In the absence of other things since I don’t feel like drawing much (even though I still have a nice amount of requests), have an old thing I drew a week or so ago. I’ve found out the Cor and King Regis ship is called “corgis” so…the king with short dogs.
Big shout out to @jennerationnext for being my fresh pair of eyes, and to @destatree, @heyjealousyyy, and the lovely babes over on the word sprint channel on the FFXV Content Creator Discord for being super supportive while I cranked this out today after sitting on it for nine months. Yikes.
A smile spread across Cor’s face and he recalled the last few days he had spent training Prompto. The request for him to join the Crownsguard came suddenly. Even Regis had been taken aback by Noctis’s “formal” demand. He could have questioned why Regis had granted him the permission he sought so easily, but it wasn’t hard to assume it was the least he could have done to appease his otherwise bitterly angry son.
Also per Noctis’s request was that Prompto use a gun as opposed to a close combat weapon. His excuse was that Prompto was the best shooter at the arcade and would be able to watch his back in battle, but everyone knew that it was because the prince wanted to keep him as far away from immediate danger as possible for as long as he could. Prompto hadn’t protested. On the contrary, he delighted at the idea of shooting a gun, as though holding one in his hands and pulling the trigger was natural.
Of course, Cor would have liked more time to train him; there were too many things he needed to teach him in such a short amount of time, but he did what he could with the time he had been given. Luckily, Prompto was a quick study. It didn’t take him long to master calling upon his weapon from Noctis’s magic, and he picked up on basic combat techniques with ease. Still, there was more to fighting than the bare bones, and he could only hope that Prompto would take the little things he’d taught him growing up and be able to apply them further.
“How observant of you,” Cor teased lightly, and for a few seconds, he felt like the fifteen-year-old kid again, teasing the geezer of the group, “but your insight has gone foggy, old man.”
“I’ll slap some insight into ya,” Cid huffed, puffing his chest out defensively, and Cor couldn’t help the cocky twitch of his lip at his comrade’s bitterness. This was going to be good. He allowed a bit of anticipation to hang in the air before his lip curled into the faintest of smirks.
“He’s the infant I rescued on the Niflheim mission twenty years ago.” Cor paused, allowing the shock to register on Cid’s wrinkled face before he continued. “He also was to be engaged to the crown prince.”