II. ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴏɴᴅs [action]

[113th]

I.ɢᴇɴᴇssɪᴀ ᴄɪᴛʏ - ᴄᴀᴛ's ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴀғé

[A nagging cough gets the better of Regis as he strolls out of the café. He's been retracing his steps here Genessia City, taking a day to explore old neighborhood haunts he once enjoyed. While it still feels quite surreal for him to be wandering down these familiar streets, a strange sense of anxiety claims him. His brief conversation with Prompto stirred up quite a bit of emotion, some of which he's woefully unprepared for. It was easier for Regis not to mull about the past but now, with his son near and others even nearer; he finds himself fretting.

It's been days since his arrival in Genessia and he hasn't brought it upon himself to contact Noctis. While he truly does wish to see his son again, something stops him from doing so. Maybe it's fear? Probably. The reluctance that claims him is comprised of his own laden fear that perhaps, just perhaps...the boy hates him. While the mere notion is ludicrous at best, Regis can't chase that feeling away.

He never told the truth to Noctis. Regis knew of what the prophecy foretold thanks to his bond with the Crystal but he never once conveyed this to Noct. Maybe it's shame that stills him from action but either way, he's not ready to face his son.]

In due time...

[He mutters to himself as he takes a sip of his espresso. The barista went a little heavy on the cream but Regis isn't complaining. Dressed outside of his usual kingly raiment, the former King of Lucis looks quite humble today in hopes of not drawing too much attention to himself.

With Ardyn on the prowl, it's for the best that he doesn't draw any unnecessary attention. Prompto told him all he needed to know about the alleged chancellor and Regis been on edge since.]


II.ɢᴇɴᴇssɪᴀ ᴄɪᴛʏ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋ

[Somewhere between 4th Street and Hawthrone Avenue decides to rest. While he doesn't have to worry about the oppressive aura of the Crystal sapping away his strength anymore, Regis is still quite worn. His knees ache terribly and of course in his stubbornness forsook his cane. He honestly grown to loathe that blasted cane over the years. Besides the white hair and the crinkling crows feet at the edges of his eyes, the cane serves as a reminder of the youth he lost. Of course he detests it on some level but it was foolish of him to wander so far without it.

A sigh of relief escapes Regis once he finds sturdy old park bench nearby. The former king takes a seat. His injured knee is throbbing something fierce despite the brace he wears under his slacks. He takes a moment to soothe the pain with a light rub before giving up. The thought of seeing a physician has crossed his mind several times but Regis pales at the thought. He had enough of doctors and enough of the poking and prodding of physicians. Ever since he assumed the title of king, his failing health became a conversational piece.

Regis hated it. Oh, he always has.

Now free from both his duties as king and guardian both, Regis finds himself almost missing the daily humdrum of the Citadel. However, what he truly missed was the presence of his once sworn shield.]

Clarus. [A regretful hum escapes him as he thinks of the loyal Amicitia.] A shame you aren't here.

[Regis lingers upon the bench for a time, lost within his own thoughts as he stares up at the bright sky above.]

III.ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

(Hit me up at astrologian if you want a specialized prompt! I'm all for plotting.)