🗡TEMPEST

can i not…… beat you at arm wrestling? 

    It’s far too stuffy in the tent to sleep for his liking. At least, that’s the poor excuse he’d formulated upon realising someone was awake. In all truthfulness, his mind has been plagued with insecurities & uncomfortable recollections as of late – & much to his dismay, they’re ever so loud in moments of silence. Even so, he’s exhausted ; limbs and mind wearier than they have been in months. Thus, the detestable groan which follows Gladio’s ‘ threat ’ proves justifiable.

    “ C’mon, man … that’s no fair. ” But it’s not as though whining about it will help matters. If anything, it’ll get him a snarky comment // taunt of some description & no chance of Gladio ever going easy on him. With an irritable huff of his nostrils, Noctis trudges over – tiredly slumps down, and furrows his brows. “ Not that I really doubt my ability to win, but … ” He does ; there’s every doubt to be had. “ Something’s telling me it’s safer to just let Iggy complain. ”

There it is, the usual grumbling slurred tired in reluctance. But Gladio's always found fun in taunts and teasing; in sharpening the prince’s wit even in lazy midnight exchanges by a dying firepit. He growls a low purr of laughter, though, when his answers come out as predictable as Ignis' chiding will in the arc of the sunrise. But Gladio doesn't mind. In fact, there's a pang of something familiar there; something that has him reaching out and tousling Noct's hair. “Smart answer.”

A moment's pause stalls further jabs to coil the lash of his tongue. Instead, the bodyguard's gazing skyward at the mess of stars splayed out wild and bright against open blackness. It's so much more than what they're used to back in Insomnia where the city lights dull the tangle of galaxies spun in patterns too vast to trace. It gives Gladio a kind of peace of mind in spite of the troubles and tensions he can sense almost tangible even now mounted on Noct's young shoulders. So his voice softens aside some of the roughness, some of the bite. He can let him off the hook for one night, right?

     SHE’S BEEN toilin’ all day, scavenging parts here and there. the mechanic leaves no stone upturned, or car overlooked in most matters. she finds it almost meditative. to delve into the heart of an automobile to map out what makes her tick… ah, ain’t no better feeling in the world. but the one she working on has seen it’s last journey and cindy’s been exploring with surgeon-like precision since she found it this morning.

     as cid would say: ‘she’s ‘bout ass deep in engine right now’. an over the sound of cranking ratchets, it takes a minute for her to register the voice calling to her. head perks up from the hood and brow raises over her goggles in a touch of surprise. 

     ❛ Aw hey! ❜ a laugh leaves as hand moves the goggles from her face. ❛ oh this?! yeah, this lil lady has takin’ ‘er last trip. i’m just seein’ if there’s any bits of use to ‘er. ❜  a sigh and her attention goes from the car on to gladio. ❛ what, you come out here t’ check on me? ❜  

“Good luck. It all looks fried to hell to me.”

He can't help but reach out with roughened fingertips, stroking a lazy caress up the side of the car's rust-baked body with an added pat of sympathy beside the broken headlight. At least Cindy is as resourceful as she is passionate. Gladio's seen a lot of excellent mechanic work in Insomnia's royal garage, but there's just something uniquely skilled about those small, tactful hands beneath the hood.

          ❝ I can handle it. ❞     Almost on cue, something tugs the line. Noctis jumps, reels an inch and, when he’s sure it’s just the hook snagging a submerged branch, adjusts the placement. He could admit that Gladio is right; the line is looking a little strained. But it’s the last bit he’s got unless he wants to make the three-hour drive back to the nearest outpost. 

                                                               And he does not.

                                                             He’ll make it work.

                         ❝ Here’s hoping Ignis can make something out of it. I never want to see another piece of toast ever again. ❞

Gladio can't help a snort when the prince fidgets, tenses with the chance at a catch. And though he's critical of the faith Noct places in one last thinned spool of line, he can't help but admire his determination. It's the same from years before, the same that would launch his strikes in the sparring room again and again in spite of how many times he'd fall in defeat. Good kid.

The bodyguard rolls the bulk of his shoulders, breathes out his usual snarl of a laugh. “You're tellin' me. You think he's still pissed about that time we forget to refuel? The second time. Or was it third? Tch...” 

      By what wild’r grace does a heart beat still ? A folly, for certain, of a maiden casted in righteous warrant with eyes glazed for the heat of battle, wrangled in carmine and gilded splendor. An offered host of divinity she doth shields from the gaze of mortal men for the glory of a holy bearing offers not the seeing man a boon. He is not the destined king, the champion of a sacred light and yet she views him beyond reproach in duty and honor.  

      The beast he faces breathes its last in moment, a thundering collapse to shake the earth ‘pon which it wreaked havoc. Open palms press together, a gentle clap as she approaches from where she watched along the side of the road, a demur expression of pride along her face. 

      ❛  You fight well. I did not think it possible for one man to fell a behemoth by himself.  Surely the people in this area owe you a debt of gratitude.  ❜ 

@amicitian

The earth shivers beneath the fall of the monster slain; the behemoth with one horn snapped broken as it collapses defeated and bleeding into the dirt with one last groan, shudder, and sigh. Gladiolus props his greatsword over the broad slope of shoulders built for the fight, smirks to himself while basking in the sight of a job well done (and the mind wanders to a place that thinks it'd be all too easy to cut up enough meat for the noodles he's got back at camp).

But then the patter of applause, a voice offering praise as the dust clears -- a guy’s not complaining, but what’s with the audience? Gladio gives the woman a wary look, but not without the widen of his grin. His charisma drapes his steeled guard in a less offensive front, particularly for one dressed far too royal to demand any less.

BOLD the ones that apply to your muse.

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked  // tyger tyger, burning bright  //  i have done it again.  //  do not go gentle into that good night. // the sea is calm to-night.  // let us go then, you and i, //  april is the cruelest month,  // pretty women wonder where my secret lies.  // there is a place where the sidewalk ends //  i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) // two roads diverged in a yellow wood, //  whose woods these are i think i know // let us twain walk aside from the rest; //  once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary,  // i taught myself to live simply and wisely //  it so happens i am sick of being a man  //  i wandered lonely as a cloud  // does it dry up like a raisin in the sun ?  //  o my luve is like a red, red rose  // o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; //  out of the night that covers me,  //  it was many and many a year ago,  // you may write me down in history  //  do not stand at my grave and weep  // some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. // hope is the thing with feathers //  the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,  // no man is an island, // remember me when i am gone away, // i met a traveller from an antique land  //  ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves  // this is thy hour o soul, //  when we wear the mask that grins and lies, // death be not proud, // and death shall have no dominion. // laugh, and the world laughs with you;  //  the art of losing isn’t hard to master; //  to see a world in a grain of sand  // is there anybody there?said the traveller //  nobody heard him, the dead man, //  that crazed girl improving her music.  // come to me in the silence of the night; // where the mind is without fear and the head is held high // when you are old and grey and full of sleep,  //  in flanders’ fields the poppies blow  // i thought of you and how you love this beauty // life, believe, is not a dream //  it may be misery not to sing at all,  // if starry space no limit knows // come live with me and be my love, // had we but world enough and time,  // my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense //  bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art– //  thou still unravish’d bride of quietness  //  how do i love thee? let me count the ways. //  heaven is what i cannot reach ! // my dear, my dear, i know // in visions of the dark night //  shall i compare thee to a summers day? // break, break, break  // she walks in beauty,  // i had a dream, which was not all a dream.  //  he clasps the crag with crooked hands.