Raise a Glass [OPEN]

[lordshield]

Who: The XV Cast and You!
When: June 6th
Where: Curti Center, Jiminy's Juicery (bar)
What: After saving innocents from the Dream Width, some people just need a drink.
Warnings/Notes: Alcohol consumption, possible violence, whatever people do in bars.

Their first foray into the search and rescue business in the Dream Width had been intense, to say the least. Stressful, heartbreaking, exhausting, and enlightening were other words some might use to describe the experience. After a night of rest and a day to somewhat sort things and people out, the next evening brings about a mighty need to head to the local tavern. Some drink to forget, some drink to remember, some drink to relax. There are even representatives of the Bard's Guild providing live music. You can try to make a request, but chances are they don't know your foreign songs.

Maybe you were invited by one of the excitable young men from Lucis, or maybe you came on your own. There's enough room in the bar for quite a few people, so long as they're of age. Sit right at the bar, or pull up chairs around a table, the choice is yours.

[OoC: Make your own toplevel or tag around. Please put content warnings as necessary. Have fun!]

Comments

III.

[sonoftenebrae]

[Ravus has already been through a cycle of emotions by this point, and he's exhausted and drunk and tired of feeling a Lunafreya-shaped hole inside of himself.

So when he hears Gladiolus Fucking Amicitia, regaling the bar of his exploits at the next table over, and waving his damned massive arms around and turning his gruff charm on his onlookers, Ravus drains his glass and stumbles over.]

Amicitia. You. Should shut your mouth. [Ravus is focusing more on speaking deliberately than delivering a witty retort. He never lets himself get this drunk, and this is why.]

If you weren't. so busy. gal-galliv-camping everywhere... [His brain fails at the words, instead helpfully supplying him a mental picture of Lunafreya and Noctis lying still, side by side, Ignis collapsing after protecting his king. He loses the train of thought and starts again.]

...you're no shield.

[hashtagdaddy]

[He's in the middle of telling the story about their group swimming by some Catoblepas in Alstor Slough on Chocobo-back when a certain someone Prompto leaned too far to get a picture and fell in and almost misses Ravus' approach.

The Tenebraen Prince looks as drunk as Gladio feels, but apparently alcohol makes Ravus even more of an asshole considering his words.

He grits his teeth and glares, shooting up from the table to glare broadswords. This story-telling is all he can do to keep up a good mood because after what Ignis said to him, he just wants to punch everything he sees into dust. But tonight is supposed to be about getting drunk and trying to forget the bad shit. Doesn't matter that he literally just found out about said bad shit.]

Y've got one chance t' take that back. [The words are a slurred growl, filled with the anger that's been simmering since Ignis talked to him.]

[sonoftenebrae]

[Ravus' eyes slowly follow Gladiolus as he stands -has he always been this tall?- unapologetic and scowling. Take it back? Never. He leans forward to poke a metal finger into Gladiolus's broad chest.]

Where were you. In Altissia. When they needed you? [He is far too drunk to concern himself with who remembers what and who comes from what time. If Gladio had been there, perhaps things would be different.]

That snake, Ardyn. Drew near under your guise. You should never have left your king's side. [C'mon, you hulking behemoth, you want this fight as much as Ravus does. Make him feel something other than loss.]

[hashtagdaddy]

[Gladio wants to rip off that sad excuse for an arm (it's probably just fine for a prosthetic, but compared to the Magitek one Ravus sported at home the one he wears now may as well be made of plastic) and for about two drunken seconds, he really considers it.

Having just learned about most of what transpired when the group reached (reaches?) Altissia, the Shield knows exactly what Ravus is talking about and has been trying to bury his devastation and guilt in more booze and hearty tales of better times.

The stab of guilt piercing him morphs rapidly into anger and that rage fuels Gladio. Eyes blazing with fury, he swiftly snags a fistful of Ravus' shirt and tugs him uncomfortably close so he can snarl directly into that stupid, uncomprehending face.]

Fuck. You. [This close, he can see Ravus' eyes clearly - the two different colored orbs as stunning as they are accusatory - and Gladio immediately reels back, keeping his grip on the Pompous Ass's shirt.

He pivots away from the suddenly-empty table and slams Ravus against the nearest wall hard enough to rattle some of decorations hanging on it.]

Th' hell is your problem? Y'just can't leave anythin' alone, can you? Fuck where I was, I shoulda been there n' I wasn't because I trusted my King. Followed his orders when I should've ignored 'em. That what you wanna hear? [Each word is growled, low and harsh, and Gladio punctuates each question mark with another push-slam of the infuriating man against the wall.]

Makin' you feel better, asshole? [A dangerous sneer curls his lips.] But I wasn't the only one not there, was I? Where were you when your sister needed you? [That's right, Gladio, make him hurt even more. Throw his sister's death in his face in your anger.

He pulls his free hand back and makes to punch Ravus square in the face, but some force compels him to instead drive his fist into through the wall right next to it instead.]

[sonoftenebrae]

[Ravus lets himself be dragged close, nose to nose with Gladiolus, and then get slammed against the wall and pinned there by him. That was the point of provoking Gladio- to hurt and be hurt, to seek out punishment for his failure, to trade memories for bruises for the rest of this damned night.]

You're as much a failure as your father was. [He hisses out the words, his head cleared by the pain of those shoves against the wall and the adrenaline pumping through him.

The mention of his sister, as soon as it leaves Gladiolus's cruelly smiling mouth -he's never looked more like Ardyn, is Ravus' last coherent thought- drives all thought from his mind completely. There is only wild berserker fury, and while Gladio's fist goes through the wall, Ravus' flesh hand seizes at Gladio's throat, bypassing the flimsy collar of his tight-stretched excuse of a shirt for a more secure grip on the bastard. He balls his magitek fist and drives it into Gladiolus' side, ignoring the stab of pain it sends to his shoulder as the imperfectly integrated arm transfers the shock of the impact to the scarred flesh to which it was mounted.]


How dare you! I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you, [he pants, unaware of what he is saying in his rage. The Curti Center doctor had warned him to be very careful of the arm and to use it sparingly until he could get a properly fitted one in Myste Aura, but all consideration for the tech or for the nerves in his arm are completely gone. Ravus draws the arm back to punch again, for no reason other than it is his best and only way to really hurt Gladio the way he deserves to be hurt for what he said.]

[hashtagdaddy]

[How dare this son of a bitch call his dad a failure?! The moment his fist breaks through the wall and Ravus' hand rises to grasp his throat, Gladio bares his teeth and tucks his chin enough that the grip isn't perfect.

He barely feels the hit to his side, rage and alcohol working in a wonderful tandem to dull the physical pain, and he huffs out a snort when Ravus starts panting death threats. As if this pitiful excuse for a man could take him on now - Gladio might have heard some terrible news today but he's still in peak physical condition (excluding the drunkenness) and he refuses to allow Ravus to keep the upper hand.]

Better men th'n you h've tried n' failed. [Further ducking his head and lifting up his shoulders, he works to dislodge the hand around his throat while using his free hand to reach for that damn metal arm. With the hand still gripping Ravus' shirt, Gladio hoarsely roars and gifts Ravus with another pull-slam into the wall as he finally finds a grip on the prosthetic.

Muscles swell and ripple as he begins pulling at the arm while putting as much weight into keeping Ravus pinned as he can. He's going to rip that damn thing off and beat him with it.]

Th' truth hurts, dunnit. [The words are barely audible, almost lost in the heaving breaths and rumbling grunts as he works to tear arm from shoulder.]

[sonoftenebrae]

[Red drops being to seep through the white fabric of Ravus' coat at his left shoulder where his blows tore open old scars. He groans in pain and frustration as this fucking gargantua of a man literally disarms him, ripping at the arm until the final strap on the harness snaps and the limb separates.]

You don't...deserve to live... [He surrenders his tenuous grip on Gladiolus' throat to strike out at Gladio wherever he can reach, pinned though he is. Since the brute is bearing his weight, he kicks out as well. It's nowhere near the damage he could do with his sword in hand back home, and the Shield's hide seems harder to pierce than an Iron Giant's. The apparent lack of damage only fuels his anger, driving Ravus to struggle harder to leave some sort of scar on this man. Words, then, what words does he have to bury into Gladiolus' flesh, to make him bleed?]

They. should. have. let. this. accursed. world. die. [He spits through clenched teeth.] There is nothing. in our star. worth Lunafreya's life.

[No you, Amicitia, and certaintly not Ravus.] Noctis, too. His life, traded for yours, his weak, defective shield. All the good die, until only the trash like us remain.

[hashtagdaddy]

[If this were another time and another place, Gladio may have found this whole thing amusing. Not the blood starting to stain Ravus' coat and drip onto the floor - there's nothing adorable about making someone bleed. But watching, feeling Ravus grow more and more frustrated as not a single blow caused anything more than minor discomfort - that is hilarious to him.

With the metal arm limp in his hand, completely torn away from the enraged man still pinned to the wall, Gladio suddenly realizes the fight is pretty much over. Physically, there's nothing left Ravus can do to him and they both know it.]

Weak? Hah, you're the one without an arm. Again. Looks t'me like you're the defective one. [The words rumble out of him as he unceremoniously drops the now-useless arm onto the floor. A mirthless chuckle follows the satisfying 'clank' it makes, Gladio's amber eyes staring directly into Ravus' own heterochromatic gaze.]

They were both better'n that. Better'n us. [Fuck, feelings are coming back. Feelings that aren't rage or blind hatred. And Gladio far too drunk to stop talking now.]

Traded their lives f'r a world that won' understand. An' I failed 'em both. Shloulda been there. Shoulda died instead. [His words get quieter as he speaks, and he leans forward until their bodies press together and they're once again practically nose-to-nose. He's not sure which eye he finds prettier.]

Y'gonna shut up now? Cuz if y'don't I'll shut tha' pretty mouth for you. [Astrals, how the fuck much did he have to drink?!]

[sonoftenebrae]

[The last time Ravus had flown into a rage like this, Ignis had had the good sense to sooth, rather than provoke, until he wore himself out fighting and calmed. Gladiolus, though, keeps poking.

Does he think Ravus doesn't know he's defective now, useless? He was born the son of a matriarchal line, knowing that his sister was doomed to die while he lived because he could never inherit the Oracle's power. That helplessness has hung over him like a shadow since they day the prophecy was confirmed.

He's acutely aware that the battle is over, that in his current state, he never stood a chance. He's going down, but not without one final dig.]

That bastard Arrrdyn had to save you when I bested you. You ran like a dog, tail between your legs. You were never going to be enough to save your king.

[He squirms against Gladio's hold, heart pumping with adrenaline that now has no outlet. Their faces are so close, each panting breath he takes is shared with Gladio.

When he sobers back up, he'll make excuses. The drink, the grief, the pent-up aggression, the utterly foreign sensation of being physically overpowered.

Y'gonna shut up now? Gladio asks, with his smug, infuriatingly handsome face and his hard body shoving Ravus painfully against the wall. He could shut up, and limp home, and keeping replaying those last days in Altissa over in his mind....

Or fuck that.]

Make me.

[Before they can make any more of a spectacle of themselves, the bar's bouncer grabs both of them by their shirts and hauls them apart. The two are propelled, unceremoniously, out the door and into the sidewalk in front of Jiminy's Juicery.]

[[ooc: We can continue this over here.]]