bakerstreet | Sentinels and Guides;

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Sentinels and Guides;

Sentinels and Guides Shipping Meme
A Sentinel!AU Meme

There are special people in the world: Sentinels--whose five senses are incredibly enhanced, sometimes to the point of overwhelming and who can easily lose themselves in fugue states--and Guides, the empaths with the ability to ground a Sentinel and focus them. Meant to be the protectors of the Guides, for every Sentinel there exists a guide that is their perfect match. In some universes, when matches are made, a Sentinel and Guide form a soulbond to fill the feeling of emptiness.

How easy was it for you to find yours? How are Sentinels and Guides treated in your universe? Or maybe you're one of the normal, unremarkable people. Do you fear Sentinels and Guides? Despise them?

Rules
1) Post with your character/canon in the subject header.
2a) Choose whether your character is a Sentinel or a Guide
or
2b) If you don't know or don't care, just leave it blank!
3) Information about Sentinels and Guides can be found here and here. Information on 'The Sentinel' which this meme comes from can be found here.

4) All the tagging! Have fun 8D

Prompts
oo1. The Meeting:
How did you meet? Was it at an event organized specifically for finding your other half? By accident? Did you follow a mystical calling to them? Some other way?

oo2. The Bonding:
Do Sentinels and Guides in your universe soulbond? How does it go down? Is there a ceremony or do you just retreat to the bedroom?

oo3. Rejection:
Sometimes Sentinels or Guides propose a match but it's just not perfect. You don't feel the pull or maybe you think there is someone better or maybe you're already claimed. Maybe you were claimed and someone better came along?

oo4. Protection:
Sentinels are meant to protect Guides, any Guides, but it's even worse when they feel their Guide is in danger. They go feral; blind to anything but stopping and killing whoever threatened their Guide or the bond. Maybe someone attacked your Guide or you haven't bonded yet and you feel threatened or maybe you're the one doing the threatening. Whatever the reason, Sentinels in a feral state are dangerous and only their Guides can stop them.

oo5. Lost:
Sentinels often lose themselves in their senses. Either you're a Sentinel who has lost themselves or a Guide that has stumbled on one or a friend trying to draw them out. Unbonded Sentinels will find it hard to escape without a Guide. Or maybe you're bonded already which means you just need yours to come home.

006. Persecution:
Sometimes normal people or the government fear the power of Guides and Sentinels. Guides are empaths, feeling the emotions and sometimes passing thoughts of others and it can make people feel violated. Sentinels often have enhanced strength, which can make them dangerous. So they scorn them, hurt them or in the case of governments, regulate them.

oo7. Death:
Unbonded Sentinels and Guides eventually lose themselves to the empty cavern inside them. Torn apart from the inside by the feeling of something missing. Breaking the soulbond of a Sentinel and Guide is agonizing and horrifying, leading quickly to death for the remaining partner.

oo8. Old-School:
Guides used to be treated on the same level as slaves. Unable to work unless their Sentinel said. Not allowed out on their own. They used to wear collars and couldn't own land or inherit money. Maybe the old ways haven't completely fallen out of style.

oo9. Unbonded:
Nothing is worse than being an unbonded Guide or Sentinel. Always looking for your other half to fill that empty feeling but you probably have friends that aren't your match or who are trying to set you up with someone. Maybe you're skeptical about the whole love at first sight thing and haven't been looking.

o10. Wildcard: Some mish-mash of the above or anything else you can come up with!

Image from weheartit / original meme by

imadeamistake

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[If you've played 15 that's all you gotta rock for this to work. ^_^ I think your idea would work wonderfully, actually. If you want to stick to Gladio still serving 'royalty', easy enough to make Noct a business man's son out of America sort of thing, or I can play him as a free agent... muscle for hire sort of deal, runs into John during... *squint* a case? or if John's just a doctor, needs some medical attention due to fighting? (healer?)]

[I think I can go with doctor/healer back from fighting wars off in far-off countries where he was also used for some of the Sentinel soldiers. Still invalided home, and looking for some greater purpose in his life again after getting shoved out of the service. I'm down for Gladio still serving royalty as Noct's hired muscle.

If you want to go with the medical attention option, I can set us up with a starter in the clinic John's doing rotations at!]

[This sounds like a plan to me, if you want to set it up! ^_^]

John smiles politely at the woman he's just treated for a standard yeast infection as she leaves his clinic room. As soon as she's out of the room, his expression falls, and he can't help sighing and running his hand through his hair. How much more of this? It's a hard enough dealing with his limp and the occasional tremor in his hand--he'd managed to hide that from the hiring manager at the clinic--without being bored to absolute tears by GP work. Not that he could get any proper surgery position, not in his condition.

He could probably go into some sort of clinic working specifically with Sentinels, but that would bring the ever-present risk of someone getting attached and wanting to bond with him. John's managed to suppress that urge, ignore the yawning hole inside him for some 35 years. He's not about to rush into anything, especially not with some random Sentinel he hardly knows.

It's been long enough that he needs to get on with things, though. The doctor pulls up his smile once more and buzzes the intercom. "Ready for the next patient! Send them in, please."

The clinic is designed to accommodate mainly for the regular population. Or as regular as one can get in the more up-scale locales in London. The building has a cheery, welcoming facade, and a spacious waiting room with relatively decent chairs.

Angelica, the receptionist buzzes back. "Sure thing, doctor! Um... just so you know, he's a Sentinel."

John pulls a face. Wonderful. Brilliant. He hadn't actually put it on his resume or mentioned to anyone his status as a Guide. It's not something to advertise.

"I'll be ready if I need to take him," John jokes back, just a little stilted. "Whack him with my cane if I need to. Just send him along." He takes a few breaths and steadies himself in the time it takes for the Sentinel to make his way to the room. The doctor is wearing a bright smile and trying to appear as non-Guide-like as he can... not that it'll help. He can already feel something coming off the man as he approaches.

"Hullo, there! I'm Dr. Watson. What seems to be the problem?"

If there was a man built to be an ideal Sentinel, it very well might be Gladiolus Amicitia. At 6'6" and a few hundred pounds of solid muscle, with an old scar bisecting one eye, he looks like he could wreck most things with one hand. Still, the smile on his lips is casual and he doesn't give off the 'asshole Sentinel' vibe that's all too common among the beefier ones like this. They're usually paired up as it is already though he's still young. Twenty-three is a prime time to pick up Guide, really.

But for Gladio, he really just doesn't worry about it. Oh, he's got the problems most Sentinels do until they fine a Guide or manage to really get it under control - he can go into a nearly complete rage in combat or if something completely pisses him off, he can go into a frustrated mode that takes a long time to come out of, and he can get snappy as hell at times - but he's been the guardian for the Caelum heir his entire life and a damn good one at that, so it hasn't been the issue it could have been.

Still today... today might have been a bit thick-headed on his side, even for him. Hence, being here. He nods a greeting to the doctor, the smile staying. "Hey, Doc. Pleasure to meet you." Easy going enough. "Hoping you can help stitch something up for me."

When he pulls back the leather vest he's wearing over a tank top, it reveals the edges of a towel beneath the tank top around his upper-left chest. "Someone decided I looked like a challenge. I introduced their face into the dirt, but they got one good shot at me in the process." A stab wound, though not terribly deep, was messy.

Even at his peak fitness in his mid-20s, John couldn't hope to compete with this man on sheer muscle. He looks up... and up at the Sentinel, but is relieved to find a sense of peace coming off of him. For now, anyway. He frowns slightly when he sees the wound and gestures for the other man to lie down on a padded examination table. John rises from his little desk, gripping a cane to make the short few steps over.

"Did you tell the front desk you were bleeding? Should've got you into someone immediately." But it is what it is. He reaches for some gloves and snaps those on before going for some gauze wipes. John takes a peek under the towel, wiping away the blood before nodding to himself and pressing the towel back down.

"Stitches, I'm afraid. Looks like a knife... Rusty?" There might be a tetanus shot in Gladio's near future. A part of John just wishes this were the battle field with a few enemy soldiers or monsters around. It'd be a snap healing this with a little elemancy. Not that that's on his resume, either.

The need for the cane isn't missed, but it does surprise him. The doctor's older than him but not that old, reminding him all too well of the King. Injury or disease, maybe? Might be, but he's not about to ask. He gives a snort at the comment about talking to the front desk and lets the doctor see the wound. With the tank top pulled back and the towel briefly gone, the edges of a very large tattoo could be seen but it isn't easy to pick out what it might be. "I can take it. If I'd been worried, there's other places I could have gone, but I'm off duty and this place'll take someone on a foreign insurance." Given the man's decidedly American accent, that would have been an issue at many places.

Gladio rolls his better shoulder. "Didn't get a good look at it, but better to assume it was." That's the sort of tone of someone who had seen a lot of combat, that this isn't even phasing him. "Just another scar to add to the collection, I guess." There's no point in freaking the doctor out, so he keeps his voice light. ...He's not going to talk about the destruction he left behind at that bar, but the one who got him is in way worse off condition. Dressed like this, no one knows who he is other than a large tourist maybe. He's happier keeping it that way.

But the longer he sits here, the more he's starting to pick up on a scent that's starting to bother him. ...No, not bother him. He's not sure, but it's working against his nerves or something, like an itch.

"I hope he's still in one piece... the bloke who attacked you. Was he another Sentinel?" John's seen them go at each other before. He's had to step into the middle of things like that before and play Guide for both to get them to calm down and stop fighting. Does this man have a Guide? No, they'd probably be here with him if he did. Interesting. The Sentinel looks like a catch for any Guide, and he seems nice enough. Bit young, but his sort get snapped up early.

John finds himself leaning closer than necessary to Gladio as he checks the rest of the man over to be safe. He tries to pull back surreptitiously, blinking a few times to clear his head. Now that's enough of that. He's stronger than hormones and instinct.

"Stitches. Right. Let me just grab what I need... I don't think I have your name, sir." It's in whatever electronic chart Angelica sent to his computer when she sent the man in, no doubt, but it's nicer hearing it from people.

"He's still in one piece. Dunno what he was, other than an idiot." Gladio had to be better off than most Sentinels his age if the other guy was still alive and mostly in tact. He had been forced to learn to control his rage given that his charge was a Sentinel in his own right, but even though Noct was a very capable one, it didn't matter. He had his Guide but he was still royalty; they would be protected. Couldn't have them fighting it out, though. Small wonder they had one average man in the group to keep things calm.

Wait... Gladio sniffed at the air, his brows coming together before he looked at the doctor's back, trying to pinpoint what he was smelling. He was already ignoring the pain in his shoulder, so maybe it was messing with his head, but it almost smelled like--

Couldn't be. Imagining shit.

"Sorry 'bout that." Supposed to guard royalty but it looked like his manners had vanished. He could practically hear Iggy snipping at him about it in the back of his head. "Gladiolus Amicitia." The name was blue blood back home but here, it probably wouldn't mean too much unless someone was particular obsessed with what was happening in the States.

John hears that sniffing, he senses the Sentinel's curiosity and confusion. He licks dry lips and clears his throat as he turns back to Gladio. This procedure needs to be done now. Quickly. And he needs to get this Sentinel out of here. There's procedure to be followed, though, and if John lingers over things a little more than he should, it's just to ensure the man doesn't have to come back before he leaves to go home.

"I'm going to give you a mild analgesic, Mr. Amicitia." It's clear from the lack of reaction, probably, that's john has no idea who Gladio is other than some American Sentinel. "It'll numb any pain while I stitch you up. Lie back and get comfortable. This should only be a few minutes. The wound isn't that deep.

John finds himself moving more easily than usual, his leg not bothering him quite as much as he shifts around. His tremor hasn't made an appearance, either. Maybe it's adrenaline. His heart rate has picked up since the Sentinel entered the room.

Edited (Phone tagging) 2017-03-31 14:44 (UTC)

"Gladio." The word comes quick on the heels of the more formal name. "Just Gladio. Mr. Amicitia's my father." He still works to carefully pull off his vest and pull off the tank top without using much of his left arm while the doctor is gathering up what he needs, so when John turns out, he will get all of that shirtless wonder that is Gladio and the eagle curled around his body. This is a man who has seen a lot of combat, if the scars on his body speak of anything.

He lays himself back, as comfortable as he's going to get in a foreign doctor's office getting a wound taken care of. If the others knew about this he'd never hear the end of it, hence why he's here instead of Iggy putting that magic of his to good use. Still, something's making him uncomfortable and it has nothing to do with the wound. The logical part of his mind thinks he's being stupid, just get fixed up and go back to where they were staying in some nice digs and pretend it didn't happen.

But another part of him... it's not even conscious that he's starting to more than leak out the pheromones that Guides can pick up so easily.

John can smell them and he can feel them, his body beginning to respond in kind of its own accord. Bloody hell. It's not usually this bad so immediately, which is strange on its own. John's fairly good at shutting down his Guide nature when he needs to, suppressing his pheromones. He just hasn't had to do it for a while. That's all. Probably. Maybe?

At least the view isn't bad for what he has to do. Focus. Focus and just get it done. "You can call me John, then, Gladio." What? No. No, he can't. John mentally berates himself. He shouldn't be getting that chummy with a patient. It's a bit late to take it back, though.

He hesitates only a moment before forcing himself to stare down at the bloody wound and hone in on it. The urge to guide is growing stronger, just something to relax the other man a little more. He can feel the tension still coming off of him. That continued uncertainty and confusion. John could just... nudge a little bit. It would hardly be noticed.

"Just a little pinch here now." He injects Gladio with the analgesic and bins the syringe before pulling out more disinfectant wipes to carefully remove most of the blood. As he does that, John can't help it. He pushes a little with his own abilities.

It's fine. You don't need to worry about anything. Don't think about it. Just relax. No actual words are communicated, but the sense of them should be.

John, huh? Gladio gives a little grunt of acknowledgement, his mind trying to puzzle all of this out. He's already been out doing what he shouldn't today and he's not going to be happy about keeping this quiet from his friends, but he won't outright lie to them if one of them spots it. It's going to give him hell if he has to fight for the next couple of days which is the thing that's the most frustrating...

But... it could wait, couldn't it? Things had been quiet which was why he was out, anyway. Noct was safe with Ignis and Prompto there, not going anywhere for now, not even to a meeting until tomorrow. He doesn't have anything to worry about until tomorrow...

He unconsciously starts to relax under John's hands, his eyes half closing as his body eagerly communicates back to the Guide, his taste on the air softening, warming, even as it grew stronger. He typically doesn't stick around unbounded Guides very often, and since he wasn't informed about it being an issue when he came in, he's already assumed the doctor is just another average joe and not a rare and often precious Guide. Never mind he can't remember ever hearing about a Guide at this change.

There we are. John finds himself relaxing as Gladio does, just drinking in the sense of him. His own scent grows sharper as he allows himself to give into the urge to guide. Right, content. It's been months. He'd been forbidden from it in rehab, and had consciously avoided it since getting out. His hand doesn't shake and the pain in his leg has receded almost completely.

The doctor works efficiently, metal thread and hooked needle coming out to start stitching the Sentinel up. He does wonder about those other scars, the tattoos.

"So, is the eagle a patriotic thing?" It's an offhand question. John's fairly sure eagles are the American's bird. Bald eagles, not proper ones like he's familiar with.

The eagle on Gladio's chest isn't a bald eagle, though, but it's not entirely a horrible guess. Plenty of Americans do that kind of thing. Gladio, though, gives a brief rumble of a chuckle, his mind relaxed under John's Guidance enough not to think too much on the needle piercing his flesh. Maybe after the tattoo, he doesn't think much of it? It had to have, and did, take countless hours to put on him, after all.

He knows better than to move, but one finger lifts and lowers in a vague gesture as he remains otherwise still. "Nah. Her meaning probably sounds real American though. ...She's about freedom and duty. Eagles rule the sky, fierce fighters... they stand alone." Though, ironic, how he no longer does, in a sense. Still no Guide, but he has his friends and his charge. "Plus, Gloria... she's beautiful." He turns and flashes a smile towards the doctor, knowing it might sound a little ridiculous but it's better than explaining the true emotions behind his choice.

He smiles back, the expression much warmer than the one he'd worn when Gladio had first walked in. "Gladio and Gloria? There's a pair for you. She is lovely. Don't think I could sit still long enough for something like that." John is honestly surprised a Sentinel could, but it might well have come in pieces. There's no way all of that could be done in a day. The artist's hand would have fallen off.

"Any others, or is just that one?" His eyes wander for a moment down past Gladio's chest before snapping back. Focus, Watson. He clears away a little more blood and continues his work. "Not that the one isn't impressive, mind you. Must've cost an arm and a leg."

Edited 2017-03-31 16:05 (UTC)

"Lost count at about the 20th hour. Took about fourteen sessions or so to get her outlined, inked, then filled in when we could work around each other's schedules. I try not to think too hard about how much she cost." He gives another chuckle, not quite realizing he's too relaxed given what's being done to him or what got him into this.

"Just this one. I figured she's enough." His eyes finally close, feeling nothing of what John is doing other than some pressure. "How about you, Doc? Got any of your own?" It's surprisingly easy to talk to this guy. Maybe it's the accent that reminds him a little of Iggy, or just the whole 'good doctor' thing going on. All doctors are supposed to put their patients at ease, right?

But as he takes another breath in, slow and easy, an idea starts to come into his mind, making his brows pinch. ...Could...?

"Nah." John's getting a little too relaxed, himself, letting his instincts run as he works. The guiding will take care of itself to keep the Sentinel at ease now that he's let himself start. "I've seen what those look like on blokes who're well past their prime, mate. Not as pretty as the glory days." And while he's not completely out of his prime, John's well aware he's at the very tail end of it. Really, if he's being honest, the limp has put him past it. The premature graying doesn't help much, either.

"We're almost done here. How long are you staying in town? You'll need to have these checked and possibly removed in about a week. Probably best you don't get into anymore fights while it's healing, either. D'you have a Guide? Or is there a Guide in your party who can help you?"

A part of him is hoping the answer is 'no' to that first question, even if it shouldn't be. He knows what the answer is already, but a 'normal' person probably wouldn't be able to make the leap. And really, it's only polite to ask.

The comment about old men and their tattoo actually gets a real laugh out of Gladio, one he has to try and still so he doesn't mess up the delicate work going on. "Telling me it's going to look back when I'm older?" A bit of a tease, something that the others would recognize but Gladio rarely does around other people. Still, his mind's caught on the thought swirling around it, trying to pick it apart.

"I'll be here for a while." Until these talks were done which is probably too long in all of their minds but Noct has a job to do. It's good, really. Teach him to take over one day. But when the Doctor mentions having a Guide...

His head shifts and looks to John's eyes, his own narrowing before he takes another breath in. "No, I don't," he says quietly. Technically, there is a Guide amongst them; Prompto's a good kid and damn does he try. But.. There is a way to test this, even if it's a little bit cruel. It's not exactly easy to control what he exerts, that's what Guides are for after all, but there's one thing he can do more easily than anything else. It's used to warn other Sentinels into backing off, to make creatures and the average man realize he's the bigger predator, and while it happens all too naturally when he's angry...

He breaths out again and lets it leak out into the room, letting his head fall back while keeping a close eye on the doctor out of the corner of his eye.

The response is near immediate. John's head tilts and his smile fades away as his brow furrows. Anger, aggression, danger. It puts the Guide on alert. Is there another Sentinel? No. That doesn't make sense. A monster? That makes less sense. The defenses around London are very good. Even if some creatures slip in now and again, it's not exactly common, and the hospital hardly seems like the place they'd target. There's no food and better places that concentrate people. Is it something he's said, then? John pushes back.

Calm down. There's no danger. It's just me.

Actively focusing on his guiding means his hands still just a few stitches short of what's needed. "Is something wrong?" he asks. "You seem tense."

This time he feels it. That natural-unnatural slowing of his pulse, the slow untensing of his muscles, the urge to calm the pheromones he's pumping out on purpose. His eyes go wide as he realizes it, trying to figure out why they hadn't mentioned it to him. A Guide? A Guide that works this easily on him! Prompto tries. Kid really tries, but it takes everything in him to bring Gladio down and since he's already Bonded, it fails sometimes because it brings Noct into jealousy when Prompto makes the attempt which only riles Gladio up further. Mostly Ignis just does it the old fashion way.

"Shit," he whispers, liking that sensation so much more than he's willing to admit. "I thought it was a requirement or something-- won't your Sentinel be jealous?"

He knows. He's just assuming all the wrong things.

John's eyes widen as he realizes what's just happened. That was an exceptionally obvious trap, and he fell right into it, the urge to Guide far stronger with this particular Sentinel than anything he's felt in years. Not since Major Sholto, and that had been awkward enough.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He tries to pull back mentally and emotionally as he finishes up the stitches, wipes Gladio's chest clean and moves to switch out his gloves to apply a bandage. Feigning ignorance isn't actually going to work after that little test, but hell if John's not going to at least try. Extracting himself from the pheromones swirling between them and around the room is nearly impossible, though, not to mention there is still a distressed Sentinel and the Guide in him wants to help, is demanding it.

Edited 2017-03-31 17:28 (UTC)

Gladio turns his head and watches John with eyes that, an unusual amber when he came in, are tinged with crimson now from his own 'trap'. He wants to know more about this Guide who's lying to his face, who they didn't warn him about, who's doing what no other Guide has ever done and they've tried many times to find a compatible Guide for him.

"Don't bullshit me," Gladio says quietly, his voice holding a little hint of a growl. "It's obvious what you are. But... why? Where's your Sentinel?" He feels an urge he's only vaguely had for Prompto in the past, but he wouldn't challenge Noct. The need to scent--

His eyes snap open wide and he sits up, not bandaged up yet but completely focused on John.

"You're not Bonded." There's no Sentinel scent in the room and no Sentinel would let their Guide be out alone without reeking of their scent. How- why- in his shock, he isn't even sure what else to think.

John starts to bristle. This is bad. This is getting out of hand. Fine. Fine. The man wants to call him out as a Guide? Well, then. Have a Guide. One who's not afraid to bend the rules of how Guides are supposed to use their skills. "No. I'm not. Now lie down and calm down, or I'll zone you out on the ceiling tiles. I'm not finished." He puts more than a bit of his own ability behind that.

Calm down. Relax.

Ordering a Sentinel around and threatening him with his abilities is something that most Guides would frown at, particularly in a situation where there's no immediate threat of danger to himself or the Sentinel. Not to mention, most Guides would never even consider the possibility of using their abilities offensively like that. It had come in handy for John through the years in the military, though. A couple of bull-headed Sentinels fighting tend to be a lot more complacent when they're hyper-focused on their shoelaces or whatever else John chooses to Guide them to.

Edited 2017-03-31 17:48 (UTC)

Fuck. It's the heavy thought that runs through his mind as he's hit stronger than he can ever remember in his life, and if John's exact command hadn't been to relax he might have actually felt a pang of fear at how easily the other does it to him. Instead, there's the faint glaze that comes across his eyes, not completely zoned out but when a Guide of that strength tells someone to calm down, he calms down. Slowly he does as told, laying down as docile as a kitten but his eyes stay on the Guide.

A Guide, at this age, with no Bond? How... How is that even possible? He's never heard of such a thing. Guides are always scooped up and used where needed the most, sometimes keeping up with several Sentinels if they are strong enough. Maybe... this doctor had been Bonded but the Sentinel's dead? That's a whole lot more likely but...

He can't help but take a deep breath and the faint groan that leaves him at how good it suddenly smells in here. He's equally never heard of a Guide using their abilities like this but it makes sense in a strange sort of way. As strong as a Sentinel. Still, he's not completely bull-headed. He's got a good brain behind that thick skull.

"...you're in hiding." Quiet, a breath out. John smells incredible. Another breath in.

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Really is that tall according to official guides - it is crazy business.

DAMN, boy.

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