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dearlazerbunny · 2 years

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I Made This For You (i hope you like it)

Pairings: Apprentice/Muriel, Apprentice & Asra

Chapter 6 of ?

Summary: You're back from the dead, but all Muriel can think about is all the things that died with you. Maybe finding you all over again is exactly what he needs.

(Non-canon compliant in that Apprentice/Muriel's relationship is established before their death. Apprentice is gender neutral).

*Slight warning for dubious consent as reader is drunk, but everyone is very much on board.

Standing in the woods, charm between your palms, eyes closed and hair waving lazily in the breeze, you’d looked… perfect. Untouched. Like nothing had ever happened, like you’d see him watching you and smile, really smile, and ask him what he’s staring at with that teasing lilt in your voice-

Muriel lets the fire burn down to embers as he lays in his bed, concentrating on nothing but drowning out his thoughts and the ache.

He dreams of better times, where you laughed instead of cried.

When he’d walked you home one night after you’d been drinking at the tavern- that damn doctor, he hates him, he’s a terrible influence- and you were so gone you had to hold onto his arm like a lifeline to even get halfway down the street. Normally he’d just pick you up and carry you, but he was too worried about the state of your stomach to jostle you too much. You moved slowly, both of you tracing your way through Vesuvia’s streets, lampposts shining and the night quiet. You giggled to yourself here and there, happy at nothing in particular, and despite the situation he couldn’t help but smile at you.

“Come on. You need food and bed.”

“Muriellllllllll. I’m fine. I coulda-” you waver slightly, and he grabs your arm to steady you back upright. “I coulda gone two more rounds!”

“Sure.” Your walk continues. He takes the back way; less likely to see any interruptions.

“Where are we going?”

“…the shop?”

You groan and shake your head, ruffling your already messy hair. “Ugh, no, Asra is the worst, he gets all…” you wave your hands around and contort your face into a mock-worried look in what he supposes is your current approximation of your friend. “Just take me home.”

Something thuds in his chest. “That’s where you’re going.”

You sigh dramatically and lean your temple against his arm, looking up at him bashfully through lidded eyes. “No, silly. Home. With you.”

He should take you back to the shop- it’s closer, and Asra will be worried, and you need to sleep this off as soon as possible… but short of the hut being on fire, he doesn’t think there’s any power in the world strong enough to get him to leave you there now. Home. You’d called him home.

You’d been his home long since, even if you didn’t know it- your chest holds two hearts instead of one- but to hear you say it…

He does pick you up once you get to the woods, unwilling to let you trip over a stray root. You laugh and snuggle into his arms like it’s your favorite place in the world to be, and your breath on his chest tickles and teases and makes everything go warm and a little numb. Once he deposits you on the bed, he makes sure the fire is going then sits down next to you, giving you plenty of space to splay out and get comfortable. You give a happy little wiggle and grin up at him. “Much better! Except-”

There’s no way you should be able to pull a man three times your size down next to you as easily as you do, but you’ve always been magnetic. Muriel falls easily, careful not to trap you underneath him, until you’re forehead to forehead, your hands spread against his chest and tracing the few errant scars like you would constellations in the sky. A shiver of goosebumps erupts on his skin, pulled by your fingertips. You glance up. “Are you cold?”

He could lie. But he doesn’t. “No.”

Your brow furrows, clearly trying to work through this new mystery, but when your thumb traces just a bit too close to one of his nipples and his breath catches in his chest, your eyes widen. “Oh,” you whisper, and then you start to explore him more thoroughly than before.

Up and down, every inch of him from his collarbone to the hair decorating the slopes between his hips gets traced with your curious fingers. They’re just rough enough to catch every so often on some delicate curve, and it feels like you’re slowly lighting him on fire. Every part of him is glowing, humming as you trace runes and stars and declarations of love into his skin. Branding him, ensuring no one else would ever get to touch him like you do. Muriel stays perfectly still, tried so hard to be good, to keep his hands at his side and not wander. “Is… this okay?” He nods once, quick, like his nerves will get the better of him if he thinks about it too long. “What about this?” You reach up to cup his cheek, run a finger over his lower lip until its parted just slightly for you. “Or this?” You lean in, clearly intending to kiss him, but he stops you with a hand on your chest.

“Y/N. I can’t…” He looks away and takes a deep breath, steadying himself, feeling his hands clench and unclench. “You’re drunk. But if you keep- I’m not going to be able to say no.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” You’re whispering now, so close he can feel your lips as you speak honey straight into his soul. “What if I want you to kiss me?”

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you want.”

“What if I want your mouth on my neck. What if I want those clever fingers somewhere I can’t reach nearly as well as you could. What if I want you to f-”

“Y/N.” Muriel is floundering, trying to hold together every semblance of self-control he has, because when you look at him like this everything else seems to suddenly either not matter or not exist. “Stop. Before I do something you don’t want.”

Humming, you press him down gently onto the bed until his head meets the pillow, then in one deft move throw a leg over his lap so you’re straddling him. It makes every part of him sing, willing him to move, grab, taste, touch, but he buries his hands in the furs next to him and refuses to give in. “I know about consent, Muri,” you say gently, leaning down to both whisper your message to his ear then give his earlobe a sharp bite, making him groan. “I’m an adult. I get to choose who I want.” Your eyes may as well be pulled from his hearth- they’re blazing with heat and want and a thrill of pride rushes through Muriel knowing that he’s the one that does this to you. “And I want you. I want you so bad Muriel.”

“Y/N-”

You shut him up with a bruising kiss- there’s too many teeth and it’s messy and unexpected- but gods be damned if he doesn’t finally, finally let his hands grab your waist and pull you to him, something rumbling in his throat as you trace his lip with your tongue then bite not so gently. His hands are big enough to wrap his thumbs in the hollows of your hipbones, feel the curve of your ass just beneath his fingers, and when he grips harder those hips buck in response, making him hiss through his teeth. It makes you smile and give another roll of your hips, this time slowly, savoring every inch of him hardening beneath you.

“Is this okay,” you murmur, but now your voice has an undercurrent of a smile, because you very well know what the answer will be, and you’re relishing in it. Again with the smallest of nods- not quite good enough. You lean down and kiss him again, softer this time, and whisper. “I need- I want to hear you say it Muri. Please. Please?” You can’t stop your breath from hitching as both of you move in tandem, knowing exactly what the other wants. But you’ll stop, if he really, really wants you to. He trusts you to see him like this, to watch him fall apart in the most quiet and beautiful way, and that’s not something you wear lightly.

“Yes.”

And that, coupled with the burning look in his eyes and his hands wandering further than your hips, is all the permission you need to lose yourself in him.

A/N: well, partial sexy times. I forgot I hate writing smut, lol. I think there'll be three or four more chapters?

#the arcana #the arcana game #muriel x mc #muriel x reader #muriel x apprentice #muriel x you #muriel #asra #reader insert #non canon #gender neutral y/n #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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dearlazerbunny · 2 years

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dearlazerbunny · 2 years

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I Made This For You (i hope you like it)

Pairings: Apprentice/Muriel, Apprentice & Asra

Chapters: 5 of ?

Summary: You're back from the dead, but all Muriel can think about is all the things that died with you. Maybe finding you all over again is exactly what he needs.

(Non-canon compliant in that Apprentice/Muriel's relationship is established before their death. Apprentice is gender neutral).

“Wait, hold on-” Asra pauses with his hand on the doorknob, turning back to look to look at you curiously as you shove a few more bundles of food into the pack at his side- some jerky, a few chopped vegetables and herbs, nuts you roasted on the stove a few days before.

“What’s all this for? Unless you’re planning on having a picnic with mysterious woodland strangers I’ve yet to meet, this is more than the two of us can eat,” he teases, and you swat him away with a roll of your eyes.

“Every time you go foraging you pack more food than you normally would. Don’t ask me why, you’re the one eating it all!” You stick your tongue out at him as he laughs, and Faust peeks her head out from his collar.

For friend!

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so it’s you meeting mysterious strangers in the woods. Don’t let me interfere with your secret trysts.”

Asra doesn’t respond, just opens the door to the shop and waves you through. You wrinkle your nose at him and step out into the day, turning down the street you know by now will lead you to the edge of the forest. He stays behind you for a few paces, hands wrapped tightly around the strap of his bag, breathing slowly. You can’t even remember him, but you notice him everywhere. Asra does usually pack extra food when he goes foraging- because that usually means he’s visiting Muriel as well, and Muriel needs to eat something other than eggs every once in a while. The added weight in his bag feels heavier than it should. You notice, and you remember, and you don’t even know why.

“Master?” You look at him with worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

He tries to clear the sadness from his eyes. “Fine, fine.” He holds out a hand which you gratefully take. “Do you remember the way from here?” You do, and you’re ridiculously proud of that. The forest eventually rises to meet the two of you, and something in you is happy to see the trees and the moss and the birdsong. “And what are we needing today?”

You rattle off the list of herbs, nightshades, and roots you need to restock the shop’s counter, and try not to blush at Asra’s proud look when you also note the most likely places to find them. “It’ll be faster if we split up,” you say, chewing your lip a little. You haven’t forgotten the last time you ventured into the woods. “Not far! Just… a little.”

He nods. “I’ll be right behind you. And if you need me, whistle.” He puts his cupped hands to his mouth and produces a whistle that sounds exactly like the birds calling from the treetops. You can manage a poor replica, but suitable nonetheless. Have you done this before? Were you able to mimic the birds once?

The same thoughts start to spiral in your brain as the two of you trace your way through the woods. Some spots are well-worn, a usual stop for a particular ingredient, but others you’ll have to go off the path to collect. Instinctively, you veer to your right, heading to a crop of foliage you know usually hides a particular kind of mushroom Asra generally needs. When you look back, you’re relieved to find you can still see his fluffy hair. You won’t go too far this time. It’ll be fine.

The mushrooms are ready to be gathered, and you plop down on a patch of moss to make it easier on yourself. Foraging comes so naturally, sometimes- like plucking things from the earth is a muscle memory your brain hasn’t really forgotten at all. Maybe you were a hunter living off the land. Maybe you were a recluse living in the woods off only what you could gather and what the animals led you to. It’s almost like a game, trying to figure out who you might’ve been before. You could’ve been a famous vocalist, renowned for your operatic flair, performing at the countess’ court every night. Or sometimes you’re a pirate on the high seas, and a terrible shipwreck washed you up on Vesuvia’s shores where Asra found you. A doctor, a handmaid, a warlord, a long-lost countess from countries unknown…

And then reality comes crashing back in, and all those fantasies get crushed under the weight of the unknown. A pirate wouldn’t be good at picking mushrooms. A doctor wouldn’t be so fond of the forest. A handmaid would have family looking for their missing loved one. It’s useless to speculate, because this is what you are now, and you need to be good at helping Asra otherwise what you are now is simply a waste of space. You glance at your hands as they put away the plants into your bag. They’re largely unmarred, no distinctive scars or features to give you any clues of before. One day, when you were sure Asra would be gone the whole day, you’d stripped in front of the little mirror you both shared and inspected yourself ear to toe. Nothing.

You’d then spent the rest of your uninterrupted time combing through the books in the back of the shop, even the dusty tomes that were rarely used, looking for anything about memory loss or amnesia or the reversing of. Memory loss can occur when a person has been through significant trauma, either the victim of or perpetrator of. That line had made you shiver. What kind of horrific things would a person have to go through to just… shut down? Assault? Murder? Worse?

But surely if you… if you’d killed someone, something like that would leave a mark. Something you couldn’t erase. Or the guards would be hunting for you; you’d be a wanted criminal, and Asra wouldn’t harbor fugitives and treat them like friends. You don’t think, anyways. The people at the market look at you strange, sure, but it’s always more with pity than anything. Surely if you were someone dangerous- they’d be afraid, wouldn’t they?

Your feet have been wandering in tandem with your thoughts, but you aren’t in completely unfamiliar territory. There’s a good tree for stripping bark right around here- before you can pull out your knife, you bump into something just above your head.

It’s a little bundle of sticks and twine, threaded together and suspended from the tree branch just ahead of you. It’s light enough to sway even in the tiny amount of breeze running through the forest today. You trace the pattern with your finger- a protective charm. Asra’s taught you about them; how they can ward off everything from spirits to bad luck. You probe it gently with your senses and feel its aura is weak and threadbare. It hasn’t been recharged in a while. You don’t know whose it is, but- it couldn’t hurt to practice, right?

You take it between your palms and blow gently, almost as though you’re trying to keep it warm, and close your eyes. Remember what Asra’s taught you. Focus your mind. Guide the magic to where you want it. Steady and sure.

There’s nothing at first- there usually isn’t- but as your brow furrows in concentration and your breathing evens, you can feel power ever so slightly seeping from your fingers to the charm. It gets warmer in your hands, slowly, slowly… you wince a little, and grit your teeth. Too slowly. It’s taking so much of your energy just to do this one little thing. Recharging a charm should be easy, you should be able to do it with a snap of you fingers, and here one ward is making you feel faint. Pathetic. Really. You should just-

“What are you doing.”

A voice from behind you startles you so bad you wrench the charm off of its string with a snap, and it stays clutched between your hands as you whirl to face a man three times your size and covered in furs and chains. “I- I’m sorry, I-”

He reaches forward and you flinch- which stops him, just for a moment, before he takes back the charm and holds it to his chest. “What are you doing.”

I’m sorry, sir, I’d just noticed your charm was running low on magic and- I’m an apprentice, see, of the magician just inside town, and I thought I might practice. I’m terribly sorry for bothering you!

Or that’s what you should’ve said, anyways.

“I just- I just needed to do something right,” you whisper, face so hot it might as well be coals and embers.

And then, to your horror, you begin to cry.

“And I can’t even do that! I can’t even- I’m sorry, I broke your charm, if you let me- no, my Master will fix it, I promise he can actually do magic, whereas I can’t even recharge a stupid fucking protection charm and I don’t even know why he bothers with me- no wonder no one has ever come looking for me, I’m worthless, I can’t even- god, I’m pathetic!” The tears come harder, and you can hear your voice cracking as you ramble. The stranger, to his credit, doesn’t berate you for trespassing. He just stands and watches, his face stonily quiet, and you can’t stop your chest from heaving. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t care, and now I’ve just broken your things, and I can’t even fix it. Please just wait right here, I’ll go get him and he can repair it, I promise-”

“Stop.”

Your eyes widen, and you hastily trying to wipe away the water from your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’ll go. You won’t see me again.”

The man says something so low you can’t make it out- he’s staring at the charm in his hands, holding it like it might break even further. “You aren’t worthless.”

A laugh that holds no joy bubbles out of you. “That’s nice of you to say. Luckily for you, you don’t know me.”

“NO!” You can see his face now under the hood he wears, just a glimpse of his eyes. They’re red. His voice is rough, like he’s pleading with you. Like there’s something- millions of things- he isn’t saying and that you’ll never know. “Don’t say that. Please.”

“I-”

“There you are! You didn’t whistle back, I got-” you can hear Asra snap a branch as he comes to a stop behind you. “Whoa. Hey. Are you- are you okay?”

“No, Master, I-” When you turn to him, you have to close your eyes against a wave of vertigo that swarms your senses. Hands grab your shoulders to center you, and Asra’s cool blue magic trying to cut through the sudden onslaught.

When you can finally focus on him, he looks more worried than he’s ever been, purple eyes wide and darting over your face and- it looks like something over your shoulder. You reach up and use the cuff of your sleeve to wipe your face- have you been crying?- and laugh a little nervously. “I- I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. Did I have another headache?”

His eyes are absolutely locked on something just behind you, but when you turn to look, his hands only grip you tighter. “A bad one. You’re okay, but we need to leave now.”

You nod, and you let him guide you away from the man behind you that you’ve forgotten. You didn’t see him shake his head at Asra once you’d turned away. You don’t see him almost collapse in on himself where he stands, charm crushed between his grip as he falls apart as quietly as he can.

Notes: I enjoy torturing myself apparently! Stay tuned for sexy times!

#the arcana #the arcana game #muriel #asra #muriel x apprentice #muriel x mc #muriel x reader #muriel x you #reader insert #non canon #gender neutral y/n

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dearlazerbunny · 2 years

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End of the year Asks

Song of the year?

Album of the year?

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Movie of the year?

TV show of the year?

Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

Favorite actor of the year?

Game of the year?

Best month for you this year?

Something that made you cry this year?

Something you want to do again next year?

Talk about a new friend you made this year

How was your birthday this year?

Favorite book you read this year?

What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

Post a picture from the beginning of the year

Post a picture from the end of the year

A memorable meal this year?

What’re you excited about for next year?

What’s something you learned this year?

What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

Favorite place you visited this year?

If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?

Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

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dearlazerbunny · 2 years

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I Made This For You (i hope you like it)

Pairings: Apprentice/Muriel, Apprentice & Asra

Chapters: 4 of ?

Summary: You're back from the dead, but all Muriel can think about is all the things that died with you. Maybe finding you all over again is exactly what he needs.

(Non-canon compliant in that Apprentice/Muriel's relationship is established before their death. Apprentice is gender neutral).

You slip through the forest, early morning light just beginning to filter through the trees and birdsong echoing off each other. There’s a satchel on your back, packed full of surprised, and a lightness in your step that would be clear for anyone to see if they were around. You’re headed somewhere special with tricks up your sleeve, and even if the weather wasn’t cooperating; if the day were somehow delayed or you caught a chill on the walk between there and the shop- nothing was going to ruin this day. You swore it to yourself.

You grin and shake your head a little as you practically skip through the forest, dodging roots and loping around trees like a perfectly memorized dance. You’d know the way to Muriel’s hut blindfolded, backwards, and deaf. When you tell him that, he just rolls his eyes and asks if you still have your protective charm on you, the worrywart.

Muriel is already up, which you expected. Something about seeing him standing in the middle of his little flock, shoulders relaxed, spreading grain on the ground so precisely so everyone gets their share… it makes you smile. This man has your whole heart, right down to the chickens.

You set your bag down off your shoulder, then try to to walk on the balls of your feet so you make as little sound as possible on the forest floor… closer, closer…. With a squeal you take a running jump and leap onto Muriel’s back, wrapping your legs around his waist and burying your face into the crook of his neck, giving him little kisses wherever you can reach. “SURPRISE!”

His hand goes up to your arm to stabilize you- or so you think. With a shift and a bubble of surprise dropping from your lips, he manages to swing you around so you’re facing him instead, ankles locked around his lower back and hands around his neck. His cheeks are so red they may as well be sunburnt, and it’s so cute you have to kiss those too. “I think you scared the chickens.”

You giggle from your perch as you watch the chickens squawk and scramble away from the sudden noise. “Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?”

“Unsure. They’re a vindictive bunch. No eggs for a month.” You almost, almost think he’s serious until the twinkle in his eye gives him away. You run a hand through his hair, purposefully mussing it in the way he pretends not to like. “To what do I owe the surprise?”

“What, I can’t just surprise my favorite person because I want to?”

He glances up towards the sky. “Not when it’s this early. Asra still asleep?”

“Please, you know him. He’ll sleep past noon if you let him.” You give him one more kiss before hopping down and retrieving your bag. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

You duck inside the hut while Muriel gathers the remainder of the morning’s eggs. Inanna is still asleep by a smoldering fire, one eye open and curious about the commotion- but not curious enough to greet you, as she immediately flops the other way and goes back to snoring. You ruffle her ears before sitting on the bed and beginning to unpack your satchel.

He finally joins you after adding more wood to the fire and stoking it to something more comfortable. “What’s all this?”

“This-” you pull out a piece of wrapped pumpkin bread from your favorite baker and hand it to him, then one for you. “Is a makeshift birthday cake, because I figured you’d like bread better than cake anyways.” Muriel’s eyes widen, a little stunned, and you take the initiative to clink your two wrapped slices together as a cheers. “Happy birthday, Muriel.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just sits with his bread wrapped in wax paper, and for a moment you think you’ve wildly miscalculated until his features soften into something a little wistful. “Asra told you?”

“I don’t think he meant to, to be fair. He was telling me stories about when you two were kids, and how at some point you picked your own birthdays since you didn’t know your real ones. And then I realized the date you picked was this week.” You give him a little bit of a lopsided smile. “I know you probably don’t much care about things like birthdays, but… well. You deserve to.”

Paper crinkles as it’s pulled away from the crust, and he smells the bread like it’s a fine wine rather than something you pick up from the baker three days a week. There’s a smile on his face, lighthearted and easy, and it makes you glow on the inside. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“Well luckily for you I do.” You gesture to your bag. “I’ve got a few things… if you’d like to see them?”

After laying out the more mundane things for him to appraise and admire- a rock the color of his eyes you’d found in the forest one afternoon; an old knife of his you’d nicked when he wasn’t looking, now returned to him sharpened meticulously by the best blacksmith in town; a few new charms to add to the collection surrounding his house- you pause at a little velvet pouch, catching your lower lip with your teeth. This was the one you weren’t sure about. “And this is… a little different.” You let the pouch spill into your hand, revealing dozens of beautifully hammered bronze beads. They glint in the light, not shiny like gold or silver but muted and warm like embers and rich wood in sunlight. They’d reminded you of Muriel the instant you saw them. “Everyone should dress up a little for their birthday.” He looks at the beads in your palm, tracing his finger through them and letting them swirl around. “Could I braid your hair?”

He blinks at you. “My hair?”

“Mhm. Just to have it out of your face, I always love when I can see your eyes, and I thought the bronze suited you… maybe it’s stupid.” At most, he’ll tie back his hair with a scrap piece of leather or thread when he’s chopping wood, but that’s it. You blush. “I think you’d look pretty is all.”

“…pretty.” You shrug, embarrassed, but without an ounce of insincerity. He picks up a bead and inspects it- it isn’t hammered perfectly smooth but has little indents and imperfections on its face. A little rough, a little raw. You have to look close to see the beauty. Ever so slowly, he situates himself so that he’s facing away from you, head tiled back as an invitation.

Grinning, you run your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly as you comb out tangles and start at the crown of his head. Bronze gets woven in from his temples to the back of his head and tied off with a simple piece of cord. Not tight enough to pull, but enough so that he can’t hide the pink creeping across his cheekbones at your touch. The braid isn’t anything fancy, and you have to tuck away loose strands you didn’t get on your first pass, but ultimately- “Wow.” You step away to admire your handiwork. “I was right.”

Muriel raises an eyebrow, and in a rare moment of levity shifts from side to side so you can more easily take him in. You laugh, smoothing the lines on his forehead and tracing his browbone. “King of the Forest. Beautiful.”

“Hardly.”

“Mmmmmnope.” Both hands come to cup the sides of his face, tilting it up so you can look him in the eyes. “Beautiful. Stunning. Ethereal. Gorgeous. Sublime.” You punctuate each adjective with a kiss to his nose, his cheeks, his forehead. “I’m never wrong, Muri, remember?”

He reaches up and stills your hands, covering them with his, and pulls you down into a kiss far more heated than the light teasing you’ve been lavishing his face with. A little moan escapes you before its swallowed by a light bite to your bottom lip and his hands moving to your hips, pulling you forward until you’re curled into his lap. He’s steady and warm and you can feel your heart rate ratcheting up as you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of him all around you, the heat of him and his hands wandering and your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s a moment frozen in time, just the two of you, nothing for miles to break the threads spun between you.

When he leans back, it’s only by an inch, so you can still feel his lips ghosting over yours, and he can taste your smile. His eyes are bright. “Happy birthday,” you whisper, and instead of answering he simply pulls you back in.

#the arcana #the arcana game #muriel #asra #muriel x apprentice #muriel x mc #muriel x reader #muriel x you #reader insert #non canon #gender neutral y/n

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dearlazerbunny · 2 years

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I Made This For You (i hope you like it)

Pairings: Apprentice/Muriel, Apprentice & Asra

Chapter 3 of ?

Summary: You're back from the dead, but all Muriel can think about is all the things that died with you. Maybe finding you all over again is exactly what he needs.

(Non-canon compliant in that Apprentice/Muriel's relationship is established before their death. Apprentice is gender neutral).

Once you’ve proven you do in fact have the stamina for a day trip, Asra takes you to the market to restock the store’s shelves. You have a strange sense of déjà vu- one image superimposed over another. The stalls are full, but there should be twice as many. There’re vendors, but the majority of them are Vesuvian- they’re missing a rainbow of dialects and languages you have no idea how you know about. The food is fresh and the jewelry shines in the light, but something is missing.

Of course, you have no idea what that is.

You trail beside Asra, trying to be present and he walks a familiar path through the stalls, trying to ignore a throb in your temples that you’re determined to not let ruin your day. Even if all you can do is carry the basket- you need to do something to help. Yesterday, Asra was teaching you to make some basic salves, ones that the shop keeps in constant supply, and while you made quick work of some, you wasted too many ingredients not being able to remember a plant by the feel of its leaf or the bitterness in its smell. Asra is infinitely patient and deftly swept away the mess, assuring you that it doesn’t matter, but you still felt like a failure. You wonder for the nth time why Asra even bothers. Why he doesn’t hire another assistant that can do the work he needs; find another apprentice whose magic doesn’t go haywire in a fit of frustration.

You wonder where you’ll go when he finally decides to toss you out. The docks? The woods? Leave Vesuvia completely? Is there anything beyond, and if so, how kind are they to amnesiac strangers?

Unconsciously, you’ve stopped in front of a rough-hewn stall that looks a little less polished than the others. Carvings decorate the table: animals, flowers, plants you don’t recognize. You pick up a little brown snake that’s coiled in on itself, shallow slashes decorating the back of it to resemble stripes. It doesn’t really look like Faust, but it’s cute, nonetheless.

Asra bumps your hip, a silent acknowledgement that he’s joined you- sudden loud noises tend to not go over too well- and laughs when he sees what you’ve picked up. Shrugging aside his scarf a few inches, he lets Faust peek out from his collar. “What do you think Faust? Twins, or no?”

Not me! The snake sounds almost offended that Asra would even ask, and both of you laugh. You scritch the familiar under the chin. “Don’t worry, it’s not nearly as beautiful as you.” She preens at that, giving you a little lick with her sandpapery tongue.

Asra appraises the booth. “What made you stop here? See anything you like?”

You raise a shoulder halfheartedly, unwilling to give up the melancholy thoughts that’ve plagued you all day. “Nothing in particular, I don’t think.” Your hands wander, tracing the curves of a lily blossoming, the antennae of a winged insect so lifelike it looks as though it could take flight, and- your hand stops at a wolf, carved from some sort of material so dark it’s almost black. Despite being small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, you can almost see the gleam in its eyes, the fur bristling on the back of its neck. When you pick it up, flashes of light and sound overwhelm you-

You jump into a lake from a craggy cropping of rocks, unafraid of what you’ll find below; the scent of pine and cedar surrounds you like a favorite blanket you’ve misplaced and found again; someone’s smile is so lovely it carves an impression onto your heart; a wolf tugs on a branch you hold the other end to, playfully dancing around you as you laugh-

“Hey. Are you okay?” You blink, focusing on Asra, who’s leaning in close to you, watching your eyes. The pad of one thumb is resting gently on your temple, and you can feel his magic chasing away the fog of- whatever that was. You’re almost sad to watch the memories go. They felt like happy ones. Ones you wouldn’t mind remembering. “Headache?”

“I- I guess. I didn’t notice.”

“Mmm.” He glances down. “You like this one?”

You smile without thinking about it, running a finger over the snout of the little wolf. “Yes. I’m not sure why. I don’t suppose I had a wolf familiar in a past life?” You say it jokingly, meaning to lighten the mood, and the unexpectedly sad look that flashes through the magician’s eyes catches you off guard. “Asra?”

He puts a few coins down on the table, nodding to the shopkeeper that’s been carving something yet to be determined on a stool in the shade. Then he puts the wolf in your palm and closes your fingers around it. “Keep it. You deserve something nice.”

You snort at that, shaking your head. “I can’t even remember half of what you teach me, I don’t see how that earns me anything nice.” But Asra has already moved on, his attention turned to someone who’s hurried up to him with a worried look on their face, wringing their hands.

You sigh and squeeze your hand around your new treasure hard enough to feel the wood prick your skin.

You sit on the floor of a small hut, fire crackling behind you, the smell of the woods and earth filling your senses. There’s a bucket of water next to you and a cloth in your hands, stained with red. A paw rests in your lap. A large black wolf lays on the floor next to you, whimpering, another paw covering its eyes and snout as if it can’t bear to see you work.

“I know, I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” you coo, continuing to gently wash the injury with fresh water until enough fur and dirt has been pushed away and you can find what you’re looking for-

A wicked sized thorn has been lodged between the wolf’s paw pads, making you wince in sympathy. “Oh, Inanna, hold on-” the rag goes into the bucket, and you shift so that more of the firelight can illuminate the both of you. You give an exploratory prod to the injured area, only to illicit another pathetic sounding moan from the animal in front of you. You grit your teeth, trying to get a decent grip on the thorn, and pull.

The resulting howl from Inanna makes your heart clench, and you let yourself babble comforting things, trying to keep both her and you calm. It takes another tug with it clinched between your fingernails and a sickening twist to the side to get the thorn all the way out, and you immediately toss it to the side, forgoing wrapping the cloth around the bleeding gash to your own hands. Magic runs through you, a soft sort of pressure meant to ease pain and help the wound bind back together. You stroke her fur the entire time- “You did so good Inanna, I know it hurts, but it’s done, it’s all over. I’m here-”

The door to the hut slams open, making you jump and interrupting the flow of your magic for a moment before you can refocus. Muriel surges forward, eyes wild, immediately on the floor next to you. “What happened? I heard-”

“She’s okay,” you start off immediately, giving your tone a little more authority so it can cut through the adrenaline Muriel is currently running on. “She got a decent sized thorn in her paw, I got it out, and we’re getting the bleeding under control.” You grimace a bit at your red hands and the pink bucket of water. “It looks worse than it is.”

Muriel keeps his eyes on Inanna, breathing hard. She offers him a mournful look and licks her lips, as if to confirm your story. He finds the thorn on the floor and picks it up. It looks miniscule in his hands. “Did you check-”

“Nothing poisonous. I double checked.”

He lets out a breath, slow and controlled. The thorn gets tossed into the fireplace, which merely flickers happily as it devours it whole. Then he slides down next to you, shifting from his knees to sit properly, pressed up against your side. Inanna wiggles a little until she can rest her head on his knee, and he covers her ears with his palm, as if reassuring himself she’s still there. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry, I just- I heard her howl and I…”

“It’s okay, love.” You trade hands covering Inanna’s paw, giving the other a break. “Hand me the rag?” He does, and you focus on cleaning up both the wolf and you, trying to make everything look less gruesome. You let Muriel focus, let him collect his thoughts, let him listen to the three of you breathe through this.

Eventually you deem your work satisfactory when her paw shows no trace of a break in skin. Muriel stays your hand, covering it with his own and then twining your fingers, drawing your eyes up to meet his. “Are you okay?

You smile at him as he presses your knuckles to his mouth. “I’m fine, Muri. And so is she. We’re okay.” You wrinkle your nose at him. “But you might want to let me wash my hands.”

You end up on the bed, Muriel behind you, your back resting against his chest and his arms and legs around you as he works a clean cloth across your fingers, steadfastly rubbing away the pink and brown. Inanna is curled up beside you, breathing slow as she dozes. Your head is leaned back into the crook of his neck, breathing him in as he takes care of you. “Thank you.” From this position you can feel his words better than you can hear them. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if…”

You press a light kiss to his throat. “Taken care of her, same as I did. Don’t sell yourself short.” Another grumble, and you smile against his skin. He so hates compliments. Too bad you think the world of him.

“Are you tired?” He leans back so he can see your face. “How much magic did you use?”

As if on cue, you yawn basically directly in his face, making his mouth quirk in that small little grin of his as you give him a sheepish look. “Enough, I guess.” You curl back up into him and fall asleep to the feeling of his fingers tracing the lines of your palms and his lips pressed to the crown of your head.

The next time Asra sees Muriel, as they walk the forest and climb branches renewing the power in each protection rune, the magician hands him the little carved wolf. “They dream about you.” He nods to the figurine in Muriel’s palm, which made the other man stop still. “Inanna, too. I don’t think they remember much when they wake up, but…”

Muriel presses it back into Asra’s palm. “Give it back to them.”

“Are you just going to stay out here, pretending that you weren’t so in love with them we risked everything for them? They’re back from the dead, Muriel, I don’t know how much more of a second chance you want!”

“They wouldn’t want me like this,” he spits out through gritted teeth, running a finger between his neck and collar that weighs on his shoulder. “They wouldn’t-”

“Maybe you should let them decide for themselves!” The woven charm between Asra’s fingers sputters and sparks, and he releases it quickly, sighing. “We all did what we had to do, Muriel. Them included. They won’t think any less of you because of it.”

Muriel shakes his head. “You don’t know.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I think it’s going to kill you to never find out.”

“Leave it.” Muriel’s voice is so low Asra wouldn’t have heard it at all if not for the threat behind it.

So Asra does, walking in silence with his best friend as they press magic into woven charms they know like the back of their hands, and he makes sure to do all the ones hung up by you so many years ago.

#the arcana #the arcana game #muriel #asra #muriel x apprentice #muriel x mc #muriel x reader #muriel x you #reader insert #non canon #gender neutral y/n

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