#aegisregalis

What’s this? Are his glaive killing senses tingling? 

These country people have such fascinating collections of outdated text. Today's entertainment is an author that proclaimed to have the wherewithal to change necromantic magic through some star-aligned means. It is loosely based in facts, and scoffable at its most preposterous detailing.

He startled from a passage as footsteps rapidly approached, confident strides that invoked irritation in Dorian. The nerve someone would need to have to intrude upon him at such a pace. He spun right around, the glinting spike on the back of his boots' heel cutting through the dust.

"Is there a reason for this intru...?"

//That is so adorable wtf... -scoops up Kuja into my large manly arms and lifts him in the air to show the world this cuteness-

@aegisregalis​ sent: ✂ - a vivid memory

He was eighteen. A young member of the Crownsguard and recently made Shield to Prince Noctis though, off duty and on his way home for the night when he’d noticed the Prince walking the streets. He could have shrugged it off and kept on his way. After all, it wasn’t abnormal for a teenager to go out after school but, something made him tail him. Hood up and keeping a few good paces behind him.

If he was just going to meet up with that Prompto kid, he’d head home when Noctis arrived at his destination. Heading in the direction of the arcade, that seemed to be the case.

Someone, clearly inebriated was heading towards Noctis. Speaking loudly, stumbling...

Before he really knew what was happening... he ended up in front of Noct, screaming for him to run. He’d seen the glitter of silver in the man’s hand. A small blade and taken action. Taking whatever blow he’d intended for the Prince and quickly tackling him to the ground as he, himself was unarmed.

A drunken fool didn’t require much force. He didn’t need to be injured. Just arrested.

It wasn’t until he heard Noctis freaking out on the phone, practically screaming–- to who he wasn’t sure–- that he realized he was bleeding. A lot. The entirety of the left side of his face covered. The adrenaline coursing through him made him unable to really feel the extent of the injury so, he refused to go to the hospital until the assailant was in custody and Noctis was safely home.

Marie had pretended to be many things; it was the only way she’d clawed her way out from the underbelly of Altissia and into the bustling society of Insomnia but ‘mean’ was something she’d never had to be before.

Still, if Gladio was requesting it of her, with all his strength and prowess, he meant it. Moving closer, she narrowed her eyes at the street ahead, lifting her chin and with it, pulling out the pink dragonfly comb that held her hair in place, letting it free and wild. Her all black outfit helped, as did the little leather crop jacket she donned, and shifting her hips, she took a stance of dominance, of standing beside him, not cowering behind.

“Let them come,” she said, her voice low, testing out how sure of herself she sounded, “those mother ffff……..”

Bowing her head, she cleared her throat, whispering.

“Badgers! I can’t swear!”

Send “💖” and my muse will admit something they find cute about yours. || @aegisregalis

@aegisregalis​  //  stop tryna hurt my heart !

Nyx waits at the bar, turning the scratched lowball glass within his fingers, marking the scrape of glass against the uneven grain of the wood. He can barely hear it over the din of soldiers, glaives and guards alike, hooting and hollering over emptied crates and overturned glasses of whatever moonshine passes for liquor these days.

Gladio slips into the seat beside him, signals the bartender for a drink. Nyx manages a sidelong glance in his direction before one of the more inebriated patrons is barreling into Gladio, shunting him hard into Nyx’s side.

His hand brushes Nyx’s scarred fingers before he can stop the momentum, and he hastily jerks it away, curled defensively into a fist held close to his heart now. Gladio’s already holding his hands up in apology, shifting away to give him some space, but there’s a dejection, a despondency in the stretch of the beautiful, empty smile, and Nyx can’t help but feel guilty over it.

“Sorry,” Gladio says aloud, situating himself properly upon the stool, as though the silent apology wasn’t enough.

Nyx shakes his head, frowning. This doesn’t feel right to him. “It’s alright,” he assures him, staring hard at his too-pale whiskey before downing it in one. It’s the perfect amount of courage to find, in order to ask the question that had been lingering on his mind for a month now. “We know each other don’t we?”

He knows the answer implicitly. There had been no mistaking the certainty in his eyes that day that Nyx raised the barricade to allow Gladio in. Or that half-choked sob at the sight of him. Or the way he rushed to Nyx’s side, catching him up in a furious embrace that nearly strangled the life from his lungs.

In his rosy retrospection, Nyx had reveled in it, had returned the ardor with arms that curled around his sinewy shoulders. But he hadn’t known why he did. And yet doesn’t.

Gladio can’t lie. And doesn’t want to. But the truth is almost equally difficult to achieve. So he stares a little too intently at his watered-down drink and laughs quietly to himself. “Once upon a time, yeah.” He almost regrets his choice of words. Sounds like a fairytale. So he shifts and takes a sip of his liquor and waits for better inspiration to hit him. “Let’s just say the fact that we found each other is a miracle.”