His parents had died at a young age, and his uncle hadn’t been the best of people. He drank heavily, did drugs and was both physically and mentally abusive, tending to take his anger out on Noctis. He was involved with some shady people and as a result, so was Noctis.

As much as he hated his uncle, he grew up to be just like him. He did drugs, he stole, he got into fights.

It had been a bank heist gone wrong that led him to this particular doorstep with his probation officer. All others involved had gone to prison, his uncle included, but his lawyer had taken pity on him since he was underage. She suggested that it was his upbringing that had led him down this path and he’d be better off rehabilitating in a home than a juvenile delinquent centre and persuaded them to give him probation under the watch of a suitable guardian.

He stood to the side, hood up and arms crossed over his chest as his officer knocked on the door of the man who was to be his guardian.

Crowe glanced up from the seat she’d sort of perched out in the windowsill, she liked working in the hall, she felt she could really let her guard down, when she couldn’t around her other House mates.

“Oh yeah, it’s a fidgety one. I don’t think it likes people loitering around here much. It always gets uppity when I hang out here,” she drawled, shrugging.

He looked back at her incredulously. He opened his mouth to say something, probably to ask if she was crazy because staircases were not sentient, but then stopped. He shook his head, “honestly, sometimes I still feel like this is all one huge acid trip i’m taking.” He looked back at the staircase and it groaned in response, shifting uncomfortably. 

The young Oracle stood before the soldier, her expression placid, unreadable. She couldn’t understand why she needed to be wed, sold off like cattle when she was set to reign in her own right, as ordained by the Gods. The Oracle was a queen, divine, blessed by the Draconian, and this was insanity at its finest. 

She watched, a little concerned as the door of her basement room opened. But instead of Surta, a man stepped in. Immediately, she felt her heart race. He was enormous, broad shouldered and tall. His presence alone made the room suddenly feel small. Celene shifted away from him, curling in on herself as much as she could as he looked her over. The name Titus Drautos meant nothing to her, but she felt like her heart stopped when he called himself Glauca. 

@ardensaltius:

Surta looked over the young blond with a professional, appraising eye. She’d started about as early as this boy had, but they’d rarely had time to meet. Even then only ever in her full armor.

“They think we’ll work more effectively together, on the next batch of assaults. Your deployment of daemon assets lacks…innovation. I’m in nominal command. But we both know you’re the better tactician,” Crowe said, voice even, almost bored, a sort of detachment she’d learned from Glauca, all her emotions internalized.

As she spoke, she lifted her helmet from her shoulders, propping it underneath one arm.

“I’m content to handle the daemons, I have a feeling you find them…distasteful, don’t you?”

Loqi unclenched his jaw yet again. He would not unleash his temper on the commander.

“Distasteful may not be a strong enough word for it,” he said, as calmly as possible. “Daemons can’t be controlled, and will turn on us given the slightest chance.”

'Shit, shit, shit!'

His grappler never snapped, there had never been a malfunction on his suit or equipment before (he hired people just for that, for crying out loud). And yet, the loud pop of the thick cable caught his attention back upward as he let go of the handle and started to scrabble for the side of the building, needing to catch his bearings and find some footing before he could use his speed to 'warp'.

The night had been a total mess so far: a high bank robbery near closing time had torn a hole in half a block and left a trail of destruction in their wake. At first, it hadn't been too hard to keep up, running between moving cars and warping to close the gap.

The bazooka hadn't been considered and it forced the superhero off the ground and to swing through the any skyscrapers of the busy city, the Blue Coueurl hadn't expected the group to be so well armed.

A near miss as he warped away in time of another round, flying blind at this point.

He rested his chin on his palm, propped up on the bar as he watched Crowe go through her routine before open. She always was good at this. She had no fear at all, and she was beautiful. The customers definitely loved her, and he could see why.