SO I'M CUTTING THAT BRANCH OFF THE CHERRY TREE.SINGING; "THIS WILL BE MY VICTORY,"THEN I
SEE THEM COMING AFTER ME.AND THEY'RE FOLLOWING ME ACROSS THE SEA.
THE QUEEN | THE WILDFLOWER
IND. SEL. FFXV MULTIMUSE RP BLOG.LOVED BY KATIE.
SO UM.
I finally decided to give Regis and Clarus their own blogs.
I just got the muses back and I’m excited to be writing again!!
I don’t know if I’ll give Cor his own yet but I might. I will keep this blog up as an archive.
I also have a new OC I’m super happy about! So check him out!
“'Cause I long for that look of surprise when you see your son rising at last! The pride in your eyes when you see your son rising at last!”
“I will make you proud. get the answers and set you free. Don’t you worry, whatever it might take, I’m finding a way And I swear right now that no matter what comes of me, anybody who stands or has stood in my path, they are going to pay! They…will…pay.”
@bitterroyalty Whoops, my hand slipped!
Also obligatory tag for @captaindrautos because it is angst and involves musicals. Kinda sorta.
Silence.
Regis breathed in slowly through his nose, and closed his eyes for a moment to take in what Clarus said. He…well, he wasn’t good at this sort of thing. His father wouldn’t even let Regis speak during Council meetings- his ability to articulate his own thoughts was still ‘lacking,’ in his fathers words. So he stood there for a moment, letting the quiet help him organize his thoughts.
“Bullocks.” Ah- that wasn’t what he meant to say. Releasing the rack, Regis carefully stepped over Clarus where he sat, and took a moment to lower himself to the floor next to him. One leg raised so he could rest an arm on his knee, while the other splayed out in front of him. Clearing his throat, he glanced up at a spot on the ceiling, and decided to fixate on it.
“Er, what I mean is- sure, you’ve got to get better. So do I, really. And… Mors, he’s got to get better, too. And Ambrose. And….everyone in the Crownsguard.” He mused, voice thoughtful, as he lifted his free hand to fidget a little.
“No matter who you are, there’s always someone out there who’s better. ‘Sides, everyone starts somewhere. I can’t imagine how many times Ambrose got tossed around by his old man. And.. his old man by his, I guess. Not that it makes your dad any better, mind you- he really ticks me off.” The hand that was fidgeting gently reached out, resting against Clarus’ shoulder with the lightest of touches. He had no idea if Clarus had been wounded from the ordeal or not, and wasn’t risking hurting the guy.
“He’s just giving you a bum rap. Your old man….doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Clarus. He’s just being impatient. You’ll get better, I’ll get better.. Six, maybe some day, we’ll throw them on their backs. That’ll be the day I can say I’d die happy.”
Clarus isn’t really looking at his Prince, in fact, his eyes are cast downwards. He doesn’t deserve his gaze. Doesn’t deserve to look his Prince in the eye. He had failed him today. Made a mockery of him---
Ambrose was right.
He was a piss poor Shield.
He didn’t even know he was sitting next to him until he heard the other begin to speak. Regis was kind trying to ease his troubled mind but didn’t he see he didn’t need to? It would pass. He would get better. Show the royal that he was meant to be his Shield. He wasn’t a boy, he was man---
He hadn’t been a boy since his mother left.
Clarus gave a small smile at the last sentence and lifted his head looking ahead to nothing but baskets of wine. “You think so?” He replied finally, and the tears were streaming down his face openly now. Something his father would not appreciate he was sure.
“It feels like I’m not getting any better. I can’t--- I can’t please him. And all I want is to make him proud so maybe he’d stop being so cruel.” He spoke softly as his eyes looked down again before looking back up. “I don’t mean to put my troubles on you.” He didn’t realize how close they had gotten. Normally Clarus would put distance between them but for now it was. . . comforting to have someone near.
“You are truly. . . a good friend, Reggie. Thank you.”
“Why are you so stubborn?” Ambrose glared down at his son the way that a lion looks at a wounded zebra. Pure, instinctual anger. He pressed his boot down on Clarus’ ankle. “Try to get up one more time and I’ll snap this without hesitation.”
The pain was unimaginable. But he felt with it. He would overcome it, he always does but man did it hurt like a bitch. He gasped out, and debated whether he should give him the point or not.
“--- You wouldn’t. You’d--- have no need to deal with--- a broken soldier.” He mumbled, calling his buff.
But just in case.
“I yield.”
Clarus held the photographs in his hands and skimmed each of them. His privacy was violated but honestly, he wasn’t surprised. Ambrose wasn’t the type to let things be.
“You had me followed?” He spoke, looking from the pictures and then to his father.
He shook his head. “--- She has a name.” Clarus took a deep breath. “She is not a rat. She is a member of the Crownsguard. Isn’t that worthy of your respect? To those who serve your Kingdom?”
Clarus knew he’d get smacked across the face for that but honestly? He wasn’t having it. “Dea and I are friends. I respect her.”
i gotta thank YOU for this anger
that i carry around
wish i could take a match
and burn this whole room to the ground
matter of fact i think
i'ma burn this room right now
so now this MEMORY
for some reason just won't come down
as told by sam & katie
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