#have some highwind sibling feels

[stellarhistoria]

q16: recall their first kiss. alternatively: why have they not had their first kiss?

zee... oh, zee. his first kiss, and his first kiss with zee felt like falling, like flying, like he knew he would hit the ground and hit the ground hard but he didn't care, he could only think of how he wanted to keep zee close to him, and he could feel the giggling start. he felt young, truly felt his age, truly felt like the student that he was, like a schoolboy in love. he thought it was forever. he thought zee was the one. he should have remembered that falling came with one key component: hitting the ground. he should have known better.

q17: label past injuries that have had a lasting effect.

1. on his way out of the manor, his father "accidentally" made a trophy made of clay and glass crash onto him. some of the glass scarred his back and upper arm. it's given him anxiety when people are too quiet around him. 2. not so much an injury as an event, but multiple failed kidnappings as ceo and master of the magic tower has made him paranoid despite his friendliness.

q18: who do they go to for comfort?

his siblings or miss highwind.

q19: what is their preferred weather?

cloudless and sunny, with a constant, slight breeze.

q20: do they swear? how much?

he tries not to, but when he gets truly angry, he will begin to swear in a very uh, colorful? way. namely in the way of, he will never say things that are along the way of "fuck," "shit," or "damn." he will, however, say things like "may the devil use the tendons in your back as jumprope and repeatedly step upon them as he forgets how to jump every day".

[greyias]

From the protective sibling starters: “I’d never let anyone else talk shit about you. Only I can.”

Draike Highwind had a public image to maintain. As he was forcibly ejected from Carrick Station’s VIP Lounge and the swanky party he’d managed to sweet talk his way into, he took care to appear in control of the situation. His humiliating exit had been witnessed, much to his consternation. In an attempt at cool nonchalance, he straightened his jacket and ran his hand through his hair.

Sadly, his convincing performance did not seem to work, and his brother-in-law came sauntering over, sporting an amused smirk that Draike would gladly wipe off the other man’s face. He made one last attempt to pretend he hadn’t seen the spy, hope springs eternal and all that, and tried to head for the bar opposite his pursuer—but was intercepted before he got halfway there.

How did the man move so damn fast? Must have been the SIS training. Or the (supposed) Jedi training. Either way, it was unnatural.

“Smooth moves, Highwind.”

“Shut it, Shan!”

He really wasn’t in the mood.

Of course, Theron Shan was as perceptive as he was annoying, and he immediately noticed the shiner that was already making its presence known. He quirked a brow.

“So—” Somehow he drew the word out into multiple syllables, “I take it this means you’re making friends?”

Normally, Draike would have the perfect response ready, some zinger that would sink in and wipe that smug look off the spy’s face in a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, there was something about the arch of Theron’s brow, the throbbing behind Draike’s eye, and the casual question that transported him back over three decades...

“This isn’t how you make friends, Draike.”

Draike attempted to stare sullenly at the ground, but his mother’s firm grip on his chin prevented him from completely avoiding her stern, yet disappointed, gaze. It was a look he was all too familiar with, as was the heavy sigh she let out as she carefully examined the purpling around his eye.

“Just wait until your father sees this—you know how he feels about fighting.”

He snorted an angry breath, but knew better than to say anything. He’d heard some variation of this lecture a thousand times before. Instead, he just fumed as she continued her long diatribe. Don’t get into fights, Draike. Watch your temper, Draike. Stop picking on your sister, Draike. He was always doing something wrong, and the underlying cause almost always seemed to be the same.

Her.

His annoying little sister.

Because he thought it was hilarious to tug on her pigtails, causing her cheeks to puff up with indignation and turn the most hilarious shade of red. Or because she caught him breaking one of the house rules and found the nearest adult to tattle to. Or simply because he said something to her that made her cry (such as making fun of when she’d loudly proclaim her status as a Jedi).

“Why did you feel the need to punch Drice Hawkens?” Vainas asked. “Aren’t you two friends?”

Friend was a funny word with Draike. Having friends from his community on Dantooine proved to be a double-edged sword for him. It was nice that he could share in the everyday lives of his peers, and it was fun to be in a position of authority with a bunch of boys his age in a society where he had to take orders from adults most of the time. But there were always going to be some people in any group with whom he wouldn’t want to associate if given the choice. In a small community, you couldn’t be choosy about who you hung out with unless you wanted to spend all of your time bored out of your mind because there was no one else to socialize with. He didn’t mind being the center of attention, whether it was through accepting crazy dares, telling stupid jokes, or finding any other means he could think of to break up the monotony.

He’d have to chase off his “little shadow,” as he called her, about half the time he was with them. He didn’t need her ratting out what he and his pals did to break the boredom and pass the time. Even worse, if some of his antics inspired her, she might try to imitate him and end up hurting herself. That would land him in a world of trouble, more than anything he or his friends would get up to. So maybe he didn’t always do it in the nicest way, and maybe he felt a twinge of guilt when Grey’s face fell when she was told to leave. But it was for her own good.

Draike hadn’t noticed her stalking their small group today. She appeared to be becoming sneakier with each passing day. She seemed to know exactly when he’d look back over his shoulder and melt into the shadows before he could see her. Drice had spotted her just as they were about to climb the fence into the shipyard and had whirled on the little girl, calling her an annoying tag-a-long among other choice words.

A peculiar sensation rose up in him, something he had never felt before. Something hot, molten, and blinding. He’d seen her face fall a thousand times before, those big blue eyes welling up and watering. And the sight had inspired nothing other than annoyance, but the moment those tears spilled down her cheeks at Drice’s words, that odd feeling took over. He was jumping off from the fence he had been attempting to scale and was shoving the other boy away with some choice words of his own. Things had kind of escalated from there.

Draike’s mother’s patience seemed to wear thin as the silence continued, so he finally offered the only explanation he could think of: “I’m not friends with jerks.”

Except he hadn’t said “jerks”.

His mother’s brow furrowed with suspicion and condemnation. She had the uncanny ability to tell when he was lying, in the same way his younger sister could shadow his every move. He could see twin blonde pigtails peeking out from behind the door as his mother dabbed more kolto on the cut above his eye, a guilty expression on her little freckled face.

“Draike...” His mother drawled his name out in her most disapproving tone.

Under her astute gaze, he shifted, suddenly uneasy in his own skin. Despite her stern demeanor, the penetrating gaze had a gentleness to it. She’d always had that effect on him, as if she could see right through his bluster and every wall he tried to build. It was almost as if she could see right into his soul.

After dinner, he had been sent to his room to think about what he’d done. Draike stared at the ceiling, contemplating his life and how things could have gotten so out of hand when he actually tried to do the right thing for once. His door creaked open and bare feet padded across the floor. He looked up to see his sister sneaking in with a plate, which she placed on his nightstand. With a start, he realized it was her portion of dessert — her favorite — and she had brought it for him.

His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist as she tried to sneak back out of the room without saying anything. She came to a halt and turned to him with a cautious, inquisitive look. He said nothing and simply broke it in half, offering her the larger piece. The tentative smile she offered him almost made up for the black eye and lecture.

Draike blinked back to the present, surprised at how far his mind had wandered. He hadn’t meant for it to. It was just one of those things that happened now and then when he let his thoughts wander.

He and Grey had never spoken of the incident again, and Draike would have rather been tortured than admit it aloud... but it was one of his favorite childhood memories. The quiet, companionable silence of two siblings defying authority and, for once, enjoying each other’s company.

Theron lifted an eyebrow to Draike. “So the reason you got thrown out was—”

“No reason,” Draike snapped.

Their argument was cut short when the VIP Lounge’s burly bouncer forcibly escorted another person out of the establishment. The individual stumbled but turned around to glare at Draike, but the security guard shoved them in the opposite direction. Angry shouts echoed in his wake, but the only thing that could be made out in the drunken slurred speech was something distinctly foul and unsavory about the Alliance — or, more specifically, its commander — and Theron’s face twisted into a scowl, as if he was ready to finish what Draike had started.

Finally, Theron glanced at his brother-in-law, who was stiffening in his seat. “So, you got thrown out... for no apparent reason?”

“Some people just deserve a good punching,” Draike shrugged nonchalantly.

Theron’s hard stare softened as he motioned to the bartender for the smuggler’s next drink. It was a double of the most expensive thing on the menu, because why waste generosity? Miraculously, Theron said no more, just raised a glass in salute to their mutual understanding and common ground.

No talked shit about Draike Highwind’s little sister.

...except maybe Draike himself.

[box4brains]

Head cannon time!

Cid Highwind (Final Fantasy 7):

Cid is an AMAZING chef, he hates to cook though, since he’s way too demanding that things turn out just as he wants it to (building aircraft’s and space rockets are too much of an exact science for him to enjoy cooking). As a result he’ll swear up a storm and more likely than not be in a foul mood for hours afterwards, even if it turned out to be delicious enough to be served in a 5 star restaurant. That’s why he rarely cooks, he also lacks standards for others food, he won’t care that someone’s cooking tastes like burnt cardboard and he could easily create something delicious with a handful of ingredients… any food he doesn’t have to make is good food! He will give people crap for making the same (big) mistake over and over again though, but it’s more a distaste for people who don’t learn from their own mistakes than anything about the food.

Aerith (what’s her last name?):

Aerith was never romantically interested in Cloud, any pull or interest she originally felt towards him were purely there because of the Zack in Cloud. The love they hold for each other is real, though, but it’s more like the love between siblings or really close friends and it isn’t romantic in the least.

Tifa Lockhart:

Tifa has always liked Cloud, maybe it’s the nurturer in her, but she’s always wanted to reach out to the lonely, awkward boy from her hometown… sadly all the baggage between them and the guilt Cloud carries with him pretty much guarantees that they’ll never end up in a romantic relationship, although on a good day you could probably describe their relationship as a non-physical marriage. Had Cloud never left Nibelheim they would have gotten married. They also would have gotten killed by Sephiroth when the incident happened.

Cloud Strife:

Cloud is polly, he’s also not someone who falls in love easily but confidence and kindness are traits he’s weak for. I don’t know if I can explain how I hc his sexuality properly, it’s not really straight, in the sense that he’s not really interested in girls as a concept, but has interest for girls in a “that girl” way. He could also swing the other way, should he find a guy and develop romantic feelings for him. But that’s a big if, seeing how Cloud doesn’t really fall easily, Tifa and Aerith are the only ones he’s ever really had feelings for in that way, and even then, the fact he and Zack kinda got scrambled for a while makes wether Cloud actually liked Aerith “like that” questionable at best. Cloud will also turn into a total himbo when hit on, if he catches it, he won’t know what to do or how to react and awkwardly trying to pretend it never happened

Barret Wallace (that’s his last name, right?):

Barret will forget that Marlene isn’t his biological child 2-3 times a day… he has no problem with this but sometimes feel a little bad about it.

For some reason, playing ff7r has made me wanna hc Biggs as trans

Vincent Valentine:

Vincent is often seen as aloof and mysterious. Unbeknown to most people, he’s mostly just behaving like he usually acted while he was mortal. But while his mortal self acted aloof and mysterious due to having nearly crippling social anxiety, his current self does it because he doesn’t want people to get close and he doesn’t really feel a need for social interactions. He sees no need to try and change his personality, and in fact takes comfort in finding things in himself that isn’t changed (something Hojo couldn’t change, something the experiments hadn’t touched)

Yuffie (name??):

The reason Yufie turned into a kleptomaniac is because she had no other way to survive, and in fact almost died several times over before she got good at it. Now she steals stuff without even knowing it herself, sometimes. She usually just laughs it off if confronted about it, but only because she doesn’t want to dwell on it.

Reeve (T-something??):

Reeve has a minor split personality disorder, he handles them by building tiny robots and giving them the “other” personality. Thusly he sees them as himself, and sometimes forget who’s who. (By that I mean he forgets that his body isn’t a machine).

Sephiroth:

I have a bunch of hc for Sephiroth. My favorite is probably the one where he actively wants Cloud to kill him… he practically grooms him during the game. Another fun one is projection, as in, he likes to call cloud a puppet, because he’s a puppet to jenova.

Jenova/the calamity:

My favorite hc about jenova is that it’s male. And if you want to cry “but tits!” I want to remind you, jenova isn’t human, and, jenova knows how to shape-shift.

[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”

[vinnie2757]

86. Seeing Red

from this post, a warm up, 1455 words 

It isn’t that Cid is a jealous man. He’s an only child, raised for the most part with no father, and his mother doing her best when she herself was not quite ready to be responsible for another living being. No, no, this is unfair to her. Catherine had done her best, and her best had been plenty good enough, but she had been a fool to marry his father, and she had endured a lot by his hand, and his mouth, and the foolishness drummed into his head by a century or more of Highwind breeding. As a child, Cid had wanted for nothing, and had cared little for the things, material or otherwise, of others. Love of a father? No need to be jealous of that when he bore the scars of his father’s cane on the back of his thighs. Friends? Siblings? As if he could bring himself to care about that! He had the run of the house, and his mother’s love and support, and then he had the planes, and the respect of everyone not otherwise occupied with hating the air force, and then! Then he had the rockets!

So no, he isn’t a jealous man. He had all he needed as a child, and then as an adult, he had found his way, his path, his little niche corner with those he cared about.

So why, why, fucking why, does it boil his blood like his heart is the hottest kettle to see Shera laughing at Isak’s jokes? Why does it make his knuckles ache to see her touch his hand when he brings her fresh tea? Why does his stomach churn when she brushes her hair from her eyes and looks at her toes and blushes and smiles and just – just – why the fuck should he be jealous that she’s looking at another man that way? It’s not like he wants her fucking attention anyway! Women are – and Shera especially! – are silly, and prone to emotion, and full of – of – they have all these notions, and these thoughts, and these feelings, and fucking hell, he just wants to be left alone and not nagged about his diet, or his smoking, or the new bruises on his knuckles and under his eyes from the sleep he’s losing tossing and turning thinking about Shera running off with the fucking moron!

Because he is! Isak is a fucking moron! He’s a pretty face, and a Upper Midgar accent so he sounds all smart and refined and shit, like he’s a man of breeding when the calluses on his palms tell you exactly what kind of kid he is! Couldn’t get his grades in the Academy so he flunked out and worked manual labour until somehow he found himself competent enough to be passed along the chain of command into the Space Program, and now he’s here, making moves on Shera like he has any right!

Shera still sits opposite Cid at dinner, but Isak sits to her left most nights, and because Shera uses her fork in her right hand, it means that there is free space between them. He’s always got some quip to draw her attention, to make her look at him, all bright eyes and pleasant smile, and it reaches her eyes, and Cid can see, sitting across from her, that it reaches her eyes. She’s genuinely happy with the attentions this little fucker is paying her!

It’s enough to make him sick.

He has no right to be jealous, no reason to! There’s no need for him to care what Shera does; as long as she comes to the rocket every day and does her job, her – her – private life is her business! He doesn’t care! He doesn’t!

‘Cid?’ Reine asks, and he flinches, which just makes her eyebrows climb higher on her forehead.

Cid Highwind does not flinch. She’s managed to sneak up behind him and get a tickle to his ribs in, managed to catch him asleep, managed to leap out at him from behind corners and doors, and the man just sighs, like she’s a huge disappointment. But flinch? She’s never seen it happen, and that he flinches now is almost a cause for concern.

‘Are you alright?’ she asks, and her knuckles come to rest on his forehead, checking his skin for any trace of a fever.

With a sharper gesture than he means, he swats her hand away, and scowls at her, shoves his chair away from the table to get up.

‘I’m fine,’ he barks, and she gives him an incredulous look, laced through with a small but stout measure of disgust, because his attitude stinks, and he knows it.

Softer, he says, ‘I just need some air.’

He can feel Shera’s eyes on his back, but she doesn’t leave the table, Isak’s voice, all honey-smooth and ocean-deep, wafting after him.

For several minutes, he stands under the eaves, staring at the shadow of the sign swinging in the breeze. Back and forth, back and forth. His foot taps on the boards of the porch and he smokes through his first cigarette in only a few drags, stamping it out before lighting another. The banter inside continues, laughter and exclamations and oohs and ahhs and he’s – he feels – he could just go to bed. Nobody would fucking notice.

The door clicks and footsteps, quiet, soft. Reine, because of course it’s Reine.

‘You’re not alright.’

He curls his lip, jaw jutting, and he stares at his cigarette.

‘No,’ he agrees eventually.

She waits him out, because Reine always waits him out.

‘I just,’ he bursts out, hands flapping and then fists clenching in the air, shaking as he forces himself to take a deep breath, fingers splaying as he lowers his hands, as if trying to bat down the ocean.

An apt metaphor, he’d think, if he were prone to any sort of sensible, educated thought, for his mother had done away with any attempt at giving him an understanding of literature and poetic devices as soon as it became clear he would have the handwriting of a fool for the rest of his life. No love letters would be penned by his hand, that was sure. Fucking fine by him!

‘You just?’ Reine echoes, when he doesn’t continue.

He licks his lips, takes a drag of his cigarette. On the exhale, he says, ‘whenever I see him, I see red. I just – I just want to smash his fucking teeth out.’

Reine gawks at him for a moment, mouth open and eyebrows knotted, and then she laughs once, little more than a wheeze of breath.

‘Cid, I – you.’ She stops trying to make a sentence, presses a fingertip hard to her lips, and breathes hard through her nose.

‘Don’t even fucking breathe it,’ he grunts, and she hums.

‘I wasn’t going to say it,’ she says, and the innocent expression on her face makes him want to backflip off a cliff. ‘I was just going to say that you maybe need to – you know – speak to her.’

He scrubs his face with his free hand, and exhales hard.

‘No,’ he says, ‘no, that is not what I need to do, and you can fuck right off.’

She stays, gaze level, challenging without being confrontational, and he licks his lips again, wants desperately to – to – go back in there and smash Isak’s teeth out, to be brutally fucking honest! But instead, he draws another breath, throws his half-smoked cigarette onto the path, and throws his hands in the air.

‘Fuck it!’ he exclaims. ‘Fuck it! I’m going to bed!’

Reine watches him stomp down the path, and then calls after him.

‘I’ll tell her if you don’t!’

He’s not moving fast enough to skid to a halt, but his entire body locks, and she can see the tightness in his shoulders from here.

‘Fuck off, Reine!’ he shouts back to her, like the spoilt teenager he’d been, arguing with his mother in the middle of the snow, demanding the freedom to be his own man, when he was barely able to dress himself, never mind decide his fate. ‘You don’t know what to tell her!’

‘I know to tell her you love her!’ she calls, smug as a cat, and the curse that comes barrelling out of his chest is not the nicest one he could have used.

‘Just fuck off!’ he yells, and carries on his stomping, because he knows she won’t tell Shera jack shit, same as he won’t tell Shera jack shit.

He’ll just. Sit there seething and seeing red every time Isak’s in his line of sight, and that’ll be that.

He’ll grow up eventually.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Summary: For @bluerosesburnblue, since she was having a hard time lately and loves sibling relationships. Some Nox Fleuret siblings bonding that we should have had:)

I Love You, I Want You to Know Ravus’ PoV As Ravus and Lunafreya did something different for a change, in having breakfast in Tenebrae’s go-to outdoor café, he couldn’t help noticing that she was eating those high-calorie cakes again and Ravus couldn't have been happier for this: Lunafreya deserved this little bit of happiness in her life, since she denied herself so much. And though Ravus did think she'd lost herself some, since becoming Oracle, perhaps this was a hint that pieces of her old personality were still there somewhere. ...Though Ravus and Lunafreya had been fighting a lot lately--and he'd never understand how she couldn't take his side on the issues of Lucis and the "King of Kings"--they were having a nice time now; and it was actually Lunafreya had invited him here, since she still had some short time before her Oracle duties and he wasn’t due to train his troops for a while, either. "Sister," Ravus chuckled at the expense of the sibling who had always meant so much to him, "Why do you like these cakes so much? Is it the flavor, or the color... or-" In some ways, Ravus thought it was ludicrous to assume that his baby sister would like a certain food, just by the look of it. But one ate with their eyes first, did they not? And surprisingly enough, his guess ended up being true! "I love the red of the strawberries," Lunafreya said around a mouthful of said fruit. "In Tenebrae, we mostly have sylleblossoms. It's true. But every now and then we get lovely red carnations. This reminds me of that." "You always have loved your flowers," Ravus mumbled absentmindedly. Their late mother had been the same, and it made him love Lunafreya all the more for it. "But I find the real question, is why do you love this chocolate dessert as much as I do, brother?" Lunafreya asked cheekily, to which Ravus could only blush and stammer. Should he tell her he was playing the part of the typical girl here, and just loved chocolate? But before Ravus could think what to answer, Lunafreya was already coming up with one for him. "Is it because you do see Prince Noctis as a friend, and thus love our country’s signature tart because he does?" And there was the topic that always pulled the siblings away from each other… That selfish "Chosen King" who would have his sister sacrifice herself for him just to show him the way! How Ravus wished he could set him on fire… Lunafreya was teasing her, because of course she was, but Ravus had to know what had ever possessed her to joke about this. But then again… Ravus thought maybe he ought to keep his temper. Because Lunafreya actually being brave enough to talk to him about the “love of hers”, that she knew he despised, must have said she was starting to trust him again. But he did take an angry swig of his tea, and somewhat slammed the cup down back onto its saucer before deciding to dignify that with a response. "Lunafreya, are you blind? I am not talking of the Memory Lane Pastry... that that prince apparently loves so much, but rather of chocolate cake here. Sometimes the simplest things, with just a bit of fruit added on top for flavor, are the best." And since before Tenebrae had become annexed by the Empire, the siblings had spent quite a bit of time cooking with their mother—and were somewhat experts—Lunafreya seemingly giggled, in knowing how this should have been untrue for their palettes, but somehow wasn’t for Ravus. Sensing that the conversation had gone into a good place again, Ravus decided to keep it up: as the waitress deigned to bring the two their breakfasts (ever since Lunafreya had ascended as Oracle, they had their dessert first)."...So, Lunafreya," Ravus began, as he dug into his scrambled eggs with ketchup while his his sister ate toast with melted peanut butter on top of it. "Just- just for fun, I swear. I'm not harping on your career choice today... but if you could be anything other than the Oracle, what would it be?" Lunafreya had a certain look in her eyes as Ravus said this, that he couldn't quite figure out. She also seemed to be contemplating putting butter on her toast as well, as a single serving of it shook within her hand? But finally, she said--even blushing some while she spoke--"A model, of course. Can't you tell by all the fancy clothes I buy--one of the only luxuries that I allow myself--that I love fashion? And, no: when the media just happens to get a bad picture of me and they post it in a magazine because they like my makeup, or whatever... that doesn't count." Ravus winced at the last, because while he'd always think his sister was beautiful, he had seen some of those images himself and she did always seem awkward in them. "What about you, brother?" Lunafreya questioned with a kind smile on her face, as she reached over and cut a piece of Ravus’ eggs that would have been too big for him to chew. Ravus instantly thanked her for that, because he actually hadn't seen it and probably would have choked without his sister's healing assistance... so perhaps she really was meant to be the Oracle, after all. "...My answer’s… not as exciting as yours, Lunafreya: it's not much different than what I do now: but I would have liked to be a fencer. Doing swordplay, while not having to kill for Niflheim, would have been a dream." Ravus had actually thought Lunafreya would laugh at him for the admission, but she seemed to be in awe more than anything else. Perhaps she was imagining him in fencer’s gear and going to his matches to cheer him on after school: it was the life they should have had. But her fascination was over quickly, and Ravus noticed at once when his sister got a mischievous glint in her eyes. She seemed to want to reach across the table and take his hand in hers, like they were gossiping girl friends, but in the end she did not. And Ravus did not know if he was relieved for this or sad. "I suppose it's not overtly exciting, Ravus. But you know what is? The feelings I know that Miss Highwind has for you! And every day she's becoming more and more fed up with the Empire! You should pursue her!" ...Ravus didn't know what it was in the coding for siblings, that the thought of Noctis at all touching his little sister made him want to destroy the world, but meanwhile, she enjoyed speculating about his live life... but it was certainly something that was there. And something that was annoying. "I swear she doesn't have feelings for me, Lunafreya! Please drop it!" And Ravus said this not because he doubted that Lunafreya was wrong about the woman... but because he was gay--something that no one else knew--and the idea of him with a girl made him very uncomfortable. And there must have been something in his angry outburst, because Lunafreya gasped loudly and put a hand over her mouth as she looked at Ravus in shock. "Oh, Ravus! I'm so sorry that I didn't know until now. I'm so sorry!" There was a ridiculous inner part of Ravus—that must have been a little girl--that wanted to cry for the situation now, but he did not… For it actually felt somewhat… good to get this all out in the open. And while there were people now eavesdropping on this conversation between the Niflheim army commander and the Oracle, he found that he couldn't have cared less. "This whole breakfast, you've been trying to reach out to me, Ravus, when I should have been doing so to you for so long." Ravus started to hold his hand up to let Lunafreya know that what she was saying was ludicrous, and that of course he--the older brother—should be the one focusing on the little sibling. But he felt himself holding back... Truthfully, it did feel good to feel cared about by Lunafreya again. He smiled at her, as he evilly stole a piece of her own dessert now. Things between them weren't perfect: someone soon noticed that the Oracle was at a table near them, and came to her in begging for healing—which of course Lunafreya gave. And so with that, Ravus was again reminded of how he hated her Calling, and the knowledge that she'd always put that before everything else. But today, he felt more hope between them than he had in a long time... so perhaps it was a sign of good things to come. And after Ravus eventually chose to stand by this… this Chosen King—all because the kid had finally manned up when the butler that he didn't deserve, went and tried to kill the Chancellor after he'd kidnapper him—Ravus realized he had been right to believe all those years ago. Noctis had somehow found a way to bring their Lunafreya—no, Luna—back, and now she was running into Ravus’ arms: the promise of the future for them finally in sight.

[triggerxhappy]

GENERAL.

full name.  Prompto Argentum pronunciation. x nicknames.  Prom, Shortcake (by Aranea), Blondie (by Noctis) height. 173 cm | 5.8 ft age. 20 | 30 (verse dependent) zodiac. Scorpio languages. English, Lucian

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour.  blonde eye colour. blue skin tone.  pale with reckles body type. slim but athletic accent.  Doesn’t really have one, but American English one I guess :P dominant hand.  right. posture.  It kept changing because he moves all the time :P scars. A few ones he got during the years of darkness, in which he kept slaying daemon.s tattoos.  A barcode he hated on his wrist.  most noticeable features.  Probably his chocobo hair :P

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth.  Niflheim hometown.   Insomnia birth weight / height.  n/a manner of birth.  he was created by Verstael Besithia, a scientist of Niflheim Empire first words.  Dad siblings.  None parents. Verstael Vesithia (biological father), Mr. and Mrs. Argentum (adoptive parents) parental involvement.  None for now :P

ADULT LIFE

occupation.  Retainer of prince Noctis, member of the Crownsguard, daemon slayer current residence. Insomnia /  Lestallum / Hammerhead (he moves a lot during the years of darkness) close friends. Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia, Aranea Highwind, Iris Amicitia, Cindy Aurum.  relationship status. Verse dependent financial status.  Alright. driver’s license. yes, even if his friends don’t want him to drive. criminal record.  Nothing!

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation.  demisexual romantic orientation. heteroromantic preferred emotional role.  submissive | dominant | switch  |  unsure preferred sexual role.  submissive  |  dominant  |  switch |  sex repulsed libido. Medium turn on’s. Neck kisses and love bites turn off’s. Anything with no respect in it. love language. Takes many pictures and offers some, is even more touchy than with other people; is a huge cuddler. relationship tendencies.  He has a lot of crushes, but he doesn’t fall in love easily. He takes relationships really seriously so it would take him time to acknowledge his feelings, and even more to act them. 

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. Prompto’s Theme - Home Sweet Home hobbies to pass the time. Photography and photo editing, infography, video games mental illnesses. PTSD physical illnesses.  None left or right brained. right. fears. Not being good enough and losing people he loves. self confidence level.  too low. vulnerabilities. His love for people around him and his lack of self-confidence. 

tagged by: @cielcrd, thank you :D

tagging: YOU ;D

[jazzraft]

Be Nice

Rating General Audiences Words 740 Part 4/7 Characters Ravus, Luna, Iris, Gladio Summary The welcoming committee of Insomnia isn’t quite how Ravus imagined. In that, by some miracle, he can appreciate one’s devotion to his sister... barely.

day four of @ravus-week for the “devotion” prompt. didn’t quite come across the way I wanted it to, but hopefully there’s enough mutual sibling love in there to get the point of the prompt across ^^;

“Have fun storming the castle!” Aranea had said, waving in a stilted mockery of the first secretary of Accordo (Ravus made a mental note to have her put on a no-fly list on any diplomatic missions to Altissia).

Yes, Highwind was still casting her barbed shadow throughout all the nooks and crannies of Tenebrae. Like a tumor, she seemed to have rooted herself to the spot, spreading her mischief like an infection now that it was left unchecked by the Empire’s contract. Ravus held no small amount of reservations about leaving Tenebrae while Aranea Highwind remained in residence. He held no small amount of reservations about leaving Tenebrae, period. Let alone without at least one Fleuret fortifying the manor from deception.

But, as he’d both feared and hoped, with peace now the law of the land came the chaos of making sure it stayed that way. That chaos came for him now, with the high beams of Insomnia’s obscene steel and glass skyline rising up to meet them.

The visit was inevitable, he’d always known this – whether he’d known it’d be under honest circumstances or duplicitous ones, Insomnia had always been in his future in some way or another. It was a bitter pill to swallow, having to keep his fists hidden and his sword sheathed in the very city King Regis had betrayed Ravus’s whole country for.

But Luna was ecstatic to see the city glinting in the sunrise as their ship approached. Even more to be greeted by the King’s favorite war-dogs when they landed on the strip. She failed to see the mistrust that Ravus did. That by sending the King’s Shield and his rabid pups to meet them, he was warning them of what may befall them should their visit to Insomnia go anything worse than perfect.

Luna didn’t see the claws in Iris Amicitia’s nails as they shook hands and made their introductions. She didn’t see the bared teeth in Gladiolus Amicitia’s grin as they were “welcomed” to the Crown City.

“Hope you came prepared to eat!” Iris was saying, holding Luna’s hand as if they were best friends within two minutes of meeting each other. “Cook rolled out the breakfast buffet to end all breakfast buffets back at our house.”

Ravus was ready to follow with a warning in Luna’s ear that it was likely poison, but his sister was spirited off behind the sudden obstruction of the elder Amicitia’s shoulders in Ravus’s way. Ah. Right. The cliché display of the macho Lucian’s dominance. What a charming country to have lost his own for.

“First time in Lucis, right?” Gladiolus said, eyes sharp as splinters of amber.

Must he really indulge this charade of amicable antagonizing? “Correct,” Ravus bit out, not in the least bit unnerved by the width of the man’s shoulders or the scar on his square face. “First time practicing your welcoming speech?”

“Incorrect,” he countered, the gruff mockery reminding him of Aranea’s teasing.

Ravus challenged his glare for as long as the sting of not blinking would allow, the voices of their sisters growing smaller and smaller across the tarmac. Finally, though still not blinking, Gladiolus said, “You’ll be meeting with the royal family later today. Consider my family practice for when you do.”

“Treat my family with the dignity she deserves, and perhaps, I’ll consider doing the same to yours.”

Hah! Gladiolus blinked at that. His sister was a soft spot, of course she was, Ravus was all too familiar with the feeling. He was wholly devoted the peace accords if only for Luna’s sake. And he was wholly devoted to ensuring good relations between Tenebrae and Insomnia for the sake of her happiness as well. It would be like swallowing bile, no doubt about that, looking at the King on his pedestal, listening to him talk, knowing how completely unaffected by the war he was behind his Wall.

But he knew it would make Luna smile if Ravus was – he shuddered – nice to the King and his brat. By the look in Amicitia’s eye, conceding to the distant sound of his own sister’s laughter, his devotion wasn’t at all dissimilar to his own.

“Hope you like pancakes,” he said, sweeping an arm in the direction of their siblings to follow.

Hope you choke on them.

Given the fact that he didn’t say it out loud, Ravus thought that was progress. Hopefully, Luna would see it that way, too.

[chalabrun]

an empire for two, ch. 1

Word Count: 4,036 Pairing: Ravus/Noctis, Weskham/Regis Rating: M Warnings: Abuse mentions, gore Summary: Based on The Shape of Water AU conceived with @soulmarshal, when Noctis was a child had the invasion on Tenebrae seen him taken as a prisoner of war and test subject of the Niflheim Empire, living a miserable life until the day his life changes forever--with a meeting predestined by the divine. With the growing tensions of a Cold War between Lucis and Niflheim, amid it all does a most unexpected romance flourish between a caged prince and a being robbed of his freedom.

                                              (READ ON AO3)

They say that dying was like walking down a light tunnel, and that dreams were death’s sibling. That the world fell away from behind, and oblivion came rushing to meet it next. That it would be weightless, cloudy. Like wandering through a dreamscape submerged underwater. Scaly light filtered from above; air was needless, all was weightless and misty blue. Those were easier dreams. Nights where he could actually find himself asleep and not consumed in the perspiring vestiges of a nightmare.

When Noctis awoke, that heaviness returned again. Bleary blue eyes blinked away the thick coils of sleep, a nightstick clanging on the secondary barred door that entered his room. It was time for another round of experimentation, he remembered with dread. It was loud, incessant from a warden working for hours too long and wanting nothing more than to finally have his break. Noctis called that he was awake. It stopped.

The cloister cell was small. No larger than a Chocobo stable with spartan furnishings, a thin mattress with thin sheets and ragged, patchwork comforter were strewn aside as the young man arose for the day. A single square cut above his head let in light, but it wasn’t from the outside. Still barred, still a cage. On the grated iron floor did he turn the rusted handles to the rusted faucet before the cloudy mirror on the gristly, old porcelain sink and began washing his face, brushing his teeth; showers didn’t come until evening.

A small cabinet above the rickety toilet was where a few pairs of mottled slacks and shirts wait, pulling on the garments with stiff limbs still creaky from his poor, damply chilly night’s sleep. It was always difficult trying to stand still, his lame leg making him wobble, having to lean on a sheet of metal that encompassed his room or sit on the bed for support. Sometimes, he knocked some books off the few shelves above his bed.

It couldn’t be helped, he’d learned a long time ago.

After slipping into a pair worn loafers, he knocked on the door, soul still so, so exhausted.

Though, his face lightened when he saw who waited for him.

“Awake now, little prince?” Weskham couldn’t help but greet him warmly, touching Noctis’ shoulder and guiding him through before dropping the contact and letting him walk alongside.

“You say that like it’s morning. Isn’t it around 1 AM or something?” Noctis replied with half a smirk, even if the mirth wasn’t quite there. It never seemed to surpass the watery blue of his eyes.

Weskham chuckled at that. “No, I suppose not.”

This was the lightest hour of Noctis’ days. When he and Weskham would walk from the cell block and towards the enormous atrium that served like a nexus to the rest of the lab. It always seemed so grim and dark, but he supposed that’s how it would always be.

“...Did you dream about him? You know, of the guy back in Insomnia?”

Weskham seemed to grow distant, lips thinning as his stare became faraway. He nodded, but then abruptly changed the subject. “Noctis, wait here. It seems we’ve forgotten your cane,” the older man averted before striding back towards his room, leaving a bemused Noctis in his wake.

Leaning against the wall and watching as people in white lab coats milled busily by, an unremarkable wallflower until a tapping of his shoulder caught his attention. “Oh, uh, hey Aranea,” he greeted with a sheepish smile, not having seen the dragoon approach.

“You alright over there, kid? Kinda look like a fish outta water,” the woman said with a cocked hip, a vague look of concern in her gaze.

Noctis chuffed. “Yeah, fine. Just waiting for Weskham to get my cane. Unless you needed something, Commodore?” The title was playfully tacked on, his smirk spanning at the older woman’s eye roll and her poorly suppressed smile.

“Way to make a lady feel old, kiddo. What’s next? You gonna help me cross the street?” Aranea folded her arms beneath her bosom, quirking a brow. Though, her jocularity seemed to evaporate when, across the atrium, they both perked to sight of men in hazmat suits tromping loudly through that caused many people to skitter from their path. Noctis pushed off the wall, expression disbelieving when he saw a watery veneer of inky substances left in their wake. A security guard ordered for every one to stand back, informing them that this substance was hazardous. As the man spoke, the tar oxidized and corrosively ate through the tile floors, acrid smoke fumigating as a fire alarm sounded and a thin spray of water showered them from above, Aranea hissing as she guided Noctis away from the worst of it.

“Goodness, what happened over here?” Weskham puffed after they found a corridor away from the cascades, the atrium appearing as though a storm system had manifested inside. He passed Noctis’ cane on to him, and the young man took it gratefully.

“Beats me, Wesky. All I know is Izunia looked a little too slap happy the other day. Wonder if this doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Aranea chuffed, hissing at the moisture clinging to her hair and armor. “Dammit!”

“I don’t like the looks of it. Stuff like that doesn’t belong around people. Whatever they’re doing, it can’t be good,” Weskham said lowly, glancing towards the atrium again before taking his place at Noctis’ side, the air of expectancy palpable. “It was good seeing you again Miss Highwind.”

“Just call me Aranea, sheesh. Ugh, I’m gonna kill the guy who thought a hair-trigger sprinkler system was such a hot idea. Got a long shift today, too. Dammit,” she groused while wringing the individually bound tassels of her ponytail, flicking away the excess with her wrists.

“Yeah, be seeing you, Ara,” Noctis said lamely while Weskham ushered him on, appearing flummoxed. Just what was that stuff, and what was Chancellor Izunia planning? Whatever it was didn’t bode well. And as far as he knew, the noxious tar smelled deathly. Like something hell itself had spat out.

Regardless of how his day began, this was always the worst part. Zegnautus’ domestic pharmaceutical division didn’t rely on volunteers for testing. Even though they only tested pediatric drugs on him, the symptoms weren’t always pretty. Sometimes, it was the flu. Other times, it was pain so debilitating he couldn’t walk. As of that day, he was in the second week of trying out a new antidepressant, and he was a week in. Good thing he actually had depression, otherwise he wasn’t certain what the outcome would be.

“Five minutes late. Might I ask what the big hold-up was, Noctis?” Dr. Sania Yeagre questioned once they arrived at the lab, busily scanning a clipboard with several shiefs of paper flipped over before they furled back in unison once he was inside. “Thanks for bringing him, Weskham, but I sure hope your usual small talk wasn’t dragged out this time.”

“Oh, sorry about that, Dr. Yeagre. Something happened in the atrium.” Noctis rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“Something happened?” Sania echoed with a shot-up gaze, a frown dipping on her coppery features. She set the clipboard down and skirted around the table she was at burdened by scientific paraphernalia.

“Yeah, word from the Commodore is that the Chancellor has some new pet project going on,” Weskham answered with folded arms, suspicion creasing his features. “Something leaked from the hazmat suits and ate through the concrete. Triggered the smoke alarms and we got pelted.”

Sania’s brows furrowed, looking Noctis over. “Well, suppose that explains why you two look like something the cat dragged in.” Though, her frown deepened and she tsked loudly. “Dangerous substances strolled right through the main lobby like that? What on earth is the matter with them? If someone starts sprouting another head, I’m not taking responsibility. Must be those cocky guys down in the Bioweapons division.” The scientist snorted, appraising Noctis and handing him a towel from one of the cleaning stations.

As Noctis mussed his hair with the towel, he overheard Weskham laugh at how comical the display was before beckoning Sania to him. “Keep the dosages real low, like we said, alright? I don’t want him going through what he did before you came around,” he murmured to the doctor, Noctis’ pace with the towel slowing as he eavesdropped, face falling.

Before Sania had been reassigned as the scientist overseeing his tests, he remembered the sadistic Verstael who often abused and gave him the wrong dosages of toxic, untested medicines unfit for human testing. There were still scars from the rough treatment, all because of a spinal injury he’d sustained after a Maralith attack had left him with a permanent, sometimes difficult disability in his left leg. Those sites still smarted at the memory of it, Noctis swallowing thickly.

“You two take care now. Noctis, I’ll be back for you around 5, sound good? We’ll get breakfast together,” Weskham bid in farewell before he shut the door of the lab behind him. Noctis nodded his head in acknowledgment, but not much else.

Sania seemed to notice, gently removing the towel and nudging Noctis’ shoulder with her elbow as she draped it on the rim of a tub. “Part of your testing involves a psych eval. I certainly hope you’re willing to be honest with me, Noctis, but if it’s any reassurance, doctor-patient confidentiality is something I’ll honor on my Socratic oath.” Noctis flashed her a small smile, likely understanding where she was coming from.

Though Sania wasn’t a shrink, Noctis considered her a friend. Once inside her office, though small, the overstuffed chairs that occupied her desk and a place before it lowered his perpetually high defenses. With a closed door and low lighting, it felt comfortable. Old wooden shelving along the walls sagged beneath the weight of files and research papers, cabinets and drawers stuffed with miscellaneous objects while warm lighting and the retro screensaver on her computer complemented the air of fuzzy comfort.

Sania poured them both glasses of wine, a sight Noctis was grateful for. “Don’t worry about drinking it. It won’t interfere with the antidepressants at all; that is, unless you plan on operating heavy machinery,” she simpered while swirling the contents of her glass.

“Huh, there goes my plans to take one of the mechs on a joyride,” Noctis grinned before taking a few sips, already feeling a buzz. He settled himself into the chair opposite Sania’s, setting his cane against her desk. He suddenly became quiet, too quiet. She watched him, the air open, nursing her glass of wine.

“Few months it’s been, right? Since you replaced Verstael,” Noctis began quietly, bringing his good knee to his chest and gazing sidelong, like a forlorn child without his parents. He hid in his sleeves, Sania just barely able to see his eyes. “Still remember how he used to just...use a fucking cattle prod on me. Said the volts were never that high, but—I can’t begin to say what it’s like. Like being struck by lightning, I guess. Everything just...stops. And you freeze. It’s like—some flash storm. Like what you hear about in Niflheim, with those ice storms that—they freeze animals just...doing things. It’s like that.” Noctis raked his fingers through his hair, visibly uncomfortable and shifting unsteadily. Sania noticed the faint tremor on his skin, lips pulled into a frown.

“PTSD isn’t easy to get over, especially after what you’ve been through,” Sania noted, leaning back in her chair. She laughed dryly, the younger glancing up at her. “Growing up, I still remember the exact day my parents died. Out of all the happy memories from my childhood in Lestallum, it had to be that which stuck with me the most. You don’t think a silly road trip out to the Crow’s Nest would bring daemons on you, but it did. And how only the saving grace of a hunter let you live to tell the tale. Everything. All those little nuances you remember better than mom and pop’s faces.” She stared into her wine glass, Noctis able to see the sadness behind deep chestnut eyes that seemed so confident otherwise.

“...Do you think it defines us? What happens to us?” he broke through the pregnant pause, Sania flicking her gaze to his. Noctis had tucked his other knee in, chin propped on the kneecaps and face half buried behind folded arms. He looked as though lonely had a face.

“Guess it depends what sort of answer you want. Dry and scientific, or the sort that makes you feel a little less alone.” She took a generous swig of her wine, emptying the glass before pouring another. Propriety be damned. She wasn’t a damn therapist, even if being a shoulder to lean on for a friend wasn’t out of her reach.

Noctis suddenly started from his position, shocked to unfirl both legs as if someone had jarred him awake. “What is it?” Sania intoned, vague worry creeping in. The younger man leaned over to stare intensely into the wine, as if he were a psychic scrying for some obscure truth. Sania mirrored the motion, watching him intently.

A dull thunder sounded distantly, the wine rippling in Noctis’ glass.

Shooting up from his chair, Noctis winced and panted raggedly as he seized his cane, the sudden motion shooting pain up his spine. “Something’s wrong. Really wrong, Sania,” Noctis grunted as he stood up, only to be upset by a more powerful tremor that saw him thrown into one of the many shelves, the doctor yelping as papers scattered from her desk.

“Noctis! No—you don’t know what’s going on! It could just be construction!” Sania protested as inertia slammed the door open from another tremor, Noctis braced for it better this time despite being slammed into the shelves. When it seemed as though he wasn’t listening, she rushed to his side and huffed, “Young man, you don’t have the necessary security clearance to reach the levels this is taking place. You want to see what it is so badly? Tough luck. You’re not going anywhere without me.” She folded her arms, challenging him ribaldly.

Noctis smiled hopefully, knowing what she meant. “Hey, it’s for science, right? Could be some big discovery for all we know.”

“Damn rascal...” He certainly knew how to get her hooked.

“The power to the elevator’s been shut off,” Noctis noticed as he saw some researchers and other personnel frantically smash the buttons from afar, hopelessly watching and cursing the lack of its manifestation. “Think we might have to take the stairs.”

“Security’s probably watching them like hawks,” Sania surmised before spotting an unused stairwell gratefully unnoticed by those frantically trying to wheedle their way through the mouse trap Zegnautus had become. Taking Noctis by the hand, his cane clacked in time with their jouncy trot towards it, the woman hauling the door open while rushing Noctis inside before anyone could stop them. Another tremor quaked the building, Noctis flung into the railing while the door shut with finality behind them.

Blinking rapidly as he collected himself, wind nearly knocked from his lungs, Sania loomed near him. “You sure you’re okay enough to continue?”

Swallowing down the pain in his ribs, he gasped, “Yeah. Let’s just get going before this place falls apart on us.”

The headlong flight down the stairwell brought them down at least six levels before the epicenter was finally located, they nearly jarred against a wall that Noctis’ quick reflexes saved them from. Bum leg or no, it had taught him to be more mindful of his own sense of balance than the average person.

An ear-splitting roar caused them both to wince sharply, Noctis clapping a hand over his ringing ear. “Shit—what was that?” he questioned after it receded.

“The sound of bureaucracy, what else?” Sania replied sarcastically, all before she turned to Noctis seriously. “You do know this could get dangerous, right? And I don’t mean just you or I gatecrashing a top-secret experiment-level of seriousness, either.”

Noctis’ head bowed, and the lull of silence that came was uncanny. “Yeah, I do, it’s just—something’s suffering down here, Dr. Yeagre. Maybe even someone.” There it was. That forlorn look again. Stronger than trepidation or even fear. “I know what it’s like to be caged, treated like a guinea pig. Abused because you’re seen as less than human. I can’t just sit tight while it happens.”

She knew better than to think his sadness was directed at her. When you were all that stood between a sadistic child with a magnifying glass, the one beneath learned to be grateful. Which he had been, even if she wasn’t enough to free him entirely. “...Alright. Second it gets rough, we’re out of here. You hear me?”

Noctis nodded tightly at her, understanding.

Edging the door open, the sound was even more cacophonous. Ceiling tiles had caved in on themselves, debris scattered amid exposed wiring that crackled and popped, showering sparks. The metallic limbs of the superstructure disgorged in cascades like corrugated snares, threatening to gore anything that was unfortunate enough to cross through. Water mains had ruptured and water gushed into growing pools while its spray created an eerie, neon mist. There was a single hydraulic ingress that bared entry on its own, Sania exchanging looks with Noctis.

“Noctis, I don’t think we should be here,” she bewared at him, they barely having emerged from the stairwell. The aftershocks from the last tremor vibrated the walls and floors, water droplets leaping from the vibrato. “Noctis!”

“Sania, it…stopped,” the man said, somewhat bewildered even as he exited past the threshold and picked his way through the rubble. Clutching the cardkey Sania had loaned him, nervously did he stop before the erratically flickering key pad and swiped it through. Maybe it had malfunctioned somewhat, it flashing to green and blaring an alarm as the heavy aperture clicked and clanged through its elaborate mechanisms before sliding open just incrementally.

Sidling his slender body through, Noctis gulped when he saw the rampant destruction within, Sania’s worry for his person practically gnawing down his neck.

Machines were overturned or completely obliterated, the ceiling difficult to tear as it was solid stone, but claws rent virulently and still smoldering left deep welts in their recent wake. Debris scattered, sections of wall collapsed and crumbling, sparks crackling from machinery torn from their cords. Metal crushed, it was a minefield of exposed wires, enormous boulders and stones, motes of dust and ashes, and the alarms still ranging their light.

Sania’s words were recalled and Noctis turned towards the exit, flushed with panic before his foot caught on a raised bundle of wires and his cane clattered away into a dark corner. “Shit—“ he cursed under his breath, groaning as his impact was on a particularly harsh bed on stones and debris. Turning on his back carefully, he attempted to sit up but hissed when pain laced his spine.

It was only then he noticed the enormous in-ground pool that dominated much of the cavern, the yawning, vaulted ceilings dripping with stalactites while dark, fathomless water rippled, having been recently disturbed. When he saw bubbles pop the surface, an icy panic gripped him as he attempted to scramble to his feet, to just escape the room.

Crawling on his belly, he froze when the water was parted in a mighty heave, feeling a cool spray diffuse from this new entrance. A low, muttering rumble shook the air atmospherically, mightily—dangerously. A breath hitched in his throat as Noctis knew it was futile to hide, feeling their gaze dig graves into his back.

A towering being—maybe 9, 12 feet easily—loomed over him. Like a half moon was he cleaved by an inky, amethyst exoskeleton pronounced by an enormous, dragging claw on his left and a swerving horn jutting from his skull. It loitered over the groin like a wet suit, climbing half his chest and throat and part of his face like a mask. Where there was none, his muscular physique was ashen and exposed. Platinum locks poured over his face like rain, indistinct onyx eyes boring through his soul.

Staring hard, it was only then that Noctis locked gazes and, breath stertorous, found himself too paralyzed to move. Of both fear and the raw awesomeness of this being.

Finding enough strength to prop himself up and fold his good leg beneath him, hunkering by a machine to haul himself upright, Noctis inched himself upwards while the creature kept his gaze curiously upon him. “Who are you?” Noctis breathed, marveling at the sight of him. As though encouraged, the being emerged from the gentle incline of the pool, heedless of the debris and lumbered towards the small man.

Ravus.

Noctis startled when he heard the name clear as day in his mind, as if someone had whispered it. Returning his gaze to the being, Ravus extended the clawed appendage towards him, canting his head and crooning at Noctis. Lulled into a sense of security, the young man extended his own hand and touched only the tip of the longest claw. A fluttery disbelief arose alongside relief, though transient as it’d ultimately be.

Chaos erupted when MT’s flooded the vicinity, the emergency alarm sounding like an air raid siren resonating with a dizzying volume, disorienting Noctis who was helpless to watch as the MT’s shot grappling harpoons into the creature’s flank, through the fleshy areas as he caterwauled from the pain. Pistons flared as the being was dragged and wrestled to the ground, it happening so fast Noctis couldn’t muster even a voice to protest them.

“Noctis!” Sania shouted over the cacophony, dashing adroitly over obstacles and hauling Noctis to his feet, helping him limp as quickly as he could despite his refusals.

“Sania—we can’t! They’re hurting him!” he railed once they were safely outside, the chaos within emitting eerie strobe lights like it was some haunted house. “We’ve gotta get them to stop!”

“Noct— Noctis! Look at me!” Sania shouted, taking Noctis by his shoulders to face her and shaking him, only now noticing how distraught the scientist was. “You have no idea what that thing even was! How the hell do you know it wasn’t just sizing you up? Snakes do that!”

Shocked by her outburst, it was only then he realized the truth of her words, stunned into a brief silence. He’d...made her worry. All because of a reckless curiosity. Even if she’d helped somewhat, neither had expected the wreckage indicative of something as mightily powerful. Noctis bowed his head, eyes shuddering shut. “...I’m sorry,” he said in his smallest voice, Sania’s expression softening.

“The elevators are working again. We’re going back, I’ll patch you up, then keep you for observation. Until we know what this thing is and what toxicology effects it has, I’ll have to quarantine you.” Noctis nodded numbly and he sighed, saying nothing. “Look, I’m sorry, I know you’ve got a good heart—but that fact about you almost got you killed. I’m just glad the Chancellor was on call. He brought reinforcements right away.”

Herded into the elevator, Sania mashed their floor button and waited until the doors closed with a ping before heaving a sigh of relief.

“Wait—you mean the Chancellor’s in charge of this? I mean, I know he had some…pet project going on, but this?” Noctis asked, voice still stilted from the injuries that transpired. The hum of the ascending elevator was calming, somewhat.

Sania only folded her arms, shaking her head. “Later, Noctis. We’ve got a rough night ahead of us and I’d rather not burn both of us out.”

Noctis bit his lip, but acceded with a nod. He still had no idea what was going on, but—Ravus. His heart tugged to know more. Why he was here, and for what. The tortured screams twisted his stomach in knots, feeling himself blanch at a memory so fresh.

Something in him knew there would be no sleeping tonight.

[cha0ticmimzy]

Walk of Punishment

Day 2 of FFXV Rare Pairs Week

Prompt: Getting Married/Wounds&Blood

Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret/Aranea Highwind

Characters: Ravus Nox Fleuret, Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Ardyn Izunia, brief mentions of Nyx Ulric and Regis Lucis Caelum

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Blood, gore, detailed depictions of field-amputation, minor language

Word Count: 138

@ffxvrarepairsweek

Author’s Notes: I hate to admit that I loved writing this more than I probably should. Then again, I always do enjoy torturing any character that I get to write, and we never were told of how Ravus survived, or who saved him. Or what happened with his arm, for that matter. I tried to make this as shippy as possible, but that’s a little hard considering what I decided to write about. Also, yes, the title is a nod to Game of Thrones. And yes, there is another Game of Thrones mention in here, but it’s subtler. Just think of a certain pair of siblings, one of whom received a crown of gold. I know I’m late I’m sorry-

This wasn’t right. No, no this wasn’t right at all. He was supposed to have been chosen, he was the rightful king! Why would they deny him? He had the Oracle’s blood in him, for Etro’s sake! The colors shifted, and Ravus was thrust back into the world of the living- or, better yet, a world of chaos. Of chaos and blood.

His arm was burning.

The pain didn’t register for a moment as he watched the flesh of his left arm began to burn from the inside out. It was cold- it wasn’t hot, not like a normal fire should feel. It was freezing, and he jerked his arm up, forcing the ring away from his body. But that didn’t stop the burning; the flames were blue and black, his veins turning white beneath the skin as he watched in horror. And then, the pain came. Searing, blistering pain.

“Luna-Lunafreya, please! Help me!” He screamed out, watching through blurred vision as his beloved sister merely stood and watched before turning and leaving with King Regis and that damned Kingsglaive who ruined everything. Why Wouldn’t she come back? Why did she leave? Why? WHY?! “LUNA, PLEASE.”

“Stop screaming,” came a harsh whisper beside him, drawing his attention away from his sister to look up into emerald pools. Aranea. “By the Six, Ravus, you’re a fucking idiot. Sit STILL.” She yelled, her own eyes wide and troubled as she watched the flames continue to creep up his arm. His side was being burnt, she realized, as the smell of burning flesh suddenly became far too clear. The Dragoon held back the urge to gag and instead pulled out a hi-potion, quickly breaking it onto the Commander’s shoulder.

“Why are… You shouldn’t be here. You’re supposed to be in- in Tenebrae! It’s too- bloody hell- dangerous for you here!” Ravus argued, before his voice broke off into an ear-splitting scream. His vision was blurring out, the pain becoming too much for even him to handle. Head lolling backwards onto Aranea’s thigh, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out, color leeching from his face.

“Oh, for Etro’s sake,” the Highwind yelled, looking around for help. Anyone, anyone- there. That bastard. “Izunia, get over here!” She commanded, not caring for titles in the least. Not when she’d be hacking off the arm of the man whose bed she’d shared the night before. The thought chilled her to the bone, but she had to do it. She didn’t have a choice in this matter.

“Oh, my. He looks to be in a bit of pain, doesn’t he? Perhaps we should put him-”

“Finish that sentence and my lance will go through your left eye socket. Get down here and hold onto his legs.” She hissed, glaring up at the Chancellor. “I hope you’ve got some transportation out of here, ‘cause this place isn’t going to hold much longer and neither will he,” as she spoke, the ceiling of the Citadel shook, pieces of concrete falling from the sky as it began to fall apart.

“I’m gonna need you to hold onto him as much as you can. I don’t have anything to numb him up with, and this is gonna be bloody and painful for us all.” With that said, she reached over and withdrew Ardyn’s own blade, ignoring the shout of anger from the man. She’d deal with the repercussions later. The fire was spreading up, up, almost reaching his shoulder. Not on her watch. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she murmured, pressing the edge of the blade against the flesh of his bicep.

“Hold him still!” The Dragoon yelled, watching as Ardyn all but straddled the Commander and forced his own weight down upon him. Her gaze swept back to the arm, aking in the sight of flesh charred black, before gritting her teeth. “Here we go!” She sat up onto her knees and pushed, pushed, pushed; the sound of bone crunching met her ears the same moment Ravus let out a scream akin to a banshee. Blood was already pooling beneath them, staining her knees a darker black and his coat a vibrant vermillion. It was hard, to push through bone and muscle with no help from momentum. But it ended, the blade striking ground and the limb falling away, still burning as the skin began to flake off.

“Get your transport in here NOW,” she shouted, watching Ardyn leap off of the former royal and begin to speak into his com. She ripped off a piece of her uniform, quickly making a makeshift bandage around the stump of his arm. It didn’t do much good, because the blood was already soaking through- but damn it all, it would have to do.

“I’ve got him, you go on ahead.” Ardyn spoke, reaching down to lift the limp body of the Commander. It was odd, to see a man smaller than Ravus lift him with such ease. “We’ll be taking him back to base.”

The first thing Ravus registered when he woke was an odd feeling of being incomplete. Next came the harsh lighting of a hospital room, and then the smell of antiseptics. He groaned, trying to sit up and then failing because… His left arm wasn’t working. Why couldn’t he feel his arm? Heterochromatic hues opened, sweeping down to stare at… At a stump. A bandaged stump where his arm should have been.

“Morning, moonlight.” Came the soft voice of Aranea, drawing his attention from the stump to the woman entering his room. “How’re you feeling? They gave you some good shit, so you shouldn’t be in any pain…”

“What happened to my arm?” He croaked out, throat still sore from the intubation. He watched as she drew closer, setting her cup of coffee aside to settle onto the right side of the bed, legs crossing. She looked tired, he noted; dark circles stood out against alabaster skin, emerald pools usually lively with mischief unusually dull. She was even out of her uniform, dressed in a shirt he recognized came from his own closet and a pair of black pants that clung to her legs. What had she called them… Leggings? Right.

“We… Ravus, what do you remember from the Accords?” She asked, reaching out to hold onto his hand gently. Her hands were always so smooth.

“I remember… Aldercapt and Regis standing off, and then Regis’ hand was cut from his body, and then…” Phantom pains of fire raced through him, making his cringe and tense up. His arm. His arm was burning- only, it wasn’t there.

His arm had been amputated because of the fire.

“Your arm was on fire, Ravus. I… I didn’t have a choice. We couldn’t save it even if we tried. I’m so sorry…” She whispered, head ducking down as she let her words settle in the space between them. His hand was raised and pressed to smooth, shaking lips as she finally let the tears spill she’d been holding back.

Ravus couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen her cry before.

“… So this is it. I’m done.” He whispered, looking at the bandaged nub with a frown. All of his plans, to save Lunafreya, to leave Niflheim… Gone.  “Why were you here? You were supposed to be in Tenebrae.”

“I was called in as backup. And when I came in and saw you… I had no other choice. They’re working on making you a prosthetic, so you won’t be without an arm for long… I’ve requested that it’d be removable, just in case you don’t wanna wear it.” The silverette spoke, offering a small smile.

“Thank you, Aranea. I would… Prefer to be alone, if that is alright.” He managed to get out, eyes closing against the sudden onslaught of tears threatening to fill his vision. She nodded, understanding as she slipped from the bed. He’d expected her to just leave, but she didn’t- she stopped, and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple before leaving.

Once he was certain he was alone, he allowed the tears to fall. Tears of pain, of loss, of anger.

Lunafreya hadn’t helped him, even when he’d called out to her for help.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It wasn’t right.

[itshaejinju]

Name: Morana Tarda

(Morana is Slavic for Death and Tarda is Latin for slow, her name means Slow Death.)

Nickname: Rana (Only Gladiolus can get away with this) Mori by Sheridan.

Alias: The Danger (By Lunafreya), Failed MT, Crazed Shadow.

Gender: Female

Race: Human – Failed(?) MT experiment

Age: 29

Height: 5'5

Weight: 145lbs (BMI= 24 and SBMI 38/70)

Bust/Waist/Hip: 38DD/25/36

Hair: black at the shortest in is shoulder length and at the longest it is in the middle of the back, several chunks are dyed red (though this color changes often red is generally the color she chooses when she can’t make up her mind)

Eyes: (neutral state) sea foam green (manic state) emerald green

Skin tone: pale she can’t tan to save her life

Blemishes: light amount of freckles dusting her face several minor scars

Parents: Doesn’t remember them

Siblings: Has a faint memory of tall man saying he was her brother and something about immortal lions.

Weapon: Manic Stage: She will use anything nearby as a weapon, (folding laundry piss her off, she’ll choke you with a towel). Neutral stage: she uses a kusarigama (chain and sickle) and brass knuckles.

Personality: In neutral state Morana is sarcastic, cunning, brash, clumsy, flirty, will come up with the best plan to get the job done lives might be lost but job done. In manic state Morana is cunning, violent, irrational, blood thirsty, looks out for herself even her s/o is not safe. She will break bones, life threatening damage just to finish her task in manic state, people will get harmed it might cause a lot of collateral damage but job done.

Morana does not have multi-personalities, one would think that with neutral and manic state she does. It’s like anxiety triggers more or less, the reactions are just so severe due to the experiments done on her by the Niflheim army. There is also no angel/demon state of her it’s more like demon/arch demon state. She has a high sex drive, flirts with a lot of people regardless of gender. What turns her on? Someone that can bring her out of manic state, tall, muscles, scars, piercings, humor and anyone that pays her attention. She’s in kinky rough sex, many fetishes will have sex in any location and isn’t afraid to show off scratches and hickies, getting caught is hot in her opinion.

What triggers her? Blood, is she sees/smells blood it brings up a fire in her and manic state is started. She generally doesn’t regret what she does in manic state. If it happens it happens.  

What brings her out of a manic state? Tire her out, she needs someone physically strong enough to wear her down so she just passes out or becomes neutral again. (Hence why her affection towards Gladio.) This is also a turn on for her, she will try to seduce the person who brought her out of manic state because they put themselves at a great risk to bring her down she views that as romantic. If she goes against someone who is doesn’t have enough physical endurance (like Prompto) it will get her madder and it might cause him total physical harm where he’ll need a phoenix down. She will not apologize for it afterwards she will callously say “you shouldn’t have tried to help if you were going to fail me.”

She was in the facility being experimented on as a MT (Magitek) Soldier she didn’t take to the experimenting well. Scrapped aside thinking that she was “deactivated” Morana woke and made her escape, whether it was planned or not no one really knows it was a stroke of luck. She is addicted to pain killers, elixirs, hi-potions she will go without meals to take opiates to cover up the pain she physically feels from the experiments. Even when there isn’t pain she’ll take stuff just to feel a high. Sometimes in a high state she can get too excited and go into a manic state those are particularly dangerous times, rare but to knock her out you have to knock her low enough to use a phoenix down on her. The chemicals they used to facilitate the MT experiments did a lot of damage to her organs mainly her brain.

Her deal with the Chocobros:

Noctis Lucis Caelum: She views him as lazy, she does appreciate his “protective” guarding of Prompto when she is around and finds his humor appealing. (She would fuck him but leave him bruised for ages. “Now you have a reason to sleep, Lazy Prince.” )

Prompto Argentum: She is obsessed with Prompto not in a “I love you” way but rather “how in the hell did you stay sane after the experiments?” way. She will torment Prompto asking him constantly how is he sane what makes him different than her what makes him so special. (She wouldn’t fuck him she would tie him up and torture him sure but sex no she doesn’t want to be with “Successful” MT Experiment. “What makes you so damn special? That halo above your head?”)

Ignis Scientia: She would be the chaos to his calm way of life. Her brash way of speaking, vulgar language and general ways of being would bother Ignis to no ends. Constantly telling that he’s just a pawn that he will never be separate from the “Lazy Prince” if he continues to baby him. Though, Blind Ignis she treats differently. Both neutral and manic stages are almost protective of him knocking him out of the way in battles so he can’t get harmed. Sure he might get hurt by a rock smacking him in the head but he’s not getting stabbed by a Dualhorn. She won’t admit to helping him though and if anyone does she’ll punch them then Ignis. (Would fuck blind Ignis but she would make it so he couldn’t hear her and hope he wouldn’t know it was her. “I can tell you what you can do with that new recipe. . .replace it with vicodin and rum.”)

Gladiolus Amicita: Immediately attracted to the Kings Shield. (He felt the same way.) She will challenge him for a battle at any time trying, her best to out do him in training exercises. She will curl up with him and read with him whatever he’s reading, but if anyone mentions that it looks cute she’ll get up and leave. (Think of Morana as a cat in a way) She doesn’t understand how to give gifts and stuff like the social protocol of it all, so her giving things to Gladio is generally humorous or disastrous. So her best gifts are sex whenever and when she’s having dinner of pain killers and booze she’s giving him her share of food. (She doesn’t understand that he accepts it to be nice but he rather have her eat properly.) (Fucks him often needs a kiss after a battle because she’s turned on. “I would smack a roll of Gil off his ass if I had the money.”)

Others:

Ravus Nox Fleuret: In neutral state she stays away from him finding him outlandish, she doesn’t understand people who don’t talk much. She likes to stare at him then surprise attack him very much to the Commander’s disapproval. In manic state she likes to verbally attack him to make him shout at her and attack.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret: Doesn’t like Lunafreya too much, “goody two shoes” that Lunafreya cannot heal her wounds. There is no fixing her the state is too far gone, but she doesn’t understand that. She doesn’t believe someone can always be so nice that she’s hiding something.

Cor Leonis: When she runs into Cor with the Chocobros at the Tombs she feels he’s familiar. Calling him a Immortal Lion before he even is introduced to her, she just knows it like it’s from a dream. She doesn’t like that she feels she knows him as she can’t be sure those memories are real because she doesn’t remember parents or anything before being kidnapped by the Niflheim army. A few things she was revealed to her was all a lie but some true and she has no way of finding out she could just speak to Cor about it but not having good enough social skills she doesn’t know how to approach him.

Ardyn Izunia: The man brings out her manic state without even setting off her triggers. The very air around the man sends her in a fit. Something about him makes her upset and afraid. So it sends her in a manic state, he easily evades her attacks and down talks her a lot. He is behind a lot of her problems, implanting strange “memories” in her head just to mess with her. Calls her Rana a lot despite she can’t stand anyone but Gladio calling her that. He likes tease her with times being experimented on.

Cindy Aurum: Cannot handle the sound of her voice it drives her insane with the accent it makes her cringe to hear Cindy speak. Insults her often sometimes under her breath or straight to her face, does her best to prank her.

Iris Amicita: Envious of the young Amicita because of Gladio she puts a lot of distance between the two because she doesn’t want to go manic on her and harm her. She wishes she could have grown up in Iris’ spot a normal childhood. Seeing Iris brings a huge spike of jealousy in her that makes her sick like extremely sick.

Cid Highwind: Doesn’t trust older people as she associates them with the scientists and Betisthia. She thinks they are all tied in with her pain.

—-

@stephicness @rubyreddemise @shiroce My OC I’ve been working on a character bio for her~. @moranathefailedmt THIS IS HER BLOG!

[cactuarassassin]

Meet my Character: Kimberlynne Schwert

➥ What is your character’s full name?: Kimberlynne Schwert (Maiden name Highwind) ➥ Do they have any brothers or sisters?: No biological siblings, but she has an older cousin she considers a brother, since they were raised together. ➥ What kind of eyes do they have?:Kimber has large eyes, her left eye is purple like her mother’s eyes while her right eye is blue like her father’s. ➥ What kind of hair do they have?: She has very pale blonde hair, which often becomes a frizzled mess. ➥ What is their complexion like?: She’s very pale, her friends joke that she’s transparent. ➥ What body type are they?: Kimber likes to overindulge in food, so she has some meat on her bones. Her active lifestyle keeps her at a healthy weight. Her breasts are on the larger side, causing her back pain she complains about frequently. ➥ What is listening to their voice like?: It’s quiet most of the time. She feels like she has to shout just for people to hear her sometimes, ➥ What do they hate most about themselves?: She dislikes that she is so shy. She wants to make friends but she has trouble finding her voice. ➥ Do they have a favorite quote?: No. ➥ What sort of music do they enjoy?: She doesn’t listen to it much, but she appreciates most music she hears, ➥ Have/would they ever cheat(ed) on a partner?: No. ➥ Have they been cheated on by a partner?: No. ➥ Have they ever lost someone close to them?: Her mother died while she was young. She’s also lost friends and comrades along her journey. ➥ What is their favorite sound?: She likes the sounds of birds chirping. ➥ Are they judgmental of others?: Not really, she has impressions of everyone but she tries to find the best in everyone. ➥ Have they ever been drunk?: Yes. ➥ What are they like when they stay up all night?: Very grumpy, complains a lot, and has a tendency to snap at people. ➥ Have they ever been arrested?: No. They tried, but she resisted. ➥ What evokes strong memories for them?: Anytime she’s in Gridania and she sees the flowers, she’s reminded of her childhood. ➥ What do they do on rainy days?: She’ll either go out and play in it or watch the rain through a window. ➥ What religion are they?: She doesn’t practice any religion. She believes in the lifestream and the elementals, but she doesn't go to a weekly service or anything. ➥ What word do they overuse the most?: Nothing really, she doesn't speak much to begin with. ➥ What do they wear to bed?: Comfortable shirt and pants. If she gets hot in the night she strips down to her underwear. ➥ Do they have any tattoos or piercings?: Her ears are pierced. ➥ What type of clothing are they most comfortable in?: Light armor so she can move around quickly. ➥ What is their most disliked food?: She doesn't like red meat. She’s not a vegetarian, she will eat white meat and fish. She likes sweets but draws a line at overly sweet. ➥ Do they have any enemies?: She opposes anyone her does not respect the land and the elementals.  ➥ What does their writing look like?: Not overly neat, but not quite messy either. Her writing is legible. ➥ What disgusts them?: Bugs. She hates all but butterflies. Even ladybugs distress her. 

[greyias]

17,18,19,21 from the swtor asks c:

17 - if you have any older characters, what’s changed about them since you started?

Well, my oldest characters are Grey, her brothers Draike and Ben, and a Sith Warrior I rolled up in 2012 but quickly forgot about because Imp players on the server at time were jackasses. The biggest thing that’s changed about the Highwind siblings is that, back in the day when we only had Vanilla and they had just rolled out the legacy system, I didn’t quite understand that all class quests were happening more or less concurrently, so I was toying with the idea that Draike and Ben were Grey’s sons with… Doc.

Because you see, back in Vanilla, she had all of one romance choice, and damn it I didn’t care that everyone was complaining about it I was going to play this story to its fullest. Except, you see, I was also avoiding spoilers, and at that time in the game, to initiate a romance with Doc you had to take Dark Side points. Like, you could easily cancel them out, that wasn’t the issue, but I was trying to keep her in-character, and at the crucial conversation point in the game, nothing had happened where she would have questioned that (because it also happened long before the end of Chapter 2, also because of the way the influence system worked back then.)

I mean, it all worked out in the end, she’s much happier with the path she wound up taking. But yeah, my original thoughts on her character and what she wound up becoming changed a lot over the past seven years.

18 - what companion headcanons/meta do you follow no matter what?

Asked and answered here!

19 - which companion traits would you like to return to the writer’s room for reevaluation? 

the lobotomy they gave lana during fractured alliances er I mean–I generally love all of the companions, and for the most part think that their character quirks and flaws help provide ample conflict and depth. Granted, I’m still working my way through the remaining class stories, so it’s possible one of the Agent/Warrior/Consular/Trooper’s companions will seriously rub me the wrong way.

If I were to return something to the writer’s room for reevaluation it would be the execution on some romances. Specifically the female Knight and Doc romance feels incredibly incomplete. Almost like they forgot to write in a series of cutscenes that show Doc changing and growing from Mr. One Night Stand to “Let’s Be Wookiees! :D” I mean, headcanons are good and all for those who like it, but the actual content in the game… yeah. I really wanted to like that one, but for me personally it needed more workshopping for it to feel like a complete and coherent love story.

21 - what in-game decision did you most dislike the given options for?

This is a recent one for me, mostly because the reasoning behind is just… stupid. I recently finished the Consular quest on Tatooine, and to understand, this phase of the Consular quest is basically whapping some Jedi upside the head with a sense stick made of the Force because they went off the deep end. On Tatooine a Jedi historian, while under the influence of the Dark Side plague finds and translates this really old pillar and goes “Oh, the Sand People survived this harsh environment–the Republic needs to eradicate any and all species who are weak. Rarraredgelordrawr” Like you know, a certain extremely social Darwinian mindset of an opposite faction and obviously the influence of a Sith messing with his brain?

And then after curing this Jedi of his Dark Side-induced genocidal thoughts, comes the player choice of destroying the knowledge or going “this is ancient history, and your take on this is fucking insane”, and I chose the latter option. And suddenly the screen turns red! I think you can actually still go find my reaction on the Twitch stream. Because the reasoning is that by destroying the knowledge no one will ever come to the same batshit conclusion he did?

Like I’m sorry Jedii!Thanos but… that’s??? not??? how history works??? Sane people do not look at ancient stone carvings and go “You know, the guys who shot at and tried to kill me on the way here were right! We do need to kill half of everyone to survive.”

[greyias]

OC Questionnaire

Tagged by @aki888 and @lumielles. 

I’m not sure who hasn’t done this yet so to be different... *selects last five people from notifications* @velvetsunset, @meonlyred, @andthatswhathappened (hahahayes! TELL ME BOUT YOUR BABIES STARRRRR), @elveny, and @-deelightly-! (Everyone but Star feel free to ignore me if you don’t want to do)  Also if anyone else wants to do it, consider yourself tagged!

GENERAL

Name: Greyias Anariel Highwind

Alias(es): The Mysterious Stranger (does “The Outlander” and “Hero of Tython” count?)

Gender: Female

Age: 20 as of the prologue, around 33 during Fractured Alliances

Place of birth: Dantooine

Spoken languages: Basic (seems to understand Binary, Shyriiwook, Huttese, Sullustese and several others if the game is anything to go by)

Sexual orientation:  Bi-demi

Occupation: Commander of the Alliance (former Knight/Master/Battlemaster of the Jedi Order)

APPEARANCE

Eye color: Blue

Hair color: Dirty blonde

Height: 5′4″

Scars: A large abdominal scar, with a matching one for an exit wound on her back courtesy a certain former Emperor (I’m sure he’s sorry).

FAVORITE

Color:  She’s quite fond of the color gray it seems, although it’s probably light blue

Eye color: Hazel (...okay yeah, whatever that shade is of Theron’s; she didn’t really give it much thought before)

Pastime: Until recently, she never really took one up much, and chose to just use her downtime doing whatever her crew seemed to enjoy. She spends a lot of her free time on base meditating and practicing her katas, but a certain spy (ironically considering his own workaholic tendencies) has opened her up to a love of action holos, and other mundane activities that don’t stem from something a “perfect Jedi” might be expected to do. It’s probably best she never retire, or she’s going to have no idea what to do with herself.

Food: Sweetmallow

Drink: Caf, Dantooine spice tea... and rum (shh don’t tell the Council).

Books: Swashbuckling holonovels, and the occasional space!bodice ripper that she buys to feed Theron’s secret romance holonovel habit.

HAVE THEY

Passed university: Jedi Academy counts I think

Had sex: Yep

Had sex in public: Theron’s a corrupting influence on her, but not that much of one (yet)

Gotten pregnant: Nope

Kissed a man: Yep

Kissed a woman: ...yes

Gotten tattoos: No

Gotten piercings: Nah

Had a broken heart: Yes, thank you for that Theron

Been in love: Yes, hasn’t been swayed from it yet despite the broken heartedness

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yeah, she’s just as bad a workaholic as her boyfriend. Although after Umbara, I’m thinking it may be more insomnia from the stress and worry

ARE THEY

A virgin: Nope!

A cuddler: Yes

A kisser: Yes

A smoker: No

Scared easily: Nope

Jealous easily: No

Trustworthy: Probably too much (and far too trusting for her own good)

Dominant: I’m guessing this is in reference to sexy times? Not usually

Submissive: Usually... (also guessing in reference to sexy times) she’s got a bit of a complex, let’s say

Single: In her mind? No. In reality, I have no idea if that dramatic train stunt was technically a breakup. They’re both being a touch melodramatic right now, so I guess her Spacebook status is technically “It’s complicated”

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Wanted to kill someone: ...yeah

Actually killed someone: It sadly comes with the territory

Ridden a beast: Yes

Have/had a job: Jedi Knight, Official Alliance Speech Giver, Offerer-of-Dangerous-Warships-To-Wayward-Lovers

Have any fears: Being mind controlled (thanks Valky!), falling to the Dark Side and losing control of herself again, losing any more loved ones (...this storyline is kind of hard for her *coughtheroncough*)

FAMILY

Sibling(s): Two brothers. An older brother, Draike (the Voidhound in the Greyverse), current status: alive, and has just made a reappearance in the galaxy at large after a near six-year absence. A younger brother, Ben (I keep changing his full name between Benji/Benton and seriously need to pick), who had been raised in a Jedi crèche after the death of their parents, but his current status is unknown.

Parents: Davin Onasi and Vainas Highwind (both deceased), (former) Jedi Master Thyos Dae, still alive, I guess technically could be viewed as her foster/adoptive father

Children: Possibly two in the future, a son, Davin Shan, and a yet to be named daughter (possibly some combination of Satele and Vainas since there’s sort of a maternal naming tradition going on)

Pets: In the crackverse she adopted the Exoboar Squad. Theron disapproves. In the main Greyverse she doesn’t have any pets, but probably should get one since she clearly has attachment issues and desperately needs a hug