Daddy's so sorry, Prom," he breathes, wiping his face on his arm.

Prompto suckles on Cor's finger as he drifts off, exhausted by his frantic desperation, his toy forgotten the moment he was able to be close to Cor. The man watches the streetlights of Insomnia begin to shut off, the faint murkiness of the sky heralding an approaching sun. But none of it matters. Not the lack of sleep, the pediatrician bills, the long fights to get him into clean clothes, the broken glassware and torn up books. None of it holds a candle to the soft sounds of Prompto sleeping soundly in a bed Cor has given up fighting ownership over. None of it matters as long as this immaculate, amazing child is here, breathing quietly in his arms.

"I just feel so alone sometimes," he whispers. "But it isn't your fault. None of this is."

He kisses his forehead gently, brushing a drying tear off his flushed cheek. "Daddy won't let anything ever hurt you, Prom. Not even me," he murmurs, his own eyelids weighed down by the need for sleep. The sun rises, a golden thickness blanketing them as they snooze the day away, Cor's alarm left to vibrate uselessly under the pillow, both soldier and child comforted by the warm, still presence of the other. And as terrible as the circumstances of his birth were, Prompto filled a void in Cor Leonis he never realized was there. A hollowness dissipating into a flood of white light with every single laugh to bubble out of his throat. And for all the ways Cor rescued Prompto, this child of radiating light manages to save him in return, ground him, provide at least one person in this big, scary world who he can come home to. Who needs him.

May the gods show mercy to the fool who comes between Cor and his son.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #cor leonis #prompto argentum #baby!prompto #papa!cor #cor #prompto #tw: upset child #tw: mild illness #sfw #ffxv au #mine #my writing #final fantasy xv fic #final fantasy 15 #ff15 #single dad

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mihcor · 10 months

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hsr 1.5 spoilers | discussion about the trailblazer

seeing the trailblazer get possessed is insane and awesome and i love it so much. especially since we play AS the trailblazer and we get to experience the horror of being unable to control your own body.

i kind of wish mhy would go harder with it though. like. fully commit to the bit. make it horrifying. the trailblazer, as much as we are playing through them, are their own character, and i want to feel that more than i do right now. commit to the bit, mhy!! the best stories are the ones where you commit!!!!!

it's horrifying enough that they have a living bomb inside of them that they don't understand, or control. it's terrifying to know other people know your fate and are controlling you as a puppet on a string. it's horrifying to know that every decision you make is influenced from a past you no longer remember, that you were shaped for this purpose - to carry the hopes of the universe on your back. you belong to elio and you were shaped by kafka and are you really your own person?

but at the same time the trailblazer is starting from scratch and they are becoming their own person with a distinct personality and friendships.

but i headcanon hard that my trailblazer suffers doubts, asking if they are really "themself" and how would they be able to tell, similar to how dan heng has been asking himself and others if he is a seperate person to dan feng. no memories but you are still dancing to another's tune. will you ever be free?

i hope the trailblazer can one day be free. i went on a tangent and lost my original point lmao

#hsr #hsr 1.5 #trailblazer #hsr caelus #hsr stelle #cor yells at the void

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albedosoyna · 7 years

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FFXV Favourites Meme

instructions: (Take from @lhugbereth)

To celebrate a year of FFXV and the end of the first year of updates, let’s spread the FFXV love! I haven’t seen a tag meme like this for FFXV yet, so I decided to make one. If you see this and want to, copy/paste this list and share what your favorite things about FFXV are.

Favorite Chocobro: It started off at Noctis but switched to Ignis. I love, love, love that spiky haired man.

Favorite Guest Party Member (including Ravus and Libertus from DLC): Areana. The girl is the girl with the most.

Favorite Minor Character(s): I am in love with Iris. The girl is so sassy and powerful. I am a fan of the Amicitia’s

Favorite Villain: KENNY CROW... just kidding. It totally is Dratos. Such a long burn to get his revenge. It must have been burning inside of him for so so long. And to take care of the prince would have killed him a little on the inside every day.

Favorite Kingsglaive Character: Regis. Poor king Regis and how he is so tired and how he wants to save everyone but can only protect his son, his sons friends and thankfully, Luna (for a short while anyway) in the end.

Favorite Astral/Divine Being: Leviathan. She does not go out without a fight and despite being an ultimate diva, has to make sure that the king is worth her time.

Favorite Character Overall: IGNIS.The man is everything. He is perfect, snarky and so loyal.

Favorite Weapon: I love magic. I love freezing, and blowing everything up. I’m weird that way.

Favorite Location:Vesperpool. Um... it kinds of reminds me of where I grew up.

Favorite Quest/Questline/Hunt: ... The weapons hunt and dealing with the snarky Cid who kept yelling at Noct not to slouch and grunt when he had nothing else to say.

Favorite Boss: Deadeye! Behemoth’s for the win.

Favorite Monster/Monster Family/etc: Adorable and deadly. Cactuars. Because cactuars. Also, the Malboros. Stinking balls of goo with teeth.

Favorite Song: Stand by me. I love it.

Favorite Boss Theme: ... Um... Not sure.

Favorite Non-Episode DLC/Update/Event: The Assassin Creed because all the boys were in it.

Favorite Episode DLC: Ignis. New glasses, new ending, new life!

Other Favorites of Note: The game is beautiful, the guys are beautiful. I want to see more Cor, Iris and Araena in the game but fanfiction fills that void for now.

I still have to get all the trophies for the DLC’s because I suck, but I will get them all...

I wish the glasses could be worn in the regular game from Ignis’ DLC. I mean, come on, Square.

#ffxv #soy does meme #do it if you want to

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zacklover24 · 7 years

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CrossRoads Chapter IV

Tagging: @femmescientia, @itshaejinju, @themissimmortal, @blindbae, @stunninglyignis, @mini-moogle-queen, @eternallydaydreaming2015, @neko-otaku13, @sweetchocobae, @rubyphilomela, @wolfissac, @daemonchocobo, @lady-asuka,

Prompto was freaking out, no that wasn’t the right word. He was panicking. He hadn’t been able to get a hold of Angel. And with the fall of the Crown city he really needed to make sure she was okay. Hell, there father was okay, those he did call Noct, telling them to go to Hammerhead. Why he didn’t call Prompto was beyond him, but it matters not. Prompto was sitting in the back of the car fidgeting with his phone. Noct was riding shotgun so Ignis could keep an eye on him.

“It will be okay.” Gladio tells him placing a hand on his shoulder, it went without being said that he was worried for Iris.

“But what if she’s dead?” Prompto asks him, sending yet another text to his sister.

“Do feel as those your being haunted?” Noctis asks voice void of any emotions. He was taking the death of the king hard.

“No.” Prompto whispers.

“Then she is not dead.” Noct did make a good point, Prompto let out a tired sigh and settled against the shield.

“Here we are.” Ignis softly says as they pulled into Hammer, the weather had steadily gotten worst. The rain which had started as drizzle was all but coming down in drones. Cid was waiting for them to tell them that Cor came and went and was waiting for them at Keycatrich.

“At least dad’s all right.” Prompto mutters sticking close to Gladio and Noct.

“All we have to do now is go and meet him at the hunter camp.” Gladio mutters says puling the blonde close to his side as they walked back to the car.

“LAVENDER NO!” Cindy yells chasing after puppy, said puppy had what looked like to be a stick in its mouth. The puppy ran up to Ignis and let out a happy bark dropping the stick.

“Howdy again.” Cindy greets picking up the puppy who was starting to nip at Ignis heels.

“Cute.” Noctis comments petting the puppy on the head who started to nip at the prince fingers.

“Thanks, she quite the handful. Angel said you boys would be by.” Each of them stared at Cindy, who took a step back. “You fellas okay?”

“You saw Angel? When?” Prompto asks feeling very nervous.

“Some time last night, can’t say the exact time. What I do know is that a pair of kids with her. Iris and Talcott, I think their names were.” Gladio felt a weight being lifted from his shoulder, Iris was okay and she was with Angel.

“Where are they now?” Ignis asks Cindy.

“They left for Lestallum.” She explains before she snapped her fingers and placed lavender in Prompto hands, “Your sister knew you boys would here today don’t know how she knew. Anyway, she wanted me to give you boys this little lady.”

“You can not be serious?” Gladio asks watching the puppy wiggle in the blonde arms.

“I can and I am, take good care her, and she will take good care of you.” Cindy orders leaving the four well now five with the puppy. Ignis let out an annoyed sigh and headed for the car, thank you Angel. At least they knew she was safe.

“To meet Cor?” Noctis asks sliding into the passenger seat, as Prompto and Gladio went to the back seat. The puppy settling down between them.

“To Keycatrich.” Ignis says starting to leave hammerhead.

“Then to Lestallum.” That was the plan for now. None of them knew what Cor had planned for them.

*********************************************************************************************

Meanwhile in Lestallum Angel, had woken up to find Iris using her as a pillow and to find her phone charged and twenty texts from Prompto, ten texts from Prompto, ten from Ignis, five from Cor, and at least ten from the local hunters and so many missed calls. With a groan Angel sat up and made sure Iris was hugging a stuffed moogle, and got ready for the day. She dressed in a light blue tank top, a pair of tan cargo shorts, and a pair of tan wedge sandals and her sunglasses. The sun was stronger here then the Crown City.

She bid Jared and Talcott a good morning and left to look for a good drawing spot. She found one at the overlook. Right as she got her sketch pad out her phone started to ring. Angel let out a snort once she read the name and number

“Good morning dad.” Angel greets in a deadpan voice, still mad at him.

“About time Angel.”

“I’m sorry dad but my phone died last night, it was charging.” She growls with an eye roll.

“Angel.”

“Sorry dad, I’m fine. We made it to Lestallum.” She tells him, “Have you heard from Prom yet?”

“No, you?”

“I got so many texts from him I don’t even know where to start to be honest with you.” There was a pause on Cor end of the phone, and Angel could make out people talking. “Dad are you at the hunter’s camp in Keycatrich by any chance?” Angel could all but see Cor raise an eyebrow at her question. Well there went that secret.

“How?”

“The background noises. Please tell me you’re not.” Angel was hopping to the six, he wasn’t going to send Noctis on the worst treasure hunt in all of Eos.

“I am, Noctis is old enough and with the death of the king and the fall of the crown city and the crystal gone. We’re going to need every advantage we can get.” She couldn’t believe Cor was doing this.

“Dad, this has to be the worst treasure hunt in all of Eos, what happens if Noct is killed? Or your son is killed?”

“You’re going to be there to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“How do you know I’ll help them.” She asks him.

“I know you. Keep your brother safe, and stay safe till they arrive in Lestallum.”

“I will dad and you do the same, your pretty high on the empire hit list.” Cor started to laugh.

“You don’t need to worry about me sweetheart.” As he hung up.

“If I don’t then who will?” She asks putting her phone away. She flipped open her sketch pad to find a few drawings. One was of the bow of the clever, the sword of the wanderer, the shield of justice and few other random royal arms. She hopped they had it in them to do this.

End of line

#FFXV #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv fan fic #FFXV Crossroads #FFXV fan fic #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum #cor leonis

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everi-moved · 7 years

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Hey! This is my second Lucidia OC, Coriander! Yea, I enlarged the eye patch. It’s not as big as her face. XD Here’s her info (DISCLAIMER: Coriander is not part of the canon storyline. She is just a character I made. I have no part in the making of Lucidia or it’s characters whatsoever): Basic:

Name(s): Coriander, Aeris (Former name),

Universe: Lucidia

Gender: Female

Nicknames: Cori, Cor, Anderson, Corianderson

Rank: Unknown

Species: Skeleton

Title: Guardian

Pupil Type: Oval

Theme Song: Shelter by Jenny (Cover)

Fighting Theme: Unknown

Powers: Healing and force fields

Appearance:

Coriander has visible eye socket with a green oval pupil. She has an eyepatch she wears over her left eye. Her eyepatch has a white X over where her eye would be. She wears a skin tight, black, longsleeved tunic that reaches her thighs. She wears a pair of dark grey tights as well as black knee high converses she refers to as “Conboots”. Her cloak is slightly lighter than her tights, and seems to be a bit ragged. Her scythe has one blade on both the bottom and top, each blade facing a different direction. It is silver with green or yellow highlights on it, depending on the side. Her eye is known to glow when she is extremely angry.

Personality:

Coriander is very soft spoken when you first meet her. She is easily intimidated by those stronger than her, especially if they are in the higher ranks. She will interact with very high ranking reapers, such as Sage and Salt, but will be very cautious and will run away at the slightest notion of annoyance, frustration, or anger. As she gets closer to people, she relaxes a great deal, even rough housing at times. She dislikes being touched for too long, but will tolerate if someone needs it. The longest she prefers to be touched is 10 seconds for hugs, hand holding, or any other type of affection, and will allow touching for about a minute if it is not affection, but will not tolerate any touching around her eyes. She cares about nearly everyone she meets, and this causes her to be unable to turn away when they are sad or need help. Despite being easily scared, if someone needs to be protected, no matter who they are, she will protect them. This makes it hard for her to do her job if the person dies a violent death, such as torture or murder. She also loves the night, and will sometimes stay up just to look at the moon and stars. Coriander can become extremely serious if need be. Her shy and timid disposition hides a courage that only comes out when she is protecting someone, as well as an anger that takes a lot to bring out. When she is angry she may yell, growl, as well as other aggressive acts. Her eye will also glow slightly. When she is extremely angry, she will suddenly calm down and have a cold, hard look about her. A look void of any emotion at all, except for hate. When she is this angry, it is best to leave her alone until she is ready to talk to you, which may be never, since she can hold a grudge for a surprising amount of time.

Trivia:

Coriander once attempted to learn how to play the guitar, but ended up stopping due to “lack of interest”. But she can play a few chords and shows interest when someone plays a guitar. Coriander enjoys reading fantasy books. Coriander died in 2005 and died at age 25. She thinks it’s cute when Salt smiles. She thinks Pepper is just cute in general. She likes to stay up late and look at the moon and stars.She likes games such as Harvest Moon and Animal Crossing. She sees them as a break from any kind of violence.

Lucidia is made by @loverofpiggies

#lucidia #my ocs #coriander #reaper oc #lucidia oc #my art

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shianhygge-imagines · 8 years

Text

Middlemarch: The Case of the Brotherhood [Chocobros/Reader]

In which Prompt, Ignis, Gladio, and Noctis learn of Reader’s death in Insomnia. Angst.

|Masterlist Link|

“In another life, I hope that things can be different.”

~~~~~~~~~

They had all been resigned for the worst when they heard of the destruction wrought upon Insomnia. They had felt the despair and horror as they viewed the burning city from the clifftop afar. Each of them felt the terror that those within the city felt. The boys… no… they were men… the men had left their families behind only a few days prior. And now, the idea that they would see their families again was bleak and unlikely.

While Prompto and Ignis were worried about their parents, they had very little to fear because only they were involved with the Crown. Gladiolus and Noctis, however, had much more to fear. For Noctis, he was primarily worried about his father, King Regis, the main target for Niflheim’s invasion. His father had seen him, seen them all off with a smile, and now, there was the possibility that he could be dead. But as much agony as the thought was, it was nothing compared to what Gladiolus felt. The twenty two year old man was nearly crippled with worry, not only for his youngest sibling, Iris, but for his father and Y/N, the two individuals that were at the forefront of the Niflheim’s assault.

And then, the men were tasked to meet up with Cor Leonis, who had managed to escape the fallen city. Despite the fact it shouldn’t have, the meeting with Cor gave Gladiolus a great hope. As he was Y/N’s partner in the Crownsguard, Gladiolus reasoned that if Cor managed to escape Insomnia, then Y/N would have as well.

But it had been an emotional meeting. The most important task at hand was to ensure that Noctis inherited his title and crown, and was aware of his duty. Only a few days ago, everything had been so light hearted and happy, and suddenly the weight of the throne sat on the young Prince’s shoulders, and the heavy burden to support him fell on his friends. But once the King to be had accepted his role and the power that it came with, they all had to know.

“Marshal, did Y/N happen to make it out of the city?” it had been Prompto to ask the question. The men had all expected for their friend to be waiting within the Royal Tomb with Cor, and yet, when they entered the stone chamber, they were only greeted with one. Ignis and Gladiolus already had come to their own conclusions, but they needed to be sure. Though they were simply reluctant to hear of Y/N’s fate.

The Immortal Shogun cast his stormy grey eyes to the floor, something he rarely ever did. The older warrior remained silent, his lack of response being the only answer the men needed. “I’m sorry.”

“No…” Gladiolus moaned, distraught, falling to his knees as his fears were confirmed. His precious younger sibling… “Y/N…” a sob escaped the muscular man’s throat, choked and mournful. In his mind, he thought back to when he had left them in front of the Citadel, their smile as they promised to see him again. If he had known that that would be the last time he ever saw them… he didn’t know what he would have done.

Beside Gladio, Ignis lowered his gaze, silently mourning the death of a long-time and dear friend. The logical part of him reasoned that it was to be expected, being the personal guard of a king, but Y/N had been younger than him, had been a ball of support, understanding, and happiness. To have them ripped away from the living in such a violent way, no matter how honorable, it was a great loss to everyone who knew them. And although the tactician had expected this outcome, he slowly removed his glasses to shed a few tears.

“W-wha?” Prompto seemed absolutely shocked, he had very little to worry about prior to this revelation, but it suddenly felt like he’d been dropped head first into cold waters. “S-so they’re….?” the gunman swallowed audibly, his bottom lips trembling and eyes burning as he leaned against the walls of the Royal Tomb, legs unable to hold him up. Y/N and Prompto were like siblings, a great support for the only child of the Argentum family. The blonde’s tears ran down his face silently for a few moments before his boyish features scrunched up and an inconsolable sob escaped, loud enough to echo through the room. “Y/N…”

It took Noctis the longest to process Y/N’s death. Only moments prior, he’d been sobbing over the burden his father left him, and the loss of his only parent left. And now, to realize that he’d lost the person that was by his side since childhood. That he’d lost the person who had known him the most… it was almost incomprehensible. And while trying to hold back the burning in his eyes, the King to be asked with a crack in his voice, “How?”

Cor seemed to stand straighter, still sad from Y/N’s death, but looked proud. “I was not there to witness it, but I can speak with the utmost confidence that Y/N Amicitia died performing their duty to the best of their ability. The defense of the late King Regis in the face of General Glauca. They… Y/N died honorably, Your Majesty.”

“What’s the point of honor if they were going to die!” Noctis exclaimed, not really looking for a response from any of his companions. “Y/N was always so stubborn. Did they not realize that they were going to die fighting against Glauca?” The King to be’s face scrunched and a sob escaped, “Y/N promised.” Y/N’s smiling face flashed within the Prince’s mind, “You promised to stand by my side in Altissia, Y/N.”

Cor had done his mourning while holding Y/N’s dying body, but in the face of Y/N’s mourning friends, a deep shame overcame him. If only I had gotten to the King and Y/N faster.

Noctis continued to sob, feeling like his heart had been torn, an inescapable guilt falling around him. If only I had insisted that they come with us. If only I hadn’t yelled at Y/N all those months ago. If only…

The Prince could only sob, a rage and despair filling his body. Nobody could comfort him. Nobody would ever be able to comfort him. Because nobody could fill in the void that you left by his side; in his heart.

I kept going on and on about Luna whenever I was with you, selfishly, because I thought that you were always going to be in my life. And if I had been more understanding… more accepting… you’d still be by my side.

I’m sorry that I couldn't make you happy, Y/N. I hope that… wherever you are… you’ll find someone that’ll bring you happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Another life, where I could be with you all. Together. Happy. But thank you… for loving me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shian's middlemarch #shian imagines #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv imagines #noctis lucis caelum #noctis x reader #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #ignis stupeo scientia #ignis scentia #ignis x reader #cor leonis

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