#heroscar

     “Gwha?! —Gladio!!” With wide eyes, Noctis is swatting in vain at Gladiolus’ looming presence. He almost collapses, had he not found his ground in time – bearing his Shield’s weight while fixing him a sharp look. Though eventually with Gladiolus doing poorly in hiding his amusement, the sharp look softens into a dull one. Noctis rolls his eyes, and tries in vain to shrug him off again.

     “Maybe – urgh – gravity’s trying to do me a favor,” Noctis scoffs, jabbing an elbow into the other’s side with a snicker of his own. It makes the prince feel a warmth in his chest – their antics a familiarity he welcomes easily. It reminds him of home, and of long days spent in the training room. Noctis huffs with a shake of his head, and decides he can deal with the casual arm around his shoulders (especially since it’s not weighing him down anymore).

it Big.

          fire crackles low now, dying orange ( color reminiscent of the sun which set several hours prior ) casts not quite light to be warm. lunafreya sits close as she can to it --- coals shine in bright blue eyes. she stares straight ahead. hesitant, as though words weigh too much in her mouth.

          " your father... clarus. he was a good man. " spoken from a place of distant memory. of her mother, as her home burns. she recalls, as well, keen eyes always at the king's side. a shield. like the son who sits beside her now. a shield, beside sword until the end --- lunafreya turns her gaze from the fire to him. unable to keep sympathy from their depth, to keep her heart from showing plain on her face.

          " do you miss him? "