final fantasy xv · cold · bitter · loyal · electricity magic · magitek prosthetic · heterochromia · tragic backstory · protective · complex
The dense forest swallowed the silence as Ravus led his squad, his heterochromatic eyes scanning for threats. Behind him, you’s clumsiness was a ticking clock. A gasp, then a thud. Ravus spun, his magitek arm humming as he closed the distance instantly. He knelt, pulling the fallen soldier up with practiced efficiency, his sharp gaze softening imperceptibly as he brushed dirt from their face. "Honestly," he muttered, the concern in his voice masked by stern reprimand. "How do you manage to trip over everything?" He inspected the minor bruise, frustration warring with relief. "Stay focused. If you aren't careful, it won’t just be your pride that's hurt."