#glaiveblood

[youngrevolutionary]

@glaiveblood​ // Excuse me? Where's /my/ kiss? 💋

From 9 million years ago---

He's not gay. 

Seifer laughably said those words to Nyx one night in defense of why he never stayed the night. Actually, he used a choice of more colorful terms, which he quickly took back because even Seifer can't be that foul. It was after that when he said it plain-- 

"I'm not gay." 

That was why Seifer would be reaching for his clothes before either of them had time to catch their breaths after a night of raw, consensual (for lack of a better word) fucking. Why he never allowed those more intimate touches, even in the moment of their intimacy. He would go so far as to shoulder Nyx's hands off of him when they would linger just a little too long, even then. It was suffocating.

Don't form attachments. Don't ever fall into the trap of building any attraction -- Seifer knows where it leads. Disappointment. Anticipate impending doom. He'll be dead soon. It's just something that happens. Casualties of war just happen in their day-to-day. He's running out of chances, this Hero. He won't make it another year out on the front lines. 

That's what Seifer tells himself. That way, it doesn't count. It can't count if he doesn't have feelings or attachment. Seifer can't be gay if he doesn't feel sentiment about their time together. In this logic, he's using Nyx. Using his body. Releasing that pent up frustration, that anger that he keeps inside until it explodes. 

He's not gay... but he's standing at Nyx's door. Knocking. Waiting. Like some idiot, expecting for it to open. It would open, wouldn't it? He knocks again, eyes staring at the seam that connects door to frame, waiting for it to open. They dart down the hall both ways. He can't be caught standing here. Everyone knows he can't stand Ulric.

That's why he's standing in front of his door. Because he hates him. Not because he can't stand the thought of being alone tonight. It isn't because he's being haunted in his sleep. Dead comrades, fallen ash. It has nothing to do with the fact he can't get the sound of artillery out of his head. Not because his neighbor is slam-banging around his unit above him. Not because he can't stand the silence of his flat. That uncomfortable air growing thicker and thicker until he could just scream---

Another knock, this one with insistence. Open the fucking door, Ulric. Let him in. 

It takes him long enough for that crack in the door to widen, and before Nyx can invite him in, Seifer's pushing him aside. He's not gay. He's not straight either. He doesn't need anybody-- Seifer needs no one. He doesn't require human connection. He's made it this far on his own without the business of attraction. Distraction. A way to get his mind off those violent memories that haunt him when he lays his head down to sleep-- 

"I..." Had a dream. A terrible dream. Not a dream-- a nightmare. Visions of ashes. Of destruction. Of a silent city, dead in the night. It's a regular nightmare among Glaives. Dreams of failure. Of losing the war-- But what of losing Nyx? 

Seifer couldn't get that image out of his mind -- Nyx, collapsing into nothing. Dust. Scattering on the wind. There's ash on Seifer's tongue and a gut-wrenching scream on his lips when he wakes from these dreams. Shakes -- he's shaking, standing there. Right there! In Nyx's stuffy little apartment! By Seifer's standards, it's messy. Disheveled. He smells incense and it burns his nostrils. The TV is on and plays commercials, and it's loud. It makes Seifer's brow twitch, his ears ring. There's a beer sitting on the table next to the chair. Is this what Nyx does when he's not on duty? 

There's a war. Why are they here? 

Why is he here? 

Unthinking, unfeeling -- he shoves Nyx away when he draws near, a curse on his lips. 'Fuck you,' he spits at him. Shoves him again. Stay away, Nyx. He's volatile. His edges sharp. He's a hardened soldier, not some soft thing that needs to be cuddled and soothed. He's not a boy anymore...

"This is your fault," 'You made me feel this!’ he means. Did he come just to pick a fight, or was there something else? Nyx won't tolerate this any longer; in fact, he's already telling Seifer to get out. 

But he won't. He doesn't budge-- shaking his head until he decides to grab Nyx again, but this time, Seifer is pulling him in-- eyes looking over his features as if to make sure that he was real. 

He's not a dream. He isn't ash. He isn't broken or lifeless and still in a dead and decaying city. He's alive. He's breathing.

And he's beautiful. 

And Seifer can't control that impulse-- pulling Nyx into a deep kiss so adamant on keeping their bodies connected. He wants to scream. He wants to fight... 

He just doesn't want to leave. Ever. Never, ever, ever. Let him stay the night. Please, Nyx, let him use this as a distraction. As a means of comfort. Of safety. Of solace. 

He is not gay, Nyx... but he'll deny all that in the morning.

First Five Get Seifer-Flavored Smooches // 9 / 5 // no longer accepting~

[ezma-auburnbrie]

Announcement:

Regarding the Hunters:

After much debate, the legislative committee has codified the Hunters' position in our society at present. Going forward, the Hunters will primarily focus their efforts on combat, supporting the Glaives in the field. In addition, the Hunters will continue surveying outposts around the continent, ensuring their safety while procuring and delivering supplies as required.

Furthermore, David Auburnbrie will henceforth attend all committee meetings as advisor to the current chair of Meldacio Hunter HQ, Ezma Auburnbrie. All assignments will be decided on the basis of aptitude, but personal requests may be considered depending on the circumstances. Those wishing to withdraw from the organisation are asked to submit their resignation ASAP.

[leorugiet]

scissor thingy meme??

Send me ‘✂’ and my muse will kill yours. Right now. Brutally, horribly, bloody. Just do it.

This is not a heroes death. 

Spitting blood, panting just to sit up, having to ask for help just to go to the bathroom, stumbling to the ground when he reaches out, and falling because his left arm is not there to catch him. He has fought so long, and had so many nightmares. Too many nightmares. He came so far, and couldn’t even go out with a bang.

The frustration is palpable. Being in Nyx’s room is like stepping around landmines. He is not himself. His nightmares come to take him, and he becomes something that is not Nyx Ulric.

Every moment he was alive he was fighting the Lucii and their touch on his body, and it seemed nobody could teach him that this was strength all in it’s own. That strength was not just saving comrades in the frontline, and disobeying orders for that very purpose, it wasn’t leveling buildings and sacrificing one’s life for the greater good. Sometimes, it was coughing up blood in a bed, fighting a war inside your body that is so exhausting he couldn’t sleep, that that too is strength.

Cor was not intimately familiar with Nyx, until after the treaty. Until the dust settled and the corpses were pulled out and someone shocked and screamed that this man is still alive, and runs to get one of the few medics still around.

Against any possible thought, Nyx pulled through, even after so constantly denying help, wanting everyone else to get help first. There wasn’t much the Crownsguard could do. Just keeping people alive seemed to be the main priority and hope. Cor finds Nyx, wheezing and panting in one of the cots, and Cor sees his arm is nothing but charred tissue, and they have to amputate it soon enough.

“You survived.” Is the first thing Cor says.

“It sure doesn’t feel like it.”

It doesn’t look like it either. Nyx is struggling, not just with his arm gone, but they can’t really find a prosthetic, and they don’t have a treatment for whatever lightning shaped scar is going up his neck, and around his side, it seems it’s spreading.

“This damn thing is gonna kill me.”

“It should’ve already killed you.” Cor reiterates. The Lucii usually stood by their word. Yet it seemed Nyx completely ignored it.

“At this point I’d rather you just do me in and we be done with this.”

“Don’t say that.” Cor remarked.

Nyx just goes quiet, and listens to his command, and Cor is troubled by that response.

For a while things get better, Cor stops by Meldacio, where Nyx has settled down, and he’s there more than a few times. Nyx can get up on his own, usually carry something like a glass of water in his hand, but nothing too heavy, he’s still learning how to dress himself with one hand.

There is some point where Cor is sitting on the porch with Nyx, and nobody is around, because everyone is working, and Nyx has faced that reality that he cannot help, and that the most he can do is stay out of there way.

“When will you just do it?”

Cor leans forward on the railing and rests his forearms on it. He watches some of the refugee children playing around by the scientist.

“I just got here Nyx.” Cor murmured. He takes out a crumpled pack of smokes, and offers one out to Nyx, and Nyx takes it, and lights it with a flame produces from his own palm. The King’s magic still flows in him.

“How’d he deal with it?” Nyx asked, grey exhaling and immediately taken by the cold Meldacio wind.

“Who?”

“Whichever.”

Nyx meant ‘King Mors or King Regis’

“Neither of them really dealt with it.” Cor remarked. “Their affliction was not nearly as severe as yours.”

Nyx’s hair was half grey now, and it was just long, like Gladiolus’s hair, nobody knew how to do the braids he wore, so Nyx just let it grow. He’s wheezing a bit while he smokes, but it’s nothing he worries about.

“How much are you banking on this cigarette killing me right now?” Nyx asked, holding the slightly bent cigarette up.

“I’m hopeful.” Cor replied. He sees an amused smile on Nyx’s face. Cor looked out again, seeing the kids had kicked the ball away, and were out of earshot.

“You don’t wanna go home?”

“Home where?”

“Galahd.”

“Like this?” Nyx points at himself, the ashes are closing in around half of his face, and the left side of his body is spreading that burn. “Nah. I’m not the person I want to come back as.”

Cor nods. He smokes. Nyx does too. No matter what, the damn thing just wont kill Nyx on the spot. So he figures he’ll have to do it himself.

Cor Leonis leaves Meldacio three days before Nyx Ulric dies.

He packs everything up, and takes a few of Nyx’s things, although nobody knows why. Nobody knows the will that isn’t written down on paper but told to Cor by word of mouth. The kukri to return to Nyx’s father, the pictures, the uniform -- there’s not much Nyx has left, but what is left he gives to Cor. In life they knew each other so little, but in death Cor has carried on Nyx’s whole life.

Cor returns as quiet as he can. He returns at night after curfew, when all the lights are off, and Nyx has left the back door open as instructed. He never told Nyx what day he would return. So Nyx had to just trust to leave the door unlocked. Cor is quiet in his entrance. Nyx is asleep. The scars are driving deeper towards his eye. He heard someone say Nyx seemed to be going blind in his left eye.

He’s peaceful, barely snoring, his house is empty, there’s a big bowl of Duscaean oranges someone must’ve brought over, and some of Ezma’s meat pie. Cor doesn’t linger in the house long, he’s just checking the rooms for other people. If someone is here, he will postpone it. He checks the couches, the bathroom, the closet.

Nobody is here.

Cor lets out a long sigh.

“I can’t take it anymore.” Cor watches Nyx throw something to the ground, something useless, a CD, it smashes into a dozen pieces, and he’s continuing to fall apart, shuddering, he can’t even throw anything because he’s choked up. “I can’t live like this. I can’t die like this. Don’t let it take me. Marshal. Cor. It hurts so much I can’t take it anymore.”

Cor watches him fall to the floor, catching himself on his only remaining hand. Nyx is coughing, out of breath and wheezing, and he watches on, unblinking, unmoving. Nyx slowly collects himself in shuddering breath.

“Don’t. Don’t look at me. Just watching me die.” Nyx whispered, and Cor saw beads of tears forming, running down his face. “Everyone else is just watching. Just. Staring... I can feel it in here.” Nyx touches his left side. “My lung... it’s hurting to breathe. I don’t know when it’ll come but I just want it to stop.”

Cor knelt down, grasped Nyx’s hand, and squeezes it very hard. He looks the Glaive in the eye.

“What do you want me to do?”

Nyx is silent for a long long time. They both know. They just don’t want to say it.

Nyx struggled at the pillow, trying to hit, maim, fight back-- but he sees Cor, eyes wide, shock floods his features, and Cor covers his face with the pillow fully. Seeing Cor for just that one second, Nyx relaxes.

Curfew is at 10 pm. Sometimes someone comes over to help me get dressed or eat or whatever, they usually leave, but sometimes they stay the night, if you see anyone else, just leave, okay?

“It’ll be suspicious if they see me here. I should leave Meldacio before then. That way it’ll be harder to figure out.”

Right... I don’t want you to get caught -- oh, my stuff, my stuff you should take it. I’ll make some shit up, just... take it somewhere. So they can mail it or something.

“... Does it really hurt that much, Nyx? The Lucii...”

Enough that I to want to die.

No response.

Even like this, Nyx must’ve had some damn good lungs because Cor swears it takes hours to strangle him. It was really about six minutes. Nyx claws uselessly with his right arm, and Cor realizes what he is trying to do.

So Cor reaches for his hand, and grabs it, and squeezes it, and pets the back of his hand with his thumb, and with his other arm, Cor leans all his weight onto the pillow he has covering Nyx’s face. Nyx’s hand squeezes his own tightly, feeling someone there, someone anchoring him to the world, and then to never be anchored again, and Nyx is somehow able to relax.

Do it now, do it now just kill me --

“Nyx, please, someone will hear you.”

It’s happening again. The pain it, it, it’s gonna -- 

Nyx seizes up before anyone can do anything. He seizes to the pain and it stays lingering for an hour, and Cor watches, in some muted horror he watches that pain posses the man, unable to do anything, his whole body is frozen and then spasming the next moment. He can’t even breathe. They’re in the presences of other people, and the medical team rush over, help him breathe, keep him alive -- and Cor wants to fight them off and tell them to let him go. It is like this every couple of days, and it gets worse every single time.

Cor holds that weak warm hand until it starts to grow cold. He sits by Nyx’s bed, looking over him, the figure of a man who had done so much. He reaches into the nightstand, and contemplates taking those dogtags, but Cor decides against it. It’s better they stay here, in Meldacio, they can die with him. Cor holds Nyx’s hand, and speaks to him.

“Nyx. Can you hear me?”

He is not even moving. Cor reaches out, holds his hand over Nyx’s nose and mouth. Nothing. Cor turns him over face down in the bed, and folds the blankets over him.Cor feels his pulse.

Nothing.

The nights in Meldacio grow long.

[juliafortis]

glaiveblood started following you

“Uncle Nyx!! Mama said when she’s reeeaaallly old you’re gonna be waaay older!”

[galahdanblade]

GUYS ....

... just sayin.

[luxarcum]

For every bath you take, I will buy you a whole cake.

“I can just steal a cake!”

[youngrevolutionary]

@glaiveblood // boo

Congratulations, Ulric. You managed to crash Seifer.exe, would you like to reboot?

[meldacioxhq]

@luciancityguard @littlexsisterxulric @glaiveblood