#Cor is a mischief maker at heart.

[chocobostrinket]

And if it was Gladio's s/o that proposed to him instead of the contrary?~ sweet and fluffy, please?~

The day had started like any other. Both got up at different times, got ready, and went to work. They were normally the first awake, due to working with the marshal. He was known to keep odd hours, which meant up before the sun and working through out the day on most things. Being his lead intelligence officer required them to keep the same hours. Which wasn’t all bad. They were always on top of their work, got a longer lunch hour, and were near their beloved at all times.

Gladio on the other hand could take his time getting to the citadel. Noctis never woke up early if he could help it, despite Ignis’ best attempts. Which gave him enough time to sleep in a bit, go for a run, and then get ready for the day. He didn’t have a schedule like his dearest did. More like he was on call in case Noct wanted to go somewhere. But while he was in the citadel? Noctis was as safe as could be which gave him time to wander about and maybe even catch a few moments with his other. 

It was a simple life. There was no push or pull from either of them for things to change. (Though a small part of him hoped that one day, maybe they’d honor him by taking his last name.)

While he was walking by one of the training rooms, he could hear a voice he recognized. Quietly, so not to distract the combatants, he slipped into the room. He wasn’t the only one here too, and he could see why. His dearest was amazing, flowing through blocks and attacks effortlessly. Cor wasn’t so bad either.

He watched them move forward, refusing to step backwards no matter how hard Cor pushed them. Their breath was heaving as they moved, and their collar and tie slightly undone so their movement wasn’t as restricted. And though they would say that they didn’t look their best, he found them dazzling…

Right until Cor managed to slip past their defense and knock them across the room with the back of his blade.

With a loud thud and a grunt from them, they hit the wall and slid to the floor. He frowned but didn’t rush to them. Though he really really wanted to. (As in every fiber of his being was yelling at him to check if they were hurt.) But if he did, he knew they wouldn’t appreciate it. He could practically hear them scolding him in their head.

They huffed and lightly hit their head against the wall at their back. “This round goes to you, Marshal.”

“Alright. I trust you’ll follow through? “He raised an eyebrow, and if Gladio didn’t know better he looked…pleased. 

They got to their feet, having caught their breath and straightened out their clothes before replying. “Of course.”

“Good.” With that, the gathered crowd cleared the way to the door as the Marshal walked toward it. He caught Gladio’s eye and nodded in acknowledgement, “Gladio.” 

He nodded back to him, and then the Marshal was gone. He had to be imagining things, Gladio thought to himself. But he could have sworn that Cor’s eyes had lit up a little upon seeing him. (Should he be worried? He felt like something was going on and just couldn’t put his finger on it.)

It was only after he had put it out of mind and over heard some of the guard talking about an agreement that his sweetheart had made with the marshal. For the sparring match he assumed. He finally walked over to them as they tried to stretch their shoulder muscles and the knots that must have been forming after their bout.

“Hey.” He smiled and when they heard him they turned and beamed at him.

“Hey there.” But then the smile slipped into a frown, “Oh…did you see all that?” 

“I saw only the last few moments. You looked good babe.” He guided them to face away from him and carefully began to massage the part of their shoulders they had been trying to relax.

They sighed with relief and closed their eyes, leaning into his touch. “I don’t agree, but thank you. …Damn, I’m going to be feeling this all week.”

Gladio laughed. “I’ll bet you will. Sparing with the marshal’s no joke. Can I ask how you got him to? He rarely does these days.”

They smiled, and he felt his heart flutter. (Which he’d deny to the end of his days that their smile still did that to him.) 

“It was just my luck honestly. I caught him in a good mood.” They turned around, and before he could ask any more questions, reached up their hands to his neck to guide him down into a kiss. That made him forget his curiosity, and softly relax into the kiss. 

When they pulled away he opened his eyes and couldn’t get over that they had kissed him. In public. They were never one for public displays, and he wondered if this meant they would be okay if he kissed them in public. All the time. Because he had always wanted to. 

“So, it’s my lunch hour now. Care to join me?” 

“Y-yeah. I mean yes.” He huffed with laughter and really hoped that no one could see how stupidly happy they made him. 

They led the way out of the room, ignoring some of the hoots and whistles from the few trainees that were left. While they opened the door, Gladio turned around and glared at those who were making the noises. Like hell he was going to let them make his sweetheart nervous over that kiss. Especially since her really wanted them to be comfortable in public with him. 

But then they left the room and walked toward their office, presumable to pick up their belongings to go home for lunch. However, they surprised him when they entered their office and then gestured to the couch they had inside. 

“Sit. I packed lunch today because I figured we could just hide out in here for awhile instead of taking the time to go to a restaurant.” 

“I’m fine with that. Just gives us more time to eat.” Gladio flopped into the couch cushions and watched them as they went over to the small kitchen area and began to dig around. upon seeing what they brought out, he snorted.

“Cup noodles? I thought you hated those things.” 

“I don’t hate them, I just think they’re not very healthy.” They threw a frown over their shoulder as they set water onto boil, “And after that fight I deserve to be a bit unhealthy. I got all my training in for the week.”

“I hope you don’t mean that,” He smirked from his place on the couch, “We have a training session together later.” 

They froze for a moment and then groaned. “Shit.”

He laughed quietly and then his expression softened. “But if you really don’t feel up to it, we can skip for this week.”

They sighed and then gave him a smile over their shoulder again. “Like I would miss it.”

After that they both fell into silence. They were so focused on the task at hand, not wanting to burn themselves with the water, that they didn’t notice Gladio watching them. He enjoyed seeming them lost in their head. Which clearly they were. Cup noodles, though good, didn’t require much thought or that much hovering. So the fact that they were standing there meant they had something on their mind. And he could wait to see if they would share. If they didn’t? That was fine too.

Eventually, they wandered back to the couch to let the noodles soak up the water. They flopped down beside Gladio and rested their head against his shoulder. He in turn shifted to put his arm around the back of them. They closed their eyes, just enjoying the closeness, and Gladio couldn’t help but press a kiss to their forehead. A small smile crept across their face and they gave a hum of appreciation. 

But then they broke the silence, “And to think in a few hours we’ll be kicking each other’s asses.”

“Babe, we were having a moment.” He couldn’t help the small laugh that followed.

“Our noodles will get soggy if I let the moment go on too long.” They snickered as they stood. They then strode over to where they had left the noodles and carried one in each hand back to the couch. the pair then got to eating and passed the time by comparing their days and letting the other know where they’d be before their training session. 

Before long, they heard a knock at the door.

They straightened themself up as best they could and then called, “Come in.”

The door swung open and there, once again, was Cor. “Officer.”

“Marshal.” They stood and walked over, “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Of the outer agents kind.” Cor pointedly looked past them at Gladio.

“Ah. A moment then.” They looked over their shoulder. “Glads?”

“Go ahead, I’ll clean up in here before I leave.” He smiled at them and waved.

They flashed a thankful smile at him and then followed the Marshal out the door.

~

He didn’t get to see them again until later in the afternoon. He was already in the training room, considering that Noctis was before his dearest. He’d already sent Noctis on his way, though he had a feeling that him an Prompto were lurking nearby, and maybe even Ignis if he had the time. The three of them could not believe that he was in a relationship, especially with them.

Speaking of them…

“Glads, sorry I’m a little late.” They were smiling, but it didn’t quite reach their eyes. Instead there was a nervousness there. Why? Heck if he knew. 

“It’s fine, I figured whatever had the Marshal pulling you off our break was pretty serious.” He smiled as they reached him and pushed part of their bangs out of their eyes. 

Their smile was a little more genuine after that, and they relaxed. But then they smiled, undoing their tie and collar once more. “Ready to begin?”

“You know it. Should we run through some drills, or would you rather just spar?” Gladio asked, likewise removing his coat. He took their tie and bundled it in his jacket before sliding it across the floor to the wall. 

“Just sparring today. I’m out of practice the Marshal said.” They grimace and shrugged.

“Alright. Get ready then.” 

Unlike most training sessions, the pair used live steel. So any injuries would be real. They both had talked it over when they had started training together, and chose this method purely for the lessons it would teach. They’d also had set guidelines and rules that they followed to keep each other as safe as possible with this. Gladio, though it hurt him to harm them, made peace with the idea by remembering that they would learn from it. 

They stepped back from one another and brought out their weapons. Somewhere off to the side, they both heard a startled squeak.

“They’re going to KILL each other.” The voice was soon silenced by a stern, “SSSHH.” 

They blinked at each other, and had to both keep themselves from laughing. The Prince and his friend. But then they refocused, and dropped into the fight. Both were sizing one another up, as usual. Gladio always attacked first, but this time they didn’t give him a chance to fully take them in. They stepped forward and swung at his right side with their left. It was their weaker side, but it would also take him off guard.

His eyes widened and he blocked with his sword before trying to step forward and into their space to use the pommel to strike their ribs. But they quickly stepped out of reach to his left, and thrust forward. He blocked once more, and started to pick up that they were trying to get him on the defensive. Which caused them to lower their defense a bit more than normal.

With that knowledge, he grinned and began to push back. 

They clashed over and over, moving through out the room. Gladio knew that if he could get one good hit on them it’d be over. But their speed made that extremely difficult. But not impossible. However, both parties had already collected a number of scratches and bruises to the cheers and yells of the two watching. (And if they concentrated on the conversation, they would have caught some rather hilarious commentary from Ignis about their match.) It had been an hour almost since they started, and they both were breathing hard. And so they decided they had to end it. 

Then they surprised him by locking their swords together, and using them as leverage to headbutt him. He blindly retaliated, using the pain to fuel a kick to their stomach and send them flying into the wall. But this time, they managed to land with their feet on the wall and push off back toward him. 

They were moving too fast and his eyes were still teary from the headbutt. It would have been a killing strike, had they not reversed their grip and used the haft of their sword. The blow was enough to knock the wind out of him, as it hit the center of his chest. From there, their momentum threw him off balance and he tipped backwards. The back of his head hit the ground and he was dazed…

right until he felt the blade pressing against his neck.

“…Well damn. I submit.” He huffed in amusement, but then groaned in pain. 

They flopped forward on top of him, just trying to catch their breath. “…You certainly…know….how to keep someone on guard.”

“Sort of my job.” He mumbled. They lay their wallowing in the pain that came after such an intense session, but then both got back to their feet.

“…Infirmary?” They asked, eyeing his swelling nose and they way he held his chest.

“Only if you’re going too dear.” He laughed and they shook their head. 

“I didn’t get my ass handed to me just now.” They replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey now, I gave as good as I got.”

“I’m not the one who looked like they got jumped.” 

“You’re in denial dear.”

“Call me dear one more time, DOLL.”

“Owch babe.”

From the direction of the door they heard one of the boys call out, “Just get married already!” 

To Gladio’s shock, they called back, “Fine!”

“What?”

“Gladio, will you marry me?”

“Uh….” He couldn’t think of a more eloquent response. But then he figured they were joking and grinned. “Sure why not? And you two punks aren’t invited!”

“GLADIO NOOOO.” They heard a whine.

“Prom, lets get out of here now.” The prince was laughing, and they heard THREE sets of footsteps leave.

They both chuckled and went to retrieve their things. But there, they fell into a loaded silence. He wanted to ask them what that was about, but didn’t dare. If they had only been joking, he’d be crushed, but they’d still be dating and maybe it would be a reality one day. But if he brought it up would that seem like he was taking things too fast? Would they be? He’d like to think that they would be married one day…

“Eos to Gladio?” They called, and snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, yeah?” He turned toward them and froze when they took his hands in theirs slowly.

“I was actually serious.” 

He blinked. And then he blinked again. Then heat rushed to his face as he looked them in the eye. “Uh…w-what do you mean.”

“I’d been trying to ask you ever since this morning with Cor… Which, by the way, we should thank him somewhere down the line.”

“Why?” His voice was soft, but he didn’t break eye contact. 

“Well…we sort of got to speaking, because he’d heard about our relationship I guess. And wanted to know how long we’d been going out.” They squeezed his hands. 

Honestly, he wasn’t really sure this was happening. Maybe he had read WAY too many romances lately and this was a dream. But he really really hoped it wasn’t. “And?”

“He brought up if I wanted to marry you.” They brought up one of his hands to their mouth to kiss his knuckles, and lowered it once more.

“What did you say?” His heart was beating in his ears, making everything seem distant.

“That I do.” 

He surged forward and kissed them, trying press into them just how much he loved them. And when they needed to pull apart to breath, he started peppering kisses all over their face. They in turn just held him close. 

“I love you, you know.” He said, his lips still pressed to their forehead. 

“I love you too.” They said. They they pulled away, a small smile on their face. “So will you? You never gave an actual answer.”

They’d hardly finished speaking before he almost shouted, “Yes.”

[secret-engima]

Have you played World of Final Fantasy? Because that stack sounds, a lot like that party system. Pease consider Ardyn, meeting his platonic Troll mate in Aulea, gender bending a few of his Somnus memories, & reaching deep into the briefings his Niflheim had given him on the Lucian Royal Family to craft stories of his supposed half-sister. When some moron with a death wish asks what this supposed sister looked like, cue some very flat stares. Nox and Ardyn work together to craft a painting (1/?)

Anonymous said: (2/?) of the supposed mother of Nox. They base it on Somnus, with bits of Aera, Cindy, and Aryana Highwind. It is both a tribute to those they've lost, and to those they've found. She's beautiful, with a mona lisa smile under her laughing eyes. She sprawls across a Solheim ruin, somehow seeming whole in her presence, and crumbling at the further edges.

Me: I have not, actually! That’s funny though, that my stack sounds like the party system XD. Also MY FEELS. WHY HURT MY FEELS THIS WAY. Alright my turn. Buckle up, let’s see if I can make anyone cry.

Ardyn and Nox are ... very nervous about making the painting at first, because what if Regis says he never saw a woman like that? Then they realize that their cover story supposes a single meeting, a one-night stand 15-16+ years ago, probably while Regis was drunk, so they’re fine. So they set about crafting a beautiful painting. A tribute to the women (and brother) who helped shape their lives so powerfully, a goodbye to those same people who they will either never meet again, or at least, will never have the same relationship, the same shared memories, as before.

They make her a white tiger (the closest they can get to this Aulea’s snow leopard without giving the game away), with a beautiful blue top that is reminiscent of Aera’s favorite dress (not her white Oracle dress, but the one she wore when she was just herself, when it was just her and Ardyn in the gardens, with the see-through elbow sleeves and the delicate gold embroidery), and a staff carved with travel blessings in her hands instead of a trident (Aera’s staff, her favorite for when she was traveling at least moderately incognito). Her hair is Ardyn’s violet-red to help maintain the image of sibling-hood, cut almost Somnus level short, practical and slightly wispy wild like Somnus’s the one time he had started to grow it out as a teen before deciding longer hair was too much of a hassle. Her skin tone is a bit darker than Somnus’s porcelain though, like someone who spends a great deal of time traveling beneath the sun (Cindy’s tan). She’s got a bright, full smile on her face, Cindy’s sunshine and cheer that show off her fangs, but it also has a large dose of Aranea’s lazy mischief in the expression, from lips to half-lidded eyes that makes the expression seem like good-natured trouble. Her outfit shows off the lean muscles on her upper half that match the corded power of her hindquarters, Aranea’s jumping power and speed on display, not that anyone but them know it.

Her eyes are a bright, armiger blue, and anyone looking at the picture would insist she has Nox’s cheekbones and a more feminine version of his jawline.

She’s sprawled out, as you say, in a Solheim ruin, as if posing for a picture. Around her the colors are lush and vibrant, the lines clean, the ruins somehow seeming alive and whole despite still being clearly ruins, but the farther into the background one looks, the more faded the colors are, the more crumbled and desolate the ruins.

When Ardyn and Nox reveal the picture to Regis and Co, shyly looking for approval to hang it somewhere where others can see, Regis finds his breath stolen. He wracks his memory for a woman like this, hoping to REMEMBER- but he can’t. He’s not surprised. It’s been long time, years and years, and there were several tigers, both white and orange, in his youth that he had flirted to bed, and he’s more than a little sure that they would have both been drunk the one time they met, or else surely a Niflheim woman would never dare have a one-night stand with a dragontaur, a Lucis Caelum. Even so, he sees Ardyn and Nox in the picture of the woman, in the eyes and hair and cheekbones and jaw. He sees hints of LIFE in the painting, of stories untold and adventures unspoken. The giant painting (because Ardyn and Nox do nothing by halves and did a life-sized painting) looks so REAL, so detailed and vibrant he more than half expects it to suddenly spring right out of the picture and start teasing Ardyn, who is himself staring at it with sad, nostalgic eyes.

Aulea bumps her hip against his and breaks the building tension made by his silence by calmly stating that, oh yeah, she can see why Regis tapped that. Regis sputters loudly, Clarus groans, Nox hides his face in his hands to muffle his semi-hysterical laughter while Ardyn just GRINS like a loon and chirps that “Indeed! His sibling was always QUITE the catch!”

Cor just tilts his head, considering the picture, trying to piece together a life story from the details Ardyn no doubt guided Nox through (they all know Nox was the primary painter of the two, but Ardyn would no doubt remember his half-sister much better, if Nox even remembered his mother at all). Cor sees ... traveller, warrior, mischief maker, leader. He sees a woman who travelled and let nothing stop her, who laughed loud and roared loud, who no doubt teased and bossed her half-sibling into joining her on whatever trip she had in mind, who let herself be teased and goaded into whatever madcap scheme Ardyn came up with that time. He sees a woman who could fight and knew it well, who lived easy in her skin because of it. He sees a hard worker in the callouses on her hands and the little smudges of dirt on her face.

He’s sees kindness in the tilt of her head and the flashing blue of her eyes, in the genuine cheer and goodnatured mixed in with the mischief of her smile.

Cor’s vague theories of an abusive mother for Nox ... fade. He trusts Ardyn’s memories enough to believe this is not a delusional, “clean” version, but rather a painting trying to capture what only memory could truly know. This woman would not have harmed her son. It must have been her husband, the one Ardyn has mentioned only once or twice with dark eyes, who took over Nox’s rearing after Nox’s mother died (died while Nox was very young, Cor recalls, not long after Nox had been born, he’d said) that had done the damage Cor has seen before Ardyn took custody and tried his best.

He wishes for a moment he could have met her. He thinks she would have been a good addition to the Citadel, once the awkwardness between her and Regis faded.

Regis ... ASTOUNDS Ardyn and Nox when he doesn’t just give permission for them to hang the picture somewhere, he insists the picture be hung in the special wing reserved for life-sized royal family portraits (not the Hall of Arts, that’s more of a museum of LC history and world history overall). Aulea is holding his hand as he speaks, unhesitating support in her every line and Nox quietly starts to cry when they hang up the painting he and Ardyn made right next to the one of Regis and Aulea together (and now Regis is glad that he bucked the tradition of separate portraits in favor of a shared one, it means there is a perfect spot for this one to rest next to his and Aulea’s, an appropriate place for the mother of his eldest and sister of his half-brother). Ardyn is tearing up too despite his grin, and Nox’s quiet, fervent thank you hurts Regis’s heart a little.

When the servants go to attach her name plaque, they realize suddenly that Ardyn has never actually mentioned his sibling by NAME. Not that they can remember at least. They ask Regis, who asks Ardyn and Nox, and while Nox freezes a bit in panic (they can’t say any of the names she was based on, surely not even Aera’s), Ardyn tugs his hat over his face and softly says, “Stella. Her name was Stella.”

And Nox hurts quietly on his uncle’s behalf at the grief in his uncle’s magic, at the stiffness in his uncle’s wings, even as Regis nods and leaves to go relay the message. “Uncle...?”

“Mother always used to say,” Ardyn murmurs as he puts his hat back on, a smiling mask in place, “that she had hoped for a daughter. I had already been born to Father’s previous wife, so there was an heir to the kingdom and there would be no negative repercussions if she had a daughter to dote on.”

Nox pauses, thinks of medieval medicine, how in Ardyn’s time potions and other magical medicines had not yet been fully developed, “A stillborn?” He guesses in dread.

Ardyn huffs, “No. Nothing that tragic.” Ardyn starts walking away, aiming for the gardens and a sunny patch no doubt, “Stella was what Mother was going to name Somnus if he had been born a girl. I used to use it to tease him when people commented on his ‘delicate features’. It was my nickname for him for throughout our childhood, up until he became commander of the kingdom’s armies and insisted that I would ruin his reputation among the men if I was ever overheard and that I shouldn’t risk it anymore.”

Ardyn disappears around the corner. The old silence left behind is very loud.

By the next day, people are gossiping over the stunning new picture in the Royal Family portrait wing, right next to Regis’s and Aulea’s shared one, in the spot where traditionally the wife’s portrait would have been had they not gotten theirs done together. A beautiful white tiger with mischief in her eyes and sunshine in her smile and and flyaway violet-red hair that makes people whisper over the similarity to the king’s half-brother.

The little plaque on the frame of the painting reads “Stella Izunia Caelum”

[the-truth-will-light-the-sky]

Road Trip with Prince Regis and His Crew

Prince Regis Lucis Caelum crosses the continent alongside his friends Cid Sophiar, Weskham Armaugh, Clarus Amicitia, the young but firecracker Cor Leonis and an unexpected guide. Who can shower in the rain? 

Long Headcanon post...again. 

The song playing in my mind each time I imagine Prince Regis and his friends cutting across the continent towards Accordo is “Blowing in The Wind” by Stevie Wonder (his version is so beautiful). Imagine the prince and his friends singing the lyrics to the songs they love, not minding if they’re out of tune or out of sync (that’s Cid).

Regis  

Regis is the fussiest among the rest of the crew. Not about mud or dust. It’s not that. The only thing he’d ever care about are his dirty clothes.

He’s used to presenting himself in the best image at all times, he’s used to keeping his look pristine and well-kept and so must his clothes.

Oh and hygiene. He’s fine with dirt. But no proper baths or showers? Expect the prince to be pouty until their next motel or caravan stop.

Gloves all day, every day. In the cold, in the heat, while sleeping, while eating --  Prince Regis doesn’t like dirt in between his fingernails. 

Aside from all these, Regis is a complete outdoors man. He can adapt to any situations and would always have the best solution to the weather.

Rain? He’s got an umbrella at his disposal. Too hot? He’s brought his sleeveless shirts (black and sleek, of course. He has to wear those for the photos because Aulea loves seeing him in those things). Too cold? He’s got the thickest and comfiest coat. Fashionable too, of course.

When it comes to food, despite being used to the finest cuisine Lucis and Insomnia has to offer, Regis can stomach just about anything.

He’s endured so many things even at a young age. Five star food can wait. At twenty, Regis doesn’t mind if he’s eating toast all day or beans. He can eat any vegetables that Weskham can find.

Regis brought most of his essentials with him. As mentioned, there’s his hygiene and shaving kit. He’s also brought his sewing kit to fix those loose buttons and yes his pants that is ripped in the middle, his medicine (he gets allergic to the outdoors sometimes; Cid calls him a princess), his favourite book, extra pairs of gloves (must hide that ring), flashlights, extra weapons just in case he loses yet another dagger, his favourite coffee brand and of course, and of course his phone card (gotta call his sweetheart Aulea).

Regis is a really bad driver — every one of them would scramble for the seat belts only to know there aren’t any. Instead, they’d hang on to their dear lives each time he’s behind the wheel.

Regis would drive and chat, much to everyone’s horror. Cid’s incessant cursing doesn’t help either, as it even encourages Regis to be animated with his expressions and uses his hands to tell his stories.

Regis is not the first to rise in the mornings, but he’s not the last either. He’s more of the middle.

He’s one of the last to sleep, though. He’s got a lot on his mind. 

And the complete darkness gives him the chills. He’s used to the comfort of Insomnia’s bright lights or his bedside lamp.

The Prince has the quickest reflexes and the sharpest hearing, too. So if anyone starts to fight their pillow in their sleep (it’s Cid), he’s the first to grab his heavy flashlight to brandish about as if all of Eos’ daemons are jam-packed in their already full tent.

Regis would give Cid a playful kick in the leg to rouse him from his sleep, much to no avail.

Being a proper prince and all, Regis is not an unruly tent mate. He keeps much to his own space and rarely snores.

Just don’t deprive him of his pillow and blanket. He’s used to comfort and his back hurts a lot if he doesn’t have any cushioning. Cid calls him a sissy, to which the Prince retorts that he won’t share his exquisite Lucian blanket when the temperature gets cold. 

He kept his word, of course. Cid immediately regretted the decision as the comforter reached up only until Weskham. He’d have to endure the surface and the cold. His favourite line of ‘Oh my achin’ back’ originated from this little event.

He’s the guy who wants the oil lamp to be set to dim at night inside the tent, not to be extinguished at all.

The Prince of Lucis does the dishes. Don’t let the sharp suit and neatly trimmed nails fool you. He’s built for hard work and he’s willing to do it all.

Just don’t make him put up the tent, if you don’t want it to look like a child’s make-believe fortress in the end.

Prince Regis can be a rebel out in the wild. He’s not a stranger to mischief despite his gentlemanly demeanour. Like every young man, he always likes to get away with some trouble making.

Regis prefers to use his weapons against daemons whenever they stayed too late out in the wilds. He would be inheriting the Ring of the Lucii but he prefers not to use it against the daemons.

He’s not afraid to fight them off. Although, he has a particular dislike of those Nagaranis and Necromancers. Gives him the shivers like the Frozen’s Glacian’s breath breathing down his neck.

The Prince, despite his wealth, is the stingiest of all the guys. He’d hold back until the last moment a.k.a. until the seller gives up and gives him half the price. Score!

Thinks he’s the coolest guy in Lucis whenever he drives his car. He’s a bit vain when he’s out on the road; he knows he looks too damn fine and sexy in his gloves as he drives out into the wild in his sleek and shiny Regalia.

Cid

The able mechanic has all his tools with him. It’s stored in the back of the Regalia, inside his pockets, even inside his jacket or his screwdriver tucked in his pants. Don’t ask where he keeps the screws.

Cid is the rowdiest of the group. And he never shuts up.

He does keep to himself sometimes, but if he’s in one of his moods, Cid will just keep on singing to his heart’s content.

He likes to take the wheel when on the road, but Regis says no.

Aside it from being his car, Regis knows that if Cid is behind the wheel, it means that the grumpy mechanic holds all reins to the car audio system.

It’s all country music or swampy music of course. Cowboy tunes are his favourite.

Not that the guys mind, of course. They’re not choosy. But it’s Cid’s incessant singing that bugs them.

He can’t even sing the songs right, almost always singing the lyrics late. When he realises this, he tries to quicken his singing to keep up with the song. It’s like listening to those tapes that you fast forward. It’s both funny and annoying at the same time.

Cor would never admit it, but he likes it whenever Cid starts singing. It gives him the best laughs in his ‘boring’ life.

In the whole crew, Cid is the most un-fussiest of them all when it comes to camping.

Beans for lunch? Great, tastes like caviar. No water for showering? He can shower in the rain. A snoring Clarus for the rest of the night? Why, music to his ears. A bratty Cor Leonis? Lemme handle this brat.

Cid loves camping. He’s ecstatic to be out in the wild. He’s not fond of the bright lights of Insomnia. He likes looking out into the wild lands each time he has the chance. And now he’s out here and there’s nothing that he could ever ask for. Oh, uh, except for peace of course. Peace needs to be won.

Cid, despite his hard demeanour, is a softie for the wild animals. The rest of the crew loves animals, of course, but the animals love Cid like he’s their daddy.

The mechanic can even tame a bloody sabertusk, petting its head while Clarus wrestles with one beside him, screaming as he does so.

Regis runs away from a pack of rogue Daggerquills while Cid has one perched on his shoulders like he’s freakin’ Snow White. He’s proud of it, of course.

‘They ain’t like the varmints folks call ‘em — they’re practically a softie!’ Cid says about a skarnbulette.

He even thinks a behemoth is an adorable little kitty. Clarus gives him the weird look reserved only for the looniest of people. Cid’s the second in that list of his, and that’s not a compliment.

Cid Sophiar puts up the tent. He’s the best tent maker around. The rest of them can screw it. Yup, his own words, not mine.

Cid is almost always awakened each time Regis rises from his sleep. The two best friends are inseparable despite their differences.

It is also universally known that if Regis catches the stomach flu, expect Cid to get the same predicament or something similar.

Cor Leonis gets on Cid Sophiar’s nerves. Not because the fifteen year old ‘stuck up’ is a hyper active teen because he’s not. It’s because he treats Cid with the utmost respect even if the older man tries to rile him up to get any kind of reaction from him aside from his usual stoic scowl.

Cid Sophiar always gets the ladies’ numbers if they’re ever stopping by civilisation. He’s a ladies’ man. Sorry, Weskham.

If only Cid’s incessant cursing and badmouthing can kill even the fiercest of daemons, Regis would be grateful. The mechanic slings out bad words like a freakin’ machine gun.

Weskham

This Keycatrich native is the calmest of the group.

Nothing ever freaks him out. Not even a rogue Behemoth screeching eerily close to their camps at night. Nope. Not even Cid’s stink eye nor Cor’s tantrums.

He’s the parent of the group. He’s the one who administers the medicines and the salves, the one who cooks, the one who is the first to rise from sleep.

He’s also got the longest patience. Cid can mumble his cowboy tunes like a broken vinyl record and Clarus can snore as loud as a behemoth until dawn and Regis can be all too fussy for not showering for two days and Cor can keep on babbling about the empire’s demise all day and night. Weskham doesn’t bat an eyelash. He’s chill.

But if anyone loses any of his pens or scratches his pans, expect a little scolding. Yes, even Regis…especially Regis. The prince accidentally washes his prized pan with the rough texture side of the sponge.

Being an able cook, Weskham can whip any delicious food up with just about any ingredient, to which the crew is very much grateful for. At least they won’t have bean soup for the third night straight. He’s looking at Cid.

Weskham is the most civil when it comes to getting rid of both vicious animals and villainous daemons. Swift and painless.

He has the best tunes than the rest of the crew. Whatever he picks to play in the Regalia, anyone would say it’s an agreeable choice.

Weskham loves to tell stories by the camp fire. This is Regis’ favourite part of the night.

The wise man always has something to tell and most of the time his stories are both exciting and insightful.

The guys look like children huddled by the camp fire, their eyes glued on the charismatic man as he regales them of tales of days past.

Weskham, suspiciously enough, has keys for almost everything.

When it comes to sleeping, Weskham is a shallow sleeper. He can rouse from his sleep just like Regis but unlike the Prince, this gentleman handles his sudden awakening with a very calm and collected demeanour, not thrashing about like a coeurl.

He is the only one in the group with a watch. In fact, he’s got like, five pocket watches?

He’s also the one they can rely on when it comes to reading compasses. But without it though, Weskham is, in Clarus’ own words, as useless as a dessert spoon.

Weskham is the voice of conscience. If Regis is driving recklessly, expect him to tell the prince to glue his eyes on the road. He’s also the one to tell Cid not to bother poor Leonis.

He is also the negotiator of the group. Cid is the opposite of course. When Cid gets them into trouble with anyone, especially at diners, Weskham is the man to do the job of clearing things. Regis can’t do it though because he won’t stop laughing at the bumbling mechanic.

Clarus

Clarus Amicitia hates bugs. He won’t stay still whenever he sees one. He won’t freak out, goodness no. But expect him to be jumpy each time he’d feel a mosquito on his skin. Those hundlegs? No thanks.

This is where his skill with blades come in handy. A fly on flying in front of you? SLASH. Clarus just slashed it in half with his little dagger. Cor wants to emulate it…he fails each time.

Cor asks his secret to being precise and agile. Clarus agrees to do so if Cor can tell him if the mosquito was a female or male. The young soldier gives him the famous Cor Leonis scowl. Priceless.

Clarus is the most adaptable to sleep and waking up. He needs to wake up early? No prob, he’ll be asleep by eight pm. He needs to stay up? No prob, bring in the coffee and expect him to be as hyper at four in the morning.

He likes to work out as much as he can. He also trains young Cor as Weskham cooks their food and Regis does his regular shave.

Clarus and Cid get on each others’ nerves sometimes. Nothing serious, though. It’s more that Clarus is used to keeping quiet and Cid is just the blabber mouth of the group. 

He particularly HATES it whenever Cid clicks his tongue to fill in the silence, especially at night.

He likes watching the stars before he goes to sleep. There’s something so calming about it each time he’d gaze at the stars in their millions.

He keeps a journal where he writes his star charts. 

He also writes about the animals and plants he sees. Everything about the wilderness amazes him. Yes, Clarus is the explorer of the group. One day, he’ll live out somewhere in Duscae where he’s surrounded by all things living. Insomnia’s just too full of buildings…and malls.

Clarus smuggled a frog in their journey. It’s his favourite pet, found it in Alstor Slough. His name is Pepito. Please don’t ask him why. Regis can’t get rid of it, not that he hates it. He likes it and wants it for himself. It’s just that, they can’t keep it from croaking all the damn time. Plus, Cid says frogs give warts. Weskham wants it out. Cor wants to keep it because it keeps the mosquitoes away. The said frog made it back to Insomnia.

He likes to sing in the mornings. He’s just way too happy in the early dawn.

Sabertusks hate Clarus. He doesn’t know why, but they always try to go after him. Remind him to bring extra clothes because he always ends up having ripped sleeves.

He’s the one who gets the fire going. Nobody else can do it like he does.

Clarus is not fussy with anything at all, except for his weapons. They have to be polished each time. 

Oh and, they must always have some hot sauce in their spices. This man lives for the spice.

And please, no matter what happens, please don’t give him those instant noodles. He wants real food. And real food takes time to be cooked.

Dirty nails, every damn time, no matter how many times he cleans them. It sets Regis’ hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Has the best whistle in the group; could be heard hundreds of feet away. No joke.

He’s also the navigator of the group. Regis is a lost cause in map reading and Cid is always holding the map on the wrong end. Weskham helps, but he’s not good with the actual terrain. 

Clarus sees a coin on the ground. He takes it. He sees a wonderfully shaped stone. He stashes it in his pocket. He finds a small crystalline curiosity. He covets it like a diamond ring. He’s the pack rat of the group.

Cor

Cor Leonis only thinks of one thing: keep the Prince safe. It’s hard-wired into his system. A pesky Voretooth is gnawing at the prince? Get rid of it. A cockroach is crawling on the prince’s shoulder? Smack it away. No more coffee? He’ll walk a kilometre to buy one.

Despite this, however, he’s no pet. He’s only doing his duty. Cor is not afraid to call out the prince if he’s doing something wrong. And it always happens.

Rain or shine, the young soldier always wears his hat. He’ll chase after it if it gets blown away. Cid teases him that he’s hiding something in his hat. He probably is, who knows?

Cor can sleep anywhere. He’s not fussy how he falls asleep. This boi can sleep standing up. 

He sleeps as still as a door nail -- he doesn’t move at all. He’s the perfect tent mate.

He loves to read his books before sleeping. Not maths or his studies, those are boring, he says. He likes to read nonfiction books about the world and of course, philosophy.

Cor can deny it all he wants, but he secretly likes it whenever Weskham makes a bowl of chilli. He lives for chilli nights.

He’s an all-around-er, meaning he can do almost anything. He’s a walking Swiss Knife.

If there are any imperial locks they needed to pick, Cor is expected to open it with ease. Oh and those tough cans of beans, he’s the only one who could open them.

Cor Leonis is stuck in the Regalia with older men. It’s not like he’s bothered by it; he even thinks as if he’s older than Cid. 

What he doesn’t get is their taste in music. He prefers the silence.

He likes to whistle, however. It’s the only habit that he can’t stop himself from doing.

He has a dislike for V, their guide. He doesn’t like that she dresses in men’s clothes and hides her face most of the time. He doesn’t trust people with secrets even if they have a good reason for it.

Cor treats her with courtesy but expect him to square his jaws whenever she gets to an enemy before him.

The wild animals love Cor Leonis. Even the bugs, much to his dismay.

He’s also known as the ‘Sunburn Kid’ as he always ends having his nose red after a long day on the road. He wears longs sleeves to shield himself from the sun, but his nose couldn’t escape the wrath of the sun.

He’s also the one who is more likely to catch a cold. He would have allergies too that would cause him to sneeze incessantly. The older guys feel sorry for the firecracker kid. He gets all pouty and his eyes would get so watery he looks like an innocent child.

Cor has names for everyone in the group, but he would never divulge it.

In fact, he has names for almost everything. It’s his way of amusing himself when the group starts talking about things like allergies or romance. Gotta keep himself entertained or else he might lose it.

Whenever they end up stopping by a gas station or a Crow’s Nest diner, Cor is the centre of attention.

Women of all ages gawk at him. The way he presents himself is a real lady killer. The older ladies remember their old romances back in the day, the moms would fuss about him asking if he’s already eaten and the young girls his age or the young women in their twenties would stare at him like he’s a rare chocobo.

Regis loves making fun of him, taking photos of the stoic young soldier as he whistles. He’s kind of proud of the ‘lil heartbreaker.

Clarus gives him the stink eye. It’s unfair.

Buys postcards from every damn outpost. He never sends it to anyone. He likes to collect them in his journal of mementos. Yup, Cor is loves to journal.

Cor is also the one with the most mosquito bites after a night at camp. He doesn’t know why, but bugs just love him.

Clumsy. He’s supposed to be the paragon of stoicism and grace, but somehow Cor ends up spilling his coffee on his pants, tripping on flat surfaces or knocking down merchandise. 

Beside disliking V, he found himself imitating her love for the word ‘phony.’

V

V finds herself crossing paths with Prince Regis and his crew. During their journey, she’s hired by the prince as their guide after she defeated a group of Reapers faster than any of them ever did.

That was before they knew she was a woman. She wore men’s clothing, trying not to show her face just in case someone who knows her sees her and asks why she hasn’t aged at all.

This triggered Cor’s suspicions about her when she revealed that she’s a woman by speaking since Cid won’t stop asking her about things.

Cor wants her out but Regis was adamant. Her skills and expertise in medicine would prove useful if they ever run out of potions supplies and their supplies are indeed running out, as well as their money. Plus it doesn’t hurt having a girl in the group.

After escaping Somnus Lucis Caelum two millennia ago, she lived her life as a rogue traveler, performing odd jobs from healer to scholar to hunter. That’s how she learned how to survive, hiding from the eyes of her most hated Lucian King.

During their days together, she doesn’t know who the guys are, even Regis. They never told her of their real identity nor their missions. In turn, she didn’t reveal her full name and never once stated her disdain for the Lucian line.

A wild woman in the battlefield. Cor considers her a savage in the way she fights as she fights with unrefined movements and uses every damn thing she can to her advantage. 

A crate on by the rocks? The perfect thing to throw on a Bulette before it rolls over and flattens poor Regis. A crouching Clarus? Why the perfect leverage for a pole arm dive attack. Cor’s daggers tucked in his back pockets? The best emergency weapons.

Veritas would often shout to the crew about the daemon’s weaknesses and would encourage them to use whatever they can to exploit the daemons’ weaknesses to kill them swiftly and painlessly.

She helps with the herb gathering, often times saving the guys from stomach aches or worse by telling them which mushrooms are not fit for consumption. Whoops. No wonder Regis gets stomach aches as he always picks the wrong ones! Good thing he didn’t get the ones with poison.

V can barter with the prices whenever they’d stop over at a market. Despite concealing her face, people know of the mysterious hunter who saved their hides a lot of times. So when this woman needs some discount, they’re not hesitant to give her some. They’d even throw in some free things, too, much to the crew’s gratitude. They once drove off with two boxes full of supplies and hurrah, Regis’ favourite coffee brand.

When it comes to hygiene, V is just like Clarus. She can handle all the dirt. She doesn’t have to shower a lot, much to Regis’ dismay. How can a woman be so unlady-like? V doesn’t mind, there’s always some place she can find for that most coveted shower time.

One of the boys. If there’s one thing that the crew has noticed is her lack of…femininity.

She can be as brusque as Clarus or as bad-mouthed as Cid (to a lesser degree, thank goodness) and as tough as Cor.

But show her a spider and all femininity goes back to her in a snap. 

She once spilled her hot cup of coffee on herself when a spider jumped at her one morning and Regis found himself holding on to a scared witless V. That started their friendship that would last a long time since in fact, Regis himself is terrified of spiders. So they both ran towards Clarus who also ran towards a very confused Cor Leonis who in turn held the spider in his hands (Regis cringes) and out of their sight.

V loves to catch the first rays of the sun as well as the last golden light at dusk. She talks of different things with them, especially with Weskham whose wisdom and calm demeanour she finds refreshing.

When it comes to sleeping, V sleeps outside the tent, much to their protests. Cor Leonis is suspicious of her, so he sleeps outside sometimes too.

She likes listening to the guys as they banter. She’d inadvertently join in, causing a ruckus when she defeated Cid in a ‘back talk’.

She doesn’t need saving, even from persistent men in the diner. 

Regis likes watching her turn down good looking men and women. She once smacked a guy in the face when she felt him feeling her up. 

Clarus had to carry her away. That’s the only saving she needed, much to the prince’s amusement. He remembers that, even until today.