#i need to do some soul searching elsewhere before i can come back and learn to love that particular series again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Text

A/N: This was an ask from I believe @creatingstuffinpeace but I accidentally deleted the ask right as I was about to post it. I am going to probably make this into a little series with at least one more part because I have an idea, it's just a matter of when I have time to write it out :)

***

Thunder rumbled outside.

You moved around the bookshop, tidying things up.

“But momma! What about Gunnar?” Your son, Cas, tugged at your skirt.

“He’s probably just outback chasing a cat, love.” You brushed your fingers over his hair momentarily before picking up a small stack of books. “Will you help me with putting these back, Cas?”

He took two of the books from you and began to follow you to the other side of the little store.

“But momma! It’s about to storm! Gunnar doesn’t like storms!”

“Cas–,”

“What if he’s hurt? What if someone’s taken him or something’s happened to him? What if he’s lost!” The more the six-year-old thought about all the things that could have happened to his pup, the more frantic he became.

“Casimir.” You placed the books down on a table and knelt down to his level. You took the books from him and put them aside.

Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed at you. His bottom lip quivered.

You cupped his face and brushed your thumb over his cheek.

“I don’t want to take you out in the storm. But if you promise me to stay upstairs until I return, I will go look for Gunnar.”

“You will?”

You nodded.

“Okay.” He sniffled.

You wiped the tears away and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Let’s get these books put away. Then I’ll take you upstairs.”

As you stood up, Cas grabbed four of the books and tried to hurry towards the bookshelf they belonged on.

The front door creaked open and the bell above the door chimed, signaling someone was entering.

You glanced to your son once more before turning to greet the customer.

It was a tall figure with broad shoulders and a hood over his head. Something underneath his cloak moved and out poked Gunnar’s head.

“Gunnar!” Cas squealed in delight, running towards you.

The man put Gunnar down and the pup ran to meet Cas.

“I was just about to go searching for him.” You smiled at the stranger, taking little note of his vibrant golden eyes with catlike pupils.

“I found him clear on the other side of town.” His voice was deep but quiet. He gave a tight smile before turning to leave.

“Have you got a hunt to tend to at the moment, Master Witcher?” You asked, messing nervously with your hands. You hoped you weren’t crossing any boundaries by asking this.

“Not with the storm outside.”

“Would you want to stay for dinner? As a thank you for bringing my son’s dog back?”

The man hesitated to answer.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“It wouldn’t be imposing if I invited you.” You smiled just a little. “The rain seems to be coming down awfully heavy out there. And we’d like the company, wouldn’t we, Cas?”

Cas held Gunnar in his lap but was watching the witcher curiously.

“Yeah.” He answered quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Your manners, son.” You lightly chided. The witcher turned back to you.

“Yes.” Your son repeated, this time lifting his head a bit.

“You don’t have to do this, m’lady.” The witcher insisted, his voice quiet and a bit on edge.

You could see with the way the poor lighting caught his face that there was something…. unnatural about his features.

“If you feel uncomfortable with the matter, my apologies.” You murmured softly, smiling. “I just wanted to thank you for your kindness. Not many people would bring the dog back, especially not in such weather.”

The man said nothing.

“Please stay, s-sir.” Cas spoke from behind you, his voice timid. “You brought-brought Gunnar back h-home. Let-Let us thank you.”

The witcher looked past you to your son briefly, before nodding his head.

“I am Y/N. This is my son Casimir.”

“Eskel.”

***

You took Eskel upstairs to your home located above the bookstore.

As you prepared dinner, you made conversation with the witcher. He was very polite and well-spoken, though he remained silent unless you asked him a question.

Your son sat by the hearth, watching Gunnar as he ate his dinner. You happened to be looking at your son when he looked into the kitchen. His eyes were focused on Eskel.

The witcher’s eyes flickered over to Cas, shifting ever so slightly in his seat. Was your son making him uncomfortable?

You moved around the table to place a mug of tea in front of the witcher. Golden eyes found you once more, taking in your every move. He turned his head just slightly away from you as if he was trying to keep his right side from you. But you had already seen the scars, the mangled lines that pulled at his face.

“You’ll have to forgive Casimir.” You lowered your voice so that only Eskel could hear you. “He’s young and just a curious boy. He means no harm, I promise you.”

Eskel’s brows furrowed together just slightly. Had he given you the illusion that something was wrong?

“Cas?” You looked up, smiling as your eyes landed on your boy. He perked up and raised his head. “Is everything alright, love?”

“Yes…. Can I get the book about daddy?”

“Of course, love.”

Cas shot up to his feet and ran to his room. Without finishing all of his food, Gunnar followed the boy.

“Your boy did nothing wrong.” Eskel spoke as you moved away from him. His eyes followed you. “There’s no need for any apologies.”

“But I know how cruel children can be, Master Eskel.” You focused on the pot of soup over the fire, stirring the contents steadily. “They are mean and cold because they are raised to be that way by their parents. They see it in the ones they look up to. They see fathers calling women in the streets filthy slurs and mothers degrading anyone who looks different from them or from their idea of what is normal and what is right….”

You trailed off, only realizing with the silence that followed that you had started to ramble.

You turned your head to Eskel, completely embarrassed that you had let yourself start down that path.

“I’m so sorry, Master Eskel. I didn’t mean to lecture you on my views of society.”

“Don’t apologize.” He shook his head, holding a hand up just slightly. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “What you said is true. Children learn from their parents.”

You nodded, turning to check the bread in the oven.

“Momma, here!” Cas ran into the kitchen. He held a thin book high above his head. Gunnar was on his heels, happily wagging his tail.

“Set the book down on the table, Cas.”

Cas chose to stand at the table directly to Eskel’s right. He placed the book down on the wood and opened it up.

“Tell Master Eskel what the book is about, Casimir.” You took the bread out of the stone oven and placed it on the counter top.

Cas turned his head to look at Eskel but only for a split second. He didn’t want to stare for too long. Staring was rude and Casimir was better than that.

“It’s about the tales of a witcher!”

Eskel read some of the words over Cas’s shoulder, but the six year old seemed to just want to flip through the book.

“Momma?”

“Yes, my love?”

“May I ask Master Eskel a question?”

“He’s right beside you, Casimir. Go right ahead.” You paused what you were doing, placing one hand on your hip as you watched your son.

“Master Eskel?” Cas closed his book and rubbed his fingers over the wording on the front cover.

“Yes?” Eskel looked down at him.

“How many witchers do you know?”

“I suppose a handful. There aren’t too many of us left.”

Cas nodded his head. A furrow formed between his brows. You could tell he was deep in thought.

“Casimir? What else would you like to ask Master Eskel?” You moved towards the table, kneeling down so that you were at your son’s level.

“Do you think he knows the one who knew daddy? The one who gave me this?” Cas tapped on the book.

“Oh, love.” You gave him a sad little smile, brushing your fingers over his hair. “The one who gave you that wasn’t a witcher. It was a man who travels with a witcher. A Witcher’s barker or bard. I don’t think Master Eskel knows him. That happened so far away.”

Cas nodded understandingly.

“May I ask who it was?” Eskel asked almost hesitantly.

Your eyes met his. You weren’t sure if you wanted to keep talking about the matter knowing that it would upset Cas, but Eskel was just curious.

“It happened when we lived in Cintra years ago. The witcher’s name was Geralt.” You explained.

“And we had to move far, far away from home.” Cas nodded his head, taking a deep breath. His voice was sad and made your heart break. “Now we live here.”

“This is home.” You leaned forward to kiss his head.

“I’m going to put my book back.”

You watched him leave the kitchen.

“I do know that witcher.” Eskel spoke. He didn’t want to say anything loud enough for Casimir to hear him. He wasn’t sure if you wanted your son to hear what he was saying. “He’s my brother.”

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out at first. You weren’t sure what to say. You were surprised. What was the chance that this witcher sitting here at the table knew your dear friend Geralt?

You pulled out the chair directly across from him and sat down. Your eyes fell to the wedding band on your left hand.

“Geralt was great friends with my husband. Geralt saved him on more than one occasion.” A fond smile came to your lips at the memories. “My husband, rest his soul, could never stay out of trouble in his youth.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Your eyes flickered up to Eskel, offering him a smile.

“Do you know Geralt’s bard, Jaskier? He wrote stories of Geralt and my husband’s journeys together for our son and had a book created so that Cas would have a book to always remember him by. He clings to it.”

“That was very thoughtful of Jaskier.”

“It was. Brought me to tears for nearly a month afterwards.”

Eskel watched as you tapped your fingers absentmindedly against the table. Your eyes were stuck on the hallway but you weren’t watching the hallway. Your mind was elsewhere. You were absent. He knew that look. The look of someone who had lost someone, a part of them.

Silently, the witcher wondered how long ago your husband had passed. Time never made things better, but it did help to numb the ache of a loss. He had plenty of experience with time and with loss.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Geralt?”

You blinked and straightened your posture, no longer lost in your mind. The sound of Cas coming back to the kitchen made you remember what was happening, where you were, and what you were supposed to be doing.

You stood to your feet and began to finish the last bits of dinner.

“Um, oh…. I’m not sure…. He, um, I think he came to visit just after….” You trailed off, looking at your son then at Eskel. “Just after it happened.”

Eskel nodded understandingly.

Casimir returned to his seat directly next to Eskel.

“Alright, gentleman. Thank you for your patience tonight.” You placed two bowls down in front of them then turned to get yours.

“Thank you for joining us, Master Eskel.” Cas picked up his spoon and began to eat.

“Thank you for having me.” Eskel smiled, golden eyes flickering over to you.

You met his gaze. Your eyes lingered on him for a few heartbeats before finding your soup.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @natkowaa @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @genderfluid-ho @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @Awkward-Turtles-World @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @thefirelordm @monkeymo @krenee1drful @nympha-door-a @unadulteratedtreecrusade @Aquarius-pisces-rose @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @fl0ating @sometimesiwrite @you-fxcking-wish-bish @thanks-bruh-for-nothing @maan2442 @thegaydeath @creatingstuffinpeace @wellthisstinks @andyrazzledazzle @ameliasmistake @winterwolf @caraqas @bluscryn @thefirelordm @y-napotat @henrycavillbesty @ta-ka-shi-ma @sulkyshengshou @spaced-out-state @thecollection @mayday1284 @babietrain @wandering-poetess @redneckstrash

If your name is in italics, it wouldn't let me tag you :(

#eskel x reader #eskel the witcher #the witcher #eksel #the wild hunt #eskel ask

113 notes · View notes

huihuiheart · 3 years

Text

Limit Break - Wonwoo

Navigation

Seventeen Masterlist

Pairing: Wonwoo x Female Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary: Part 2 of Limitless - Your relationship with Wonwoo has gotten more complicated since that fateful night, and you’re not sure how long your heart can take this for.

Warnings: Friends with benefits, mutual pining, things get muddied, cursing, emotional sex, crying during sex, dom/sub themes, both sides of dom Wonwoo, alcohol, drinking, bars, oral (f! recieving), protected sex.

Word Count: 2,137

Panting you watch with hooded eyes licking your lips, “Can’t you just fuck me now...or are you afraid you’ll cum before you can get two out of me?”

Wonwoo chuckles a little knowing your teasing is playful, before returning it as he crawls over your form leaving a small peck to your lips nipping at the bottom with a low growl.

“Oh, love....we’re just getting started.”

Sitting at the bar your focus was on the drink before you, not able to will yourself to look at the crowd again and see Wonwoo dancing with that other woman all over him. Junhui came up beside you and leaned against the bar.

“You don’t have to be here, you know. You don’t have to let him do this to you or be subjected to seeing it. Just say the word and I’ll take you home, nothing else needs to be said.” He offers seeing how much this seemed to weigh on you.

You shake your head softly, “It’s fine, I’m the one who agreed to the arrangement anyways...I knew it might mean seeing him with other women. I just had hope...but now I need to face reality.”

Junhui looks at you brows furrowed, “I still don’t know why you two agreed to that...you both like each other...why do a friends with benefits thing anyways. It’s not like you’ll stop being friends if you get together. You two are too close for that.”

You shrug slightly, “We have our reasons...it just apparently sucks more than I expected.”

Junhui hums, downing his drink before offering you his hand, “Come on.”

You look at him confused, “Jun, I said I was staying here. I’ll be fine, seriously.”

Junhui scoffs rolling his eyes at you, “First off, I know you aren’t fine. Secondly, we aren’t leaving. We’re going to remind Wonwoo that if he’s free to be with other people, so are you. We’ll see if he likes feeling the same way he makes you feel when he does this.”

You’re a little uncertain as you take his hand, but you do it nonetheless looking between him and Wonwoo, “And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he just likes fucking me?”

“Well then consider this your chance to find out which it is. If he gets jealous and irritated and acts up, you know it’s emotions. If not then it’s just a fuck to him...though I doubt that’ll be the case.” Junhui insists, pulling you out to the dance floor.

You couldn’t deny the logic to his words, or the curiosity it peaked in you. Sure, you weren’t over the feelings induced by seeing Wonwoo dance with another woman, but this could give you some of the answers that you were seeking. You weren’t going to hold anything back, but at the same time, you decided to ease into what you did while dancing with Junhui...on the off chance that Wonwoo did break you wanted to know just what it was that made him do that.

It was only a matter of seconds before Wonwoo's eyes found yours, his gaze hardening as he watched you grind against Jun. Locking onto where Junhui’s hands held your hips he swore he saw red, forgetting about the girl he had been dancing with and heading straight for the two of you.

“Come on Y/N. I think it’s time to leave.” Wonwoo tells you, holding his hand out to you glaring daggers in Jun’s direction.

You can’t help but roll your eyes as you place your hand in his, letting Wonwoo lead you out and to his car. His hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles whiten.

“What was that?” Wonwoo practically growls making your brows furrow.

“What do you mean? I was only dancing like you were.” You insist, shrugging softly and he scoffs.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about, hm? You were jealous so you decided to try and make me jealous too.” Wonwoo's eyes are focused on the road, but you could tell they were swirling with clouds of anger and lust.

You shrug instead of vocalizing a response, not caring if it only further fueled the fire burning in Wonwoo to not know what your response was. Letting it fester inside him through the whole drive, brewing a storm you'd face when reaching your apartment, yet that didn't matter at this moment. Not to you anyway.

Wonwoo pulls up to your place, getting out and heading towards your door, grabbing the spare key you'd hidden by it that he knew about. He lets himself in, leaving the door open for you as well, only to press you against it the second you close it. His body radiating heat as it presses against yours keeping you pinned in place, while his head falls to nip at your throat with a soft growl.

“If you wanted me to yourself tonight you could have just said so, but no...you had to get me all worked up like this didn’t you?” The way you mewl his name when his tongue flicks over the sensitive area where his teeth just nipped at you only encourages Wonwoo, “Don’t worry sweetheart you’ll learn just what happens when you make me jealous.”

He’s pulling back in a flurry of limbs, kisses, and clothing as he dragged you towards your bedroom. His patience wears thin due to the jealousy raging through his bones. So much more than he was expecting to feel seeing you dance with another man.

"Why would you go to him of all people when I was standing right there? you couldn't just ask me for what you wanted? you had to go and find it from someone else?" Wonwoo growls, laying you down on the bed. Crawling over your frame his eyes have darkened more than you've ever seen, desiring to show you that he can do better to you than anyone else could. That he was the only man you'd ever need. Something that he didn't think he should be feeling considering the arrangement between you two and yet here he was unable to do anything other than to have an almost primal urge to prove this to you.

His lips captured yours before trailing lower until he rested between your legs, breath fanning hotly against your core as his eyes focused on your face. His tongue flicking over your clit and taking your breath away. Your head falling back, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure engulfs your senses. His mouth is always skilled at making you forget about anything else and escape to a world where it’s only the two of you. His lips gentle as they kiss over your folds, it is the only chance you’re going to get to catch your breath before he becomes impatient again. His tongue curls into you searching for as much of your taste as he can get. That same desire also encourages him to push you towards your orgasm, eager for anything and everything he can get from you. It came naturally to him too, for the both of you. You two clicked together, chemistry and passion blooming into a perfect and unmatched mix and yet you both still denied that it was the case. Even when it was as clear as day to anyone.

Wonwoo effectively shutting those thoughts out for you by bringing your orgasm crashing over you. Drowning you in pleasure despite the way he tries to ride you through it all, only pulling away after and giving you a moment as you pant for air and attempt to recover. Going to retrieve a condom and returning to gently rub his hands over your thighs to calm you down further. Only the heated feeling of his large hands on your skin has the opposite effect, bringing up the emotions he had so easily pushed away before. Now though those feelings were too much and before you could register what was happening your cheeks were already stained with tears. Wonwoo’s eyes widen when he sees the tears, not knowing how to react to seeing you crying right now.

“Y/N? What is it? What’s wrong? Did I do something that hurt you?” Wonwoo’s thumbs brush away the tears on your cheeks, gently cradling your face in his palms. His eyes only leave your face long enough to search for any sign of what might be wrong.

“Woo...I...I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Your emotions run amuck through you and screw with your voice. An anxious bout of hiccups setting in as you choke out the words.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, “Okay. But just tell me why, please? What’s wrong? I don’t want to upset you anymore. I...I don’t want you to hate me or anything.”

“That’s just it Wonwoo...I can’t hate you. Even when you piss me the fuck off...even when I’m jealous of the fact that you’re going to other women. I just can’t fucking hate you!” You sniffle anger weaving in amidst the heartbreak, “ I’m in love with you Wonwoo. God, I love you so fucking much that even the thought of you with someone else makes my heart shatter...and yet I’ve had to watch that and act like I’ve been fine for months while you’re carrying on cluelessly...I can’t do it anymore though...if it happens one more time I don’t think I’ll be able to pick myself back up from it again.”

Wonwoo’s palms are firm as they continue to hold your face, despite the fear he had of your fragile state. He wanted to be sure you were looking at his face when he spoke though. Wanted to open the door to his soul for you. So that you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing after what he had to say.

“Then I won’t let it happen again.” Wonwoo promises, leaning down momentarily to let his lips kiss away your tears, “I’ve been suffering the same way...but had I know that you were in this state too I never would have let you suffer like this....Y/N I’m in love with you too...and I’m not just saying that to spare you from heartbreak. I’m saying that because tonight when I saw you with Jun it felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Like my soul was been stripped from my body as I watched you with him...with someone besides me...I thought I had no right to say anything at the time though because I thought I was the only one like this...the only one trying to project my feelings for you elsewhere so I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of you leaving without being mine again.”

Your tears slowed as you listened to what Wonwoo had to say. It wasn’t able to heal your wounded heart so easily, but it was able to bring you some semblance of calm at this moment.

“Then what does that mean for us Wonwoo?” You question quietly, almost afraid to ask, still fearfully of what the outcome of all this might be.

“That means I want us to be more than friends with benefits. That means I want to date you Y/N. I want you to be the only one for me and for me to be the only one for you. Can we do that...or is it too late now?” He tries not to put you on the spot, however, your feelings are too important for him not to ask. He wants you to make the final decision, to be sure that whatever you want happens. He’s broken you too much at the point to be able to bear if he did it again, even if he hadn’t known before.

“It’s not too late Wonwoo...not yet.” You admit reaching up to cup his cheeks and bring him into a kiss. One with emotions long overdue to be revealed, admitting to each other what even words could not. Speaking a language that only the two of you could hear at this moment.

Wonwoo only pulls away when he feels you working to undo his pants, his hands moving yours away gently, “I don’t think we should fuck tonight Y/N, not with the emotions right now.”

“Who said anything about fucking? No...I want you to make love to me Wonwoo...I want us to prove to each other that we’re really all the other person needs. Can we do that?” Your question is soft-spoken as you slowly reach out to work on the buttons of his shirt this time, knowing that might be at a better pace right now.

Wonwoo sucks in a break, shuddering at the thought as he helps you with his clothes until like you, he’s left in nothing. Reaching to grab the condom again.

“That we can do.”

#seventeen imagine #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo smut #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo x reader

162 notes · View notes

lostsoulaltair · 3 years

Text

OnS Theories (19S). Fourth Theory - Resurrection

Hello everyone, I hope you’re doing well! Just 2 weeks left before new chapter arrives and of course, as something I tend to do, let’s talk about something that has been on the mind of the readers, therefore, let’s begin!

P.S: Theories are held within a neutral view and ships are excluded

One of the things the fandom has wondered constantly, what’s the benefit of having Mika within a cursed gear?

Which is heavily pointed by Shiho Kimizuki:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 99

But then, why is it necessary that Guren aims to take Mika with Yu? Is it because he intends to use Mika for selfish goals alone?

In fact, as I’ve been stating before, Guren’s end goal is to stop the First Progenitor, and this is due to the fact that the First Progenitor does not seek to save anyone in particular, he isn’t focused on protecting someone out of warmness but rather he aims to use Mika for a more twisted objective which was stated by Krul as a hint before she was silenced:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 98

But returning to the topic, why is Mikaela needed to be alongside Yu as Yu’s demon?

Let’s consider first the main factor of Guren’s end goal, such goal is the resurrection of humanity.

But how can that be possible when the Seraph of the End was itself a forbidden experiment and only few persons were able to be resurrected?

The reason why the plan is different compared to the events with the Catastrophe have a lot to do with Yu. If many might recall, Yu’s seraph form was actually managed to control, Yu was able to use his powers at will without losing control thanks to his cursed gear along the bond that existed before Asuramaru got his memories back.

But the main question is, why is Mika essential for such plan of the resurrection? Is there an answer to that?

Surprisingly there is.

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 64

If many might recall, Rigr Stafford did not only experiment on Yuichiro Hyakuya but he did so as well with Mikaela Hyakuya; he was under his care since he became his “Michaela”.

Rigr found Mika thanks to the ties of his parents; his mother was invested wiht the Hyakuya Sect to the point she reached her demise; she threw Mika out of the window of a moving car because he was special; and of course, after such event, Rigr found him and took notice that Mika was indeed a boy that had something he was searching for so long.

Of course, after the events of the Catastrophe, Mika and the orphanage kids were taken to the vampire capital on which they would reside for few years until they found a way to escape, but instead of touching such events, let’s go between that time, on which Mika and his family were learning the ways to survive within the vampire Capital, what do I mean?

Within the time the kids resided, specially taking aspects of the Story of Vampire Mikaela LN, there was a part of the LN which was focused on Mikaela. Mika started giving his blood to a vampire noble, of course, such noble was Ferid Bathory no less.

But, when it was his first time in order to gather food and supplyes for the other kids, Ferid of course drank blood from him directly, but, what does this have to do with the theory title?

After Ferid bit him, Mika started to release some tears, those tears weren’t of pain but rather frustration and agony, due to having done something shameful, something that wasn’t even thinkable for other humans.

But the question remains, what does this have to do with the sole plan of resurrecting humanity?

After Mikaela’s tear fell down on an orange small bud, said bud started to bloom into a flower.

It is well known that plants take their time to grow and bloom, hence why it is always recommended to water them and give them sunlight so they can display their unique beauty but, with Mika’s case, the bud bloomed into a flower instantly after his tears fell down directly to it, the small bud didn’t require sunlight in order to bloom because they were literally underground, where the sun wouldn’t hit directly at them since it was a place on which vampires resided.

Retaking the current events of the story

It’s true the outcome of them wasn’t the best for many readers, it is sadly to say that if the First Progenitor wasn’t held down for the time being, he would have gone elsewhere to track down Mikaela, and the proof to it was when Rigr stated the next thing:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 79

Rigr’s goal wasn’t to have the First finding Mikaela anytime soon, but of course, Guren, Mahiru, Krul and Ferid were very aware that Rigr’s plan by himself would fail, hence why the direction of the story has taken place to the current time.

Nevertheless, retaking once again the theory, what does this mean after all?

It means that Mika’s special trait is to bring life back. But if he was that special, was there a need to turn him into what he currently is?

The issue comes with the fact that, if Mika had gone with the humans without any interference, the First Progenitor would have sent Tenri to make use of him instead, of course, this is an hypothetical scenario of what could have happened if Ferid, Krul and Guren never interfered.

As for his demon transformation, it was bound to happen either by Guren or the First’s hands.

If Guren never interfered with the First, the First would have decided to attack Mika as soon as he spotted him alone, he’d have made the impossible to make him turn into a demon in a rather least joyful way in order to get his soul for his own purposes.

As for Guren’s goal, it can be concluded that Mika and Yu are the keys to restore the World to how it was before the Catastrophe, restoring the lives of many innocents that suffered the controlling fate of the First.

What do you think dear readers?

Let me know!

50 notes · View notes

theharellan · 3 years

Text

Written for Stories of Thedas Volume II. Pairing: Solas & Cole (platonic) Prompt: Library

Masks upon masks. The Winter Palace is strange to Cole, who attends at the Inquisitor's bidding and finds himself at a loss for how to help. Solas comes upon him with ideas for how to cope with the deadly Game.

Read on AO3.

Couples spin on the dance floor, turning and turning, going nowhere and everywhere at once. Their heads fill with daydreams, one gazes into her partner’s eyes through their masks, imagining the hidden corners they could lose themselves in. Another, all he sees is the faint outline of a knife in his companion’s skirts, so all-consuming he almost forgets the steps. A third, their eyes bore holes into the other’s heads, hate springs from love eternal. His eyes dart from one couple to the next, glimpses into minds fraught with thoughts of a Game no one ever really wins.

He breathes in and feels the air catch in his throat. Honeyed words mask the taste of poison, cold compassion, they understand only so they can hurt. It isn’t right, it isn’t fair, it isn’t–

In the blink of an eye he’s in the library, surrounded by pages that whisper the words of yesterday. Not so sharp against his skin. Below, a dead man in the shape of a Warden pretends to stare at a plaque, praying no one will look at him twice, fearing they might see his valourous wings are clipped. It’s still a hurt, a tangle, but he’s trying to help. Cruelty does not become him. He lets out a breath he forgot he was holding, hands coming together to pull at his sleeves.

Oh.

He had forgotten about the uniform. The fabric doesn’t come away at his touch, no matter how hard he tugs.

And he misses his hat.

Cole wonders how long he will wait here, alone with his panic clawing at his throat. In the Spire he spent months isolated, forgotten by all save the one who no longer cares to know him. Suddenly the soft, inviting lights which illuminate the halls of the Winter Palace seem as cold as the dark cells they had kept Rhys in, clapped in irons for crimes Cole committed. Anxiety squeezes every inch of him. He counts the beats of the music that drifts from the distant dance hall, just to assure himself only minutes have passed since he came here.

A door opens behind him, and he nearly jumps into shadow, the Veil waiting to envelop him, drawing him from prying eyes, but a familiar face waits on the other side. “Solas!” he gasps, relieved and ashamed that he had doubted, but grateful most of all.

Solas shuts the door behind him, turning the handle so the latch doesn’t make a sound. “I thought I might find you here.”

That gives Cole pause. He hadn’t known he would find himself here, until it happened. “But I don’t read.” The books here are newer than those kept in the Pit, some hum with the occult, others recount poems about the shape of a woman’s hips, but he still doesn’t read. There isn’t a question in his tone, but Solas hears it, all the same.

“This place can be overwhelming for anyone, even without accounting for your abilities. Books carry meaning, but without eyes upon them those meanings are static. Far easier to take in,” he answers as he walks towards him, gait stiffer than usual. His feet had forgotten what it was like to wear shoes. Solas has been quiet that evening, quieter than usual, the stem of a glass glued between his fingers, bottomless. He lets his hat do his talking for him, the Drasca’s dissent lived on atop his head. He stops beside Cole, leaning upon the marble rail, gloved hands bearing weight. His eyes turn upon him, no brimmed hat to hide behind. “Are you all right?”

He pulls on his sleeves, this time he thinks he feels a thread come loose. “Yes... No? There are two faces for every person.” The Left Hand smiles and laughs, she comes alive, but inside it’s cold and cruel. The rose withers upon the vine. He finds the thread with his finger and pulls, but it doesn’t break. It unravels, further and further, if he keeps going his whole sleeve will be an unspooled mess on the floor. “I don’t know which to look at. I-I don’t know how to help.”

Solas reaches out, subduing his worrying hands with a single, steady touch. A gentle gesture, despite the blood which stains them. Sometimes they do not seem so different from his own, they remember the bodies because forgetting would be worse. Killer’s hands, but there is no deceit in their tenderness. Solas wraps the thread around his finger, string bright white against his brown glove, and he tugs. It snaps, suddenly brittle, and falls to the floor to be swept away by a servant who will never know they were here. A comforting hand is placed deliberately on his shoulder blade, and Cole stills. He inhales, eyes snapping from the abandoned thread to Solas. There is kindness in his eyes, quiet assurance. He has seen this all before and he will make it easier to bear. So many tricks just to make it through a day, an evening, an hour. “You will not find much compassion in these affairs, any help you offer will be perceived as duplicitous, a means to get what it is you desire.”

“Then I… shouldn’t help?”

He hesitates, delaying his answer with a moment’s deliberation. “The choice is ultimately yours, but their comfort should not come at the cost of your peace of mind.” His hand slowly falls from his back as Cole turns his advice around in his head. “While we are waiting for the Inquisitor to call upon us, rather than mend the missing pieces in strangers’ lives, perhaps I may help you.”

“Help me?” He searches Solas’ eyes for answers, compassion seeking solace in pride. They are quiet, revealing only as much as intended. Cole chips at the cracks in the rock and hopes for water to spring forth, but he guards his sorrows like a wolf guards her den.

“Would you care to learn how to dance?”

A dozen thoughts pile into the spirit’s head, most too quick to catch, but he grasps one by the tail. “Do spirits dance?”

Solas claims spirits are people, and each day that belief is realer in Cole’s own mind, reinforced by the Herald and Solas himself. He need not change to be loved, or understood, he need only be himself. But if he is a person, then he is not a person the way Varric is, or Cassandra, or even Solas. There’s a touch of sadness in the corner of his smile, as though he is sorry the question needs to be asked. “I suppose it falls to us to answer together,” he replies patiently with an offered palm.

Uncertain how it will help, but ready to trust that it can, he takes Solas’ hand.

“Listen closely,” he says, but he declines to speak again. Cole’s instruction takes a different turn, a manicured glimpse through a window into Solas’ soul.

“Delicate hand folded like a paper crane between my shoulders, her eyes shine like the gold she deals in when I take to the dance.” Josephine had poured so much into tonight, all her smiles and favours, anything that will see the Inquisition prevail. “She didn’t think you would be asked to dance, but she was afraid if you didn’t learn, someone would.”

“Her time was likely better spent elsewhere,” he agrees, “though nothing would have given me more pleasure tonight than refusing one of Celene’s court. Listen again, parse the thoughts which cloud the memory and see how we move.” Cole nods, and concentrates. He remembers the palm tucked in the valley between Solas’ shoulders, and he moves his there. His feet, too, he moves in line with his hips. It’s strange, focusing upon his own body and the space it takes up in the world. Lighter now that he has chosen compassion, but still very much real, empty only in the seconds the air rushes from the chambers of his lungs.

He feels eyes upon him, questioning, searching for confirmation before the music dares move them. “I’m ready.”

When Solas steps forward, Cole steps back, like they’re two puppets on the same musical string. He clips his strides, travelling farther faster than Solas can hope to without magic to carry him there. Awkward at first, but with each beat he feels him join with the dance that exists in his head. Old melodies, half-remembered, play in distant memories. Like the sky he knew it, once, but made himself forget. Dancing wasn’t always this way, was it?

Solas remembers. Feet too full of motion to keep his thoughts safe in his head, they spill onto the fabric of the world where Cole breathes them like his own. Memories of moving on a dancefloor to a familiar tune, swaying with the stars themselves, spinning until they parted from the earth. He swells with pride, a beast alive beneath his ribcage, it thrives and fights and inspires. When they dance the heavens and the earth move, and an empire holds its breath. It fears what dread the dawn will bring, but his People find freedom in the impromptu steps.

“What are you two doing here?” A voice snaps the string. Halamshiral looks different than it did heartbeats ago, all the magic hidden in dark corners (all the elves, too). When Cole turns to see the servant who disturbed them, he’s surprised to see a bare face behind her plain mask, and a second later cannot recall why.

With silver eyes she stares at him, unblinking. “She can see me.”

“A consequence of our dance, I believe.” Yes, he can feel it. Solas fades with each passing second, growing distant as his hand falls from his waist. “It will fade in a moment.” He speaks as though she is not there, but he’s waiting. It’s another dance, only it’s Cole’s turn to lead.

Cut loose, he turns his attention to the woman. Fear flows through her veins, the dagger beneath her sleeve is ready to open theirs. Beneath the steel, her heart wavers. Stranded between duty and love. “I’m warning you-”

“There’s still time,” he says. “She waits for you beside the fountain where you wished away Your Lady’s collection.” There were wiser things to do with gold, but oh how they’d laughed with every dream plunged into the water.

Cole steps forward and she braces, but not fast enough. “Forget.”

Time is unmade behind her eyes, and she slips the mask from her face to rub the last place she’d been kissed. Gone as quickly as she came, with new purpose in her step.

“It seems you found a way to help someone, after all,” Solas remarks after the library door has shut behind her. “You never fail to impress.”

Something in him shines brighter, bolstered by his pride. “Thank you.” He falters, looking down at his feet, curling his toes inside their boots. “I’d like to try another dance, if you think there’s time.”

A laugh coloured wine red parts Solas’ lips, punctuated by a snort that makes Blackwall down below look around for its source. “I believe there is time for one more,” he says, outstretched palm seeking Cole’s hand. “Since you have devised a way to put off intruders, I daresay we have all the time in the world.”

It isn’t a lie, but neither is it true. Like the golden caprice coins that shine beneath the lovers’ reunion, Solas’ words glow like wishes.

#dragon age #solas #cole dragon age #cole #storiesofthedas2 #storiesofthedas #a pain you can't heal ( cole )#( my writing )#wicked eyes & wicked hearts ( quests )#[ this was actually started like a year ago as a warm-up for adding cole to my multi so i figured i'd finally finish it... ]#[ pls dont make me repost this tumblr ]

29 notes · View notes

nikkywrites · 3 years

Text

Fool, King of Sea (Ocean's Heart Side Story)

Summary: Amphitrite has never seen a divine fool enough face constant rejection for a domain they do not seem to like. Poseidon is, though, the greatest fool she's ever met. And Calypso is a great friend, when she's not being irritating.

*****

One thing that is of short supply in the ocean is good fun.

It can be made, of course, games built around redirecting ships to wrong ports, seeing who can sneak unaided by divinity into captain's quarters, who can race from Crete to Corinth the quickest. Games that are not made for one.

Calypso is good fun when she wants to play, is a challenge Amphitrite loves to play with. They toss their wins back and forth, banter in barbs they only laugh at. Calypso is a great companion, when she is around.

But there are times when she is not.

Alone, Amphitrite gets bored all too quickly, aimlessly searching through the water. She'll rest with her creatures some days, care for them like the pets they all are, but some days she wants excitement and no one is around to deliver.

Then comes something rarer than excitement -- a divine looking to be king.

It is obvious at a glance that this man does not belong. He is tall with thin hips and too much rage boiling in his bones. He must be some sort of new, thinking he can demand ocean to let him rule. It chooses who it will.

Watching this godling try to force himself upon her home is amusing. It remains cold, rejecting and rejecting him. What a fool, to keep trying.

He slinks away eventually, face pinched and muscles coiled tight. There's a rage boiling in his blood, rage the water rejected without hesitation. Amphitrite laughs at his retreat. It is little wonder her domain does not want him. He is entirely too hot for the cold waters. He will boil her home to steam or it will shatter him.

Ah. Well, it was nice while it lasted. Divines did not handle rejection. He would not face the humiliation again, however amusing it would have been to watch. She feels Calypso's call below, from the deep that is more home to her than Amphitrite, the deep that even she finds too chilling. She watches the point of shore the young god had been standing on and turns to go find Calypso. The call is purposefully untraced and it is a call to find her before she rises to air.

The young god's defilement of her home slips from her mind.

-----

Calypso can look awfully disappointed when she wishes to, can arrange her features in a way that niggles even at her. There is something about the arch of her brow and the curve of her frown and the angle of her eyes that stabs at Amphitrite in a way it shouldn't. It is a look of too much divinity towards something that cannot bear it, but Amphitrite can bear Calypso's divinity just fine. It is a trick.

"What?" she asks eventually, a bite to her words that would make a mortal faint.

Calypso turns her gaze elsewhere, to the seaweed curled up beside them, curled above in a little bubble as the water outside churns them away somewhere else. She stares at the weaving. "Nothing," she says in a too-friendly, too-simple tone.

Amphitrite narrows her eyes. Calypso has her ways of haggling for everything she wishes, from whoever she wishes it from. She recalls the moment she'd learned how Calypso had earned her tentacle-swarmed form. Calypso has never hungered for something she did not get and that nettles at her.

It was not fair.

"Don't play your games with me," Amphitrite warns. "I do not hold patience for them today."

Calypso lifts a cool shoulder. The move is infuriating. "Alright."

The silence burns.

Nothing should be burning under the water, in the deep cold of the sea. There is not allowed any warmth. Certainly not heat.

Amphitrite's glare burns hotter. "You are playing," she says.

Calypso's gaze slides over. Her body language is all relaxation and distance. She is at ease but there is something in her expression, something churning in her mind. "How so?"

That was the question. Then, the answer comes.

"You are trying to nettle me," she says, feeling the answer is right but not knowing why. What reason could there be for Calypso to want her angry?

"Maybe you shouldn't be so easily nettled, then."

Amphitrite's lip curls at the accusation. "What ill is in you today?" she asks. "You're being sour."

Calypso seems to consider the words, rubbing her lips together, She shrugs. "I am not sure." Her eyes flick over nothing. "A passing mood, I think. I want to stir trouble but it's too dreary a day for mortals to be out."

She snorts delicately. "Right. Warning, next time. I warn you."

Calypso's smile looks empty. There is nothing wrong with its shape but it looks false. "Sure. Apologies for wounding your ego."

"As if."

The smile shifts, looks more real, more like a smile that belongs on Calypso's face. "You may barb me back," she says, "if that would ease the sting of your pride."

Remaining bits of Amphitrite's anger fall away. She laughs and Calypso joins in.

"Shall we travel for a mortal?" Amphitrite offers. She is all too aware of these moods of Calypso's, times where she is reaching for something that does not quite exist. She had murmured the word chaos once, describing it.

With all the things she represents, all she is and the price of it -- Amphitrite does not think it worth it. There is an emptiness to Calypso sometimes, like the bottomless abyss that leads to the Underworld, that only knows to soundlessly call. That wrongness. It must be her price, for being the face of too many things.

In her rare moments of softness, Amphitrite worries over how it will cause her trouble one day.

"No, this is fine."

Fine. Because nothing can please her now.

It's her curse. The burden of being all the ocean is.

Amphitrite is grateful that the burden is not hers. The deep is enough for her, the cold and the creatures. She could not imagine more.

The seaweed begins to part. They both gain a sense of being in a different section of ocean, placed anew by a combination of both their powers ordered to drift them away.

Amphitrite looks over at Calypso. Her eyes are terrifying, sometimes. They look as if they can see through all. Laying secrets to the sun.

"You should take a mortal," she suggests. "I know how highly you think of them, but having one is quite fun."

Calypso's eyes churn. She gazes out at the water. "Mortals bear much misfortune by our hands," she says. "I see no reason one needs to bear the misfortune of me."

Amphitrite sighs. "Ready, then?" One day, she would convince Calypso to get a mortal. She didn't understand Calypso's protection over them. She spoke for them when opportunity drifted by, but when she wears her other shape, she swallows them like a fish. No remorse. No guilt. No regret. How can she advocate for them so and have their blood dripping in her soul?

It was not right. Many things weren't with her. It was why she was so fun.

"Am I ever not?"

Amphitrite grins. "Go, then."

They race, power folded under their skin, to find the place they had started at.

-----

The god fool returns.

Amphitrite does not seek his appearance, but the backsplash of his untethered divinity beating against the water reaches her. She comes not from the boredom, this time, but the fun she knows will be there.

The god -- Poseidon, the ocean hisses at her as she travels, one of Cronus' rebelling children -- is just as entertaining as she remembers.

He thrusts his sad excuse of divinity over top the water, steps his foot into the splash of shore, growls his place like it is something he can demand. "I am Poseidon," he says, putting too much force in each syllable, "god of the sea."

Amphitrite's laugh is a soft thing her domain swallows. How foolish.

"I will," he speaks with bared teeth like a roaring beast, "be king of you."

Her laugh bursts. The waves splash with it.

Poseidon -- the fool king -- pulls his head back like he's insulted and a tantruming child. "I am son of Cronus and Rhea," he tells her, unknowing she is there. "You will obey my will."

Amphitrite rises. "I think it will not," she informs him, lips pulled in an effortless grin. To him, it probably appears smug and demeaning. It's not her fault he's made it so easy to humiliate him. "The ocean listens not to those it does not care to. You're best finding a domain somewhere else, little god."

He glares at her. It should be some degree of terrifying, since he aided in the capture and downfall of the Titans, of Cronus, but he is unclaimed and she is in her home.

His glare is about as scary as a baby jellyfish.

"I will be king of the sea," he says.

She sighs. "We have many monarchs already. What need is there for you to be another?" Her eyes rake over him, judging. "This is not where you belong. Go tie yourself somewhere you fit."

His lips lift into a sneer. "I will take this for my domain whatever I must do."

Amphitrite lifts her brows and starts to sink under. "Your lost time, little god." She goes back to her depths. What impudence in that one. The world would not bend to his wiles just because he ended an era of tyranny. He would have to come across a place to store his divinity somewhere else. The ocean would not bend to him. Others have tried.

None succeeded. Becoming patron of the sea is as easy as being accepted by it. If you are not, you will never be.

Simple as that.

-----

"Fool," she scoffs at a whale, running her hand over its flesh. "Why must all new gods think themselves kings of things already claimed? There are plenty of other things they could tie their divinity to."

The whale echoes a call. Amphitrite rubs it soothingly.

"I know." She flicks her gaze to where the fool had been. "Impudence. May the Primordials never let his name be known."

Her hand flexes.

"It is undeserved."

-----

Poseidon is apparently stubborn, alongside his foolishness. Perhaps when this doesn't pan out, he will be god of screeching fools. It suits him much better than the sea and was unclaimed, waiting for him.

He's also screaming for her.

She crests with impatience, shooting him a look packed with all the cold of her domain. He has the sense (not a complete fool then) to fumble some of his confidence. "I told you the ocean would not be yours," she says, "and yet you returned."

"It must be mine," he replies. His eyes dart to the sky, something uneasy flashing across his face. "There is no choice."

She scoffs. "Hardly. There are a thousand unclaimed things you can leer your power over with hardly any struggle at all."

"I will take the sea or have nothing."

Amphitrite tips her chin up. "Enjoy the emptiness then, little god. Try not to let chaos swallow you. She loves the unclaimed."

"I am not unclaimed," he frowns at her. "I choose the ocean."

"Yet it has not chosen you. Take the rejection and find something else."

His lips part. His teeth are flat and unsuited for the blood of ocean living. "I will be patron of the sea no matter what it takes."

"Find a way for it to take you, then. Be a fool. It's amusing."

He strikes at her with divinity her ocean diverts for her. It has little patience for this imposter and his greed, is fed up with his demands. "I am no fool."

"You're demanding gifts like a petulant child." She looks down her nose at him, haughtily lifts her chin to look elsewhere. "I thought you fought in the war."

His chin flies up, features hardening. "I did."

Her lips curve up. "So where is your power? Tell me, great one, what domain is yours?"

His face flushes. She thinks that if she was on land, he'd tackle her. He's apparently not fool enough to dive in the water for her. Unfortunate. It would have been a fun sight. "What is your domain?" he redirects.

"I am Amphitrite," she tells him. Defeat causes his eyes to darken. He recognizes the name. "I am goddess of the deep and the creatures that dwell there."

"A sea patron," he clarifies, lip thrusted out.

One corner of her lip rises without consent. "Yes."

He wrinkles his nose at her reply, staring petulantly at the sand under his bare feet. He drags the ball of his foot against the sand. "So you mock me," he grumbles. "I am just searching for what you have."

Amphitrite laughs. "I belong to the sea," she says, waves lapping against the deep gills slashed on her throat, curling over her collarbones. She looks like her creatures, like a thing of the ocean. It is of no question that she belongs. It is of every question that he does. "You do not. It is as simple as that."

"That will change."

"And I will enjoy your attempt," she promises.

-----

Calypso frowns at her. "You are encouraging him," she accuses.

"What?" Amphitrite lifts her brows and doesn't let her movement to sit beside Calypso lag with the shock. She settles on the sea floor easily, a jellyfish coming to drift by her shoulder. She wraps one of its stinging tendrils around her finger. "I am doing no such thing."

"You are toying with him like a mortal." Calypso continues on unfettered. Little is capable of doing that, if anything is. Amphitrite has not seen anything that is. "Like you're planning on taking him."

Amphitrite shoots a cold look at the other goddess. What accusations. "It is harmless fun."

"He is a god with power yet unknown. It is not wise to taunt what may yet be stronger than you."

"He is a fool," Amphitrite waves her hand. It will not matter. He is determined to take the sea and he will not. He does not fit and does not have the making to force himself to. He seems bound to be a sea god and she thinks he is foolish enough to try until time's end. He may be a strong god, but unclaimed, she will always be more powerful. Such is how divinity works.

Calypso expels a short breath out her nose. "As are you."

"When are you ever wise?" she bites out, cutting the words into blades with her teeth. "You lurk in parts of the sea not yours. You claim to love the sailors you eat. What wisdom is that?"

"Lack of wisdom does not make me a fool," she replies, unbothered by Amphitrite's harshness. "And I am sea patron just as you are. There is no place not fitting me."

"I am queen of the deep." It is hers by her divinity.

Calypso flicks her gaze over. Her face is composed, unflushed, and she looks bored by the conversation. “You never go that deep. No one does. It borders the land of the dead. Do not try to lay your claim over things you do not want.” Her eyes slide away and her mouth purses with a slight twist. Anger? Disgust? Annoyance? “And where I dwell goes deeper than the deep. It is the abyss and you are not goddess of that.”

“It’s the principle of it.”

Calypso laughs. “As if you care for principle. We are both gods of something already claimed. Let details flutter where they must. They are not worth bickering for.”

Amphitrite clicks her tongue. Her sharp fingers dig into her flesh. “Yet bicker you do.”

“You are the one trying to claim what is not yours.”

Amphitrite’s face pinches. “You are irritating, today.” She pushes up, gliding away. “I do not wish to be in your presence.”

She feels Calypso lay back. “As you wish,” she says. “Do think before you flirt with the god. He is trouble.”

Amphitrite snorts as she calls a stream to carry her away. She was not flirting with the fool. She was toying with him. Laughing at his idiocy. In what domain was that flirting?

She was not looking for a husband. She was content with how things were. And even if she wasn’t — she doesn’t wish to wed a fool.

That would be foolish of her.

-----

“Amphitrite,” he calls her by name. She has felt his presence at shore for hours, but did not rise to tease him. Calypso’s words turn in her mind.

She was not looking to court this god. But did it appear that way? Despite the accusation, Calypso was clever. She had sharp eyes.

She would not speak untruths like that, but her honesty can grate. Who was she, to tell Amphitrite what her claim was? Did their domain blessing her with a second form fill her head over capacity? Amphitrite could make her own choices. She did not need a goddess, friend or not, telling her what her intentions were.

She did not need others telling her what she was.

She crests over the waves with her blood pounding hot in her veins. It makes her heart glow, a ruddy red that pierces through her translucent skin, pulsing with the beat of her heart. “Fool,” she spits out.

Poseidon lifts his brows. Something like concern passes over his face. It vanishes just as fast. “I require assistance,” he says. It looks like the words are difficult to say. They should be.

She barks a laugh. He flinches at the sound, like she’d flung a spear of divinity at his head. She throws her head back. She pulls in a breath with a grin that stretches her cheeks. “How does your pride taste?” she asks.

She’s being cruel, she knows, but Calypso thinks she was flirting. She thinks that there was enjoyment here. She wants to control Amphitrite? To tell her the reason she is doing things?

Let her see that she’s wrong. Let her see how her pride tastes when she takes it in her teeth and swallows it whole. Let her realize that sharp eyes and a clever head did not make her all-knowing.

The fool widens his stance, squares his shoulders in a vain attempt to look powerful. His divinity is but a babe in his chest, young and fluttering. “What?”

“You’re eating your pride.” She tilts her head. “Not all of it, apparently, but some. I asked how it tasted.”

“You—” he stabs a finger at her face. “You are rude.”

She chuckles, subdued. “And? What reason is there to be kind?” She rises to her feet and steps closer to the god, the ocean still thinly under her feet, tugging at her ankles. She tilts her head and looks up at him. “You are not anything to fear, little god. Not as you are now.” She steps closer.

The water bids her return. She ignores it. She is not flirting. She is not making an enemy, she is making a point.

Let Calypso see this.

“Anyways, you called me here. It is a blessing that I answered. Are you willing to let rudeness send me back without getting what you were hoping for, whatever it is?”

“No.” His hand makes to reach for her but freezes. His fingers twitch. He lowers his arm. “I— forgive me,” he grits, jaw tight with tension. Is he angry with her? Good.

She hums, not denying or accepting the apology. “What did you call me for?”

“Assistance.”

Amphitrite scoffs. “Of course. You have already said. What assistance do you seek?”

“I,” he takes a breath, “I wish to know how I could become a god of the sea.”

She stares at him, waiting for the joke, the laugh.

It does not come. Right. He is not like Calypso with her sharp humor that is often not humorous at all. He is being serious.

Truly, how did he expect to be a god worth fearing if he has to ask how to gain power?

She sighs, pressing the tips of cold nails to her cheek. “I’ve already told you.” She bends her fingers and presses the bend of them to her cheek. “The ocean must take you in turn. It is not a decision yours alone.”

“How do I… get it to take me, then?”

She considers his question.

“Please it or find a patron to take you instead. It will work as well as the domain taking you itself.”

His eyes spark and his hand lifts again.

“No.” She steps back in the surf. The water rushes in around her. “It takes much strength to take another god and farm their divinity. I have no reason to take that burden for you. Find another.”

“You are the only one I have met,” he explains, an undercurrent chopping his words too close together.

One corner of her lip pulls to the side. “Meet another, then. I will not do your dirty work for you.”

His eyes flash up at the sky as a boom rattles through the air. “I do not have time for that,” he tells her gently, eyes flicking between gray clouds and rust-green eyes.

She looks at the sky and shrugs. A storm. Why does that make him flinch? “That is not my bother.”

She turns on her heel. The ocean welcomes her back, tugging her close. It splashes Poseidon’s feet when he takes two strides after her. His fingers brush her shoulder. “What price would it take?”

Amphitrite rolls her shoulder out of his reach. “Pardon?”

“For you to take me.” She turns to look at him. “What price would you accept?”

She purses her lips. “We would have to wed,” she warns. “We would bound unlike any other.”

His breath shakes. The set of his brow stiffens. “What would it take?” he repeats.

Amphitrite taps her fingers against her mouth. He is desperate enough for this? To bind himself to her for the rest of eternity? “It will not be able to be undone,” she says. “And I do not see you with anything worth paying that price.”

He looks at her, beseeching. “There is no time.”

“So you have said.” What a broken record he was. No time, he must be a sea patron. On and on. Why did she think him entertaining?

Because he humiliated himself and seemed blind to it? It was amusing to watch, at first, before he dredged her in, trying to make a prisoner of a settled goddess. For her to take him in a way that gives him hold over the sea, her own weakens. She loses while he gains.

What could he have to make that trade — that loss — worth it? She did not like him as a god or a man. She liked her domain and her creatures.

It was not worth it, to humor him and his fear.

He drops to his knees. The damp sand caves under the blow. He lowers his head to her. “Please,” he asks. “I will do whatever you require. Anything you ask. I need to be made king of the sea.”

Amphitrite settles, folding her legs beneath her. The water surges and recedes around her collarbone. She takes in a considering breath. He was a son of Cronus, a brother of Zeus. There were tales that they were building a place for gods and something like that would surely be quite powerful. If she aids in his endeavor to be the sea’s face there, perhaps she will be face, too. It could not hurt to have an ally among a leader god, a— what did Calypso tell her that one time? A throned god? There were to be twelve, she thinks and they were to be honored by mortals as no god has before. “Convince me.” She tilts her head and weighs his every twitch in her mind.

Desperate gods are not all that different from desperate mortals. Not if the god is a fool, which this one has proven to be.

He will sacrifice more than he is comfortable to pay if she makes him squirm enough. He will offer enough that the deal goes in her favor.

Amphitrite has always been good at making others uncomfortable.

-----

Calypso’s divinity is an easy thing to bear, when they are in the deep, where Amphitrite is most powerful. When they are closer to shore, it twinges something in her. It makes itself a burden difficult to shake.

Calypso’s fury is a tame thing. Her acts of wrath are not sunken ships and slain sailors. Those are calculated, are not done on whim, is not something she does out of anger.

The only thing her anger does is temper her words into silver blades. She is most eloquent when she is furious.

“You are a fool to be told,” she says, dismissing greeting. The cold bite in her voice sinks into Amphitrite’s chest. Her eyes — do not look furious. She does not look angry at all. Not like Amphitrite expected when she settled her deal with the Olympian and took back to her water.

She looks sad.

The cold thing Calypso placed in her chest pulses. “What do you mean?” She lifts her chin, trying to look unaffected. She does not want to have this conversation so close to the surface, where Calypso’s divinity slips in through her gills as easily as water.

It is too distracting. Too— too easy to succumb to, especially if it with sadness that Calypso confronts her and not anger.

“You struck a deal with the Olympian.” Her eyes drift lower, focused on the joint of her collarbone, the little divot where Calypso’s divinity always rests. “It was not a wise deal to strike.”

Amphitrite waves off the words with a scoff. “However do you mean? I know how to bargain things in my favor.”

Calypso purses her lips out. Her eyes lift. They are sadder, now, and Amphitrite glares to keep them from pulling her in. Calypso’s reasoning was always wise but not always wisest. There were other perspectives that occasionally offered wiser things. This was one of those times. Calypso did not know the deal she struck. How could she? Amphitrite shielded both of their words from sinking in the water and Calypso was not near enough to wriggle around it. “Do you.”

She does not say it like a question.

“Yes,” she affirms anyways, her eyes reshaping into a frosty glare.

Calypso’s brow lifts. “Right.” Her eyes sink towards the ocean floor.

Amphitrite propels herself back. She speaks with a lifted lip. “Do not patronize me,” she warns. “I know what I’ve done.”

Their eyes reconnect. Calypso’s gaze is like an anchor, dragging her down. “I doubt that,” she whispers. “I really do.”

“You don’t know,” Amphitrite says, a steep edge to her words. She doesn’t know. She can’t. But that gaze, that sadness — she clearly thinks she knows something. But what?

“For your sake, I hope I don’t.” She bows her head and does nothing as Amphitrite pushes herself forwards and sinks back to her domain. The water pulses with Calypso’s sorrow. It coats Amphitrite’s teeth until the cold of the deep freezes it out and even then, it lingers.

-----

“You are a fool to be told.”

“You struck a deal with the Olympian.”

“It was not a wise deal to strike.”

Calypso’s words have bad habit of festering in Amphitrite’s mind. She tries to brush them off, to leave them to float at the surface, but they sink right alongside her, anchored with steel to her throat. It is a chained collar of worry.

“Do you.”

“I doubt that.”

Patronization that is actually worry. Amphitrite has never known Calypso to needlessly worry.

The words she speaks are always anchored with truth. Weight. Her words never float because there is reason behind each syllable.

Her nails dig into her palms, seeping the water in divinity that will only be hers alone for precious little time. Was Calypso right to be concerned?

An eel skims over her shoulder, curling around to brush against her arm. Amphitrite strokes it with the hand not bloodied in divinity. “What do you think?” she asks. She lifts her other palm and stares at the dull gold. “Was it a mistake?”

The eel swims away.

Amphitrite’s ankle twitches. “What help,” she says. She closes her fingers over her palms, shoulder jolting with the pressure.

What help indeed. What mistake did Calypso see in the deal she made? What flaw was she being blind to?

The dark curls around her. The deep embraces her in its chill and its emptiness. No matter how poor a deal she made, it will still be here whenever she needs it. Her domain will not disappear because she’s abandoning it. It will not abandon her in equal turn.

That is not what it wishes to do.

It chose Amphitrite as a queen and it has little choice but to respect her decisions. If she wishes to deal herself to an Olympian, to bend herself in the way that bends her domain — then it has little option but to obey. Their queen has commanded.

It may be her last order.

-----

"Little king," Amphitrite greets, tilting her chin.

Poseidon’s eyes glint. He looks pleased in a way that worries her, now. Before, she had thought it was just satisfaction at getting what he had spent sun-turns cajoling for.

Had he played her? Had she stepped into his trap? Was he wise enough to set one?

Was she foolish enough to fall for it?

The concern must be showing on her face, because Poseidon’s mouth twists into a grin. Easy and proud, like a king’s.

She was making him king.

He was getting everything he’d asked for. What was he sacrificing to her, to even the field? A few promises a wise man could eventually wriggle his way out from? Some words that could be torn apart?

Words unsworn on the Styx?

Her chin dips as she swallows. Her eyes do not leave her future spouse. The companion she’s going to swear her future and her divinity to.

Calypso had her reason to worry, did she not?

No. Yes.

Poseidon may not be the fool she thought. That much is becoming true. But she is no less wise. The deal may be skewed, but it is not one-sided. It is not unfair.

Amphitrite would never swear herself to anything that could be turned upon her. She does not make a habit of underestimating an enemy enough that she bares her belly to them, that she leaves herself entirely at their mercy.

Poseidon thought her a fool, and struck his bargain on that option. Amphitrite thought him a fool, and struck a deal that could work even if he turned out to be wise.

She does not nest all of her creatures in the same section of sea.

-----

It is not painful.

It feels like it should be. Ripping one’s divinity from their blood should be an excruciating thing. But it is painless.

Her divinity slips from her body like her blood had earlier, when she cut her palm in her heightened emotional state.

It is simple, in other words. So very simple.

Her creatures lurk around them both in the ceremony, netted above them like an elaborate trap. As if either of them could decide to switch their mind now.

Deals have been made. Divinity should not turn back on their blatant word.

“Careful with your words, little god,” she warns, tilting her head as she examines him. He is nice looking, she supposes, though she doesn’t think him nice enough to warrant wedding him. But there are worse looking things she could tie herself to.

As if that was consolation, but it was nice. Her heirs, at least, would have chances to become more.

He lifts his chin at her before tucking it back into place. He is taller, technically, though Amphitrite keeps her feet off the floor so their eyes are level. The sea feels far more frigid than usual.

Is it her domain, mourning what she used to be? Is it mourning her choice to make this god it so obviously rejected its king?

Is it her almost-wedded, already controlling what is all around him?

No. Her domain would not grant him his gifts until it was due.

The vows, too, feel as if they should stick in her throat or come out bubbling in electrified acid. But they, too, are easy. They slip out like the fine silk donning them both, silks dyed matching shades of blue.

The color suits her well. It offsets her hair. It does not suit him. It is not ill-suiting, but it does not suit him as well as the color of the domain he’s to control should. The color should, when worn, appear as if it is the only color that would do him justice. It should be the only thing that fits the divinity humming under his skin.

On him, it is just a color.

A nice color and nothing more.

It was not what it should be. He was a false king. His divinity was not made to churn the tides and her domain was not made to crash under his order. She was not made to be bound like this and he was not made to be bound to her.

After, when her divinity is raw in her chest, glowing heart pulsing weakly behind glass ribs, she takes his hand. “I hope you find this worth it,” she says, looking at him through her lashes.

He squeezes her hand and pulls his back. “Of course it was,” he replies.

She wonders if he can feel the strings wrapped around his joints. If he can feel the pull over him she has knotted in his chest. He made her swear to him the rights of her divinity, the capability of making ocean obey his command.

She made him swear his devotion to her will.

Can he feel that? Does he know the depth of that vow? That they were more than words and that as her divinity is bound to him, his is bound to her similarly?

It was, as Calypso said, an unfair deal. But it was unfair for them both. Painful like stabs and broken bone. Like horse and cow. Weak comparability.

They were both losers. That was unquestionable.

It was silly of Calypso, though, to think that Amphitrite did not know what she was doing.

She was no stranger to making deals.

-----

“So it is done.” Calypso is lying on the floor, observing the sharp points of nails she isn’t bothering to blunt. She doesn’t like to bother with shedding all the features of the predator she is, especially right after she’s taken a ship to sate her appetite.

Amphitrite never bothers to look mortal. It is not the form that is natural, like it is (more or less) for most of the divine. She is queen of the sea and she looks the part. She is of the sea and one could tell at a glance. “Yes,” she replies, digging up sand with her fingers.

Hers are sharper, technically, as Calypso’s aren’t really nails. They’re more akin to the suckers that line her arms when she is Kraken, just lengthened and enlarged to fit the rough anatomy of human fingers. If she gets them in something, there is no getting them out.

They are dangerous in a different way.

“Have the effects settled yet?” Calypso lifts her chin and the movement allows Amphitrite to see the thick bob of a swallow. As if she was uncertain. Concerned.

Amphitrite thought they were done with that. The deal is done. Calypso does not know better.

“What effects?” she asks, though her bones throb with the fragility of her lessened divinity. She’s been weak, since she wed the fool king, but it is strengthening slowly. She will be back to normal. It may take some decades to be back completely, but that is nothing to her.

Calypso’s breath bubbles up. “Of gifting away your divinity.” She tilts her head and slides her gaze over. “How fares your hold on your domain?”

“It is fine,” Amphitrite defends instantly. She pauses. Is it? Usually, she is approached and surrounded by the wildlife she rules over but that has been absent. It is an effect of her weak divinity. When that is back, so will they.

The sailor goddess hums, noncommittal. “I would be wary of each irregularity.”

“There has been none.”

Calypso’s eyes roam the empty water around them. It looks casual enough, but this is Calypso. She is making a show of looking, turning her head when there is no need. “Right,” she says. “Still. Do not say I did not try to warn you of the danger you enrolled for.”

“It was not dangerous.”

That, Calypso does not answer.

-----

Poseidon is building them a castle. He is insisting upon it. “What kind of rulers would we be,” he says, his hands clasped around her arms too tightly, “if we did not have a throne?”

Amphitrite pries her way out of his grip. “No rulers at all,” she replies. She looks at the construction, at the rising architecture of gems and coral. It is a beautiful thing, already, not even half built, but she is beginning to be aware of the dangers Calypso spoke of.

Her divinity is tied to her husband and he is, in turn, binding it to this castle. To the throne that will be hers. He has not admitted as such, but her divinity hums in the desire, the attempt. She would point it out, would fight, but there is little point to. She cannot undo what is done. She will have to live with her vow and attempt to find some other way out.

“It is beautiful,” she tells him, because he wants to hear it and it will do no harm to be on his good side.

He beams, watching the construction with pride. “Is it not?”

No, her domain whispers in her ear, monotone and sad at once. It does not have emotion like the living, but she can feel its mourning all the same. When it had accepted her as a patron, it was not for this. It is not.

Her domain sympathizes, in the only way it can. It does not offer help. It could, she believes, shatter their deal if it wished, but. The ocean takes after its namesake. Oceanus does not care for what happens in his home and body and neither does the ocean. They are, in fact, one in the same.

Amphitrite holds her eyes shut a moment. “You can go to Olympus,” she tells him.

His head whips over, a fight brimming on his tongue.

“That construction is more important for you to oversee. I can handle this.”

He squints.

She laughs, tilting her head mischievously. “Do you not trust me, husband dear?”

His mouth parts and he bites the words back with a click. “No,” he says. But, all the same, he turns to join his brothers in the making of a place for gods.

She smiles at his retreat. It looks like silver.

The new husband is so hungry for recognition, he’ll want to spend his days on the throne that matters. There was no glory in being a sea king, if you were searching for masses of mortal worship. The ocean would not provide that.

So she had the mercy of knowing he would not be a constant fixture at her side. She could pretend everything was sparkling, in his absence. That her throne was hers alone.

Despite the horror it took to get it — she’s liking the idea of a palace. Of a throne. Of the comfort of knowing her place in mortal’s mind is secure. She can lounge, now, and still be remembered just the same.

Tension leaks from her shoulders.

She thinks she could learn to like this. She did, after all, gain more than she gave.

What was a little divinity, in the end, for a palace and memory steadfast?

-----

Calypso is… displeased is the kind way to put it but neither of them are kind. She is appalled in a wrathful, furious way. That still feels too kind. Calypso feels more Kraken than goddess.

“Pardon?” she asks, sharp teeth snapping around the word.

“You heard me,” Amphitrite says, leaning back against a wall of her new palace, rubies studded around her in a bloody halo. “Do not feign deafness.”

Calypso laughs. There’s a wildness in the gesture, a feral sort of energy to it that raises Amphitrite’s guard. “I must be going so,” she says. “Because surely I did not hear you right.”

“You did,” Amphitrite confirms.

Calypso looks at her like. Like she’d just admitted to relinquish her divinity for a mortal child. Like the very idea is too wild even for them. “What ill poisoned your mind?” she asks. Her arms gesture around to the glimmering castle. “This was not worth the price. It is a thing. You could have done this yourself if you wished.”

Amphitrite watches the outburst languidly. She has never seen Calypso so active. Even when they are racing and she is enjoying herself, there is a relaxed sort of grace to her movements, a backing of calm that permeates through anything else. Even when she is worked up, there is still sense about her. Amphitrite cannot find any now. “You wouldn’t understand. Not with your mind pried shut.”

“He fooled you.”

“He did no such thing. I am aware of the deal I made.”

Calypso scoffs. “Then you are the foolish one. You may not understand the gravity yet, but this choice will grow to haunt you.”

“Sure it will.” Amphitrite looks down her nose. “I fail, though, for the record, to see how this,” she wiggles her fingers outward, gesturing to the palace, “could ever be something I’d regret.”

Calypso’s mouth parts. She bites her words back with a tense jaw. “I suppose we will just see then,” she says, voice back to its typical distanced tone.

Amphitrite nods. “We will.”

Calypso nods back. She does not look pleased, still and that is not entirely a surprise. She is so rarely pleased, when things do not go the way she thinks is best. But she is not entirely displeased, either, which is an accomplishment alone, even if a miniscule one. She eyes the walls of coral and gems, mouth twisting down as she takes in the opulence of it.

It is about the reaction Amphitrite expected. Calypso’s tastes are simple and this is anything except. But that was fine. The palace was not for Calypso nor would she reside there. So it did not matter if she liked it. It was to Amphitrite’s taste and it was to be home.

A place easy to pin. There were perks to having a place to settle and Amphitrite fully intends to take advantage of them. Having mortals on hand was one. She’d always wanted to keep one long term. Her chance for that had come.

Calypso’s eyes drift back to Amphitrite. There is something in her gaze that tries to tug at Amphitrite’s divinity. It has weight that Amphitrite has never felt, not when she is this deep, in the heart of her domain. She swallows it down.

“So we will,” Calypso repeats.

Amphitrite knows she is right. This castle is to be a kind of prison for them both, her and her new husband. There was no worry in that. Calypso did not know details and she was assuming the worst. It was a sweet thought. Her fault for not believing in Amphitrite’s cruelness, however. She knew how to deal herself sweetness from a bitter fool.

Still, to be a good sport, she nods.

Time will prove one of them wrong.

*****

This is still all drippingmoon's fault. Hope you liked what I created.

Tags: @caffeinewitchcraft @super-writer-gal @drippingmoon @blindthewind @notwritinganyflufftoday @mel-writes-with-her-dragons

#writeblr #writblr #creative writing #writing #greek myth retellings #greek mythology #amphitrite #poseidon #calypso #nikkywritesstories #my writing #wip ocean's heart #wip oceans heart #this is such a bare bones way to tell the story and i am undecided on if thats a good or bad thing #i could totally go into this more though #so if you want more. send asks? ill rant happily #i think its the tone i find off though. its a little different from how i usually write. probably why i have mixed feelings on this #or i hope thats why at least

18 notes · View notes

hiswhiteknight · 4 years

Text

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 5

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2000

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

You were woken up by a bolt, Mrs. Fitz barged in and woke you up. She had to you stripped into your nakedness, dressing you in appropriate garb, freezing you as she washed you up. She would make comments like, “You’ve got lovely hair and strong frame.” Or “you’ll make a lucky wife for some lad.”

You didn’t eye roll the comment because she was so extremely kind and lovely. Mostly you stayed quiet and listened to her speak about a gathering and how nice it is to have you to help with the injuries and ailments. You thought about the rocks and getting back to your time, where you were slightly less likely to die due to being an outspoken woman. You remember the woman from the rocks and what she said, “Enjoy your adventure, lass.” Your gut told you, you would get back there by fate or at least you could buy time to plan a better escape than something you could throw together in the next few days or even weeks.

You were waiting to be called to the laird, Mrs. Fitz guided you down to an area where you recognized as some medicine, healer space. You spent your time learning and reading from the books. If you were going to be convincing person with healing, you’ve got to read some stuff. You tried to go back into your memory searching for the information you learned from the states and some information you could read from the books. You were far from a medic in anyway. When you first met with the Laird, he was kind and didn’t question you as harshly as you thought he would, considering I was a stranger or a spy. The US government would not take too kindly to a stranger like myself in my time.

Most of the time you read up and explored the grounds and customs. You truly kept to yourself, trying to learn the best you could, especially considering you were not an expert level medic like your brother, he was the MacGyver doctor of the group. The first day you ate in the kitchen with Mrs. Fitz, trying to help around the kitchen. This seemed more manageable than medicine for now. The next day, your mind wondered to Jamie more so than the day before.

Honestly, it’s hard to keep the man out of your head. The first initial day my mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out how to survive in this time till I can find my way home. But now my interest in Jamie was more towards the fact that he felt like your only friend at this time and you didn’t want him to get sick and die of infection, “Mrs. Fitz,” she looked back at you after helping with breakfast, “Do you know where Jamie’s been, thought I would have seen him around more?”

“He spends his time by the stables, top of the meadow, towards the east, why?”

“I should look after his arm, change some of his bandages, and maybe I can bring him lunch,” you said, skeptically. Everything you said, you were cautious in offending the culture here. Honestly, it’s the way you felt when traveling around the world, always apologizing, and choosing to say nothing incase you offend something which you no nothing about.

She smiled at you, “Of course you do lass, I’ve seen you working down there. You’ll see the stuff you need over there.”

“Thank you, you are a true angel,” she continued to work as she smiled, “Oh I thought I might take some extra food for Dougal’s men who have been following me. Thought they might get hungry.”

Shaking her head, “Yeah, though your treating them much kinder than they have been treating you.”

Answering her comment with a smirk, you shrug, “You’re making it harder to want to be nice Mrs. Fitz.”

“You’ve got a kind soul dear, that’s all I’m saying,” she mused at you before shooing you away to complete your business, “Also Las, the laird will want you to join the feast tonight as his guest.”

This cautioned your step, this would be his time to question your motives – the good cop, “Yes Mrs. Fitz, I’d love too. I guess I’m done hiding in your kitchen.”

“That you are my dear,” she smiled at you before you trotted away to get some things you need.

On your way over, you noticed your guard for the day. For the most part, you tried to ignore the pair. You would have done the same if you were in their shoes. You saw Jamie working a horse as it trots around him. It was strange to think of this time being so similar to how it’s still done today. Jamie had a glow to him, something you really couldn’t describe, not that you’d act on it. You’re not known to act on your attraction or even think about romantic feelings – you’re about everything else. Here was the first time since you were a teenager that you felt a spark of a crush added with a tad bit of annoyance.

It was unfortunate that you were so focused on Jamie’s glow that you trip on a divot in the ground and clobbered over making a strange noise of shock, some curses, and a clang from your basket. This spooked the horse, which nearly injured Jamie. You could hear his Gaelic curses before double taking the sight of you on the ground, “Dear me, I’m sorry,” you yelled in his direction, standing up on your knees trying to dust off your hands.

He tried to hold back his laughter, pulling his sling away from his body and bouncing over to help you up and gathered your things, “She’s just a girl with spirits, that’s all. It’s always a good thing. What can I do for you Y/N?”

“I haven’t seen you in the past day, thought I’d bring you some food and change those bandages,” you said to him, noticing how difficult it is to keep eye contact with him, especially with him holding your hand and you suddenly feeling shy again.

He nodded, looking around, “Let’s head over here, I suspect it’s going to rain soon.”

When he showed you where you were going, you both sat in silence as you checked his wound. It seemed to be healing nicely and that’s when the rain started, “I love the rain.”

“You’re in luck, you’ll be getting that a lot here,” he smirked at you, “Doesn’t it rain where you’re from?”

You continued to focus on wrapping back his wound in clean bandages and the conversation is making it easier to ignore your attraction towards him, “Of course, but I’ve travelled all over for a long time, so rain doesn’t always happen in some areas.”

“Aye, makes sense,” he said, “I imagine everything is healing nicely.”

You nod, as you pat his leg to say he could put his shirt fully back on. You started to lay out the food and you just watched him. You weren’t surprised how much he ate with out much work he had to be doing. Something sparked Jamie to tell you some tales of his times before this moment and you just listened. He told you about his family, especially in relation to his uncles, which made you understand it a bit more. This young man before you had been through his share of trauma and he still sits in front of you fully conscious and thriving. He was a wonder and refreshing. He didn’t hide anything; this was him take it or leave it. He started to get ready to start work again, “You didn’t have to tell me all that, you know. I could be a traitor, a spy even. Maybe I could get money for your head and run away from here.”

He chuckled, smirking down at you before squatting next to you, “That you could, Deoiridh,” he tapped your chin, “Guess I decided to trust ye instead.” He stood up, reaching his hand down to help you up as well, “Best be getting back to work. Thank you for bring me some food and taking care of this,” he touched his shoulder. You could see the stable hand heading in your direction, “You’re a good listener. Also, I hope you’ll start talking about yourself. You’re a mystery.”

You smirk, “Better to use to my advantage later, especially if you even try to pick me up like that again.”

Shaking his head, “I won’t make any promises,” he grinned at you before getting back to his work exchanging some words with a man he worked with.

You passed by one of Dougal’s men, passing him a basket of food, “Come on good sir, let’s head back to the castle before you switch with Angus, you are far more charming.”

He was in shock and had to skip to catch up to you, taking a bite of an apple. For Dinner, you sat next to the laird being introduced to his family and endured his questions. He continued to try to get you to drink more or catch you in some sort of lie, but you remained calm and answered some of the storyline you have come up with over the past few days. Though he and Dougal didn’t seem convinced, you were in better footing already.

Over the next few days, you got to know the people. Dougal would watch you interact with the children and teaching some of the boys and girls how to fight properly with swords and fists. Medicine was becoming something you were doing your best to learn, but this was your expertise.

Besides that, you kept yourself small as possible until the night of the hall where people gathered to discuss disputes. You stood close to Mrs. Fitz and she translated some of the conflicts being bestowed in front of you. You heard a gasp next to you as Mrs. Fitz held onto your arm, “That’s my granddaughter.” She explained the best she could about what was being said.

“Punished,” you questioned, “She’s a young lady, a girl,” you say, “What would he have them do,” you questioned, trying to understand the barbaric concept. You looked at the pretty girl, noticing her delicate features and small frame. This girl could not take much punishment from what you could tell.

“Whipped,” you barley heard her whisper.

Without thinking you look at her and say, “Like hell.” You barged your way in the center, hearing nearly everyone gasp and a flame of anger hit both Mackenzie’s eyes, “Pardon me, my laird,” you didn’t understand a lot of the customs, but after talking to Mrs. Fitz and some of the children, you know some of the concepts of this ritual, “I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m to understand I could volunteer to take the girls punishment.”

The father began to yell and get aggressive, you made eye contact with a desperate and scared Mrs. Fitz.

There is a giant pause and skepticism soared between the pair of gentlemen in front of you, “I’m trying my best to fit in here, as your guest, and it’s only fair that I show my respect for your people. This is but a young girl, I can volunteer myself, please.”

Dougal looked fairly enraged, but there was a different spark in Colum’s eyes. Before either of them could speak, Jamie spoke in Gaelic, something that made the crowd laugh, which you suspected to be at your expense. He spoke directly to the laird, which got interrupted by the father again. Dougal whispered something to Colum, “As I appreciate you trying to respect our culture Mistress O’Mulligain, I will ask you to have a sit back where you came.”

You were about to protest, particularly with Jamie’s injury, but the look he gave you told him not to push it. You wanted to be sick, as well kick the crap out of Jamie. You stood next to Mrs. Fitz, putting your arm around her shoulder, and holding her tight. Colum spoke directly to Jamie next, which I understood to show he accepted his terms.

It made you sick watching the cheap moves from his uncle’s lackey. You were bubbling so hot that steam was exploding out of your ears. You watched him limp way and you made your way to give him a piece of your mind.

PART 6

taglist: @doctorwhatwhenandwhere

#Jamie Fraser #Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser imagine #jamie fraser x reader

211 notes · View notes

rootbeergoddess · 3 years

Text

Candle on the Water

First, thank you to the amazing and wonderful @positivelydetectivecomics for not just editing but also being my #1 fan girl and fellow Tom Hiddleston/Thomas Sharpe groupie. Second, this has to be one of the longest things I’ve ever written. It’s like twenty pages. I’m so shocked I managed to write this much! Anyways, this is a Little Mermaid AU for Crimson Peak because I want Thomas to be happy goddamnit.

The title is from the song Candle on the Water from Pete’s Dragon.

~*~

The ocean had always fascinated and terrified Thomas. It was vast, deep and endless. There was no way humans would ever be able to search the entirety of it. It offered up many beauties but also horrors. That didn’t mean he didn’t find it beautiful. He just preferred to enjoy it from the beach, not on a boat.

Boats made him nervous. Being an engineer, he could appreciate the beauty of a design but he didn’t think humans were meant to float. Plus, he got seasick. Why had he agreed to this forsaken cruise? Lucille was nowhere to be seen but he honestly preferred to be alone right now. Her presence had become smothering. He had known that sooner or later this farce of a relationship would have to end and he could see the end in sight. Avoiding her wasn’t his best strategy but he still needed time to think. How could he tell his sister that he was done with her?

I'll be your candle on the water

My love for you will always burn

I know your lost and drifting,

But the clouds are lifting

Don't give up you have somewhere to turn

Thomas lifted his head, scanning the ocean. Singing, someone was singing. It was a song he had never heard but it was the most melodic thing he had ever heard. But he was confused. The voice was coming from the water. That was impossible unless it was a really talented manatee. There were no islands for miles and they weren’t even remotely close to the shore. Was this a trick?

I'll be your candle on the water

Till every wave is warm and bright

My soul is there beside you,

Let this candle guide you

Soon you'll see a golden stream of light

Confusion was replaced with curiosity. Thomas scanned the ocean, desperate to find the source of the song. He walked along the deck, his eyes never leaving the waters. Then, he spotted it. Sitting on a rock, he saw a woman with her eyes up to the sky and her mouth opened.

A cold and friendless tide has found you

Don't let the stormy darkness pull you down

I'll paint a ray of hope around you

Circling in the air, lighted by a prayer

The boat was getting closer and Thomas gasped when he got a better look. It wasn’t a woman, it was a mermaid. She had no legs but a dark, blue tail of scales. Her long hair was in a braid with seashells and starfish. Around the rock were a group of fish and a few other sea creatures, all listening to her song. He wasn’t sure why he did but Thomas stood on the railing. Her voice was so pure and rich, he had to hear more.

I'll be your candle on the water

This flame inside of me will grow

Keep holding on, you'll make it

Here's my hand so take it

Look for me reaching out to show

As sure as rivers flow,

I'll never let you go

Her song was done and Thomas’ heart felt heavy. Then, she looked away from the sky and their eyes met. Thomas wanted to say something, anything but at that moment, he lost his footing and fell into the water.

~*~

You dove right into action when you saw the human hit the water.

Humans were not born natural swimmers like mermaids were. They had to be taught how to swim and some of them never learned the skill. They also didn’t possess gills or any means of breathing underwater. This human could drown without your help and as you dove under the water, you could see him struggling. The poor thing was terrified.

You swam to him and when you reached him, you saw the fear in his eyes. Instantly, you felt bad. He had been listening to you, that was why he was standing on that large, metal thing and he had slipped. How foolish were you? Without wasting a moment, you grabbed him and swam back up to the surface. He gasped for air, desperate to fill his lungs.

“Easy, easy,” You rubbed his back.

The humans on the metal contraption were in a tizzy; they were searching for him, you suspected. There had to be a way to get him back to where he belonged without you getting spotted. As you thought, you felt the human’s eyes on you and you turned to face him. His fear was gone and was replaced by adoration. It was odd but you felt a bit shy suddenly.

“You’re a mermaid,” He said.

“Yes,” You said. “And you’re a human.”

“You’re beautiful.”

You felt your face flush. Other merfolk had told you that you were beautiful, you were the king’s daughter after all. So, why did this human make you feel weak? The thought was pushed to the back of your mind when you came up with a solution to your predicament.

“Oberon,” You said.

“What?” He asked.

Around your neck was a shell necklace; in the middle was a small, blue conch shell with holes drilled into it. You placed the tip of it into your mouth and then blew into it. The human watched you, entranced by everything you did.

“What is that?” He asked.

“It’s how I call my friends,” You said. “Oberon should be here any minute.”

“Is he a friend of yours? Is he a merperson like you? How did you meet him?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” You said, smiling.

“I’m sorry but---I thought mermaids were a myth,” He said. “And I’ve never met such a captivating creature before in my life.”

Again, familiar words but your heart swelled at this.

“Do you have a name?” He asked, his eyes scanning every inch of your face.

“Y/N. Do you have one?”

“Thomas. Thomas Sharpe.”

Before you could ask anymore questions, a large tentacle poked out of the ocean. Thomas screamed but you quickly covered his mouth.

“No, it’s okay,” You told him. “This is Oberon. He’s going to help you back onto your---floating island.”

“You can talk to a giant octopus?” Thomas asked. “That’s incredible I---wait, you mean you’re leaving?”

He sounded disappointed. Guilt returned to you but you knew you were doing the right thing.

“I have too, it’s too dangerous,” You said. “If someone else were to find me, they’d gut me like a fish or worse.”

“Will I ever get a chance to see you again?” He asked.

“It’s probably better to forget about me,” You gave him a sad smile. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

You placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and dove back into the water. Oberon wrapped a tentacle around Thomas’ waist and soon, he was gone. Sighing, he delved deeper into the depths towards your home, thinking he’d forget about the experience completely.

~*~

Thomas didn’t forget.

When Y/N had swum away, he was ready to go after her He was no match for Oberon though; the massive octopus placed him back on the boat as if it was nothing. He watched as the tentacles receded into the water, leaving him behind. He wanted to throw himself back into the water to swim after her but it was a foolish idea. Y/Nwere faster than him, how would he catch up to her?

Lucille had found him and she was furious, blaming everyone from the captain to the cook. Thomas let her fret over him but his mind was elsewhere. A mermaid; he had met a real life mermaid named Y/N. The fairy tales he had read as a child hadn’t done Y/N justice; she was a million times more beautiful than anything in any book. The rest of the trip felt like a blur to him. Lucille didn’t let him out of her sight. This would have annoyed him but he was more focused on finding Y/N again. Each day was spent on the deck, praying and hoping he’d hear her golden tone again. Lucille pestered him, asking him what he was looking for but he never told her. Would she believe him? Who cared about that, he was worried about Y/N’s safety.

“If someone else were to find me, they’d gut me like a fish or worse.”

Lucille was the or worse. Thomas longed to see Y/N again but he couldn’t stand the thought of Lucille discovering her. She would take such joy in destroying the beautiful maid. Even if he ever saw her again,he would do all in his power to make sure Lucille would never find out.

They returned to land two days later. Lucille was doing everything in her power to get Thomas’ attention back.

“Thomas, you need to stop daydreaming and focus again,” Lucille nagged. “I don’t know what happened that night but it seems to have affected you more than you’re letting on.”

“I’m fine,” He lied. “I wished you’d believe me.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” Lucille grabbed his hand. “I know you too well.”

She was right but that didn’t change anything. Thomas couldn’t remember how or when he realized the relationship he had with his sister was wrong. No, not wrong; twisted. Loving his sister in that way had been wrong but he hadn’t stopped it or even tried until now. Meeting Y/Nh had just made him want to distance himself from Lucille even more.

When they reached home, Thomas still found himself distracted. He tried to work on his machine but it was impossible. He was dying to see Y/N again. The only issue was he had no idea how to find her. He felt hopeless; would he ever be able to find her again? Thinking of being unable to reunite with Y/N filled him with dread. For days, he felt aimless. Two weeks after the trip, he decided to take a ride to clear his mind.

Thomas found himself drawn to the beach. It was hopeless but he thought that maybe he’d be able to spot a glimpse of her again. He had the carriage stop and he popped out, surveying the land before him. He stopped when he saw something on the beach; a body. Confusion filled him as he headed down on the warm sand and walked towards the unmoving person. His heart nearly stopped when he realized who it was.

“Y/N?”

Carefully, he turned the woman on her back. Yes, it was Y/N. He caressed her face and her eyes fluttered open. When she saw him, she managed a weak smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to forget,” she replied.

~*~

Thomas wrapped you in his coat and helped you walk towards his carriage. You stopped when you saw the two huge, black creatures.

“What are those?” You asked, scared.

“They’re just horses,” Thomas said. “They’re beasts of burden we use in our day to day life.”

“They’re so big,” You said. “They look like they want to eat me.”

“It’s alright,” Thomas assured you. “Watch.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue and the horses looked his way. He reached out, rubbing the snout of one. You watched with awe, amazed that such large creatures would bend to him. The horse noticed you and you shrank away but Thomas took your hand in his. Then, he carefully placed it on the horse’s snout.

“It’s soft,” you said, “I thought they would vanish. They look like they’re made of shadows.”

Thomas chuckled at this and you smiled. You ignored the looks of the driver as Thomas helped you into the carriage. Fascinated by this new mode of transportation, you sat down and ran your hands over the cushions of the seats. Thomas sat down next to you, watching you as you felt the fabric.

“Y/N?”

You looked at him.

“How---how are you here?” He asked.

“It’s a rather long story,” You said.

“I’d love to hear it.”

So, you told him. You told him about how after meeting him, you kept thinking of him. No matter what you did, you couldn’t forget him and it was driving you mad. Your sisters had noticed and asked what was wrong but you lied, telling them you were thinking about how you wanted a new seashell necklace. After two weeks, you decided enough was enough and you had to do something about it.

You had to see Thomas again.

Under the cover of night, you snuck off into the deepest, darkest waters to the home of Morwenna, the sea witch. After explaining your problem, she told you she would help you but she warned you it was dangerous.

That part you didn’t tell Thomas. You didn’t want him to know what giving up your tail would potentially cost. Or that if he didn’t feel anything for you, you’d turn into seafoam.

Morwenna had one of her anglerfish take you towards the surface along with a potion and a sack full of jewels. According to the witch, humans had to ‘pay’ for things. The jewels would help you do so. Once you drank the liquid, your tail started to split and you felt imessnese pain. It was so bad that you blacked out. You think the angelfish pushed you towards the shore but you weren’t sure. As you told Thomas this, he never took his eyes off of you.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” he said, “These past two weeks have been such a nightmare.”

“They have?”

“I’ve done nothing but think of you,” he admitted.

“Then I made your life miserable.” You felt awful.

“No, don’t think that! I can’t explain it but meeting you--it’s changed me,” Thomas turned your face to look at him. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

“So you’re not upset?”

“No. Although I wish you had been able to contact me,” Thomas smiled. “I could have brought you a dress.”

“A what?”

You soon learned what a dress was. The carriage arrived in town and once you saw other people, you pressed your face against the window. There were so many people, dressed in such odd fabrics. Thomas stopped the carriage and told you to wait for him. You pouted at first but he promised you’d be able to leave the carriage soon. Not wanting to upset him, you agreed to wait. A few minutes later, Thomas returned with two women.

“Hello!” you greeted them happily.

“Oh you poor thing!” one of them said, “Look at the state you're in.”

“I’m not poor or a thing,” you said but they ignored you.

“Come here dearest, we’ll get you cleaned up and we’ll find something proper for you to wear.”

You were confused and looked at Thomas. He gave you a small nod. Well, if he trusted these humans, you trusted them. They helped you out of the carriage, making sure Thomas' coat covered all of you and ushered you into a building. They took you towards the back and gave you a simple ‘dress’ to wear. You stared at it, wondering what to do with it. It was such an odd thing, why did humans wear them?

“Here dearie,” One of them said. “Let me help you.”

You were thankful for the help. Once you were dressed, they began to ‘measure’ you. Measuring involved some long, yellow thing and a lot of notes. Curious, you grabbed at the yellow item and tugged at it.

“What is it?” You asked, holding it up.

“A measuring tape dear. Poor thing, your amnesia must be terrible. You don't remember anything.”

“I do remember things! I remember my name, it’s Y/N,” You said. “And who are you?”

“I’m Miss Chatterly and this is my daughter Elizabeth,” The elder of the two said. “Now stand still darling. We’re going to get your measurements and find you a dress.”

“Must I wear a dress?”

“Of course dear, you want to be a proper woman, don’t you?”

You thought about this for a second.

“If I’m a proper woman, will Thomas like me?” you asked.

“I think he already likes you, my sweet,” Miss Chatterley chuckled. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, he’s obviously smitten.”

Smitten: you liked that word. You tried to be obedient and not move but everything was so interesting! Thankfully, Miss Chatterley and Elizabeth were patient as well as they were kind. After taking your measurements, Elizabeth went to start working on some dresses while Miss Chatterley found something for you to wear in the meantime. It was a gorgeous deep blue with white pearl buttons and black, lace detail on the back. While you didn’t understand the point of dresses, it was pretty.

“It’s beautiful!” You said. “I love it!”

You needed some help walking out to Thomas. Walking was already hard enough but the dress made this difficult. Why did the women on the surface torture themselves like this? But you had to be proper. Only a proper lady could win Thomas’ heart. Thomas smiled when he saw you.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“I feel beautiful if not a bit strange,” you replied. “The colors remind me of the ocean.”

“Now be careful dearest,” Miss Chatterley said, “It seems like you’ve forgotten how to walk too.”

“I’ve never walked before! I can’t forget something I never learned,” you said.

“You were right, Sir Thomas,” Miss Chatterley tutted, “That bump on the head must have really scrambled her noggin.”

“Indeed it has,” Thomas said, taking your hand, “I found her passed out and naked on the beach. I have no idea what happened to her but I vowed to make sure she was taken care of.”

That wasn’t a total lie but you were confused. Why did everyone keep talking about your head? You took the bag of jewels Thomas had been holding and reached into it. You pulled out a large sapphire and placed it in Miss Chatterley’s hand.

“Thank you for my first dress,” you said, wrapping your hand around hers. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“My dear, this is too much,” she began to protest.

“Please, take it,” you smiled, “I cannot let your kindness go unrewarded.”

“Oh goodness, thank you love,” Miss Chatterley grinned at you.

Thomas led you back out of the building, keeping a firm grip on you as you tried to walk. This was frustrating; Thomas made it look so easy.

“Here, watch my legs,” he said. “It’s one foot in front of the other.”

“It still feels peculiar,” you said, “It’s not like swimming at all. How come it’s so easy for you?”

“Well, I had to learn as well,” Thomas said, leading you back to the carriage. “You see, when humans are babies, we can’t walk at all. We start off by crawling, then we push ourselves up and start to toddle.”

“That’s fascinating! Tell me more,” you said. “Please? I want to learn more about humans. And I have questions too. Why did you tell Miss Chatterley I bumped my head?”

“Into the carriage first and then I’ll tell you more,” Thomas said.

You obeyed and got back into the carriage. It started again but instead of staring out the window, you leaned against Thomas. He tensed a bit before putting an arm around you.

“I remember you said that it was dangerous if anyone were to find out that you’re a mermaid,” he said. “So in order to not arouse suspicion, I told them you had bumped your head and gotten amnesia. It’s a condition where people lose their memory. That way no one would think you were odd for not understanding certain concepts.”

“Like dresses?”

“Yes, like dresses,” he chuckled, “Do you really dislike it?”

“No but it’s hard to move in,” you said. “But it’s what a proper lady does so I must wear one. What else does a proper lady do?”

“In all honesty, I prefer you just the way you are,” he said.

His words made your heart soar. There was so much you wanted to tell him but you remained silent. Was it proper for a woman to declare how she felt for a man or should she stay quiet? This was all confusing; why couldn’t relationships be easier?

“But what do proper ladies do?” you persisted.

“I suppose I’m the wrong person to answer that,” Thomas said with a smile. “But I suppose we could find someone to help you learn.”

“Like Miss Chatterley? She was so kind. And her daughter,” you said, “How sweet of them to make me dresses!”

“I suppose you could ask them your questions,” Thomas said as the carriage. “Alright, so this is where you’ll be staying.”

You looked out the carriage to see a large building. It was bigger than the other one and there were so many more people. As Thomas helped you out, you couldn’t stop looking at everything. Thomas led you to a human behind a large piece of wood who greeted you both.

“Hello good sir, I was hoping you would have a room for rent,” Thomas said. “I’ll be paying upfront and it’ll be for this young lady.”

“Of course sir,” the man said.

You were given a key and led to a room. Instantly, you were drawn to a large item in the middle of it. You walked over to it and touched it. Oh, it was soft. You got on top of it, finding it was also bouncy.

“What is this?” you asked Thomas.

“A bed,” Thomas said, “You sleep on it.”

“But it’s not made of coral,” you said, “And where are the fish?”

Curious, you crawled over to the edge of the bed and looked down. No, you didn’t see any fish.

“Do mermaids sleep in coral reefs?” Thomas asked.

“Yes and the fish keep us company,” you said, turning back to him, “Will I like a bed?”

“I think you will,” Thomas said smiling, “Will you be content here?”

There was something about his tone that felt off.

“You aren’t going to stay here with me, are you?”

Thomas’ smile vanished.

“I want to stay with you but--I need to keep you safe,” Thomas said, “I can’t explain it right now but there is someone in my life who wouldn't like you.”

“Why?” You asked.

How could someone dislike you if you hadn’t even met them yet? Surely you couldn’t have made this person angry without having done something to them. You waited for Thomas to say something, growing a tad frustrated. Crossing your arms, you sat on the bed and turned your head away from him.

“Y/N,” he said gently. “I have to keep you safe. I promise, I’ll come to see you everyday but for now, please stay here. Where it’s safe.”

“Fine,” you said, not looking at him.

Were you being petty? Maybe, but you came all this way for Thomas. You were risking everything. There was a chance you’d never see your father or sisters again. If Thomas didn’t love you, you’d turn into seafoam and never be able to swim again. Why couldn’t he understand that?

“You can leave now,” you added, still feeling angry.

Thomas walked to you, getting down on his knees.

“Y/N,” he said, taking your hand, “If anything were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself.”

You stole a glance at Thomas; his blue eyes were shining with sincerity. It was hard to stay angry at him when he looked at you that way. While you wished he’d stay with you, you had to trust him. Thomas was the only human you knew.

“Alright,” you said, “But you’ll come visit me right?”

“Of course,” Thomas said with a smile, “I promise to come back later for dinner but for now, stay put.”

“Okay Thomas.”

~*~

Thomas was enamored and worried at the exact same time.

Of course, he was enamored with Y/N. She was so different from the women around him. She was sweet, friendly and so curious. Constantly, she was asking questions. Other people seemed to fall under her spell as she became interested in everything around her. When he was with Y/N, all the she did was talk about the wonderful things the surface had to offer. Thomas was thankful that he could answer most of her questions.

He was worried because he knew it was only a matter of time before Lucille found out. Lucille’s anger was terrifying. Thomas had never been on the receiving end of it thankfully but he had seen it. She was also a possessive woman; if Lucille saw him with Y/N, he’s not sure what he’d do. Run? Hide her? All he knew was that protecting Y/N was of the utmost importance.

“Thomas, what are they doing?”

It was a nice, sunny day and the pair were walking along the busy streets of England. Y/N stopped to point at a four piece band, playing some music.

“They’re playing music,” He said.

He should have realized she would have been interested and Y/N walked towards the men, completely engrossed. But then she started to sing.

Ah Danny boy, the pipes,

The pipes are calling

From glen to glen,

And down the mountain side

People stopped what they were doing and started to listen to Y/N’s melodic voice. It was amazing how one voice held such power. Thomas beamed as people surrounded her to listen to her perfect voice, his heart almost bursting with joy. The more time he spent with Y/N, the deeper in love he fell. He wanted to tell her so badly how he felt but he kept stopping. He’d have to deal with Lucille first, then he could tell Y/N

Applause rang out once she finished singing. After thanking the musicians, Y/N ran back over to Thomas.

“Oh Thomas, wasn’t that wonderful?” She asked.

“Of course it was,” Thomas said. “Anytime you sing, it’s wonderful. But how did you know the words?”

“I just do,” she replied smiling, “Mermaids have the ability to know all songs but we each have a special one.”

“Like the one you sang the first night we met?” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” she smiled again, making his heart giddy. “We’re each born with a song in our heart. Candle on the Water is mine.”

“It’s a beautiful song,” Thomas said.

“Well,” she blushed, “It’s also a special song. You see---oh nevermind.”

“What? Don’t become shy now,” Thomas teased, “Tell me.”

“Merfolk find their soulmates through song,” she continued, “Our special song is supposed to connect to our soulmate and lead us to them.”

Thomas felt his heart stop. He took hold of Y/N’s hand and she stopped walking.

“By any chance, does the song work on humans?” he asked.

“I---I don’t know,” she replied, fidgeting slightly, “Is there a reason as to why you’re asking?

Thomas swallowed, staring into her eyes. He felt heat course through his body as Y/N closed her eyes and inched closer. Thomas was about to do the same when someone called his name.

“Thomas?”

Thomas’ blood went cold as he turned to see his sister. Lucille said nothing at first, staring at Y/N with a cold, calculating look. Lucille was analyzing Y/N, seeing if she was a threat. Thomas prayed that Y/N would appear weak and helpless; that was the only way she’d be safe. With a tight lipped smile, Lucille looked back at Thomas.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Oh, this is just an old acquaintance of mine,” Thomas said, laying a protective hand on Y/N. “Y/N, this is my sister Lucille.”

“A pleasure,” Y/N said curtly.

Maybe it was because their romantic moment had been ruined or she sensed Lucille’s venom but Y/N’s usually sunny dispotiston vanished. Thomas wasn’t sure if Lucille bought Thomas' lie but she continued to smile, acting as if everything was fine.

“You’ve never mentioned her before,” Lucille continued, “I would think you’d mention such a good friend of yours.”

“I’m sorry, I must be going,” Y/N said suddenly, “Good day.”

Thomas watched as Y/N bolted down the street. His heart told him to chase after her but his brain told him to stop. If he made a scene, Lucille would realize Y/N was more than a friend. It hurt him to do so but Thomas let Y/N slip away. She looked back once but her eyes were sad.

“Thomas,” Lucille said, “I thought you said you had a meeting today.”

“I did,” Thomas lied, “But the meeting ended early and as I was heading back home, I happened to run into Y/N. We were just talking, remembering the old days.”

“Thomas,” Lucille stepped closer to him, “I know when you’re lying to me. Tell me, who is she?”

“No one you need to worry about,” Thomas said. “Let’s go home.”

~*~

Thomas had mentioned Lucille to you before. She was his sister but Thomas didn’t talk of her lovingly, andhere was something off about their relationship. Thomas hadn’t stated it out right but you weren’t going to push him to talk about it. If he wanted to tell you, he would. Meeting Lucille confirmed your sucsopions about her; she was evil. There was a bad aura around her, you could feel it. Thomas had tensed up when he had heard her voice.

It had been two days since you had last seen Thomas and your heart was heavy. There was only one day left before you’d turn into seafoam. You were standing by the window, looking out towards the ocean. You missed Oberon and regretted not saying goodbye to him when you had the chance. The shell you used to call him was still around your neck, but you hadn’t used it in days. Maybe you could go say goodbye tonight. With another sigh, you grabbed your coat and headed to the door.

You were shocked to find Lucille standing there.

“Lucille,” you said, stepping back.

“Y/N,” Lucille’s voice was icy, “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh,” you touched the shell around your neck, “I’ll be leaving town soon. I was going to say goodbye to a friend.”

“How quaint,” Lucille smiled but there was no warmth to it, “And what of Thomas?”

Your heart clenched.

“I don’t want to bother him,” you said, stepping past Lucille, “Excuse me.”

Lucille grabbed your arm, twisting it and making you wince.

“Yet you’ve been bothering him,” Lucille sneered, “Instead of working, he comes here to visit you, doesn’t he? I knew he was hiding something. I know him better than he knows himself, you see. I’ve been with him since the beginning.”

“Lucille, please let go,” you said.

“He needs me,” Lucille continued. “I’m the one who has always protected him. I protected him from mother and everyone else. They tried to take him away from me but we’re meant to be together.”

“What are you talking about?” you tried to get free, “Let me go.”

“You’re a distraction, a commodity, something to entertain him,” Lucille’s eyes looked mad, “But he always comes back to me. No one loves him the way I do.”

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

“That’s disgusting!” You managed to get your hand free. “You’re his sister!”

“Who are you to judge us?” Lucille stalked towards you, “You’re a little nothing with no name, no family, no title. You’re just a mysterious whore who has bewitched my brother. How long do you think you’d hide?”

“I’m leaving,” you said, trying to get to the stairs, “I’ll forget about Thomas and never come back.”

“That’s not good enough!”

Lucille grabbed you and turned you around, a knife in her hand. Fear seized your body as she pointed it towards your neck.

“You’re coming with me.”

The streets were barren as Lucille marched you down towards the pier. Tears streamed down your face as you obeyed, your heart twisted and body hurting. Tomorrow would come and you’d be no more. Your father, your sisters and Obreon; you’d never get to see them again. It all hurt but what hurt the most was not being able to see Thomas again. What a fool you had been; all this time and you hadn’t been able to tell him.

You stumbled as you reached the docks. Lucille grabbed you by the hair, forced you up. Your legs felt weak as your bones began to fade. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you marched towards your fate. Even if you jumped into the water, you couldn’t swim for long before you transformed into seafoam. How you wished you could call Oberon but with Lucille at your back, you were afraid to make a move.

“You’re going to jump into the water and drown yourself,” Lucille commanded, “In the morning, I’ll tell Thomas that you’ve left. Saddened and heartbroken, he’ll be mine once more.”

Anger filled you; how dare she treat Thomas like an object. This wasn’t love, it was obsession. Maybe you’d die or turn into foam but you wanted to take one more risk. Just one more. Sighing, you opened up your mouth and began to sing.

I'll be your candle on the water

My love for you will always burn

I know your lost and drifting,

But the clouds are lifting

Don't give up you have somewhere to turn

“What are you doing?” Lucille pressed the knife to your back, “Stop that.”

But you didn’t stop. You kept singing. IF the legends were true, Thomas would hear you wherever you were. Even when Lucille pushed the knife into your back, you continued to sing through the pain.

“Lucille, stop!”

You turned around to see Thomas standing behind the two of you. You smiled but Lucille pushed the knife in deeper, making you cry out.

“I won’t stop until she’s dead!” Lucille shouted, “You swore you’d never fall in love with anyone else.”

“I’m sorry Lucille,” Thomas took a step forward, “I---I heard her song.”

It was true. Thomas was your soulmate. Your song had reached him and he had used it to find you. Lucille looked confused but only for a second. Enraged, she took the knife out of your back and you slumped down, unable to stand. The loss of blood and your body changing was too much to bear.

“Are you saying you love her?” Lucille asked.

“Yes,” Thomas got closer, “Lucille, I fell in love with her the moment I heard her song.”

Lucille stared at Thomas, bewildered. Her grip was still on the knife and you realized something; once you were dead, she’d kill Thomas. With what little strength you had, you grabbed the shell and placed it to your lips. Lucille knocked the shell out of your hand and raised the knife to stab you again. You heard Thomas shout her name but it was no use; she was in a blind rage.

“This is all your fault!” she shouted.

Closing your eyes, you braced for impact. Then you heard bubbling in the water. The knife fell from Lucille’s hand and you opened your eyes to see a familiar tentacle. Lucille backed away, terrified as Oberon came out from the depths, his golden eyes filled with anger. The octopus lashed out and grabbed her by the waist, tossing her up like she weighed nothing. Thomas ran to your side, watching as Oberon broke Lucille’s waist. Once she was dead, Oberon threw her into the ocean and got closer to the dock.

“Oh, Oberon,” you said sadly, “I missed you. I’m so sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

“No,” Thomas grabbed your hand. “Y/N, please don’t talk like that.”

“I’m sorry Thomas,” you said, pressing your head to his. “I’m too late. I never told you that I love you.”

“Too late? What do you mean?”

“She’s talking about the price for her legs,” a familiar voice said.

You turned around to see Oberon held Morwenna the sea witch on one tentacle. The crab woman stepped onto the dock and walked over to you.

“Morwenna?” you asked.

“You see,” Morwenna crouched down, “For a merfolk to stay on the surface with their human love, they must confess their feelings and those feelings must be recioprated. If not, they turn into seafoam.”

“What? Y/N, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Thomas asked.

“I didn’t want you to fake your feelings,” you said, “But it’s okay. I made peace with what is going to happen to me.”

“Oh, you needn’t be dramatic dear,” Morwenna reached into a pouch around her waist, “You won’t be going anywhere. Here, eat this.”

Morwenna offered you a pearl and you popped it into your mouth. It burst, releasing a bitter liquid into your mouth. You gagged.

“What was that?” Thomas asked.

“For her wound,” Morwenna said. “Now, stand up dear.”

Your confusion was growing but Morwenna seemed so calm. Thomas stood up and offered his hand. You took it and found your legs were working. In fact, they felt firm.

“I don’t understand,” you said, “I was too late.”

“No, you weren’t,” Morwenna grinned, pointing to Thomas, “His confession saved you.”

“It did? So, can I stay?” you turned to Thomas, “With you?”

“Y/N,” Thomas caressed your face, “From the moment I saw you, I adored you. I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I loved you for days but I was too afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” you asked.

“Afraid of rejection, afraid Lucille would find you,” he said, “But now she’s gone. Please Y/N, stay with me. I love you.”

Oberon suddenly burbled, his big, round eyes tinged with sadness.

“Oh Oberon,” you smiled at him, “I’ll never forget you, how could I? You saved us both. I will visit you, I promise. But my home is on the surface now.”

Oberon reached out his tentacle and rubbed your face. He then playfully grabbed Thomas' hat, pushing it down on his face.

“He’s saying he trusts you,” you told Thomas.

“Well then,” Thomas fixed his hat, “Thank you Oberon. I promise I’ll keep her safe, no matter what the costs.”

“Happy endings all around,” Morwenna said, “I’m so happy things worked out for you dear.”

“But it wouldn’t have been possible without you,” you said, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“No thanks are necessary,” Morwenna walked back towards the sea, “I’ll tell your father you're safe. He’ll probably come to visit so be on the lookout. Farewell you two.”

You waved goodbye as Morwenna climbed onto Oberon’s head and they departed. When they were gone, you turned to Thomas.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you too,” he returned.

And finally, you kissed him.

#Rootbeer Writes #Crimson Peak #Crimson Peak AU #Sir Thomas Sharpe #Thomas Sharpe #Thomas Sharpe x Reader #Female Reader #Self Insert #tw: incest mention #mermaid #AU

7 notes · View notes

ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

Day 11

Prompt: Pick your favorite soulmate AU and write about it. For this, I’ve chosen to do: ‘Everyone is born with a ring on their finger that changes color with your soulmate’s mood, turning pink when you touch for the first time. When they die, the ring turns black and falls off, turning to dust.’ Combined with a Reincarnation AU.

Word Count: 4,186

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

He sat on his mat, legs curled beneath him. His eyes strained to see in the dim light provided by the moon. Even so, he was only looking for one thing and he knew exactly where it should be. Staring at his hands, he used one to gently feel around the other, desperate to know it was a dream. The searching hand found what it wanted and it flew to his mouth, stifling the horrified gasp that surely would have woken his sister if he’d let it out.

Carefully, he stood and made his way to stand by the window, the ashes of his soul ring cupped in his palm. He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks but he did nothing to wipe them away, instead focusing on keeping his grief quiet. His sister would learn in the morning but this was his burden to carry, not hers.

Even so, he stood there, staring at the remnants of his soulmate and mourning for a person he never got to meet nor love, long enough for the sun to come up. His sister shifted in her sleep before waking, rolling to find a warmth that wasn’t there. ‘Brother?’ She called out, voice heavy with sleep.

He turned back to the room, a smile breaking behind the tears. ‘It’s alright, I’m here.’

She nodded, curling back into the warmth of the mat. ‘Cows need to be milked.’

‘I’ll do that.’ He walked to the table and grabbed a cheese cloth, gently laying the ashes in the center and folding it up, storing it in his pocket before he went to milk the cows while the dew was still wet on the grass and the air was still heavy with mist. That night, he took some leftover fabric and sewed a pocket into the inside of his shirt. There, he stored the ashes close to his heart, living with them and the memory until his own death.”

“She sat on the throne, looking out over the court. Glancing down at her soul ring, she saw it turn a seething red of anger. In this instant, she was inclined to agree with the soulmate she’d never met. In her youth, she’d dreamed of adventuring and meeting him, knowing he was out there somewhere. She’d always been excited to travel to other kingdoms, even if it meant pretending to look for suitors. She’d always glanced around every corner, hoping that was the one he’d be behind.

That was her youth. She’d wasted it searching for someone who was outside her range of travel. She’d thrown it away for the silly notion of love and soulmates, not realizing that that was something only the common folk got to have. So, she’d eventually settled down with a nice, if dull, prince that made a strong alliance with the vulnerable kingdom next door. It had been a happy life, if as dull as her husband.

She looked out over the crowd, the soldiers standing in her court, the foreigners who had the audacity to invade her kingdom and slaughter her husband right in front of her. Suddenly, her trusted lady-in-waiting came up beside her, leaning to speak in her ear. ‘A word, my queen?’

She looked at her for a moment, trusting with her life. Bowing her head, she rose and stepped behind the curtain that led to a small room off to the side. Her lady-in-waiting’s smile was tinged with sadness as she adjusted her spectacles before smoothing out the queen’s pale blue dress. ‘I have something to confess, my queen.’ She was startled but nodded for her to continue. ‘My soul ring turned pink the first time we met. I suspect yours did too but it was hidden under your gloves.’

Before she could fully process that her soulmate was her lady-in-waiting, her best friend, her closest confidant, the door was ripped open and the men were forcing their way in. The next instant, red met blue as life faded from one set of eyes while tears sprang to another set. Soon, black was fluttering to the ground to mix with the red, purple pooling beneath knees as sharp cries of anguish wrent the air.”

“He pulled on the back of a shirt, saving the man from slipping on the ground slick with drink. The war was over and many were celebrating, but not him. After all, he had nothing to celebrate. There would always be more hate, more violence, more bloodshed in the world. So, he did his best to help where he could but he mainly just stayed out of the way.

The man smiled and sat opposite him, not talking but looking at his hands. Looking back up, he looked into his eyes and smiled again. ‘I guess I should say hello, soulmate.’

He shushed him, hunching in on himself and trying to keep his hands hidden. ‘Are you really trying to get us arrested?’

The joy in his eyes faded. ‘Right. Those stupid laws are still in effect.’

He nodded. ‘I guess we should say goodbye.’

His soulmate reached out, hands brushing. ‘Does it have to be so soon? Are we not allowed to at least enjoy each other’s company for a few minutes?’

He looked at him, cynicism in his eyes. ‘Is it better to have gotten to know each other, to have loved and lost, to carry that ache across the years until age or circumstances rids the earth of us? Or is it better to have met, to have known the other existed, and gone on our separate ways before getting attached?’

His soulmate looked down into his drink, his hand retreating.’“You’re right, of course. I just thought it’d be nice. To have memories to hang onto, to know something about the person made for you. I’ve only gotten to know you in one other life and you already seem so different. Forgive me for being excited to know you in this life.’

It was his turn to reach out, to take his hand, to gently brush his thumb over the back of his hand. ‘I know. I wish that were possible too. But we both know it’s not. We both know that society and circumstances have not made it to be so. All we can do is wait for our next lives and hope they are better than this one.’

He nodded, giving his hand a tender squeeze before standing and disappearing into the crowds. They never met again in that life but he looked back on that conversation fondly and wept when his ring turned to ash.”

~~~

“The boy in front of him glared, not backing down. ‘No! You leave him alone, you big bully!’

He looked to the larger, older boy in front of his protector. This one was mean looking and was clearly not going to leave them alone until he got what he wanted. So, he pulled on his protector’s sleeve, gaining his attention. As he did so, he could feel the memories of three other lives settle into place, memories of this boy as a stately handmaiden and as a grizzled soldier sitting next to the memory of mourning someone he had yet to meet and never had in that life.

He stumbled slightly, his protector and soulmate catching him. The older boy pushed past them, grabbing the thing he wanted and leaving them there. He curled into his soulmate, clinging tightly. ‘Don’t leave! Please, don’t leave me!’ He cried, knowing what it meant to be alone.

His soulmate shushed him gently, pulling him closer. ‘Of course not. I’ll always be here for you.’

His soulmate couldn’t have possibly known that he would get adopted the very next week, leaving him alone once again. Another life went by, longingly staring at the shifting colors on his ring and hoping to see his face in the streets. He never did see him again in that life.”

~~~~

“He walked across the busy road, shoes slapping against the cobblestones in his haste to get to the other side. He glanced back to see someone crossing just behind him. Looking back up, a large carriage with a mean-looking driver came straight at the intersection.

On instinct, he turned back, pushing the man behind him out of the way. He had just enough time to see their soul rings turn pink, tears gathering in his soulmate’s eyes, before he was trampled under the horses hooves.

He lay staring at the sky, his whole body aching as he struggled to breath. Someone knelt next to him, hands coming to either side of his face. ‘What’s your name?’ His soulmate asked desperately.

He didn’t have time to respond, his hand curling into his soulmate’s shirt as the light slipped from his eyes.”

~~~~~

“She stood at the stove, feeling the heat on her skin with her mind elsewhere. It was across the street, with the pretty housewife that looked so nice in pale purple, the one that made her ring turn pink. She’d known what that’d meant when they’d met, everyone knew what that meant. That didn’t mean anything in this world, where fate was cruel but society was crueler. So, there she stood, staring at the liquid bubbling on the stove while she thought of the smile that should have been for her, the laughter that always rang out the loudest when she told a joke.

The front door opened and she knew her husband was home. The one her parents had said she’d have to marry, the one who’d asked for her hand for the prestige and children. She glanced at the knife beside her, head running wild with thoughts of taking the meat cleaver to her husband’s skull and running off with her soulmate.

Instead, she picked up the ladle and sampled the soup, knowing the whim would never work. So, she lived her life, looking at her love over the garden gate, so close but too far.”

~~~~~~

“He set his bag down, looking around at the boarding school. He saw a lone boy, sitting off to the side. Thinking this was a good opportunity to make a friend, he walked over and tried to introduce himself. ‘Hi! I’m new here!’

The boy looked up at him, barely taking his attention from the book in his hands. ‘That’s nice.’

He was undeterred. ‘I’m-’

The boy shut the book with a snap. ‘I’m not interested in knowing anyone. I’m not here to make friends, and I don’t care what your name is.’ With that, he stood and walked away.

He didn’t get the chance to talk to him again until graduation. Even then, it was only briefly as the upperclassman shook his hand. He watched as their rings turned pink. Soon, the ceremony was over and he was running after the boy. ‘Wait!’

He sighed but did as asked, turning in his path to allow him to catch up. When he did, the older boy spoke first. ‘So, we’re soulmates. Do you think that changes anything?’

He shook his head, having grown from the naive boy he’d been. ‘No, I know it doesn’t. All I ask is that you give me a call if you do change your mind.’ He handed him a card with the number to his father’s law office that he was set to inherit.

The boy nodded and took the card. ‘Fine, I can make that deal. Don’t be disappointed if you never get a call from me.’

He waited for that phone to ring but knew it was useless the second his ring turned to ash in the middle of a courtroom. He had to excuse himself to wrap the ashes in a handkerchief, storing it near his heart and wiping tears away for the boy he’d never gotten to love.”

~~~~~~~

“She’d been going about her evening as usual, preparing a cup of tea, when a frantic knocking could be heard at her door. She put her mug down, pulling a shawl around her shoulders as she approached the door. ‘Who is it?’ She called.

Looking at her soul ring, she recognized the pale gray of desperation and hurried to yank it open, knowing what had happened. She’d met her soulmate a few years ago and knew just by looking at her that it was a clearly platonic relationship. The old woman held her arms out for the young teen that soon buried herself in her arms. ‘It’s storming again, Auntie.’

She laughed softly, petting the skittish girl’s hair as she ushered her inside. ‘I know dear. I’m sorry I didn’t expect you to be coming over. Would you like a cup of tea?’

The teen finally pulled away, curling around a pillow on the sofa. ‘That’d be nice, thank you.’

She nodded and moved to make another cup, her thoughts wandering. This was their ninth time together but the only one they’d ever known each other for besides their second life. She would never know if any of those were meant to be platonic or romantic but they sure were treasured.

She finished making the cup and came to sit beside her soulmate. The teen uncurled slightly, the blanket around her shoulders staying in place but the pillow in her lap sliding down a bit. ‘I used to love thunderstorms you know?’

‘Was that in a past life or in this one?’ The older woman sat in her rocker, pulling a blanket over her lap and picking up the knitting from the basket.

‘The first life. The rain never really got that intense in the mountains, so we only really saw the lightning from afar. It felt like a treat every time that happened.’

She hummed. ‘That must have been nice.’ She’d been indifferent to thunderstorms in all but one life and that was for a reason unrelated to the soul before her.

Their evening progressed as usual. The teen sipped her tea and calmed her nerves before picking up the book she’d been reading to the older woman, quickly flipping to where they’d stopped last and picking up from there. It was a quiet night, one of peace and little excitement. Then again, that was how she preferred it.”

~~~~~~~~

“He was looking through books, eyes scanning the spines. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for but he knew he’d know it when he found it. He looked with a fervor few would understand, as if he were drowning and the next book to catch his attention would be the air he needed. So, his finger trailed along the spines, checking how each book made him feel before he moved onto the next one, desperate for a book to catch his attention long enough for him to decide to check it out of the library.

He didn’t see the person until he’d run into her. Backing away quickly, he apologized. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.’

She just shrugged, bending to pick up the book she’d dropped. Her eyes paused on her hand. Looking down, he saw the pink soul ring. He smiled, bending down to help. ‘I guess I should be saying hello too.’

She giggled, a bubbling laugh that was sweet as sugar. ‘There’s no need for that.’ They both straightened up and she tucked her short hair behind her ear. ‘How about you just tell me what you’re looking so desperately for instead?’

He nodded. ‘I was simply looking for something to touch my very soul. Something so mind provoking or heart wrenching that it would surely evoke some sort of reaction from me.’

‘You use awfully big words there.’ Her hand bunched in her skirt as she stood, as if she didn’t want it there and would have much preferred trousers.

‘There are times where large words are needed to convey large or complex ideas.’ He’d gotten into using the largest words he could whenever he could as it kept his family from pulling him out of a book to ask a question.

She smiled. ‘That is true. There are many concepts that are easier to grasp using the harder words. However, it is also easier to use smaller words in order to fully engage with an audience. Do you concur?’

Thus, they spent the rest of the day getting to know each other. Sadly, he never saw her again when she left. A few weeks later, his soul ring turned to ash. The next day’s paper spoke of a woman going about in men’s clothes and being killed for it. He remembered the way his soulmate held himself in the skirt, the way he kept his hair as short as he was allowed and knew that his soulmate’s fate had just been told to him.”

~~~~~~~~~

Virgil closed the book and had to sit back in his chair. “Oh, shit.” He muttered.

Remus looked up from his drawing. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing. This book just described my past life in complete detail as far as my soulmate knew.”

Remus nodded, pausing his search for the perfect red. “That sounds like your soulmate wrote it. Do you remember anything from the other lives?”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I’m lucky I remember that one. After all, most people don’t remember their past lives until they’ve met their soulmate.”

“That’s true. Do you know who wrote it?”

“Yeah.” Virgil flipped the book over to look at the author’s name. “Logan Ackroyd.”

Remus pulled his phone out and did a simple search, pulling up a video first. He moved from his spot on the floor to come sit beside his friend. He pressed play on the video, an interview with the author after his most recent book came out.

“Tell me, Mr. Ackroyd, how do you come up with your stories?”

The man in the blue suit that Virgil would not admit was incredibly handsome laughed. “I actually get some scenes from my dreams. Most of my stories started as a scene midway through the plot that I then had to scramble to come up with the rest of the story for.”

“What do you do with the idea once you have it?”

“I generally will write it down as soon as I can so as not to lose it. Then, I’ll try to figure out what led the characters there and where they would go from it. Using that as a jumping point, I’ll then plan out the whole novel with a messy outline. That outline gets cleaned up before I start working on the actual piece of literature.”

“So you do think your work counts as literature?”

He sighed. “Literature is a word used to describe anything that has been written down. The word is generally used today to refer to great works of writing but the original usage of the word is still in effect today. Nevertheless, my writing has merit and is not to be discounted simply due to it being primarily same sex romance.”

The interviewer nodded. “Of course. My apologies, Mr. Ackroyd.”

The video ended and Remus went back to the previous tab, scrolling through the search. “It says here he’s having a book signing at the local bookstore in a few days. It’s a walk in kind of thing. He also doesn't seem to be a big name just yet so it’s a good chance you’ll be able to meet him.”

Virgil bobbed his head side to side as he thought. “Yeah, or it could turn out to be a major coincidence and I embarrass myself in front of a bunch of people.”

Remus sighed. “Best case scenario?”

“We’ll be soulmates and we can live a life together.”

“Worst case scenario?”

“He’s not my soulmate and I get mocked and humiliated in front of a large crowd.”

“Most likely to happen?”

Virgil scrunched his nose. “I’ll wimp out and just get a book signed, not even mentioning soulmates.”

Remus nodded. “Good. Shoot for the best case, understand most likely could happen, don’t think about the worst case.”

Virgil emptied his lungs in one long breath before sucking air back in. “Okay. I can do this.” He shook his head once before he opened the book back to the front cover. “Time to reread this whole thing in two days.”

“Dude! That’s a really thick book!”

Virgil smiled. “I used to be able to go through books twice this size in that same time span. It’ll be fine.”

True to his word, Virgil finished the book in time for the signing. He went to the bookstore cafe combo and watched the staff set up the book signing area. The line wasn’t too long as it was so he finished his drink before joining it.

As he stood there, his eyes were drawn to his soul ring. He’d never paid much attention to it in his life but now he was trying desperately to take his mind off his anxiety. So, he put his feet on autopilot and let his mind rattle around trying to remember the meaning for the soul ring colors. His ring was blue, which meant that his soulmate was calm.

He got to the front of the line and moved to place his book on the table, only for Logan to reach for it at the same time. Their hands brushed and their eyes locked as the object passed between them. In that one moment, Virgil remembered all his past lives, from the city boy who’d died too early to a trans man whose life was taken from him.

Logan was the first one to pull back, a small gasp escaping his lips at the rush of memories, each lining up with a book he’d written. He blinked, shaking his head as he tried to reorient himself. “May I know who I’m signing this to?” He asked as he opened the book to the front page.

“Virgil Dolle.” His hands twisted together as he tried to stop himself from being too overwhelmed by the rush of memories.

Logan nodded, writing something on a pair of notecards as well as signing the book. One notecard was stuck into the book, the other going into the pocket designed to hold the soul ring ashes. “Alright, Virgil, have a great day.” He handed the book back with a smile.

Virgil walked off, still dazed. Having been here before, the feet that had yet to be taken off autopilot took him to his favorite nook for reading. He curled up in it and looked at the autograph and notecard. The autograph read, ‘To my soulmate, Virgil Dolle. May you have as much joy reading this as I did writing it, Logan Ackroyd.’

His handwriting was strong and sure, no ink blots to show hesitance. Virgil decided he liked it. Picking up the notecard, he read that too. ‘I’m sorry I took so long to find you. It’s almost silly that you were right under my nose the whole time. I hope you can stay long enough for me to finish this and we can have a proper talk.’

Virgil smiled as he put the notecard back in the book. He decided to stay as he scanned the shelves to his left, looking for anything that caught his eye. He remembered that he’d found Logan’s book on this very shelf and a fondness filled his heart. He waited there for a few hours, playing games on his phone, browsing books, and getting up occasionally to order a drink or snack and silently let Logan know he was still there.

He was back in his nook, scrolling through a fanfiction and eating a honey-glazed bun when Logan appeared in his line of sight. He sat down beside him and stretched, his arms reaching above his head. Virgil giggled. “Long day?” He asked, his earlier nerves nowhere to be found as he was perfectly content in this space with someone he’d known for a thousand years.

Logan groaned. “The longest.” He laid his head on Virgil’s shoulder as Virgil turned off his phone and placed his snack on a napkin. They stayed like that for a minute, just soaking in the company neither had known they’d missed until they’d found it again.

Finally, Logan sat up. “Tell me about yourself.”

Virgil smiled. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything you’re willing to share. I want to know you and be known by you, I want to see what I’ve been missing the whole time we’ve been apart. I want to love you the way I was never allowed to love you. I want to know everything you have to say about a topic, your opinions on things, I want to know how your brain works.” Logan shrugged. “I want to know about you.”

Virgil smiled. “Well, I guess my birth is a good place to start.”

So, they stayed in that bookstore café for a few more hours, telling each other their life stories and how they’d been caused to meet. They exchanged numbers and talked for hours on end about anything and everything, trying to make up for lost time.

#tsshipmonth2020 #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #mentions of homophobia #mentions of transphobia #mentions of death #allusions to blood #ace writes

93 notes · View notes

irwinkitten · 4 years

Text

into the night | ii | demon!sos

pairing: demon!ashton x nb!angel!oc (with a side of demon!michael x black fae!oc) notes: so this isn’t as long as part one was (oops) however, i lowkey loved writing this and creating this world. this part focuses on ashton, however we get a glimpse of michael (who will be the next part and final part i hope) also thank u to my twin for checking over this and catching my errors!! lovee u @sexgodashton word count: 5.7k

part one

donate to my ko-fi?

Time was much kinder to Roe and Marcella than their coven.

The first decade, the coven had their own struggles. There’d been enough times when hunters had nearly decimated them all because there was word about two demons in the midst of witches.

It was the first time Roe had ever invoked sacrificial protection for the betterment of her coven, and the guilt had weighed heavy on her for years afterwards.

True to her father's word, Calum and Luke had remained with the coven, an added layer of protection as they continued with their lives. They acted as liaison, to reap the souls that were not willing to pay their debts, the ones that Michael and Ashton had no time to seek and collect.

Ashton and Michael traversed through often enough, finally becoming comfortable enough with Marcella and Roe to let their guards down with them.

Gem had wormed her way into their hearts too, the elder witch having accepted them with ease. More often than not, there would be a point in the week where any of the four demons would sit talking with her, asking about her knowledge, her life.

A witch's knowledge was sacred, it taught the new generations of the Old Magicks, curses and spells. It taught them how to defend, to care for. But these stories Gem told the four demons, taught them how to open a side of them that they’d believed they’d lost the day they’d sold themselves to the King.

Ashton sat with Gem on such an occasion, his eyes studying the way her fingers tapped the porcelain cup.

“Your time is coming, you realise?” Her voice was quiet, Ashton could only nod. “She’ll fight it. She’s a stubborn witch.”

“It’s her right to rule. I know his predecessor was murdered, but he knows that he wants his kingdom in good hands. If it wasn’t for the fact that Calum finalised the bond with her, he’d have snatched Roe years ago.” Gem sighed as she finished her tea, her eyes searching the tea leaves.

“They just read change every damn time.”

Ashton looked up from his own cup, staring at Gem in shock at the frustrated tone that had left her lips.

Over the last decade, he’d only heard her raise her voice a handful of times. Each one was warranted, but he still knew that the normally calm witch only showed the frustrations when things were going south.

“Gem?” Old eyes met his and he could see the years of experience and the years of loss as a lone tear escaped.

“I can’t make heads or tails of what’s going to happen, Ashton. Too much needs to be decided and she will fight it, every step of the way.”

He sighed as he set his cup down, nodding his head before letting his fingers push through his black curls. That change had come a few years previous when Roe had made a passing comment to the demon when he’d shown up with a mild disguise on. She’d told him that black hair certainly looked better on him and so he’d decided that he needed a change and the black hair became permanent.

“He’s expecting her to rebel. He doesn’t want to put too much pressure on Calum, knowing she’ll readily destroy herself to protect him from the Kings plans.”

“So he’s putting the pressure on you?”

“Yes and no. My jobs are no different, but I’m feeling the pressure of doing what needs to be done. He doesn’t accept failure.” Carefully, his fingers peeled up his shirt sleeve and Gem gasped in shock at the darkened welts on his skin.

“He didn’t.” The older witch breathed, her eye unable to tear them from him.

“You can not heal them, Gem.” He warned as her fingers reached out, touching the delicate skin.

“Watch me.” She snapped back in return, eyes refocusing before the spell left her lips.

He watched in amazement as the skin on his arm knitted itself back together, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

“He dares go for you again, tell him to start a fight with me.” The older witch snapped. And Ashton couldn’t help but smile as his fingers reached out, squeezing her arm gently.

“I’d look forward to the day where I see a demon, and the king of hell no less, get forced to submit to a witch.” Ashton murmured, earning a smirk from Gem.

“Where do you think our Roe learned it from?” Her words made him chuckle as a knock on the door interrupted them. Michael’s head stuck around the corner and Ashton tensed.

“We need to go. There’s unrest. An Angel appeared.” Ashton was on his feet swiftly, but bowed shortly to Gem before following Michael out. Gem chuckled.

For all his posturing, his upbringing was one he never seemed to let go of once he realised that he had a safety net in the house.

Following Michael outside, they made the journey through the shadows, landing not far from the ostentatious palace where the King held court. His actual home was elsewhere, along with the offices that he used to keep things in check, but the palace was one to be used as a decoy. Ashton was certain that only six others, including himself, knew where the King lived and four of them lived above in the human realm.

“What’s going on?” His voice carried as he stepped through. Demons fell silent, their resentful eyes staring at the two as they strode through.

That had been another downside to stepping up. Demons who were ambitious often killed their competitors. However, the King had made himself clear over the last decade. Anyone who touched Ashton or Michael, paid the price.

“The Angel bitch appeared out of nowhere, sir.” One of the younger demons commented, the sneer firm on his lips. Ashton held back his sigh of annoyance.

“Someone with a fucking brain cell, tell me what happened?” He snapped out and murmurs slipped through the gathered crowd before they parted. Ashton felt his heart tremble as the beaten and bloody body of the angel lay crumpled in a heap, the wings out and almost shredded with claws.

Michael scoffed as he made his way over.

“Who dragged the angel down here?” Ashton’s mind was frozen as Michael tilted the angel onto their back and memories from his human life hit him hard as the face fitted itself into his memories.

“She just appeared on the floor. No one dragged the bitch.” The first demon spoke and Ashton’s hand snapped out, his fingers closing slowly into a fist until he heard the demon gasp and struggle for air.

“You might think that they are our mortal enemies thanks to Belize, but trust me when I say working relationships exist between Heaven and Hell. Continue to call them a bitch and watch what happens. And for your troubles, they are a they, not a she.” He snapped, his fingers releasing and the demon struggled for air, his heaving breaths giving Ashton a vindictive satisfaction.

Their body was limp, but Ashton could hear the shallow, rattling breaths escape their lips, and he knew he needed to act to save their life.

With a jolt, he realised things were different compared to the last time that he saw them. And he felt like he was in some sort of cliche moment as he carefully picked up the angel, ignoring how the jolt slid down his arms when his fingers brushed their skin.

“Michael, inform his highness what has happened and clean up.” Ashton instructed and Michael nodded, turning around to kick the other demons from the palace. Ashton waited for a moment before he disappeared and he knew that he needed somewhere safe for the angel.

The sun hit his skin as he arrived, glancing up to the house before whistling loudly.

Calum came barrelling out first, followed by Marcella and then Gem.

“Ashton?” Calum’s eyes questioned the being in his arms, but he shook his head.

“They’re an angel, I can’t give them treatment below, it’ll kill them. I wouldn’t normally ask, but they-”

“They’re important to you.” Gem murmured as Marcella murmured a few spells and her face dropped.

“Get inside, use the room that you left Luke and I in.” She instructed and Ashton followed behind Gem who guided the two of them whilst Marcella yelled for other witches.

They came down at their calls, a couple scowling as they spotted Ashton, but he paid them no mind as he settled the angel on the bed, his fingers brushing the shoddily cropped hair with a sigh.

“What did they do to you?” He whispered before stepping back when Marcella returned with Roe in tow.

“Ashton?” Her tone was gentle as she held her hand out to him and he turned away from the angel, ignoring the stretched out hand before leaving the house, his own magic itching as he settled outside. He knew things were going to change and he knew he couldn’t leave.

“Fuck.” He lay out on the grass, arm over his eyes as he tried to keep his frustration from exploding outwards.

It was silent apart from the mutterings coming from within the house. Then a door closed and he growled in a warning.

“Pack it in.” Gem snapped as she sat herself next to him, his arm moving to see the older witch sat with an air of regality on the grass. He immediately felt bad, knowing the older witch sometimes struggled to move with ease.

“Had I known I would’ve been followed, I’d have stood.” He muttered and Gem snorted.

“Or you would’ve just disappeared.” She countered and he grimaced as his arm dropped from his face, sitting up to face Gem.

“I can’t.” He whispered and she stared at him hard. It felt like she was examining his soul, or what was left of it. And he looked away.

“There’s a bond, isn’t there?” Ashton knew that she knew the answer, but was still demanding him to vocalise it. And had it been anyone else, he’d have told them to fuck off.

But it was Gem. The witch who healed him despite the Kings deliberate mutilation to remind him of his place. The witch who reminded him of his humanity, who helped him find those memories from so long ago.

“Yes.” He finally whispered.

They sat there in silence before a blast of magic washed over the two of them and Ashton scrambled to his feet before helping Gem up. She smiled gently at him, patting his hand before following him through.

“Fucking angels.” Sapphire muttered as she left the room, rubbing a spot on her arm. Ashton snarled at her which made her pale before glancing to Gem and hurrying away.

“Peace, Ashton. It’s because the angel's version of magic is so very different.” Gem soothed the agitated demon. But it didn’t settle him until he entered the room and saw them laying more settled in the bed, their face free from the marks that had stunned him the first time around.

“Fucking angelic magic thinking it’s better than ours.” Roe muttered as she helped up Marcella who sighed.

“Don’t forget, our magic is tainted by our mates. Is it any wonder their magic reacted so violently?” Marcella chided and Roe stuck her tongue out before she spotted Ashton.

“You couldn’t have bonded to a human or a faerie, or even a bloody werewolf! You had to go and bond to a fucking angel.” He knew she was teasing, but his body tensed. Sensing the change in his mood, Roe held her hands up in a surrender position.

“How are they?”

“You need to find out what happened to them for me to fully heal them. We’ve got the superficial damage fixed, but there are curses locked in that I can’t touch until I know the origin. Ashton, how did you come by this angel?” Marcella’s tone was curious and he sighed as he took a seat next to the bed, feeling his chest ease now he was in proximity to them.

“They had been dumped on the floor of the palace. Which reminds me, Roe, you’ll have to start the transition soon before the younger demons start to revolt. The elders refuse to teach the little bastards.” Roe sighed.

“I just need to figure shit out first, but it’ll happen. Calum managed to finally convince me.” She muttered and he smiled gratefully at her.

“Go and rest, I’ll watch over them for now.” Roe left but Marcella hesitated.

“I’ll be fine.” He murmured and she shook her head.

“They weren’t in the best condition and we don’t know if our magic has aggravated it. The best thing you can do is make sure they’re comfortable so their own magic can help their body.” she instructed calmly before passing him a cloth. “If you notice a fever, use this to cool them down, it’s imbued with cooling charms to help so you don’t have to leave their side. Call for me when they wake up and I can get a better diagnosis.” Without another word, Marcella left, the door closing behind her.

He knew that both of them would’ve returned to their mates. The magic was enough that they would be tired.

The door opened once more and Gem stepped in, two cups of tea floating beside her as she sat on the chair which resided on the other side of the bed.

Ashton didn’t question her as the second cup of tea floated to his side.

“We might as well continue our little chat, especially since our Roe has seemingly made a decision.” Gem commented quietly and Ashton smiled at the older witch, his hands clasping the cup.

“I guess we should. Do you think that Roe is truly ready to work the compromise so that she can run the coven whilst keeping an eye on Hell?” Ashton’s words were curious and Gem smiled.

“She’s ruled long enough with an iron fist with this coven. They won’t know what to expect with her, one because she’s female but two because she has witches blood and she’s not afraid to exploit that for her own personal gains. I think she’ll make a fantastic Queen, and with Calum ruling by her side, the younger demons will quickly realise that the hierarchy exists for a reason.”

—

When they woke up with a gasp, Ashton was there, his eyes haunted yet considerate.

“You’re safe.” He murmured and their eyes were confused, the tiredness evident as he studied them.

“Ashton? But, you died centuries ago.” Their tone was suspicious despite the confusion. A wry smile appeared on his lips at their words.

“It’s what you get for falling in love with an angel.” He murmured, his eyes darkening. The hazel deepened before it fully transitioned to black and understanding dawned on the angel’s face.

“Demon.” They murmured softly and he nodded.

“You were dropped in the palace and left for dead. What happened?” The grimace told a lot more than he expected, but they seemed to weigh up the options before sighing.

“When word got out, about us, mercenaries were sent after you.”

“I remember. They’re the reason I became what I am.” His tone was dry and they shot him an apologetic look.

“They didn’t expect you to fight back, but I warned them. I warned them that you were of noble blood and had been raised to know how to fight. They watched me for a century after that. I couldn’t function. You’d died and my heart had gone.”

His heart clenched and stopped himself from reaching out to them, to offer a form of comfort.

“Were they watching to make sure you didn’t do something drastic?” They snorted.

“I was the angel who fell in love with a human. They refuted my claims of soulmate because angels only mate with other angels.” The scorn dripping from their tone surprised Ashton. As memories began to slot into place, he remembered bits and pieces.

“Did he forbid it?” And they shook their head, choppy hair falling into their eyes. A trembling hand moved to grasp it and Ashton watched as tears filled their eyes.

He silently realised that the change in hairstyle was not a personal choice on their part.

“He would’ve blessed it had he known. Had I not hidden it from him. He had me helping the lost souls, as a penance but also because I understood. Then Ariale, he tried so hard, but I couldn’t move on from you. He got angry, bitter.” Ashton closed his eyes.

“And then I appeared in the human realm, didn’t I?”

“They weren’t sure it was you until this year. Word spread that you had climbed the ranks but no one knew how much. I was forbidden.”

“You were my mate in my human life and they wouldn’t risk the bond carrying over to this life.” Ashton figures out the unspoken words. Tears were in their eyes as they took in a trembling breath.

“Ariale demanded judgement. That was when I learned one of his brothers-”

“Was the one that I killed as a human.” He closed his eyes, anger and frustration bubbling up. Ashton never felt violent towards Angels; he couldn’t after he started unlocking his human life. But the burning anger made him want to go to the high heavens and demand their own trials.

“Yes. They demanded my judgement for your actions since I’d claimed you as my soulmate.” His heart sank.

“Judgement deemed you guilty on behalf of my actions.”

“I begged with him, cried that it wasn’t fair. He told me the judgement had been made but he would not cast me from the heavens. He would send me to my mate. Ariale got hold of me first.”

Ashton couldn’t hold back his snarl of anger. How dare they claim righteousness yet hurt one of their own in such a way? He was furious.

“What did Ariale do?” His eyes held theirs and he watched as they winced as they moved.

“You saw my wings. There are some curses embedded as well. I cannot complete our bond, it’ll kill both of us most likely or just me. He was a bitter angel about me not moving on.” Ashton could only silently promise to end this bitter Angel's life if ever he crossed paths with him.

“I brought you to a coven of witches who, well a handful I consider friends. Roe is going to want to know the curses and Marcella won’t stand for your curse to prevent you completing the bond.” He held his hand out to them, resting it palm facing up on the bed.

“Ashton-”

“No,” he interrupted, “we were denied when I was human. I refuse to let some fucking asshole of an angel ruin it for us now. You’re mine.” He surprised himself at the ferocity of his words, but the look of relief of their face spoke volumes for him.

“Let me speak to the witches first. They need a fair idea of what to work with.” They finally whispered as they rested their hand in his.

He didn’t hesitate to bring their knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to them.

“Your will is mine. I’ll track them down and see what I can do. Rest for now, you’re safe.” He waited until they had settled back and fallen asleep. It was easy to track down Gem, and thankfully Roe and Marcella were with her.

“They’ve woken up. We’ve spoken a little and they’re resting now but it was a bitter angel that imbued them with curses. One of the curses means we can never complete our bond without their death.” Gems eyes were sympathetic as Marcella gasped in anger.

“Then I’ll find the damn curse and pick it apart piece by piece. They’re in safe hands. Now do you need a shoulder or do you need to vent?” He felt like he was being scolded by a mother hen, but he smiled at Marcella.

“I’m going to put some brats in their place.” He caught exasperated yet fond looks before he disappeared and when he reappeared in the office’s, he knew he had his work cut out for him.

Michael was waiting, a file in his hand.

“Mallory is one of Torrid’s lackeys. She got her claws in but this one has brains. He’s been laying low until Roe’s coronation got announced. He hasn’t been sitting idle either.” Michael explained as Ashton took the file and glanced down.

He scoffed.

“Get the brats that keep defying me. Let them learn their lessons from the elder who won’t learn to adapt.” Ashton instructed as he made his way down the halls. Michael vanished as Ashton reached the interrogation rooms.

“Sir.” The demon was a younger one in looks, but she’d been around about a century longer than Ashton.

“Sal. He's still not giving up names?” She shook her head.

“We caught one name. Talisia. I’ve got one of the older agents running her down now.” He nodded before snapping his fingers and chains wrapped themselves around the unwilling demon. The noise of protest was cut off by the chains tightening.

Sal looked at Ashton with a raised eyebrow.

“They’ve gotta learn.” He shrugged as he dragged the prisoner out, heading from the buildings to the pit that lay just outside of the palace.

Demons began to curiously gather as he dragged the chained up demon through the streets. More gathered as he kicked the demon into the pit, the chains unwinding from the demon.

Ashton held his stance, casual and collected. Michael pulled up on the other side as he felt Sal watch his back.

“Someone who cannot change is someone to be made an example of.” He called over to the gathered demons. They fell silent.

“This is just how he treats anyone who disagrees with him.” Mallory called to the crowd and a whisper of unrest rushed through the gathered.

Ashton snorted.

“We all knew a new Queen would be ruling. You are apart of the group that tried to murder her and one of her coven sisters ten years ago and escaped justice. The last ten years has been making sure that whilst you may disagree with a hybrid Queen, you can see she’s capable.” Ashton called out earning mutters of agreement.

“She will be weak willed like the new brats that you recruit.” This time mutters from Michael’s group were loud and he turned in shock. “They are trying to fool you!”

A laugh rang out from that side and a small female stepped forward, face in a vicious snarl.

“You just called us weak willed brats did you not? You tried to brainwash us into believing that a new queen would be terrible but failed to mention you attempted to murder her long before we arrived.” She glanced up at Ashton who nodded.

“If I was a merciful man, I’d let her roast you until you are nothing but dust. But I am not merciful and I am not a man.” Demons fell silent as his body shifted, cracks running through his skin as he snarled and the pits opened.

Hell hounds rushed around their newest meal and wasted no time in tears pieces off, his screams echoing around until they faded to gurgles before falling silent.

“Take your quarrels with our new queen to the ones that have been trying to teach you the last decade. They will tell you what happened with her hybrid sister and what she did to the demon who tried to murder her mate.” He snarled before he disappeared back to the offices.

Ashton knew that he was going to get complaints from the older lot, but he was in no mood to deal with petty demons who could not adapt to change. If they were going to rule efficiently, then they needed to learn to adapt efficiently.

He headed back up, trying to grip his temper, but he was walking back into a volatile situation. He was angry on his angel’s behalf, knowing that they were thrown because of him.

It burned him that they were so wounded for so many years.

He sought out Gem who was waiting, a cup of tea sat on the arm of the chair, expecting.

“I’ve imbued the room in soundproof spells for you. Let it out, Ashton.” Her kind tone seemed to set off the temper and his anger flooded, skin cracking as he let out such a snarl that would’ve frightened any sensible witch.

Gem remained in place as he got up and paced, his hair crackling with power as his skin cracked further, blood red veins running down his face as he finally hurled the tea cup, the porcelain shattering against the wall.

Gem merely waved her hand and more pieces of fine china stacked themselves on the table closest to him and he threw every single piece, his fury and frustration reducing some of the pieces to nothing more than dust.

He was so angry that he couldn’t think straight, mind splintering. Part of him was stuck on the anger towards the underworld, the new demons that defied him as well as Roe. And the other part was stuck on his anger towards the high heavens for hurting his angel. His mate.

It took the better part of an hour before his anger finally began to recede enough that his skin returned to normal but it felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. The sensation was strange and he could feel moisture in his eyes and he finally understood as Gem stood up, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

For the first time since he’d died, he was crying.

It took longer than he’d thought, another forty minutes, before he stopped crying, the heavy breathing slowing down until his tears were gone and his chest wasn’t burning from trying to take in oxygen.

Gem had another cup of tea waiting and once he was sitting back in the armchair, she got down to business.

“Now that you’re less likely to murder one of my coven should they look at you wrong, are you ready to tell me what happened? Tell me about the defiant and I’ll tell you what we found with your Angel.”

This made Ashton pause before his eyes narrowed on the witch.

“You’d have made a better demon.” He finally muttered darkly, taking another sip of tea. She dimpled at him before sitting back and letting him take the lead of the conversation.

He told her about the defiant demons, what he did to the traitor they found. He didn’t hide the violence from Gem and she didn’t flinch away. He felt his chest feel strangely lighter and when he said so, she smirked.

“You boys might think you’re soulless, but you’re not. You need to share the burdens that you all carry. It might not be a typical burden that weighs you down, I know that death means nothing to you. But the ones that have been defying you, it’s making you question your choices. That’s where your burden lies.”

“Maybe a better therapist than demon.” He finally conceded and she laughed.

“Would you like to know about the curses?” This had his immediate attention, tea long since abandoned.

“How did you figure it out?”

“They used your blood. The curse is specifically tied to you. It’s a long forgotten curse that will burn them when you initiate the bond.” He felt his stomach turn.

“But our bond initiates from touch does it not?” And Gem shook her head.

“It’s different for you two. You’ve been bonded before but it broke with your death, correct?” He nodded. “You need to be physically intimate with them for the bond to reassert itself.”

“Is there a counter?” Gem visibly brightened.

“There is. The only problem is that we need to get a hold of a faerie. And they’re tricky little blighters that don’t do anything unless there’s something in it for them.” And Ashton could feel his hopes sink to the pit of his stomach.

Faeries were notoriously tricky to deal with and unless there was something in the deal that benefitted them, they wouldn’t help. And he couldn’t see how a faerie would benefit from his mate being freed from the curse.

“I’ll see if I can call in a favour. Faeries might be fickle, but they honour debts between magical races. Go see your angel and I’ll get in contact.” Gem ushered him from the room and with a sigh he made his way upstairs, his feet feeling like lead as he got closer to the room.

As he pushed open the door and their face lit up upon seeing him, and despite the dashed hope, he felt warm and a sense of comfort as the heaviness lifted as he took a seat, his hand slipping into theirs.

He could deal with this.

—

Gem had put in many calls, but none were being answered. It was like they knew the favour she was going to ask.

When Michael had shown up to check in, Ashton was yet to leave the angels' side, and so Gem caught him, making him pause.

“It’s better that he stays with them for now. I, however, need a perspective of a demon.” This pulled Michael up short.

Although he wasn’t a frequent visitor with Gem, he didn’t realise that she was comfortable enough to ask a favour, or at least ask for his advice.

“I’m curious.” She snorted at his words and tilted her head to what had been dubbed as her sitting room. Michael followed quietly, his eyes glancing to the grand staircase before ducking into the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, making him raise an eyebrow as he took the offered seat.

“I wish I could use the term ‘curiosity killed the cat’, but you’d be quick to be a smartass back.” The older witch muttered. Michael grinned.

“Absolutely. So what do you need me for that you couldn’t drag one of my elusive brothers out for?” He sat back in the chair, his elbow leaning on the arm rest as his head rested against his fingers. Gem rolled her eyes.

“The Fae are notoriously fickle. I have favours to call in but I know they won’t do it without some kind of reward. How can I put it in a way that they’ll be helping another species without actually gaining something in return?”

“Just promise you won’t murder them. Usually does the trick.” Gem stared at him, her lips parted in shock at his words and brash attitude that came with them.

Only when his lips began to twitch did she realise he was teasing her.

“Michael!” Her tone was flustered as she set her cup down.

He laughed.

“When it comes to a demon, you do need to promise that you won’t kill them. I wasn’t necessarily joking but they’ll be more inclined to listen if they know that their life isn’t on the line.” Gem just sighed.

“Any other wise ideas from you?” The dry tone made Michael snort.

“Just go with your standard offerings. They’re selfish creatures so if the gifts are for them along with the promise of their life, there’s going to be at least one who will answer your call.”

Gem could see where Michael was coming from and for a moment she wondered if that would be enough to encourage the fae to listen to their requests.

“I’ll try them once more but if they don’t work, we’re going to need a different way to get their help because they’ve been ignoring all of my other offerings.” Gem commented to Michael quietly. This made the demon pause in his movements.

“This is for the Angel that’s Ashton’s mate, correct?” Gem nodded and he sighed. “Let me deal with them, then. That way, we’re being upfront that a demon is involved and they may just respond to the plea.” Gem looked stunned for a moment before a bright smile crossed her features.

“Thank you Michael.”

“You’ve kept my brothers and I alive for the better part of a decade. Allowed us to reside in your home and still use that protection. It’s the least I can do for you. Where’s the fae mound?”

The following morning, Michael strolled in with a smug grin on his lips, and then glanced back to the door.

Gem nearly dropped her tea as the being she had been so desperate for stepped into the house. She held an air about her that seemed to demand her attention, the dark braids hanging over one shoulder, her eyes staring at Gem as the older witch studied the darker skinned being that had finally taken up her offerings and she couldn’t stop herself as she grabbed the back of the chair for support.

“You know what’s expected, what we need?”

“I do this as a favour to my mate.” Her words were smooth like honey and Gem felt her jaw dropped, staring at Michael in shock.

“Michael?”

“She’s my mate. When they sensed my presence, they sent her to deal with me. Neither of us anticipated the bond, but we didn’t deny it either.”

“And your council?” Gem asked hesitantly, curiosity tinging her tone.

“They accept the bond but will not welcome me back. So I asked them for one last favour for myself and my mate.” Gem felt the relief flood through her veins as she stepped forward, clasping her hands around the faerie’s, ignoring the look of shock at her touch.

“I cannot begin to tell you how much this means, for all of us. These four demons, it was difficult at first a decade ago, but they’re family, and to see one hurting, it’s difficult for all of us now.”

Michael scoffed and Gem gave him a wry smile.

“They learned their lessons long ago, you know that. We will proceed with the ritual on the next full moon if that is acceptable for you?” She returned her attention to the faerie whom she had yet to let go of.

“Perfectly acceptable.”

“Wonderful. What’s your name, dear?”

The faerie seemed to hesitate, glancing to Michael first before offering the older witch a kind smile.

“They called me Adana.”

taglist: @sexgodashton, @goth5sos, @malumsmermaid, @empathycth, @wildflowergrae, @calpops, @rosecolouredash, @cakesunflower, @loveroflrh, @clockwork124, @cal-puddies, @stellar5sosrecs, @ashtoniwir , @cthla, @calmlftv, @spicycal, @liketheydidwithyou, @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer, @bluehairedtracii, @drummerboy794, @feliznavidaddycal, @ukulelecal, @thecurlsofgod, @converse-luke, @madbomb, @ccnicole02, @youngblood199456, @megz1985, @lukesidentitycrisis, @snapback-irwie, @neonweeknds, @666yourwitchyfriend666, @cashtonasfuck, @ashtaway, @conquerwhatliesahead92, @itjustkindahappenedreally, @kchillout, @damselindistressanu, @colormekaykay, @findingliam-o, @sublimehood, @singledadharrington, @sugarcoated-pain, @singt0mecalum, @calumspeachy, @colourfulcalum, @lostincalum, @burncrashbromance, @asht0ns-world, @flusteredcliffo, @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave, @fangirl-everythang, @lashtonswildflower, @lashtondaddies, @calumssunshine, @ambskiwi, @abundant-stars, @myescapefromthislife, @lmao5sosimagines, @beyoncesdragon, @jae-writes-fanfiction, @cxddlyash, @tresfandom, @niallisworld, @lietomevalntyn, @babylon-corgis, @monochrome44, @behind-my-hazeleyes27, @lyllibug, @bloodmoonashton, @ghostofmashton, @a-little-less-sixteen, @smokeinherlungs, @longlastingdaydream, @h0tsos, @sadistmichael, @sugar-nico, @sunnysidesblog, @angel-cal, @samros95, @maluminspace, @lukeinblue, @britnicole11, @gigglyirwin, @everyscarisahealingplace, @loverofcashton, @iovehemmings, @g-l-pierce, @jannimoeller3, @wildmichaelflower, @lukeskisses, @youngbloodchild, @abb-lan-5sos, @calumsbub, @flameraine, @mateisit-balsamic, @ilovelukey, @castaway-cashton, @musiclover1263, @alloutofcashton, @tobefalling, @sarahshepherdblog, @cassie-sos, @possesedperson, @treatallwithkindness, @wonderlandiswhereitsatyo, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @ashtonlrwin,

if you’ve been taken off the taglist, it’s because i couldn’t tag you! if you want to be added/re-added/removed from the taglist just drop me a message!!

38 notes · View notes

wide-eyedscottishlass · 3 years

Text

Scarlett and the Professor

[continued from]

“Then teach me, please. Give me the answer I need,” Scarlett insisted quietly. “It’s the real reason you brought me here tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes...oh yes, Scarlett,” he murmured, laying just the fingertips of his right hand against her neck and softly tracing along her cheekbone with his thumb, “Although I think you might know the answer already---but it seems to me that you’ve buried the notion in the depths of your mind, for it defies rational thought.”

His eyes, like his voice, had gone utterly soft, as she barely shook her head in denial. Her brow creased with consternation, Scarlett parted her lips but words still seemed to fail her, “I...I don’t know what you mean, Professor...I swear that...that I don’t have a clue...”

“My dear little...hmmmm...” Hennessy’s lips were pressed together in an enigmatic smile that rivaled the Mona Lisa’s. “My little water nymph. Quiet your doubts and fears and simply listen. Trust what your heart already knows to be true.”

Scarlett closed her eyes, trying to do as her teacher bid, focusing on the steady sounds of the waves and on the soothing touch of his fingers, instead of the insistent voice of reason. Though she came from a culture rich in folk tales, myths, and legends, she was also a child of the 21st century, with access to the finest of educations and the most advanced technologies. Yet here he was---a brilliant, highly educated man---asking her to forsake reality and embrace the...fantastical. Alright then...I must call it what it is. Either I’ve gone quite mad, and none of this is real...or...or...

Her eyes shot open at the impossible conclusion. “It’s...magic?”

Hennessy was nodding and sounding pleased, “Of a sort, yes...”

“Magic is...real?”

“Real. And though as rare a hen’s teeth, older than civilization itself.”

Concerned that he was teasing her, playing upon her obvious naivete, taunting her as a fool, Scarlett studied his face carefully. She saw not a trace of irony, nor even the smallest hint of amusement at her expense. While her mind continued to revolt against the very notion, her heart---already entangled fathoms deep with everything he presented himself to be---insisted he was revealing a truth she was meant to learn eventually. The mysteries of her past suddenly made far more sense if the world allowed for the true existence of the paranormal.

“And there it is,” he observed, reading her reluctant acceptance as it stole across her face. “I knew you were bright enough to understand, m’dear. And I’ll wager something of the...supernatural...touched your life long before we met. Before you ever came to this place. Very likely before you even finished primary school.” Hennessy’s unwavering conviction and uncanny insight left a wave of relief washing over her. “I don’t need the slightest bit of magic to see that that is true.”

Hearing the long-held secret that he had guessed, goosebumps broke out across her skin. “Yes...yes...and heaven help me, yes,” she exclaimed in surprise, “But I’ve never shared that with a single soul in the world.” Well, only with my confessor, the Sea.

He nodded, having become the absolute picture of patience, while Scarlett felt the circle of water around them finally recede. “Come sit with me a while, love---I’ll tell you a bit of my experience if you’re willing to tell me a bit of yours.”

___________________________________________

“...of course, this is not ‘magic’...” Hennessy framed the word in air quotes, “...as it’s understood by the world at large. That is an illusion perpetrated by charlatans and con men and entertainers.” Scarlett was grateful for the clear sky, for the light of the waning gibbous moon allowed for her to read his face well enough to know he was being quite frank. “Like most practitioners of true magic, I come to it through a blood connection--though such powers are latent, and require active cultivation.” He paused for a couple of breaths, allowing her to digest the concept. “My mother is what we call an Elemental Sorceress---a fairly powerful one at that. Meaning that I, like her, have some control over the elements. Air, Fire, Earth. And as you have seen for yourself, Water.”

Having grown up in a household where ancient Celtic superstitions dwelled side by side with the tenants and strictures of Roman Catholicism, the very concept of sorcery raised her hackles as something to be feared for the sake of her immortal soul. And yet, it made sense to her, as though the existence of magic was one of several missing puzzle pieces that could offer a full explanation of her past.

Hennessy watched her, waiting as she wrapped her mind around such an astonishing truth, before continuing this strange, unlooked for lesson. “It shouldn’t surprise you that my strongest skill lies with Water---or that it’s my favorite.”

He bit his lip at that, looking so amused that a sudden warmth spread from her belly on down as she remembered what he’d done to her. “That’s...that’s an amazing skill, my jo,” she nearly whispered.

His hearty laugh warmed her as well, and he added, “And one that I’ve elevated to a fine art, don’t you agree, little lamb?”

Scarlett nodded, wide-eyed and solemn, so that he broke into his most wolfish grin. “But there’s even more to it, isn’t there?” Her instincts were awakened now, her need to know the truth of her own connection to the supernatural enough to override her incredulity.

“Much more,” he affirmed, “More than even I had imagined before I made this place my home.” He narrowed his exotic, ever-compelling eyes, probably reading her to decide if she was ready to hear more. “And Scarlett, I have a strong hunch that it’s a good part of the reason that you found your way here as well.”

‘Nah,” she scoffed, “Twas only that my Da thought a semester or two here might do me well...”

“Then perhaps your Da knows a thing or two he hasn’t told you yet,” he speculated---and then seeing the stubborn set of her brow, left off that topic for the moment. “Regardless, here you are in this very unique place, where elemental magic is just one of many extraordinary things to flourish.”

“One of...many,” Scarlett repeated, not yet completely convinced, “Just how many?”

Hennessy laid his long index finger across his lip, considering his reply carefully. “Well- almost as many as those who live on campus and in the community at large. You could say this island is a supernatural nexus of sorts...”

“Like the Bermuda Triangle?”

He grimaced, “ I suppose you might say that---but I wouldn’t. At least not in front of anyone native to the island...”

Scarlett nodded, choosing not to question that grim sounding assessment, so that he continued, “This place draws the preternatural and mysterious to it. Welcomes it, nurtures it, if you will---and makes all sorts of magic easier to wield...”

“Well, I’m no sorceress,” she protested, chewing her lip thoughtfully, “I mean, I have experienced moments of...crystal clarity...which seem to strike me out of the blue. Strong feelings about what is going to happen. And...well...I’ve always had a sort of...intuition...about...” Scarlett shrugged and finished with a sheepish smile, “...about...people...”

Hennessy took her hand and slowly ran his thumb back and forth across her knuckles, the soft regard in his eyes making her weak as it always did. “Qualities which I assure you, Scarlett dear, are both uncommon and extraordinary. Even in a place that plays host to descendants of creatures out of legends and myths.” He twined his long fingers through hers. “My intuition tells me that something of the supernatural has more than touched you.”

Scarlett looked out at the dark expanse of the ocean, its gentle swells so close to shore, and even it’s smallest ripples, glittering with moonlight. She closed her eyes and drew several deep breaths, simply listening. Listening for the whisper beyond the rhythm of the waves, searching for the quiet voice she had heard so often in her youth. In those days, the Sea had never failed to give her the answers she sought---but these days, wrapped up in the trappings of adulthood, she had convinced herself that those times were the imaginings of a child’s mind providing her with the simple comfort she could not find elsewhere.

Now she spoke aloud, though the words were far more for her own sake than to answer his theory. “When I was young...as a child and...in those awkward, teenage years...I always felt most comfortable and most at peace ...at the water’s edge. In those days, the Sea was almost...like a mother to me.” Despite the balmy, evening air, Scarlett was shivering as the truths she had hidden away in the past several years as mere childish fancies, came back to her at last. “But at the same time, I sometimes felt I could never go too far from the safety of the shore. That it...that if I went too deep, I might never find my way...” She shuddered with the realization, “my way home.”

Hennessy traced the shell of her ear with his free hand and then rested it against her neck. For once, his skin was warmer than hers, so that she looked to him with a sudden longing to have him hold her and warm her. Warm her through and through, and assure her that she was safe with him here, where the sand mingled with the surf. Scarlett’s eyes welled over with salty tears seeing the patience and understanding in Hennessy’s.��“Can you imagine how it was for me as a child...to both love and fear such...such a huge, ever-present aspect of Nature? One that loomed so large in my little world?” Her floodgates had finally opened, for a single soul that had the vision to ask. “To find joy and comfort in the ocean’s embrace, to feel it was where I belonged---but also to understand at the age of five that it had the deadly power to steal my breath? My very life?”

How tenderly he thumbed her tears away, how gently he drew her to him---as though he had known her secrets already, and had only been waiting for her to share it out loud. “I can,” he told her, brushing a kiss on the crown of her head, still holding her close, “Our experiences are not so dissimilar, love---though I had a parent knowing enough to guide me through those growing pains.”

“You? You knew such fear?”

“Very like.” Hennessy drew a long sigh, answering so softly that Scarlett would wonder later if she’d imagined it. “Though I feared what lay within me more than I ever could the Sea...”

His warmth and solidity braced her well as her memories continued to engulf her reason. “There were awful, terrible dreams too,” she revealed, “As far back as I can remember. That there was something dark and sinister waiting for me out there in the depths. They only went away in the past few years.” That they had recently returned, Scarlett would not, could not, share with him just yet.

Hennessy hummed quietly as he considered her revelations. “I’m remembering all your sweet and saucy missives, from before we’d shared even a single kiss, little lamb. And how you’ve admitted that you were drawn to me from the moment you entered my classroom.” His voice remained calm and even, surely meant to further soothe her. “Given the many ties that also bind me to the Sea, this can be no coincidence.”

She nodded against him, too overcome by that implication to reply.

“Cleary, the roots of this mystery are what brought you to these shores.” He tightened his arms around her and she drew deep of his scent and strength and certainty. “And perhaps I can help you solve it one of these days. But for tonight, it’s best to let this rest---don’t you agree, my sweet jo?”

“Oh yes, please,” Scarlett answered, slipping her arms around his neck, her trust in his wisdom absolute. “Please,” she whispered as he lowered her onto her back, and loomed above her so that, fleetingly, the moon appeared to be a halo behind his head.

This time, the love he made to her was slow and sweet, their combined rhythm an exquisite counterpoint to the beat of the waves. In the end, Scarlett’s cries of pleasure rose full and shamelessly from her heart, to be caught upon the breeze and float their way out above the warm salt water---traces of which she now knew flowed through both their veins.

tagging: @strangelock221b @ravencatart @doctor-stephenstrange @splunge4me2art @ben-locked @ben-c-group-therapy @letterstosherlock @tsukuyomi011 @aeterna-auroral-avenger @frowerssx-world @humanbornarchangel @emilyinnj4real @losille2000 @groovyfluxie

#my writing #Scarlett and the Professor #magic #mystery #romance #Scarlett Campbell.#OFC #OMC #not my OMC and used with permission #(assuming permission is still granted)#Scarlett's Professor #Professor Hennessy #Hennessy

19 notes · View notes

noragami-ru-manga · 4 years

Text

On Father’s eyes and Fujisaki’s soul

What better way to spend your afternoon than posting a meta right before the chapter drops and possibly destroys everything written in it?)

One of the many things about Father that the readers of Noragami find interesting is his eyes. Specifically how sometimes the shading on one of them is different from the other.

I’ve never really seen how that could be explained. The only volume cover with Father on it has him with one of his eyes closed. Luckily, I’ve recently started collecting all of the volume covers, including the inside covers. Now I know that Father is actually on TWO covers:

1) Volume 11 cover – you know, the one where he’s lying on a heap of newspaper clippings with the articles about the murders he had Yato commit;

2) Volume 16 inside cover.

And this is how he looks on both covers:

That’s it, everything’s clear now, nothing to see here anymore, everyone, go home.

Well, not really.

See, most of the time Father’s/Fujisaki’s eyes are actually evenly colored. They are dark, just like most of the other character’s in the series, regardless of whether he’s in the body of Fujisaki Kouto or out of it (you know, when he’s wearing that black yukata). That must be Fujisaki’s body’s eye color, the one that people who talk to him see. After all, not a single character has commented on this periodic heterochromia he has, so it probably doesn’t really manifest.

For the purposes of this meta I’ve looked at every.single.frame.with.Father.in.it. Also looked at some other characters’ eyes. My observations are listed below.

A character’s eye color often changes to indicate some sort of emotion. Hiyori, for example, has dark eyes (brown), like on the picture of the left. On the other picture they are much lighter than usual. This is a moment from chapter 36 when she thought they have no way of getting Yato out of Yomi, seconds before Amaterasu shows up (the picture on the right is actually from the same chapter, a couple of pages prior).

Sometimes a character’s eyes go completely white, like in the case of Bishamon here. On the left you can see her normal eye color (purple), on the right – the eye color when she’s shocked that the seven gods of fortune are accused of taming ayakashi.

Father’s eyes sometimes become white to reflect two states – either when he’s shocked (on the left) or when he’s plotting something (on the right):

However, in most of the scenes he’s in his eyes are dark and evenly colored:

I’ve actually found only 12 moments when the shading on of the eyes is slightly different. Still, other characters don’t have this feature, so ignoring it is not an option. Adachitoka’s art is very detailed; it can’t be a simple mistake or accident.

Here they are. I’m not so sure about chapter 77 though, ‘cause the different eye color in that one could be attributed to lighting. That’s not the case with the other ones , especially when it comes to Father’s introduction – the darker eye is on the lighter side of his face.

From what we see here, Father’s right eye seems to be darker in most of the cases, except for chapters 63, 80 and 81. Since I don’t see a clear rule on which eye is supposed to be get the extra lighting, I can’t really suggest that one of them means one thing and the other one means something else.

Then maybe we should look into what happens in the scenes themselves?

Chapter 24 – Fujisaki prevents Hiyori from falling down the stairs and tells her to be careful. Father already knows who Hiyori is; according to him, he moved to Tokyo to get to her specifically.

Chapter 39 – Father is telling Mizuchi that Yato will return to them.

Chapter 40 – Father says that he will allow Yato to make a couple of good memories because he’s such a nice dad. Moments earlier he was conducting an experiment – he used the new kotonoha to control a person possessed by one of his masks.

Chapter 44 – Father is talking about gods and how the way their human creator manipulates them is no concern of theirs.

Chapter 45 – Father is watching Kofuku’s house. He then creates a mask that possesses a boy and infiltrates Tenjin’s shrine to get rid of Edachi.

Chapter 63 – Father watches how Bishamon is trying to get to him while thinking that this way she will turn the Heaven’s execution squad’s eyes away from Yato.

Chapter 68 – Father fakes seeing Kazuma to make Bishamon turn her back to him. However, he notices several gods approaching to them and fleets.

Chapter 77 – Father kills “Bishamon”, who is actually Edachi.

Chapter 80 – Father says there’s a way to come back to life/come back from Yomi (he uses both of these phrases in his conversation with Yukine; whether they mean the same thing for him or not is yet to be revealed).

Chapter 81 – Father tells Hiyori that Yukine has started wondering about his past.

Chapter 87, picture #1 – Father suggests that Hagusa searches for his human name around the house.

Chapter 87, picture #2 – Father must be thinking about his past (the first 19 pages of 87-2 are probably his memories that segway into Nora’s tale).

Again, I don’t see a clear pattern here. I could say that these are all moments when Father is plotting something. But there are other scenes in which he does the same yet his eye color is ordinary.

So yeah, failed to notice any correlation between Father’s eyes and his thoughts and/or actions. However, there is one more option left – the different shading on one of the eyes could be a hint that there are two souls in the body of Fujisaki Kouto – his own and Father’s. After all, he has red eyes on the cover of volume 11, where his physical body is depicted, and blue eyes on the cover of volume16, where he’s in his spirit form.

I have mentioned several times now how I believe that Father possesses not just another person’s body, but their soul as well. It’s mostly based on two things:

1) In chapter 80 Father says that himself – that he possesses the soul of the Fujisaki family’s eldest son. This wording always seemed strange to me – why not say that he possesses the body? Of course, Father’s words can’t be trusted without further proof from other characters. In this case, the proof is Thing #2.

2) In chapter 81 Hiyori noticed Father flying above her head on a giant ayakashi, but her friends didn’t. If there were still people left who thought that Father doesn’t actually leave Fujisaki’s body, this moment should have finally convinced them. And during the fight Father showed Hiyori his true appearance, just for a split second. And we know that it actually happened, because Hiyori remembers it happening.

Of course, it’s just a theory. However, it brings up some questions.

1) When does Father transfer to another body (and soul) – right from the body’s birth or later?

2) What happens to the soul he possesses?

Let’s focus on the first one for now and see how Father can hop from one person to another.

1) Reincarnation in an infant’s body

Judging from Father’s words, this seems to be the case – he says that he lives and dies in other people’s bodies ever since his return from Yomi, and that he doesn’t get to choose. So when his current body, he is simply somehow born in another person’s body. And he keeps his memories, personality, goals and motivation, which is creepy of several reasons. The idea of a thousand year old man being in a toddler’s body is deeply unsettling. But it’s very inconvenient for Father, too – having the mind of a growing while being confined in a body that for some time can’t sit, walk and talk every time he is reborn. After all. he doesn’t have the luxury of being able to think rationally and talk without any learning the way reincarnated gods do. His abilities are restricted to the abilities of a human body, and even if they aren’t, he will have to fake it if he doesn’t want to raise suspicions.

And there’s also a question of how Nora must be the one controlling Yato when Father is too small to do that. If we take into account volume 8 omake, then Yato worked as a magatsukami when Fujisaki was a toddler, so it’s unlikely that he was the one finding the jobs, so Nora had to take over. I’ve thought about it, and yeah, I think she could actually handle that. Yato admitted that one of the reasons he kept doing the jobs was because he still somewhat enjoyed I, even the most recent time he returned to being a magatsukami. If Nora waited for an opening when yet another shinki would leave Yato, he would probably agree to do the jobs even without Father’s influence.

2) Possessing an existing human

By which that I mean that Father doesn’t live his life in a new body from the start but rather starts possessing a real existing person. We do have to take into account that he really doesn’t get to choose the person. Why would he choose some random student who doesn’t even live in Tokyo and had to move there? If Father could choose the body, he probably wouldn’t even need Yato. There are many means of destroying humans as it is. If he wanted to use them, all he needed was possesses the right person.

If Father can’t switch bodies on his own volition, there must be some conditions that prevent him from possessing any human he wants. Maybe his soul can only transfer to another person when his body dies? Or maybe there are conditions regarding the person that can be possessed? Divine possession, for example, requires a human and a god to have a special bond:

Maybe not every person can host Father’s soul.

This kind of possession eliminates the whole “grown man in an infant’s body” thing, but it’s not without its cons. It means that Father has to substitute another human and he has to work to successfully impersonate the human he knows nothing about. That being said, there’s nothing stopping him from cutting all the ties this person had before being possessed and moving elsewhere, so there’s no need to pretend. Overall, I think that this option would be more convenient for Father.

If this is the case, I’m curious to know when exactly Father started possessing Fujisaki. Let’s examine some of the things he tells about himself to see if there’s anything in them.

We know for sure that Fujisaki Kouto transferred to Hiyori’s school at the start of the new school year. In chapter 30 he tells a little about himself:

The part about Fujisaki having a sister and nieces is true, but the rest is fishy. When Father stopped coming to school after the rebellion, Yama found out that he had lied about living with his father who moved to Tokyo for work:

Why would Father lie about Fujisaki-senior separating from the family and tell the he only moved for work is unclear. It’s also not clear when did Father get rid of him, if that’s what Yama’s words imply. I do believe though that the apartment where he lives in Tokyo really was Fujisaki Kouto’s dad’s place. After all, moving in with your father, even if he left the family, is easier than finding a place on your own.

As for when did Father start possessing Fujisaki: on the first glance, the sudden move to Tokyo does seem to be exactly what I said he could do in so that he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone else. However, some scenes suggest that he has lived with the Fujisaki family for quite a while. Like how he has to correct himself when he starts referring to Fujisaki’s relatives as if they were his own. SO he had to be Fujisaki Kouto for some time; maybe even his entire life?

BTW, unless Father is lying, he was still living with Fujisaki-senior in summer. So if he did get rid of the “dad” after all, it must have happened later.

Whichever way Father possesses people, from birth or not, there’s the question of what happens to the body’s original soul, i.e. if it has a consciousness of its own, independent of Father. As usual, we have to rely on Father’s information in this case, too. Except he is a very, very unreliable source of information. On the one hand, his words about transfer exam must be true, since no one questions Fujisaki going to Hiyori’s school. He visits classes like everyone else and even does some extra work after school:

Here Fujisaki is so… normal, at least compared to what he’s like in later chapters that it’s almost like he isn’t Father. On the other hand, the Father side manifests itself within seconds:

All in all, I can’t really recall any specific scene where I could tell Father and Fujisaki apart. Even when he acts quite normal it’s much more likely that it’s just Father pretending to be a kind person rather than the real Fujisaki showing through. I’m afraid that either from the moment he was born, or some time after that, poor Fujisaki Kouto is no more than a vegetable, and his soul is completely controlled by Father. I think that they sort of merge into one, to be honest. Whenever Father leaves the body of Fujisaki, he has the boy’s appearance, but wears his own black yukata, the one we see in Yato’s flashbacks. Unfortunately, we can’t compare his case with anyone, since there’s only one other character who is a human able to leave her body – Hiyori. Unlike Father, Hiyori in her spirit from look exactly like her body, clothes and all. Since she is the only one to do so, we don’t know if that’s the norm, but it seems more logical than whatever is going on with Father.

These were my thoughts on Father’s eyes. Whether Adachitoka will ever uncover the secret behind his eyes or let it remain a mystery is hard to tell, but one Father’s differently colored eyes sure make him even more memorable.

#noragami #noragami meta #father #fujisaki kouto

136 notes · View notes

inviouswriting · 3 years

Text

Those who bargain.

Kivera centered. Got inspiration for something, so angst applies and warnings that goes into this field.

Mentions of - @candideangel ‘s Angelique and her ship. @snow-covered-moon for the polyship.

She is use to the role, she is use to the odd stares and whispers. She had taken over the role from her successor when the territory of magic concerned bringing life back, blood magic was something Kivera usually kills at the source for. She had traveled a bit with the offender to her, and learned another side to G’raha Tia.

The former exarch was weary of her, knowing what she is. He is surprised at how well she hides herself among the living. They were left alone, to stray behind after Palgth’an. G’raha was wondering just why she lingered when her presence was needed back at the Scion’s faster.

“They can wait. Not like they can start without their “warrior of light.” What’s on your mind.” They walked among the dying, occasionally he’d see her grab the air in front of her and pull. Those that were struggling would cease.

“What do you do if someone wishes to save them.” Kivera looks at him, then back to in front of her. Her vision different. She sees tethers that are breaking. She sees many trying to crawl through the aether itself. What he can’t see, or those that are not a servant of death.

“I can’t answer that. It’s a matter of my world.” She answers clipped, there was no need to answer a pointless question to her. It was always hard to make the living understand the laws of the underworld.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” G’raha Tia sees her stop and look at him, she had tugged another spirit free.

“It’s tireless and unending. Of course I get tired of seeing the same thing. Yet, I know the alternative is worse. I’ve seen the worse of it. To be trapped in a body that can’t die because of the selfishness of the living.. is more heartbreaking than letting them die.” G’raha focuses on her hand that tugs another thread, a touch of flame from her palm burns and he sees the sever wisp off.

They soon approach a scene Kivera hates the most. A couple, a woman crouched over another. Her eyes quickly looking over him and she narrows her eyes at the dagger in his back. She notes him bleeding out, and it would end soon. Equal was a head injury, one Kivera knows has caused permanent damage.

The woman looking up and sees Kivera standing there. She senses her intent and quickly covers over her fallen one more.

“Please don’t.. he’s all I have left. He can be saved.” Kivera hears the pleas, and G’raha was about to step forward to offer his healing magic when Kivera glares over her shoulder at him. He understood immediately that this was not something he could save.

Kivera sighs as she approaches and kneels down in front of both, a hand going to the top of the woman’s head an auri couple. Kivera understood the pain well, she saw it in Shuri with Ardbert.

“He could be saved, but he won’t be the same. He will just be a shell of himself. These wounds will leave him paralyzed, unable to move, unable to speak, and in constant pain. I’ve seen them, the soul itself would be miserable stuck in a body like this. I’ve seen auri men, they’re very proud. This is cruel to keep him like that.” Kivera explains it down in a gentle tone, to get her to understand.

“There are white mages who can help, can’t they?”

“Not with something like this. Their magic is only limited to certain points. They can heal certain injuries, and some are blessed with enough power to raise someone who freshly fell in death. But on bodies where the damage done is on their spine and brain. They can’t heal that. Besides... he’s already lost too much.” G’raha stands back more, witnessing the rumored hardened being of death be soft and understanding. Talking someone down from holding onto someone who is beyond saving by their magic and means. He thinks back to his crystal self still in The First, how death would be a blessing than standing as a living statue for endless time.

Kivera is right. It is torture to someone who has the option but can’t voice it. He wrings his hands together and turns to go attend to others that he can save. Letting the reaper do her part. He can save lives, she is tasked with taking them. He stays within earshot listening to her convince the woman to let go. Kivera relays her own stories, sharing Shuri’s heartbreak as a way to convey that feeling. Sharing her own, the first time he hears of the name Damien.

G’raha encounters Estinien overlooking the woman, leaning against a wall.

“You don’t stop her at all do you?”

“I have no reason to. This is her nature. She’s being merciful today. She’s usually alot colder than this. I wonder if that is because of Shuri and Misija.” Estinien muses aloud leaving G’raha to wonder about the relationship they share.

“I’ve only heard stories about her. How she was Amaurot’s desctruction along with the doom beasts. How she doesn’t blink if she is told to kill, or feel remorse for her actions. Yet here she is giving solace to someone she barely knows.”

“People will gossip about those that don’t understand. Then they fear and hate what they can’t understand. She’s meant to be feared, she commands respect in the world she comes from. Her hands are stained with countless and they’ll continue to be stained.” Estinien sees Kivera almost bowled over by the woman after she took the life of her lover. Letting the auri woman cry into her stomach. Kivera rests a hand on her head and lets her mourn.

“You said she is normally colder than this, what made that change?” Estinien thinks it over, he casts his gaze across a different direction seeing Shuri. She was busy helping bandage an amalj’aa’s arm. They had stayed behind to do work others wouldn’t do. Too caught up in themselves to really help the casualties of wars.

“I am still figuring that one out. Mystery that one is. There are still things I don’t know about Kivera, and things I will never know with the way she is. She can’t tell us the matters of the underworld. Forbidden by them. If she can’t tell us, she won’t tell you.” Kivera was let up when another amalj’aa came to collect the fallen man and the auran woman follows to learn their methods of mourning.

Kivera sees Shuri approach her and extends a hand to help her up. She takes it, and Estinien sees them both rub face to face. Kivera breaks and hugs Shuri tight to herself. He has a knowing smile on his face as the reaper seeks her own solace in Shuri’s arms.

G’raha watches in awe over this. He feels bad for his earlier questions, seeing her breakdown after a hard death.

“Have your answer?” Estinien watches G’raha wring his hands again.

“This gets to her too.”

“Of course it does. She was once human too after all.” This interests G’raha but Estinien walks away from him, and Angelique approaches to collect him for he is needed elsewhere with his ability to heal.

Estinien looks at the two after Kivera’s calmed, he sees a tinge of blue among the green of her eyes.

“Confide in us at home? I think you would feel better in private than in front of others.” Kivera too is a proud being. Her vice is her pride, Estinien rarely sees her broken down. Save for the time she couldn’t help Shuri in her catatonic state, he didn’t think wrong of her for soul searching. Yet the day she came back after managing to be pregnant was a joyful shock everyone needed.

He had gotten the secret out of her of how it happened. Shuri knows who, another love she married in a different world. He wants to meet this man, but he wouldn’t press her for how to unless she offers it.

“I’ll like that.” Kivera gives a genuine simpered smile, Shuri rests her head on top of Kivera’s.

“Let’s go then. The field doesn’t need us any longer.” He gives a stare to Kivera. She agrees to let the remainder of the souls end on their own without her assistance now. Estinien collects both women to head back to their home. Before they head back they sit in quiet at the edge of the beach front. Till they are joined by their many mutual lovers. Misija still learning how to accept their relationship, Divinity accepting her role as a stay at home mother type. If she had lent her power on the battlefield alot more could have been saved.

Yet the exchange and balance was simple. Where Divinity is needed she goes while Kivera stays behind, and vice versa.

Kivera rests her head on Shuri’s lap after sprawling herself across Estinien, Divinity, and Misija. Kivera is in thought about something, and closes her eyes when two hands run through her hair undoing the braids to leave her hair sleek against her back.

“What are you thinking of?” Shuri breaks the silence, Ysayle climbing onto her from behind.

“Would any of you think me different of I wander off to maybe have another or three?” The hands on her hair pause, and Shuri knows what she is referring to.

“Why would you think, we’d think of you different? Isn’t it children you sought to have for a long time, and you have a means to? We’ll be supportive and waiting for your return.” Estinien shakes his head at the idea, but is intruiged of what future children from the reaper might look like. The daughter she bore is already stunning.

“As long as you come back, mayhap you bring your lover here to us so we can finally see the one who managed it?” Kivera buries her face into Shuri’s stomach in embarrassment.

Ysayle sees this as an opportunity to climb on her head and sit on it to nuzzle her mother better. Kivera accepts her fate to be a seat.

“Yes, even I’d like to meet this one.” Misija comments, her hands along Kivera’s back. Divinity laughs as Kivera becomes a seat to each child.

“I’ll ask him if he wants to make that trip here.” Kivera agrees to let them meet her lover.

“For now though you’re ours.”

“Agreed.”

#Kivera Siverstein #polyship #shuri fontaye #estinien wyrmblood #G'raha Tia #g'raha tia x angelique #misija votyasch #divinity libra

5 notes · View notes

averyscarlet-blog · 3 years

Text

Project Clypse

Hello there stranger! If you don’t know who I am, or you’re too lazy to read my name, I’m AveryScarlet! You can simply call me Avery or Av. And if you know me on fanfiction.net, mostly through my works Mercury Alchemist or Final Fantasy Versus XV, welcome! Now, for a while now, I’ve been wanting to write up my own original story. Issue with me, thanks to college in the past, I haven’t properly developed the mindset to write a full-blown novel. I’ve gotten so used to typing up a chapter or two in a month before publishing them that I can’t properly focus as an actual writer should.

As much as I want to focus on writing some of my fanfiction, I can’t because I’m focusing on studying for NCLEX. So if you’re waiting for the next chapter for FF Versus XV... It’s almost done! It’s just gonna take a while. But as you can see below, I’ve been working on something else. I’m sure you’re confused as to who these characters are in the chat and why I’m pushing so many out. Well. I’ll tell you. This is my way of practicing for a story I’ve been... REALLY wanting to write for a long time. It doesn’t have a definite name, so I’m calling it Project Clypse. Which partially comes from the group my main characters are in.

Now, I thought of writing up their character bio’s but..... I’m not really that good at it as I used to be. I used to for when I was active in RP’s but I’m so rusty that I doubt I can keep up with whomever I’m chatting with. So, I’m just summarizing certain details you need to know about them! Not all of it because that'd be spoiling the story of every character. Now, with all that’s said and done, let me start explaining key points of Project Clypse.

Premise/Background

The story is centered on a world called Avarus, which you can say is sort of like Earth, except it was made with someone else's version of life. Or, it used to be. Avarus is one of the few remaining worlds that has an active patron God, who has chosen to go under the alias Belial. The world was originally created and governed by another, Belial’s younger sister, Soleil. After Avarus’ creation, and the birth of man, she was killed by an unknown assailant. But before she died, she was cursed to experience an endless cycle of death and rebirth into various random worlds. She will live a short mortal life, then die from either natural or unnatural causes.

According to Belial, this curse is bestowed only to Celetials who have performed a dire sin. While there is no definite way to lift the curse, Belial hopes that by locating and retrieving her while she's still alive, or at the very least obtain her soul, then he could find the proper means to spare his sister of her cursed fate and return Avarus's true patron Goddess. Because of her demise, life on the planet started to decay. To prevent its destruction, Belial forced the planet to stop rotating, hoping to delay it long enough for him to find Soleil.

However, there were dire consequences to this act. His actions indirectly causing the world to cease rotating; time became non-existent as a result. This, inevitably, killed off most of the remaining life in the world due to the imbalance of the ecosystem as one half of the planet became stuck in perpetual darkness, and the other being dried up caused prolonged exposure to the sun's light.

The only life that Belial was able to salvage was her sisters creation; humanity. Those that survived after the planet ceased its rotation found themselves unable to age. They can still die, but their bodies will no longer decay. During the first Century since Soleil’s death, the God went through various countermeasures to keep the world and the life still inhabits it safe until he can find his sister.

However, a strange plague began to manifest. Soon, it began to devour most of the remaining populace, creating a dark entity in the process; the Astrals (will explain in a different section).

While Belial was successful in wiping out the infected, the God realized that he cannot keep the last remnants of humanity safe. Not while there are still Astrals lurking about. So he put them to sleep, sealed them in a place that only he knows. However, because of the sudden absence of time and life, the world began to deconstruct itself each time he departed in search for her in other worlds. Realizing he cannot manage Avarus and search for his sister at the same time, he found an alternative. Since his conception, he had noticed a peculiar type of living being popping up now and then in a variety of sentient species. So he sought them out.

Eventually, gathered enough to temporarily replace humanity and trick the world itself into thinking life still exists. At first, he gathered adults since he knew nothing can grow in Avarus once they’ve lived in the world for a certain period of time, but because of their attachments to the worlds they originated from, it was difficult to convince them to remain. Then he thought up of another solution, one which he knew his sister would frown upon. Children. With their young minds, they’ll easily forget their place of origin and can be easily trained in the necessary skill in traversing through different worlds. And, after learning that the Astrals have branched out to those said worlds, learn how to handle their sudden enemy.

Their goal is simple; to locate and, if possible, retrieve Soleil and eradicate the Astrals.

Main Characters

Note: Just in case you did not know... I. Cannot. Draw. As much as it pains me to do this, but I need you guys to have some sort of idea on how they look like. I cannot find the original artists of the artworks; mostly because google imaging is shit and Pinterest tends to... Send you elsewhere. So of you know the artist, please PM me so I can give them credit. If you know they don't want their works republished, I'll remove it and try to figure something out. I take no credit whatsoever on the art! I merely scoured the internet for any references I could use. If you're wondering why I'm not.using actual people... You know how awkward that is?

Anyway, much of these are concepts so expect changes in the future. I tried to discuss as little as possible about each character. And let me tell ya.... That was a lot I had to cut off, so if the explanation is a bit messy, that was from me trying to select what to remove to avoid revealing too much.

. . .

Sound

‘I have to be better. I have to be a better leader. I have to be a better lover. I have to be a better sibling. If I don’t... then I’ll lose everything again. If I must, I’ll sacrifice my identity for a third time if it means protecting them.’

Credits to: T0Q00(?) - Okay, on Pinterest it has the person’s name AND link to their twitter account. The thing is... it’s empty. Their entire page is empty. At least I found the artist’s name?

Also known as the Glutton King, Sound is one of the leaders of his faction, Tunera Clypse and a member of Mythral. He is a first generation Nors. While not as lazy as Noise, he’s not really a fan of getting involved in fights with people. When it comes to killing Astrals; that’s an entirely different story.

Outwardly, he displays laid back, playful, and very concerning outlandish behavior. And by outlandish, I mean his... eating habits. Sound likes to experiment with his stomach. He’ll do absolutely ANYTHING to eat whatever he deems as edible. He also - absolutely - lacks any sense of shame (ex. walking out of the shower and to his room without a towel, slapping Noise’s butt). Although limited to communicate via writing, he makes sure that every single thing he writes is worth reading. Many are even surprised at just how fast he writes his messages. Then again, after years of practice, it’s expected he’d adapt.

Sound is self-aware of the fact that he’s a fictional character and will randomly break the fourth wall, causing much confusion to his friends several times. While not as dark as his previous self, Fell, he maintains some of his views towards life and tends to be as vocal - via writing - of his previous self's beliefs.

As a Cursed Blood, his curse forces him to conceal his face behind a customized Fox Mask. Depending on the amount of facial skin that was exposed, a person can live up to several minutes to several hours before inflicted with sudden death. If a person were to see the entirety of his face, they will die on the spot from unknown causes. He has a Physical Curse as well, which causes him to inflict a certain degree bad-luck to whoever hears his voice. While it’s rarely anything life-threatening, Sound is forced to become selectively mute. Although he tries his best to remain silent, he tends to accidentally let it a few words or sounds slip. Which usually occurs when he sneezes, and when he does, it is immediately advised by his friends to duck and cover.

After undergoing the Ascension Ceremony, he joined the faction Tunera Clypse and then gave up his original name, becoming the next Sound. Unbeknownst to him, his actions later in life has caused him to unknowingly become the Vessel of Gluttony. It is unknown if his eating habits is the reason he became the vessel or it’s the other way around. Either way, he has shown to be fully capable of controlling the abilities that comes with being a Vessel. Sound merely chooses not to use them.

. . .

Ayane Koronashi

“If my brother had left the orphanage that day without me, I would simply smile. If Ulric presented me his latest girlfriend, I’d smile. Smiling is all I can ever do without being a nuisance. I could never show them my pain. I want to cry but my curse renders me incapable of doing so. But now it’s better. I’m better.”

Also known as the Black Fox. Ayane is the younger twin sister of Sound. Like her twin, she is also a member of Tunera Clypse and Mythral; as well as a first generation Nors. Despite being an active member, unless accompanied by her brother, Ayane is rarely allowed to participate in any scouting or combat-related missions. The main reason for this is her curse. While also a Cursed Blood like her brother and some of their friends, the unnatural causes that led to sudden conversion to a cursed blood caused her condition to be unstable. At the beginning, she was unable to retain her original form and would take the shape of a fox.

After some time and practice, she has learned to maintain most of her former human appearance, leaving only a pair of fox ears to replace her human ears and a tail (not by choice) as an extra ligament. Not only that, some of her internal organs remain similar to that of a fox. Because of this, she is unable to eat certain foods that are potentially poisonous to her (or generally unhealthy). She was told that eventually, if nothing is done, she will permanently take the complete form of a fox. She cannot surgically remove the fox parts as they will simply grow back.

Side-note: No, they did not try or plan to remove her fox ears. The curse replaced her human ears so they cannot remove them without indirectly making her deaf.

Her personality is the somewhat similar to Sound’s, but is far more excitable and outgoing than her brother. Just like a fox, she is clever and witty, which she demonstrates many times during combat. She has a tendencyto steal things without her knowledge. While this isn’t necessarily kleptomania, as objects appear in her hands at random, she still tries get over her childhood habit. She does have a tendency to be reckless, though this is stems from her need to be useful as her curse leaves her unable to perform all of the necessary abilities that is required of a Nors.

Another thing to know is her intense hatred towards cats. Which will be explored at a later time.

As a Cursed Blood, she can take the form of a fox. While the size varies, depending on her emotional state, she is commonly seen to change into the size similar to an elephant. If she performs multiple transformations, she will regress to a regular sized fox and sleep for an extensive period of time. She has been recommended to avoid constantly rely on her full fox form as it will hasten the progression of her curse.

After undergoing the Ascension Ceremony, she followed her brother and joined the same faction as him, but unlike him, did not join as a core member so she did not have to give up her original name. Because of the current state of her body caused by her Cursed Blood, her emotions has unknowingly lead her to become thenext Vessel of Envy.

. . .

Reihana Toelle Ur Kamaria

“Why was I born like this... what did I deserve to be cursed like this!? All I want is to hold someone without fearing I’ll crush them. I can’t be the receiver forever!”

Or Rei for short. Is a member of Mythral and is a second generation Nors. As a floater, Rei rotates between the three factions, but she usually works with Tunera Clypse. Known for her terrifying brute strength, Rei is feared by many and is challenged on a near daily basis. Because of her strength and seemingly indestructible nature, she is (much to her annoyance) sometimes used as a human shield. While she is able to take on an army by herself, Rei tries not to go all out in fear of accidentally killing her allies in the crossfire. In terms of mental maturity, aside from Xavier, she is slightly more competent and is level-headed enough to not participate in childish activities. Most of the time.

Rei prefers to ‘punch first, talk later’ when confronted, though the talking never happens as her opponents is either obliterated or immediately knocked out after one hit. While she can be aggressive at times, she merely acts out on this person's due to the rumors that were spread when word of her curse began to circulate. Those closest to her have witnessed her carefree and adventurous nature. She is also cautious and careful of her surroundings, becoming more thoughtful in the usage of her strength as a result.

As much as she loves the thrill and adrenaline that comes from combat, she prefers not to fight too often. Mostly because it usually leads to unnecessary mass destruction. She craves for proper physical contact, but due to her curse, she forces herself to avoid it as much as possible.

Being the physically oldest, next to Percy, she tends to act like the big sister of the group, which Rei has admitted she finds embarrassing. Still, she works hard in trying to act as moral support for her friends. That doesn’t stop her from losing her temper when a certain line is crossed.

As a Cursed Blood, she is cursed with immeasurable strength. Her strength doubles based on who or whatever is the strongest in a world that she sets foot in. That, of course, excludes Celestial’s as the strength of the divinity is almost non-existent. By default, back in Avarus, her usual strength is enough to crumble an entire building. In other worlds, it depends. To help control and regulate her strength during combat, she uses a large amount of Astral Dust to create form-fitting gauntlets around her lower arm. She was meant to become the Vessel of Wrath but was instead changed to be the candidate for the Vessel of Pride.

. . .

Perseus Vlahos

"I used to believe that being a hero will allow you to cement your place in history. But over time, I learned that the farther in time your name is shared in time, you become nothing more than a mere legend. Or worse, a myth. Stories can be altered, changed. If that’s the case, I’d rather not be remembered at all. I didn’t work this hard just to be written off as a bedtime story.”

Christened under the name ‘Percy the Naive’ by his best friend, later life-long rival, Wilhelm, he is the current wielder of the legendary sword; Excalibur, and member of Infernum Poncitator. Grandson of Rayner, Percy is one of the few third generation Nors in Avarus. He is a kind young man and is respected amongst his peers (well, most of them) and superiors, so much so that he has been offered the position of leader of the faction. Percy refuses as not only deems himself unworthy, but out of respect for those that have lived in Avarus longer.

He displays many the ideal traits of a knight, eventually becoming viewed as an ideal knight by others. However, deep down, Percy perceives himself as the opposite. He feels he is a dishonorable fraud and is not proud of his status as Excalibur's chosen wielder. If he was given a chance to do it over again, Percy would immediately abandon his decision never search and locate the sword.

After joining Avarus, in a short span of time, Percy was able to easily establish himself as a sort of leader figure within his faction. While serious most of the time, especially during missions, due to his time with other Nors, has displayed a degree of patience and tolerance towards whoever he is assigned. Still, he never forgets their main objective and takes charge if he deems the assigned leader incompetent. Which happens more times than he refuses to count. He tries to maintain a cool head, but will severely reprimand others if the situation calls for it.

Proficient in the ways of the sword, he garnered the attention of (the then Mongrel) Mitchell. He was very reluctant in taking in a squire. But eventually, Percy relented after the younger boy attempted to fight against an Astral and nearly lost his life. He plans to one day pass down Excalibur to Mitchell once he gains the strength to surpass Percy.

At the moment, Percy is the current Vessel of Wrath.

. . .

Noise (***** Rallus)

“I tried all of my life to give my dad a reason why he shouldn't be treating his body the way he did. I tried all of my life to keep my friend in line so I'd never have to be the one to discipline him. And yet... If only I didn't try so hard, they'd still be alive.”

Author’s Note: Yeah I... legit do not know who this belongs to. There’s the artist’s signature so that’s the good thing. Problem is....

After escaping from the confines of his original world, Eingesperrt City, and, with the help Sound, joined Avarus and assumed the title of Noise. Unlike others that were gathered in the past, Noise is a regular human being. Something only Sound knows. Regardless of the danger, he became one of the leaders for Tunera Clypse, later joining Mythral after adapting to his new lifestyle.

He wears one of the Artifacts in order to copy and use only one ability of his choosing. As long as a piece of original user is within the Artifact, Noise can use it for as long as he wants. However, if its been removed and replaced with something else, the previous copied ability cannot be used ever again.

Since his recruitment, Noise adopted an extremely lazy personality. He’s so lazy that somehow even snoring consumes too much energy. To make sure he’s awake most of the time, Sound forced Noise to set up a sleep schedule, so that when he’s ready, he has enough energy to do SOMETHING. However, no matter where he is, he’ll take every opportunity to take a nap. He doesn’t care. As long as he gets to close his eyes, Noise is fine to sleep wherever, even if it involves napping righ at the edge of a volcano.

He’ll get annoyed if anyone that dares try to wake him up and he’ll be in a fowl mood for the rest of the day. The only exception is the fox girl and his lover. Despite this, he displays a certain degree of kindness. It’s just really hard to tell if what he’s doing is truly an act of kindness or he’s just too lazy to do things such as delivering a ‘motivational speech’. He can be blunt when he has to be, and he tends to come off as a jackass rude because of his personality. However, this is his way of showing he cares. Noise will flat out tell you if he dislikes you.

Another thing to know about him is his crude sense of humor. Combined with his blunt and rude nature towards people, mostly acquaintances and strangers, it always leads to various... Misunderstandings. Worst case scenario? A fight. He'd improve if he could, but he won't.

Look, if you haven't figure out that he's lazy after reading all this, gooood luck.

For reasons unknown, despite becoming the next Vessel of Sloth, it remains dormant within him. They thought of extracting it to learn the causes that led up to its current dormant state, but Sound intervened in time as he knew that extracting it by force will kill the the vessel.

. . .

Michael/Raphael/Gabriel/Uriel/Saraqael/Raguel/Remiel/etc

‘Dragons are raised under the false pretense that they are the supreme species above all others. But that merely obscures the truth; the truth that we’re just as vulnerable as anyone else. There are various ways to kill aside from piercing our hearts with a spear.”

Author’s Note: Just so you know, HE’S BLONDE and has green eyes! This was the only option I have that closely resembles how I envisioned him! There was another because he gives off the same atmosphere when you look at him but... he’s from an otome game. And I only learned that recently so, if the same goes for this one? WELP. Oh and he has patches of dark brown scales on part of his skin.

Neither a Quietus Nors nor a resident of Avarus, Michael is a dragon. His version of his race if capable of transformation, but can only change into the form of the last creature they devoured. Whole. Rather than his true form, in order to remain working in Avarus, chose to work in the form of the former Prince of Edrakon, a world where dragons were enslaved and cruelly treated as mere objects. Despite his appearance not being his own, he maintains an intimidating and powerful aura, which is easily distinguishable even within a large crowd.

Due to the high esteem he holds towards his race and his pride as a Dragon, he can come off as domineering, even becoming critical towards other versions of his race if he finds something illogical or nonsensical in their appearance and their abilities. While he does act this way, he finds it absolutely disgusting to find dragons place themselves in a position of power and abuses their power in controlling another species. Another aspect of him is that he looks down on dragons with physical defects, which is mostly directly aimed as himself due to his extremely poor eyesight. Thus, forcing him to rely on his human form to watch glasses. He also has a very confusing naming system; where he changes his name based on the date, time and temperature.

Micheal held the potential required to become a Nors, but because of his age, he was unable to undergo the necessary steps to fully integrate into Avarus. While others are reluctant to have him join their ranks, several others, for different reasons, allowed him to remain. This eventually allowed others to accept his addition to the organization.

As the one in charge of organizing and handling most of Avarus’ internal affairs, a job the Nors, even the Ex-Anima/Animus, are reluctant in taking up such an important position; he takes his job very seriously. Although he does express some contempt towards humans, this does not extend to the people he works with. He cares about them to a certain degree, which is shown by he constantly reprimands whoever acts risky during a mission.

He is the current Vessel of Pride, something he only learns of later on. Despite the fact Micheal is a vessel, Belial believes this is only temporary. He isn’t particularly close with Belial, but he respects the God enough to follow his orders.

. . .

Ulric Soknawo

'In my tribe, I was considered an outcast. You can thank the unnatural union that birthed me. Now? It hasn’t changed much, but at least I’m no longer considered the runt of the pack.’

Whose other name is Kuckunniwi, is a former member of the Aniwaya Tribe. In their world, his people are Natives who worshipped a guardian Wolf Spirit. According to them, in return for their unyielding loyalty and devoted nature, it granted the people with the power to take the form of the spirit they have worshipped for many generations. So long as they use that power to protect the forest, it shall provide them protection. Ulric is the third, second youngest, illegitamate son of the Tribal chief Tamaska and grandson of Wolfram.

As per tradition, all tribesmen are given two names, one for their human form while the other is for their inner wolf. Despite being allowed to use either name like others of his tribe, he refuses to be use his wolf name due to the meaning behind it. After being discovered by Ayane, she brought and recruited him to Avarus. Ulric is considered to be a Third Generation Nors due the fact his father was (oddly) not born a Nors, or had to potential to be converted into one.

Ulric tends to act like the stereotypical lone-wolf, choosing to remain in solitude and observe from a distance. He likes to spend his quiet time alone, though he does allow others to sit next to him when asked. Many have pointed out that he never smiles, but, as much as he hates to quote Noise, states that if there is no reason to smile, there is no reason to put so much effort in abusing his facial muscles.

As much as he loves being a wolf, he finds certain aspects of his second nature to be... aggravating. Depending on the season and the weather, it deals a the effects his wolf instincts on his human nature. Because of the two separate natures continually clashing, he tends to act irritable and his temper worsens, especially during the night. Ulric holds a strong belief that one’s nature, regardless of your race, should never control a one's personal feelings.

He holds an unyielding loyalty to his loved ones, almost to the point of willing to kill for them if the situation calls for it, but his actions are subtle and tends to be the exact opposite of how he truly feels. Only two people in his life have been able to decipher his behavior, and he cherishes them for it. Ulric has a bit of a temper as well but is able to keep it in check. His temper, however, is what led him to becoming a Cursed Blood. His curse forces him to foresee the deaths of whomever he romantically falls in love (or at least feel an interest) with.

Any attempts at interfering will only hasten their death.

. . .

Xavier Wozwald Hawthorne

'Murderers are dumbasses, always killing because of their unchecked emotions and pented up desires. Hence why most of them clumsily try to hide their crime. Serial killers are more... sofisticated with their craft, but their ego always gets in the way. If they weren’t complete dumbasses, they would have lived a long comfortable life. I should know.’

Note: Yes, this is obviously Vflower. Did I know that before? No. Do I plan to change the art reference? Yes, but only when I find one that’s not a god dang real-life person’s online avatar. XD Seriously, each time I thought I found one... it’s an utaite or vtuber.

Is a member of Mythral and a First Generation Nors. Like Rei, he is a Floater, which allows him to particiate in mission for all three factions. However, he prefers to work with those in Tunera Clypse as, since they mostly handle scouting and recruiting missions. As long as he doesn’t remain in Avarus for too long, he's fine with accepting any mission related to Tunera. Xavier will still accept missions from other factions, but that's merely to fill up his quota.

Despite appearing around the age 12-14; which was not by choice, Xavier is in fact mentally older than most of his fellow Nors. Known for his sharp tongue, Xavier is one of the few known Nors to have been granted permission to travel outworld immediately after undergoing the Ascenscion Ceremony.

Due to the experiences his past life went through, Xavier has a very grim outlook of the world and displays little to no respect towards authority figures. And that includes his current patron God; Belial, which only worsens after being told by the God that he is unable to help Xavier grow into the appropriate intended size. Unlike most Nors, he displays a high degree of critical thinking and intelligent. He is, if not more, level-headed than one of his friends; Percy. Though that doesn’t stop the teasing. While confident in his abilities in terms of combat, Xavier knows the limits of his current smaller body.

In order to compensate, he creates an excessively large scythe as compensation, but he's too proud to admit this.

Because of his level of maturity, he has been labeled as a 'Midget Grandpa'. Which he fails at trying to prove otherwise by collecting certain tthings that are considered out of date by their standards. Eventually, it became a soft of hobby for him to collect such things.

Xavier tends to display a sadistic nature while in combat, choosing to taunt his opponent by constantly pointing our their obvious flaws deficits and toy with them until the last minute. Most times, he will use his child-like appearance to his advantage to further torment his opponent/victim. Comically enough, if his opponent is a cold-blooded criminal, Xavier will compliment and , depending on their actions, congratulate them; much to the annoyance of those involved.

Like Sound, he has both a Physical and Blood-based Curse, but unlike the latter, Xavier was born with both. His Physical Curse has caused severe permanent scarring on his right arm, making it appear similar to third degree burns. If freed from any type of coverage, such as bandages, his arm will painfully be set a blazed, forcing him to conceal his arm at all times. As a Cursed Blood, Xavier has a similar effect of a Siren, except his hypnotic singing forces someone to commit suicide. Every time he uses this curse, he temporarily falls into a coma.

. . .

Succu(bus) Kilmer

Like her name suggests, Succu is a succubus, but belongs to a different version of her species. Due to being a demon, she is forbidden to reveal her true name. Succu is neither a Nors nor a Cursed Blood. She’s more of an illegal immigrant after sneaking her way into a group of Nors when they were scouting for potential recruits. There have been many attempts in trying to relocate her back to her original world, but she is able to seduce her attackers and slip away. Eventually, Belial declared that she will be allowed to remain as a resident, so long as she contributes in their mission to locate Soleil.

While they do seduce those of the opposite sex, her source of food is not as grotesque as several others. She does seduce her victim, but moves her body in a way that her victims find alluring. Succu will then massage certain parts of their body as a means to relax them. To assure that they will not attempt to escape, she will release pheremones that nulls the victims senses. What she devours isn’t the flesh of her victim nor does she devour their soul, she merely devours the emotions she was able to invoke until her hunger is quenched.

Succu is flirtaceous and very... very.... VERY- Well, you get the point. While she doesn’t flaunt her beauty, she does know how to use it to her advantage. However, despite many approaching her, Succu has only eyes for one, and is willing to wait as long as possible for that person to reciprocate her feelings. Succu, although assertive and open with her feelings, is not the type to force them onto someone.

She does like to express herself by getting physical - very physical. Not the way that you’re thinking, you perverts. She finds it more convenient to allow her actions to talk rather than saying things verbally. Since she’s an outsider, she notices several things that not even Pery or Ulric have noticed, and both are outsiders as well considering the fact they grew up outworld before being recruited. Regardless, she remains silent for the sake of remaining by her beloved’s side.

Succu is often mistaken as the Vessel of Lust due to her nature, and, on her part, finds it’s tiresome to prove that she is not.

Side Characters

Tank Mortem

A former member of Tunera Clypse and Mythral, Tank has been assigned to act as one of the engineers in maintaining the Infernian Generator due to his body’s condition and the issues of his mental state. He seldom participates in missions but, despite being given strict orders not to, joins in anyway. Due to the limits of his mental capacity, Tank has difficulty interacting with others. Quite literally.

Beatrix Staccato

Is a researcher and inventor in charge of the tools and weaponry utilized by most Nors and Ex-Animus. Having taken over most of the unfinished projects since the passing of his master, Beatrix has dedicated all of his time in improving the welfare of the world and its inhabitants. However, most of his experiments tend to be a bit... over the top. If he’s not thinking of new potential products that may benefits the Nors, he’ll make whatever comes at the top of his head, and most of the time it’ll lead him to make the most outrageous and unnecessary items. Beatrix prefers to remain in his lab/home at all times, rendering his social interactions with the three factions to be limited via holographic meetings.

‘Nyx’ Pierrot

Leader of Vanidicus Persona, she is one of the oldest Nors - next to Constantine - making her the default leader of her faction. Much about her is a mystery. Even her behavior can be viewed as... questionable. Not outlandish, that’s Sound’s department. Her behavior is so odd that it’s enough to baffle even Belial. She takes her leadership over her faction very seriously, however, as part of her nature, the requirements in joining and maintaining your membership vastly deviates from the original. However, looks can be deceiving. Aside from her seniority, there is a reason why she was given the position of leader.

Mitchell Pierrot

He prefers to be called as ‘Mitch’ after being told, and proven, by his sister how much of a tongue twister his name is if repeated constantly in a single conversation. While he is the younger brother of Nyx, Mitch opted to become a submember of Tunera Clypse upon undergoing the Ascension Ceremony to be in the same faction as his mentor, Perseus Vlahos. Compared to the Nors in his batch, he is viewed as weak by many as he is unable to perform the abilities that is expected of him to develop after becoming a Nors.

Constantine L. Refrain

Nothing is truly known about him except that he’s a chronic smoker. Nobody truly knows who he is, no one even knows which faction he belongs to. It’s nearly impossible to question these things as he is constantly surrounded by a shroud of - barely tolerable - smoke. All that is known is that he’s been around longer than most of the Ex-Animus. Constantine usually frequints the Silent Siren Bar, staying there for hours until he’s either drunk or needs to receive another pack of cigarretes from Beatrix. He says they’re for medicinal purposes buuuuut...

I’m pretty sure black smoke isn’t normal.

Stefan Mal Sorcier

Is Percy’s second pupil. Although, it was more like Percy was forced into taking in another after his continual refusal to become leader of Infernum Poncitator. Outwardly, he is aloof and always appears smiling, which unsettles Mitchell even when they’re alone. His politeness is found unusual by many and causes others to feel wary around him. Even the dragon finds himself is unable to remain in the same vicinity as the young man. Despite being full of many secrets, Percy accepts him as is and tries his best to teach him all he can, which Stefan appreciates.

Kyline Necro

Considered as the mascot ambassador of Avarus, like the soul that was fused with her upon birth, she mostly lounges around and has little participation in any missions in and out of Avarus. This has caused her to be disliked by many, most especially Ayane. The only person Kyline has gotten close to is Noise; mostly because they share the same favored sleeping spot. On a side, she acts a physician, or surgeon if you like to get technical. She has a strange fondness of picking apart and replacing specific limbs with doll parts.

Yu-Yan Chi Ryou

Was once one of the strongest Nors from Xavier’s batch until he was inflicted by an unknown disease during one of his missions. While there is no name for the disease, it has caused much of his bones to undergo crystallization; rendering him immobile due to the pain that comes from even the smallest of movements. Since he is incapable in participating in any activities, Yu-Yan has since been forced to be confined to a wheel chair for the rest of his life.

Anita Eine Kleine

Is the fighting instructor of the Mongrels and a member of Infernum Poncitator. Anita is a highly-skilled caster, able to conjure and manipulate various elements. She absolutely hates the term ‘witch’, even going as far as to cast a minor curse in making a person temporarily mute if they refer to her as one. Which Sound found rather offensive when he found out about the curse, something she deeply apologized for. She participates in some Scouting Missions but only if personally requested by someone from Tunera Clypse.

Victor Stein

Is Beatrix’s (only living) research assistant. He is the sole survivor of the Night of the Black Moon. Although having physically recovered, the damage to his mental state has left a deep scar on his psyche. He fears yet obsesses over the sensation of pain. There is not one instance where he isn’t found sowing over his own intact skin. While Victor knows his addiction found uncomfortable by others, he finds it extremely difficult to control his urges.

Wolfram

Grandfather of Ulric and most of his siblings, he is an Ex-Anima (or retired Nors) and a former member of the original Mythral. As the more experienced and one of the longest surviving resident of Avarus, he acts as a mentor to those who seek his guidance. However, in terms of combat, his skills are very limited as he has become permanently stuck in his wolf form. The only grandchildren he's ever personally met are Ulric and Seeing, who have both ironically became his favorite. While acting as a mentor, he is rather strict, constantly parting lessons in order to make sure none make the same mistakes he committed when he was younger, many of which he refuses to share.

Diantha Anemone

Despite being still a Liberi, Dia still participates in many activities meant to be done only by Nors. She originally wanted to become a part of Tunera Clypse due to the many adventures imparted by Sound. But after having a first hand experience in one, it traumatized her to the point where she wants to merely work as a Librarian, a position many people avoid.

Echo & Yell

Fellow teammates of Sound and Noise. As part of the four heads leaders that overwatch many of Tunera Clypse's activities, both in and out of Avarus. They mostly take charge of delegating the members while the other two take an active role in leading many scouting missions off-world. Contradicting her name, like Sound and Noise, her personality is the completely opposite. Due to her sociophobia, she is extremely shy and is unable to speak when talked to, only whispering her sentences as she talks. Yell, however, is the only one whose personality fits the mantle she inherited. Due to her curse, she has to raise her voice after every two hours. If not, she will fall into a coma, and she can only be awaken by *************.

Important Figures

Belial

Credits to: @airtrees0507 (Again, another artist who... disappeared from the internet. How do I keep finding refrences where the artist is just gone?)

Is a Celestial and the younger brother of Soleil. However, despite his godly status, he does not have any of the expected gifts. Neither a god of creation, life, or death, he has been given the title God of Void by his peers. Because of this, he is incapable of maintaining Avarus by himself, forcing him to use alternative (and questionable) means in preserving the world his sister created. Like his title, Belial is unable to express emotions, giving blank demeanor. He does, however, hold some semblence of emotions within him. Yet despite this, he has little to no understanding of life, death and emotions. Even after centuries since he over his sister’s role as Patron God, he still has no understanding to all living things, almost to the point of coming off as insensitive and heartless.

Belial has a deep devotion to his sister, having gone through great lengths to make sure to maintain her world and willingly sacrifice the lives of many. Despite knowing her distaste towards such acts, he holds onto the hope of one day finding her.

Soleil

Credits: Um... Lucare Eu??? Sorry, I’m just basing it off the signature. Once again, can’t find the artist themself so...

The true patron goddess of Avarus and the older sister of Belial. Aside from her status as the original creator and caretaker of her world and the life that once flourished within it, not much is known about her. While her exact cause of death is unknown, she was cursed to live an endless cycle of death and rebirth in various worlds. In order to restore the world she created and loved dearly, Belial dedicated his life in searching for her soul and freeing her of her curse. As a Celestial, she was said to have chosen to take the form of her first ever creation and first mortal friend.

It is said that, despite having blessed with the gift of creation, she was known to be a lonely goddess. Those that new her describe as someone that’s physically there but is spiritually detached.

The Oracle

Is a title given to those with the ability to commune and guide the spirits to the Empyrean Plain, more specifically Avarus’ residences due to the absence of Soleil. The Oracle acts as the divine anchor on the world to aid Belial in prolonging the world’s existence. They are also the main source of Belial’s divine power; both of which are maintained through her prayers. The gender and species of the Oracle is non-specific, but it if preferred by Belial if they are humanoid and have the ability of speech for the sake of communication.

The current Oracle is Aniela Fischl, who, unlike her predecessors, is able to foresee various futures. She does so by carefully peeking through the leylines and selects various possibilities that solely benefit Avarus. No one is allowed to meet her except Belial and her assigned Seekers.

The Seekers

The guardians, caretaker, and acting medians between the Oracle and the residents of Avarus. Their duty is to ensure that the chosen Oracle remains within the Spiral Tower and that he/she fulfills their duty, even going as far as to grant their wish regardless of the consequenses. Each Seeker has only one desire, and that’s to protect the Oracle at all times.

Races

Liberi

Age Range: Birth or 5 to 10 years

Although that is the official term, ‘Mongrel’ is what they are commonly referred as. It is the used for the for the children taken to or born in Avarus. Mongrels spend most of their young lives training within the safe walls of the Aldebaran Academy. They are forbidden from leaving as, according to Belial, they are the extremely fragile during this point of their lives. Regardless of their age, depending on how well they’ve performed in training, they will be given the right of undergoing the Ascension Ceremony. Those who fail are xxxxxxxx xx.

Due to their young age, their behavior is more sporadic than that of a normal child. Their reflexes are enhanced, almost to the point where it becomes difficult to contain them. Mongrels lack common sense so they tend to act out without fully understanding the impact their actions have. While childish and friendly by nature, Travellers are advised to approach with caution. Those who act beyond the expected norm are called Prodigies.

Quietus Nors

Age Range: (Physically) 14-19, (Mentally) 10 or above

Or simply called, Nors. After their graduation, every Nors is immediately sent to work. Depending on the final results of their training prior to undergoing the ceremony/procedure, each is individually assigned into one of the three factions ; Infernum Poncitator, Vanidicus Persona, and lastly, Tunera Clypse (formerly called Tunera). Those that are assigned to neither of the factions are assigned to more menial jobs alongside the Ex-Animus,

Despite their young minds, they have quickly adapted into their new forms. Due to time becoming almost non-existant in Avarus, Nors age at a rapidly slow rate. Though known to be childish by nature due to the gap of their young minds to their bodies, they dangerously lack empathy and display little to no compassion and remorse towards others. In worst cases, some act selfishly on their own accord. On a positive note, they lack any emotions that may hinder their mission in locating Soleil; such as fear.

Only two of the three current generations of Nors differ greatly from the first:

First Generation Nors - Are those converted or directly born within Avarus with the blood of two Nors. Those born in the first generation share two specific physical characteristics; raven black hair and golden eyes. They all share the same abilities upon conversion/birth, but it depends on the individual which ones they should master. Unless they happen to be a Cursed Blood, they are unable to obtain different abilities to call their own. They are required to undergo the Ascension Ceremony.

Second Generation Nors - In terms of personality, they are considered half as bad as those in the first gen. Unlike the previous, second generation Nors are considered slightly weaker, however, they have a better chance of obtaining other abilities outside of Avarus. Their hair is slightly lighter shade of black but their eyes remain the same. They too are required to undergo the Ascension Ceremony.

Third Generation Nors - While rare, they do tend to appear once in a while. It’s not exact how one falls into this category. The closest is being the grandchild or who has an anscestor that was a Nors. Because of their circumstances, these Nors are far weaker as they cannot use any of the standard abilities. Third Generation Nors are far difficult to locate as their potential doesn’t surface until they are of a much later age, rendering them incapable of taking necessary training to hone their abilities and undergoing the Ascension Ceremony. They do not share the common personality or physical traits of a Nors. One thing every Nors in this generation share are sky blue eyes, which emit a faint glow when in the dark.

Ex-Animus (or Anima for singular)

Age Range: (Physically) 30 to 40, rarely appears in their early 20′s

Are individuals who are retired from their duties as a Nors. Although Nors generally age at an excessively slow rate (due to the effects of Avarus), after a number of cycles (which refers to the number of batches that underwent the Ascension Ceremony), they will be given the order to retire. Regardless whether they are willing to or not, there is nothing they can do once the order has been issued. Once one becomes an Ex-Anima, they are completely cut off from their original faction and are unable to leave Avarus for the rest of their life.

Not only that, they are unable to defend themselves like they used to as they can no longer control Astral Dust and use the abilities from their time as a Nors,Basically. Basically, Ex-Animus’ are left to fend for themselves.

Factions

Every Nors is allowed to join any of the three factions; Infernum Poncitator, Vanidicus Persona , and Tunera Clypse. There is an option to not join any of the factions; they are called ‘Floaters’.

3 notes · View notes