Through Shaded Eyes

World of Ruin Drabble

Summary: Takes place a few months after Distorted Reflections. Loqi is trying to reach a decision on whether to stay in Lestallum, or go back to running from demons. (Aranea is worried for Loqi’s mental health, and Cor is worried the idiot might actually leave)

Loqi focused, depression implied. 

AO3 Link

~~~~

He stared into the darkness, toward Ravatogh, fixating on
the distant point. There was a small settlement that way, or had been. If he
made his way there…

“Loqi?” A hand shook his shoulder.

He turned to face the hunter, who had a strange look in his
eyes. “We’re almost finished loading the truck, and are about to head back.”

He turned his head and looked at the rest of the group,
settling around the boxes and taking their seats for the ride back.

“Right. Coming.”

~

Later on back in Lestallum, Loqi stood leaning against the
side of a building, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Today he’d gone and helped
in the kitchens again. Gifted the young Amicitia with a bolt of cloth he’d
happened across, again. Then ended up going out on an expedition for supplies
with a small group of hunters again. Then returned. Again.

It scared him to think about just how far he’d settled into
a routine here in Lestallum.

This was meant to be temporary. A place to heal until he
could hit the road again. Curse Cor and his stubbornness, but he’d been right.
Loqi knew he’d never have lasted out in the world with his ankle as badly
sprained as it was. Looking back, it also scared him how final he thought that
last rest in the diner was going to be. And just how okay he’d been with the
idea of perishing. Finally, he could rest.

No matter.

He pushed himself off the wall and set out toward the small
apartments that the hunters shared. Perhaps it was time to move on. It’d been
on his mind this past month more than he’d like to admit. As the days passed,
he could feel the tensions around him growing. The only other person who could
be considered a Nif was Aranea, and she was more than welcome due to her past.
She’d abandoned her post in the end, long before the long night set in. She’d
saved people and still went out looking for survivors every chance she got.

But Loqi? He’d been loyal to the last moment, and could do
no more than the next hunter ever since he lost his mech in Tenebrae.

Speaking of the hunters, though they appreciated his skills
when outside of Lestallum, they were starting to look at him differently. Their
faces held something in them he couldn’t decipher, and he didn’t like not
knowing. Were they planning against him? Plotting an accident? It’d be easy to
explain that the former Nif general had gotten himself killed on a mission with
them. It happened all the time. And it would be no more than he deserved after
what his homeland had done.

Better to leave before they could extract revenge, right?
That’s what he told himself anyways.

“Loqi, you keep that frown on your face for too long you’ll
end up with wrinkles.”

He hadn’t been aware he was frowning, but the frown deepened
at the voice.

“Maybe then I’ll look my age.” He replied, stopping and
turning to face Aranea. Think of the devil and all that he guessed. “Something
you need?”

She caught up with him and he started walking with her. “Nothing
much. Just checking in on you I guess.”

She said it nonchalantly, slowly shrugging her shoulders and
keeping her eyes forward. The words rang through his memories, making him
recall back to when he’d first been promoted to general at 17. She’d checked on
him then too. Frequently. She didn’t have a need to before then, considering
she’d trained him. But when he’d first started on his own, she looked in on
him. As much as she liked to pretend that she didn’t care for people, she cared
very deeply. Especially for those younger than her.

He recalled reading her file one night when he’d still been
new, and saw that it mentioned a younger brother very briefly, and only in the
past tense. He knew better than to bring it up. (And he would never allow him
to voice how he found it touching that she did care that he’d been a kid when
first facing war.)

“We’re far from the empire Aranea. You’ve no need to keep up
with me.” He said, just as nonchalantly as she did. He knew it was mean of him,
to dismiss her way of showing she cared so easily. “Training was a long time
ago.”

What he didn’t know was that it would cause her to smack him
in the back of the head. It was hard enough to smart, but not enough to cause
actual harm.

“Ow.” He glanced at her with a glare, which she met with a
glare of her own.

“And you know that I don’t just check on people because we shared
a birthplace.” She stopped in her tracks and he did the same. “I’ve seen the
looks you’ve been getting on your face. It was the same that day you lost your
mech.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing what she was referring to, and
sighed, “Fine. I’ve been doing well.”

“Don’t give me that.” She huffed and then started walking,
faster than he could keep up thanks to her height, “I’m not the only one who’s
noticed you know. Now, normally, I wouldn’t even be saying anything, because I
don’t really give a crap what you do…”

Liar. He knew she cared, but he didn’t see why. There were
more important things after all.

“But even the immortal is worried.”

He couldn’t keep the surprised look from his face. “What
would Cor be worried about me for?”

“We all see it Fluff.” She leveled a stare at him, and
waited for him to catch up with her stride.

“Don’t call me that.” He muttered, a small flush finding its
way onto his cheeks. She hadn’t called him that since he’d been a recruit
training under her.

“You’ve been thinking of leaving, haven’t you.” She said it
as a statement, not a question.

He gave her a small shrug and continued walked toward the
apartments without her. “If I am, it wouldn’t be a large loss. Might even boost
moral.”

“Hey.” She easily caught up with him and grabbed his arm,
stopping him from walking further. He didn’t meet her eye. “Don’t say that.”

He remained silent, but allowed a sigh. She in turn gave a frustrated
growl and grabbed both his arms, turning him to face her. And he allowed it.

“I looked for you, you know.” She began. “After Tenebrae.”

He glanced up at her, trying to gage if she was telling the
truth.

Tenebrae was a mess. The empire had been falling apart, and
he’d been on his way back to Gralea to see if he could save his home, but was,
by chance, forced to stop there. Daemons attacking civilians, the manor still
burning out of spite he assumed, and Aranea in the middle of it, trying to get
as many people as she could on her airship. It’d been a battle with the light
dying as it was. He couldn’t leave her there, and he was proud to say he helped
turn the tide. But then…

His mech blew up. Again. For the last time, because there
had been no repairing it. The thought was an embarrassing one, and he couldn’t
help the cringe. Aranea took that for guilt, because of what had happened
after.

“When I’d saw you there, your eyes. They were as distant and
as tired as they are now. You’d told me you were heading to Gralea, even though
we both knew at the time that the capital was lost, and going there was a death
sentence.” She lightly shook him then, trying to pull him out of his thoughts. “But
then you fought and vanished, and all I could find was your armor. …I sincerely
thought you’d let yourself die, or became a demon.”

Her voice was hard by the end, and barely contained the
emotion she was trying to suppress. As if she was trying to hide that he’d made
her morn him.

“Aranea…” He looked up at her.

Not even the astrals wanted me, was a thought that he kept
to himself, and he quickly shook his head, trying to rid himself of the notion.
If he let himself think like that, he’d definitely end up in a cycle of
thoughts that were better left not being thought.

“You’re not leaving. And if you do, I’ll come and hunt you
down and bring you back, because what you’re doing isn’t…It’s not right.” She
released him then. “That’s all I wanted to say. Because today you…Well to be
honest you look horrible Fluff.”

“Yeah yeah, thanks.” He muttered, and crossed his arms. “So
what should I do. Because I’m clearly not welcome here. You’ve seen their
stares Aranea.”

“You idiot, they’re staring because they’re worried.” She
pressed her fingers to her eyes as if she was fighting off a headache. “Just…remember
what I said. If you do leave, I’m hunting you down, and I’m sure Leonis will
come along too considering he brought you back here the first time around.”

With that she turned and left, as if leaving him with his
thoughts was a good idea. However, he didn’t blame her. She never liked talking
about emotional things, and hearing that she looked for him, out of all the
people in the empire, was an emotional topic. With any luck, she’d go have a
few too many drinks with Biggs and Wedge, and he’d have a head start on getting
lost in the darkness again.

If he left.

A huff of frustration left him and he went inside to his
shared apartment. Now, he was doubting that he wanted to leave, which was new.
It was forcing him to confront the fact that when he felt like this, tired,
drained, exhausted, he’d left where he was for somewhere dangerous. As a 14-year-old,
he’d formally joined the army. As a 16-year-old, he’d trained under Aranea on
some of the most dangerous ops. He’d put his own name up for general at 17, and
got it because he was driven and willing to take smart risks. In his 20s, he
led his own ops at the front lines, not to mention the countless times he’d
thrown himself practically on Leonis’s sword. Tenebrae. Now.

“Damn it.” He muttered under his breath, and practically flung
himself on his bed. Once there, he took his pillow and placed it over his face
to block out the world. When he felt like this, he left. It was just what he
did. (Never mind that he usually left for dangerous situations. That was
something he wasn’t ready to think about, due to what is might suggest about
himself.)

But did he actually want to leave?

It was just his luck that a familiar voice suddenly cut
through his thoughts.

“If you’re trying to smother yourself, I’m sure there are
more efficient methods than a pillow.”

A sigh that bordered on a groan left him and he took his
pillow off his head to look up at the man looming by his bedside. “Marshal.”

“Aranea seemed…disturbed. I believe her words were, you go
talk some sense into that…” He paused and then considered his words before
continuing. “…Well, I don’t really care to repeat what she called you.” He
looked down at Loqi with a raised eyebrow, “But I do know that if she
personally asked me to talk to you, it must be serious.”

With that, Cor sat on the bed opposite of Loqi’s own bed,
and remained silent, as if waiting for Loqi to speak. To which, Loqi only
offered his trademark glare toward him, and stared.

After a few moments of silence, Cor sighed, “So…I take it
the rumors of you wanting to leave are true?”

“Rumors?” Loqi sat up, and he could feel a headache started
to keep up on him, “What rumors.”

“People are wondering about you. They say after every
mission you stare into the distance. It takes them longer and longer to get
your attention. They’re worried that one day, you’re just going to wander off.”
He paused to observe Loqi’s face, which was staring at him with wide eyed
horror, “You’re not aware you’re doing it.”

No, he wasn’t. But now Aranea’s words about the hunter’s
being worried made sense. Was that what was behind the looks they’d been giving
him? Worry? He turned away and stared at his feet. He never used to be so
transparent, he’d like to think.

“Loqi, I’m aware that you came here reluctantly, but that
doesn’t change that you did come. And when you did, no one questioned it. They
welcomed you.” Cor continued staring at him, and it made him feel smaller than
he’d like. Cor’s eyes seemed like they could read him and everything about him
with a glance, and to have him stare at you for any amount of time was
disconcerting. “You are welcome here Loqi, regardless of whether you think so
or not.”

He got up then, and placed his hand on Loqi’s shoulder,
causing him to look up at him. “If you do decide to leave, come talk to me
first. That’s all I ask.”

He squeezed once, and then left Loqi alone again. Once of
Loqi’s hands reached up and rested on his shoulder where Cor had touched him.
Honestly, he was being touched a lot today, at he didn’t know what to make of
that. He sighed again, and laid back down, curling up to face the wall. At
least Leonis had kept it short.

He closed his eyes, deciding that he wouldn’t leave. For
now, he’d stay. Just to see if what Aranea and Cor said was true.

Distorted Reflections

Or, Cor accidentally adopted a Nif general oops. 

1705 Words ~ General

Note: Had a 3am thought and ended up thinking about it too hard. Basically a what if scenario of Cor and Loqi meeting during the world of ruin in it’s early years, with Cor reflecting on just why he never actually finished off Loqi. I think on some level Cor became fond of him, and then my brain came up with reasons why. The main one being that Cor saw himself in Loqi. And of course I started thinking about Loqi having been a youngster when he joined the army, because he’s in his early 20′s canonically, and being discovered as a sword prodigy as well. Difference between them being Cor outgrew his hotheadedness. Loqi didn’t. 

Honestly, this was completely self indulgent. (I’m actually a little pleased that this week has been oddly productive for me.) 

Enjoy.


Cor looked down at the sleeping man. He was slumped against the wall of the diner, hidden behind the far end of the counter. His knees were curled up to his chest with one arm wrapped around them. Likely, he’d wake with a crick in his neck from his position. His other hand was wrapped around the hilt of his katana loosely, the grip slackened with sleep. The armor that the brigadier normally wouldn’t be caught dead without was nowhere in sight. Abandoned for more practical clothes now that the endless night called for stealth. Especially for people like him who refused to flee to safety.

He’d changed since the last time he’d seen him. Gone was the
patronizing hostility that was usually so present on his face, and instead
there was a weariness that even sleep wouldn’t erase. Dirt was smudged on his
cheeks from the time he’d been on the road, and he looked like he’d lost
weight. A sigh left him when the thought of Loqi being just a kid crossed his
mind again.

A kid that had tried to kill him multiple times, but still.

The first time he’d tried it, he remembered the bravado that
Loqi had when he’d leapt into the fight. A tiny teenager shouting about ending
the ‘great immortal’ for the empire. While someone, likely his handler, was
trying to shush him and talk him out of what was a bad idea. It had made for a
surreal experience. But then Loqi had actually attacked. And to his surprise, he’d
been good with the blade. More so than Cor might have been at that age.

…That didn’t mean that Cor didn’t flatten him though.

When the kid had been beaten down to the point of collapse,
he had clearly expected Cor to end him. With how he was curled up against the
wall right now reminded him of then. He’d been on his knees, his hand holding
the hilt of his sword tightly. He was slightly slumped forward, but that didn’t
stop him from trying to glare a hole through the Marshal’s head. The sword had probably
been the only thing holding him up.

Rather than kill him, as Cor should have considering he was
a Tummelt, he sheathed his sword.

“You shouldn’t charge in so recklessly. That’s the quickest
way to be killed.” He said. He’d left then, ignoring the profanities directed at his
back.

He later found out that Loqi had only been 15 in that first
encounter. The knowledge had made Cor reflect on his own life at that age. 

Honestly, the handler had reminded him of Regis and Clarus, always trying to
talk Cor out of picking a fight. Headstrong. Too headstrong. The only reason he
wasn’t now was because being that headstrong had caused him to charge into a
fight with Gilgamesh. And that hadn’t ended well for him at all.

At the time, he’d hoped to be the kid’s wake up call. Like
the blademaster had been for him. But no. Over the course of years, they’d
clashed time and time again. Each time Cor left him with a bit more advice than
the last. To his surprise, the kid did seem to take the advice to heart, but
that arrogance was a hindrance. His undoing with every fight.

Why did he give him advice at the end of their battles? Truthfully,
Cor wanted to see him reach his potential. Curiosity killed the cat and all. But
then he’d switched to those mechs, and it became rare for them to cross blades.
Cor didn’t want to admit it, but he’d wished that he’d been born in Insomnia.
Such talent was wasted in those mechs.

A small snore startled him out of his thoughts.

Loqi had slightly shifted in his sleep and his face was now
completely pressed against the wall. Cor sighed and then crouched down to his
level. He observed him, trying to guess how he’d react to being woken, and
decided to take the chance. His hand came to a rest on Loqi’s shoulder and
lightly shook him until he stirred.

His eyes opened in a daze and it took him a moment or two to
fully wake up. And once he did his hand tightened around his sword. Before he
could draw it out of its sheath, Cor halted its progress by laying his hand on
the base. The glare he shot at the Marshal would have sent lesser men running,
but Cor only returned the stare with a flat look. He half expected Loqi to
start another long-winded speech about killing him.

However, after a moment of staring each other down, the
fight suddenly went out of Loqi and he settled with a huff of annoyance. It was
strange to see someone who had once been so lively in such a muted state.
Though he did shoot him another surly look, as if offended Cor was breathing
the same air as him.

“…If I was a demon you’d be dead.” Cor said quietly,
breaking the silence.

Loqi grunted and closed his eyes, attempting to get
comfortable again. “Good thing you’re not then. If you’re going to kill me,
wait till I’m back asleep. If not, then leave.”

“Not doing either of those.”

One eye peeked back open, “Oh? Why’s that.”

“I’m currently on a hunt for a young kid with sandy brown hair
who some people have seen around here. Runs around with a blade. People are
worried he’s on his own out here.” Cor said, keeping a straight face.

“You can’t be serious.” Loqi hissed as he sat up with a
jerk. Hit a nerve there Cor guessed. The look in his eyes spelled death for
anyone within reach. That only served to amuse Cor slightly. They both knew
that he wasn’t a kid, despite what Cor thought of him.

Cor simply raised an eye brow at him in response. Loqi then huffed
and dropped his head against the wall with a thud. “Well, now you know it’s just
me, so you can go report back to whoever sent you and tell them to stuff it.”

“Not likely. You’d have to tell them yourself for them to
believe that.” Cor stood back up and offered a hand to him.

Loqi frowned and remained where he was. “Right. Because a Nif
walking into the only city left in the world is going to go over so well. You’re
the immortal, I’m sure that title still has some pull. Leave me be.”

Cor had the sudden urge to roll his eyes. Of course he wasn’t
going to make this easy. “Tummelt, you’ve spent enough time out here trying to
atone.”

“Atone for what I believed was right? I’m not out here to atone,
Marshal. I’m here because my chances of survival are higher with the demons
than in Lestallum.” His voice was filled with disbelief at the thought of
atoning for his action with the empire. But a moment of being surprised allowed
his face to shift into an uncertain expression. Had he been so transparent to Cor? 

Then it was gone again, hidden
behind a screen of confidence in his words.

It was almost believable. After all, ever since night had
fallen the empire’s generals had scattered to the wind. Occasionally, people
would catch glimpses of them in the dark. Moving from place to place. Not daring
to risk the Havens in case one of the hunters got it in their head to seek
revenge on them. And some people did blame them for the world ending.

Due to that, over the past two years the people were seeing
less and less of the Nifs. Demons picking them off over time. Some believed it
was only right they’d fall to the aftermath of their actions. Others sympathized
and wished for them to join them, to lend their skills to the survival effort. Loqi
was one such general, people recalling he hadn’t really hurt anyone outside his
orders. Caligo had been the one to fear, among others, and he was long gone.

Another sigh left Cor and he reached down, seizing the back
of Loqi’s jacket collar and lifting him to his feet. A string of curses fell
from Loqi’s lips as he knocked Cor’s hand away, and stumbling as soon as he put
weight on his legs. With a raised eyebrow, Cor simply stared at Loqi, who
refused to meet his eye.

He kept staring until Loqi answered his silent question.

“…Sprained it running from an Iron Giant.” He muttered it
quietly to the floor, but Cor still caught it.

He shook his head. “You’re dead out here if you try and wait
for that to heal.”

As someone who’s speed was his greatest asset, Loqi surely
knew that the moment his ankle had been hurt it meant death.

“And why do you care, Marshal?” Loqi asked with a sigh of
his own, the exhaustion catching up to him once more.

“You’ve grown on me.” Cor said honestly, offering an arm. “Now
come on. You can lean on me until we get to the others.”

“Wonderful.” The amount of sarcasm he forced into the one
word dripped like venom into a beating heart. But he didn’t refuse the help. Rather,
he allowed himself to lean heavily on Cor as they made their way outside.

It was a long walk, one they made in silence and one sided
rude looks, but they eventually came to the small group that Cor had come along
with. Loqi was forced to explain that, no he wasn’t a kid, he was 25 thank you
very much, and yes it was him running around alone. Surprisingly, no one was
openly hostile with him. Rather, when he wasn’t looking, they’d shoot him
pitying looks. He’d been a child when he’d rose through the ranks after all. Who
could blame him for following what he had believed was right?

As soon as they’d secured the truck they’d traveled in and
got on the road, he’d fallen back asleep. Cor on the other hand, stayed awake
and watched the passing landscape, trying to think of a way to explain bringing
an old enemy back with him to Prompto, Ignis, and Gladiolus.

He already had a headache.