USQUE AD FINEM.

GLADIOLUS AMICITIA / FFXV

I got this. You just sit back and watch how it's done.

royal bodyguard to the crown prince, which essentially means he's been raised as a living shield since he was old enough to understand the concept.

likes: camping. shitty ramen. historical fiction.

dislikes: bitching. whining. various other manners of expressing feelings.

getting a bad grade in communication and a terrible grade at keeping his temper in check. getting a great grade at hitting things really hard with a big sword

live by the grind, die by the grind

app / stats

EVENT — RISING TIDES

Gladiolus here is turning into a mer inspired by sharks - specifically, bull sharks. Finned tail, dorsal fin, sharp teeth - l + ratio + he's biting you

Twenty minutes pass.

He takes to the bounty boards quickly. If you've got to earn money, it's a damn effective way to do it, and besides, it's something he's familiar with. Most tasks are painfully easy: delivery runs or scavenging or hunting. It takes a while for one to roll in that really catches his eye - some news outlet looking for definitive photographic evidence of a werewolf out in Luctenmire.

It's a wild goose chase, he thinks, but then the notion of hunting a monster down in the middle of the night is the sort of excitement that doesn't land itself on your plate every day. He's not stupid enough to go it alone - trying to photograph with one hand and potentially fend off a werewolf with the other would all but ensure that neither task is completed effectively - so he sits himself down across from one of the only other faces hanging around the Skyline Saloon (another one of those metal folks) and sets the sheet of paper he'd taken off the bounty board down in the middle of the table, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded.

There's not a whole lot to see out in the desert they housed him in, but Gladio spends a while dicking around anyway. There's some decent camping spots, and good areas for rock climbing, and if he can find somebody to race him they've got plenty of empty space to use as a track. It's not the worst, but it is hot as balls, so. You know. The place doesn't get full points or anything, either.

Through with his inspecting, when he trudges back to his housing and his tiny-ass weird-as-shit roommate it's midday, and the sweltering sun overhead seems to be enough deterrent to keep most folks indoors. Except for the metal fella standing with a leg propped up on a rock, surveying the... "horses" milling out amongst the sand dunes with an expression Gladio can only sum up as Solemn Longing.

This place is so fuckin' weird.

Breaking down the Magician's door proves to be fruitless. Earnest inquiries, bargaining, and threatening alike all go without answer. No ship will go out further than the coastline, no messages will get through to anyone other than the citizens of wherever-the-hell he's landed. Within a day he's wrung dry of options and stuck pacing like an animal in a too-small enclosure with no weapons, no car, and - most crucially - no Noctis.

Gladio can't remember the last time he's had to go without the Royal Pain In The Ass, but if Noctis is anywhere here, he's sure proving to be tough as shit to track down (and believe him, it's not for lack of trying on Gladio's part). Ignis and Prompto are equally elusive, which leads him to believe that they've been thoroughly separated; or at least he has. He prefers that option. Prefers to think they're all still able to look out for each other, back home.

In any case, being without them - without a would-be King to protect - is no reason to let his guard down. Just the opposite: Gladio fully intends to get out of here one way or another, and that means cracking some skulls or busting some walls down then he'd better be prepared to do just that. Besides, he'll never hear the end of it if he lets himself go.

He's always considered himself something of a city boy, love of the great outdoors notwithstanding, but ENCOY is something else entirely. Amidst all the tech and the shiny high-rises, though, the real stand-out of the place is the Arena. He spends a good chunk of the morning taking on the place's artificial enemies (and, man, if that ain't somethin'), which is all well and good, but in a matter of hours he's itching for somebody a little more real to spar with - somebody to call out your mistakes, to adapt to your techniques. He's starting to realize he took it for granted just how far Noct has come in the last few years - he's damn fun to duel with. But he's in no position to be picky, so he books one of the sparring rooms and spends a while swinging around one of the supplied swords until somebody else turns up.