#about cor

Absent-Minded  |  abusive  |   addict   | Adrenaline Junkie | aggressive  |  Aimless  | alcoholic  | Anxious |  Arrogant |  audacious |  Bad Liar  |  Bigmouth  |  bigot  |   blindly loyal  |  Blunt |  callous  |  childish  |  chronic heroism   |  cheater  |  Clingy  |  clumsy  |  cocky  |  codependent | Competitive  |  corrupt  | cowardly |  cruel  |  cynical |  Delinquent  |  delusional |  dependent | Depressed |  deranged  | disloyal  |  ditzy  |  egotistical  | envious |  Erratic  | fickle  |  finicky  | fixated  | flaky |  frail  | Fraudulent  | foul mouthed | Guilt Complex |  gloomy  |  gluttonous |  gossiper  | gruff  |  Grudge Holding  |  gullible  |  hedonistic  |  humorless  |  hypochondriac  | hypocritical | Idealist |  idiotic  |  ignorant  |  Immature | impatient |  incompetent  |  indecisive | insecure | Insensitive |  lazy |  Lewd | liar |  lustful  | manipulative |  masochistic  | Meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving  | Moody |  naïve | nervous  | nosy |  Ornery | Overprotective |  overly sensitive   | Paranoid | passive-aggressive  | perfectionist | pessimist |  petty  | power-hungry |  proud  |  possessive  |  pushover |  reckless  | reclusive  | Remorseless  |  Rigorous  |  Sadistic  | sarcastic |  senile  |  selfish  | Self Destructive |  shallow  |  sociopathic  |  sore loser |  spineless  |  Spiteful |  spoiled  |  Stubborn  | Suspicious |  tactless  | Temperamental |  timid  | thief | tone-deaf  | traitorous | unathletic |  ungracious  |  Unlucky   | unsophisticated  | untrustworthy |  vain  |  withdrawn  | Workaholic

– (bold are very apparent qualities, italicized are less obvious, strikeouts are not at all)

Tagged by: @cariicature-of-intimacy

Chapter 7 - Party of Three

So this is when Gladio is gone and Episode Gladio is taking place. I like the implication that they wanted Cor to join up with them since Gladio was leaving, but they say ‘he’s busy helping the hunters’ as if they don’t know he’s with Gladio. 

And they probably don’t, in Episode Gladio, Cor says this:

So maybe Cor never said Gladio called him or he’s spending time with Gladio. The helping the hunters thing could be a lie. Ignis said ‘as I understand it’ so it’s not clear, even to Ignis.

Send 📖 to read my muse’s diary

The ink is solid black, and has not faded much, although the book itself is dusty. It sits, hidden inside one of his desks at home, although it’s thick with photos and other items.

There is a photo at the front, a young woman, holding a baby, and a smaller boy trying to stand on his own two feet, but clinging to her dress. She looks happy. She has a bright blue cape, and long shining crown. Beside her, a Crownsguard standing with his hands at his side, back straight. Not smiling. His badges show he’s a brigadier general. He’s wearing a beret. At his side is a long sleek katana.

…

732 M.E. June 8th

Sylva is sick. I’ve requested an extension on my stay at Fenestala Manor in Tenebrae. Just received confirmation. Two month extension will be permitted. Sylva is against it, but all the same, she’s set up lodgings for me within her household. I’ve gone from one-star general to Oracle babysitter.

732 M.E. June 17th

Ravus is the boy’s name. Lunafreya is the baby girl. The baby will be one in September. Ravus has already turned five. The baby is quiet usually, and in Maria’s hands. Ravus follows me around a lot. Sylva has been bedridden, and I have been going between Fenestala and the camp. One of the refugees is very infected, but Sylva cannot heal them like this. A couple have died from other mild infections. Need to bury them soon.

732 M.E. June 19th

Tenebraean people usually do cremation. Not a lot of land, and it’s dangerous to dig on floating rocks. I’m still not very used to being here. Just sat there, watching the bodies burn, holding some little girl. Don’t know her name. Once the pyre’s stop burning, they push the ashes into the river with a broom. And then it’s gone.

732 M.E. June 26th

Sylva left the manor, even like this, just to go to the refugee camp without a military escort. I guess she knows I would’ve held her back. She was there at 3am and we found her around 11am. She’s looking really greyish and dark, and tired. I led her back home. She almost fell of the bridge. I might have to work on security to make sure she doesn’t leave again. She’s going to get herself killed.

732 M.E. July 1st

She said she was healthy, and I believed her. Just a few moments ago I was holding her hair back, while she vomited out blood, and this horrible black bile. I don’t know what to do. This is beyond me. Looks like starscourge. Isn’t it the Oracle’s job to clean it? Is it inside her? Maybe she just needs to rest, and it’ll go away.

732 M.E. July 3rd

It will never go away. Sylva said so herself.

732 M.E. July 7th

Ravus hid behind me while we started to burn more bodies. It’s a long process. The smell of burning hair is terrible. Ravus would hide and bury his face in my side. He’s afraid of fire. I told him not to follow me. I wish he didn’t have to see it. I took him home but he started crying. I’ve seen too many children watching, I forget he isn’t used to it. I hope he doesn’t have to see it again.

732 M.E. July 10th

My return date comes closer, but I still am at a loss with what to do about the refugees and with Sylva. I find her working with them at night. Does she ever sleep? I can’t really tell anymore. Did she always look so exhausted? Buying makeup for her, seeing her cover her face, hide all that behind a mask. Is this what it’s always been like for an Oracle? Or is this my fault? Should I be taking refugees from Ueltham like this? I don’t know what’s the right thing to do anymore.

732 M.E. July 15th

It’s a picture of Cor and Sylva sitting in Fenestala Manor. She looks exhausted, black veins going up her neck, and Cor is feeding her soup. Ravus is sitting at the foot of the bed, and Lunafreya in her crib. It looks like a family photo. There’s one note.

My muse has just taken a Truth Potion, send “Spill it” plus a question and they will answer.

“I volunteered personally to do it.” Cor replied, teeth gritting when he realized the answer he knew might slip out. “I... I had a feeling. He would be good at guns. Niflheim tech. He would take to them... better than anyone else. He was in for a rough couple of months, and I knew either they would be too gentle, and he wouldn’t learn anything, or they’d be too harsh and he would get hurt. It was a specific time frame, and a specific training.” Cor sighed soft.

“He was the fasted learner I ever had. He had to be, if he wanted to leave with Noctis on the trip. He would train for hours each day, and show up sore the next morning. Sometimes he fell asleep on the bench outside the training room, and I’d bring him a blanket and lay him down so he could get some rest. He’s very strong, you know? His muscles are much more pronounce than Noctis’s...” Cor blinked.

“I was right about the Niflheim tech. He took very well to it. I wasn’t surprised. I figure that would be good. I assumed that the trip wouldn’t be long, they’d go to Altissia and come back and then... everything else happened, and I realized why Regis had such high qualifications for anyone who was going to go with Noctis... I’m glad I taught Prompto as much as I could, but he still had some nervousness while fighting. I knew that only experience got rid of nerves, so there wasn’t much I could do.”

Cor thought for a while. What was Prompto like to teach? Other than a fast learner... “I think he had a crush on me.” Cor spoke all of a sudden. If he wasn’t so drugged by this potion he would’ve covered his face saying so. “I had to hold him, his arms, pull his shoulders back, hold his stomach, grab his hips -- I wasn’t trying to hit on him or anything, it’s just that the field... it’s very physical, so, I have to be tactile -- and he’d turn pink and look away from me... I tried to be professional about it, so I didn’t address it. I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, but still... it was flattering. To think someone was attracted to me, even after seeing me up close. And seeing me work -- still, I think knowing he might’ve liked me actually made it hard to criticize him. Not that I stopped. He still had a few sloppy shots, and he still jumped, and made mistakes. He needed correcting. It wasn’t the time to be flirty. It never is. I’m not exactly someone who is going to flirt to begin with.”

My muse has just taken a Truth Potion, send “Spill it” plus a question and they will answer.

“I pretended I wasn’t Doman.” Cor replied simply. He would’ve been shocked someone even asked, but, the potion kept those nerves calm, instead he was just going to share. “After the Trial of Gilgamesh, they looked into my background and found out that I was not the age I said I was, and not an orphan, like I claimed. They made fun of me for being half-blooded Lucian. King Mors called me a “Doman” for a while instead of my actual name...” He clenched his jaw. “They called me Shogun, usually, that one stuck for a while. Fushi Shogun.” Cor shrugged. “I pretended it didn’t bother me.”

“My mother was a stunt actress. Doman people ‘do computer stuff and martial arts’.” He quoted with some tone of voice. “They didn’t think I was strong, but King Mors did... since I was the only one who survied Gilgamesh. So I was put on security detailing. For King Mors personally. I was on the same rank as Lucian High Guards... they said I cheated. No way a Doman could get in without cheating.” Cor blinked.

“Mors taught me about Lady Fukuryu -- the Rogue Queen, is what she’s usually called. She was a Doman Queen, and when the Lucian King died, she took over. She suffered, because people didn’t trust her, and she had to hide, away from the public and the place she called home for so long. Her blade, the shuriken, causes more damage than any other Royal Arm. Do you know why? Because Doman’s are weak to magic. So her pain is transferred to anyone who wields her armiger. I too am weak to magic. I didn’t know why until then.”

Memory Meme

❥ - a childhood memory

Cor stood in the empty kitchen staring down at the dining room table. Thin blue light coming through the window over the sink, shining on the chrome polish. He adjusted his shoulder bag, holding the suitcase by the handle. There was a plastic bag full of crumpled up paper, from the typewriter sitting in his room. He covered it with a plastic sheet. He made his bed, cleaned up the house, packed away his old toy cars that had been collecting dust, and other action figures. 

It felt heartless, but every time he wrote something more heartfelt, he started regretting everything. So it had to be lifeless. He quietly looked into his mothers room, it smelt like her perfume, and she lay sleeping. The ruined side of her face, which hadn’t ever been fixed since the accident, she usually sleeps with that side of her face up. Angry patch of red skin that runs down her side and jaw, taking most of her ear, some of her nose, and her eyebrow no longer grew there. She’s still asleep. She’s a heavy sleeper. He knows, he relied on it to quietly pack his bags, and hide everything under his bed.

Cor set a snow globe on the paper, just to make sure it didn’t blow off the table. He takes the bag of papers, and throws it in a dumpster down the road, so his mother wont find all his attempts to write his letter. Cor adjusts his beret, and drags his suitcase. He heads down the block, and climbs onto the bus, onto the three hour bus ride to Leide.

        Mom,

If you feel like selling the toys and my typewriter, I don’t mind. I won’t be using them anymore. If it makes some extra gil, you can also rent out my room to people. I’ll be okay. I have my own room now.

I know you always apologize, that we can’t live like we used to. You would apologize every day when I helped you in the hospital. When they told you you might not walk again, you acted really strong, but I know you were devastated. Your job was your life, you didn’t know what to do when you lost it. I used to pretend to be asleep on the couch in your hospital room so you could cry. I remember. It’s okay. I’m not mad. I was never mad with you. I was just sorry I couldn’t do anything.

Well. Now I can.

I’ll be in a basic training camp out in Leide by tomorrow. I applied and tested into the Crownsguard. I didn’t tell you because I know you’d be scared. Once I pass basic training, I’ll be moving to the Intelligence Center, out in Keycatrich. It won’t be that far from home. I’ll call as often as I can.

They don’t know that I’m not 18. I have no intention of telling them. If you try to pull me out, they won’t believe you. Registration has been convinced I’m a orphan. Please don’t come after me. I packed up all the gil I made from my paper route, and I’ll be using it to pay for everything. Don’t worry about it. I’ll send half my paycheck to you each month. I have no intentions of quitting. I’m not failing training. I’m not coming home. Don’t expect otherwise.

You’ve been through enough. I hope this will lighten the load. It’s about time I pull my own weight.

I love you mom. Take care of yourself.

Send 📖 to read my muse’s diary: Bonus points if it’s about your muse

The book is ancient, pages are yellow and brittle, they crack closer to the center. It’s covered in stains on some pages, dried brown spots that look like blood, or coffee, it’s hard to tell. It smells musty too, and the words are written in pencil, which only faded more over time. It’s so hard to read, but, it’s possible.

735 M.E. October 8th.

Aulea and Regis had a baby. I wasn’t there to see him. Just like with Clarus and his son. His name is Noctis. Noctis Lucis Caelum. We have no powerlines out here, no phones, so it’s just word of mouth. Might be a lie, but, I don’t think my own soldiers would lie to me.

The rest of the pages for October are covered in blood. 

735 M.E. November 17th

I’m still coughing up blood. I need to get this checked. Sent out the last body bag to the checkpoint. Heavy losses in the attack. People are losing their toes. The cold is unbearable in Ueltham. Isn’t there a proverb about invading Niflheim in the winter? I don’t know. I wonder if Regis is trying to kill me.

735 M.E. November 18th

The coughing is unbearable. There’s blood on everything now. I need to find help. Think doctors in Gralea would taken in a sick Lucian? I have to do something. 

735 M.E. November 23rd

Met a doctor in a village outside Ueltham. Welcomed me in. Convinced him I’m a news reporter from Lucis. He said I need to be careful. There’s attacks on invading Lucian troops. I guess he lives close enough to the border to know the truth. Said there’s a better doctor up north. Gave me some pills. Need to head out.

735 M.E. November 25th

He tried to kill me. The pills were sedatives. There’s no doctor up North. There’s no anything up North. I wandered for miles. I wasn’t thinking straight. Of course he could tell. The Bio-blaster poison the Niffs infected us with isn’t cured with normal antidote. He could tell. He could tell I was infected with it. He could tell I was in the attack.

A woman in black found me. I thought she was an angel, but she gave me frost bite instead. She was freezing to the touch. She said Sylva sent her. The Oracle, I assume. Her name is Gentiana. Said it wasn’t my time yet. I wonder if I was hallucinating. I really need a doctor, but everything is trying to kill me. That doctor wanted me dead.

Can I blame him?

735 M.E. December 2nd

Argentum and Aventus were sent into Zegnautus. They’re horrified. I can see it in their eyes. I’ve ordered them to go back home. Argentum doesn’t want to. She can’t describe what she saw. People. Lots of people. Warehoused. Dying. I don’t understand it myself. She said she has to save them. She has to. She refuses to leave. I need all the soldiers I can get. I guess she’s staying.

735 M.E. December 7th

Turned 25 today. Nothing of relevance to report. Attack on Zegnautus will commence soon.

Send 📖 to read my muse’s diary: Bonus points if it’s about your muse

The spy would find no real diary in the living room, most of the journals were hidden in boxes in his closet, or, at best, in the bookshelf in his bedroom. Today that bedroom door he’d made sure to lock it. Rummaging around useless medical papers about the effects of certain medicine would prove to procure a different kind of diary. A C.D. laying abandon among some of Cor’s medical paperwork. Simply labelled. “Interview 2 -740.3.28” The disc is scratched in some places, but, still working, still playable.

Track 1 -

Can you tell me the date? 

A woman’s voice picks up first, always responded to with Cor’s unusually stiff tone. He usually has some feeling to his words, but he sounds so… nervous?

March twenty-eighth.

Year?

Seven-forty. Modern Era.

Can you tell me your name?

Cor Leonis.

Occupation?

Crownsguard, Two-star General.

So you’re still working there?

Yes.

Can you tell me why you came here today?

Silence on his end.

Do you remember what happened today? One year ago?

Yes…

His voice is tight already.

What hap–

I was imprisoned. Against my will. In Zegnautus.

So robotic. He sounds disjointed. The sound of writing. Not much else.

Maybe you feel… more willing to talk about what happened?

I don’t.

Then why are you here?

You called me.

I call all the time, Mr. Leonis. You never answer.

I felt different today.

Why?

Shuffling. Cor moves around in his seat. The chair is creaking.

I visited it.

It?

It.

Elaborate, Mr. Leonis.

You know what I mean.

There’s a loud thud in the recording. The doctor tapping the recording device with her finger, right on the microphone.

Elaborate.

I visited their cenotaph.

He’s starting to sound upset. Pissed off.

What’d you do?

Left flowers.

That’s it?

What the fuck was I supposed to do?

Leonis.

A sigh. Everyone sounds tense.

Nevermind. I can’t do this today. Goodbye.

Leonis!

Goodbye.

The sound of a wooden chair sliding against tile floors. Some papers shuffle. Cor slams the door shut. The track ends abruptly.