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ghost-proofbaby · 29 days

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“I don’t care about your letter,” he tries to defend himself. He really does. But his voice raises in pitch, and she can feel his curiosity that burns incessantly over their tadpole connection. It’s going to eat him alive at some point, “It’s probably just some dreadfully boring love letter from whatever poor fool awaits your return in the city. Nauseating poetry you cling to each night before bed, no doubt.”

summary: out of all the things aruna is coming to learn, her past and her heritage should be amongst the most interesting. but when her pale, vampiric friend slips up with one common phrase of endearment, she realizes there are far more interesting things to uncover.

wc: 7.7k+

warnings: mentions of a possibly deceased parent, these characters are so so lonely and so so traumatized it isn't even funny, more memory loss mention of course

a/n: the terrible attempt at drizzt lore. i just. my bad. i'm trying my best i swear. for anyone keeping track - yes, this is one of the chapters already posted on ao3 <3

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“I need to speak to Astarion. Alone.”

Amethysts meet rubies. Two sides of the same coin; two different creatures of the night used to scare the children of Faerun.

Aruna is part drow, and Astarion is a vampire.

Shadowheart is smart enough to exit the tent in a timely manner, even without knowing.

Everything in Aruna craves to lash out, to confront him, to reveal to him that she knows his secret. She’s sure of it as she looks at him through brand new eyes now – he’s a vampire, and he seemingly has no plans on telling the rest of the group any time soon. She should just do it; she should yank off the bandaid for the safety of the others in camp, for her own safety.

He musn’t know.

She knows more now. Gaps in her synapses finally filled in, an illusion of sparse memories returned to her. She has the most basic understanding of what drows are. The concept of Faerun is less a fairytale she nods along to, and one that she can fully grasp now. Baldur’s Gate isn’t a whimsical idea anymore but instead a city she can almost picture the buildings of if she focuses hard ernough. She knows exactly what vampires are capable of. They were small gaps, ones that she hadn’t even noticed bothering her until they’d been soothed over with her new knowledge.

For the first time since the crash, Aruna nearly feels human. Or, as human as she can, given her bloodline.

And amidst humanity, common sense trickles back in. She can’t confront Astarion, not yet, because she knows he would only fight her. Denial, anger, lashing out – those are the only realistic reactions she’ll be allotted. The explanation of how she knows isn’t exactly soothing, either.

He musn’t know.

About the memories. About the moments between them that exist somewhere else, somewhere far from where they are now. For now, he cannot know. A secret to be kept until the timing is right.

And quite the challenging secret to be kept, considering Aruna and Astarion have just learned how to essentially join their minds before this entire ordeal.

In the moments after Shadowheart has left them alone, Aruna comes to her temporary conclusion as Astarion slowly recovers from the shock of how abruptly Aruna had shut him out of her mind. Just as she subtly nods in determination to protect her mind, to protect her memories, Astarion looks back up at her suddenly.

“Care to explain exactly why you slammed that mental door shut on me-”

She can’t answer that. So she interrupts with a sincere, “I’m sorry.”

He’s taken back, just as she’d intended.

“Sorry?” he asks, almost matching her sincerity before he seems to remember who he is, clearing his throat before carrying on in a more airy tone. Somehow more guarded, now that she can see more familiar pieces within him, “For what, exactly? The mental door, or the part where you were an absolute fool who nearly got yourself killed?”

“Both,” she finally relaxes back into the bedroll. Shadowheart had been right; her entire body aches, and her palm is still tender, “I’m sorry for both, and I want to thank you for saving me.”

“I didn’t save you-”

“Someone had to bring me back to camp,” she smiles weakly. Of course he was going to deny having committed a heroic act. For all the gaps of common knowledge that had been filled for her, there were also several holes in the puzzle that was Astarion that also had been permeated. The vampirism was probably the least interesting realization she could have taken from all she learned, “Deny it or accept it, I’m still thanking you.”

There’s more words on the tip of her tongue. She wants to tell him she knows, and she wants to tell him that he’s safe with her. She wants to convince him that he doesn’t need this mask with her, that she much prefers the version of him from the memory. With his guard down and humor still intact, not vying for her attention but understanding that they were both captivating one another simply by existing. No pressure, no weights. The version of him that keeps slipping through the cracks in rare moments alone.

But for now, she’ll leave it at a simple thank you.

He doesn’t say another word, only nods, face twisted in an amusing discomfort and strange contemplation before he turns and motions for Shadowheart to return. Fine enough.

Aruna just wishes he would stay instead of slither out just as the cleric slips back in.

—

“He’s pouting, you know.”

Aruna doesn’t so much as glance up from her position on one of the plush pillows in front of Gale’s tent, staying focused on the book in her lap. The wizard sounds amused.

“He’s not pouting,” she absent-mindedly replies, slowly turning the page as her eyes continue to drink in the words. They’re beginning to slowly blur together from how long she’s been reading, “He’s just being his usual delightful self.”

She’s right – Astarion isn’t pouting.

Whatever looks he’s been shooting her way since she’d been given permission by Shadowheart to venture over to Gale’s tent and read, as long as she promised to do nothing more than that, were just him being nosey as per usual. It had started with curious flickers, and as thetime passed, they became something more annoyed than anything else. But he had been the one to leave her behind in Shadowheart’s tent, and he had been the one avoiding her since that conversation between them. It’s not Aruna’s problem that the elf can’t handle someone expressing gratitude for having their life saved.

“That,” Gale points to accentuate his point in the general vicinity of where Astarion is brooding by the campfire pit before ungracefully flopping himself down on the ground beside her, “is not his normal self. I’m starting to genuinely fear he’ll come after me in my sleep tonight if I continue to let you loiter in my space.”

He has no idea how easily Astarion could truly accomplish that, should he so please. Part of Aruna nearly feels bad for keeping his true nature a secret, but she has no doubt that he’ll eventually expose himself. Especially if those brief flashes of visions that had been precursors to her full memory were anything to go off of. They’ll either find a drained boar, or he’ll attempt to drink Aruna’s blood, or she’ll simply confront him about it. Who knows, maybe this time, he’ll try to sneak a bite of Gale instead of Aruna.

It’s strange to think of her journey as a repeat. But between the deja vu and the new memories available to her, that has to be what it is. History is repeating itself for some unknown reason.

Save Astarion.

Perhaps, some greater deity had sent her back in time. Perhaps something terrible had happened to Astarion that called for divine intervention.

Well, she knows something terrible did in fact happen to him. She remembers the sobs and wails of her own volition, and she knows.

Aruna turns another page instead of replying, so Gale finally continues, “May I ask why you needed to read a book on drows so urgently?”

“Weren’t you the one that rambled on about a hungry mind and such nonsense?” Aruna grumbles, squinting her eyes at the page. She’s reread the same sentence three times now, but she refuses to look up on the off-chance that she sees another one of Astarion’s inconspicuous looks being shot this way.

“Make no mistake – I don’t mean to dismiss your sudden craving for knowledge,” Gale holds up his hands and the motion has Aruna sparing him a glance, “Just quite the jump from the research you’d been doing regarding classes. Do you truly not remember your own race?”

No, she thinks bitterly for a moment, apparently I did not.

She sighs and closes the book softly finally, careful to dogear the page she was currently on, “What do you see when you look at me?”

Gale’s eyebrows shoot up, “Is this a trick question?”

She shakes her head, turning her body slightly as she discards the book to the pile forming at her side. She’d also gathered up a book on fighters and a book on rogues – she hadn’t forgotten the unspoken deal ongoing between herself and Astarion regarding his class, and had finally narrowed down her options, “Not at all. Friend to friend, how do you perceive me?”

Friends. Gale smiles softly at that, and Aruna can’t help but let her own lips twitch. They needed friendship on this journey. And Gale seemed like a safe enough option, for now.

“Well, for starters, I see someone lost,” he begins, and Aruna’s nose immediately scrunches in disgust as he rushes to continue, “But I also see someone very determined to find their way. Someone capable of great leadership thus far, and someone I find easy to put my trust in. I see someone good.”

She lets out a breath of a laugh, looking at Gale slightly amused, “Very kind words, but I meant regarding my race.”

She swears she can see a trace of a blush along Gale’s neck as his eyes widen, “Oh. Oh, I see. Well, clearly elven descent,” as he says such, Aruna can’t stop herself from reaching up to tuck her hair behind those almost pointed ears of hers, “Although it’s unclear just how strong that elven heritage is. I assumed you already knew, between your ears and your eyes.”

“Are you telling me purple eyes aren’t common, Gale of Waterdeep?”

If she would turn to look at Astarion’s, she’d finally see all the pouting that her wizardly friend had been prattling on about. He can’t hide it, clear as day as he watches the man preen beneath the attention of their leader.

“Not in my travels,” Gale chuckles. But his laughter falls short when he catches the look on Astarion’s face over Aruna’s shoulder, “Then again, red eyes also aren’t all that normal.”

She doesn’t turn to look. She only leans in closer, pulling a teasing face, “He’s looking over here, isn’t he?”

“I’m almost moved to beg you to give the poor man just a second of your time.”

“I’m not the one who's doing the ignoring. He can come to me when he’s ready.”

Gale holds up palms of surrender, “I see. Still. I think Astarion might be a bit more sensitive than any of us take him for, and-”

“I can hear you two, you are aware, yes?”

As a shadow falls over Aruna, the warmth of the sun suddenly stolen as she knows exactly who’s looming over her shoulder now, she only grins. She had been very aware that he could hear every single word spoken – she had been counting on it, even.

“Astarion!” she greets him overly enthusiastically, turning with flourish to challenge his own as she holds out an arm towards one of the empty pillows across from her, “Please, by all means, join us.”

His scowl is almost cute, “I’m quite fine.”

“Indeed you are. Why else would you decide to interrupt our casual conversation?”

She’s pushing him, testing his limits. Given all her new knowledge, she should truly be focused on being more careful. By all counts of logic, she should be walking on eggshells around the vampire. But he doesn’t scare her. Not when he’s covered in blood from battle, and not now as he glares down at herself and Gale.

“Gossip is unbecoming, my dear,” he snipes, still standing, blocking the setting sun still and allowing Aruna’s eyes to stay relaxed as she peers up at him, “Besides, if anyone is interesting enough to be whispered about in this camp, I’d argue it would be you.”

Gale is all but forgotten as she finally awards Astarion the attention she knows he’s been secretly pining for. His mask of indifference and shield of annoyance are no match for her; she doesn’t understand why he craves for her words and her quiet looks, but he does. A soft spot she fully intends to explore more in the future.

“And why is that? Is it because of my half-heartedly pointed ears, or my eyes of a drow?”

Gale stiffens up as she puts it so bluntly. She’d already read enough of the text to understand it; her heritage was the reason for her unique eyes. No need to refuse to speak it outloud. She was part drow, plain and simple, even if no one had brought it up to her previously.

Astarion almost seems impressed by her candor, “Well, you said it. Not me.”

“Drow isn’t a bad word,” she argues, subtly motioning to the book atop her pile, “A few rotten eggs shouldn’t spoil all the fun.”

Astarion’s eyes dart to that open pillow once more, and Aruna waves towards it once more. A silent invitation she’s secretly begging for him to take.

Let me back in. Just accept my kindness and stop playing these games.

She almost sends it down the connection, but she hasn’t reached out across the tadpoles since she’d shut him out to begin with. There’s no guarantee if she reignites that bridge between them that she could keep her thoughts, her memories, private from him. If he finds out what she knows, she has no idea what to expect as his reaction.

It’s all complicated. Terribly, brutally complicated.

“In all fairness,” Gale clears his throat, “Your eyes… Drows donning that specific shade are usually not of the evil variety.”

“No, drows donning this specific shade are usually of the surface variety.”

The book had made that very clear – those blood red eyes, ones to rival even Astarion’s, were exclusively reserved for the drows that crept amongst the shadows.

Astarion suddenly seems to decide the conversation is worth further indulging in, committing to his participation as he settles himself down on the open pillow with far more grace than Gale had exhibited when he lowered himself to the ground, “Have you ever heard the name Drizzt?”

Her confused look, vacant of recognition, is the only answer he needs.

“Right,” the vampire huffs out, “Of course you haven’t.”

Aruna is about to inquire who the Hell Drizzt is, but Gale is faster, clearly sensing her perplexity, “The history of Drizzt Do’Urden is a very long, very complicated one. All you need to really know, for now, is he was one of the first drows to escape to live amongst the surface rather than the Underdark. He lost the favor of Lolth, the goddess commonly worshiped by drows-”

“Hold on, hold on,” Aruna has leaned forward without even noticing, trying to understand all the sudden lore of her unexpected heritage. But it’s nearly impossible, a few gaps still existing in this corner of her mind, “What’s the Underdark? Who’s Lolth?”

“She’s hopeless.”

“Astarion,” Gale scolds. He’s a good teacher, she realizes. Patient, understanding. All things she desperately needed, “The Underdark is home to many creatures, drow included. The sun does not penetrate the lands. I’m afraid my knowledge of it falls a bit flat for the time being, but I can surely find a book on it if I don’t already have one,” he offers a kind smile, “We can learn. Together.”

The mention of Astarion killing Gale in his sleep creeps back into Aruna’s mind as she watches Astarion’s eyes narrow at the suggestion. He’s acting as though she’s a rare commodity, as if her companionship and attention are something to ration carefully amongst themselves rather than something she gives willingly.

She can be friends with both Astarion and Gale. The sooner he realizes that, the sooner all this ridiculous tension can cease.

“And Lolth?” she keeps her eyes trained on Astarion, practically urging him to stop with the death stare.

It doesn’t.

She’s going to regret it, but she throws out a mental hand for that bridge between their minds, one tadpole caressing against the other as she asks for entrance to his mind.

She can handle it. She can do this and close the connection without exposing any of her memories. It’ll be fine – it has to be fine.

The death stare is cut off by his look of shock, head whipping towards her with a questioning glance. In an instant, the pressure gives, and she knows he’s let her in.

If you kill Gale in his sleep over something as petty as trying to teach me of my heritage, I’ll sharpen my axe, just as we discussed.

Astarion’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly, promise?

I’m not a commodity, Astarion. And jealousy is not a good look on you.

Jealousy? He’s doing well, hiding his irritation at the suggestion, but she still catches the flare of his nostrils, I am not jealou-

“Are either of you even listening to me?”

The moment evaporates, but Aruna doesn’t make any move to clip the connection quite yet. She leaves it open as she turns her head to an offended Gale.

And she catches that slight quiver of delight that runs down it once Astarion realizes he isn’t being pushed back out.

“I’m sorry,” Aruna apologizes, offering up a pitiful smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “As you were saying?”

She listens to Gale’s explanation this time. Astarion, it seems, doesn’t. He’s too preoccupied sparing her endless glances.

Lolth sounds terrifying, even with Gale’s soothing voice explaining who she is. A goddess worshiped amongst drows, revered of the highest status. Often referred to as the Queen of Spiders. A merciless goddess who thrives off of chaos, off of cruelty. The more that Gale explains her, the more that Aruna detests her. Someone who demands obedience, someone who demands violence.

Part drow or not, Aruna would never worship Lolth. She knows such with finality.

Her staunch hatred drips down the mental connection with Astarion before she can catch herself. Even if she had, he’s surely caught the brief scowl that passes over her face momentarily. He makes no move to comfort her, only stares, gaze more curious than anything else.

“Queen of the Spiders?” she finally scoffs. A weak response that hardly vocalizes the true disdain she holds, but she isn’t sure how to navigate that yet, “What a ridiculously stupid title.”

Astarion snorts. Gale looks entirely unamused.

Aruna continues to try and tame the flames of negativity that have sparked at the entire conversation.

“I know you mean well and are joking,” Gale starts to lecture, “But I would tread carefully considering we don’t know your pas-”

“Yes, yes. Her past,” Astarion interrupts, leaning forward as he stares into Aruna’s eyes, “You know, I’m starting to believe it may not be as unknown as we have come to think.”

Aruna swears her heart stops, “What are you trying to say, Astarion?”

“I just find it odd that you dance with death, and awaken with a morbid curiosity for your heritage. When exactly did you realize you have a little drow inside you, dear?”

Her blood runs cold. The connection is wide open, leaving her mind vulnerable as her thoughts begin to race. She’s trying to scramble to slam that door shut, to keep Astarion out of her thoughts and out of her memories, but it seems as though he has one foot in the threshold now. He’s not being pushed back out without a fight this time.

His voice is velvet as it caresses along her cerebrum.

What aren’t you telling us, little fool?

“We’ve repeatedly said my memories might return to me,” she purposefully chooses to answer out loud, keeping the safety net of Gale’s involvement within reach, “I- I can’t explain it. I simply knew when I woke up.”

Only a half lie. Only a slight perversion of the full truth.

She can feel the weight of his tadpole pressing up against her boundaries. Just as she had chosen to push his limits, he’s doing the same. Meddling where he knows he shouldn’t, attempting to elicit chaos that he must be aware won’t end well.

Get out of my mind, Astarion.

You were the one who reopened this wonderful treat of a connection, he tsks silently, Already regretting it?

I’ll show you true regret if you don’t mind yourself.

The only flaw of threatening someone who has access to your mind, to all your thoughts and all your emotions, is when they can immediately call your bluff. Astarion doesn’t believe she’ll bring any harm onto him for even a second. There is a softness, a fondness, that lies beneath that she cannot hide no matter how deeply she attempts to bury it. It’s why she’s yet to bring up his vampirism, it’s why she hadn’t fought harder against him during their first meeting at the beach when he’d held a dagger to her throat.

It’s why he sits now before her, a delightful grin playing at his lips as he taunts her without repercussion.

“Well, that’s certainly interesting,” Gale hums, seemingly unaware of the internal argument flaring up. That, or he’s ignoring their odd behavior, “So you can recall that you’re a drow-”

“Quarter drow,” she corrects uselessly, not causing the slightest falter in Gale’s cadence.

“-and you’ve learned you’re a sorcerer. Anything else worth mentioning?”

Yes, dear. Anything else?

She presses harder on that mental door, still trying to slam it shut, still failing miserably against his strength.

Clearly, he had been true to his word. He really does relish in annoying her at any given chance.

“Nothing I can think of at the moment,” she quips shortly. She’s trying to school her expression towards Astarion, but she’s coming up sorely short.

Gale nods, twisting his lips, careful in thought, “Right, well. If anything does come to mind, I’m sure you’ll clue us in.”

“Of course.”

Astarion is about to send another sarcastic comment over their connection. She can sense it, feel the vibrations of his laughter before he’s even sent it. But in his amusement, his concentration of keeping one foot in the doorway has slipped, and Aruna’s mental strength is finally enough to shove him out with a resounding slam through her mind. He looks significantly less like a kicked puppy this time, as though it had all been a game, and this wasn’t him losing so much as it was her sending the ball into his court.

“Now,” she says suddenly, moving quickly to stand, head whirling a bit from the entirety of this conversation. There’s still echoes of her clicking the lock into place to keep Astarion firmly out of her cognitive space. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go get some proper rest before Shadowheart throws another fit.”

She’s quick to gather up the few books Gale has so graciously offered her, pressing them hard enough into her chest to leave a mark. In her scramble to pick them up, the cover of the rogue book has flashed to where Astarion can see it.

He grins, and she doesn’t notice.

She does notice the caress of icey, gentle fingers along the outskirts of her mind as she walks away, though. A reminder that her locked door can only keep him at bay for so long. And he won’t even have to be the one to unlock it.

By the time she’s made it to her secluded destination, her perch overlooking the camp, the very same spot that had served as sanctuary to herself and the Astarion from her memories, her nimble fingers are already the one toying with unlocking the door.

Not quite an invitation, but not quite a warning. Simply a reminder.

—

The hours pass by a bit slower when Aruna’s left to her own devices.

She’s found comfort in the patch of grass just below the cover of trees, back pressed into the bark of one of the thicker oaks rather than trying to find a good reading position on her usual boulder. Her attention and intentions divide themselves out over the time; she practices small incantations in the palms of her hands, she continues to dance with the idea of unlocking her mental door once more for Astarion, she reads more of the book on drows. Eventually, she stumbles across the name Drizzt.

Gale had highly undersold the legendary drow.

There’s tales of his adventures put into plain terms across a spread of pages. A brief overview of House Do’Urden, a quickened history of Menzoberranzan. At some point, a headache forms from all these concepts that Aruna can’t fully grasp yet, things she craves to dive deeper into the knowledge of but simply can’t with nothing more than a book written by someone who clearly had no vested interest in drows.

It’s the shortest of the books she’s taken thus far. No flourish to the words. Just facts, laid out in the simplest fashion possible, as though more elaboration would have pained the author.

Aruna finally gives up at some point, somewhere between reading about Drizzt’s departure from his people and his acclimation to life on the surface that led to his adventures, and tosses the book to her side. There had only been one useful bit of knowledge that had stuck with her – lavender eyes. Drizzt Do’urden had lavender eyes, previously unheard of, only a few shades lighter than Aruna’s own.

Or has, she supposes. She hadn’t seen anything about his explicit death during her skimming.

She reaches up and takes out the tight ponytail she’d been donning during most of their travels. Dark hair spills down her shoulders, catching in the breeze, almost mimicking her past memory she’d finally unlocked. This time, however, the shades of the setting sun filter through the locks rather than the caress of moonlight. Deep oranges and pinks give a different hue to the strands. There’s a pounding in rhythm with her heartbeat as she tilts her tender head back against the bark, eyes fluttering shut, the vibrance of dusk painting brilliance across her closed lids.

Drizzt was the first to don eyes like hers. The first to dare to dwell on the surface. She tries to picture them as she relaxes, mere shades lighter than her own.

All she can see, though, are the ones belonging to the motherly figure from her memory.

I was someone’s daughter once.

There is no one waiting on her out there. The past tense is deafening as she feels that acceptance seep into her bones. She was someone’s daughter, but she hadn’t been in a very, very long time. Whoever’s eyes she bore was long gone, below the ground, marked by a gravestone that she knew her younger self had defiantly carved markings into.

Her mother. Her mother’s eyes, and her mother’s grave.

Her eyes shoot open and she overlooks the camp, just as this version of herself has done a handful of times. Just as the shadowed version of herself had done hundreds of times.

Aruna’s hands move before she can think. She doesn’t reach for any of the books she’s carried up with her, doesn’t reach out to push her fingers through moss to ground herself, and certainly doesn’t reach for her daggers. Her fingertips make straight for the small pouch that hasn’t left her side since the crash – for the destroyed paper within.

It’s finally dried, despite being tucked away into leather all this time. There’s a delicate crinkle to it, one that makes Aruna fear breaking it as she carefully undoes the trifold of the letter. She doesn’t know what she was expecting – for the words to have magically restored themselves, for a new answer to have suddenly appeared on the parchment, for a new clue to present itself to her now that she’s regained some of her memories – but it’s the same as the very first day.

One handwriting addressing her by name neatly across the top, and another frantically instructing her across the bottom.

She lifts the paper until her nose is nearly pressed to it, eyes digging deeply into the overall blue hue that marks the center of the letter. What did it once say? Did she write this letter? Did someone else?

Had her mother possibly written this letter? And was it possible that saving Astarion had everything to do with her?

It doesn’t feel very possible. Her mother’s death feels far removed from whatever situation she’s gotten herself into with Astarion.

“For someone calling out across a mental bond, you have made yourself quite hidden.”

Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.

She looks up just as he breaks between the two trees that had been functioning to keep her out of sight from the others, a sly grin on his face.

“I’m no Devil, my dear,” he corrects her, and she stiffens. Had she said that out loud? “And no, you’re not speaking out loud. Did you not realize you’d reopened the connection?”

“I-” her mouth falls open, brows furrowing. She knew she’d been playing with fire, fiddling with the lock, but hadn’t even heard the click of her opening the door back up. She finally sighs in acceptance, letting her head fall back to the tree with a thump, “No. I hadn’t realized.”

He nods, stopping right at the edge of moss and grass that she’d made into her seat for the night, “Well, that certainly puts your odd message into perspective.”

“What? What did you hear? What did I even say?”

He hesitates. The same contemplative look from in the Grove has passed over his face for just a second.

“I was someone’s daughter once.”

Her heart effectively drops. “Oh.”

He nods awkwardly for a second, passing his weight between his two feet until he suddenly waves a hand towards the little space beside her at the tree trunk, “May I?”

It’s the exact opposite of their interaction outside of Gale’s tent. She isn’t the one beckoning, the one nearly begging to be let in. That whisper of desperation clings to Astarion instead.

“You may,” she goes as far as to scoot over, leaving him more than ample space to sit on the patch of moss rather than in the dirt.

The sky has begun to bleed navy, darkening with each passing second. Time seems to stop as shadows creep up all around them, the moon preening over the horizon to catch a glimpse of them. The entire night seems to wait with bated breath, as though this is the first step of a very long journey, something entirely separate from the adventure they’ve embarked on with their odd companions and their dreadful tadpoles.

Something expected. Something delicate. Something remembered.

He’s just as graceful as he had been earlier as he descends to sit beside her easily, legs crossing but knees careful not to brush a single inch of her own thighs. A certain amount of distance is maintained. They’re not there yet.

“I don’t know all of what you remembered, and that is your secret to keep,” he starts off, uncharacteristically careful in his choice words, “But… if you happened to remember some bits of that childhood, the one you spoke of not having in the Grove…”

She doesn’t know why, but she’s more willing to be honest when it’s just them. When it’s just her, him, and the moon to bear witness to her vulnerability.

“It wasn’t quite my childhood,” she admits. She can’t let him know the full truth, that cleaved half of her soul has made sure to remind her of such as it burns in her chest, but she can at least tell him of this, “Just… It’s hard to explain. I was in a past memory, and in that moment, I just knew things about myself. Like… how I’m part drow, or how- how I’m somebody’s daughter.”

I was somebody’s daughter.

He’s quiet for too long for her liking.

“Does that even make sense?” she questions, turning to him, shoulders drooping in exhaustion, “I sound insane right now, don’t I?”

“You do,” he answers quickly, “You sound positively mad right now.”

“Great. Awesome. Perfect,” sarcasm drips off each staccatoed word she breathes out, face twisting with a scowl as she turns back from him.

She was going insane. She had a worm in her brain instead of memories, and she was going delirious. How fitting.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he chuckles at her flare of attitude, “There was a but somewhere in there, you know.”

“Was it something along the lines of, ‘but we need you to survive’, because-”

“But I think we’ve all earned a bit of insanity given our current circumstances.”

Her tongue falls silent, eyes wide as they glance his way. Darkness has fallen entirely upon them, but even in the shadows, she can catch the glint of his half-there smile. There’s a comfort about it that burrows somewhere deeper than she can reach, and it only reminds her of the letter still settled in her lap.

The letter.

Her sudden urgent awareness of her most prized secret clearly exposes itself over the tadpole connection, as Astarion’s eyes follow her own as she looks down to the parchment.

“Oh,” he livens up a bit, the heaviness of the moment slipping between their fingers at an alarming rate, “What do we have here?”

He reaches out with the intention to take the paper right out of her lap, but she’s faster. Ironic, given his vampiric status.

The page wrinkles ever so slightly within her eager fist as she holds it out of his reach. He’s almost unrelenting, beginning to lean forward and chase after it, until she snaps, “Don’t.”

Any playfulness is denied. Her heart races, hand shaking as she continues to hold it out, merely fooling herself that she has it out of his reach. If he really wants to, he’ll take it from her. Part of her knows such.

But part of her also trusted him to receive the message of denial, loud and clear. And he does.

His hands lift in surrender, looking at her surprised, “My apologies. I wasn’t aware you were so… protective of a piece of paper.”

“It’s not just a piece of paper.”

“What is it, then?”

And- well, she can’t answer him. Not truthfully. How does she even begin to explain it?

A letter from someone. Addressing me. Actually, I can’t be entirely sure that it’s addressing me – I just happened to be so unlucky as to find it near where I landed after the crash. And, oh, yes. Yes, it does indeed mention you by name. Why? Who knows.

“Just…. Just some letter,” as she says it, she’s already folding it back up, hands not working nearly fast enough for her need to keep away Astarion’s prying eyes.

“A letter?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to elaborate?”

“No.”

As Aruna finally shoves the letter back into her pouch, albeit with more care than necessary, Astarion is rolling his eyes, “What is it with our group and super secretive items?”

“Super secretive items?” Aruna’s fingers pause their smoothing out of the paper into a secure position, barely brushing against that opal stone at the bottom of her small velvetine bag, “Who else even has one besides me?”

“Shadowheart and her ridiculous polyhedron,” he sighs, leaning back into his own space, clearly putting on dramatics, “Gale and his… general magic. I swear the man jumped out of his skin when I questioned what he was conjuring in his hands the other night.”

“What was he conjuring?”

“If I knew, why would I be referring to it as a secretive item?”

Fair point. Aruna finally removes her hand out of the pouch and draws the gold cord tightly, “Right. Well, is there a point to all this, or are you just jealous you don’t have an item of your own?”

He rolls his eyes again, and she nearly makes a sarcastic joke about them getting stuck like that if he keeps it up.

“How many times must I tell you I’m not jealous?” Until I actually believe it, “I just find it peculiar, how those damned mind flayers seemed to have chosen the most secretive and elusive bastards they could get their hands on to shove a parasite into their brains.”

“Lae’zel seems to be an open book, if it’s any reconciliation to you.”

Aruna’s mind is wandering, absent-mindedly pulling at loose tufts of moss from below where she sits. She almost feels guilty, suddenly heavy from all the secrets she realizes she keeps. The letter, the stone, her memories – she’s gathering up quite the arsenal. She silently begs for Astarion’s honesty, for his own trust, but it seems she can’t even have the decency to award her own.

How is it any fair that she wishes for him to lower his own mask as she only raises hers higher?

“I could care less of Lae’zel’s secrets, if she were to have any,” Astarion snorts.

“Is that your way of saying you care about mine?”

“Please,” he chuckles, tilting his head in her direction, “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

It’s almost the same as the memory, if she closes her eyes and lets the moonlight seep into her skin. Playful banter, easy back and forth. For a second, even with the topic at hand, it feels like there may not be a mask in sight. Only two friends, gossiping. As if there isn’t an impending doom squirming in their brain matter. As if they’ve known each other a lifetime and not a week.

“You’re the one who seems insistent on interrogating me about my memories and my letter,” she reminds him, keeping a light-hearted tone.

She doesn’t really mind. Even if she feels terrible for not being able to reveal more to him. Which doesn’t make much sense, especially given that she knows he’s keeping a secret of his own.

“Ah, yes,” she sighs out wistfully, clearly forced and insincere, “My dreamy lover who gazes up at the stars with each passing night, mourning my absence and wishing for my safe return to his safe arms. Laugh lines I could follow to the ends of Faerun, hair that curls so delicately upon his ears-”

“I didn’t ask for you to begin to wax poetry,” he cuts her off. His lips betray him, twitching out of whatever grimace he was trying to put on, a glimmer of a smile beneath the surface, “I was simply making an astute observation. Surely you have someone waiting for you.”

And just like that, Aruna is deflating.

Because she doesn’t know if she does. She had the smallest of hopes that maybe a family would be awaiting her, but the memory has crushed all of those childish dreams. She might have a lover longing for her, but something inside of her stirs uncomfortably, as though that fate doesn’t quite align. For a quiet moment, Aruna is reminded of just how truly, terribly, scarily alone she is.

They all have someone. Surely, even Astarion has something waiting for him back in the city. Someone, something. And Aruna has nothing.

“Maybe,” she weakly whispers, glancing up at the moon.

Maybe, but I highly doubt it.

It’s meant to be a private thought, something forlorn for only her own personal pity party, but it slips down the connection before she can even think to close herself off.

Astarion’s head whips towards her, “You doubt it?”

She doesn’t have the right words, stricken with embarrassment and lingering sadness. She’s beginning to hate that connection, truly.

All she can do is look at him and try to not let too much of her uncertain despair seep into her violet eyes. To gauge his reaction in her silence with care, see if he’s receptive to her accidental vulnerability. It’s useless, though – she knows they shine with it, nearly brightly enough to have it reflected back in Astarion’s eyes for her to see in full force.

“You were somebody’s daughter once,” he repeats the thought that had carried him up to her to begin with slowly, voice nothing more than a whisper as he tests out the weight of the words on his tongue. And then he whispers it again, and she feels just how heavy he’s come to find them, “You were somebody’s daughter once.”

She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to dissect all that it means and have to say it all out loud. That loss only feels half hers – that past isn’t quite within her ownership yet.

Yet.

“Tell me something about your past,” she nearly begs as she takes deep breaths, forcing away the thoughts and her memory.

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

“You can either tell me,” she sniffs hard, blinking up at the night sky, focusing on a gathering of stars as the burn of her near tears retreat, “Or I can simply start rattling on about assumptions.”

She was somebody’s daughter once, but she is no longer, and there was no need for them to linger on the fact.

“Hm,” he’s watching her carefully, even when she doesn’t notice. Alert to all of her emotions and all of her attempts at a distraction. She’s just grateful he’s a good sport, willing to play along. The other might not have done the same, “Well, now I’m curious what these assumptions might be.”

“You were a tailor,” her tongue is rapid, quickly firing away, desperate for the change in the conversation, “Probably the best in all of Baldur’s Gate, given what I’ve seen of your tastes. You charged an arm and a leg, but you never spent a piece of the gold. It’s definitely all been piled into some grand underground safe that you would go and sit in as you stared at your riches each night before bed.”

It’s ridiculous, and he snorts so hard that he falls back against the tree.

“A tailor? May I ask what gave you that idea?”

They’re a tad bit closer now, at least physically. She can see clearly into his garnet eyes when she turns her head to face him tiredly.

She keeps her voice low, as though sharing a secret, “Your clothes. I can see the gold threading where you clearly stitched it back up yourself.”

His smile falls slowly, not entirely erasing itself from his features, but his eyes look off into the distance and she knows she’s nearly lost him. He’s floating away, somewhere faraway – back to what his life must have truly been.

“I’m not a tailor,” even his voice is drifting off. She resists the urge to reach into the air and capture them – capture him – back in the moment. There would only be the cool air of the night, anyways, slipping between her fingers, “Though it is a nice thought. You paint quite the pretty picture.”

A rush of emotions that don’t belong to Aruna suddenly floods her senses. A hunger, deep rooted and panging in her stomach. A fear, ever twisting and clawing with desperation like no other. Like fingernails digging through the dirt of a grave, like a year spent in solitude. It nearly suffocates her at the unexpectedness.

The tadpole connection works both ways.

Wherever he’s gone, it’s a painful place to be. Her need to bring him back to the here and now only rises.

“So no secret safe full of gold?” she attempts to keep up the bit, to see if he’ll bite.

“‘Fraid not, my sweet,” he murmurs in return, not taking the bait.

My sweet. She doesn’t think he’s noticed the new term of endearment slip off his tongue so naturally. It should alarm both of them, a boundary being overstepped after such little time of being acquaintances, but she swears she hears the moon sing and the shadows sigh in relief when he calls her it. Like he was always supposed to regard her with such adornment. Like his tongue was only ever sculpted to whisper pretty words to her and only her.

“If you weren’t a tailor, what were-” she cuts off before quickly correcting herself, “What are you?”

She knows. Gods, she knows what he is.

She knows what that hunger is. It should scare her.

But then his eyes find hers, and the cicadas begin to hum their song, and it doesn’t matter. She can see the focus reentering him, the slow drag of leaving behind the past as he returns to her. He’s still touched with a sadness, still reeks of a desperation she can’t understand, but he’s back.

“I was a magistrate,” he answers her. When his eyelashes flutter, she knows it’s only a half truth, “It was all terribly boring, to be honest.”

“I don’t even know what a magistrate is.”

“Ah, my dearest Aruna,” he grins slowly, rolling his head away from her, looking up between the branches that form the canopy over them, “There is so much to teach you.”

She doesn’t even notice. He’s talking, wildly spinning tales of what exactly a magistrate does, and she knows he’s exaggerating, but she can’t help but become entranced. She listens, and she laughs, and she offers up her full attention so freely that there’s no space for her to linger on three silly words.

It’s only later that night, once the fire has died down and she’s slipped into her bed roll, that Astarion’s voice begins to echo in her mind.

My dearest Aruna.

If it wasn’t for the man of the hour resting on the other side of the fire, she would have shot up at the realization. She hadn’t even noticed. The endearment rang out just as comfortably as my sweet had, drifting right over her head in the moment, but now it stares her dead between her eyes. Taunting. Mocking. Plaguing.

My dearest Aruna.

She clutches the letter extra tightly that night, between her fists and just out of sight within her bed roll, and doesn’t sleep a wink.

taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @writinginthetwilight @moonmunson @generalstephkenobi

if you'd like to join the taglist, simply let me know <3

#ghost's stories #the moon will sing #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #look at me. finally formatting this chapter for tumblr.

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mostly-just-sasuke-blog · 20 days

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"Naruto is generic and trope-y. It's not a deconstruction."

Naruto manufactures a whole myth about himself following conventional shonen archetypes. From the start we get this clear basic narrative from Naruto about how he views the world and in this narrative he is the "underdog hero main character" and in this narrative Sakura is his fated "love interest" and Sasuke is his "arrogant rival antagonist". Tropes taken straight from any basic shonen ... But this is not the reality. It's a myth manufactured by Naruto. Naruto isn't a hero. He is an oppositionally defiant, attention seeking kid who will do anything to get attention, who constantly demeans others, or, as with Sakura, harasses her to the point that he'll even disguise himself as Sasuke to trick her and almost steals her kiss (today we'd call this sexual assault actually). It's actually very understandable why sakura and the other kids disliked Naruto.

What's not understandable is why Sasuke of all people stands up for him and defends him. Because despite how Naruto narrates it, Naruto initiates every early conflict between the two, and Sasuke responds extremely graciously. In the first chapter we see Sasuke stand up for Naruto after Naruto had just attacked him. Sasuke offers Naruto his own food and who pulls team 7 together. Sasuke is the one who protects Naruto. Sasuke even asks Naruto for help and Naruto responds by throwing it in his face. Sasuke goes out looking for Naruto after he's been out all night. And Sasuke is the one who dies for Naruto and tells him to go fulfill his dreams with his last breath. But the problem is that most people buy into naruto's myth and see Sasuke and Naruto as these archetypes, when actually the story is deconstructing them. Naruto isn't a good guy. He isn't a superman. Or a Mary sue. Or a character who doesn't have development. He starts off as a neglected kid who is angry at the world, hiding behind the grand narrative he has manufactured for himself to give himself a purpose. How else could Naruto ask with all seriousness, "why a great ninja like himself was getting put on a team with a bad ninja like Sasuke?" Naruto lives in this delusional shonen narrative following basic archetypes of shonen because that's how kids think. Naruto sees the world in black and white and he imagines himself as the hero of his story, as all kids do. Sakura too has a generic shojo-like narrative in her head at the start which also gets completely torn apart. Why? Because the story is deconstructing these narratives. It takes Naruto until the end of part one to completely step outside of his imagined narrative and face reality. And only because he sees how it has actually hurt Sasuke. He takes responsibility for the part he himself played in destroying sasuke by treating him as if he were only a rival he wanted to defeat.

In reality Naruto felt a connection with Sasuke and admired him, but his fear led him to manufacture this fake narrative that kept him constantly treating Sasuke like the bad guy and keeping him at arms distance. And Sasuke believes that that is all Naruto sees him as. Not a human, but a means for Naruto to use prove himself. Just like most of the people in sasuke's life. That's why Sasuke says: 'this is what you've been waiting for' to Naruto. Because Naruto's acting like he only wanted to defeat Sasuke to prove himself has led Sasuke to believe it. This forces Naruto to shed his illusions and be honest with Sasuke for the first time. It doesn't stop Sasuke from leaving, but it does bring him back to holding onto his humanity and he won't kill Naruto for power.

Yes Naruto is a deconstruction. No, you're not supposed to just take things at face value or trust everything you're told. It's a show about ninjas and we are literally told in-story that you have to look beneath the surface. Itachi literally sums up one of the biggest messages, that people see reality as they expect it to be based on their own preconceptions. And the entire show is an example of that. People expect Naruto to be a typical shonen protagonist and Sasuke to be the typical shonen rival. And that's what people see. But if you actually look at the story you'll see that that is actually an illusion.

"Naruto and sasuke aren't actually two sides of the same coin. They're nothing alike actually."

If you think this, you don't understand the characters or the story. Mario and Sasuke are mirror images. Yin and yang.

Naruto is born with no identity, overlooked and underestimated. He dreams of becoming Hokage, the highest point of the social ladder and getting loved and respect by everyone, but he is neglected and alone. And then he is betrayed by someone he trusted... but right when he's at his lowest point, right when he could have lost his faith in humanity, Iruka comes in to restore that faith. And then he gains a team and a sensei.

And then Jiraiya.

And Tsunade.

And many others who come along beside him, and support him. Throughout the series Naruto gains more and more. He experiences the light of the ninja world.

Sasuke is born into a prestigious clan with a loving family, even if his brother and father are distant. Unlike Naruto, Sasuke doesn't dream big. His dreams are modest and driven entirely by filial piety. And then he is betrayed and tortured. No one comes in to rescue him. And Sasuke loses everything. And his family's reputation is now in the gutter and looked at with derision and scorn, and all eyes are on him to see if his clan were just frauds who never deserved their reputation. Sasuke constantly has eyes on him, evaluating him. People trying to defeat him just for the bragging rights. Sasuke gets put on team 7 with Naruto, but that's as far as his good luck goes with relationships. Because he's being targeted he never gets a chance to connect with his peers. He's rushed right out of the preliminary chunin exams and then arrives at the last minute at the arena for the actual event. He is targeted by Gaara, Orochimaru, and itachi. Except for Kakashi Sasuke has no good adult figures in his life who try to protect him, just adults who want to kill him or use him to further their own purposes. Sasuke experiences all the darkness of the ninja world. Literally. He literally spends three years underground. Everything sasuke has gets taken away.

And then taken away again.

So, yes, Naruto and Sasuke are two sides of the same coin. They are mirror images. Naruto starts the story desiring to be a heroic character, but his idea of heroism is shallow. In actuality he's more like the arrogant, jealous rival. Sasuke doesn't want to be a hero. Probably doesn't believe in heroes. But he's secretly kind and is empathetic to Naruto. And he's the one who makes the big heroic sacrifice at the end of the first arc.

And then they reverse roles.

Naruto starts to shed his insecurity and gains confidence. And Sasuke starts to lose his confidence and gain insecurity.

Naruto loses his distrust of people and stops being so antagonistic. Sasuke loses his trust of people and starts becoming very antagonistic.

Sasuke plays a big role in Naruto's rise, getting Sakura on board with trying to show Naruto more empathy, getting the team through the bell test, teaching Naruto the meaning of fighting to protect what is precious, teaching Naruto what self-sacrifice means. And Naruto plays a role in sasuke's fall, constantly antagonizing him. Looking to pick at any weakness. Keeping him distant. Of course these things on their own aren't enough to push him over the edge. In fact, at the start he takes it all in stride. So you'll forgive Naruto for believing he couldn't actually hurt Sasuke.... But then Sasuke gets targeted more and more and feels more and more useless, in a society where he's valued because of his usefulness. Naruto's jibes and attacks start to make an impact.

And the transposition of roles is completed.

#naruto #team 7 #sakura #naruto ramblings #naruto analysis #uchiha sasuke #pro sasuke

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s0nia246 · 1 month

Text

Prologue: Remnant's Resonance

(Thank you, everyone, for like my au and thank @melancholyofinvisibleshores for the ideas. So for bad writing. Blood and Gore warning)

All I remember was bright light, then a pitch black sky with no moon, yet the trees cast shadows, the leaves to color of blood.

My body was stuck to the ground like glue, and it’s only when my brain started waking up that I could move my limbs at all. Then came the pain.

The throbbing in my head as if someone had taken a hammer to my skull, my hands on fire, but they were too numb to notice any of this until the world came into focus.

It was so cold.

So very cold.

Where.... am I

Where is everyone......

What happened to Remnant.....

Did the plan work.....

did it not.....

No. It had to have worked.

I'm not dead. It was just a hallucination. An illusion brought on by exhaustion. That's all it was. A figment of my imagination. Just a dream. My subconscious must be going mad from trying to make sense of everything that has happened. I just gave to open my eyes to confirm, yet when I moved my neck, an intense, piercing, shooting pain shot through every nerve ending in my body that made me cry out in agony, clutching at my chest and screaming until tears streamed down my face.

What's happening to me?!

Why can't I move!

What has been done to me?!

How will I ever get out of here?!

My mind screamed.

This isn't real!

This isn't real! My inner voice repeated, trying desperately to convince myself that it wasn't real.

But it was really alright. I was stuck in some kind of forest with no clear path leading anywhere. Wait? This looks familiar....am I in the Everfall forest? But how did I get here?

Ruby quickly sat up as all her memories flooded back to her. Everything she had done and what she knew about came flooding in. Her teammates, their mission, her friends, Fighting Salem, everything.

She looked around for anything that could help her escape this place. The trees, trees everywhere! They seemed to cover every available inch of land within sight. There didn't appear to be a way to climb them even if there was a path she could see in front of her.

Nothing.

Just endless foliage all around her. Pain started to spread through her lower abdomen, which prompted Ruby to try and sit more upright.

The pain intensified, making her grip her stomach tightly in order to stop herself from screaming anymore. But the pain kept spreading through her whole body, and before she knew it, she was crying uncontrollably again.

The pain then went up her body to her lungs and throat, and she couldn't control it anymore! She put her hand over her mouth as she felt something coming out of it ..something red... blood.

No no no no no NO!

I don't want this to be real!!

Please, God no!

Don't take this from me.

I can't handle anything else right now!

Not today! Not now! Please! Someone! Anyone, please help me!!! Help her!!!! Save her!!!!!!!!!!!

She threw up in her hand as she continued sobbing loudly, feeling helpless as her entire body shook from a wave of grief.

As the last thing that left her lips was 'Please no, please no', she let go. After everything she had experienced that night alone, she finally allowed herself to collapse onto her side, curling into a fetal position as she continued to scream in anguish.

Her blood landed on the snow like a crimson waterfall, and soon, her body grew colder with each passing second. Soon enough, she began shivering violently as cold sweat dripped down her face and fell onto the ground.

She looked down at her bloody throw up and noticed a gold scepter adorned with intricate engravings.

"How did that come out of me?" Ruby thought as she picked up scepter. It was as big as her hands. She puts the Relic on her belt loop as she she looked around at her surroundings once more, still seeing nothing but forest, trees, and more woods.

Nothing changed.... was that opening always there?

Ruby squinted her silver eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever had caused her such extreme discomfort, hoping it would disappear like the rest of the scenery. It didn't, though, even after staring at the dark horizon for nearly 30 minutes without seeing a thing.

The only difference between the surrounding forest was the large patch of ice where she had thrown up, and her blood stained the snowy landscape.

"Why is her grave her?" Ruby had the get up. She had to see if it was true.. If she truly was Summer's grave.

She struggled to get up, using her hands and arms to push herself upright against the tree trunk that supported her. Each time she tried, the pain got worse.

Every time she took a step towards her late mother's grave though, it stopped. Like the pain was somehow negated by the snow. Or maybe... it was because of the ice covering the ground.

Either way, it made her feel better. She was getting somewhere. She had to keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, no matter how painful or agonizing it might be. Ruby was strong, tougher than she looked, she reminded herself as she pushed forward, trying to ignore the pain radiating throughout her whole body.

"Summer Rose / Thus Kindly I Scatter." Read her mother's grave stone. She read them slowly as she limped forward.

She stared at the letters etched in the smooth white rock, feeling her legs start giving out under her. It hurt so much. All of her muscles ached, especially her legs and arms. And she felt hot and cold. She was sweating profusely, and she couldn't seem to control her shaking.

She leaned against the gravestone, placing one knee to the ground and using it for support before she slumped down to the ground, letting herself fall to the ground in a heap, the everything was on her mind, she just want to talk to anyone at this point.

"Please. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you scared? Am I too late?"

Her silver eyes looked up over the cliff edge, and her eyes widened in fear. A large pool of ink-black liquid that fills the lake below her glowed a deep red as blood spilled from the edges. It ran over the rocks, forming a wide pool of thick black ink before spilling out into the frozen waters of Lake Everglade.

As she watched, horrified, a large unknown grimm jumped from the surface and swam towards her, grabbing onto the edge of the stone.

They are far more terrible than every Grimm she has ever encountered, and they are advancing towards her, their murmurs forming discernible words now:

"You are Little Red Riding Hood! Little Red Riding Hood, you are! You play with the birds, the bees, and the woods! Your name is Little Red Riding Hood! Your name is Ruby Rose!"

Hearing her name spoken by the Grimm company is what breaks Ruby out of her stupor. In a heartbeat, she activates her semblance and zooms out of the clearing.

"Don't run Ruby. Everyone misses you. We're so glad you decided to come back. Come on home now!" the grimm voices called out in unison. One of them added, "It's okay now. We miss you very much." before fading away completely. "We'll be waiting for you. We love you."

Ruby felt tears run down her cheeks, as another thought crossed her mind:

What have I become...?

@weiss-royal-schnee @surefootcleric

#rwby #rwby au #au #original story #ruby rose #Rwby rose #I'm bad at writing #Spotify

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 2 months

Text

Drugs, Thugs and Pilot Kelson Hugs: Part 4

Pairing: Pilot Kelson x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Drugs, Alcohol, Smut, Illusions of Cheating.

Summary: A misunderstanding is cleared up, feelings are confessed.

- Part 3 Here -

——————————

“Pilot?“ you cried, your hand flying up to your mouth to muffle your inadvertent whimper.

Pilot was pinned up against the outer wall, Lucy had her lips locked to his, both of her hands on either sides of his face.

Pilot pushed Lucy off of him, his panicked eyes darting to you.

“(Y/N), it’s not what it looks like. I-“ he pleaded, trying to get passed Lucy, who was hanging onto him desperately.

“No!” You shouted, backing away. “You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to make me lower my guard and then do this! How dare you?” You cried, glaring at him.

“I promise this isn’t what it looks like! We were just talking and then she-“ he started but you held a hand up to stop him, not interested in what he had to say.

“Stop, just… stop. I can’t believe I thought you were ready for this, I am so stupid!” Tears slipped from your eyes as you looked at him one last time before turning around and leaving. Carly, having seen your body language through the glass door, came outside to make sure everything was ok.

Pilot tried to chase after you but Carly held up a hand and glared at him, “No, just leave her alone for a moment, I’ll go.” She said, and went after you.

Pilots shoulders slumped, this was all just a big misunderstanding. He glared at Lucy as he ripped his arm out of her grasp and stalked off back into the bar.

——————————————

“(Y/N)! Stop, just wait for me okay? God, girl, I can’t run in heels!” Carly called after you. You huffed and stopped, arms crossed and angry tears streaming down your face.

“Hey… what happened?” She asked, finally catching up to you.

“Pilot… he… him and Lucy!” Was all you could say before you burst into tears again.

Carly’s face softened as she pulled you into a hug, “Oh I am so going to kill him!” She huffed over your shoulder.

“I’m going home, Carly.” You said, giving her a squeeze before turning to leave. You walked home alone, Carly had left her things at the bar with Porter so had to go back, but you welcomed the alone time to think.

You felt betrayed and hurt, you had trusted Pilot and that’s why you didn’t have an issue leaving him and Lucy to talk alone, but now you felt stupid.

That night you struggled to sleep. You tossed and turned, and had nightmares about the spiky haired boy and the redhead girl.

————————————

Carly returned to the bar, and Pilot ran up to her.

“Where is she?” He asked, noticing Carly hadn’t brought you back with her, panic setting in.

“She went home Pilot. You really fucked up.” She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, grabbing her purse and telling Porter she was leaving too, no longer in the mood to enjoy herself.

Pilot sat down with his head in his hands, he knew he’d fucked up, but it really wasn’t what it looked like.

Pilot had gone outside with Lucy under the ruse of talking things out somewhere quieter. Things had been awkward after the breakup, Lucy not having taken it well, and he felt like he owed her an explanation and apology.

She said she was struggling to hear him over the music and asked if they could go outside. Pilot looked around for you to let you know, but you were still in the bathroom with the girls. He thought he could make it quick, and followed Lucy outside.

The cool air filled his lungs and they moved off to the side of the building, out of the way of patrons walking in and out through the glass doors. Pilot leaned up against the brick wall.

“Listen Lucy, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I left things. I know I didn’t give you any reason when I ended things, so I’m sorry. I have no bad feelings towards you, I was just young and stupid and wanted something else from life.” He admitted, his hands behind him, cushioning his back against the wall.

Lucy looked at Pilot with lustful eyes, “Thanks, that means a lot. I’ve done a lot of… growing, since we broke up. I’ve changed a lot.” She said, her skimpy dress having ridden up as she jutted out a long leg.

“Uh, yeah? You look good.” He smiled politely, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the way she was looking at him. “Look I don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, I’m in a really happy relationship. It was good to see you again but-“ Lucy cut him off with a finger to his lips, she shushed him and Pilot stood against the wall, shocked and confused.

“I know, I know. I’m not saying you should leave her or anything but I think we owe it to ourselves to see if there’s any…. tension left between us. You know?” She purred, closing the distance between them.

“No?” Pilot mumbled against her finger, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. “Lucy I don’t think-“

Lucy, clearly either under the wrong impression or simply too stubborn to care, removed her finger and smashed her lips into Pilots, pressing her body firmly into his, pinning his hands against the wall behind him. Her hands holding his head in place.

It was at that exact moment you walked outside, not realising what had just happened and that Pilot was trying to free his hands to push Lucy away. It looked so much worse than it was and Pilot needed to explain this to you.

He tried calling you as he practically ran to your apartment, you didn’t answer.

He knocked on your door, for what felt like hours. You still didn’t answer.

He texted you over and over, but you had turned your phone off.

He groaned with frustration as he eventually gave up and walked home. He would give you space and hoped you’d come to him for an explanation, but days passed and there was no sign of you.

Pilot decided to show up at your work, but your colleagues refused to let him in no matter how much he pleaded. He could see you through the glass windows, and you locked eyes with him, but with a frown you turned around and continued with your work.

Pilot grew miserable, holding up in his apartment, getting high every day. He kept trying to call you, but you never answered.

You went on with your life, trying to push his big blue eyes out of your mind. It was a lot harder than you ever imagined, your thoughts were plagued by him 24/7. He invaded your dreams, where you were happy with him again, like things were before that night, only waking up to remember that had all been snatched away. He clouded your judgement at work, to the point where your boss asked you to take a week or two off. You’d kindly accepted, deciding to visit family in California.

The two weeks you’d spent in California were refreshing. You’d managed to take your mind off of the situation, realising the crisp sea air did wonders. It was a good distraction, although it didn’t completely remove Pilot from your mind, it helped to quiet the constant buzzing.

You decided during those two weeks that maybe it was time for a change.

————————————

Pilot lay slumped on his couch watching mindless tv, a joint in his hand, eyes bright red from the weed and from crying. He had given up on trying to contact you, having exhausted all options for the last month.

He was lost in thought, thinking about holding you and touching you and just loving you the way he did, when his phone rang.

Carly’s name flashed on his screen, and it took him a couple moments to answer.

“Hello?” He mumbled.

“Pilot… I think you’re a dick, but I also think you deserve at least one chance to explain yourself to (Y/N), even if just for closure. She’s moving to California, literally helping her box up her stuff now. If you still care about her, get your ass over here now.” She whispered, the echo indicating she was in your bathroom. Carly hung up, and Pilot sat staring at the phone in his hands, trying to process what she had just said.

————————————

You and Carly packed and taped up boxes moving from room to room. You had already managed to do most of the house when Carly excused herself to use the bathroom. She had been quiet all day, which you chalked up to her being sad you were leaving.

You appreciated Carly and all of her help, she always did what was best for you, even if she didn’t like it.

Carly came out of the bathroom and an hour later you’d both finished taping up the final boxes and loading them on the truck. The apartment now clean and empty, you sighed, realising there was nothing else to do.

It was getting dark outside and you had a long drive ahead of you. “I guess I’d better get going.” You said sadly. Carly’s eyes glistened as she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Don’t go.” She whispered.

You just sighed, she knew you had to if you were going to ever get over Pilot. There were too many reminders of him here.

The bar where you had your first dance. The apartment where you had your first kiss, and made love for the first time, and many more times after that.

The strip where he took you for a date night and where you’d had so much fun your cheeks hurt the next day.

The chapel you passed where Pilot ‘joked’ he would marry you one day.

You had to get out of the city of memories, and the beach was just the place.

You squeezed Carly and gave her the apartment keys, which she had agreed to give to your landlord the next morning.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You said tearfully, backing out of the apartment door.

She nodded, and you left before you both had the chance to start crying.

You quickly walked down the back flight of stairs towards the truck which had been pulled round the back of the building so to not block the front entrance.

Carly stood in your apartment, walking around slowly to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

“(Y/N)?!” She heard someone call at the front door a few minutes later.

Pilot ran in, his eyes frantically searching the empty apartment.

Carly walked out of the bedroom, “Pilot, she’s gone. You just missed her.” She said to him sadly.

Panic took over his face, “How long?” He asked.

“Probably 2 or 3 minutes ago. Down the back stairwell. She’s probably gone.” She said, sad for him, crossing her arms.

Pilot cursed himself, he had taken too long to leave his apartment, planning what he would say, even stopping to buy flowers but changing his mind.

He turned on his heels and bolted towards the back stairwell, flying down with such speed he thought he may fall. He burst out the back door to an empty street. Your truck was gone.

He cursed, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

“Fuck!” He yelled loudly, pacing in circles, unable to believe he’d let you slip away. He wanted to cry, to scream. How could he have let this happen?

He closed his eyes to stop the sting of tears from taking over, and ran his hands over his face.

“Pilot?” A soft voice brought him out of the pit he found himself in. He removed his hands from his face and turned around.

“(Y/N)?” He breathed, relief washing over his entire body, his bottom lip quivered.

You stood in front of him on the dark, empty street. You had forgotten to give Carly your letterbox keys, and had parked the truck on the corner of the street, making your way back.

“What are you doing here?” You asked softly, not expecting to see him distraught, outside your building.

“I thought you were gone. I have never felt so scared in my life.” He whispered, his shoulders slumping.

You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but you were still hurt and mad at him.

“I needed to explain what happened that night. Even if it doesn’t change anything, I just need you to know.”

You nodded, prompting him to continue.

He explained what happened that night, and you felt sad. You realised the misunderstanding but it was too late. You had never felt pain like you had when you thought Pilot had betrayed you, and you were too scared to go through that again. That was the problem when you cared about someone the way you did about Pilot. The stronger the feelings, the stronger the pain when it all went wrong.

“That doesn’t change things.” You said softly, “That doesn’t change the fact that… it broke me. I don’t want to go through that again. If that means I never find someone who I feel this way about again, then that’s how it will have to be. I can’t risk that pain again.”

Pilot stepped closer to you slowly, his eyebrows pinched together sadly.

You shook your head, taking a step back as your eyes shone, threatening to spill over.

“Baby…” he cooed, still walking closer to you, his hand held out as if approaching a frightened animal. “That day that I told you how I felt, I left out one thing.” He admitted.

You stood still, hearing him out.

“I told you that you made me feel electric, you made burn, you made me drunk. That was all true, every last word.” His eyes burned into yours. “But I didn’t tell you that the moment I saw you, the moment our eyes locked that first night in the bar… I realised that I knew you already.” He said, finally reaching you. His hand cupping your cheek as your tears spilt over.

“I know we’d never met before then, but our souls, baby, our souls… I don’t know how to describe it but we must have been together in past lives or something, we must be reliving our love story over and over and over, because I know you on a deeper level. Before you I felt lost, now I just can’t imagine a world without you in it.” He breathed, his forehead resting on yours. You giggled through your tears.

“You believe in reincarnation?” You joked.

Pilot chuckled, “That’s the one part you focused on, huh?”

Your light mood quickly disappeared as you pulled back to look into his eyes.

“How do I know this isn’t just some shlep you pull on every girl?” You asked sadly.

Pilot looked at you, his eyes sad and shook his head.

“I can only try and prove to you every day from here on out that you are the only one I will ever want.” He stroked your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear.

“It’s too late, Pilot.” You cried. Your bungalow in California was already signed in for a 12 month lease and the truck was packed. You had already quit your job.

“No it’s not, (Y/N), I love you. I LOVE you. I will do what it takes to make this work. You make me crazy, like nothing else ever has, and I can’t lose this.” He begged.

“I love you too.” You sobbed, you’re heart breaking, “but I’ve gotta go.” You pulled out of his grasp and handed him the letterbox key, turning around and walking away.

Pilots heart shattered, he couldn’t lose you again.

“Wait!” He called. You stopped in your tracks, your back still facing him.

“Let me come with you.” He asked, “Without you there’s nothing left for me here. I want to come with you. We can start a new life, just you and I.”

You turned around slowly, shocked that he would even consider leaving Vegas and his best friend Jack.

“Would you be happy there?” You asked.

“I will be happy anywhere as long as I’m with you. Plus, who can resist the beach?” He smiled genuinely.

You laughed, a huge smile taking over your face.

“Okay.” You said, shaking your head incredulously as you couldn’t believe it as the word left your mouth. This was probably too fast, but you couldn’t deny how he made you feel. You were madly and undeniably in love with the man who stood in front of you.

You closed the distance between the two of you and jumped into Pilots arms. He kissed you deeply, having so desperately missed you.

“I will never stop proving how much I love you.” He whispered against your lips.

——————————————

- Final Chapter Here -

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal gif #jake gyllenhaal gifs #quentin beck #character: elwood dalton #donnie darko #jack twist #movie: road house #gyllenhaaledit #david loki #detective david loki #detective loki #jake gyllenhaal x reader #pilot kelson #pilot kelson x reader #highway 2002 #highway

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eternalchiyo · 2 months

Text

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜 ~𝔻𝔸ℝ𝕂 04~

Summary: Chiyo snaps.

Word Count: 2360

She was floating in nothingness. Heavy fog surrounded her. There was no ground below her feet and yet she tried to take a step forward, what other option would she have anyway? Chiyo took a few steps, but it did not seem like she was moving forward at all.

What was this place?

The thick fog made it hard for her to see, but she felt as if she wasn’t alone. An unsettling feeling creeped over her, but her feet dragged her into a certain direction. It was as if something called for her.

“You finally came,” a feminine voice said.

“Who’s there?!” Chiyo tried to cry out, but the sound of her voice came out muffled.

Suddenly she saw a faint silhouette of what she assumed was the woman that called out to her before.

“You’ve finally come,” the woman’s arms reached forward and her hands cupped Chiyo’s face, “my Lilith.” The touch felt so familiar for some reason.

“Lilith…” the woman said, “why did you leave Adam?”

Chiyo’s eyes widened. There was no way, could it really be? She wanted to say something, call out to the woman in front of her, but there was no voice coming out.

Soon enough, she was alone in the foggy darkness again.

Rocking back and forth, back and forth. Like a baby in a cradle.

It had been a while since Chiyo felt so warm. She wanted to stay there forever, wherever this place was. But where was she? And what was this familiar scent?

Lavender and honey.

Shuu.

Chiyo moved her head slowly, the terrible headache starting to become more prominent. It must have been from before when she hit her head. She opened her eyes and saw his broad shoulders in front of her.

Was he carrying her?

Groaning softly, she rested her chin on his shoulder, messy blond locks tickled her cheek. He didn’t react.

“What happened?” she asked.

Her voice was groggy, and her head increasingly felt like someone has been pounding at it with a massive hammer for hours on end. She could see some of the other’s walking along the forest path in front of them.

“The limousine crashed,” Shuu said.

So, they were walking home? Chiyo leaned more into Shuu and closed her eyes again. She needed a little bit more rest and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she still couldn’t help but enjoy being this close to him. Just for a little while longer, she thought. Just for a little while she wanted to pretend that nothing bad ever happened between them; that everything was fine.

She couldn’t help but destroy the illusion.

“Why did you kiss her?”

Shuu stopped abruptly in his tracks.

“Get off.”

“What– “

“I said get off, are you deaf?”

Reluctantly, she complied.

Her legs felt wobbly against the ground, but Shuu did not seem to care and continued to walk ahead of her.

“Wait,” Chiyo said.

Shuu turned around. He was annoyed, she could clearly see it on his face. The way he looked at her practically screamed to carry on speaking already.

“Don’t you think it’s enough already?”

Her voice strained, trying to keep herself composed. She really did not want to cry in front of him and she clung onto that resolution desperately. How long did he intend to keep on going like this? Clearly neither of them was happy.

“Don’t you think you have proven your point enough?” she said, “I understand, you hate me, so stop it already.”

“Prove a point?” he huffed, “There is no point to prove. I could not care less about you.”

Lies.

Chiyo took in a deep breath. This was all too much for her to handle.

“Then why? Why do you keep on hurting me on purpose?!”

It was horrible having to admit that what he did actually hurt her. But how was she supposed to go on? There was no way she could go on living with him when he kept doing this to her. The whole thing seemed like a sick and twisted joke.

Her voice came out louder than she intended and made the others, who were already further ahead of them, turn around to see what was going on.

Shuu was taken aback but the girl did not leave him any time to react.

“Why did you show up to save me when I was being attacked, only to push me away moments after?! Why do you kiss others in front of my eyes?! Why do you do with my body as you please and then pretend nothing ever happened?! Yes, you’re so indifferent, aren’t you?!”

There was exactly one thing Chiyo hated about Shuu, and it was how he always pretended he didn’t care about anything. Her face felt hot, angry tears streaming down her cheeks, her resolution not to cry in front of him long forgotten. Out of breath from yelling all the things she kept inside her for so long, she looked up at him. Seemingly unfazed, he stood in front of her.

“Get off your high horse already. I don’t care about you in the least anymore,” he said. His voice seemed calm. Forcibly disinterested; she did not buy it.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Chiyo said in disbelief, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you say that.”

“Do you think I owe you anything?” he made a step forward, glaring at her. “You’re the one coming here suddenly, expecting what exactly? Hospitality? Don’t make me laugh.”

Chiyo was speechless. Shuu rarely got angry in a way that he raised his voice like that. It scared her. Would he be able to do harm to her if she kept on pushing? Probably.

“Cut it out immediately, both of you!” Chiyo saw Reiji come closer out of the corner of her eye but kept on glaring at Shuu. His voice sounded distant to her.

“We have other, more pressing issues to take care of and all you can think about is starting this pathetic fight in front of everyone and put your pitiful failed relationship on display? You truly are good for nothing.”

They both turned to glare at Reiji. At least one thing they could agree on.

“Hurry up already,” he said, “Chiyo, I need you to fill me in on every detail about your encounter with Mukami Ruki, make yourself useful in some way at least.”

He turned to Shuu: “And you, frankly I do not care about what you do, as long as you keep out of the way.” Chiyo felt as if she saw Shuu roll his eyes at his younger brother before he put his earbuds back in and took off, leaving her behind with Reiji. She couldn’t help but actually feel embarrassed, it wasn’t really comforting to know that the whole family now was witness to how broken her relationship with Shuu really was.

She wanted to die.

Reiji was serious when he said he wanted to hear every little detail about her encounter with Ruki. She even had to explain her weird Mocha incident, which was the reason she ended up in the alleyway in the first place. There was not really much to deduct from this though, as she could be replaced with any other girl. Vampires did hunt for humans occasionally after all. On further thought, their meeting was hardly a coincidence.

When they arrived at home Yui told everybody about the weird dream she had while they were knocked out. A mysterious person had called her Eve and told her that she needed to find her Adam. Chiyo was not an expert on Bible studies, obviously, but it did not elude her that both their dreams mentioned Adam. She decided to keep the information about her own dream to herself though. Something told her it was not the right time to bring it up.

“Why did you leave Adam?”

That was what the mysterious woman in her dream had asked, but who was she? Chiyo had her suspicions, but could it really be? The touch she had felt had been so warm and loving. Almost like the one of a… Mother…?

But that was impossible, wasn’t it? She never met her own mother, that woman died during childbirth, and she was sure she would have never been this gentle towards her if she were alive. And why did she call her Lilith?

“Do you think those Mukami bastards might be behind the crash?” Subaru asked.

“Yes, it all is a little bit too convenient don’t you think?” Laito said.

Well, all those things happening at the same time did seem a little suspicious, Chiyo agreed with that.

“Indeed, it would be best to proceed with caution,” Reiji said, “we should keep an eye on Yui as well.”

Chiyo rolled her eyes. Yes, of course, let’s protect the human girl, while Chiyo was the one who almost got sucked dry. Obviously, that didn’t seem to be their priority right now.

Well, she also did not tell anybody about that before so maybe the fault was hers.

Moving on, everybody agreed it would be easier if Yui chose one of them to keep an eye on her. Ayato was the obvious choice; he was always swarming her like a mosquito anyway.

Chiyo kept on brooding over her own strange dream. She needed to find out who or what Lilith was first. If it was in any way connected it must have been something biblical. She doubted there was enough source material in the Sakamaki family library though; Vampires and the Bible did not seem like that good of a match. Although Yui’s sole presence in this house would have you believe otherwise. She did manage to find a copy of the bible, though Chiyo really did not feel like scanning the whole book for any mentions of that name.

There was the option to scout the school library for more source material, but she could also ask Yui for help. The idea of being dependent on a human displeased her.

She decided to keep that option in the back of her head, hopefully she would never need it.

The next day Chiyo made a beeline to the library, not even thinking about joining classes that night. The thought of accidentally meeting Shuu there made shivers run down her spine. She tried to keep her mind on the task at hand but nevertheless it kept on wandering back to the fight from the other night.

You’re the one coming here suddenly, expecting what exactly? Hospitality? Don’t make me laugh.

There had to be some deeper meaning to his words. There always was with Shuu.

Well, he wasn’t wrong probably. Since the order came from King Karlheinz there had to be some reason. Some reason related to the dream perhaps. Which in turn meant she had to get to the bottom of this first if she wanted to make some sort of progress! It wasn’t like she could just ask for an audience and ask the King what exactly he tried to do. She’d lose her head in the process most likely.

Suddenly, she felt strangely cold. She looked around; was someone stalking her? Her heart nearly stopped when she saw a pair of steel-grey eyes stare at her. Luckily, she had her emotions in check and suppressed the need to scream her soul out.

Him again!

“My, you look like a deer in headlights. I can’t say I dislike that frightened look in your eyes,” Ruki said.

Chiyo frowned at him.

“Maybe I wouldn’t look like that, if you didn’t sneak up on me like a creep,” she said.

Ruki, who had been sitting at one of the desks, looked like he was lost in thoughts for a second, before he stood up and leisurely walked over to where Chiyo was standing. She was now trapped between him and the corner shelf.

“I’ve been here for quite a while now. Maybe little girls like yourself should exercise more caution while being in a school full of monsters?”

Chiyo looked up at him, still frowning. Life was hard when all of your opponents were taller than you. She didn’t feel comfortable in Ruki’s presence at all, his aura had something she couldn’t quite place. Still, she forced herself to stand her ground. She was not gonna give away that she was actually a little bit scared of him.

Ruki looked her up and down and it made her skin crawl.

“I like the bratty look on your face,” he said, “or rather, I want to know which punishment would turn it into one of complete obedience.”

Chiyo’s eyes widened in shock and her face suddenly felt way too hot. She took a step back and bumped against the shelf.

Ruki let out a soft laugh.

“Did that excite you?”

Chiyo tried to regain some of her composure and forced her face back into the frown she was giving him before.

“Obviously not,” she said.

However, she wasn’t so sure herself. She just hoped it was convincing enough for Ruki to finally leave.

The bell rang, indicating the end of the first period and Chiyo could feel the relief. Soon the hallways would be filled with students, which would hopefully put Ruki off from pestering her further.

“That’s too bad,” he said and made his way back to the desk he had previously been sitting at. He collected the book that was still laying there before turning back to Chiyo again.

“You know where to find me if you ever change your mind.”

Chiyo watched him walk out of the library as she tried to calm her nerves again. Her hands were trembling, and her heart was pounding like crazy in her chest. What was this feeling? Disgust hopefully?

Something about Ruki made her unable to keep her emotions in check properly. Usually, she had minimal issue with staying stoic or composed enough, it gave her the creeps how it didn’t work with that person. She hoped that her book hunt would put her mind at ease at least.

#(( author making chiyo suffer for 30 minutes straight ))#((I still feel like I suck at writing ruki properly ))#everlasting spark #admin writes #dark 04 #fanfiction #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers oc #dialovers

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raayllum · 10 months

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to build on your recent ask, and just to pick your brain a little (gross metaphor, I know), when you said:

"To me, the coins could never have been permanent, otherwise there's very little reason to have them exist. After all, if the parents can't be freed and/or come back, why not just kill them? It'd effect the story the same way... unless they come back." I wonder, in your experience and education in literature, do you think it is feasible/would be an effective avenue of storytelling for the writers to use the (theoretical) inability to free the coined elves as a plot device to teach Rayla about moving on, and that she can't save everyone? she is portrayed as a very determined--and sometimes obsessive--character, and I can recall the writers bringing up her strong devotion to freeing the elves as something that should be questioned (though I do believe this will involve her allowing herself to let Callum/the others help). But, nevertheless, what are your thoughts?

The thing about Rayla is that her determination, and her wanting to save everyone isn't a Flaw, per se. If anything, it's the best thing about her, and the story points that out time and time again (1x03 with the boys, 1x05 with Bait, 1x09 with Zym, 2x07 with the dragon, 3x05 with Nyx): "You have true courage, and a big heart" / "It's because Rayla is a hero. Rayla's brave. She saves people. She does what's right [....] That's what makes her a hero. That's what makes her Rayla."

It's just not only a virtue, as like real people, most of TDP's cast's best qualities are also their worst ones, depending on the circumstance. Callum can also be obsessive with magic, after all (1x04, 2x01, 2x04, 4x02) but that doesn't mean him being a mage isn't his path, or not a Good path for him, particularly when it comes to primal magic. But his persistent, perpetually pushing nature also means he can be impulsive and bite off more than he can chew, unknowingly getting in over his head before it's too late. (Whereas Rayla tends to have a better cognition of her bad odds, but just less concern over them.) If Callum's 'bad path' is being a dark mage, Rayla's 'bad path' is being a loner assassin who takes everything on alone, y'know? Those paths are both from the same places, but there are always more options than the roles they've had enforced on them or have taken up because it feels like they don't have any other choice in war, even if they have/had good intentions regardless.

This also comes back to like, Rayla's relationship with letting go vs holding on. If anything, Rayla has a laser focus on moving on - "We have to keep moving" (1x09) / "Fine, one extra day. One" (2x01) / "Rayla, you're pushing us to move too fast" (3x02) / "I'm fine, Callum, like I already told you [...] We walk away and this never happened" (3x04) - that operates to her detriment, because it's usually when she's ignoring her own pain to prioritize the mission, or putting the mission above most things (other than the boys). If she doesn't linger on her pain/mistakes, she can pretend more easily that it doesn't exist (not "I don't want to talk right now" but "There's nothing to talk about," if you will). Illusions and erasure and all that - very Moonshadow

C: So, uh, yesterday must've been a hard day for you. R: Not really.

We see this even when she comes back in S4 and her attempts to "get things back the way they were" and even her almost complete prioritization of how Callum feels, and very little regard to how she feels (outside of being nervous to see him, which 4x05 quickly reveals is the least of how she's been emotionally damaged).

And this, of course, is because Rayla is very bad, actually, at letting things go. She holds on mistakes, she repeats the same patterns of herself and others who loved but hurt her, and that's why all her self deprecation talk is very similar across the seasons

I messed up. I know I did. (1x02) / You should cut yourself a break. Everyone messes up sometimes, or in my case, all the times. [...] Right up until moment when it really matters. That's when I just, poof, mess it up... And the next thing I know, I've failed. / I dropped it. This is all my fault. I let you both down. I let the world down. (1x09) / I need my friend to trust me, and he doesn't. And I think it's my fault. (2x02 / But every time I tried, I would mess it up, and the next time it was harder, and-- (2x03) / I failed them. It was my fault we were discovered. (3x03) / It's me, and it's all my fault. I failed them. I let them all down. They were right to reject me. I'm not good enough and I never will be. (3x04) / Oh no, I messed up again! [...] This is all my fault. I left him alone. I shouldn't have-- (4x06)

Rayla is someone who is selfless to the point she doesn't know how/when to be selfish, which causes her to be selfish in ways that are extremely detrimental to herself and to the other people around her. In a lot of ways, her inability to move on is an inability to let go of her negative self perception of herself: she fears that failure for her is inevitable ("I'm sure it would've flopped when it was my turn"), she's so terrified of being alone yet continually isolates herself because that seems safer, and because of these negative perceptions, she unfairly punishes herself. For her own mistakes, and for others.

Harrow: I recognize that I may pay the price for our mistakes. / I won't hide in the body of another while someone else pays the price for my decisions. (1x02) Rayla: It will just get tighter and tighter until I lose my hand. But I'm ready to pay that price. (1x06) / But if I die, I'll just be paying the price they should've paid a long time ago. (3x08)

Callum: But you didn't run. They have it all wrong. Rayla: Does it matter? (3x03) Claudia: We're not going to the dungeons, Soren! We didn't do anything wrong. (3x02)

So Rayla wanting to prioritize something over the mission that's not for the good of someone else (Callum, the dragon, Nyx, etc) but for something that she personally wants is a massive departure for her and gives her all sorts of room to grow. However, it remains to be seen if Rayla will view it like that. I could see her see saving her parents as a form of 'redemption' - even though she didn't fail them like, at all, but again: it's Rayla we're talking about. Turning it into a duty would be very on brand. "This is a journey for redemption" and all that, even if like... she doesn't Need to redeem herself.

There's layers there then, of her being 'selfish' (wanting something for herself, it being her family) and of being too 'selfless' again, semi similar to her choice to leave in TTM. Because Rayla's inability to let go is unable to be separated from the way she continually punishes/loathes herself; that's what she can't put down, the mistakes and failures she feels responsible for that she'll destroy herself to try and correct, to ensure she pays the price so that no one else has to. That's why she's obsessive about Viren (protection, punishment, self-martyrdom) and prepared to stay behind at the Storm Spire.

Her choices to save and protect Zym are a little different. She, like the princes, wants to make up for her parents' mistakes, yes, but it goes deeper than that - she truly believes that this is right and has the power to change the world for the better, to break the cycle rather than perpetuate it. To make a difference, not as a trauma response, but in the vein of healing.

TLDR; to summarize, I think Rayla's parents, particularly Runaan, have a great capacity to help her unlearn the harmful patterns they've passed down, whether because she's grown beyond them and can help her parents do the same, or in seeing their behaviour and correcting hers, or in having them realize how they messed her up, and saving her right back.

None of this really touches on how TDP's hero side is staunchly big on protecting the value of the individual, and their right to exist/thrive without prejudice/expectation, by laying yourself down (as opposed to offering up others' lives), but I think that's absolutely a component as well. TDP's hopepunk theme - Breaking the cycle, working towards harm reduction, reconciling rather than reinforcing binaries - are all in favour of saying "you can't save everyone, but you should still always Try" (hi Ezran in 3x04) and I don't think they'd toss that out, either. In a world with magic, they could've taken the concept of the Moon Nexus and Rayla wanting to see them again for the same end (which, in TTM, Rayla doesn't think she can save her parents per se - she just wants to know if they're actually dead or not), but uh. They didn't so yeah, particularly because Runaan living means all sorts of messy feelings for Callum and happy gay reunion elves, them living absolutely holds the most merit for the narrative, tbh

#thanks for asking #moon fam #tdp rayla #mini meta #requests #analysis series #analysis #hoothalcyon #hero motif #theme: duality #also pick my brain away #characterization #by mistake

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mochiwrites · 4 months

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ive just finished catching up on night life and wow! oh gosh!! theres so much to process and so many questions!!! what happened with the last human mumbo was close to? whos the murderer? what exactly is scar being hired to do? whats scars past? wtf is up with scott? did scar set up that illusion with the house fire in the most recent chapter or scott? both?? why????

even if scar does all this to protect tub, wheres the guarantee that scott doesnt just pop in and take him anyways? i doubt theres so much as a drop of honor in that creepy, creepy man. what if scar gets found out and mumbo and grian are betrayed so they stop talking, then scott gets taken by tubs so scar's left alone, and goes to mumbo and grian for help which they ultimately give because how could they deny a friend in need?? WHAT ABOUT PEARL???

oh my gosh PEARL!! im so concerned for her. im so scared for her. if something happens to her ill kill everyone in the fic and then myself /ref

also taurtis?? id assumed he'd died, then grian had some self thinking about taurtis might be dead and now im convinced hes gonna come back somehow?? but how? or am i overthinking this and he IS dead? god poor dude

GRIAN. LORDY LORD how on earth so much guilt can fit in such a tiny man baffles me. at the same time something about him being human and objectively weaker in all this really resonates with me. his desire to be useful and of equal standing. ouch. doesnt hit any weak spots for me there no not at all.

im also very unhealthily in love with this version of mumbo. id die for him a million times over.

the worldbuilding is incredible!! it's a lot but i feel like its being incorporated in a way that isnt overwhelming so we're able to follow along with everything pretty well! plus, the fact that a lot of it is from grian's (very confused) perspective makes him work really well as a sort of source of information for readers! its great!!

i am just. overall very. wow. looking forward to future updates. very much looking forward to that. keep up the incredible work!!

ehehe henlo!! :D

many questions to be had !!! I want to answer all of them SO bad oh man. but I am being so brave and not spoiling *vigorous nodding* some of these answers Are coming soon though!!

scar’s motivations, in a broad and general sense, are really intriguing to consider in this au. he’s someone who’s never been human operating on fae morals while mingling with humans. so there’s this really interesting clash of ideals and goals going on. but if he’s not careful, the fallout could be… messy. extremely messy.

PEARL AND TAURTIS OUGH… taurtis was put on a VERY interesting character path, and let me tell you it was. A major struggle trying to figure out how much of his story to put in the limelight. because taurtis is technically living in a different town while going through stuff and the path that leads him to the arachne is all going on in the background fbfbfbfg but 👀 in regards to his status… who knows! and PEARL… I cradle her So gently in my hands, I care her so much. I am so sorry

and ACK I’ve talked about grian and his humanity and the connection it has to everyone and the story drives me MADE. because realistically speaking, he Is the weakest. he Is the most vulnerable. the most fragile. it would Not take much to kill him. yet that doesn’t stop him from wanting to help. from wanting to be useful. there’s so much drive and perseverance and just… hope. he has so much hope and stubbornness and he is so painfully human. it reminds the non human characters of what they lost. of what they want to protect (mumbo).

and objectively, it’s because of grian’s humanity that he’s able to see the humanity in those around him (mumbo and scar).

songbird!mumbo is SO beloved. little sad and anxious vampire guy… I’m so sorry

but uwahhh thank you !!! the world building is something that I have a lot of fun with in this au. because it’s a fantasy au there’s So much world at my fingertips, which is why it’s so important to find the balance when introducing concepts and stuff. I try not to overwhelm with information <3

and using grian as the reader’s in to the supernatural world is Very purposeful :D when you begin the series, you and grian have the same amount of knowledge. you’re entering the supernatural world together, and learning the same information. so the readers are Literally seeing the world through grian’s eyes.

it’s a very helpful writers tool for world building >:D

and !!!!! 🥹💕 I’m glad you enjoyed it so far !! chapter 5 is already outlined and planned hehe. I’m very excited about this next chapter, and I’m hoping the wait won’t be too long!!

( also, since you mentioned the solar eclipse playlist, this au has a playlist as well! :D in case you’re interested uwu )

#mochi speaks #songbird asks

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onewholivesinloops · 1 year

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I’m going to wait to read the translation but Meguri’s Nekoakashi is really bad. It doesn’t even bother to explain Satoko’s increasing violence towards Rika this arc at all. Things like the Satoko/Rika Watanagashi scene are skipped because they don’t work at all with Meguri’s different plot and Tomato clearly has no idea what to do with them because he’s trying to thread a thin line of doing something different while still working within the confines of Gou/Sotsu.

Satoko’s violence escalating is for no other reason than the fact that she “enjoys tragedies” so much in this as has been established before but this in no way explains why Satoko keeps targetting Rika specifically and why she’s brutalizing her so much. The “she wants to be caught” explanation doesn’t work because the manga has ignored that completely since Satokowashi. But yeah, none of this is a satisfying answer in the first place. It’s boring.

This is a completely pointless chapter. The be all end all of Witch Satoko's characterization in this is "she enjoys murder and she enjoys hanging out with her friends in Hinamizawa" which renders the entire looping premise pointless to me because she’s not allowed to have any other feelings. It works in Sotsu because it's the revenge fantasy of a suicidal teenager venting out her bubbled up anger and resentment at everyone. Everything after meeting up with Eua is an elaborate metaphor. It does happen from a literal perspective but it’s constantly saying a lot about Satoko and the way she feels. Almost every action she makes does. This hasn’t been saying anything interesting since Oniakashi.

I also hate how Meguri keeps depicting Satoko as though she "finds pleasure in the murders" she's committing and the blushy, giggling yandere depiction is so cringe. Being a witch has always been in part a crystallization of trauma and negative feelings, which is why I liked Sotsu Satoko's mostly emotionless responses to the horrible things she was doing much more. She does cackle and do the witch red eyes occasionally but it makes sense because Witch Satoko is her worst coping mechanism - acting haughty, proud and as though she’s the mastermind in control of everything to hide her insecurities - taken to its logical extreme. She’s a child who’s always seen herself as a burden and this is why she believes she has no family or community then Rika abandons her too. She has nothing other than her illusion of control and the “game” she sets up is basiaclly just one big trap. It’s her actions but she has to dissociate herself from them so she doesn’t break down at every turn. The attitude is similar to how Beato acts in the question arcs but we’re given a red in EP5 that states she never committed murder for the sake of pleasure.

Anyway, Nekodamashi makes complete sense in the anime because so much of it is a combination of Satoko’s growing anger and resentment as well as the fact that she’s trying to put an end to this because she’s fed up that make her speed up the suffering she’s putting Rika through especially after the ending of Tatariakashi where she embraces the witch side. In the manga Neko happens because Satoko is just doing this because she enjoys it so much and she disembowels Rika just because. I don’t think I’m wrong to say that Tomato is a complete hack. I don’t have much hope for the final arc but at least this can finally end.

#higurashi #higurashi gou #higurashi sotsu #higurashi meguri #umineko #gamo.txt

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tobiasdrake · 1 year

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I do think Monica's writing in the show suffers from being too pro-Wanda. Like. Hayward is a fascist monster so it's easy to take Monica's side every time he's on the other end of a conversation. But on the other side of the coin, Monica puts an inordinate amount of faith in Wanda's inherent goodness and omnipotence that makes conversations... weird.

Don't get me wrong, Wanda's position in all of this is complicated and can't be easily summarized as "Wanda Good" or "Wanda Bad". But Monica has this weird perception of Wanda as this almighty godlike being composed of pure, infallible good. And it's not clear from the things going on around her why she would think that.

Like. Right after she comes out of the Hex, Monica gets into an argument with Hayward about calling Wanda a terrorist in which she makes incredibly baseless assumptions about Wanda's hidden motives.

Hayward points out that Wanda literally just launched her across the town and Monica alleges that Wanda deliberately shielded her from any harm to ensure she would land safely. Hayward brings up the fact that she's enslaving the town, and Monica alleges that Wanda deliberately limited the extent of the Hex in order to ensure minimal people were harmed by her actions.

We're supposed to be on Monica's side here, but the fucking fascist is the only person whose points are rooted in the reality we see. Monica feels like she's asspulling headcanons to try and defend her favorite character from criticism.

And it doesn't stop there. She later gets in another argument with Darcy and Woo about Wanda's abilities. They bring up that the Hex, if Wanda's actually warping reality and not just creating illusions, is far beyond anything Wanda's ever been established to do.

This pisses off Monica. She insists that none of it is illusionary and everything's real, because Wanda's just that ultra-powerful. "She could have taken out Thanos on her own if he hadn't initiated a blitz. Nobody else came close."

And. Like. That's a weird thing to say. How does she know about that? Did she watch Avengers: Endgame at some point? It also has nothing to do with the point the others were making, but successfully silences the discussion nonetheless.

It's just. It's so weird the way Monica's written like a devoted Scarlet Witch fan that got Isekai'd into the show.

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #wandavision #monica rambeau

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emeraldthelynx · 1 month

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Infinite

I think Infinite is a really cool character. When I played Sonic Forces, I think my only real complaint with the game was how short and easy it was. Everything else was really amazing! And Infinite was such a cool character with so many nuances, heightened by the lyrics in his self-titled theme. A lot of people seem to think he's just an angry guy who hates Shadow and started a war for no reason. And then the fandom puts him through therapy.

. . .

Let me explain why I think Infinite is a cool villain!

First of all, he's got a backstory the player becomes a part of in Episode Shadow. Shadow has been ordered to hunt down Infinite's mercenary squad (probably by G.U.N., although the scriptwriters probably didn't realize that.) He takes down the rest, then takes on Infinite. Up until this point, Infinite has been invincible, he was feared, he had power. Then Shadow breaks him instantly. Instead of having a moment of self-reflection or brooding, Infinite denies that he has a breakdown. He hides his face and it's almost like that the mask he wears is a sign of his 'rebirth.' So he's a tragic villain! He's still a bad guy, he was a bad guy before everything Shadow did, but Infinite becoming scared and vulnerable actually makes him sympathize with the audience.

Secondly, this guy is a real threat! If Eggman hadn't reeled him in when he did, chances are Infinite would of taken him down as well with his illusions. He literately tricks the brain into hurting the body while manipulating reality to his every whim. He doesn't need to have contact with his opponents to hurt them, which is more than can be said for a lot of Eggman's plans. He materializes Sonic's hardest opponents, Shadow, the perfect rival to Sonic, Metal Sonic, a machine who believes he's the real Sonic and will do anything to prove it, Chaos, the literal embodiment of Sonic's worst fear, and… Za…vok? (Sorry, Zavok works more as a Mario villain than a Sonic one. He's ruthless, we'll say that, yeah.) Excluding Zavok, these guys have been real threats to Sonic when they were separate, and Infinite puts them together. He breaks Tails. He makes the world believe that Sonic is dead for six months. Again, more than most of Eggman's plans have done.

Third, the dynamic Infinite has with the Avatar character. Both of them were reduced to trembling, fearful people. But Infinite hid away, and the Avatar chose to fight despite his/her fear and eventually overcame it. Infinite's theme literately sounds like he's taunting the avatar, hitting it especially hard with the line "it's only me and you, who is gonna save you now?" Infinite sees the avatar as the person that he was before putting on the mask, and likes taunting them. Do you realize that he's trying to hide his own fear by attacking the Avatar? And it makes him even more scared as the avatar stands up again and again which he could not do.

Fourth and final, his design and theme song?! That mask, the Phantom Ruby, the Persona-esque logo on the bottom of his shoes, that is a lot of effort put into this design to really sell the character! (As a side note, I know barely anything about Persona. Could somebody who's more familiar with the series tell me if Infinite embodies any of the Persona traits?) His theme song is really amazing. It embodies everything in his character. Do you realize that this was the first time there was a character theme in this style since Silver's theme in Sonic 06? Sure, we got cool things like Knight of the Wind or lovely tracks like Speak With Your Heart, but we did not get a full-blown character theme. Infinite is telling the audience (Avatar) who he is, everything about his power, how he's the one in control, but at the same time, you can hear him trying to convince himself of everything he's saying. (Especially with the line "this is an illusion, open up your eyes.")

I'm going to say it now that I got more happiness from playing Sonic Forces than I did playing Frontiers. The music was great, I actually felt like I had a world to save, and the avatar was really fun to design and use. I think if SEGA used a style similar to the Adventure games where each character (Sonic, Classic Sonic, and the Avatar) each had their own story segments, made the game a little longer, and fleshed out the story a bit more, Sonic Forces would of been one of the best Sonic games that came out in a while. I might make another post later that specifies those ideas a bit more, but for now, enjoy my rant about Infinite.

#lynx's rambles #Sonic #Sonic Forces #Avatar #Infinite

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marydublinauthor · 1 year

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Random gt drabbles: Desired

Characters: Cliff and Zia

*NEW* Shot in the Dark/Tyrant!Cliff AU

“Why shouldn’t I have everything I want?” It’s this simple question that inspires Cliff to rejoin his family, who is now involved prominently in a supernatural black market organization, making millions. Leaving Jon and Sylvia, Cliff takes the helm of this organization with merciless focus. He takes captive for himself the fairies and creatures that aren’t monetized or killed, giving them a life of luxury — under his control.

@bittykimmy13 @kendsleyauthor

——————————-

“You - green hair. He needs you.”

Zia lifted her head, a coldness snaking through her body. Not tonight. She didn’t have the energy tonight.

Cliff’s assistant looked up from her phone, giving an impatient sneer. “Am I speaking French? Let’s go.”

Zia withdrew from Oliver and Sylvia, setting down her beads on the game board. “Finish without me,” she murmured.

“Just her?” Oliver called over.

The assistant shrugged. “It’s a healing thing.”

Sylvia shook her head, massaging her temples.

“What?” Oliver asked. “I was just clarifying.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Oli? Why would you want to give him any more than he’s already taken from you?”

“He’s not all bad. No one is.”

Zia left their bickering as she flew behind the human woman. There was no cage in the room, but it always felt like crossing a threshold when she lingered in the entryway. The impossible passage to freedom. The assistant barely looked up from her phone as she pressed a button on a small remote. Zia’s cuffs snapped together. The assistant clipped a fine gold chain to the side and led her up the spiral stairs.

Cliff was lounged on his California King nursing two fingers of bourbon when Zia was all but thrust into the room. The arched window was cracked open, letting a whisper of crisp autumn air into the vast space. He sat up when she made herself known, and his black button-up fell open further. Claw marks glinted across his chest.

“Was it a gasher?” Zia asked quietly, landing on the bed and waiting for him to unfasten the chain.

“A wendigo from Oregon. The sedation in transit wasn’t strong enough, apparently.” Cliff said, tossing the chain onto the nightstand next to his drink. “But nothing we couldn’t handle. Thank you for coming, Zia.”

“You’re welcome.”

It really was remarkable how he insisted on the illusion that they had any agency whatsoever.

Cliff laid back into the pillows with a pained sigh and set her onto his chest. She familiarize herself with the gentle heat of his bare skin, the ebb and flow of his breaths. The unbearable weight of his gaze on her, begging her to look back at him.

Zia began to heal him, keeping her eyes lowered only upon her work. She hoped to finish quickly, and that he would grow bored soonafter. She was sealing up the second claw mark when his hand dropped around her. She stiffened, magic flickering out as Cliff tucked some of her long hair back behind her ear.

“You know, I’ve never seen a fairy with green hair like yours before? It’s beautiful.”

She made the mistake of glancing at his face. Cliff smiled, finally having gotten what he wanted. Her attention.

“I’m starting to think you put yourself in harm’s way just so you have an excuse to call me in here at all hours of the night,” she said cooly. She returned to healing, but it was hard to form the words when he was still playing with her hair like that.

He chuckled softly. “Would that be so terrible?”

#tyrant!Cliff AU #evil!cliff #g/t #gt #giant/tiny #random gt drabbles #random gt drabble #gt angst #Cliff #cliff/zia #Zia #shot in the dark #giant tiny #gt writing

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natasha-in-space · 1 year

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Nothing but Deception

Saeyoung & cmc Natasha Stakh;

Somewhat of a prelude to the Fractured Heart piece I wrote a while ago, but can be read separately without loosing anything crucial to the story! This time, I wanted to explore such a complicated situation from Saeyoung's perspective as he finally gains control of his mind after days spent in a drugged haze.

This scenario takes place after the 3rd Bad Ending of 707 Route, in which Saeyoung is taken hostage by Unknown after a failed attempt to get him out of Mint Eye.

Ch. 1, Ch. 2 (you are here!)

A violent coughing fit put an abrupt end to the peaceful silence enveloping the tiny living space in which both Saeyoung and Natasha have resided for a few days now, thus quickly waking them both up from their slumber, albeit with completely differing experiences. The redhead let out a painful groan, instinctively clutching onto the nearest surface as a searing migraine wreaked havoc on his disoriented mind. He tried to open his tired eyes to assess his surroundings, only to heavily regret his decision soon after. God... Everything in his line of sight was spinning. Fighting through the pain and exhaustion trapping his entire body in invisible shackles, he managed to clumsily raise himself up on one of his hands, quickly finding that it took practically all of his strength just to keep his balance, regardless of a simplicity of such a light movement. Still, once he gave himself a minute to catch his breath and calm his racing thoughts, it took him only a couple of seconds to acknowledge who was the person studying him with apprehension in their eyes of an unnaturally mint hue from a few feet away.

In a hoarse voice, he called out Natasha's name a few times, still finding it hard to distinguish reality from illusion, thus repeating his actions in order to make sure that he did, in fact, do exactly what he desired to.

Damn... He has no idea just how long he's been here already. It feels like it's been centuries as his mind was completely overcome by a drugged haze, too thick even for him to fight through, despite all the training he had faced back in the agency. So, why... Why is he suddenly feeling like himself again? In here? He vaguely remembered that he had already crossed paths with her many times before, and yet... Usually, Saeran was there, making it impossible to have a normal conversation.

He doesn't understand a single thing about this!

"Are you okay...?" He tilted his head slightly towards the young woman, hoping - no - praying that she won't view him as a threat and force yet another doze of a vile mint liquid down his throat while he's still too weak to put up a fight even if he tries.

She was still obviously feeling quite drowsy, judging my her groggy gaze and sluggish body language, which made him come to the conclusion that this clarity of mind of his was definitely not planned on her part. Well... He can't remember any useful info about her unique position in this place, except for the fact that she was almost always by Saeran's side. He doubted she'd tell him anything crucial, though. Finally, she replied to his question, allowing him to hear her voice clearly.

"Hm?" Much to his surprise, she merely yawned and rubbed at her eyes, as if there was absolutely nothing strange about this situation they were currently in. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be okay?"

Saeyoung could only stare silently as she slowly sat up in her bed with a satisfied groan falling from her lips, stretching out her limbs in the most casual way possible. The sheer contrast of her nonchalant behavior in these dire circumstances only made him feel more and more desperate, as the pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, all while the former control of his own thoughts was gradually returning to him the longer he stayed awake.

She was... She was one of them, wasn't she...?

"Hm... Wait a bit."

He watched silently, studying her from afar, as Natasha lazily reached out for her phone laying on the bland nightstand nearby. Not much was visible from his position on the couch, but he did manage to sneak in a small glance at what seemed to be a messenger app of sorts. Although, it was hard to call it a proper messenger, since there was only one user for her to contact, and he didn't need to think hard in order to guess their identity.

But, if she's close with Saeran, then why is she treating him so calmly? While she definitely wasn't rushing to help him, there was no ill will or hatred in her eyes as well. It was difficult to read her intentions, and he didn't know whether or not he should trust her at all.

Once she was done typing out her message, she chuckled with clear amusement flickering behind her minty eyes and then turned her full attention back to Saeyoung, much to his discomfort. "Are you feeling better now? If that's so, you can go wash away all that sweat and dirt, and then I might take you out on a walk to our kitchen. I'll cook something normal for you to eat for once. How does that sound?"

She was obviously in a fairly good mood, and he quickly found himself feeling completely dumbfounded by her suggestions. It didn't make sense to him whatsoever, and it wasn't like anything he had encountered here before. She wasn't disgusted by him or actively trying to harm him, but, all at the same time, she was treating this whole situation as if he was on a vacation or something!

It made him start to feel frustrated.

"Why..." Why is this woman so damn calm and cheerful about this!? Sure, he was probably on a way higher dose of drugs than she had to experience in her time here, but still, this place... It was terrible, vile, cruel! He needed to get Saeran out of here as soon as possible, not walk around and cook breakfast as if it's a normal Tuesday! "We need to get out of this place."

Actually, he really should act as soon as possible while he's still somewhat conscious. But, the bitter truth is... In order for him to start planning on the escape route, he first needed to find a computer, or at least a phone.

She merely blinked, staring at him with a dumbfounded expression slowly creeping its way onto her previously obliviously cheerful face, before it shifted into something more somber.

"...Oh."

It seems that his clear sense of mind was made obvious to her only now, judging by the vague understanding filling her gaze. She quickly darted her eyes back to the phone screen, as if trying to avoid any sort of eye contact with him. He easily could pinpoint evident conflict happening within her thoughts. Though, it was a conflict he could not make sense of. At least she wasn't actively trying to rat him out... by the looks of it. He didn't know if she's just the type of person who's very bad at hiding their emotions, or she feels comfortable enough in his presence to be so open for some reason.

But, maybe, there is some hope for him at last.

Before he could think of a single word, he was interrupted by a heavy sigh falling from her lips. "Look... I can help you get out of here. I guess. But... It's going to be you, and only you . And if you decide to do something that would cause any harm to this place then we'll have to get you back, and I won't be able to help you. But, um... I'd rather just go and cook us breakfast now."

She was trying to avoid this conversation all together, he could see it clear as day. Help him get out of here...? So, does that mean that she's not with this organization by her free will? But then why is she actively warning him against causing harm to this place? Her actions contradicted her words so evidently, that it was making his head spin. Or, maybe it was just the drug. He didn't know.

But, it seems that they were both feeling pretty confused about their own separate circumstances, which is pretty ironic in and of itself.

She awkwardly scratched at the back of her neck, still avoiding looking him straight in the eye and quickly getting up from her place on the bed. Her voice was filled with heavy uncertainty, however hard she tried to seem friendly and unbothered. "Well... You can pretend to be still under the influence of the elixir. At least I would advise you to do that. I don't know just how busy your... brother will be today, so you might have to be taken under surveillance while I'm at work."

At the mere mention of Saeran, before he could stop himself, the words were flying off the tip of his tongue. "There's nothing to advise me about! I'll take Saeran and go. If you're willing to help me get out for some reason, then you can come with us as well. We... we need to get out here."

He ran a hand over his face. Along with the pain, small fragments of memories flashed through his mind. Natasha was... smiling? Whether it was a true event that really happened or a mere fragment of his confused imagination was hard to tell, but the thought unnerved him quite a bit.

Judging from her reaction... It looked like she was happier when he was under the influence of the drug. Although... It was probably too early to make any concrete assumptions on her character like that. But still... Why is she acting so strangely?

Perhaps he should try a softer approach. After all, she was a victim of this cult too... he might be able to lure her onto his side if he appeals to her somehow? She seemed much softer in nature than other 'believers' he had come across, so, perhaps, he could appeal to her kinder side if he plays his cards right.

So, this time, he tried to make his voice sound gentler, carefully leaning towards her and addressing her by name. "Natasha, this place is no good for anyone, you... do understand that, right?"

This was a test. He needed to find out just how far gone she was before he would plan on his further stragedy.

In response, she shifted nervously from one foot to another, clearly getting more and more jittery the harder he pushed her. Still, there was no anger, only discomfort. "Well... Yes, I understand what you're trying to say, but... I don't want to leave. Look, I agree that you're better off escaping and never coming back, because... Uh, I guess, I shouldn't go into details about your situation and why you're just suffering by staying in here."

Another shaky sigh followed suit, she almost looked... somewhat guilty standing there all hunched over and unsure of herself.

"But me...? I... I like it here. We all like it here. While yes... Maybe this place is far beyond the comprehension of the outside world, but... We're happy here. And... Saeran is too. S-Sort of." That last phrase was clearly out of place, making her stumble over her next jumble of words, almost mumbling to herself as if trying to fix her own mess-up in wording and changing the subject all together. "W-Well, I can probably distract him... Just enough for you to leave, that is. And I could tell you about the structure of the building and where all the exits are. Um... I might even lead you there myself, but I can't promise anything on that..."

Hearing her speak so absentmindedly about both Saeran's and her own dangerous situation, Saeyoung didn't even realize how frighteningly quickly he succumbed to the irritation persistently gnawing at his temples like a vicious parasite, clutching his hands into tight fists and inadvertently scowling at her in a moment of pure and righteous anger. "He is not happy here! No one is happy here! Why don't you understand that?!"

He almost sprang to his feet, completely ignoring the protests of his sluggish and tired limbs, before he caught himself halfway through the action, realizing his grave mistake straight away from just one look on the young woman's face in front of him.

Well... It took him only a couple of seconds to realize that this wasn't what he was planning on doing or saying whatsoever. It wasn't at all like him act out so... sporadically, even despite his dire circumstances. No, this outburst was just outward strange, unpleasant and... If he was to be completely honest with himself, kind of frightening to go through. It's like he lost complete control over his own mind and body for a few fleeting moments, and he did not like what that possibility entailed whatsoever. Moreover, his headache only got worse from his own shouting, making the hacker feel even worse, both physically and mentally.

He could only exhale uneasily, casting his eyes to the ground and gritting his teeth to mask his growing anxiety. God, he hoped this outburst of his wouldn't ruin all the hope he had left. "N-No, I'm sorry... I didn't mean that. But this place is no 'paradise'. Cruelty and violence has no place in true heaven where everyone is happy, surely you understand that if you think that I'm suffering."

His mood was definitely changing way to sporadically and quickly for his liking, a change that was not a welcome one. Even he could feel that his behavior seemed unnatural, only to add to the growing pit of despair deep in his empty stomach. It wasn't hard to guess the reason behind this sudden change in behavior, but it didn't make it any easier to cope with it in the moment. After all, he had no idea for how much longer he'll have to stay here and choke on the bitter mint liquid until there's nothing left of his autonomy whatsoever.

No, he has to put himself together. He didn't care what would happen to him, but he needed to get Saeran out of this wretched place, whether he wanted to or not. Even if it will cost him his own life in the process.

It's the least thing he could do to fix this mess.

Judging by the anxious look on Natasha's face, his sudden shouting more scared than angered her, much to his huge relief. In fact, she seemed to be feeling rather lost, uncertain on how exactly should she respond to such a violent reaction coming from him. Was she, perhaps, not expecting him to act out like this?

"Uh..." At last, she merely let out a shallow sigh, casting her gaze somewhere on the wall behind him, a distant look clouding her light mint eyes. "Even if you might think so because of your bad experience here, there's no unnecessary cruelty when it comes to my fellow believers. W-Well... I'm just too softhearted for my own good, so my personal opinion might be too biased to bring up."

Didn't sound so encouraging to him.

Regardless, she continued, ignoring the painfully clear contradictions in her speech like they weren't even there. She pinched a bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes for a few moments, seemingly trying to compose herself. "Ugh, look Luciel: I can't help you right now anyway. Just go wash up and wait here while I make breakfast for all of us. And then... And then I don't know. Whatever happens will happen. If you want, you can pretend to be under the elixir in front of Unknown and the believers. I won't snitch on you, if that's what you are afraid of. And... I'll help you escape. But neither of us want to leave, so... Just think about it. While I do want to help you, I will also do what I must to protect our paradise. I hope you won't take my word lightly on that."

Before he could utter a single word to argue, she quickly went out into the corridor without even waiting for his answer. He could hear the audible sound of a mechanical lock being put in place, thus making this tiny room his new prison, albeit a way more comfortable one when compared to the damp jail cell he was being kept in before. And while he probably could escape out of here with ease if he put his mind to it... Was there really any point in doing that when he has no valuable info or equipment on him whatsoever?

All he could do was just sit there, feeling an entire hurricane of various emotions flowing through him as he replayed this worryingly short dialogue between him and Natasha over and over in his own head, searching for answers that just weren't there, no matter how hard he tried to look for them. She was just as confusing to him as Saeran in her contradicting behavior, but maybe, that was the entire point from the very beginning. He had no idea what they had to go through in this hellish place, and the mere thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach. At least, she seemed like a truly kindhearted soul, even if her motives were a bit twisted. He could only hope she was good to his brother, whatever that even meant in this disgusting cult. Thinking it all over again, such a reaction coming from her was to be expected, and he should be happy enough that she didn't throw him in the basement, at least.

----

"You should eat at least something, it's highly unlikely that you'll escape anywhere today and the effects of the elixir won't't hit you as hard on a full stomach, trust me on that. There's no drugs in there, if that's what you are so afraid of."

Saeyoung flinched, swiftly lifting his paranoid gaze back up at a young woman sitting just a few feet away from him. They didn't say a single word to each other ever since she came back into the room with a tray of steaming food in her hands. And while it was temting to sink his teeth into something other than some bland piece of bread his brother would usually throw his way, it's true that he was cautious to put anything into his system at the moment. He just got rid of the debilitating effects of that drug and he didn't want to risk it. Though, Natasha didn't seem to mind as she casually put a piece of ham in her mouth.

"I don't want to fight with you, okay? Like I said, you can leave here safely and I'll help you. This place is not for everyone. But... It does bug me that you're trying to force your way on us. I like it here. And it... It upsets me that you want to take this happiness away from me, from all of us. We are all happy and like one big family in here. I don't agree with some things... But it's the only place where I feel like I belong. I hope you'll understand that."

He scowled, although this time around, his anger wasn't directed at her specifically. "No, I won't understand, sorry. This place is just using and exploiting your pain, just like it did with Saeran. It's cruel and vile. Saeran he... He's too unstable to see right from wrong right now. And since you're not trying to pour that drug down my throat right at this very second, surely you see what I mean, even if you try to deny it to yourself."

He attempted to put all the hope he had left into his pleading gaze as he looked straight into her eyes, searching - no - begging for a glimer of understanding. He truly didn't want to escape out of here alone. Besides, Saeran could have easily prepared a plan B for this exact scenario as well. And... Saeyoung didn't want for his brother to get hurt even further because of his escape. He was under Saeran's 'care'... Who knows what will happen to him if he, by some miracle, manages to escape? And even if he'll come back as soon as possible with a backup plan... The mere thought of Saeran suffering even further because of his actions sickened him to his very core.

He needed to escape, and he needed to do it with Saeran by his side, or die trying.

"Please, Natasha..." He sounded weak and vulnerable, his voice breaking into a hushed plea. If there really was a God, he only wished for him to grant him this one miracle to save his brother's life. Nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing else has ever mattered to him more than Saeran's well-being. He couldn't allow himself to fail him like that again. "Surely you realize that this isn't a life worth living...?"

She held his gaze for a few fleeting moments, before deciding to break the eye contact all together with a single tired sigh, choosing instead to stare down at her plate with a blank expression slowly making its way onto her face, while she absentmindedly picked at it with her fork. "Luciel... I... I don't want to talk about this, okay? It may seem wrong and crazy to you, but... I like it here, alright? I don't want to argue about this."

All the resemblance of her cheery mood that was present at the beginning was now replaced only by a clear discomfort that was practically oozing off of her in waves, whether it was intentional or not. Saeyoung could see her glancing anxiously at her phone, her fingers twitching as they held on to the utensil in her hand, her lips pursing into a thin line, as if she was debating over something within her own mind, unsure on what to do. Much to his relief, though, in the end, she turned her head away from the phone all together, her brows furrowing into a rather sour expression.

Regardless of that small win, though, he was definitely getting more and more exasperated as his attempts to reason with her were shut down one by one. He groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair in an effort to calm his racing thoughts, one even worse than the last. "Ugh... But when you first came here, didn't they give you that drug too? Even in small doses, I doubt that it's a pleasant experience to go through. All this 'elixir' does - is hurt you and makes your mind easier to bend and break to their liking. If I'm wrong, why do you advice me to pretend that I'm still drugged? Is this really how people supposed help each other in an ideal world? Lie to each other because you'll get punished if you go against their wishes? That's not freedom, it's prison."

It was getting harder and harder to hide his growing annoyance with her contradictions when so much was at stake here. Still, it's not like him to give into anger so easily when he knows perfectly well that it is not safe to do so. Sure, anger wasn't anything bizarre to Saeyoung - quite the opposite, actually - but it's the way that he expressed it that was bothering him. Could this increased irritability of his be a side effect of the elixir...? And if that is indeed the case here, what else is there to expect in the future?

God, he wanted Natasha to believe him more than anything. He genuinely thought she was on his side once he realized that she was actively trying to protect him. Everything and everyone was against him in this place, and the notion of having even just one single ally in this hell? It was just enough to make him hope that there is a happy ending to this tragedy that can be achieved if he'd just try hard enough.

He knew... That she took care of him all this time.

He remembers just enough to make sense of a few phrases and her caring touch when it was the only possible consolation after hours of both physical and mental torture in the basement. He really thought that she was just scared to act on her own... That once he proposes to her the idea of escaping this shithole with him and Saeran, she would take it without any hesitation. Now, though, the thought of a successful escape, especially with Saeran, seemed more unattainable than ever before. While, yes, she, without a doubt, was treating him with sincere kindness and respect, that is not nearly enough for the desirable outcome.

It seems now he has found yet another way that this place manages to corrupt even the gentlest of souls.

But, he has no right to give up... No matter how hopeless everything around him is, he has to keep fighting. Lowering his head in defeat, he picked up some of the warm food with his fork, without much enthusiasm in his movements despite the hunger laying heavy on his bruised limbs. "So, you still won't believe me, no matter what I say...? Is that what you're trying to convey?"

Yet another quiet sigh was his only response, however this time, the young woman put away her fork all together, clearly loosing her appetite, much like he did. Looks like they really were in painfully similar situations, only on different sides of this invisible battle. “I don’t know. At least today, I definitely won’t decide to go with you anywhere. And it already makes me feel pretty bad to realize that I'll have to betray Unknown's trust, even if I know that I'm doing the right thing. As an assistant, I'm not supposed to make such drastic decisions on my own. Although it shouldn't matter to you anyway. And listen: I don't want to argue about this with you. You have every right to hate this place, just as I have every right to love it. I'm telling you to leave Magenta and never come back if you despise so much... Why force us to go with you?"

He couldn't find the words to respond to that. All that was left is a tense silence as they both tried their best to stay afloat in a raging sea of conflicting thoughts and emotions that could swallow them whole if they are to loose their composure even for a single moment.

If only she could realize just how similar they really are in this mess, and see him as an ally and not as a burden to get rid of.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeyoung choi #oc natasha stakh #unknown's version of natasha is certainly frustrating to deal with #is there a happy ending to this?#who knows :)#had a lot of fun writing this tbh i love playing around with dark scenarios like this #feel super bad for saeyoung though just wait till unknown catches the drift and it won't be pretty

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revoevokukil · 2 years

Text

Wingmen from Hell

“Gold nugget in a pile of compost” - the line is so dreadfully effective upon utterance because it picks at Ciri’s insecurity, her hope that she is more than the baseness and evil marring her; more than what the world has been reducing her to.

In this particularly sly way, the one-two Avallac’h & Eredin run on Ciri is kind of brilliant.

After entering the world of the Alders Ciri goes about trying to convince herself she is not at all astonished by the beauty of the place; by the very possibility of such beauty (coming off blood on ice and the witnessing of her friends’ heads being stuck into sacks of sand). Very quickly her first impression takes shape: in this world everything is different. Different! As in... better? Beauty bias makes humans associate beautiful things with goodness almost by default, and likewise ugly things with evil. It’s no co-incidence the witchers’ frightening appearance fuels the society’s hostility toward them. The matter is somewhat more subtle with Ciri, a witcher girl whose time with the Rats has nurtured human ugliness in her in earnest. Not only in Ciri’s memories does evil live; in that other world, now far behind her. It lives on under her skin. Her scar mars her, visually marking her with the “evil” she did not obtain through traditional witcher trials (or did she?), reminding her of the human ugliness and evil she knows lives within her. That she has perpetrated. Conversations with Vysogota helped a lot but Ciri’s self-worth – not to speak of identity – is in tatters by this point in the Saga.

Consequently, the witcher girl feels humiliated and lashes out, feeling acutely that she does not fit in this world where everything is different, beautiful, perfect, and surely, on some level of bias, “good.” Especially when someone who presents as beautiful, perfect, and good suggests Ciri ought to fit and that by raging like a little bull she is treating the kindness extended her way with contempt. Because there is something in her that makes her belong in this place, as Avallac’h insists despite her churlishness, and by being unreasonable, she is blinding herself to it.

Effectively, Crevan is giving Ciri hope. For if we recall Ciri’s initial motivation for leaving the Rats it was to re-possess her past self; a past that saw her on the path of a princess. Or an empress?

Taken at face value, for a person whose sense of self-worth and social position has been damaged, hope can be like a drug even if it infuriates because every time upon looking into the mirror “evil” looks back. Mistakes look back. Self-hatred looks back. For sure, they actually despise me; for sure this is all mockery and disrespect because I know what I really am. (Do I?) And not always have I been... decent. But if we did not want for things to be different the irritation would not occur and knowing that hurts all on its own.

Enter the bad cop.

Eredin tells Ciri outright that the part of her that has any hope of belonging anywhere in the world of the Alders is nothing more than a glimpse of gold in a pile of manure. Why yes! This sounds more like the reality Ciri has become conditioned to, doesn’t it? Rude, sure, and infuriating, yes, but at least it’s the truth! The witcher girl is no fool - she knows she is no angel. Eredin’s words strike closer to Ciri’s present self-percetion - not beautiful, not perfect, not good. He is telling a teenager what every teenager on some level believes - that others and the world hates them. A deeply harmful viewpoint to hold onto. The elf’s words reaffirm the self-hateful voices in the witcher girl’s head which sh*t on the illusion that in a world where everything is different she too could be different. Erase the scar, erase the evil - let things be different in this world’s image? Erase that old Self? ( 🚩). No, birdie, you’re mud.

At which point the good cop - who has faith in her not being mud after all - is nice enough to defend the girl against the offence.

‘You talk just like a human, Eredin.’

It’s a pretty pointed use of the word “human” there, I feel. Almost as if to combine the positive emotion aroused by defending someone with the condemnation of humankind as a whole. In short, the things you, Eredin, encourage Ciri to accept - her human ugliness and evil - are contemptible; Ciri, sweet thing, you know better than that, don’t you? Cementing by way of this classic move the impression that the “good” is on the girl’s side; despite its exasperation with her imperfection. Therefore the good’s goals are, perhaps, also worth striving for? Even if one of these aims - becoming a mother - is repulsive to me; outrageous, unbelievable! But what if I am reacting in this manner only because I have not yet tried brushing all the regrettable sh*t off the tucked-away, secret gold in me? What happened to me is not my fault. I can choose to be wiser, do better. Everything can be different.

I can be loved.

Oh, a flowering myrtle... Good thing I tried to remain above this rude creep’s insults, wasn’t it?

The one-two is psychologically brilliant because it feeds an identity crisis. The aim - to weaken from the inside and break down a sense of who a person is and what they want. Replacing whatever tatters are left with what they should want. Cooperation - when in haste - is easier if you can be the conductor of the behaviour of the subject you are trying to make cooperate with you. Handy tools for this endeavour: creating guilt for objecting to doing better and being an obstacle in the way of helping yourself; stoking the exasperation at the evil that feels like home yet does not even reward you with what you have come to expect from it - the ability to hate.

With no satisfaction in sight, the puppet is danced around in circles.

#the witcher #wiedźmin #ciri #aen elle #lady of the lake #avallac'h #eredin #i am writing eredin's character analysis #but some scenes are so rich i keep shooting off into tangents of analysis #red flags #the witcher meta #scraps #characterisation

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kettouryuujin · 2 years

Text

Nobility AU - Mai

[Inspired by @monsoon-of-art's Pokérus AU and @jade-nargacuga's Pokérus: Ghosts]

Warden Mai stared at her charge, blinking - and wobbling a bit, given her weakening legs. “You… want me to walk with you?”

*Snort* “Wyr.”

“...alright then… I…guess we’ll get going.” A sigh as the pair started off from the middle of the Fieldlands. The Diamond Clan member wasn’t sure why her Lord had called her here. Something about a sacrifice to Sinnoh, for power to protect her Clan and loved ones?

If there was any time Mai disliked how her Lord rarely used his psychic powers to talk with her, this would be it. She couldn’t tell if he was just being cryptic or if he was struggling with what to say!

Well. If the Lord of the Hills wanted her to go on one last walk before her legs became Crobat wings, then who was she to stop him?

—-

As they trekked into the Mirelands, the Warden couldn’t shake the feeling something was off. She’d been going for quite a ways, and yet her legs weren’t giving out the way a future wing would. If anything, they felt a bit heavier…and stronger! The opposite of how they’d been changing before!

But when she looked down to check, they looked just as purple-tinted and thin as she’d started the walk with. It was… honestly quite the inconsistency. Was her Lord playing a trick on her?

No. When she looked up to check, the Wyrdeer’s orbs weren’t glowing - meaning he wasn’t using any illusions. Maybe she was just getting her hopes up… well, if doing so made this trek more enjoyable, then so be it.

—-

Approaching the “hand” of the lower Coastlands, the pair stopped to take a breather. Thankfully, Mai had brought some water with her on their trek - something both Noble and Warden appreciated. Still, was it her, or did the Noble seem slightly…smaller? No, everything seemed a bit smaller. How strange.

The Lord still wasn’t using any illusions, but…something still felt off about this whole thing. She just couldn’t put a finger on exactly why. She had no doubt that her Noble had the best interests in mind, however, and soon they set off once more.

As Firespit Island came into view, happy barking could be heard across the plateau. Sounds like that Pearl Clan warden finally wised up…

But as they crested the slope, the sights didn’t quite match the sounds. For one, she could still see the young Growlithe there, playing with a larger - and slightly clumsy - Arcanine. A sibling? No, the Arcanine was female. To her knowledge, there weren’t any female Growlithes that had been deemed worthy of succession. And over there, in the water - since when did Lord Basculegion have a blue stripe? For that matter, why would a male Basculegion have a blue stripe? Weren’t they supposed to be pink?

Before she could ponder this more, a nudge from the side sent her stumbling. “Deer.” Apparently, the Lord of the Hills wanted them to get moving once more. So with a sigh, Mai continued on her trek - thinking about what she’d seen the whole way through.

—-

They continued into the Icelands, the low temperatures making Wyrdeer’s Warden shiver. Ugh, how could those Pearl Clan people survive this? Even Sabi had to wear so many layers to do her job here.

Then again, maybe she remembered the temperature being worse than it was? The persistent shivering wasn’t quite as bad as she was recalled, even though her coat felt taut against her.

…taut? That wasn't right. She had to shrink to become a Crobat, not grow… maybe her size was just further down the line? Possible, but as Mai looked to her Lord’s softly glowing orbs and recalled the path they’d taken so far, she was starting to suspect something else was going on.

—-

They did not enter Jubilife Village - Showing there, even slightly changed, would only end poorly with the prejudices those people had. Instead, they wrapped around, past the Fieldlands border and into the Highlands of Mt. Coronet.

Climbing the treacherous cliffs was difficult enough without the aid of Lady Sneasaler, but Lord Wyrdeer led one nevertheless. Mai did her best to follow, stepping with the utmost caution.

For most of the way, she held firm. For most of the way, she was able to slowly follow the Wyrdeer’s measured pace. For most of the way, when he looked back Mai was still there, if not unsteady.

For most of the way, her legs didn’t give out from under her.

—-

Crying out as she fell, Mai tried her best to grab onto something - anything - but it was like it was all out of reach! A tear came to her eye - was this the end? Passing whilst following the Lord of the Hills on a trek along his Trial route?

Well… it was far from the worst way to go, at least.

“WYR!” Uff! Or maybe her Lord could catch her in Extrasensory…that worked too.

As she was gently lowered down, Mai looked at her legs… and winced. They were both bending at a rather odd angle, yet the sharp pain of broken bones wasn’t there. Instead, it was a dull ache - a weaker version of the pain she’d been used to.

Once she was on the ground, she grunted, trying to stand…and failing. Of course. “...Lord Wyrdeer… what are you doing?”

The Lord blinked, then sighed as his orbs ceased their glow. As the light faded, the Warden saw a small white muzzle in her field of view, her nose brown and engorged. Looking down, she saw the fingers of each hand shrinking away into her tan wrists - all but one, which was extending and darkening.

“...Are you…bringing me into your herd? Why?” This was…a peculiar action for any Lord to take. Then again, turning into a Pokémon was peculiar to begin with.

The Lord just approached, a sad look in his eyes as he nuzzled his changing Warden. Sensations of fear pulsed through her mind, followed by an urge to protect. “You… you think I’ll be safer like this?”

Affirmation. “But…it still leaves me a Pokémon, not a human…” Irrelevance. “It’s for something else?” Affirmation once more. “...me becoming a Stantler… lets you protect me, huh?” The Lord let out an amused chuff and backed away. The soon-to-be-ex-human sighed, slowly getting onto four pseudo-hooves. “Well… I suppose if this is how the Lord of the Woods wishes to protect a member of his Clan, who am I to deny him?”

The said Lord looked a bit startled but nodded, turning around. The pair had fortuitously landed back in the Fieldlands, and Deertrack Heights was not far away.

—-

As the Wyrdeer and changing Stantler climbed up the heights, Mai found each step easier and easier to take. It was almost as if her changing body was guiding her along, sprouting instincts ensuring that each brown-ringed hoof landed safely and securely. A welcome change from her slow, unstable walk through the Highlands.

Her mind turned back to the Coastlands - specifically, the Lord and Lady there. Perhaps she was mistaken, and those weren’t the actual Nobles? Lord Growlithe would surely have done something like this to protect his Warden, doting as she was. And she could see the oddly-colored Basculegion as being Iscan, fully changed by his Lord for the same reason Wyrdeer was changing her.

Eventually, they reached the summit, where a familiar pillar of stone had been erected. Once the future Lord of the Hills had trekked to all corners of Hisui, he would come to the top of Deertrack Heights. Once there, he would use his Psyshield Bash to topple the pillar, signifying the completion of the Trial and triggering the new Lord’s evolution. And the first thing the new Lord would do with his Warden was to gather up rocks to make a new pillar, which would stay until the next Trial of the Hills.

The Warden couldn’t help but smile upon seeing the pillar that she and Lord Wyrdeer had years ago. However, the Lord apparently had different ideas as he took position behind and to the side of the pillar. “Er.”

Blinkblink. “W-what is it? You don’t expect me to knock the pillar over, do you?”

“Deer. Wyr-de.” A sensation of consternation.

“You…do? Why? We need it for the next Trial-”

“DEER.” Annoyance and irritation, spiked with a bit of fear.

“...ok then… I…suppose it’s symbolic or something…” Mai sighed, shaking her head - thankfully, her antlers had grown in. Brow furrowed in concentration, she could feel power pooling in her mind, flowing into the twin orbs she now carried.

With a flash, a cloak of energy formed around the almost-Stantler. Not willing to open her eyes and risk losing focus, she charged into the pillar with a *wham!*.

Impact banished the veil of psychic power as the “Warden” (eh? Why the quotes?) was sent flying back, landing near the summit’s edge.

“Er.” Again? A-alright, she’d go again… Getting her limbs under her, Mai stood, concentrating once more. Again, she charged, the field bursting upon impact.

This time, however, she only skidded back a few feet. Opening her eyes, she saw a sizable crack in the pillar. “Umm… right, this is enough rig-”

“ER.” Message received…did her Lord want her to take the whole Trial of the Hills?

“Finally…” Hrm? That…sounded like the Lord, but a bit younger? Ah, no time to dwell on that. She had a Trial to complete.

Closing her eyes once more, she felt the now-familiar crackle of the psychic veil form around her. Taking a deep breath, the cervid centered herself, focusing on the pillar - specifically, toppling it in this blow.

“WYR!” *CRACK!* Indeed, with one final Bash, the pillar had fallen. Opening her eyes, the changed “Warden” (again?) looked at the shattered pillar. It was done… although she wasn’t sure where to get stone for a new pillar.

Wait, wouldn’t the Lady - no, the Lady - the… “What in Sinnoh’s name is going on here!”

“Ler!” Mai’s planned tirade was discarded as the familiar sound of a startled Stantler struck her ears. Turning to face the source, she found what was definitely a spooked Stantler - but he was in the same place her “Lo-”...ugh. Where Wyrdeer was standing earlier. Well, worry later. Comfort now.

Bending down (why was she bigger?), the new Pokémon nuzzled the more experienced one. “I’m sorry for startling you…”

“I-it’s fine…” It took Mai one moment to realize ‘Oh yeah, I can understand other Pokémon now.' Then another to note that the voice was surprisingly young-sounding for the weight it carried. “I wasn’t used to hearing a Lord or Lady’s yells as a Stantler.”

…What.

As she locked up, trying to process what those words could mean, the smaller deer gave the key to the code. “I must say, though, y-you make for a stunning Lady of the Hills, miss Mai.”

A nervous laugh. “N-no, you have it wrong…” But if he had it wrong, then why did that feel so…right? Oh, and she sure sounded like she didn’t believe the younger ‘mon’s word’s either.

So instead, she just looked down at her hooves. The sight of white fur where there had been brown made her backpedal a bit more, stopping just before the cliff edge. Looking back, she was greeted by the familiar light gray of a Wyrdeer’s body, with a snow-white tail at the end.

As the new Lady’s jaw worked in shock, the Stantler - the former Lord - sat. “I-it was the only way to make sure you’d be safe from the things to come, m-ma’am.” Oh, she’d forgotten how much of a scaredy-cat the ex-Lord was before his Trial…and it seems like those old habits had made a comeback.

Welp. Time to woman up and take the lead. “A-alright. I assume the other Nobles are taking similar action?”

“Y-yes’m. We’ve been blessed by Arceus, Dialga, and Palkia to perform these modified Rites.”

“...Who, who, and who?” Blink and head-tilt.

“Ah. Erm… we can talk about them while we get some new stone for your pillar. C’mon.” The now-a-Stantler began descending from the Heights, his old personality at odds with his (ex-)Noble knowledge and experience. With a shrug, Lady Mai followed. Hopefully this wouldn’t be too dramatic a discussion… she didn’t want to startle the young one any further.

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pla #pokerus au #nobility au #warden mai #Lord Wyrdeer #Wyrdeer #Stantler #Small cameo #The Trial's structure made it hard to keep Mai unaware of her changes the whole time #So I just worked with it.#The bit with the pillar was my own idea #Stantler evolve to Wyrdeer after using agile style Psyshield Bash 20 times #So I wanted an element that reflected that #transformation

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