#glauca

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Day 24: Anticipation (Ao3)

“What do you mean ‘explode’?!” Libertus yelled over the comm.

“That’s what ‘engine overload’ means!” Tredd yelled back. “Explode!”

“This hunk of metal is too big to just fall from the sky,” Pelna said. “There has to be life pods -- shuttles -- drop ships -- something! Just give me a second…”

“60 seconds! Get away from the back of the--” Tredd’s line shrieked and died. Not a second later an explosion shook the ship -- not the big one, not yet, but it had to be starting.

“Fuck fuck fuck…okay, emergency pods! Third and sixth levels, either side!” Pelna instructed.

“Probably not happening, got a problem,” Nyx said, his comm half static.

“What kind of ‘problem’?!” Crowe demanded.

“I’ll catch up, don’t worry,” Nyx said.

He clicked off the comm. Before him, in the center a hold full of empty daemon cages, stood the armored figure of Glauca.

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Day 25: “Shouldn’t You Be Happy?" (Ao3)

Hey, this gala is boring. Wanna play Knight’s Tale?

Prompto stared at the bright phone from under the blankets of his bed.

Not right now, sorry. Not really in the mood.

He had told them he was tired, that he should just head to bed. Him leaving hadn’t solved the problem though.

It’s Solstice, shouldn’t you be happy?

A cabinet door slammed shut downstairs. Voices raised again, bickering back and forth.

Of course I’m happy. Got lots of cool stuff.

Prompto made himself smile, trying to convince himself. There was a loud crash downstairs then someone opened the outside door. The car started up a minute later.

“Who wouldn’t be?” He turned the phone off and tried to actually sleep.

*******

Day 26: Free Falling (Ao3)

Continued from Day 24.

------- Someone, Nyx thought, was whistling. Not the pleasant tune kind, but the long, annoying shriek kind.

Couldn’t people just let a guy sleep?

Ugh, and it was cold too. He reached for blankets and found none. His hand only found air. Air that felt like it was moving.

Nyx opened his eyes and stared up at a blue sky, at the very center of which was a large, cylindrical piece of metal that was being torn apart by blooms of fire.

Pieces of that metal were falling. Toward him.

He grabbed at his kukri and threw it instinctively to the side before a chunk twice his height barreled through where he had just been. The lack of impact, of either him or the debris confused him, until he looked toward where the debris was headed.

The ground. So small, yet growing oh so very quickly.

Oh…oh fuck…

Would warping even save him here? Sure they warped off buildings but usually that was measured in stories, not thousands of feet!

Okie dokie, let me get to your ask:

HA! He may be a general, but not all commands are given by him (he didn´t know that Operation DOVE was your kidnapping, he almost killed Verstael for that)

is very keen on sabotaging this operation as Captain Drautos obvi

yet there is a problem called Glauca ( like that is great tactical advantage, why should I stop this for her)

Titus feels like he´s got older by 30 years due the stress and worry about you ( Glauca: She´s disposable piece in the game, you can find a different toy)

Titus will not personally come for you, sadly (Glauca: We need to prepare for the attack on the Citadel, not to be someone lap dog on call )

Sends his glaives on specific location (” Our informator on the other side gave us their location.” It was just Titus leaking info and pissing of Verstael, rightfully) "Give them hell, glaives."

"Captain, extraction mission was succeed. The princess is safe" Titus never felt happier than in that moment, mark my words (Glauca: So useless, You're just prolonging the inevitable)

as Glauca he would mock Verstael for not telling him about his plan, and that he could do it better "Don't get in my way or you will regret it."

when you met him in private of his apartment, he´s being so tender and caring (and a little possessive, let´s be honest there)

Titus made love to you that night, letting his burried emotions on the surface

 Normally this would not be a problem, but shit luck had the field medics running thin. The worst of the injuries were taken care of with their last potions, so nobody was dying tonight yet, but there was plenty of discomfort and restlessness in the tiny tent stashed in the rocky crevasse. 

Wind whipped sand against the canvas door, and Crowe was thankful it held. Nobody could see anything in this wind, and thankfully that included the enemy. Hopefully. She turned, seeing Pelna once again failing to right himself in his cot. Crowe sighed, and carefully stepped between cots jammed between the rocky walls to once again stroke the sweaty mop of tangled hair. Pelna’s eyes were clouded with the painkillers currently running through his veins. He clearly wanted to get up, but could not make his legs work with enough coordination to actually stand. He could flop over, but that would probably fracture his ribs further and send bone shards into his lungs. 

It was all Crowe could do to keep him in bed until the next shift came in, or until the drugs ran their course. Pelna made a confused noise, eyes not retracting right in the lantern-lit gloom. She carefully put her hand in his, squeezing firmly. He tensed, then relaxed. . 

“Crowe?”

“Yeah?” 

“Where are we?” 

“In a hole. Try to sleep. We are safe.” 

Pelna exhaled slowly, nodding, eyes falling shut. She ran her other hand through his hair- smiling exasperatedly at him. It would only be fifteen minutes before he was trying to wander about again. He just did that on painkillers- especially the morphine currently running through his veins. He wandered about in a daze unless someone was actively cuddling him. She would have, had there been space and time allowing for it. The crevasse walls only allotted them to cram their most wounded into the space, the rest of the glaives weathering the storm in even tinier tents between boulders along the canyon’s rim. It was dangerous, unstable ground, but better than being actively fired upon. 

With Pelna resting -for now- she slid between the cots to put fresh cold compresses on Tredd and Libertus. Both were sweating out fevers brought on by infected wounds, Tredd being worse. The usually argumentative Furia was almost docile in his delirium. Crowe could hardly believe it, but could feel the heat radiating off of him as she changed the cold cloth at his throat and forehead. Sweat slicked hair clung to him, yet shivers ran through his exhausted frame. They had cleaned the worst of the rot, but could not get proper antibiotics until the supply line came through. Morphine did nothing for an infection. They just had to hold through this six-cursed sandstorm. 

Libertus grumbled in his uneasy sleep. His temp was beginning to stabilize, but Crowe could not lessen her watch. Sonitus, the only one with any medic training beyond first aid, had assured her that they would not die, but that they must be watched. She all but forced the other glaive to sleep. He had been running himself ragged keeping the rest of them alive. Now that they were able to hold tight for reinforcements, he had to rest. 

Dawn was still hours away. Crowe just had to keep Pelna in his cot, keep Tredd cool, and make sure everyone else slept. Which meant the extra goal of keeping Libertus asleep until his fever broke. The man insisted she was his little sister, and that meant that she learned many things about him -some she would rather not know- yet other things that were actually useful. Like the fact that he got wild nightmares when he had fevers. She had stories from that one time  when he got the flu. 

Libertus whimpered anxiously in his sleep and she shimmied her way to his side. He twitched, his hands beginning to spark. Crowe braced herself, and thrust her hand in his, biting back the hiss of pain. True lightning would not bloom fourth without his conscious command, but very strong static would sometimes build in the hollows of his palms. Crowe did not judge, she had singed claw marks on her own sheets back in the barracks, evidence of a barely repressed firestorm. 

Libertus twitched again, then gripped back with steadiness. He was regaining his strength. She squeezed twice, to which he responded, and then relaxed. He wriggled into the warm hollow of his cot and passed back out. Crowe barely held back a chuckle. Puts on a brave face, yet constantly plagued by anxiety, but very easily soothed by those he trusts- that was Libertus in a nutshell. 

The mage turned back to the trembling redhead, who had managed to come to, sort of. The glaive in question was raspily asking for water. She hurriedly helped prop him up and offered him her waterskin, which was emptied after two deep draughts. Tredd coughed and slumped back into his cot. 

"M'cold."

"It's the fever. We will get you proper antibiotics after the others can break through to us." 

"Wheres Sonitus?..." 

"Sleeping. He's been working on everyone for the last 18 hours almost alone." 

Tredd paused, seeming to sober a little. Crowe was quick to check the cloths on his head and neck, no change needed yet. 

Tredd tried to muster his usual snarl, but a hollow noise rattled out of his chest instead. He huffed, and stared at the ceiling of the tent. Everything felt wrong. It was not like a fever that came with a good cold. He felt weak, like the throbbing from the oozing gashes across his thigh were stronger than the heart beating in his chest. Sonitus had cleaned them as best he could with no supplies, burning the wound clean with the last couple drops of potion they had. But while the external wound had been sterilized, the meat underneath was still angry. He and Libertus had been cut off by magitek, exhausted and wounded, unable to break through to the others without being slaughtered. They managed to make their way around, but the next morning had shown that sepsis had taken root. 

Crowe threaded her fingers with his loosely, watching as his eyes fluttered shut once again. His breath evened slightly. The mage stroked her thumb absently over the back of his hand. He mumbled something she didn't catch. When he did not repeat the words and laid still she tried to ease her hand out of his, but he held firm. 

"Don't leave me alone...please." The words were frail, yet the unease ran swift and dark underneath. Everyone laying on a cot in this six forsaken rockpile was the same. Hurt, and scared, and so desperately not wanting to be alone. They wanted rest, without pain, knowing others who cared were there. 

"I'll be right back-let me do another round."

She just had to keep Pelna in his cot, Tredd cool, and everyone else asleep. And pray to whatever deity was listening to keep anything malevolent from finding them. Libertus had managed to stay asleep after only a few more useasy spots. Pelna’s strength had run dry around 300hrs. The poor guy had passed out, finally, the combined weight of his injuries and the painkillers dragging him down. Crowe worried about the redhead currently drifting in and out of consciousness. He was as stable as they could make him. Tredd twitched and mumbled weakly, lost in fevered dreams. 

The mage changed the cloth again at his head and neck, causing the glaive beneath her to shiver harder for a moment before stabilizing to only intermittent quivering. Daylight would come soon. He just had to hold on until the main line could get through to them. Crowe mopped up the sweat on his face. 

“No…please, no…” 

“It’s ok, I’m right here.” 

“Please no…he’s coming…” 

Crowe squeezed his hand, soothing. The redhead exhaled, settling down yet again. Crowe breathed a sigh of relief, but she choked on it as Tredd sat bolt upright, staring wide eyed at the door of  the tent. Crowe jolted, trying to hold Tredd down until she saw what he did at the door. 

An outline that starred in their nightmares. The armored monster had personally cut down a good chunk of the galahkari in their homes, and those who he came across later, fleeing the destruction. Glauca. 

The outline slowly moved along the outside of the rocky outcropping, his blade sheathed on his back. Tredd and Crowe held silently. The outside of the tent was camouflaged as best as they could. Daemons only saw moving targets. Magitek could also be fooled pretty easily, their circuitry detecting shapes they had preprogrammed. But Glauca? How good was his night vision under that accursed helm? They were wounded and barely out of stasis- only one good spell each. Glauca would slaughter them! 

Tredd and Crowe strained to hold still, magic burning in their veins with panic. They held it back. Any spark of lightning or fire could be seen in the dark. They had to hold. Still and silent. 

The dreaded silhouette crept closer, seemingly considering the crevasse. Their hearts skipped beats under the cold adrenaline.

The butcher turned away, commenting on a radio that there was no sign of the glaives here, and proceeded to walk away. 

Tredd and Crowe did not move until they were certain he was gone. Tredd flopped back onto his cot. Crowe chuckled softly, weak with relief. 

“Hey, Crowe?”

“Yes Tredd?”

“Do you think the ahtarii are laughing at us?” 

“Probably. Go to sleep.” 

“After that? I’ll…I’ll try. Just..don’t go.” 

Crowe huffed, but settled in, holding his hand, curled against his cot. Tredd squeezed twice and settled in. Uneasy sleep stole over them both. 

Crowe awoke to the shape of a huge figure at the door of the tent in the watery light of predawn, unzipping the door. She bolted up, fire boiling in her veins. He couldn't. She wouldn’t let him. She would turn everything to ash first. She could feel the scream of rage in her throat. She would put her soul in this spell if needed. But not until the bastard showed his ugly mug. 

Drautos opened the door and stepped in, pausing at the sight of a mage ready to incinerate him. Crowe choked on air and stumbled forward, almost faint with relief. They were safe. They were safe. 

Drautos caught her and held her as she regained herself. A medic team marched in behind them, bringing precious supplies.

“Last night, we saw him. We saw him, captain…He almost found us…” Crowe ground out.