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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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I have this habit of being very detailed in writing- hopefully not too much that it bores anyone to death. Personally, I love detailing OC's and as many aspects of them as I can before exposing these poor things to pain- almost like a slow-burn for torture, I suppose?

But then it occurs to me as well that maybe I'm just writing a normal story, with villians and heroes and anti-heroes but with more emphasis on the pains they go through.

Oh well, here is my newest creation-

CW: None quite yet. Some strong language, I suppose

MYSTICS

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

Lyrem Nomadus busied himself, flipping through resumes that bored him half to death and then a little more. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to look for anyone to share his space with. The business of curating, refurbishing and selling occultic items was dreadfully interesting to the general public and the last thing he was looking for was someone new to devalue it with their own useless knowledge and presumed ‘psychic’ abilities. The last two days were full of just that. He pinched the bridge of his wide nose as a mild headache came on- the last interview was a particularly painful thought.

A young man, with a heavily freckled, pale face, and round framed glasses poured over his collection of rocks near the front entrance, started spouting nonsense that Lyrem had little patience for.

“Ooh, malachite. I heard that stuff’s toxic, y’know,” he spoke with little regard for Lyrem standing near the cash register- an old charcoal grey thing with large buttons and made a noise like a classic ‘ka-ching’ just before the receipts printed out and the drawer popped open.

“Hm,” Lyrem hummed unamused, hoping it would prompt some style of professionalism from his prospective interviewee. It did not.

The young man continued to look around the store, finding one hematite pendulum specifically fascinating. Then he found his attention drawn to a display of elegantly designed tarot cards. The young man picked one of them up, studying the hierophant with mild interest.

“Please do not touch the merchandise.” Lyrem cut in.

The young man placed the card back down on the glass shelf, slightly askew to the rest on display. He cleared his throat and approached the register, finally.

“Did you bring a copy of your resume?” Lyrem asked him, knowing what the answer likely was, as there was nothing in his hands. He wore a long black trench coat over ratted, torn jeans and a plain tee shirt. There was one chain dangling from a pocket somewhere.

“Yessir,” he answered.

Oh, perhaps this boy had a hope after all.

After reaching into his back pants pocket with effort, the resume was presented, folded into six sections as a single piece of paper. A folded and clearly used napkin fell out onto the floor. Lyrem breathed deeply, took the folded resume, and smiled.

“Thank you for applying, but I am afraid you are not quite the right fit for this position,” Lyrem didn’t bother opening the paper, and instead tossed it over his own shoulder. It landed directly into the bin behind him.

“I-I’m sorry? You haven’t interviewed me yet”- his eyes widened with the confusion of the sudden rejection.

“Hm. I have interviewed you plenty, and I tell you now, I’d have a mangey dog run my store before you.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so casual. Lyrem blinked.

The poor boy took a moment to process the insult before glaring across at the owner of Mystics ruthlessly. Suddenly, his fist pounded the desk, sending a short tremor through the wood.

“Anybody with half a brain could do this job! For fuck sake’s, man!”

Lyrem looked at him with a simple eyebrow raised and cocked his head toward the door. He was tired these days. The less he chose to care about children’s tantrums, the better. The boy left in a huff, and clearly, he tried slamming the jingling door behind him as he stepped out onto the street, but the spring against the top disallowed such havoc, and bounced slowly back. It closed finally with a light click, and the young man was gone.

Releasing the pinch from his nose, Lyrem sighed. He didn’t know which one was worse, that boy who left a trail of disrespect in his wake, or the woman from the previous day who was convinced that she could speak with his mother in the afterlife. The sullen woman wore gems aplenty on her fingers and hanging from ropes and chains around her neck. The wire wrapped amethysts in particular, caused her to look like an easter egg more than a living person. She didn’t take it too kindly when he explained that the stones around her finger were not a genuine turquoise either. By the end of it all, she was rather happy to be finished.

He shuddered, remembering the strong scent of patchouli she left that seemed to linger within his store, even now.. He didn’t have an aversion to patchouli, or to amethyst or turquoise, or even easter eggs… at least he hadn’t one before two days ago.

The rest of the applicants were all the same. Wanted a job, wanted something easy, and for experience- and all the time, Lyrem would ask himself: “experience for what, exactly?” Instead of asking the question aloud, he’d thank the person, and politely send them on their way out, with a promise to call them when he had made a decision.

He wasn’t planning to call anyone.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The streets would be bustling past four, and if he wanted to avoid it and give himself a break from the eye strain, he would need to go for his coffee now, or not have one until after six. The horror.

He flipped over the sign on the door. It was one of those apologetic ones- as though it would stop a person from throwing a brick through a window for being closed on a weekday. Lyrem locked the door and turned to his right. There was a small local place not far from the corner of the intersection that he had grown accustomed to. If they had the raspberry scones today, he decided he may take one of those as a treat. Lost in thought, he crossed in front of a small white car making its left turn. The car stopped, though no horn was sounded as the engine suddenly died inexplicably next to him.

Lyrem walked around the car and poked his head through the passenger-side window which was open for the cool breeze. The driver looked back at him, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly.

“Pedestrians have the right of way, you know,” he mentioned calmly. Then, he tapped the top of the car twice. It restarted. “Drive a little safer, now.”

The driver suddenly remembered that the car was still in gear, and he moved along, crossing the intersection and left Lyrem behind like everything he had just done was part of some fever dream. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the block.

It was a sun-filled day, without a cloud in the sky, and it was a warm one too. Despite the fact that it was still early April, and the city had only just started waking from its hibernation from the cold, the streets were filling quickly with people.

His coffee took a while, which he forgave only because the end result was quite often a perfection, but he was nearly pouting at the counter as the spot for raspberry scones were replaced with one with blueberries instead. Losing his appetite, his eyes drifted around the rustic establishment. The sounds of a classical guitar filled the room with the unmistakable talents of the virtuoso, Andrés Segovia. It was a nice change from the sounds of folk rock and boy bands. The coffee shop was only getting better and better with age, it seemed.

Against the wall, a cork board was decorated in haphazardly placed notes. Some notes were simply inspirational or funny, some were searching for students for taekwondo or guitar, advertisements for plays and musicals at the local theatre were spread along the outer edges begging to be noticed, and there were a few job postings as well from other nearby establishments, restaurants, including one from a pet store.

He shouldn’t have tried putting an ad on Kijiji at all- not when the perfect people were right here all along. Like Icarus, Lyrem flew too close to the sun, and was burned by the troubling rays of stupidity that came through his door from delving into the ruddy depths of online job hunting. Never again would he make such a mistake.

“Lyre!”

Nodding, he retrieved his cup, and turned back toward the door. He nearly collided with another person, standing close up to the cork board and huffed, not spilling a drop.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Apologies.” The person gave him little notice, but moved off to the side with ease to allow him through.

He furrowed his brows. What was it that was causing him to pause just before reaching the door? There was just… something… off.

It took him a moment before hearing it- the faintest humming to Segovia’s España, Spanish Dance No.10 in G coming from the person who apologized to him for being in the way. Each note timed perfectly to the sound from the speakers in the corner. He turned his head, to a particularly high note, the humming stopped to be replaced with fingers tapping in unison to the notes against their thigh.

“Guitar?” He asked, suddenly beside them. He studied the board also.

“No,” they replied. “Just looking for a job.”

He nodded, grimacing. Raising his hopes one final time, he ventured.

“I have potential work for you. I am hiring at my store’s location down the street. If you are interested.”

“That seems coincidental.” They replied unemphatically sifting through the other job postings there, knowing they were not currently dressed for success. “What store?”

“Mystics. It’s along twenty-third and”-

“-seventeenth, yes, I know the place.”

“Then you’re hired.”

They stopped, and brought their hands down from the board, and turned to stare their deep brown eyes into his of deep hazel- to finally spare a glance to the person wanting their attention.

“I don’t have time for practical jokes- or human trafficking, for that matter,” they said with insistence.

“I’m not joking, and I am definitely not in the business of human trafficking”- Lyrem stuttered incredulously. “I thought you said you knew the place.”

“I do.” They replied. “I’ve just never been in. It’s just one of those ridiculous shops for people to waste their money on colourful rocks. There’s literally a river just under the bridge half a mile from here- infinite supply for none of the coin.”

Taking them by surprise, he laughed.

“You will be the worst salesperson.” He said. More seriously, he added, “look, I really am in need of a person to take care of a few evening shifts and the weekends, I pay well above the average rate for any local retail store, and I’d be able to supply you with health benefits.”

This sudden bargain seemed to be interesting enough for the person to distance themselves from the cork board.

“I’m still finishing high school- under eighteen- is that a problem?” They asked. “It’s been a problem everywhere else”-

“Not a problem.”

They nodded.

“When do I start?”

#whump #whump blog #Mystics by Alpaca #writing #writing blog #Lyrem #chapter one #magical whump #nonbinary character #whumpblr #a little funny

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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I’d like to introduce Vikram (whumper) who’s the son of a billionaire. He’s hardworking and always rewards his employees. But he hates being disrespected and becomes extremely vindictive when it happens. He’s very intelligent and owns his own estate, which of course gives him the opportunity to kidnap whumpees and torture them to death :(

(Physical description- blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, broad frame, wears a tux if he’s going outside).

Vikram: hello! *puts out a hand to shake.

Lyrem clasps the man’s hand, with a genuine smile painting his face. Lyrem studies Vikram closely, as if trying to remember him from long ago.

“My my! I think you were about the size of a loaf of bread the last time I saw you! And I see that you have grown into your father’s good looks!” Lyrem finally releases his hold on the man’s hands and sighs graciously. “You might be surprised to know I did a bit of work for him, way, way back- before he struck gold with his investments.”

Lyrem winks playfully under his greying-to-white brows. Before the conversation could continue any further, a firm hand shoves the old man out of the way.

Arthur looks up from his phone, thankful to have one for the moment, since he needed to quickly use it for Urban Dictionary after hearing an unfamiliar term.

“Whumpees,” he started with flaming eyes. He ignored the disdainful glares from Lyrem who moved to stand behind him. “You torture people? You hurt them and- and kill them for kicks? What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“Cwsg sydyn,”

Arthur felt a quick pinch at the back of his neck and promptly collapsed to the ground. Lyrem stood behind him, with a quick roll of his eyes.

“That’s a spell I learned from the fae,” he explained. “It was enough to put Merlin out for a while. With this idiot, it may last a few weeks.”

There was an awkward pause as the two men stood over Arthur’s body.

Lyrem looked up to Vikram, expectantly.

“Well? You can take him if you want him. I certainly don’t.”

-----------------

I decided to take an unusual angle with this one, I hope you don’t mind that Lyrem inserts himself into Vikram’s father’s past. I love Damro and Vikram, by the way!

Thank you so much for the ask! And I am sorry that Arch was unavailable to meet Vikram this time around.

- Alpaca

#arthur is a caretaker at heart #so i couldn't resist writing his reaction to whump culture #Lyrem #lyrem asks #character ask #Mystics answers #mystics #mystics by alpaca #asks #vikram character #Alpaca ocs #Arthur asks #Lyrem and Arthur moments

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 13

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-12: Masterlist

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: swearing, memory whump kind of, not much else actually.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A WANING CRESCENT

“Say cheese!”

“Cheese!”

There was a flash of light.

Shazia threw her arms around Arch’s neck as Lyrem pulled away to inspect his photo. Their graduation robes weighed them down heavily and it was hot in the upper floor of the theatre, but they both managed a wide grin for the camera regardless. Arch pulled off their graduation cap and ruffled their short feathery hair after the insistent hug. Then, they played with the little green tassel on top, weaving it through a finger as their diploma was held in the same hand.

The idle twitching ceased as Benjamin strode up the stairs to the third level of the building abandoning his parents on the second floor. His freckled face and mess of dark auburn hair cradled his excitable expression about the chartered limos arriving. Arch handed off their cap and diploma to Lyrem, and pulled off the robe with a grateful sigh throwing it over the return desk. Their mauve rhine-stoned romper twinkled in the yellow lighting as well as their short white heels to match.

“Wait,” Lyrem commanded to the three before they were to abandon the rest of the adults for the night.

Arch stood in place. Lyrem wanted another photo.

He took his share of pictures and ushered the graduates off to enjoy their own night. Arch deserved a night of reckless fun. They had been so down lately. Likely because of all the changes they had been going through. Graduating high school was an exciting event, but also one that would mean the end of many friendships, and the end of a regular schedule. For Arch, it would also mean the end of a normal world. The last specks of their innocence would be tossed away like their graduation cap into the crowd. Lyrem held onto it now. He held onto it and would probably put it on display.

“Stay safe and stay out of trouble!” He shouted, seeing the last fluff of hair disappear down the steps as Arch turned the corner. He smiled to himself endearingly and sighed.

“Kids,” a voice tutted behind him. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

Lyrem straightened to a rigid board at the sound.

“Hekate,” he addressed, slowly, he turned toward the Goddess of the Moon. She watched him like a mother seeing their infant walk for the first time. A pitiful, sweet look it was. He grimaced toward her. “To what, do I owe the pleas”-

His voice cut out. Rude.

She breathed in deeply… and out. In the lighting and dispersing foot traffic, she very nearly glowed in her elegance, though she was wearing only a casual business outfit, striped trousers and a simple button up blouse, it made her beautifully dark complexion pop.

“I do enjoy your silence. Walk with me?”

If Lyrem had the ability to make a sound, Hekate may have heard a grumble from him. But he did as she requested, and followed the Goddess down the wide staircase, causing himself to wince with every third step. His knees were not quite as spry and healthy as they once were, if he were able to, he would have requested the use of the elevator instead. She descended the stairs elegantly beside him, as if she were floating.

“You seem to be happy,” She commented. “I like to see my children happy.”

Lyrem nodded, feigning a smile toward her as he clung to the banister. She wasn’t so easily fooled.

“Unfortunately, the time has come for you to deliver me what you owe.”

“What I owe?” His voice worked again, a single chance from her to provide the correct response. Knowing he failed, he didn’t bother to speak another time.

“Just because the woman you raised from death left you for another man, does not mean that your debt has been forgiven, Lyrem.”

He nodded, understandingly as they met the bottom of the stairs finally. His legs, thankful for the relief.

She smiled warmly. “You are in debt with several other God’s and Great Spirits as well as myself, are you not?”

Lyrem looked off to the glass doors; the last of the limousines drove off into the evening twilight. He refused to answer her, having one God after his literal heart was bad enough, to be reminded that there was yet another, was a kick in the pants.

“Hades demands your life and gained power as well, does he not?”

His head snapped back to her, his eyes wider, his thoughts and reckless nature betraying him. His voice worked again.

“How do you know about that?”

“You really believed you could trap the God of the Underworld in a Labyrinth?”

“Fuck.”

Hekate laughed.

“Do not fret, my child. He cannot reach the surface and so you are safe as long as you can avoid his… chosen emissaries.”

Lyrem nodded. “Well, that I can do.”

“Hm.” Hakate voiced absently. Strolling outside, she stared toward the west, where the sun was sinking behind the city buildings. “You’ve avoided paying your debts with many of us. Whether changing your name to avoid the fae, or substituting the sacrifice of your own life with the lives of others, or by throwing us into your little holes with help from silly little demons…”

Lyrem remained silent, waiting for the Goddess to finish.

“But from you, I have seen neither hide nor hair. I have been waiting for a scheme to arise, I was curious to see what you might come up with to shake me off your tail.”

“I don’t scheme,” he spouted at her, offended. “I plan.”

She smirked, yet again. Nothing ever seemed to upset this one. Nothing ever offended, or caused her to stray from her task at hand. Perhaps that was what disturbed Lyrem about her so. She never seemed to care. And yet she cared.

“There is no plan?” She asked. “Not for me?”

Lyrem fell into silence again. It was so tempting to tell her everything. She drew a calmness out of him that very few were ever capable of. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

“You gave me more than anyone else could. I would never trade my years with Maria for anything. I would not try evade what I owe to you for that favour.” He shuddered. Arch wasn’t ready yet. This was an earlier visit than he had been planning for, but Aurelius would tell him to accept his fate and be thankful for it, so, Lyrem tried. “If what you demand from me Hekate, is my life, my power, and essence, then I will go with you tonight and I will not challenge my fate any longer. I respect you too highly for that.”

“That is reassuring, but not what I need from you,” She interrupted him, touched by the gentle mention of his ex-wife. She stared at him expectantly.

“There is a plan.” Lyrem succumbed. “A retirement plan… I knew that eventually, one of my creditors would come to collect. Whether it be you or some other”- he sighed, and shook his head. “It’s Arch.”

“Ah, your latest…” Hekate raised a thick dark brow, “investment.”

“That might be one way of describing them, yes.” Stoically, as he tried, his composure faltered, ever so slightly.

“You care about them?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Hm.”

Lyrem stopped at the road side, seeing his SUV parked across the street, he pulled his keys from his back pocket.

“Why are you here, Hekate?” he finally managed. “If not to settle my debt, then why have you come?”

She sighed, staring up to the sky above them that was growing different shades. In a couple hours, the world would be plunging into a deep darkness.

“I simply wanted to understand.” She spoke gently, then addressed him with a warmness that nearly made him buckle under her gaze. “I wanted to understand you… I am forgiving your debt.”

Lyrem blinked, taken aback by the sudden generosity.

“Excuse me?” He voiced.

She nodded to him.

“I… I don’t understand.” Lyrem stared at her, suspicious of her words. Disbelieving of her decision. “You gave me Maria back. I cannot ever repay you for that”-

“Exactly.” She said knowingly. “And you think me to take your little friend’s life in replacement of your own? That would be well and truly barbaric- not my style at all. You know this.

And I see now that there was once a time when you made deals to prosper, to control of the world around you; you made agreements to fill your pockets and to bring you pleasure- and that was with all sorts of spirits and demons and demi-gods”- she huffed. “But with me, you asked for your love to be returned to you. You loved another so much that you even allowed her to leave you for another man. I never once thought that you were capable of such a noble deed.

And here you are, trying to live a part of life that you never thought you could have… Do you know what is more valuable to a Goddess than the saintly wishes of a good man?”

Lyrem was confused. She had this effect on him the first time as well.

“… No.”

“The saintly wishes of a bad man.”

“Ah.”

“If there is one thing you can do in return for me, it’s to take care of those that care about you. Pay off your debts with the others, be accountable for what you have done.”

Lyrem tilted his head slightly.

“… But that isn’t all necessary, is it?”

She smirked, and looked into him one final time.

“Goodbye Lyrem, your debt to me is forgiven.”

She melted into the darkness until nothing remained behind, leaving Lyrem to ponder what this change in heart would well and truly mean for himself… and more importantly, Arch.

#mystics by alpaca #mystics #writing #creative writing #original writing #prose #story #whump #whump writing #writeblr #writers of tumblr #tw swearing #hekate #lyrem #alpaca Ocs #ocs #writing blog

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 24

Read Chapters 1-23 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Suicide attempt, swearing, drunken stupor. Lyrem needs his own content warnings, seriously.

This includes the FlashBackFever #1 from the Masterlist, but also contains valuable information regarding the plotline. This picks up directly after Chapter 22.

Dedicating this chapter to @myst-in-the-mirror for their wonderful name suggestion for the TimeWorm, Opus! Xx.

-Alpaca.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WHEN LYREM MET PAIMON

“Your essence, your memories, everything you are,” Hades spoke; his voice echoed through the deep, dark gloom, “belongs to me.”

“My essence was spared as a favor to Kronos, if you recall.” Lyrem sniffed and snarled. “Is this really the type of greeting I get for pet-sitting little Opus all those years ago?”

“Ha! Did you think I would allow you the privilege of eternal life because you took care of Kronos’ Time-Worm for a few measly hours? Please.” Hades tutted amusedly. “Regardless, you’ve become quite a different man since then. I am not sure I would ever want the essence someone who murdered and then ate the heart of his own father… But at least your memories retain a certain value to me at this time.”

The mark that Lyrem bore on his chest- the brand that Maria would always say looked like a wine glass carrying a single grape- well… it began to burn. Lyrem grimaced and seethed through his teeth as he felt the brand sear through him like a thousand small razors cutting beneath his chest. It was the same feeling as when he first received it.

Slowly, the searing pain faded away, and Lyrem was able to straighten himself once again, and he touched his chest. The mark was gone.

The warm scent of chai drifted over him. Hades was holding a large mug in his hands and he lifted it to his white bearded face. Lyrem studied the hulking God, unsure of his purpose here.

“Perhaps I should apologize for acting so rashly. When I heard that you were coming to collect, I understandably panicked- you know Maria and I had only just bought the house together and I wasn’t ready to go yet.”-

Hades smiled lightly as his head shook slowly. He sighed impatiently as Lyrem continued in his nervous frenzy-

“I mean, now that I think back about it, I’m not sure I should have listened to Paimon when he told me what you wanted. He’s a demon. Does he even consort with your kind? I didn’t mean to be a nuisance for you – truly. I wasn’t fully aware of what I was agreeing to at the time you brought me back from the dead, anyways. That was all Kronos’ insistence. You remember. I was young and naïve, of course”-

“It’s alright.” Hades hushed him unexpectedly. “Being stuck in one corner of a Labyrinth for thirty years is not really worth avenging in my book. To you humans, it’s akin to being stuck in a line-up for five extra minutes. Would you like a coffee? A tea perhaps? Persephone makes a wonderful chai from scratch, though the plants take a little while to grow first. This place… isn’t exactly kind to her.”

Lyrem searched around. A small couch appeared behind him, a deep blue colour. Hades motioned for him to sit, and so he did. It would be foolish of him to refuse.

“A… a coffee would be very much appreciated,” he finally answered. “Where is Persephone?”

Hades sat across from him in his own chair and he cleared his throat.

“She can only be seen by living souls. I, on the other hand, can only be witnessed by the dead. But we can still hear each other and create for each other, without any problems.”

“Oh,” Lyrem nodded. “That must be…”

Nice? Sad? Actually, Lyrem wouldn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t know how.

“It’s annoying,” Persephone finished. “We can only ever see each other in our own realm. Our real realm- the one we created ourselves- and who knows what that creature is doing to it!”

Hades tsked. “Persephone, that is not how you address family- whether they are with us or not.”

He sipped his tea and allowed Lyrem to watch as his coffee materialized for him in a small ceramic cup. Rigidly, Lyrem sat there, unsure of whether to be comforted by the hospitality or suspicious of it.

“Sorry it took so long,” Persephone apologized. “I haven’t grown a coffea in ages! I chose arabica for you, I hope that is fine.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Lyrem said. “I-I’m sorry, God Hades, may I please understand why I am here? You wanted Arthur to bring me here for a reason. Do you want me to release you from this place? Send you back to your proper realm?”

“Ooh he’s a quick one,” She exclaimed, the sarcasm was not lost with the absence of her face. If she was visible, Lyrem would have seen her sit beside him on the couch. Instead, he only felt the pull of the upholstery dipping next to him.

“Well, unfortunately, you cannot release us from this place. It’s not under your control.” Hades answered, causing Lyrem to be taken aback.

“Yes, it is. You may have been able to co-opt it to your liking, but I can certainly…” Lyrem paused with a hand suspended. He pushed his hand around, almost playfully through the air. “Uh… Open… open a door…”

Nothing happened. He brought his hand back down. It worked the last time he was here, dropping these two away in the hole. Of course, Paimon needed to help him at the time. Regardless, he was told he had control. Of course, why would he ever test it when a God who wanted his essence was trapped here? Paimon knew he wouldn’t try to release Hades. It would be a death sentence.

“Perhaps, I am less powerful as a dead man,” Lyrem surmised.

“Oh love, no,” Persephone coddled him in the effort to raise his spirits a little higher. “If anything, you should be more powerful than ever as a dead man. But those hearts you’ve been taking like vitamins? They do you less good than you think… You know, what, Uncle? I think he knew it too. I don’t think he wanted him to be strong.”

Lyrem turned to her space for clarification. “I’m sorry, who knew what?”

“My nephew, Pan,” Hades answered.

“He’s always been a trouble maker,” Hades remarked. “This place is a little caged corner of his Labyrinth. I was not prepared for his increased strength as he transitioned to adulthood. It’s quite a solid construction. I have yet to devise a way out.

It’s also why I needed you to die. Your soul is linked to me, not to the Underworld. And you are innately knowledgeable of Pan’s motivations. We needed to talk.”

Lyrem sipped at his coffee, growing more and more confused by the moment.

“I would honestly be quite impressed by Pan’s work if he wasn’t so notoriously cunning, and quite frankly, annoying about it. But that was always his way, you know.” Hades continued in a nostalgic fashion. “He would do all sorts of silly things- start music contests; him with his little flute, he loved that thing though I can’t remember the last time I saw him play it. He loved those little competitions- especially with family”-

“Ohh. I remember when he came around Mount Olympus showing off the wood nymphs he caged”- Persephone shuddered. It could be felt more than seen. “He plucked off their wings and forced them to race, that creepy bastard”-

“Persephone!”

“I’m sorry. He was just so horrible sometimes.”

“Who are we speaking about, again?”

“Pan.” “Pan!”

“Pan?” Lyrem shook his head, remembering his knowledge on classic Greek mythology. “…Isn’t the Great God Pan, dead?”

The God and Goddess let out a mighty good chuckle, leaving Lyrem annoyed and confused, and off to the side.

“Okay,” Persephone caught her breath. “That was a good prank; Convincing the world he was dead… Oh it never gets old. I can’t believe it stuck around this long. I guess it fits that he’s disguised as a spirit from a false religion now.”

Lyrem stole looks from Hades to the empty space, and then back again in growing disbelief. Hades continued.

“Pan is one of my nephews. A childlike God. And like all children, he grew bored with the course that his life was taking. In order to amuse himself, he began toying with the lives of innocent humans and facilitated humanity’s suffering on a massive scale. Played people against one another and started wars between great nations. He would place bets on who would win and he would become angry and spiteful when no one would bet against him. He stole children away from their families just to watch their reactions when they found the bodies- he would corrupt the most innocent to hurt at his command – what is more is he tortured people into taking their own lives- and the more he did these things, the easier it all became… I won’t blame his parents,” Hades nodded sympathetically to the ‘empty’ seat, “But he needed intervention a long time ago, desperately.”

The tone had suddenly shifted to one of melancholy as Hades explained his nephew’s troubling past.

“Trying to reason with him became more difficult and each time I tried to help him, he would push me away. Finally, being as resourceful and unbelievably stupid as he was, he swept my realm clean, leaving myself and Persephone locked in the equivalent of a closet in the void of the Underworld- that would be what he likes to call the ‘Labyrinth’.” With a shudder, Hades looked away, shamefully. “One powerful human who bears my mark and a few sacrificial hearts were all he needed to help him with that little task.”

“Me…” Lyrem placed the pieces together slowly, his life flashing before him in a new light, a new context. “Are you saying, what I think you’re saying? Paimon… Paimon is Pan?!”

Hades nodded.

“He gave me a reason to fear you, and then he showed me how to trap you...” Lyrem reasoned. “I’ve known him for thirty-two years. How could I have not known this?”

“Well, first of all, you certainly have a reason to fear me, I am the God of Death and I will still claim your essence one day.” Hades finished his drink, and the mug disappeared. “But I am slow to anger. Zeus would certainly have struck you down by now, and Poseidon has already put you on a list for that ridiculous prank with Perseus you pulled.”

Hades chuckled softly. “It was quite funny though.”

With widening eyes, Lyrem sat back, and tried to find what little was left of his honour and dignity with these Gods who spoke of his life like it was a mere sitcom for them to be entertained by.

“This is ridiculous. Whether or not Paimon is Pan, I am a man who stands by those who are loyal to me,” Lyrem scoffed, “If you wish for me to betray him in any way at all, I shall simply refuse.”

He sat up and crossed his arms like a petulant child, just begging for a scolding.

Hades went silent, as well as Persephone.

“He’s really not terribly bright, is he, Uncle?” Persephone whispered harshly. “It’s beside the point. We need to find Apollo! Let’s open up his mind again.”

“What? No! Please, don’t”-

---------------------------------

Beijing, China. 1989.

“You will never know true love.”

The Eastern Oracle looked up from the bowl of still water, perched atop the short table from where the three sat on the pillows and watched her client with interest. His dark brows were neatly knit together in a scowl and clearly disappointed. The client did not understand what she had spoken. She could tell.

She glanced to the translator next and then looked back to the man who began to speak.

“Oh…” he quietly accepted. “I see.”

He swallowed. The incense smoke drifted up through the air, condensing their little area in a thin fog. The Oracle said something else in her native Cantonese; her tone rather insistent this time. Urgent, even. Lyrem could tell.

The translator paused, then spoke: “she says that your fate was never to be loved, only to be respected. It is the only thing that matters to you.”

Lyrem blinked. Respect was a value of his, yes- but the only thing that mattered to him?

“But… love, true love…” he started feeling silly even before he uttered the words. “It exists?”

The translator repeated his words and then the Oracle watched him carefully.

“For you.” the Oracle spoke in Cantonese. Unfortunately, Lyrem was not well versed in the language at all. “Only for you does true love exist.”

Lyrem glanced to the translator.

“She says, ‘Only for very few, does true love exist.”

He sighed. At least he wasn’t the only one, he thought. He stood up, paid the two in full, and bowed before making his exit.

Thankfully, there was a local merchant of alcohol nearby. Lyrem stopped there first to buy himself a case of sake before returning to his hotel room. Eight floors up, he was.

It would be quick and easy to find his way to the ground.

He cracked open his first and played himself in a game of solitaire on the table by the window. Reflecting there on his last several weeks of hunting for a sacred stone in the Himalayas. It had already been delivered unto Cáishén, a Chinese god of wealth and prosperity several days before now. He wouldn’t get anything in return for his sweat, tears, and blood- only his clients would. At least they paid him well enough. But it had been several days since he returned from the peaks and Lyrem hadn’t bothered to book himself a flight back home to receive his cheque.

At his second bottle, he ordered dinner up. It didn’t matter what was on the menu, but he was craving something richly flavoured and warm. Pork buns, he thought. They were often his favourite and would do well as a last meal. He had finished his second bottle before it was delivered.

Yes, they smelled heavenly.

And then he lost his appetite.

He opened a third and flicked the bottle cap across the room- damn- he missed the trash bin.

At some point, he had sat on the bed to read a paper he had picked up from a stall that day. It was mostly in English- except for the ads.

President Bush signs $166-Billion-dollar corporate bailout, the article read.

“Didn’t trek across the mountains for nothing then. You’re fucking welcome, everybody,” he muttered rudely to himself.

He opened his fourth drank it, and then got up to take a long piss. He washed his face and ran a wet hand through his head of soft brown hair. His face still burned with the cold from an altitude he was not accustomed too- it left his cheeks pink and dry.

The wind had pick up. The mustard yellow curtains flipped around wildly bringing in the stale scent of dust and inner-city smog along with it. Lyrem didn’t remember opening the door to the balcony- at least he hadn’t bothered to, yet.

But now was a good a time as any… Wasn’t it?

What was the point of living if not for love?

He heard the rush of traffic below and the honking of horns, and then he tried to remember what the point of making any sound was, if no one cared for what you had to say. He flipped on the radio that was bolted into the side table. Tuned to a station catering to American music, it crackled through the middle of Hotel California with great effort.

He stepped over the threshold and looked out across Beijing and their neon lights with his hands tightly gripped to each other behind his back. He sniffed and considered his next move.

Hands forward, he gripped the railing tight.

He bit his lower lip as the lights blurred ahead of him.

He became angry with the Oracle, but only for a second.

He lifted a leg and found his own perch.

The sake had really done a good job of calming his nerves. Lyrem was actually quite surprised that he wasn’t more unstable. Perhaps that was the unique charm of the drink. Or perhaps a bit more adrenaline was pumping through his veins than he cared to realize.

Lyrem held his breath at the edge of the railing, and then closed his eyes.

He tipped forward, welcoming the rush.

He was caught. His eyes opened, and he was suspended in mid-air staring down at the busy street below. Life, he saw, flashing by… but not his own.

He was lifted back by a pair of strong arms and then the savior let him fall to the floor with a sudden thump!

“You sad, sorry bastard,” the voice of the saviour said. “You need help.”

Perhaps a neighbour saw him attempt suicide, came to the rescue. But Lyrem could have sworn he locked his door- and he didn’t hear a soul break in. The guest sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against a cane to support himself on the way down.

Lyrem grunted against the floor.

“Go away,” he groaned out.

The guest rolled his eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked. Part of him may have been genuinely asking, but he didn’t wait for a response. “You have everything you could ever possibly desire in this world! How old are you? Forty? Maybe? You still have a long life ahead of you to do absolutely anything you want!

Women! They ought to be climbing all over you- unless of course, the men are more your thing- I don’t mean to judge of course, love is love.”

The guest continued on as Lyrem struggled to his knees.

“Riches! You’ve got that! Wine, cocaine, parties, travelling the world? My man, you have yourself a slice of heaven on Earth! You’re like a bloody rock star!”

Lyrem glared up at the black-bearded wonder sitting on his bed, in his room, who opened the fifth bottle of sake that was sitting next to him.

The guest grimaced at the taste, but kept it balanced on his knee.

“I guess, what I am really wondering,” he continued. “Is what the hell drives a man like you to the edge like this?”

Lyrem struggled to stand, and leaned against the chair, slowly and shakily, he climbed into it, and then studied the stranger best he could. His eyes drifted away from him each time he tried to focus. He swallowed carefully. Feeling sick, he might not ever answer the man.

“L-love. True love,” he managed.

The stranger balked.

“True love?!”

“Fuck off.”

Teetering on the edge of the bed, the stranger leaned forward.

“It’s just so funny though, isn’t it? Love… you’d think a man like you could find it anywhere”-

“I don’t want to find it just anywhere,” Lyrem reasoned, cradling his head into his hands. “I want it to be real. I want it to be true. I want it to be perfect.”

“No love is real, or true, or perfect. It’s just… Love.”

“Is that supposed to be encouraging?”

“It’s supposed to snap you out of this depressive episode. It’s degrading. Just by looking at you, I want to throw myself off this balcony.”

Lyrem scoffed, managed a smirk and looked up.

“You’re an asshole.”

“The name’s Paimon,” the stranger grinned. “And you’re right, I am an asshole- but I’m also exactly what you need.”

Lyrem shifted his head back. He wasn’t a man with a variety of tastes. He preferred wom-

“A demon,” he finished.

“Pffffft.” Lyrem opened his mouth. “You think I need you? A demon?”

“You’re human, aren’t you?”

“Obviously.”

“Then we were always meant to be.” Paimon surmised. “Listen, I know you’re a man of many talents, gained the favours of many gods, and many powerful human souls- I’ve been tracking you for quite some time.”

Lyrem rolled his eyes up at the ceiling where watermarks dotted around in various sizes.

“Here’s my proposal- and if you don’t like it, then you are free to fling yourself off the balcony again and this time, I won’t stop you”-

“I don’t consort with demons. I have a rule about that,” Lyrem said, beginning to sober up at the mention of something more work related.

“’course, you do,” Paimon winked at him. “But what if I told you that I could find you your true love? What if I could promise you that? What if I told you that all you would need to do is sit beside her on this flight”- He pulled a plane ticket from the inside of his jacket pocket. “-from Beijing to Lisbon, tomorrow afternoon?”

Lyrem stared suspiciously from the ticket and then back to Paimon’s unearthly aura. He didn’t notice it until now.

“This is a trick,” Lyrem stated. He then turned it to a question. “What do I do for you in return?”

Paimon’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head.

“Nothing at all,” Paimon could see that Lyrem knew he was bullshitting. “Alright. Here’s what I require in return: your… friendship.”

Lyrem reached out, pulled the ticket from the demon’s hand and stood. Studying it in the light, it was real. It was the very same company he had traveled with to get to China about a month back.

“If I don’t give you the true love that you desire,” Paimon proposed. “Then I will leave you in peace and never return.”

“Still sounds like a trick.”

“Some deals are just too good to pass up,” Paimon chortled. “Trust me, I know.”

Lyrem took a deep breath. Paimon wanted his friendship in return for giving him true love? He scratched his chin, stubbled and dry. If he refused, the demon might only return one day when he was even more desperate- and Lyrem couldn’t exactly guarantee he would say no then and Paimon would almost certainly raise his expectations for him.

“You have a deal,” Lyrem settled with nothing to lose. “Friendship it is. Name’s Lyrem.”

Paimon smiled, knowing that the money he had spent to bribe the translator was well worth it, and clasped the man’s hand tight.

“Lyrem… You won’t regret this,” he grinned through shining eyes.

--------------------------------

Labyrinth Cage, present day.

Lyrem lifted his head off the back of the couch that had supported him this time through a most unpleasant journey down memory lane.

“… He lied.”

Many years had passed since he had first travelled to China- and since then he had been hired to return enough times that he had to learn some basic Cantonese for himself.

The Oracle had told him how to find Maria- not that he would’ve had to try very hard. There was a job, just off the coast of Portugal that he had been asked to do, not long after he had arrived in Lisbon. He thought it to be a simple coincidence at the time and nothing more. The people who hired him to get it done probably had his plane ticket waiting at the front desk. He was just too self-absorbed to check in with them about it, but it was more likely that Paimon had gotten to it first.

But… he understood now. The demon who he called a friend, wasn’t a demon at all.

It was Pan. And Pan was playing him. He had been playing him from the very start.

If he had heard the Oracle correctly the first time, he would have known that his true love would be found. He wouldn’t have drunk himself half to death and he wouldn’t have dangled himself off the balcony of his room. And if all of that was true- then he wouldn’t have been desperate enough to consort with something like him, demon or not. Paimon-Pan- wanted him desperate. Wanted Lyrem to need him. He needed Lyrem to see him as his one and only salvation.

There, for when Maria couldn’t be.

“I need to speak to him.”

A firm hand pushed him back down in his seat. It was invisible, but strong.

“He’ll annihilate you like an ant, Lyrem. Believe me, I’ve seen it many times. You’re not the first human he’s trained this way.” Persephone cooed, softly.

“Trained?!” Lyrem repeated emphatically, insulted. “No, no… I just need to talk to him. He’s…”

“-your friend?”

Lyrem paled, and then swallowed.

“Yes! Yes, he is! And when I speak with him, then… I’m sure everything will be explained”-

He cut himself off. There was no reason for him to make excuses for Paimon. He lied to him, and he knew exactly what he was doing all along.

“Arch is with him now. You don’t think he would hurt, Arch, do you?”

Hades’ face became painted in concern for Lyrem and his friend’s well-being. He didn’t want to answer the poor man. Persephone interjected.

“He also has one of my brothers- Apollo is trapped in our realm. We have to save him from Pan. I have no idea what he’ll do to him,” Persephone turned to Hades in urgency, though, neither Hades nor Lyrem would have known it. “Uncle, this whole time we’ve assumed that it was Maria who had a connection with Pan and therefore Apollo. But how likely is it that Apollo used Arch to send his call?”

Hades lifted his eyebrows in consideration.

“If this Arch is important to Lyrem and has a connection to Pan, then it is quite likely Apollo would find a way to use them.”

“What’s his call for? Why are you searching for it in me? In my head?” Lyrem asked. “If you can explain to me what to look for then I might already know what it is. I could show it to you!”

“And that could be enough to help you find him and release him,” the sound of Persephone’s smile resounded through her words. “Once Apollo is released from his prison, he could open a door into the Labyrinth instantly and release us.

His call, it would have been something musical. Something special to you. Arch would have been present for it.”

“A song playing then? Or maybe an earworm?” Lyrem suggested.

Hades shuddered. “Oh, I don’t want to know what that looks like- if it’s anything like Opus and its iridescent coloured slime”-

“I don’t think I recall any earworms… Wait…” Lyrem had a sudden stroke of genius; something bizarre that he had remembered ever since he had met Arch several months ago. “’Everyone knows City and Colour’.” He repeated Arch’s words slowly back to himself.

“Cities and colours?,” Persephone questioned, "What do they have to do with this?”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with this. However,” Lyrem refuted. A small smirk curled itself alongside his face. “I do believe Segovia might…”

5 notes · View notes

alpaca-writes · 3 years

Text

Mystics, Chapter 22

Read Chapters 1-21 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: very sad... like quite sad. Not the saddist I have planned for him, but obviously Lyrem centric because it is sad. Also Memory whump :) and Cancer mention :(

If you enjoy my work and are reading my stories then please do me a teeny tiny favor and reblog my work! Xx. - Alpaca.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: ROOM 111

Lyrem opened his eyes, exhausted from the effort to stay awake. The nurse released his hand from the man’s shoulder as he remembered what he would be waking up to and Lyrem jolted upright in the navy cloth seat. The waiting room was painted white from top to bottom with just a bit of colour on the walls in the failed attempt for the area to feel welcoming.

“Sir,” the nurse addressed him. “Your wife is out of surgery now.”

Lyrem sniffed and stood up, the weight of a clear stone sat in his pocket. On it was etched a symbol of an oddly shaped wheel with three prongs. It was the only thing holding him together-especially now as his legs were fighting him the whole way down the hall. Truthfully, he didn’t want to see her. He was afraid to see her.

He imagined tubes. Too many tubes. Sticking out of Maria at every direction- smeared with rusty patches of blood- in pain and breathing with difficulty. He’d have to deliver her water, probably; Ask for a nurse to give her more pillows and more pain relief, too. He should have brought flowers- what kind of idiot forgets to bring flowers to his wife’s hospital bed?!

“Can I speak with the surgeon?” Lyrem stuck out a hand, brushing the forearm of the nurse who would lead him to Maria. “Can I know…”

He couldn’t finish the question- how much longer she has?

The nurse paused to nod him a sympathetic smile.

“The surgeon will be available to speak with you both soon.”

Lyrem choked back a small breath. Maria was awake? He didn’t think she would be awake. The nurse left him outside the door with the silver numbers 111 beside it. His reflection, nailed to the door jam, played his fear back to him. It reminded him that he couldn’t be afraid. He wouldn’t let her know he was.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes before crossing over the threshold- perhaps it was out of habit. Part of him even wished the Labyrinth might take him instead of Room 111.

“Oh, who’s this handsome fella?”

Lyrem’s mouth curled at the edges. Before speaking, he reached into his jacket, and pulled out a small yellow book.

“His name’s Aurelius.”

Maria chuckled lightly. The book was set down on the attached table to the bedframe. She didn’t reach for it. Lyrem found his eyes drifting away from hers each time he felt the contact lingered for too long. Her eyes like storm clouds, were once bright and lively. Today, and for many days previous, they had sunken in her growing sickness.

“Did they tell you anything, yet?” Lyrem asked with his eyes to the geometric carpeted floor. It was badly stained and needed desperate replacing.

Maria shook her head and closed her eyes. There were tubes just helping the oxygen flow and not much else other than an IV and blood oxygen monitor clipped to her finger. He could hear the laborious breathing though. That was something she didn’t have before she had come in. Before she had said much at all, Lyrem sensed that she was tired.

“You should keep it,” she said softly, nodding to the book. “I’ve read it a thousand times over. I don’t need it anymore.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve finally achieved enlightenment?”

“Stop being a goose,” she commanded. “You’d learn a lot from it. Just take it already.”

Lyrem’s eyes clouded over. Swallowing, he sat down beside her on a simple black chair, and shook his head.

“No, I don’t need it.”

Maria sighed. Her eyes disappointed in his condescending and stubborn refusals, though she was not at all surprised by it.

“Lyrem… we both know what he is going to say”-

“No, we don’t. We haven’t heard anything from the surgeon yet”-

“The chance that I recover even with chemo is extremely low”-

“There are always alternative treatments if it becomes too hard for you”-

“I know I don’t have much longer”-

“For fuck sake’s, Maria! Are you really so desperate to get rid of me?!”

A hush fell through the room. There wasn’t a sound, save the steps of nurses and doctors directing themselves through the halls and the odd traveling visitor. Lyrem’s head fell, his face red with shame…

“You think that I want to get rid of you?”

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

“You think I’d rather die than be by your side, Lyrem?”

“No, I”-

“I would never,” her voice shook with an anger hardly seen. Her eyes burned with tears of betrayal and what Lyrem would have only seen as regret if he was ever brave enough to meet her gaze. “Ever tell you that. I would never choose to discard you like that”-

“Maria, I”-

“I stood by your side. I was always there for you and I waited for you for ages”-

“I know, my love. I’m s”-

“I loved you, Lyrem.”

“I’m so sorry, Maria.”

Loved.

He waited, holding his breath, but Maria was finished speaking. In fact, she didn’t even notice how she had placed that single letter at the end of the word that meant so much. He had noticed it immediately. He rubbed the palm of his hand down his face and stood up.

“Where is that goddamn surgeon?!”

Lyrem stepped out of the room, only to find himself face to face with a doctor- or who he assumed to be one. She was tall, dark skinned and donned a long white coat. Her hands clasped in front of her, as if she had expected him to appear there.

“Lyrem Nomadus?”

Startled by the sudden contact, he straightened against the door jam and nodded in confirmation. His striped button up shirt billowed out slightly and was left partially untucked; the last evidence that a man of his position had given up. Stepping out of the way, he allowed the woman into the room.

Maria had already drifted into an exhausted sleep in the time that he had left for the door and returned to his chair. She deserved the rest. Reaching out, he held Maria’s hand. Her skin was rough and dry from the cold, unfeeling hospital where she had been staying for some time. There was a small bottle of lotion near the headboard. He took some in his hands and began to massage hers tenderly as she slept; almost placing him into a calming, meditative trance. It smelled of lilacs.

“Stage four,” the woman said simply.

“Yes, we know,” Lyrem said robotically. “You’re not the doctor we spoke with before she went under. Where is he?”

“He was on his way, but became distracted with more …important patients.”

With a fire in his eyes, Lyrem snapped.

“My wife is the most important patient in this fucking building!”

“You’re quite a mouthy one, aren’t you?”

He huffed, and returned to attending Maria, concerned that his voice had woken her, he became still. The woman in the white coat closed the door gently and with a keen eye she studied Lyrem as he cradled his wife’s hand and placed a gentle kiss at the tips of her fingers.

“May I ask you a personal question, Lyrem?”

“What do you want to know?” He said tiredly.

“What is your definition of true love?”

He looked up, furrowing his brows.

“Excuse me?”

“What is it? True love, to you?”

Lyrem shifted in his seat, and thought for a couple moments. The inkling that this person was more than a doctor, or a surgeon for that matter, was quite clear.

“It’s something that is meant to be. It’s destiny, and it’s perfect.”

The woman hummed. “That is very cute. I hope you don’t mind me saying.”

“And may I ask the same question of you?” Lyrem posed indignantly. He lowered Maria’s hand to her side again. His eyes became more steeled. Serious.

The woman grinned and approached and danced her fingers along the bedspread. Her eyes continued to linger on him as she explained herself.

“True love…” she began. “To me… Exists and does not exist…

At the same time.

Everyone loves in a thousand different ways every single day.

And yet we do not count a thought, a touch, a kiss, as acts of true love?

What is any type of love, if not true?

If love is not true… Is it truly love?”

“Forget I asked,” Lyrem grumbled a sigh.

She giggled, like someone was tickling a feather against the back of her neck.

“What is so funny to you?”

“Oh, well,” she started. “I can feel your friend…the fiend. He’s trying to visit us now.” She lowered her voice to a playful whisper. “He can’t. I won’t let him interrupt.”

Lyrem nodded and stood up from his chair. Pulling out a pale yellow, cloudy stone from his pocket, he held it up. She regarded it with a nod.

“You’ve made yourself a moonstone. That is quite the feat.” she acknowledged. “All to summon little old me?”

Lyrem’s grip tightened on the stone. So, she was Hekate. She finally showed up. Only took her four bloody weeks. Maria had done a lot of suffering in that time.

“Yes.” He confirmed. Suspicious, more than hopeful, Lyrem placed it back into his pocket. “And I would like to make a deal with you”-

. . . . . . . .

“No!” The voice shouted through the darkness, the deeper one. “Where is it?!”

“Oh, for goodness sake’s Hades!” Persephone hollered. “Maybe it has nothing to do with Maria? Maybe his call was somewhere else. We’ll find it eventually; we just have to keep searching.”

“Hades!” Lyrem shouted. Once again, he was awoken into darkness from a deep memory. “Persephone! You both stop this charade right, bloody now!”

“Oh great, now he knows we’re here.”

Lyrem scoffed, his hands reaching his hips, he screamed right back once again. How dare they sift through his memories like old photos in a box, pulling him in and out of all the moments he wanted nothing more than to forget.

“You utter fools! I knew I would arrive here! I knew you’d both be waiting! And I absolutely despise this attempt at torture! It’s boring! It’s… It’s… aggravating. Just let me die, already!”

“I’m very sorry poor thing,” Persephone piped up, “But it’s really not meant to be torture for your little soul. We’re simply… looking for something”-

“I don’t care what you’re looking for. Get out of my min”-

. . . . . . . .

He was in a room.

The backroom.

Maria sat at the table with her small, thin, and wrinkled hands folded neatly. She only ever saw the back room once in her life and this was it. She had hardly looked around. Mystics was her pride and joy, but she wouldn’t be able to have it. Not anymore.

A bejeweled and bloody knife sat beside her hands.

“There’s enough money in your account for you to live happily. You’ll never have to worry about a thing,” Lyrem said as he sat across from her at the table.

“I never wanted to break your heart.” She spoke softly.

He should have noticed it earlier; the small changes in her voice when she spoke to him, the softness in her eyes that had grown calloused; the unfeeling nature of her hand in his. It wasn’t the sickness that had brought it on. This had been the nature of their love for a long, lonely time.

“My heart’s fine,” he said coldly.

Perspectives had changed since she had survived her battle with cancer. Maria loved him well for many years, but her life with him was over now. Lyrem saw that now too- he was just too afraid to admit it.

After Hekate’s deal, and Maria had been miraculously healed in a way that doctors would study for years to come. She had reconnected with an old friend through the ordeal when Lyrem was away, searching for ways to keep her alive. The friend was one who had divorced his wife and was now living in Cuba, retired and carefree. Phillip had a lovely beach house, with a dock, and a yacht, and one of those jacuzzi tubs that Maria could never get enough of when she found herself in a nice hotel.

“Give me your hand,” he requested, holding his own out for her to take one last time.

The hand she offered had been scarred many times over and rarely had her wound ever been re-opened on purpose. Occasionally, Maria would see something she was not supposed to or know something that could have dire consequences for Lyrem if it ever was released into the world. It was safer if her memories were simply removed.

This time, he wanted to erase himself.

Everything they had ever done, he wanted it gone. He ushered her out the back door as her escort. Their final words had been shared. A cab would pick her up outside of Mystics in a few minutes to take her to the airport with a pair of packed yellow suitcases.

“Memorias vim ex”-

“Wait,” she stopped him, and stared up at his aged features. She wondered if she would still see him as handsome as he was now when her memories of him were gone. “I still… I care about you, Lyrem. Please, take care of yourself. Promise me.”

Any softness left in his eyes immediately hardened. He told himself he didn’t care what she had left to say. She had wasted enough of her life with him already. There wasn’t a moment to lose.

“Memorias vim extermina.”

The cut on her hand healed itself thoroughly, fusing the skin together to leave not much more than a thin red welt on her palm. She turned back toward the street. The only thing on her mind now, was where to wait for her cab.

He stepped into the back room, as silently as possible, just in time for Hades to bring him back into his present situation with a well fueled rage.

“If you hedonistic cretins don’t stop what you’re doing, right now, I”-

“You poor mortal man,” the deep voice claimed. “You still bear my mark, don’t you?”

There was a dim blue glow. Finally, something for Lyrem to address properly.

“Yes,” he spoke through gritted teeth, nearly pulling his hair out at the madness that was threatening to overtake him. Instead, his hand hovered over a spot on the upper left of his chest, mindful of the brand that Hades had blessed him with many years ago. “Quite frankly, it’s been a thorn in my side for decades.”

“A simple reminder of what you owe me.” Hades corrected him, stepping out of the light. His towering figure loomed over Lyrem. Hades snapped his fingers, bringing more light into the cavernous realm. Deep bluish hues overtook them both, painting Hades’ stark white beard with a cobalt glow.

“Your essence, your memories, everything you are,” Hades spoke; his voice echoed through the deep, dark gloom, “belongs to me.”

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 10

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six] [chapter seven] [chapter eight] [chapter nine]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror

CW: misgendering of a nb character, creepy/intimate whump, psychological whump, shipwreck mention.

CHAPTER TEN: GEMINI PT II

Charlotte would not hesitate to speak up when she found herself uncomfortable. Usually.

Shortly after Arch had left for their meeting, Charlotte tidied around. She was left to clean up the discarded rompers around the living room and as she repacked on of the many clothing store bags she had brought home, there was a knock at the front door. She opened it, expecting a politician to be making their rounds or a band group from the high school to be asking for donations. Instead, she found Lyrem, smiling back at her with his unique charm. He was a bit red in the face, possibly from spending too much time in the sun.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, already finding herself with a sickening feeling in her stomach from being near this unholy man.

“Looking for Arch, of course,” he replied, “Are they around?”

Charlotte paused, looking for any sign that the man might be joking with her.

“No, Lyrem. They left a half hour ago to meet with you at Mystics,” She said unamused. “… Like you had asked them to.”

Lyrem lifted a hand to his mouth, realizing something.

“Oh dear. Oh dear…”

“What?” Charlotte asked, becoming impatient.

“Well, I had sent two messages,” Lyrem pulled out his phone, scrolling through their conversations. “One to say that there was a store meeting, and a second telling Arch that I would come by for a chat instead of-

Oh… It seems that I had forgotten to send it.”

Charlotte huffed, rolling her eyes at the old man. “Go find her then!”

“Them.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, them.” She corrected. “You know I’m getting a little tired of you demanding so much out of them. Who runs a store downtown past nine o’clock on a Sunday evening, anyway?”

“Someone who is desperate to stay out of a church I suppose.” Lyrem looked up from his phone. “There, I sent them a message to come back.”

“What? Why? Go out and meet them. They’re probably downtown already!” Speaking sense to this old man was becoming more than a chore.

“I would but to walk that far is not something I can manage anymore. Old bones, you know,” He smiled kindly at Charlotte. “Would you mind if I came in for a sit down?”

Sit in your car, she thought.

He was an old-fashioned sort, obviously craving human connection in the oddest of ways. What Arch saw in him as any sort of mentor, she would never understand. Reluctantly, she nodded, leading him through Arch’s sprawling makeshift bedroom and into the small kitchen where sunlight was still peeking through the trees by the window.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of water would be lovely.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but smile patronizingly as she handed his glass to him. Tap water. He set it down on the table in front of him.

“Would you like to hear a story while we wait for Arch to arrive?”

Charlotte leaned against the refrigerator with arms folded. She cocked her head at him. She really didn’t care what he had to say or what stories he wanted to tell.

“Sure,” she smiled.

“Ah, wonderful. I love telling this one.

The year was nineteen seventy-two. I had been travelling Europe for several weeks, however, for what particular reason I ventured out there for, I can no longer recall.” He cleared his throat, sipping the water from the glass on the table, taking his time. “I came upon a lovely town on the Grecian coastline. I had found a little place to stay there and enjoyed my time immensely with the local people. I stayed with a family who offered me a small room of their house for only a few pennies a night, and word eventually got around that I was looking for work in the area, seeing as I was too content living there to leave anytime soon.

It was one cloudy morning when a man woke me from a slumber; said that he had a job for me and would pay me quite well if I dared accomplish the task for him. He was in the delivery trade, you see; he would connect like-minded collectors and clients and deliver the items as a third-party investor that would keep both sides happy.”

Charlotte had already lost all interest in the story, resorting to rub the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes.

“The package he had for me to deliver was none other than a statue of Perseus to be signed to a buyer on a remote island several knots out from shore. It was odd to me that he would not do the deed himself since it seemed simple enough, but alas I was not willing to miss my chance to collect on a decent paycheque.

Out on the water, I followed his map. I took the necessary precautions, found my bearings, and yet being out there for an entire day I still could not find the island that this man had spoken of. It was marked clearly on his papers for me, and so I sailed throughout the sea until dusk, searching for it. In the evening of that fateful night, unwilling to turn back as I was quite stubborn; I had encountered a freak cyclone on the water. A fearsome storm that roiled in the abyss of the deepest parts of the sea. The wind and the rain blew so hard into the boat that it felt like I was being shot with thousands of miniscule ice pellets. I couldn’t see a damned thing out there. Water tornadoes threatened to capsize the boat more than once and left me to drown in the torrential depths of the Mediterranean.

Then, I awoke, washed ashore the next morning. The man who had hired me to take the statue out stood over me as I opened my eyes on the rocks. I didn’t feel as though it was something I should have survived, and yet I did. Content with the job I had done for him he presented me with a large envelope containing over six hundred Drachma, and then he simply went on his way. At the time, it was a tremendous amount of money to me. If I could go back now, I think I would have demanded more for the risk it took to my life.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, thankful that the story had come to its end. But then she couldn’t help but wonder aloud.

“What happened to the statue?”

He lifted his gaze to her. “Hm. What about the statue, dear?” He asked.

“Did it break? Did you lose it, and the boat in the storm?”

He shook his head. “Oh no, no. The statue was delivered.”

“You said you washed ashore after the storm”-

“I had done what he had asked of me,” Lyrem explained, drinking more of the water down. “I came to accept that the statue was more valuable in the bottom of the sea, than on the surface of Earth. That must have been what the man also thought. That is what I believe of many things these days as well. Some things, some people, just belong under the ground.”

Charlotte side-eyed him.

“Right,” she said, checking the time on the oven. It had only been fifteen minutes.

Lyrem checked his pocket watch. It was hidden away beneath his jacket, and he clicked it open checking it briefly before folding it away again. He made a humming sound. If Charlotte was familiar with the Spanish Guitar, she might have recognized the tune as Sevilla- Suite Espanola No. 3 as played by his favoured guitarist, Andrs Segov-

“Where are the hell are they?” Charlotte walked across the small house, and peered out the front door, worriedly. “I don’t see her-them coming up the walk. They should be back by now.”

“I’m sure they are being well taken care of,” Lyrem appeared behind her, causing her to jump in place and flip around.

“But, I, myself, seem to also be running out of time.” Lyrem continued hauntingly, looking past the woman, over her shoulder.

“Did you have something you needed to get back to?” Charlotte inquired. “I’m sure Arch can reschedule a meeting with you.”

“Fortunately,” he sniffed, addressing her once again. “that won’t be necessary. I am exactly where I need to be at this moment.”

With lowering brows, Charlotte backed up, keeping her hand on the doorknob.

“What is wrong, Charlotte?” Lyrem tilted his head, in feigned concern.

She couldn’t stop staring at him, frozen in place- wondering if she was being silly, acting crazy, or just reading all correct the signs that told her to run.

She shook her head, heart pounding. He was merely standing there. Maybe a bit close for comfort, but he wasn’t threatening her. Not outright.

“I- I don’t know…” She answered hesitantly. “But… I don’t think I want you anywhere near me… or my child.”

“Arch will always be safe with me. Of that, I can assure you. As for you, though,” Lyrem admitted, caringly. “You won’t have to worry about me being anywhere near you, at all, ever again.”

Charlotte was backed against the door now, turning the knob to the front door, intent on running out.

“I mean it, Charlotte. You are far too disrespectful to be in my company. And I feel bad for Arch. How they put up with you for so long... well, that requires a modicum of patience that I have never once possessed. Never fear, my dear Charlotte. I am doing this for their sake. It really is better this way.” he explained. “That is why I plan to…”

“’Plan to’ what?” Charlotte asked, fear rising in the tremors of her voice.

“Well, I suppose you’ll see when you open the door,” he rushed his words, ushering her to leave as she wished to do.

Charlotte bolted around. The front door opened to a pool of darkness. There was no light, no sound, no nothing. She had yet to step forward. She didn’t say a word and only stared into the beckoning void

“Just remember to breathe,” she was advised in a whisper from behind.

Then, Lyrem pressed a firm hand against her back. Into the darkness Charlotte was shoved forward, until she was utterly gone- swallowed up into the shadows where the light would never reach her.

Lyrem closed the front door. The light from outside returned as he opened it again- the Labyrinth now missing. Cars drove on past, children rode their bikes, chickadees and jays cheeped in the bushes, and the breezes signaled early summer as the aspens trembled along the boulevard. It was the sound of life.

Still, there was no Arch to be found. Not down the street.

Not yet.

A soft purr sounded by Lyrem’s feet, then he felt the warmth of a cat curling around his ankles. He looked down, and picked Maleficent up to hold her close until she was just beneath his chin. Her long gray fur tickled the side of his face.

“Do you want to be a part of my family too?” He asked, looking down at her sweetly. Maleficent purred on, as Lyrem’s index finger stroked the side of her cheek firmly. “I’m sure we can make room for you.”

#whump #mystics #Mystics by Alpaca #Lyrem #Arch #Alpaca OCs #writing blog #whump writing #creative writing #writing #whumpblr #writeblr #poor charlotte #just when everything seemed to be happy again #she gets tossed to the Labyrinth

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 7

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror

CW: leg injury, knife whump,

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CHAPTER SEVEN: THE GODS OF JUST AND UNJUST MEN

The man keeled over just as the darkness had engulfed him and the sensation of ground had returned beneath his feet. Ragged and shaking, he cried out in agony, clutching his right leg that poured deep crimson blood staining his fingers. A soft blue light emanated from a tunnel above his head, showering him in a beckoning glow.

Beside him, a woman formed from the drifting darkness of the abyss. Her black hair was pulled off to one side in multitudes of smooth braids that reached her hips. She knelt down in her simple white linen gown, and touched the man on the shoulder. He stared up at her, his face soaked with more tears than rain or sweat.

“Th-They don’t… They don’t remember me,” he stammered shakily.

The Goddess hushed him softly, and brought her hand down to the knife handle. She met his gaze, and searched his green eyes. He became lost in her mesmerizing essence and in one swift motion, she pulled the knife out of his thigh.

He launched onto his back, roiling in the unfathomable release of pressure in his leg. He was screaming, but the void consumed his cries until the very end.

“I gather you were unable to kill him?”

She had waited for him to stop screaming before tossing the knife down in a clatter by his head.

The man still laid on his back, caring not for the wound that was bleeding out with fearsome speed. His lower lip quivered and he closed his eyes.

“No,” he answered through gritted teeth. “He… He was in a meeting.”

The woman breathed out the last of her hope and stood over him, shaking her head.

“We don’t like excuses,” she expressed, circling him. “Lyrem is only a man, and Hades wants results. If you don’t deliver, then you don’t get to stay on Earth. Running away with another human is not what we asked of you, was it?”

He shook his head, wiping a hand over his face like he was shielding himself from the rays of her shame.

“Next time,” he said. Forcing himself to sit up, he looked at her squarely, and turned his face to stone to address the Goddess as she ought to be. “I’ll get him next time. Persephone, please send me back- I”-

“No.”

He forced on, “I’ll get him this time, I swear”-

“Ar”-

“SEND ME BACK!”

This time, his voice carried farther through the void and then it echoed back to them. He lowered his voice reactively, sensing that he had done something severely improper.

“Please… Send me back.”

Seeing his emotionally fragile form was endearing as well as tremendously unsettling. Persephone lowered herself to him as he laid there, barely supported by his one elbow. Huffing, she laid a hand against his leg. He stared into her perfectly dark eyes, trusting her once more with great effort.

“I can heal you partially,” she offered, “And with a bit of time, I’ll be able to send you back.”

“Don’t bother healing me if you can send me back now.” He argued, “Lyrem has Arch”-

“If I don’t heal you, you’ll bleed out and return here within minutes. And you will be of no use to us then. You’re a mortal, remember; dancing between worlds of life and death.” Persephone explained. Gently, she cupped his cheek with a soft, sympathetic hand. “The rules were never written for someone like you.”

He tore himself away from her grip, and gulped down the last option that he was given. He took some time, considering her words with the reverence that one would give to a wise crone.

“I don’t know how long they… Fine,” he finally agreed.

Arguing with Gods and Goddesses alike wasn’t a normal habit for him- but for now, he would take what he could get.

“But I promise you… I promise Hades… I will kill Lyrem. I’ll do it, no matter what it takes. I’ll deliver his head to you on a fucking silver plate if it means I can go back to my old life.”

“Usually, I would advise against making promises you cannot keep,” the darkness called through, washing over him. It was the voice of the Underworld; of Hades Himself. He could not be witnessed in the dark abyss, where only the dead contained the sight to see the God in His glory. The voice carried on, shaking the injured mortal to his very core as it rumbled through him like a thunder.

“But with you… I am willing to believe that there may be some hope for us all.”

Persephone blinked slowly; the words of Hades filling her soul like she had taken a breath of fresh morning air. She looked down to the human, allowing a small smile to sneak its way onto her face, as his filled with cautious determination.

-------------------

“I think I like them.”

Lyrem looked up from his two fingers of scotch whisky and smiled to the man sitting across from him in a matching orange armchair by Mystics’ storefront window. The lights of evening downtown glowed inwards, as the two of them caught up with each other. Lyrem had finished his story of the strange and annoying priest at the hospital- and the terrible treatment that his charge, Arch was receiving there.

“I thought you might,” Lyrem replied. “I’ve primed Arch with talents they’ll be able to carry forward for years and years to come.”

“And yet, you still cannot trust them to keep their memories.”

There was a twinkle in the dark eyes of his guest. Everything from his squared off top hat to his jacket and to his bejeweled cane spoke of decadence and divine tailoring. He smoothed his long black beard down to its tip with long fingers, studying his friend and regular supplier with great interest as he took his time with his response.

“I cannot be certain that they will follow me.” Lyrem admitted, taking a sip from the glass tumbler that sat in his right hand. “They are so connected with people… with life… How can one twist a mind that pure?”

“All that purity, it ends somewhere. Everyone has their limits. Goodness leaves us all in the dust eventually and your successor cannot be someone with sentimental ties. One day, even you will have to leave them behind.” The man’s pinky finger danced in the air as he raised his own glass. “Since you know, the Devil always comes to collect on her debts.”

Lyrem grunted rudely at the reminder.

“Any word on when that might be?” Lyrem asked with deepening interest in his tired face, “I know you have an ear to the abyss, Paimon. You can tell me.”

Paimon merely chuckled, and clicked his fingers. The record player began to set itself up, playing the tunes that were primed to go. The album was something picked out by Arch from the record store across town several weeks ago after they had grown tired of John Denver.

I wouldn’t want to be a chimney sweep,

All black from head to foot,

From climbing in them chimneys,

And cleaning out that soot…

“Just enjoy life, Lyrem- while you still can,” Paimon winked as he finished his glass and clunked it down. “Throw out your stoic wisdom, already, and prepare your charge for when you’re finally dead. That’s my advice.”

Sensing that Paimon was on his way out, Lyrem stopped him.

“One more thing... I suspect that a particular captive of mine has found a way out of the Labyrinth in the back room. There are no… other doorways that you neglected to mention when I purchased it off of you, are there?”

“I am leasing it to you, Lyrem.” Paimon corrected him with a shake of his head in pity. “Like all rental properties, sometimes renovations are necessary.”

Lyrem scoffed at his flippant response. But before he could say anything else, the demon had vanished from his chair.

“At least give me a bloody notice first,” Lyrem muttered to himself before finishing his glass with a final swallow. Only the melody would keep him company now.

The honey from the bee,

The shellfish from the sea,

The earth, the wind, a girl,

Someone to share these things with-

Lyrem switched off the record abruptly and then picked up the empty glasses left on the corner table. Paimon’s words rang in his head as though they were warning him. He had been sensing for quite sometime that Hekate had grown impatient with his antics. He had been given many gifts from the underworld’s many inhabitants in his short time on Earth, and as a result owed many debts; some debts simply would not be repaid in the bones of ancient Mayan sacrifices- though sometimes they did make thoughtful gifts.

Demons and divine spirits, Gods and Goddesses alike, all had some opinion on Lyrem Nomadus. At one time or another he had procured an item or two for almost all of them- whether it was something as frivolous as an original Da Vinci sketch or as dark as a human heart for ritual consumption. Whether they had a fair opinion of the man, or a sour one, they would all agree that for a human, he was really rather quite useful and would go the extra mile to make them happy as long as he was paid in full with their favors.

Lyrem was well aware that those days of retrieval and dealing were long past him now. His age was beginning to show in all the worst ways. Sentimentality becoming the latest of wrinkles in his pallid complexion. The first wrinkle of which was when he had removed memories from Maria, his one and only love, so that she could be happy living out the rest of her life with a normal human. Meeting Arch, and the strong connection that they had grown, was just another one of the latest displays of his sentimental nature. The visit from his old friend this night yet again, a reminder that his good work would soon be coming to an end.

Lyrem had to be sure that Arch was prepared by any means necessary. This meant there could not be room for distractions. There was no room for failure. If Arch was unable to make use of the gift they were given, then they would die before they even started.

“What now?” Paimon returned, sensing Lyrem call for him in short thoughts. The demon stood, leaning against his cane by the door, regarding Lyrem with a tired interest.

“I have an idea,” Lyrem postulated, placing the tumblers on the counter as he paced the store’s sale floor. “-but I will need your help to locate a shape-shifter.”

Paimon perked his head higher, as Lyrem continued hesitantly.

“One, preferably, that is extraordinarily good at acting.”

Paimon’s lips curled as his eyes danced with amusement, and nodded.

“I’m always willing to help out an old friend,” he smiled.

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