WAR WOLF.

[soundbyfury-blog]

         Written by Calis.

[bodulfr-blog]

crystallinecaelum: 

♛  —– The grieving prince flinched as the older man’s arms wrapped around him, surprising him. He had never expected Ravus to show him any form of compassion or comfort such as this before, but perhaps now in their grim circumstances, they could finally begin to understand each other. Eyes scrunched up as tears continued to fall from them, trembling hands raising to grasp onto the fabric at the back of the silverette’s attire as his sobs wracked his body, burying his face in Ravus’ shoulder.

It was bittersweet truly. He and Lunafreya’s elder brother were finally getting along, hugging and crying together even - something he wouldn’t do with anyone except his closest friends - but all at the cost of Luna’s own life. She would be overjoyed to see them on friendly terms with each other, if only she had lived to see it.

Noctis clutched Ravus’ jacket tighter, shaking in the other’s arms. It seemed like the tears would never stop flowing, his heart aching in his chest, worse than any wound he had ever received in battle. Only this man could understand the pain he was enduring right now, having lost just as much as Noctis. Both men had lost their only parents, their homes, and now the one woman who mattered most to both of them. They were more alike then they had ever cared to admit.

After what seemed to be a very long time of crying in Ravus’ arms, the young royal pulled back to wipe at his face, the tears finally having run out. “I didn’t mean to cry in front of you like that…thanks for uh…you know…” he said quietly with a small sad smile, his voice hoarse from the crying. Now that he was no longer in tears, the awkwardness began to set in. 

It was easier to scorn Noctis from afar than it was like this, when he was still living in an ivory tower behind Lucis’ walls and crippled under tragedy he’d had a hand in. Was it guilt? Maybe. No, it was, as even he could recognize it in himself. That part in losing his father, as twain as it was in guilt and cruel satisfaction and crueler victory, had been blood on Ravus’ hands even if he hadn’t been the one wielding Glauca’s blade. For all he preached of vanity and ineptitude on part of the prince, a selfish man wouldn’t weep like this. Not for loss of the Oracle, but of his childhood friend. Ravus could tell the difference and this was not a self-pitying martyr who had lost a convenience. 

Noctis felt small in his arms, vulnerable. In the wake of Luna’s loss, those protective instincts found another focus, even if the love he’d always bear for his sister would never wane. Like this was the man beneath the bravado, beneath the paraded privilege Regis had boasted quietly for over a decade. The one person left who had seen his mother die. The last person who had been there when Luna had perished. It was comfort, maybe, but it felt yet too alienable to offer words. Like a snake endeavoring not to poison the rabbit. 

Or a wolf keeping his fangs back not to sink into the neck of the gazelle. Too many contrasts, too many natures and skewed things that burned like cauterizing skin. When he felt Noctis pull out from the embrace, opening his arms so that the prince wouldn’t have to remain, Ravus slowly stood and gazed at the empty casket and his sister’s portrait that was haunting. A happiness too soon. “...Do not yet think me kind, prince Noctis. Incident shouldn’t breed sentiment.” Though they seemed a sage musing, mistrustfully did he stare at his own augmented prosthetic.

“Regardless of what was intended here, what do you intend to do from here? Do not think there is peace between us yet. There is still too much to do, too much you owe my sister and the world to see to its completion.” From here on out, he would take his sister’s stead in guiding the Chosen, not to uselessly coddle and blind him to the truth as Regis had. They mourned, but only for so long. Lunafreya wouldn’t have wanted them to.

“Where do you go from here?”

[bodulfr-blog]

croweoftheglaive‌: 

All one people, all one people, the phrase repeated on a loop, something of a mantra for these changed times.  With the darkness slowly strengthening prowling daemons as it choked the light from the world, it was something they’d all do well to remember.  Lucian, Tenebraen, Nifen, Accordan, soldier, martyr, commander, Oracle; all labels belonging to the past.  One people.  They’d survive by pulling together or not at all — rebellion would leave a bitter taste in the mouth, resistance would only serve to rub salt into wounds.  Seemed there’d be no escaping the darkness, at least not until the King returned, the only way out was through; acceptance, then, for all who sought it.  

“You’re right,” she started, drawing her gaze back up to meet Ravus’ own, “Lestallum took in the majority of the refugees from Insomnia, myself included, and there are people who won’t like to think that they’re living alongside the enemy.”  But even those so averse to living side-by-side with their former foes would come around in time — they had to, no other option.  “Your involvement is no secret, they threw your name around in their radio announcements.  Don’t think you could deny it even if you wanted to.”  

He hadn’t tried to hide it, hadn’t made an attempt to sweep his involvement under the carpet. Something to be respected.

“Their acceptance isn’t mine to grant, Ravus,” she’d not use titles that were rightfully his, nor would she stand on ceremony—one people ( there was the mantra again ), to he at least, titles held no place in the darkness.  “But speaking frankly, you and I are alike in a way,” perhaps she ought to tread carefully, “We’ve both lost family, lost people who were dear to us, both lost a home, now we’re both looking for answers.” Still no mention of her own journey, not even as a bump in the road jostled angry scars.  “If it’s my acceptance you’re looking for,” wincing slightly, she shifted her weight as she spoke, “Figure things’ll be easier if we’re pulling together.”

( @bodulfr​ )

Even if the standard he’d worn with his uniform had been Tenebrae’s, his sword had still been an Aldercapt heirloom. Somewhere in Gralea, likely razed with daemons, apartments reserved for the royal family and their relatives still had places from his past where his parents and sisters and he stayed before Iedolas’ madness had been made apparent. He’d just been a boy, and his twin sisters had likely been too young to remember, but somewhere there had been extant raiment gifted to him by his father intended for wear when he became older. As House Fleuret was an Oracle’s inheritance to their daughters, the line of Roth-Aldercapt was the son’s. There was no erasing his involvement, his ties by blood. It was as damning as the blood that stained the soil.

Even if it had felt right. Even if he had knighted himself for being the stopper between the empire and untimely death, of the buffer that removed the kingdom from its king and gave it back to the people. Maybe he’d revolutionized himself as a martyr to free these people, to bring the Oracle’s word of compassion and freedom all on the empire’s dime but not in their name. Ravus had thought himself a liberator, a front of compassion where Regis had been contemptibly inert while his people had suffered. Though Ravus still didn’t mourn him, people had died and they didn’t care what those responsible had to say. 

“I would never be so arrogant as to think my own suffering could eclipse that of anyone else’s. ...I spoke with them. The traitors, as to why. They told me they’d had enough of an indifferent king. Of a man who denied even his son the rightful inheritance, raising him instead as a pauper. I was told clearly of what those of Galahd suffered through under my grandfather’s reign of terror, and I sought to right it.” Ravus clenched his jaw, uttering a pale-sounding sigh. “...But I cannot deny the invasion still took lives. People lost their loved ones, just as I’d lost mine--or you, yours.”

But, he wouldn’t ask for mercy. Not yet, perhaps never. Instead, he would eke out a place among them and only pray they might come to that conclusion themselves. They deserved nothing less than that choice when so many had been denied by king and emperor warring over them like a chessboard. 

[bodulfr-blog]

heroicglaive‌: 

   Nyx raised an eyebrow at that, though he had to agree with Ravus. “Ah, not one to fall for your Chancellor’s charm?” Nyx didn’t buy it for one second, it was just too much. Overly dramatic and how anyone would be foolish enough to just… go along with it and believe anything that man said was beyond him. It was only a good thing that Nyx didn’t have to deal with him on a daily basis; and that the Chancellor had decided to leave them be. Nyx had only been ordered to show Ravus around after all; but Ardyn had tagged along and Nyx could hardly say no to him either. So it had been a bit awkward at first; though less so now that they were alone.

  Offering a chuckle, he shook his head; “Breaking code? Do you always follow the rules? Considering the peace treaty, I doubt anyone would truly mind; and on a day like today, you are hardly on duty. It’s a day of relaxation as you take in the wonders of Insomnia! Buildings upon buildings upon buildings! If you are lucky, you might see a really tall building… or maybe a very small one. Exciting stuff,” okay, so maybe Nyx didn’t think there was that much to show off. Not other than the few monuments and historical buildings they had here or there.

 It was Insomnia after all, the city that never slept, but also the city that never truly came alive before the sun went down. Considering Nyx didn’t have night duty though, then the tour had to be during the day. “At least you got a guest room with a view over the city, right? It’d be a shame if you didn’t. Insomnia is beautiful at night,” at night even the refugee distract was lit up in bright neon colors and at such times it felt like they weren’t as separated from the rest of the city like they usually were. “Either way, it’s about lunch time. What do you want for lunch? I’d take you to my favorite spot, but considering your… position as not only High Commander, but also Prince, then you probably want something a bit more fancy?”

This was something he had to weigh carefully. For though Ravus didn’t have a large a part to play in this invasion as Glauca did, both men had still colluded with one another and written documentation would be found in Niflheim. Though, would it truly be such a loss? It had already been determined that the provisional government to come would be headed by him, and that the invasion itself wasn’t supposed to inflict that many casualties. But, ultimately, these were platitudes the guilty told themselves--and he would be guilty. All the anger in the world against the Crown couldn’t contend with the innate compassion and love of life that was the Oracle’s tradition he’d been born and raised into. 

“Hm, hardly. We occupy different strata. Men such as him understand little of what even the greenest private undergoes.” At least the man’s humor could be appreciated. Ravus himself had spoken with those who would be among the numbered traitors, those he personally promised to take care of the families of if their lives were forfeit, which they greatly could be. An easy promise, but Nyx Ulric hadn’t been among them, sadly. If anything, a strange but tremendous respect existed for Regis’ crowning achievement among his Glaives, unjustly as they’d been commissioned. Soldiers handpicked among a people he had barely protected in the first place. And he would wonder why this betrayal would come, even from his own general! 

“I cannot help but feel as though you would greatly prefer Tenebrae to this city. We have jungles as thick as those on Galahd, perhaps nearly as old and wild. Much more suitable terrain to those like us.” Seeing as he was, Nyx had been charged as a sort of tour guide and therefore the idea of going out to lunch didn’t seem so scandalizing. Humanizing, if nothing else. A last dinner for the king to psychically enjoy before his doom was spelled and his peoples freed from the damning heel he’d stampeded on them in favor of a bogus prophecy even his own son was kept in the dark of. Regardless, he wore Tenebrae’s colors, not those of his father’s side of the family. “If you think I am some high-bred poodle like others seem to mistake, perish the thought. I have dined with my men in canteens and over fire countless times, with MRE’s and game aplenty. Wherever you like. Even if it were fast food. ...I’d loathe to be counted as some gourmet when I haven’t been since I was a boy. Even then, we were frugal.” 

[bodulfr-blog]

@heroicglaive

 “You’re making it sound like you’re dying,” Nyx points out, raising an eyebrow at the taller male. To believe that he was the one who had been assigned to show the other around Insomnia whilst he was here… and also to ensure that Ravus didn’t try anything, of course, though so far Nyx wasn’t concerned about that. Not yet, at least.

 “If it’s that hot, then take off your coat. I’ve already told you. This isn’t Gralea,” or perhaps Ravus was just displeased that he was being dragged around the city, but hey, Nyx had a job and he intended on doing it. It was far better than gate duty. “Besides, your gaze gets all intense when you’re agitated. It’s both amusing and kind of hot,” Nyx, flirting with the enemy? Why he would never. Not that they were supposed to be enemies for much longer either way.

“You’re a soldier as well. Our ilk are built of tougher stock, I’d like to think. I was referring more to some...unpleasant company.” That unpleasant company being the Chancellor who had recently departed to torment some other unwitting soul, Six be praised. He’d heard much of the feats of the Kingsglaive, and while they’d been enemies for the longest of times, they were one of the few branches of Lucis’ crown he had tremendous respect for. If could find kinship in, in better circumstances. 

Admittedly, while the flirtation had caught him off guard, Ravus was by no means some blushing maid. He’d been with men and women in his squadrons before, it had never been to excess and this certainly didn’t go over his head. If anything, to be doing such with Lucis’ golden son among them could be considered an honor. And a comfortable realm, if it need be said. His lips tugged upwards mirthfully. “And if I were to continue, wouldn’t that entail both of us breaking code? I hardly wear this only for show, Ulric.”

[bodulfr-blog]

calamumincharta: 

Deep breath.

One…two…three–

The notebook in his hand may have made a sound as if groaned under his GRIP. The audacity of the elder man almost shocked him. Ignis was of the opinion that one should be polite no matter their upbringing and the platinum blond’s demeanor left a SOUR taste in his mouth.

Peridot hues scanned around the halls and to his relief there was no one there. Ignis was a polite man, well educated and well mannered but what he wasn’t was a doormat.

Which is why he SHOVED Ravus, not hard, but enough to convey a message. The Commander’s space would be invaded by the adviser, eyes narrowed sharply behind his glasses.

“Listen here you, I haven’t the slightest bit of time to be dealing with your petulant little tantrums and believe me I wish not to be here as much as you. I, however, follow orders. Lucian orders. Not Tenenbrae pest orders. So you can take the bloody hospitality or we can spend each other’s company in silence.”

Whatever indignation Ignis was keen on conveying was instead ignored by the High Commander, as he’d been used to the juvenile defiance of high-bred privates who believed themselves above the grunt work demanded by all in their position. In Ignis’ case, the frustration rolling from him was met with a stolid, iron wall of indifference. 

Turning your back to an enemy could be considered either stupidity, or an insult of the highest order. In him, it was the latter and one hardly lost on the other. The rapidly approaching footfalls of what came next seemed to indicate a fault in what was supposed to be an impeccable reserve. 

Whatever respect could’ve been earned was evaporating fast, Ravus barely moved when the other clashed harmlessly into hiss frame. Having his DNA mingled with that of an Iron Giant’s since he was a teen had made a brutish wall that was barely flesh beneath skin any longer. 

“I think I’d prefer silence, then,” came Ravus’ measured tone but simmering with anger. Those in the King’s court really were all the same. “You say I pitch a tantrum when you shove me. I’ve seen toddlers with more tact than you Lucians who luxuriate in the swill of your boastful isolation those outside the wall resent you for!” His face was inches from the other’s intimidatingly, lips raised in a feral snarl. “Do. Not. TEST. ME.”

[bodulfr-blog]

codeprint: 

“I-It’s Prompto, sir! Prompto Besithia!” 

Ther’es a stumble over the surname, an uncertainty if he’s permitted to state it. Verstael may be his blood, but the man was no father and held little claim to his youngest son. No, perhaps Izunia would have been a more befitting name for he was the one with a plan for the boy’s future.

Which brought him here. Away from the private training sessions underneath the guidance of the house staff and into the rank and file of the military. He recognizes it for what it is, an opportunity to prove himself and gain the necessary skills to accomplish the mission set out for him.

And the thought of letting it slip through his fingers makes him sick. He does his best to stand straight and proud, to be the very example of a soldier – but he knows himself that he lacks the endurance that would have made him a good MT, his movements are awkward and unsure. He has trained but not for this.

The very utterance of the blond’s name caused his very blood to curdle to stone. Besthia. His great uncle by marriage, if he wasn’t mistaken, as Verstael had married into the Aldercapt line. Though that skewed what they were, great-cousins seemed to mark it just fine. To think, this boy was blood to the man who had gleefully tormented him, had made his blood daemonic and had augmented him so totally there was little in him left that could be considered human.

More daemon and cyborg than man. 

“Besithia? Don’t think your name will afford you special privileges. I was instated in the ranks of the military much younger and no such special treatment was incurred upon my person. You would do well to remember that,” Ravus spake sternly, but not cruelly. His nod was firm, arms squarely at his side. That would be the last time he spoke to the other directly if not to reprimand him. They recognized no noble blood, here.

“Now, as you have been briefed before, we are going on a week-long excursion into the mountains. It will be cold, it will be merciless, and those who fail will be discharged. Am I understood? Now, to the training course.” The other rookies clapped their ankles together, ramrod straight, and saluted in precise unison of one another.

Secretly, he wondered if Prompto would be able to keep up. 

[marcusalldaylius]

My heart is firm, my hands calm: I need no hot words.

Beowulf (via marcusalldaylius)

[literaetures]

literature moodboard — Beowulf

“I had a fixed purpose when I put to sea. As I sat in the boat with my band of men, I meant to perform to the uttermost what your people wanted or perish in the attempt, in the fiend’s clutches. And I shall fulfill that purpose, prove myself with a proud deed or meet my death here in the mead-hall.”

[bodulfr-blog]

croweoftheglaive: 

Tenebrae.  House Fleuret?  Looked to be tall, pale complexion, fair hair, words spoken with an air of authority, not at all like the locals — Ravus Nox Fleuret?  First son of Tenebrae, the one who’d be their King if not for the Empire’s invasion all those long years ago.  A name and a picture staring down from an intel board, no doubt one of the dignitaries in Insomnia on the day of the treaty signing, such was his position within the ranks of their military … had he known of her mission?  Did he know of her failure to reach his sister?  

“I’m familiar,” eyes narrowed slightly as gaze lifted to meet his own, “Blood of the oracle, right?”  No more empire, their own King missing, the radio broadcasts rang in her ears — they were all one people now, no divisions or enmities in the gathering darkness.  She ought to snap, give the former commander a taste of her bite alongside her bark but a tug of familiarity stopped her.  Two sides of the same coin, they were; displaced, forced out of their homes, military service albeit on opposing sides — would seem that common ground stood not too far off.

“Never seen Tenebrae myself,” arms folding across her chest, she settled in for the last leg of the journey, “Never made it.  Barely made it out of Insomnia before…”  No need for that story now, details would keep for another day, another time, perhaps when they weren’t cooped up in the back of a truck.  “The plant’s at the top of the steps,” a swift change of subject, she veered back toward a safer topic, “You’re looking for Holly.  Jeanne, too.”  Surely the people of Tenebrae deserved a chance, the same fighting chance that EXINERIS had given them.  “Can introduce you when we get there.  Save you some hassle, get you back to your people sooner?”

( @bodulfr​ )

He knew better than to show himself among them. Perhaps the city-born residents may not bear as much resentment, what with him coming in personally shortly after to establish a provisional government and see to to Lucis’ reparation, but others might not be so forgiving. Even if he’d borne a hand in uprooting an ineffective and banal excuse of a king, Niflheim was hardly better with the establishment of their bases and colonialism that left no prisoners or survivors. Things that went against the Oracles’ tradition he clung righteously to weren’t enough to save disenfranchised and misplaced peoples across the felled kingdom. That was, until Noctis would arise again and claim his place on its throne as a better king he could have faith in. 

“Yes, more or less. Take it how you will, miss.” If it was chosen he would be ousted from their folk, so be it. Would the people of even Niflheim and Tenebrae remember him as anything but a traitor? A man given the order to kill his beloved younger sister and the king? Ravus pursed his lips, heterochromatic gaze embroiled in conflict. Why now of all times would the opinion of ordinary people afflict him so? Already he could walk unperturbed by the daemons, they thinking him one of their own from over a decade of experimentation after Tenebrae’s invasion. “Might I be frank with you, for a moment?” His eyes were direct, but not cutting. Ravus knew he had no right to be. 

“I hold no illusion that your people may not wish to accept me, nor that of those from Tenebrae or Niflheim. Yes, I did take part in Insomnia’s provisional government, but no amount of reconstruction of the damage done can being back the dead. I doubt it’s any secret of my involvement, of...how denying it would be tantamount to killing the beloved dead again.” His connection with Iedolas, too, could be called into question. How he was the sole inheritor of House Aldercapt and how its title could rightly fall to him while Stella would have Tenebrae in their sister’s stead. He nodded grimly, looking away. “...Should you chose to accept me, I will be endlessly grateful.”

[bodulfr-blog]

ilmortale: 

time falls away from him — sinks down to the bottom of his lungs, a steadily growing bed of bones, and noctis learns to breathe through the pain, each gulp and wheeze and rattle a fresh bruise. he crawls out from under a dreamless sleep, wanders the room like a blind man; speaks with a voice half-gone, and avoids looking at ignis for too long. grief is a gradual coming-apart — a non-fatal, fatal wound. kept behind his ribcage, she is a bright and cutting pain, her face sombre and holy like iconography. it unravels him, the memory of her who is no more, and when he looks at ravus, all thunder and fury and agony, noctis steps aside, still and silent, and it’s less invitation, not quite resignation; more of a numb, gaping thing, a formless blackness that rules his silence. the concern of his companions ( brothers, he thinks, but it’s hard now, bearing the brunt of that intimacy ) goes unheard, unheeded, pushed aside with a flick of a pale wrist. he settles his gaze on ravus instead and finds no trace of her, and somehow, that makes it even worse.

Storms followed in his footsteps, lightning in his veins, clouds hung over him like funeral palls as the wake of moonlight’s death played a dirge in the airs betwixt them both. It was heavy with lamentation, but his was not without reason, an unfurling regret that bound him by bars and reminded him of inhuman steel in his bones, brackishness in his blood as dark as hers had been. It was death’s shroud come, deathly. How much time was to be had before any execution, it could not be said. But they were here, these two, a funeral dirge played between them with nary a word yet to speak. “You’ve awakened, at least. We must speak, Noctis. I cannot be of any use in this situation if you are to address me only in silence.” His tongue does not boast as much bite as it could, but that has not softened its tang. A hand upon the younger man’s shoulder and he moves the crown prince aside enough to step through the threshold and close the door. Hm, left alone. All the better.

“Sit. Listen. I will speak until you muster some semblance of being able to do so.”

[bodulfr-blog]

"Why do you look like a heroin addict? Do Ardyn and I need to stage an intervention?"

Glances down at his coffee, furrowing his brows. From what he knew, 72 hours of sleep deprivation oft resulted in hallucinations, but ones so garish and vivid? Perhaps a projection of the subconscious on his own impression of Ardyn, given this one mentioned the Chancellor by name. And though his need for sleep had decreased through the years no thanks to his augmentation of Iron Giant DNA into his system, perhaps this was something to look into.After all, he couldn’t afford letting his officers see him engaging a delusion. Turning away, Ravus said nothing.

[luxfrozen]

     “The Frostbearer scorns these visions of hope which melt like snow                                                            in the sun’s light.”

            Please, like/reblog if you’re interested in interacting with Gentiana/Shiva of FFXV!

[pondmelody]

for @melqomene and @arthemis mythological event  — 6th day: favourite japanese deity/group/creature » Yuki-Onna

“Yuki-Onna appears on snowy nights as a tall, beautiful woman with long black hair and blue lips. Her inhumanly pale or even transparent skin makes her blend into the snowy landscape. Despite her inhuman beauty, her eyes can strike terror into mortals. She floats across the snow, leaving no footprints, and she can transform into a cloud of mist or snow if threatened.”  

[bodulfr-blog]

@luxfrozen

[bodulfr-blog]

He despised her beauty. The wolf in him wanted to tear it apart, gnaw on its bones, and crush it. It was like the old Lucian fairytale about a Yuki-Onna--a beautiful woman made from the snow who enticed men into the storm and froze them to death. That’s what she’d been, before being a being of his worship. Before the child in him had stared at her and shyly looked away when it was met, because her beauty confounded him. Now, twelve years later? It angered him. How she could lead his sister to her demise so carelessly and willingly, to dare to be frozen immemorial with that same face she’d been wearing for decades. 

Filthily, blasphemously, the primal man in him wanted her. To kiss her, to bed her--to do what instinct wanted. Even now, glimpses of improper flesh winked at him beneath silken robes, shape beneath that teasing him. But, Ravus knew better. Before it being a matter of consent that would need be given, she was a goddess who had killed people carelessly once before. And no amount of carnal desire would blind him to that fact. 

Even if her throat was pale and pure enough to mark. And the wolf in him wanted to.

“My sister is safe, I trust? I’m afraid it was difficult to shake off my superiors this time around.”

@luxfrozen

[bodulfr-blog]

To hell with it, but I’m moving Ravus back on here! Sorry for the run around, but expect me to be active here once more!

[bodulfr-blog]

Leans on. yawns.

He cannot help but smile softly when he feels Aranea’s person lean on his shoulder, hers always a welcome relief from the contention of the daze of Niflheim. An arm circles her waist, bringing the commodore in close.“It seems to me you’ve been at work through the day, have you not? Walk with me. That ought to shake off the afternoon doldrums.”