☆ decadence divine [ act I ]
{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina
{☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader
{☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied)
{☆} word count 2.3k
ARLECCHINO
Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.
She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.
They weren't making it easy, however.
Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.
Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.
Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.
All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.
"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."
Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.
Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.
NEUVILLETTE
Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.
Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.
He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.
Now a masquerade.
He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.
So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.
Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.
No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.
Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?
He dares not ponder.
Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.
"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.
"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..
He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.
"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.
He had waited too long.
No longer.
FURINA
Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.
But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..
They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.
Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.
They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.
But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.
Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.
She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.
Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.
But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.
"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.
Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.
Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.
She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.
"But if you want to make it up to me.."
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Oh, oh, I thought of another one after I'd put my laptop away!! How was Ryn's relationship with her Cerberus crewmates in ME2? Did she warm up to any in particular/did she become closer to some than others?
OH! This is a fabulous question thank you so much <3 this might get long af, I'm not sure yet. (Edit to add: it sure did. Whoops)
I think before anything it's very important to understand how Ryn comes into ME2. Because uh...she's not thrilled about being brought back/resurrected/whatever because it freaks her tf out. She does not feel like she's in her own body (I guess she's...not?), she doesn't understand how to reconcile what happened and where she is not annnnd let's be honest no one ever really seemed to think "hey, has anyone considered that Ryn may definitely not be Okay?" (in game at least, we'll get to that). She's deeply unnerved by being brought back and the subtle things Cerberus seems to know about her that they shouldn't (I'm working on a fic about that eyy).
It was the intimate inaccuracies that unnerved her the most.
Her hair was slightly darker than it had been, walking the fine line between wine-red and brunette instead of auburn.
However they’d regrown it, it was thicker than it should’ve been after years of being thrown up in a tight Alliance-regulations bun or braid. It looked like they’d used her most recent pictures, from when she’d pinned Commander two…no, now four, years ago.
The second thing to understand about Ryn is that she hates working with Cerberus. She saw firsthand in ME1 the really fucked up stuff Cerberus was doing, and that she's been brought back by them is...not okay with her. She rails against it again, and again, and again, until there's finally this sense of learned helplessness about it because she's pretty severely trapped. She damns the world, her friends, her family, if she leaves and someone needs to stop what's happening.
Overall, Ryn in ME2 is a much angrier Ryn than we've ever seen. Not towards the people out there she tries to help, or to her crew, but she is filled with so much anger--at the Illusive Man, at Cerberus, at the fact that no one is listening to her.
Whoo! Okay I'm going to stop myself there because I could go on and on with how Ryn struggles with working w/ Cerberus and reconciling the idea that she's alive again. I'm stuffing the rest beneath a cut.
For the crew! To put it bluntly, she gets along terribly with her Cerberus crew mates. Especially Miranda to begin with. In her eyes, Miranda is the one responsible for her being brought back, for being a tool to the Illusive Man. She feels as if information is being kept from her, and that all comes to a head regarding Archangel (as seen in Dog Tags)
But that was Garrus out there in the medbay, blown to shit from a missile. Garrus, who she’d found when looking for some ‘mysterious figure’ named Archangel . Garrus, who the Illusive Man had said was unreachable.
If Dr. Chakwas told Ryn that she needed to leave and cool off, then she would’ve. But it was Miranda, in that chilly, above-everyone-else tone who’d told her to calm down.
Then it was Jacob who had pulled her off Miranda, when Ryn had finally snapped and shoved the Cerberus brat up against the wall, biotics snapping around her as she’d shouted that they had lied to her, making her believe she was alone. Allowed her to find Mordin first when Garrus was cornered and under siege.
Ryn and Miranda get along like dumping a bunch of gasoline out and turning a flame-thrower on it. Miranda sees Ryn as a lose canon who's being uncooperative on purpose and screwing them all over, Ryn sees Miranda as someone wanting to use her like a puppet and holding the people she cares about hostage. I really cannot describe how much the whole Garrus-cident set Ryn off like a bomb. She becomes feral-ly protective of the people who were on her crew that rejoin the Normandy SR-2.
They actually become friendlier as ME2 progresses and they begin to humanize each other, but it isn't until ME3 that they really because tentative friends.
With Jacob...Ryn also doesn't get along with him lol. Once again due to the whole Cerberus thing. She cannot comprehend how someone can look at the organization she's seen throughout ME1--committing atrocities and war crimes, and go "yeah, I'll stand by that" even if it was like the Alliance was doing nothing (because believe me, Ryn has her bones to pick with the Alliance too). And honestly? One of her biggest things with her Cerberus crew members is how she feels as though they dismiss her and don't see her as human to start out with. They just see Commander Shepard. A successful product of Project Lazarus. Again, as things go along, they become more cordial and friendlier as she gets to know him and his nuances. But she will never agree with Miranda and Jacob working for Cerberus.
Ryn does however end up pretty close with the rest of the crew! Mordin and Dr. Chakwas end up in this unlikely alliance to make sure Ryn doesn't snap and lose her absolute shit as ME2 goes on. Ryn works really hard to understand where he came from with the genophage, just like she does the rest of everyone's stories (because, wonderfully, no one in ME2 is unflawed! Which is awesome).
Thane is probably the companion she ends up closest to outside of her core of old SR1 companions (out of those, she's closest with Garrus and Tali, who she considers her best friends (and eventual more than that with Garrus obv) as she finds something very...quieting about being around him. He seems to understand something about Ryn's state of mind that even she doesn't and is a welcome presence to just sit quietly with.
Jack is...rough. To put it nicely she doesn't like Ryn at first. For a multitude of reasons, many being that Ryn, in her eyes, tries too hard for the world. She's too self-sacrificing, too altruistic, to the point that Jack is convinced she's not doing it authentically (nope, Ryn is just Like That. Some people will burn the world to the ground for those they love, Ryn will burn herself to the ground if it means their safety). Like most, they come around to each other, but it isn't until ME3 that they start to see more eye to eye.
Grunt is just standoffish to Ryn for most of the game. Ryn extends the olive branch time and time again, and eventually they reach mutual respect. Ryn and Samara also exist in a state of mutual respect and that's about it, Samara is very intent on her mission and her purpose and Ryn doesn't know how to break past that.
TL;DR: Ryn becomes a lot closer with many of the SR2's companions when she isn't under the Illusive Man's thumb. She may be depressed as fuck, on the verge of a complete mental break in ME3 but goddamn if she isn't much easier to get along with when she's not constantly railing against Cerberus and fighting against the Illusive Man's control.
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