#ffxv crowe

[redarader]

XVtober Day 4 - Exhausted.

It's tough being Glaives.

[jupitersailorss]

that day i found out dmc5 lady & ffxv crowe share the same face model…

[lungrat]

Some art of Libertus based on a little quest thing in amino 💕💕

"He's not coming back, is he?"

[dktakes12-blog]

Contemplation

I didn't play FFXV for weeks after launch because I was pissed Nyx wasn't in my game. He's literally all I wanted in FFXV. Plus, I might have a thing for broken ass and angsty Nyx. Just saying.

Things go wrong. That's the nature of the world. There's a twist, a turn, and suddenly he's scrambling to put the world back together again. The butterfly effect times ten overthrew his life years ago. Sure, there were other men who  could put the world back. But would they do it right? Nyx hadn't meant to take all of this on his shoulders, he honestly hadn't. He had only meant to be a tool and pay back his debuts.

Somehow, he ended up the hero anyways.

Nyx flipped his hand; fire rolled across his knuckles like a playful kitten. Even though he seemed to have tamed it, he was waiting to get bitten. Labeled as an arrogant hero by others, Nyx knew he was destined to fall eventually. And he would fall. As long as it was protecting someone, he didn't really care when it happened. Too bad he was rather terrible at the whole protection thing.

Her face flickered against the unfocused fuzz of his gaze. He could almost see the upturn of her mouth, the tilt at the corner of her eyes, in the stream of live crowds and banners and excitement playing in an endless loop on the television. A treaty already coated in the blood of others and still the populace celebrated. How shocking, those damn Niffs destroyed what was a solid hope for the people of Insomnia. And he and the rest of the Glaive had to keep quiet about it, keep the panic down while they scrambled for a plan to accomplish something. The world was left balanced on his shoulders and Nyx' joints were threatening to break.

A sharp streak of brown distracted him; it was the twist of well practiced hands tying up hair. The scent of softness and sun filled his lungs. He could almost see her, reed thin but lovely as her bare heels tapped on his cupboards and her fists gripped the countertops. It didn't matter how many times he told either of them to get off the counter, his girls didn't care. Nyx blinked. The figure of his sister or of Crowe, he couldn't tell and their eyes kept shifting from blue to brown and back again, disappeared. But her scent, their scent, still filled every inch of air he tried to breathe.

He snapped his fist closed and the flames sparked for an instant before death. Whose face did he see anymore anyways? His sister's or Crowe's? At the end of the day, it didn't matter much. He was still a hot shot wannabe and they were still dead.

His throat stiffened and he leaned back into the creaking springs and cracked leather of his chair. The top of his head rested against the cool wall, flecks of paint chipped into his hair. Inconveniences he'd rather have than death. What a selfish prick he was, letting Crowe die. He just...let it happen. Just like before. The same damn situation, over and over again. Powerless despite the aid of a King. If the aid of a King was still nothing, useless, how was he supposed to fight against anything?

No. Fight back. There's more to this then an ending. There are others, thousands of others, that need a leg up. Didn't he deserve one too? You get what you get, Hero. Play your cards or fold. What cards did he have left to play? He felt like he had none. He threw himself into the fray, changed plans at a drop of a hat, and tossed his own life aside like a simple pawn. Maybe he needed to start playing the game like a queen. He could have saved Crowe then.

With a shake of his head, he forced himself out of the chair. It didn't matter what his feelings were; he was a tool and a hellva of a useful one at that. Change tactics. He snorted, shook the thought from his head with a toss of his hair. He pulled on his shirt, fished around piles of clothes to find his uniform jacket. Would someone from Glahad fall like this? He wasn't falling. How about sink? Did they die in vain? Are you going to let their corpses mean nothing to you; will they join the ranks of nameless others? Victims of a war you suddenly refuse to fight.

"Shut up!" The scream was out of his chest before he could stop it, bitter and sharp as acid against his tongue.

They called him a hero, and for what reason? Because he was reckless. But you get things done. No one dies on your watch. Crowe. Wasn't in your care. Lady Lunafreya is. Will you leave her side and risk the entire Kingdom? He hadn't done anything of the sort. But she's alone.

Shit. Without another thought, the jacket was halfway over his sleeves and he was out the door. What right did he have to let his sisters' sacrifice go to waste? He was tired of losing family and he damn well had the balls to put a stop to it. And it all started with Lady Lunafreya.

"Keep it together, Princess. Your hero's on his way."

- K