Gentleman of Fortune

Al-Cid: One of the Margrace family who controls Rozarria, masters of espionage who travel the world in search of information. They are well known for keeping a woman, or several, in every port. [This is a side blog, will follow back on main!]

[alcidmargrace]

voleurvalor liked your post “goodbye–gone: if you ever wanna ship with me just come to my ask and...”

[ EYEZOOMS IN SPANISH ROZARRIAN ]

[alcidmargrace]

@hxghwind started following you

[Al-Cid voice:]

[goodbye--gone-blog]

if you ever wanna ship with me just come to my ask and be like “listen dick face we bout to fuck shit up with a ship ok.”

[wnq-writers]

Such innocence, such heavenly spirit that seems to linger around you. Our very essence contradicts the other like sunlight in a thunderstorm.

deeplydivine

[ladyasheofkirkwall]

[alcidmargrace]

@ofsilverguns​

“Ah, a most stunning beauty, her compare the likes of which I have never seen, outside my own Rozarria! If I may be… so bold,” he extends a hand expectantly, keen eye on the other’s… impressive weapon.

[alcidmargrace]

voleurvalor:

A brow lifts, mirroring the corner of Vaan’s mouth. Now Al-Cid was talkin’. 

“Well, what’re we waiting for then? Let’s go!” Vaan looks at Al-Cid in earnest; all talk of treasures and pirating aside, he quite likes the idea of seeing a new country.

“Hold on though, let me tell Balthier. I think we were supposed to take on a hunt today in Cerobi, but,” and here Vaan bites his lip before grabbing a pen and parchment. “He prob’ly won’t mind. He hates hunts anyway.”

Dear Balthier, Off to Rozarria with Al-Cid. Should be fun. I’ll bring you back a gift if I remember. -Vaan

Vaan places his chickatrice-scrawled note on the dash of the Strahl before jogging back out to meet Al-Cid in the Aerodrome hangar.

“Ready when you are.”

The airship Al-Cid uses for travels of pleasure, though not much larger than the Strahl herself, is lavishly furnished and not wanting for anything, operated skillfully by his dearest, and most trusted brood of little birds.

This, of course, leaves the two men to leisure, which the Margrace fills with conversation, as is his second-favorite pastime.

“Your... enchanting companion,” he turns the topic from whatever small talk occupied them previously, leaning, bottle in hand, to top off Vaan’s glass of a sweet summer cordial. “Penelo, yes? She no longer travels in your company?”

[alcidmargrace]

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[fuckyeahfinalfantasyseries]

Source

[lastkingoflucis]

He wakes with the first rays of the sun, languidly admiring how they play through his bedmate’s feathered hair, its sheen even more alike to the Ordalian dusk sparrow than it had been in the moonlight. Gently brushing it aside to speak directly into his ear– low and soft, something of the night’s huskiness still in it– he smiles knowingly when the sleeper’s name does nothing to disturb him, and, undeterred, grazes the naked lobe of it with his teeth, instead.

@alcidmargrace

A grunt, and a soft huff of breath as Noctis feels– as though from far away– the warmth of mouth and breath on his skin. He is far from conscious, and if the way he squints his eyes shut immediately indicates anything– not quite ready to meet the day. The scrape of teeth though, that gets his attention and he lets out an unguarded little sigh, brows raising as he peers out into the morning light. 

Ah, such oppulence he is allowed; such decadence. He is sure that he perpetuates the myth that surrounds him; a spoiled brat of a prince– but he will gladly wear the mantle if it will keep eyes off of his exploits and allow him this freedom. 

He wants to be grumpy, he wants to stay in that warm embrace of sleep– but this embrace is just as inviting. Ah yes– a very handsome foreign envoy with a sweet, sultry accent and a penchant for pretty things. He does have a tendency to find a place in his bed for the men who catch his eye, but Noctis has the sense to not get involved with the more high-profile guests. Save for when they tuck your hair behind your ear and tell you how enchanting and lonely you look at the shitty, boring party you’re required to attend– 

Al-Cid, of nobility comparable to his own taking an interest in him was… not what he’d expected. With the Empire pressing closer and closer, encroaching on territory every which way, those who opposed them must remain close, no? How dangerous it was, to let an affair like this stretch onward.

Sleepy, the prince lets out a soft purr and tilts his head a bit, as though inviting more of those little nips to the porcelain column of his throat. His fingers came up to pass through dark curls, a sleepy grin gracing his lips. 

[alcidmargrace]

It would be ungentlemanly of him not to take advantage of such a… delicious invitation– and so, encouraged all the more by those pretty fingers threading gently through his hair, Al-Cid obliges, tender bites melting into open-mouthed kisses as they move up and along his jawline.

These past few months of talking alliance with King Regis, vying for his time and attention with the Archadian representative despite the fresh and tenuous peace between them, have been in nearly every other moment filled with the company of his heir and only progeny. The men of House Margrace love well and without reserve, whomever makes their hearts move in any given moment– Rozarrian ideals the ruling clan exemplify, some say well into excess– but as nobles they never get attached, until such time as to take a wife of comparable social status.

This is where the prince, though but one of many and far in line from the throne, has gone wrong for the first time in his life.

“Shall we…” he whispers throatily between kisses, nigh insatiable hunger for the other rumbling just beneath the surface, “sing in the new day as well, my dark songbird...?”

[wilfredsad]

Visit Original Link

Rodrigo y Gabriela - Triveni

[roseys-deactivated20181203]

i don’t uh…. como se dice….. give un Fuk

[alcidmargrace]

voleurvalor:

(Vaan grins at Al-Cid) Never been to Rozarria. ‘Bout time I see what all this fuss is about. You offering a tour? ‘Cause I can’t guarantee I won’t make it out of there with a few treasures on hand~

He laughs candidly at the Dalmascan’s... endearing audacity.

“What is mine, is yours. Rozarria has beauty and treasures enough to satisfy any would-be pirate of the sky.”

[ron-aurora]

http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=9869239

[ofplacidity-blog]

Suddenly sitting inside a conference chamber with his advisors to discuss important matters didn’t seem as intimidating anymore, compared to what he had to face soon. He knew one day he’d have to marry, but now that a deal had actually been pronounced and signed by both him and the Rozarrian Emperor, nervousness robbed him sleep and calm.

He knew he lacked the right means to ensure the marriage was going to be smooth and fruitful. All the isolation and properness hadn’t been helpful in regards to his skills as a spouse, and that when the princess he was to wed was Rozarrian, who were known for their interesting practises when it came to love. It was too embarrassing to mention however, he was certain Basch had other troubles rather than listen to Larsa confess he feared he might not be able to please his wife the way he should.

In fact, that was the most important part of the marriage, seeing an Archadian-Rozarrian child would truly solidify the new union and make certain peace was going to last, hopefully for generations to come. 

He was seated on a chair by the table as he watched his advisor Ilvaire discuss matters with lord Al-Cid, who happened to be the cousin of his bride-to-be. Larsa listened to their respective arguments, enjoying the banter between them, seeing Al-Cid was usually quite adept at calming agitation whereas Ilvaire was known to be quite choleric. More than once had he exploded during a talk with Larsa, and he had apologized immediately afterwards, with fear in his voice that upset Larsa. He didn’t want his advisors to fear him, there was no reason to and he had believed, that much was clear. 

Eventually he silenced the lord with a raise of his gloved hand. “It has gotten late, my lords. We ought to end the discussion now and allow everyone to retreat for the night.” The advisors bowed their heads and rose, murmuring with each other all the way out. “Lord Al-Cid, would you like to join me for a cup of tea in the gardens?” The usual place, beneath the archs of leaves, decorated with roses. 

@alcidmargrace

[alcidmargrace]

“Your little Empress-in-waiting is a beauty beyond compare,” he assures after a long, savoring sip of his tea, having come to appreciate the Archadian method of preparation for what it is after these many years of the Emperor’s friendship.

The air of the gardens is humid from abundant vegetation and heavy with the roses’ perfume, a scent which Al-Cid has, and always will associate with him.

“A little meek for my tastes, but...” He lowers the cup held delicately between his fingers to a saucer awaiting it below, leveling his gaze with that of the younger man. Isabeta is younger still, a full year from sixteen, and womanhood-- but after such time she will make a fine wife for Larsa. She is, after all, his favorite cousin.

“It is good, then, that she is marrying you instead of me, no?” He laughs heartily, as if at a private joke, although it is no secret to anyone that this Margrace will never marry. Luckily there is no pressure on him to produce an heir of any sort, though the idea there may be a number of illegitimate progeny scattered across the land is hardly unthinkable with the company he keeps, and how frequently.

[ofplacidity-blog]

♖ ~ alcidmargrace

nonsexual acts of intimacy

♖: Having their hair washed by your muse

He was certain Al-Cid would rather spend his time in the baths with a handful of gorgeous women, so he appreciated the older’s efforts to comfort him. After the sudden reveal of his father’s demise, Larsa hadn’t said a single word. It was impolite to remain silent in company and he had been thaught how to hold a meaningful conversation no matter how few the similarities between himself and the other person (and there were plenty of similarities between himself and Al-Cid so that would be easy even) but he just couldn’t speak.

Fearing his resolve to hold his sorrow in and not bother others with it might shatter if he spoke, he kept remaining silent. But he leaned into the touch when the older started to wash his dark hair, to show his appreciation for the gesture.

Al-Cid wasn’t obligated to do any of this, Larsa was the youngest heir of the Empire that planned to go to war against his own home, and Al-Cid was brother to Rozarria’s Emperor, but he still treated Larsa with kindness, which only seemed to make the young lord’s inner turmoil worse. He was confused, too many emotions mixed inside his heart like a puzzling concoction, he feared it might explode any moment.

@alcidmargrace

[alcidmargrace]

Perhaps it was regret that held his silver-gilt tongue for so long, led him to the baths after the youngest Solidor, found his deft fingers working gently through his hair.

Had Larsa voiced his assumption, he would have been quite correct in it– he would much rather be the one being pampered by a pretty bird or two, but time (and a near-brush with death) had given Al-Cid the opportunity to reflect, and try as he might, he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of some responsibility for the little lord’s despondency.

It wasn’t until after he had thoroughly washed and rinsed the locks free of soap, however, that he finally spoke.

“I fear I may have been overly…”

Working the cork from a bottle of rose-scented oil as he searched with some difficulty for that which otherwise came effortlessly to him, he began to work it, root to tip, through the child’s fine curls.

“Direct, at Bur-Omisace.”

He winced. It wasn’t right– but alas, was said, and would have to do.

“…Forgive me, Larsa.”

[fishuus]

oh boy! al-cid is definitely not at all a ridiculous or embarrassing person

set shortly before stilshrine of miriam - it kinda makes balthier’s reaction to al-cid flirting again with ashe at balfonheim even funnier to me