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throwaway-yandere · 5 months

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𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting.

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either.

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white.

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?"

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man.

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts.

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species."

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

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therobotmonster · 1 year

Photo

DinoFolk Character Tokens, Part 2 (pt 1 is here)

Another 10 Dinosaur-Folk tokens I made for the D&D game I’m playing in, to fill out the world that Albert Sauros, Noted Spiritualist, comes from. In this case a world of Victorian Dinosaurs. This set of character tokens was made with Midjourney v4.

In your game/head, they can be any fancy reptile-humanoids you like! Use them for character portraits, game tokens, inspiration for a new PC (or OC) or tag yourself, as you like.

While these are all modified with cleanup and compositing, these are all free to use for anyone who wants to, thus I have not signed these pieces to make things easier.

Prompt format:

a <either dinosaur or specific species>-anthro <profession>, 18th century clothing (or other descriptor), character design, white background, fantasy character art, colored line art, in the style of 1st edition D&D, <artist/style references>

For style references I wound up mostly with a Tony Diterlizzi/Norman Rockwell mashup.

#dungeons and dragons #D&D #pathfinder #lizardfolk #dinosaur folk #dinofolk #dinosaurs #scalie #RPG tokens #paper miniatures #midjourney #ai art #midjourney v4 #albert sauros

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watchoutforthefanfics · 7 months

Text

Ticking Love Bomb (Part One) || Eleventh Doctor × gn!Reader

Part 1...

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references of guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

A/N: This is a lil angsty so be ready!!! Enjoy :)

The room was filling with a sort of pink gas, at least it looked pink. Maybe like a salmon color?

The walls were bland, white and tall, and the lights were fluorescent. If you didn't know any better, you would've assumed you were in a hospital of some kind.

"Uh, Doctor… What-" you spoke watching as the gas pooled in around your feet, "What is that?"

He paused, taking a few sniffs, and mumbling to himself before answering, "A potion. They must-"

He stopped, eyebrows drawn in confusion, "Well, they must not know who I am, this won't work on Gallifreyans. It's kind of like that one poison that just makes us sleep for a few centuries but could turn a human to dust-"

"Doctor," you interrupted, hand placed on his shoulder to shake him out of his mind, "-as much as I love a bit of rambling, now's really not the time."

"Right," he corrected, straightening up and glancing around the room (for an escape you assumed), "-I don't see-"

"Hello, my doves," a voice boomed through the room, bouncing off the terribly empty walls, "-having fun yet, are we?"

It was prim and proper, a thick accent in a tone you recognized as 'all-knowing'. She seemed to be readily in control of the situation, and the Doctor… didn't seem to have a clue.

"What is it? What is she filtering in here?"

"Well," he answered, peering at the gas which was now at mid-calf, "-I'm not entirely sure. My best guess is it's a mix of potions, hastily made based on the composition. There's no real proper composure to it, an amateur is the most suspect. Or maybe someone who just wants results?"

"Doctor," you groaned, your fingers starting to swirl the pink around you, "-what is it and how will it affect me?"

"Human, right," he blinked, looking at you solidly for a moment, before turning down to his sonic, watching it buzz, "-I'll see what components are in it and that should-"

He stopped mid-sentence, body frozen and eyebrows furrowed even more, and… was he- was he blushing?

"You must understand now?" The voice continued, tone light with amusement, "The potion was never for you, Doctor; it really was to tear you away from your sidekick. I know how terribly fond you are of them in particular, and thought… this may be the perfect leverage opportunity."

"Doctor, what are they talking about?"

He didn't answer you, just set his eyes on what appeared to be a camera in the corner, "What do you want from me?"

You blinked, ready to argue with the Doctor about just… giving in (the Universe was far more important than you), but something else caught your attention.

It was the smell, god, it smelt just like roses in here. So fresh and beautiful, you could almost smell the morning dew on the thorns. It was so… wonderful.

"Y/N?" he spoke, you knew that voice, you really did, but it just smelt so nice in here. You couldn't help but picture the velvety petals beneath your fingertips, the grass underneath your shoes, the rays of sun on your face.

In an instant, your eyes fluttered shut -finding comfort in the warmth. It was like a warm sunny day on the beach, so nice to just… absorb.

"Y/N, darling-" the voice continued, "-can you hear me?"

And just like that, your brain was doused in, what felt like, a cold bucket of water -the rosy pink glow in your head faded, leaving a bit of paranoia in its wake.

"Alright, Y/N," he explained, calmly, "-listen to me carefully, don't-"

Before he could even finish, your eyes flew open, eyes landing on his green ones -searching for some solace. It was almost an instinct, hearing his voice, you just had to search for him.

"Y/N, wait-" He sputtered, eyes connecting with yours, "-why do you never listen to me? You weren't supposed to-"

He paused, staring at you for a moment (almost analyzing you), you blinked.

"Y/N, are you… are you feeling anything?"

"I, uh," you paused rubbing at your eyes for a second and just having a little check in, "-I don't feel anything different, why? Am I supposed to?"

"Well," he looked at you in wonder, and did that thing where he scrambled for a moment, "-yes."

"What?" The voice boomed again, disbelief coating her tone, "You… Why didn't it work? Doctor, what have you done?"

"I didn't-"

You interrupted, confused, "Wait, what's supposed to be happening to me right now?"

The voice answered, a bit more polite than an assumed antagonist should, "You are supposed to fall in love with whomever you see, it's perfectly disposed in the human genes, I don't-"

You blinked, oh.

"Well, I don't-" you inhaled, trying to calm your internal storm at the fact that the Doctor was looking at you like he just knew, but he couldn't have (could he?), "I feel normal, so…"

"Well, then," she spoke, tone a bit surprised but seemingly knowing, "-let's just hope we don't have any after effects, shall we?"

"What do you-"

The Doctor interrupted, voice stern, "Your potion just didn't work, there are no after effects."

"We shall see, Doctor, we shall see."

And with that… ominous answer, there was a click on the large gray door that had sealed them off before, an unlocking -assumedly.

In an instant, the Doctor grabbed your hand, and pulled you out of the room -where the fumes still lingered. You could smell the hint of roses in the air, and your head started to hurt a little bit from the memory of how strong it once was.

"Hey uh, Doctor?" You asked, slowly following a step behind him through the cavernous hallways, "What did they-"

"Shush," he spun around to you, and without hesitation, put his fingers to your neck (checking a pulse?), "-okay, good. A little fast but, alright so far.

Your face was burning hot and you could barely breathe. Your skin tingling where his fingers once were.

"Doctor, can you please explain what's going on? You act like I'm a ticking time bomb-"

He flinched.

"Wait, am I-" you exhaled shakily, pulling your hand out of his, "-am I on a timer? I can't hurt you, I really can't-"

"Y/N," he spoke, voice soft -a kind of gentle whisper-, "-calm down, okay?"

"I'm not-" you huffed, voice shaking ever-so-slightly, "I can't until you tell me what's going on!"

He exhaled, a deep sigh through his body, and you knew that look in his eyes well, an old man who'd seen worlds crash and burn.

"A lot of people have this idea that putting 2 similar things alike can make a better thing," he began, "-objectively, anyway. Scientifically through, that doesn't work, things clash and spark and burst. Like putting two ends of a magnet close to each other, they repel."

“And, that means?” you asked, tone questioning.

"The person who did this to you, tried to make a, objectively, better potion that was compiled of the same things that 2 other potions had," he continued, hand still locked with yours as you roamed down the hall, "This, being done haphazardly didn't really work."

“So, what, Doctor? What’s-”

“Your-” he started, eyes falling in a huff, “-Your heart is a ticking time bomb.”

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #enjoy part one #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

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antoniosvivaldi · 2 months

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Oh I’m sorry I have GOT to ask! How did you do the text animation in the first gif of 718688291365502976/pscentral-event-15-favourite-ships-kanej?? It’s just. It’s so beautiful

Hi anon! I've used After Effects to create the text animation in the first panel of this post. I'll show you the basic idea of how I've created the animated text effect here :D

What you need:

A cutout font (the font that I've used is Trouble Child Outblack by @justlikethistrain)

Adobe Photoshop with Video Timeline feature

Adobe After Effects

Supplementary files: gif prep action pack / golden outline layer style / assorted textures

Difficulty: advanced; knowledge in gifmaking with the video timeline interface assumed

Note: This tutorial assumes that you're working with all of the composite gifs in a Photoshop composition file and using the video timeline interface

Other useful tutorials to refer to: Text overlay effect / After Effects text animation / clipping mask vs layer mask

Tutorial under the cut. Like / reblog if you find this useful!

1) Photoshop: Preparing your gif panel

Setting up your PSD composition panel: Create a blank PSD file and set it to Tumblr dimensions (540px x 540px in this particular gifset)

Enable Video Timeline and drag all of the component gifs from your folder to the PSD composition file. Resize / move these gifs around until you're happy with the placements.

Trim the timeline work area so it's the same length as the shortest component gif you've added to the PSD composition file. You can also add some textures & additional adjustment onto this panel.

2) Photoshop: Exporting your base gif

I highly recommend exporting the base gif right now, to ensure a smoother experience scrubbing through the video timeline when adding finishing touches later on in the workflow.

My preferred method is to render the composition as a video clip from File > Export > Render video.

To get the optimal export quality, I use the following settings:

3) Photoshop: Preparing your text layer

Make a new Photoshop composition file of Tumblr dimensions

Drag in the video clip that you've just rendered (the base gif) to this composition file

Add a new text layer in your PSD composition file and set the colour to white then tweak this layer until you're happy with the text placement.

For performance optimisations on After Effects, I duplicate the PSD composition file and delete all other layers. This PSD file contains only the text layer that will be animated.

4) Photoshop: Adding overlays & decorations on the text layer

This step allows you to preview the text effect without the animations (i.e. allows you to tweak the texturings & colourings)

Duplicate the text layer. Set the bottom layer's (highlighted in red) blend mode to Exclusion and apply the gold outline layer style to the top layer (highlighted in green). Make sure the Inner Shadow is disabled!

The panel now looks like this

I want to have the liberty to use different colours & textures on the bottom text layer with animation, so the next thing I do is to right click on the bottom text layer and select "Group from Layers"

To change the colour of the filled text layer to purple:

Collapse the Group that you've just created

On top of the collapsed Group a purple Colour Fill layer,

Set the Fill layer's blend mode to "Colour"

Right click on the Fill layer and select "Create Clipping Mask"

Now the colour of the filled text layer is purple

After adding more textures & decorations on the text layer (with photo negative effects) I get the following:

5) Photoshop: Adding overlays & decorations on the text layer

To avoid performance issues on After Effects, I make a new PSD file of the same dimension. With both the PSD files open, I select the text layer (highlighted in red) while holding Shift, I drag this to the blank PSD file (see the green arrow)

Holding Shift ensures that the layer's placement is preserved when it's copied to a separate PSD file.

In the new PSD file, I set the text layer's blend mode to "Normal"

6) After Effects: Animating your text layer

Make a new project on After Effects and drag in the text layer PSD file. Import this file as a Composition

Also drag in the base gif video clip to the AE project.

While we won't be exporting anything with the base gif visible, having this file in the project file is useful if you want to have a better picture of how the animation will look in tandem with the gif.

Double click on the composition. Hide the colour fill and background layers. Then right click on the text layer, go to Create > Convert to Editable Text

To be able to preview the animation with the base gif, drag the video clip to the composition file and below the text layer. The visibility of the layer can be toggled on / off anytime in the After Effects workflow

Now we prepare the text layer to be animated. Because the final animated effects is 3D & has motion blur, right click on the text layer and select "3D layer" (highlighted in green) and Switches > Motion Blur (highlighted in red)

Go to Animation Presets > Text to browse through some presets that you could use to animate the text layer. For this gifset, I've used a preset within the 3D Text folder called "3D Random Spike Tumble in".

While selecting your text layer, press U to view the keyframes and you can adjust the position of these keyframes until you're happy.

For more finishing touches, press U again to tweak more options in this preset. In this case, I do to Animato 1 > Range Selector and changed the Colour Fill to #fff (the default colour is light yellow)

Then do you File > Export > Add to Render Queue

Click on the Output Module and use the following settings to render the text layer as a video file with transparency

Then after specifying the folder in which you'll export the video to, click "Render" to render the video file containing your animated text layer.

7) Photoshop: Adding the animated text & finishing touches

On Photoshop, drag the rendered clip containing animated text, to the PSD composition file with the static text layers.

Duplicate the animated text video layer

Drag one of the layers inside Group 1 and set the blend mode to "Exclusion" (Highlighted in green)

Move the other layer to the top and apply the gold outline layer style with Inner Shadow disabled (highlighted in red)

Hide both text layers (highlighted in yellow)

By scrubbing through the timeline, I've noticed that the animation didn't look clean enough, so I'll add some finishing touches

By selecting the upper text layer containing layer styles, go to the timeline and add opacity keyframes going from opacity 0% to 100% a few frames apart

Once you're happy with the finishing touches, flatten / render your PSD composition file, change the frame delay to 0.05s and export your gif and voila!

I hope this helps 💖

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deepdreamnights · 1 year

Text

DinoFolk Character Tokens, Part 4 (pt 1, pt 2, pt 3)

the last 10 Dinosaur-Folk tokens I made for the D&D game I’m playing in, to fill out the world that Albert Sauros, Noted Spiritualist, comes from. In this case a world of Victorian Dinosaurs, this set being mostly maid staff and professors from the University. This set of character tokens was made with Midjourney v4.

In your game/head, they can be any fancy reptile-humanoids you like! Use them for character portraits, game tokens, inspiration for a new PC (or OC) or tag yourself, as you like.

While these are all modified with cleanup and compositing, these are all free to use for anyone who wants to, thus I have not signed these pieces to make things easier.

You can download all 40 here.

Prompt format:

For style references I wound up mostly with a Tony Diterlizzi/Norman Rockwell mashup.

#dungeons and dragons #D&D #pathfinder #lizardfolk #dinosaur folk #dinofolk #dinosaurs #scalie #anthroart #rpg tokens #free art #paper miniatures #midjourney v4 #midjourney ai #ai art #albert sauros

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pearlywritings · 2 years

Text

The Music of the Night

synopsis: these are pretty much snippets with Genshin men that combine night and music in different forms, picturing sweet moments of your relationship with them.

pairing: Diluc, Kaeya, Capitano, Pierro, Zhongli, Venti, Dottore, Dainsleif, Ayato, Childe, Pantalone (separately) x reader

tw: fluff, some parts have small portion of hurt/comfort, weapons and sparring in Capitano's part, abyss beasts in Capitano's part

word count: 8k+ words in total

a/n: I love the Phantom of the Opera, bear with me

Diluc

Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses…

Nimble fingers caress the white and black keys and draw an intricate melody from within the depths of an old instrument. Despite its age, the piano is always taken care of, sounding as clear as it did in its «youth»; your husband always makes sure to invite a professional monthly to tune it, knowing how much you like it. Probably this is one of the very few things that found its place in the Dawn Winery after he hastily got rid of his family mansion, and you are happy it did.

As the pads glide and press, you try to imagine young Diluc, playing it as a part of his home education. You wonder if he truly enjoyed it, or endured it because it was in his schedule. Even if it was the latter, knowing how skilled and talented the redhead is, you are sure, the melodies he performed were nothing but perfect. Nowadays the man rarely touches it, prefering to rather listen to you.

Now there is no one to listen - the maids and winery workers left long ago and the only person remaining is Adelinde, who is most likely sleeping in her room. It’s 3 a.m. after all, but tonight you can’t rest properly without your husband beside you.

A sigh escapes your lips, as you draw the music to an end, lingering just a little bit after the last bar’s duration ends. There is a soft shuffle when you rearrange the sheets to choose a new composition to play. It’s so comforting, you think, feeling the ink-covered pages under your fingertips - those must be from the times when Master Crepus’s son was just a boy, learning the wonders of music, and the thought fills you with warmth.

As you start the next melody you fail to notice the presence of another person in the room. Diluc has just returned home and, upon hearing the delicate sounds of an old piano, made his way to where he knew he’d find you. His beaked mask and black cloak are discarded, gloves joining them on the sofa soon after.

He doesn’t want to scare you, which might be a hard task, yet his hands brush against your shoulders in such a familiar manner, that you only barely shiver, almost missing a note, but relaxing right away.

“Hello, my love,” his voice murmurs next to your ear and then lips press to your temple. Hands slide down to your waist and with a small movement he urges you to move to one side of the piano stool. Effortlessly you do so, and in a moment his body slides next to yours.

“Allow me to take over the left hand,” he whispers and you nod. As your fingers leave the keyboard his take over almost immediately, accompanying the main melody of your right hand.

You let your head rest on his shoulder, free hand finding his and intertwining them. He is so warm and big, holding onto you tenderly but firmly, reminding you, he is here, and you have nothing to worry. You do not, not anymore at least, as you feel him relax next to you, taking down the walls he surely put once again before leaving your shared home and into the night.

“I thought you didn’t like playing,” he hums at your words, touching the keys expertly, maybe only a little bit stiffly.

“I don’t dislike it,” Diluc admits, “simply don’t have time. When you occupy the piano, I have no desire to disturb.”

“And what about now?” you ask, slowly playing the music quieter and quieter. The man notices the diminuendo in the sheets and starts doing the same.

“Do I disturb you?”

“No, not at all… Actually, I really like it.”

The final bar arrives just in time, and, pressing the last chord, Diluc turns to face you, vermillion gaze filled with love. You sure yours mirror just the same emotion, eyelashes fluttering when a small smile appears on his handsome face.

“Yeah… I like it too.”

Kaeya

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender

Nearing the Knights of Favonius Headquarters you can clearly see that all the windows are dark, with the very few exceptions. Not surprised to see the light in Master Jean’s office you search for your lover’s higher and with a deep sigh don’t find it unlit. Well, seems it’s his place you are sleeping at tonight.

There is no one in the hallways and you practically tiptoe past Acting Grand Master's door, not wanting to disturb her with the taps of your soles against the tiled floor. The stairs are a safe place and you walk up as fast as you can, the next floor being your destination.

You don’t knock once in front of Kaeya’s office, quickly turning the knob and swinging it open. The man inside, slumped over his desk, quickly lifts his gaze, ready to dismiss whoever it can be, but turns surprised and the next second pleased when he notices you.

“Hello, snowflake,” his voice is hoarse, but with its usual flirting lilt. His whole posture changes, straightening up, shoulders broad and back a bit arched. Multiple cracks echo in a quiet room.

“Don’t tell me there was nothing, I heard that, Alberich,” you huff, closing the door and making your way to him. The man snorts in amusement, watching you with a star-marked eye. The quill is still held between his long ungloved fingers, and the chin is coming to rest on a palm of his free hand. He loves your voice so damn much, even if you scold him, it’s always music to his ears, and that he hears it on the night he thought he’d be alone and busy? How wonderful.

“What? I said nothing, my love, simply greeted you,” the smile on his lips is both playful and innocent, making you roll your eyes half-heartedly.

“Your back, Kaeya. It must be stiff as a rock, if your spine makes sounds like that,” you are now standing at his side, quickly scanning the table. There are two piles - a big and a very small, - and with relief you see how your lover grabs the paper he was writing on and places it on top of a big one.

“Mmm, maybe a little bit strained, nothing I can’t endu- ouch!” he hisses when you reach and carefully grab the skin near his nape between your thumb and forefinger. Well, if the slightest of pressing makes him jolt like that and give you a stinky eye, just how full of knots it is?

“Put your quill down and let’s go to your room. I am staying over.”

The Cavalry Captain looks at you disconently, but behind this mask you can see he is actually really excited. It’s cute how just one phrase, spoken with an edge of finality to it, makes him lose his composure on the inside. But Kaeya wouldn’t be Kaeya if he didn’t try to play hard to convince.

“I don’t know, love… I still have some papers to fulfill…”

“Kae, come on. You are clearly stressed and overworked. I worry about you,” the hand that remained at the nape of his nape gently slides down the expanse of his back, hidden behind nothing but his shirt and the corset of his high-waisted pants. “Think about the cuddles and kisses, and holding me close…” tempting is something you two are good at, and this is a fair offer the man would be an idiot to decline.

The Cryo user presses his body incredibly close to yours under the covers of his bed - not big enough to accommodate two adults properly, but doing two lovers a favor of a sweet proximity. Your fingers brush through his silky navy locks, massaging his scalp and neck as you softly hum a melody Kaeya is so familiar with. You sound so tender and he can’t help but rub his nose against your throat, feeling small vibrations within.

A giggle, then another one and many more as he litters your skin with small fleeting kisses. Moments like this he adores the most - together, alone, with nothing separating you and preventing him from letting go of his daytime worries and carefully crafted facade.

“Hum for me some more?” he quietly asks, eyes closed and lips lingering on your collarbone.

And send him on such a needed trip throughout the Dreamland? How can you possibly refuse.

Capitano

Turn your face away from the garish light of day

Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light

And listen to the music of the night

Metal clinks and clashes with ferocity no human can probably exude. Two silhouettes move in a thoroughly-calculated way with a speed that make them blur and sometimes mix into one big blot of black - darker than the color of the night. Eyes used to the darkness and ears trained to be a help not a bother stay focused on the opponent, trying to predict their actions and strike first to gain victory. One hand clenches around the handle of the sword, the other keeps the revolver charged. There are no bullets inside, of course - you don't want to wake the whole camp up (even though in any other situation using the real ones wouldn't be much of a problem). Instead the special training guns are loaded with paint capsuls to mark the place the person would be shot. And you've just felt one hit your cheek, a colorful blotch covering and a thick droplet rolling down your face. So much for not using a helmet, you roll metaphoric eyes at yourself and lunge forward, attempting to plunge the tip of the blade under his knee armor piece, only to be blocked and almost thrown backwards by the sheer force of his arm's push. Just in time the long body of your gun crashes in his, aimed at you, and both go flying - all by your own sheer strength.

"Ready to surrender, Capitano?" You smirk, shifting the blade more comfortably in your hand. Heated, you feel immense warmth under your armor and welcome the winter wind biting at your cheeks and nose. Well, maybe abandoning the helmet along with your military fur overcoat wasn't a bad idea.

The man before you doesn't even huff at your words, only raising his weapon for a new attack. His overcoat is lying somewhere with yours, leaving only his ink black armor and a dark void at the front of his helmet.

You share a few more blows before it's your weapon that falls out of your hand and disappears in a nearby snowbank. You raise your hands in surrender when the sharp tip is pressed against your throat, not against to draw blood, but quite enough to claim victory.

"3:1," you grin, readjusting your arms to stretch and pop a few bones. "Ah, what a night~ Blew the steam just right."

"You were furious," the Harbinger doesn't ask, he states the fact, bending down to fetch your weapon. You hum in acknowledgment, stepping aside to get the revolvers back.

"I am still a little bit. That ball we visited today…it annoyed me I had to be there as a guard and not as your partner, and then that human girl," you hiss between your teeth and for a moment your voice shifted to something more monstrous, "dared to try and throw herself at you. You are mine."

You hand the guns over to Capitano, which he takes to inspect. You use that pause to glance at the moon and the starless sky, happily accepting the darkness around you. You loved nights, especially since it was the time when you and your lover could finally be alone. He once apologized for having so little time during the day, but once reassured you don't mind, being a busy warrior yourself, he didn't bring it up anymore.

"Then I find it strange you didn't try to duel her."

"And kill her on the spot? While I don't mind, the paperwork and Lord Pierro's notations later would've been annoying. That's why I love being on a battlefield more. I know you are nearby and we are basically doing the same thing."

Capitano has already put all the weapons somewhere and is now standing directly in front of you, his full attention taken by you and you alone. His big armory clawed hand easily wraps around your waist while the other cups your face.

"Why do you keep insisting on such a small form?" He rumbles in a low voice, but not annoyed, there is actually a hint of wonder in his voice.

"It's easy to seem normal to anyone else this way. After all, we wouldn't want others to know what we are, right? Besides, it's small in comparison to you, actually it is an average human height."

There is a deep growl coming from the depth of his chest and you respond in the very same way. In the light of the day you couldn't let yourselves slip and show affection in the way your nature tells you to, only if on a battlefield, where the steel blades dance and lead bullets sing, where anyone would excuse your roars as the commanding war cries and think nothing of your ability to tear an enemy of the size of a Mitachurl in half with your bare hands.

But under the dark sky you could be honest with the beasts you two are and finally live a little, not worrying about a thing.

Pierro

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams

Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before

Snezhnaya is beautiful. Its architecture, its traditions and culture, its people, who endure the cold, but manage to stay warm… And the snow - that looks like a white fur blanket during the day and gleams magically in the lantern light at night.

It’s snowing. Tiny, intricate snowflakes are whirling as they fall, landing on your hair, on your lashes, on your extended hand. You think it's lovely, feeling them melt on your palm, losing their unique designs and becoming nothing but water droplets.

It never snowed in Khaenri’ah.

The memories cause something deep inside you twinge, and the impulse is much harsher than the coldness of this snowy land biting at your skin. The pain of losing everything is too fresh, even if the whirlwind of next events made it hard to settle fully at its peak.

"You foregone your cape again" a heavy fur fabric envelops your shoulders in a warm embrace and two big gloved hands settle on top of them. You don't need to turn away to know it's [...].

Oh… There actually is no point of uttering his real name as he has abandoned it in favor of serving the Tsaritsa, of becoming the first Harbinger, of becoming Pierro, "The Jester".

If only everything was really that funny as his code name suggested.

"I am still not used to it…" you sigh, wrapping it around yourself tighter. It's been only some years, maybe decades?

Not enough to forget.

Your lover is silent behind you, only his fingers slightly flex on your shoulders. You know for him it's hard as well, so many nights one or both of you have shared the nightmares that reflected the horrendous reality of the past, so many nights have been spent in attempts to comfort, and the same amount passed with staying awake just to escape the images inevitably flashing before your eyes when heavy lids fluttered closed.

Immortality has its perks and for you one of them is needing sleep less. Besides, night is such a magic time, it's dark and soothing with stars shining and snow sparkling like precious gems. It's a pity to lose a sight like that to the dreams that carry nothing but despair.

"Don't you think the snowflakes sing?" You ask instead reaching a hand to place on top of his and gently squeeze his fingers. There is a hum revibraring in his chest and he redirects his gaze from your figure to the falling water crystals.

"Sing? Maybe dance would be a better word, my heart," what used to be a sweet nickname now carries a little bit of a literal meaning - after losing everything, even his heart, you became the one for him.

And he became the one for you.

"No, they most definitely sing. It's very subtle, but the melody is here. It's pure but with potential to be powerful like a pipe organ in that church we saw a couple of months ago," it was some kind of a ceremony you didn't actually attempt to remember, staying there just to be close to your lover.

Immortality brought an understanding: you don't have to care much for things, they'll happen either way and you'll continue living no matter if you remember them or not.

Pierro stays silent, only letting go of one shoulder to wrap his hand around your middle to bring you closer. Maybe the snow does sing, but he can't hear it. A heart that started to harden to accommodate this foreign land, this new life, couldn't feel the same way it did before. The man finds his thoughts to be swallowed by guilt that right now he can offer you just a piece of his heart, the one that managed to stay warm and loving for you. But you are content with just a part of his heart, and Pierro is glad yours hasn't been hurt as deeply as his. He made sure to prevent it for as long as possible.

So if you hear the snow sing? Then maybe this land accepted you and you accepted this life. Thus he can stop worrying about your sanity that much and start working on creating a perfect future for you two.

After all, when it comes to you that's all he is dreaming about.

Zhongli

Close your eyes; let your spirit start to soar

And you'll live as you've never lived before.

The myriads of lanterns light the streets of Liyue late in the evening and long into the night, as another part of this beautiful city's life begins. Some shops close, the others open their doors, offering the wonders one could enjoy at its fullest only during the dark time of the day, and the main square is as lively as it's under the beaming sun.

Zhongli has a small content smile playing on his lips, slowly making his way further into the brightly lit space. With the posture upright and calm ember eyes closely observing everything around he could've been thought to be in the middle of attending to some sort of task, but his relaxed shoulders and hands clasped behind his broad back give out that he is merely on a late night stroll, basking in the animosity of the nation he built with his own two hands, the ones hidden under long sleeves and custom-made gloves.

Ever since the Archon faked his own death and retired to live as a mortal he couldn't help but feel fascinated - while playing a big role in all of that himself, his people did and do bring their homeland to prosperity, growing and advancing on their own, and that brings the former god’s mind at peace.

He senses a presence nearby, approaching with no hurry in the steps. This one is comforting, doesn’t prompt him to be on guard, existing by his side for far longer than he can remember.

"Living your best life, my beloved?" There is a gentle hand placed on his elbow and the man doesn't need to turn his head to know who it is - the only being in this whole world that can send jolts of sweet electricity through his body, pumping his veins with pure excitement and making an old stone heart flutter and crumble, and all of that with a simple touch, with a mere voice.

"Why of course, my treasure," Zhongli breaks the lock of hands on his lower back and offers an arm for you to latch on. A bare palm slides in a gloved one, fingers interlacing, and his eyes for a moment glow when they are cast upon your figure, foregone your usual adeptus attire and changed to the traditional Liyue clothing. An ex-Archon lets a pleased rumble rise in his chest, when he guesses a golden dragon twisting in the pattern of the fine fabric, circling around your body as if enveloping you in a tight hold - not many Liyue citizens would be bold enough to wear something with the Rex Lapis's symbols on display. How fortunate you are his precious partner.

"Where do we take our date today?" You ask curiously as the two of you resume leisurely walking through the main artery of this ancient city. Your husband lets a low hum melt in the sounds of the night.

“I was thinking we could visit Heyu Tea House. Miss Yun Jin is performing tonight, and Master Liu Su promised me the brand-new program. I am always happy to hear your ideas out however.”

“It is your turn to choose the place for a date, remember?” You softly chuckle and Zhongli relishes in the sound. “Besides, I love your suggestion. Don’t you think this night was made to be basking in the music, savoring the finest teas?”

“Yes, I do, my gem,” and he loves nights like this, when one simply sits and enjoys the many intricate things Liyue has to offer in the company of your loved one.

In the past, when he was an Archon - a mighty and glorified being - he had hundreds of celebrations and festivals in his honor, where he’d hear mellifluous instruments play and melodious voices sing. Those festivities were huge and lavish, all to show the gratitude his people felt for the god who brought them peace and ruled the nation wisely. But now, closing his eyes and letting the noises of this city fill his very soul, he finally feels united with his people, as one of his people. And that’s the experience he hopes to prolong and share with you for far beyond the end of this night.

Venti

Softly, deftly music shall caress you

Hear it, feel it secretly possess you

Joyful giggles join in the song of strings, creating a mesmerizing melody, lighter and clearer than a morning breeze. Two souls unite and music flows, created by the spirits and carried by the winds.

A verse so long forgotten, but so familiar still, the one you both gave life to was flowing like a stream. The words got mixed and lost their rhyme, but in your hearts you still remember what feeling they made bloom and make bloom all the same.

"Oh wind, what you're searching for so high in the sky? Why are you running away from the limits of earth?"

You both never had any limits. Born as elemental beings, transformed into wind spirits, you and Venti had so much in common. With human disguises the bond only grew, and it doesn't ruin anything, even though some would say that it's strange to be bound in any way for the ones whose main goal is freedom.

"What can you tell, dear wind, about blazing songs, that belong to the lightnings, you love gliding among?"

Oh, you both have many stories to share. You love listening to his voice, just like now, in the middle of the night, under the massive oak tree, singing a song you two wrote thousands of years ago. The laughter doesn’t die as you trip over your words or the bard misses a note occasionally. Maybe it's the wine that mixed your senses and ability to do it properly, or you simply didn't care for the form it existed in… After all, it is the feelings that matter, and it gives you plenty.

"What do you see, dear wind, flying above mighty waves? What are you singing about, raising them high?"

Aaaah, that was so much fun in the old days… You remember making stupid competitions of whose wave would be higher or whose would last longer… It always ended with you both completely wet, which gave an opportunity for sweet intimacy while preening each other’s wings, something you both got used to share among yourselves only, that now you can’t imagine anyone else doing so. Come to think of it, you haven’t done any of those stupid competitions in a while… Maybe you are drunk enough for it now?

“What are you thinking of, my wind, soaring above the mountains, whistling between the gray rocks... Touch me the same."

Thin delicate fingers stop plucking at the lyre, drawing the chords and the trills. They find their place on your body, and you feel like in the middle of a whirlwind, swirling and floating and the world moves like you ride a carousel from Fountain. Kisses are intoxicating, touches are maddening and the grass beneath your bodies is heavenly soft. You lose yourselves to the symphony of hushed giggles and breathless pants, your hearts merge into the aria that sings praise to the feelings, and your ears are filled with nothing but the orchestra of nature.

You gaze at Venti from above and see stars dancing in his vibrant eyes. He tastes like wine, he smells like cecilias, he sounds like a never-ending melody that lured you in and made you stay. You are addicted to the music that the Anemo god is and he cherishes the notes you add to the ballad of his existence.

“We didn’t get to finish the song,” the bard murmurs, lashes fluttering when your lips touch his cheek.

“You really want to stop now for the sake of some song?” you tickle his side and the young-looking male squirms under you, sporting a wide grin.

“Hehe, not ‘some song’! It’s our song,” he murmurs and even in the dark you can swear there is pink dusting his cheeks. Who would’ve thought a wind can be so sentimental. The wind that gives birth to the thunders, raises the waves, the wind that destroys the rock - and that’s what’s its law. Forever frolicking like an invisible bird, piercing the bounds of worlds and times...

Oh… It seems you are just as sentimental.

Dottore

Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind

In this darkness which you know you can not fight

The darkness of the music of the night

You don’t knock, because you know he detests it. Actually, he hates it when someone walks into his working space without permission (with permission it’s the same, but he won’t threaten a person at least). You are different though - the most you’ll get from him is an annoyed roll of his eyes or a teeth-baring sneer. He won’t force you out though, maybe only warn you if some of his upcoming experiments are rather…bloody, so you can leave on your own if you desire.

Today it’s quiet in his laboratory and the Harbinger is nowhere to be seen. You don’t even entertain the possibility that he has already called it a night - with a shitty sleeping schedule like this it’s extremely unlikely. Besides, he wouldn’t have left the lights on and the door unlocked.

So you move further into the spacious room. There are tables and cabinets filled with notes, and viles, mechanical parts, and all kinds of medical and technical tools. You step over the wires and move carts aside, to not trip or bump, knowing the booming laughter Dottore will not hold back if he sees you not being careful.

What is it?

You can swear you hear a distinct melody playing on your left. Only one way to find out, you think, and change the direction of your walking.

The closer you get, the more audible the sound is, until you spot a record player on a desk near the wall. It looks like something your partner would’ve created with his own hands and you step to it for a better observation. There is a smooth black record slowly spinning and you notice a couple more carelessly lying around the table surface. Before you can touch one though there is a rattling sound nearby, which makes you whip your head in search of its source.

Ah, of course, a part of a Ruin Guard hung on the chains that is being lifted in the air from its previous position barely above the floor. The higher it goes, the more of the scientist’s body behind it is revealed to you. No wonder you couldn’t spot him anywhere, the robot is huge.

"What are you doing here?" No greetings, as usual. Good to know that at least something doesn’t change in this world.

With a small smile you glance back at the record player and an idea appears in your head. Making the music a little bit louder you abandon the table and start walking towards him.

"Your insomnia is contagious,” catching the rhythm you sway a little, humming. Dottore doesn’t make a move in your direction, that is until you are just a couple of feet away. Then he makes just one step forward and allows you to comfortably bump into his body, resting his palms on your shoulders. Wow, he is in a good mood, it seems.The fact he didn't comment on how insomnia can't be contagious is a sign as it is too.

Maybe you can push your luck some more?

"Hey Dottore?" A hand reaches to his face and effortlessly lifts the mask off. Blood-red sharp eyes bore into you, but he doesn't make any attempts to stop you, only squinting.

"What? Spit it out."

"Dance with me?" You motion to the device behind you, that is playing the same melody, on a loop it seems. The man in front of you doesn't show any emotion, but by how he lowered his eyes a little you understand he is thinking about something.

“Alright," he suddenly says, taking a small step back and sliding his hands lower to your elbows.

“Alright?” you stare at him surprised. Usually he shooes you off with requests like that.

“Yes, alright, but only because my body could use some movement,” with a huff he places a firm grip on your waist, giving you an expectant look when you don't cooperate right away.

As you two are slowly swaying with your palms resting on his coat-covered shoulders, you think that nights are the best parts of the day. During the hours when the sun is up and shining brightly Dottore is scathing and exudes danger, but when the moon takes the sun's place in the sky, something in him calms down considerably and it’s much easier to deal with.

Yes, with this man nights are definitely so much better.

Dainsleif

Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world

Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before

Something tugs on a wearied heart when a tired gaze of a night sky drinks in the colorfully decorated streets. The flags are hanging on the ropes from one roof to another, fluttering from the briefest breath of wind. There are no symbols on the colorful fabric, but for a second an image of a royal emblem flushes, though it appears only in his memory. Pots at the front doors of the houses are full of bluish white flowers, but those are not inteyvats, though for a moment, a man without a nation is tricked to believe they are. There is a noise of hundreds of voices, but they speak of different things, even though Dainsleif wishes they were singing familiar praises.

“Looks like it’s a festival,” your voice awakens him and an involuntary exhale leaves his lungs. Eyes drop down, focusing on his gray pants, and he suddenly remembers where you two are and why. Clothes changed to something more regular upon your insistence (because his attire is really standing out in the crowd), he looked like a normal man, the only mystery left being his eyes and the mask he refused to take off for understandable reasons. You look pretty common too, with clothes covering all the indications of a hundreds of years old curse and looking around with a small portion of curiosity, which reminds him that you two have came in this city not for leisure.

“We are here to get the information. Remember it.”

“Sure thing, Captain, wouldn't dream of forgetting," there is a slight hint of sarcasm, but he ignores it, quite used to your ways.

"But, Captain…"

"Why do you keep calling me that? Weren't you the one telling me we should look and sound ordinarily?"

His gaze meets yours and a brow quirks in question at the wide grin and mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

"Why of course, Dain, how could I forget?"

Ah, it seems he fell into your trap. Ever since your relationship got on a somewhat definite level of what you two are to each other - more than companions in misfortune, much more than travel companions - you made it your goal to trick him into acting or saying something that felt like stuff couples would do. At first he didn't pay much attention to it, simply humoring you occasionally, but then he started to enjoy these exact affections that made you two sound and look like a normal couple, even if the notion got lost in centuries bared of light and love.

"So, Dain, I was meaning to say that for today we could take a small break, don't you think? Just consider this: people are in the middle of celebrating whatever it is, it's unlikely they'll be willing to answer you Abyss-related questions."

"And what…do you propose?" Decades ago Dainsleif wouldn't indulge such thoughts of yours, but now, when you smile softly and slide your palm into his hand, his heart flutters and he doesn't mind hearing about taking a break. It's just a small one, it won't hurt.

"Just for today we could enjoy this festival. It doesn't look like it praises any god, so it can be entertaining.”

Besides you noticed how he was staring around, eyes clouded and thoughts overshadowed by the past. It's time to make new memories and the music you hear playing somewhere ahead of you can assist you in your deed.

The night falls upon the city, yet you go on. Dainsleif doesn't know how to dance, his training never required it, and all the celebrations were spent in the role of the guard. But here he is, spinning you around and bringing back into his embrace, dancing a hundredth dance probably - he doesn't count and doesn't really need to with the stamina your bodies have. People start clapping their hands and cheering for the cute couple and for once the man doesn't feel like exposure to so many eyes is a bad thing. Not when you smile like that, not when the lantern's light plays in your hair and the gems of your eyes glinting just like now, not when your laughter sounds so joyous and sincere.

Dainsleif’s feet start hurting from tapping. Dainsleif’s heart is beating fast and breath falters a little. Dainsleif’s lips are burnt with a smile, mirroring the one plastered on your beautiful kissable face.

Moving forward and creating new things to remember, just like this sweet peck you give him, when you two finally leave the square? Sure, but only if you stay by his side to dance to the music your hearts make no matter how dark the night of your fate becomes.

Ayato

Let your soul take you where you long to be

Only then can you belong to me

Nestled on the soft cushions your figure is what has been occupying attention of the Kamisato clan for the past several minutes. With chin perched on one of his fisted hands while the other calmly lays upon the documents strewn all over the table, the man is watching you, noting how your lashes cast a shadow on the apples of your cheeks in the dim light, how your lips are sealed shut in concentration and the serene expression that you are wearing makes you look like a protagonist of Lady Yae's novels.

"Lord Kamisato, you've been staring at me for quite some time now. Are you finished with your work already?" You ask without even sparing a glance at him, eyes still shut - you know how much Ayato enjoys little challenges of your character, and not giving him attention completely is one of them. Besides, your fingers have long but memorised the body of the instrument, so you don't need to look for a note literally.

Ayato doesn't answer you right away, letting the strings sing their song and the biwa in your hands turn this evening- oh wait, when did it turn into a night? in a magnificent moment of tranquility. You opt for slower melodies today, taking just enough time to lead the streak from the beginning and to the end, as the powerful hand of a god.

"As a matter of fact, I am not yet done, my beloved," he murmurs eventually, picking up back an ink brush. "But I must thank you again for keeping me company at the times my existence is overrun by paperwork."

A quiet chuckle falls from your lips and rightfully into the melody.

"How bold of you, lord Kamisato… Can it be that you forgot that our society has a…tendency to get ahead of themselves. I am sure there are going to be rumors about a certain noble staying over for the night at the residence of the Commissioner. Don't you think it'll become a stain on your reputation?"

"Quite the contrary," he retorts, signing a paper and putting it on the stack, "The Yashiro Commission is all about festivities and traditions. Music is a big part of it and understanding it serves me just right. Not to mention, the only child of your household is the most virtuosic biwa player in this whole country. An invitation is something to be expected."

"True, but you've been inviting me three times a week for the past two months. Suspicious, don't you think so?"

You decide not to add that it's always his personal chambers with no servants in sight and night quickly overtaking the sky. You come, you keep him company playing your instrument and then…

He occasionally abandons his work to join you on the cushions.

"Have you changed your mind? About the future?" He asks quietly, lowering himself in front of you, and a melody comes to a halt.

"We've talked dozens of times about the future, Ayato. Or the case is that you get satisfaction from listening to my plans and dreams?"

You know he does. He loves that you know what you want from your future. He marks it precious that ever since the first time he asked you the question, you never strayed from the answer you gave him. And the answer itself?

"What is your future?"

"With you. And yours?"

"By your side."

Is what makes him think more about a ring stored in his pocket.

Long delicate fingers wrap around the neck of the instrument and softly pry it from your hands. The wooden corpus is placed upon the cushions and out of the way, quickly forgotten as the next moment lips crash together in a passionate dance, far less innocent than the serene atmosphere you shared just seconds ago.

He is excited for what the future holds for the two of you and can't wait to replay your game of questions and answers as the part of your wedding vows.

Soon the night will be gone and the light will accompany your union.

Childe

Floating, falling sweet intoxication

Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation

"Baby, you sure that's a good idea? Wouldn't your coworkers or subordinates be looking for you?"

"Relaaaaaax, just one night shift won't change anything. Just trust me," gloved hand squeezes yours tighter, taking you further and further away from the building of his residence. You felt like two teenagers escaping parent houses in the middle of the night to go on a date, making sure not to get caught even if the crunching snow under your feet sounds deafening in the silence.

The more you move forward, the louder the tune becomes. In confusion you glance at your boyfriend and right at the moment he turns his face to yours and grins widely. Oh Tsaritsa, he looks so adorable in street lights, curls of ginger hair poking from under his trapper hat, cheeks and nose rosy from the cold - you immediately reach a free hand to readjust his scarf, - and ocean blue eyes staring at you with mischief.

"Are you taking me to dances?" You muse, speeding up a little, when a gust of wind blows just behind you. Ajax releases your hand to wrap an arm around your waist instead, pressing you into his side.

"Yep, heard someone was throwing a small party tonight."

"Authorized?" You ask surprised and the man beside you nods.

"Yeah, some noble celebration and I got an invitation. Y'know, to 'keep it under control'."

"Or is it just an excuse?" He only laughs.

It's no wonder when you are let in without any questions and Childe drags you right to the dance floor, saying something about there being no need to greet the hosts. The lights are dimmed, so you let go of your outer clothing without any fear to be recognized - if anything no one would approach you two unless Lord Tartaglia (if actually recognized) shows he wants to talk business.

Which he clearly doesn't, not when he has you with him here. So pretty, dressed up, with the brightest smile plastered on your face, eyes shining from behind a masquerade mask you've been handed at the entrance, and it is matching his.

He is truly enamored.

"Come here, babe, I wanna dance," his palms are on your hips, twirling you around to face him. Instinctively your arms find their place around his neck and the young man can't help but bend down and steal a short kiss from your lips. To him a sweet giggle falling from your lips is louder than any music playing in the room, and he wants to hear more. But a finger is pressed against his pursed lips and you laugh.

"Later, boy, later. We'll have plenty of time, because, knowing you, you'll soon grow impatient and drag me out of here," which is true and you both know it is. So he simply shrugs his shoulders and blows hot air against your finger.

The new composition starts playing, and, before you know it, your body is swept away by his strong arms, starting the first dance of many (or maybe not) to follow. Lingering touches waltz across your skin while heated glances leap in a more passionate paso doble. Even though there are tables with alcohol around, you two don't need it to get drunk, and you think your head is spinning a little, because there is nothing in your view except those ocean eyes, except those autumn-colored locks, except those tempting smiling lips...

No one would notice if a couple of melodies later the two suddenly appeared guests just as suddenly disappeared from the room full of dancing pairs. Maybe, if one of you gets tired of kisses, or warm tight embraces, or firework-bursting sensations in your chests, you'll return.

"To think it was your idea to come here and have fun, only to not last even five dances..."

"We are having fun," a sweet kiss leaves you breathless and you gasp for air when he leans back to stare at you lovingly, "aren't we, sugar lips?"

"Mmm, I must admit even a couple of dances was refreshing. I am having fun..." it's your time to steal his breath and the young man quietly moans, eyes half-lidded and mask half-ridden up his face, "...indeed. Now let's move somewhere else until some poor servant catches us and falls victim to your rage and desire to duel."

Yeah, no way you are coming back, there is another kind of dances your night has a reservation for.

Pantalone

Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in

To the power of the music that I write

The power of the music of the night

Lately you started disliking nights. The time that is meant to spend resting and preferably in the arms of your lover is wasted while waiting for the man to return home, leaving you completely alone. Yes, you understand he has a job to fulfill, a very important one, but neglecting you for the fourth night in a row? It starts to piss you off.

You pass your fur coat to one of the agents in the hall and the employee bows his head to you, murmuring something along the lines “Master Pantalone is in his office”. Surely you would know the only place in the Northland bank your husband would be at in such an ungodly hour of the night.

Heels of your expensive shoes click against the tiled floor, signaling other agents of your arrival. You barely wave your hand or nod at them as a sign of acknowledgment and permission to get back to their duties, too busy to get into the elevator that’ll bring you to one of the top floors.

You don’t even knock when the massive, adorned with pure gold decorations door appears in front of you. A key emerges from your pocket and quickly disappears in a keyhole. A couple of twists, a victorious click and the handle is in your hand, while the key is back within the confines of your clothes.

The grandiose room, not many had an honor to be in, meets you with its usual cacophony of sounds: the rustle of papers, the click of an abacus, the creak of a quill and the clink of coins. A distinctive feature of your dear husband - there is no clock on the wall or the working desk. The ticking drives Regrator insane, provokes headaches and simply makes him lose his concentration.

Which is not ruined now, as he keeps his eyes trained on the things all over his desk, barely moving a muscle upon your entrance. Yeah, sure he knows there is only one person in the whole Teyvat that has a spare key to his office at the bank, but some kind of acknowledgement would've been nice.

You don't slam the door shut, even though you really want to, but instead slowly close it, registering the quiet click, and then just as slowly walk to the spacious mahogany desk within an equally spacious room.

"For how long Lord Pantalone is planning to ignore me?" You are standing right in front of the annoying piece of furniture (the obstacle you'd really like to throw away at the moment), crossing your arms, and burning holes in his head. The banker hums something, sliding beads back and forth on the big counting instrument that takes a quarter of the desk surface. The thing annoys you even more.

You make sure he writes down numbers he needs and then snatch the abacus from under his hand, hopping onto the now free space. The tips of his fingers poke your hip and then and only then does Pantalone lift his gaze at you.

"Oh, now I finally have your attention?" Humming you test the weight of the wooden piece in your hand, making the beads rattle and click. Your husband sighs, reaching up to get the tool back, but you only draw your arm further, creating even more disturbing sounds.

“And what my darling is doing?” while a never-disappearing smile is plastered on his handsome face, you can clearly see the brow that starts twitching.

“Hmmmm… I dunno,” you twist you wrist a couple of times more, making the beads slide and hit each other, all the while watching the way his fingers are squeezing the poor quill. “Maybe I am giving you a headache that you can’t work any longer, so I can finally bring you home.”

"Vixen."

"You don't really mean it," yeah, when he means it, the words can get pretty sharp. Not towards you though, he'd never let himself insult you no matter how much you can intentionally annoy him. "Besides," you grab a coin from a stack he hasn't counted yet and let it drop on the floor, hitting it multiple times, all the while accompanying the ringing sounds with the ones of the abacus, "you know I am right and you need to go home and rest. Or else…" before he can react you grab a fistful of mora and throw it in the air, knowing a horrendous melody they are gonna play, "I will ruin you work even more for you. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Your methods…" he flinches while you are not phased at all by the cacophony the gold creates in the union with marble, "...very atrocious."

"You are the one to say, Lord Harbinger," grinning, you lean forward, just mere inches from his face, from his parted lips.

"So… would you like to hear more of my improvised concert, or you'd rather join me on our way back home?"

You alone can make my song take flight

Help me make the music of the night

2K notes · View notes

codywanfirstkissbingo · 8 months

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Codywan First Kiss Bingo

Can't get enough of Cody and Obi-Wan's first kiss in any universe and situation? Well then we'd love to have you play our bingo!

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Fill out this form and we'll email you your shiny bingo card. Every card is a shuffled assortment of prompts that will look something like this:

Below are all the rules you should know about before you join.

General Rules

We're sure you are familiar with the rules of bingo, but just to be certain everyone is on the same page, to get a bingo you must fill five prompts in a row. That row can be vertical, horizontal, or diagonal. Fill all the prompts on your card and that's a blackout!

Get as creative with your kisses as you want but they MUST BE A FIRST KISS between Obi-Wan and Cody in some capacity.

Prompt fills should be new works, meaning that they should not be part of an ongoing work-in-progress. Sequels and prequels to already-finished works are welcome!

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Combining Prompts

This is a low stakes event and we just want people to have fun! If you want to combine prompts that's totally fine, but we ask that you give each fill its own scene within the larger work. This means there should be a separate kiss for each prompt, even if the 'scene' is a series of types of kisses all in a row.

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Behind the Scenes

This bingo is modded by tumblr users @dontbelasagnax @lttrsfrmlnrrgby and @notthestarwar. Since we're big fans of the previous codywan bingos, we felt the drive to bring the fun back for anyone else that has missed the event as much as us!

Our adorable profile picture was drawn by @anaclastic-azurite!

You can actually find the public inception of this bingo event right here!

If you have any further questions after reading our rules, our askbox is open!

@swfandomevents

(NB: edited Oct. 9 to add "vertical.")

(NB: edited Nov. 10 to add "This means there should be a separate kiss for each prompt, even if the 'scene' is a series of types of kisses all in a row.")

#codywan #cwfkb2023 #mod post #cwfkb #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi

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dentalclinic023 · 9 months

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White Dental Fillings Cost in Gurgaon @9289288848

Repair decayed or damaged tooth white dental fillings. Call us @9289288848 to know about procedure, treatment, cost of white fillings for teeth in Gurgaon. Give your teeth the best care and treatment

#white fillings #white tooth filling #white cavity filling #white composite fillings front teeth #white filling cavity #white dental fillings #white fillings for teeth

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aneledenovodental · 1 year

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Dental Treatment In Margate

Anele De Novo Dental Practice is Dentist in Margate offer a wide range of dental services to help patients maintain good oral health. These services include regular cleanings and check-ups, fillings and extractions, root canals, crowns and bridges, denture treatment and cosmetic procedures such as teeth whitening and veneers.

#cosmetic dentist Margate #composite bonding Margate #teeth whitening Margate #white fillings Margate #dentures Margate

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indouloureux · 2 years

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liquid smooth

eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie's nightmares corrode his nights for the past two weeks. with guilt overwhelming his healing wounds, you let your boyfriend talk to you as a cathartic release.

word count: 2,317

warnings: MAJOR STRANGER THINGS VOLUME TWO SPOILERS. mentions of violence, maybe ptsd, blood and depictions of gore. angst, quick and shitty writing like the duffer brothers, maybe fluff at the end.

a/n: a fix it fic. the one where IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. anyway, hope you all enjoy. mcu!peter coming next (this is me trying)

MASTERLIST

(FOLLOW @bloodstheink TO GET NOTIFIED WHEN I POST)

The space beside you is oddly cold.

You expect it to be warm, full of flesh and comforting arms wrapped around you, his blood flowing through his tatted arms. But it’s not – instead your hand caresses the crumpled part of the blanket you share.

Cold sheets render you awake. You sit up, rubbing the sleep of your eyes and blindly reach for the lamp. Immediately does the warm glow of the bulb illuminate Eddie’s room in a dim glisten, adding an orange dusk to his scattered black and white posters of metal bands you only know half of.

With feet covered by borrowed socks, you leave his bed, wrapping your arms around yourself. And as the sleep withers away into a void, you realize that Eddie is not here – not beside you. Not in the room, and not in the bathroom where you just checked.

“Eddie?” you call, quietly, amidst the silent trailer, afraid of waking up the neighbors and whoever it is that still hunt him down. You notice a lone mug sitting on the side of his table, partly filled with cold coffee. You take it into your hand and gently place it in the sink before you emerge to the small living room.

You see disarranged pillows, no longer in the place where you placed them last night before going to bed. There’s a new cigarette in the ashtray, and with the moonlight slipping through the thin blinds, you see faint smoke emerging. “Eddie?” you call again.

The lack of response presses play to a nervous song that thumps on your heart. Its lyrics circle around your filled head – where could he be? What happened to him? Did he just suddenly leave without telling me? The song an anthem to your worries that have risen these past weeks. Mostly for him, anyway.

That’s when you hear soft humming of a tune outside the trailer from the back. You whip your head to the slippers beside the door and slip it on, ever so softly opening the door and exit the small house and tramp your way behind to see him.

Eddie’s sitting on an old crate of beer, unamplified electric guitar lays on his lap, caressed by his bandaged fingers. Although it’s been a two weeks, you miss seeing the rings on his hand. You cross your arms, and walk towards your awakened boyfriend.

When he sees your socks he stops, looking up at you with a small smile. “Hey, babe,” he murmurs. His voice is accompanied by the air that crumples the fallen leaves of the forest behind, followed by a soft grunt coming from you when you sit on the ground in front of him. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” you shake your head, resting your chin on his thigh that’s covered by his pajamas, but beneath it is another wrap of gauze. “I just woke up by accident.”

“Did I worry you?”

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat from inside, or if he felt the decelerating pulse on your wrist when he grabs a hold of it to thumb on your skin. “No,” you say again. “I – I didn’t mean to worry. I know you hate it when I worry.”

“It’s alright,” the croak in his voice is tired, yet here he is, early in the morning with the sign of missing sleep underneath his eyes. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you kiss his left knuckle, the one exposed and covered with healing cuts. “It…woke you up again, didn’t it? The nightmare?”

Eddie’s eyes are glossed, the stained glass of his windows form a composition of trauma. He nods, looking away from you. Out of shame, embarrassment, you don’t know.

“Is it the same one?”

He sighs, resting the guitar flat on his lap. “Yeah,” he swallows, accommodated by a laugh that’s so Eddie it hurts, because you know he laughs every time to mask the pain. “Always been. Same one every fucking night, yet I can’t get it out of my head.”

“You said it stopped,” your words are anything but a scold, but you can’t hide the upset that comes with. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he sniffs, tears on the edge of his eyes that he blinks away. Eddie looks at your joint hands – wounded mingled with the unwounded. “I don’t…want to be a burden to you.”

“Baby, I’m always going to worry,” you sit up, on your knees, and cup his face in your hands. His bangs almost poke his eyes now, and you let your thumbs brush it in the middle to see his wide eyes – pretty, but damaged. “And you’re not a burden.”

“I keep you up late,” Eddie whispers. “I know you wait for me to fall asleep. And I pretend that I do so you’d fall asleep. You shouldn’t be losing sleep because of me.”

You don’t know what punches you: guilt? Sadness? “It’s not because of you, Eds. It’s because of me,” you hope your words reassure me. “It’s my choice.”

He stays silent for a bit, like he’s thinking of his next words to get away with this conversation. Eddie kisses your palm, smiles when you smile as your thumb comes across the crinkles of his eyes. “Yeah,” Eddie licks his lips. “Let’s go back to bed. I’m coming with.”

Then he kisses you, because he knows you’d say something to protest against his offer. Eddie’s lips are chapped, though it still reminds you of him. His bandaged hand comes up to place itself behind your head to bring you deeper.

But you push away because you know what he’s doing, and you don’t want it to happen. “Eddie,” you murmur against his twitching lips. “Eds, you promised we’d talk about it if it keeps on happening.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he kisses you. Again, not out of want but as a beg for you to forget. “And we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Eddie, no,” you push him away gently, removing his hand from the back of your head. “I don’t care what time it is. I – I don’t care if I’m losing sleep because you’re losing it too. I told you I’d be here no matter what, and we’re going to talk about it right now.”

His sigh is defeated. “Okay. I’m sorry,” Eddie rubs his forehead with yours.

“Now tell me what happened. Please?”

Eddie has been deferring the elucidation behind his wounds. You weren’t with him the day the night they went to attack – your role had been assigned to watch Max, Lucas, and Erica since they needed the guidance from someone older, given that the rest went to the upside down. And since then, everything went to shit;

You remember seeing Dustin and Steve carry Eddie’s unconscious body right before the “earthquake” happened. He looked like he’d just survived a bloody carnage, body doused in blood of his own, wounds open and throbbing, pulse weakening each second he lacked aid. No one but Dustin knew what happened, albeit you’ve never gotten the chance to ask him due to his ceaseless cries of fear.

He woke up the next day, and nights right after involved startling cries and quiet whimpers of help in his sleep, with you beside him to hush him back to dreamless sleep. You know he’s felt nothing but guilt when he sees your lethargic eyes in the middle of the night, stunned by his wet screams.

“I…I cut the rope back to the trailer,” he begins. “And…I left Dustin and I ran away to distract them. The bats. And…All I did was ran. That was my plan anyway, to run away and take them as far as I could. And then this stupid voice in my head – my voice – told me to just stop running and…face them. Because all my life I’d been running, because I’m nothing but a coward. I’m – I’m no hero. And I’ve got nothing else to do but run until I realized that my friends are out there who need my help.

“So I faced them. And, and I yelled at them and fought back. And then one of them caught me and I-” Eddie lets out a shuddered whimper, fingers rubbing his eyes. “They tore into my flesh and it hurt. And I let them, because I hoped it would help. It worked, though, and I thought I was going to die until Dustin came and tried hauling me back. Then Harrington saw me and just, since then I’ve felt so-… stupid trying to die for a town that hates me.”

He’s saying all this with tears in his eyes. What once was wide and full of undaunted mischief replaced by the horrors of the world that scarred his life like a knife to a flesh. “I feel so fucking stupid for trying to be a hero when I’m not.”

“You are,” you reposition yourself in front of him. “Eddie, you saved people who hate the living shit out of you. You – you saved Dustin, you saved us. You saved me,” somehow, the laugh that leaves you makes your boyfriend smile. “I’m going to agree and say what you did was unbelievably stupid, but your stupidity saved us all.”

You kiss him, again, more as an act of reverence. “You’ve always been a hero. And you’re so, so brave, Eddie. I mean, facing those bats? I don’t think your name should be Eddie the Banished anymore.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles at you, tears staining his lips. “What should it be, then?”

“Eddie the Slayer,” you propose. “But instead of like, Dragon Slayer, it’d be Demobat Slayer. I bet you looked so fucking heroic standing up to those monsters.”

“I didn’t kill any of them, baby. They almost killed me.”

“Nobody’s gonna know,” you tease.

“They’re gonna know,”

“No, they’re not. Unless those dipshits start talking about the Upside Down without sounding like crazies, nobody’s gonna know.”

Eddie wipes his tears with the back of his hand, sniffing loudly. “Yeah, but if I would have done something better, Max would be okay right now.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s none of ours, really,” Eddie places the guitar on the ground and comes to sit on the ground with you, but takes your hips into his hands and sits you on his lap with his chin on your shoulder. “It’s that stupid Vecna’s fault. Fucking menace.”

He laughs. You run a hand beneath his shirt, fingertips feeling his adagio healing wounds. “Fucking menace, indeed. Tore my fucking trailer down. But here I am, still living in a trailer that’s two minutes away from mine.”

“Yeah, but we share this one now, though,” you kiss his forehead, relaxed at the loss of grime and dried blood. “You’re a hero, Eddie Munson. Hawkins may not see it, but I do. And so does Dustin.”

“Dustin,” he chuckles. “Bravest little shit I’ve ever met. Second to you, I mean,” Eddie kisses your neck. “And honestly, I don’t even care if people still see me as a freak or whatever. As long as you still see me as who I am, that’s all that matters.”

“Well, you still have to care. You’re still wanted, y’know,” you massage his scalp. “We’ve got a trial next week.”

“Fair point,” Eddie taps his fingers on your thigh, cheek pressing on your bicep. “How’re the little sheep doing?” he looks up at you. “Sinclair? Especially what happened with Max.”

“His parents made me watch him the other day when you were with Dustin,” you rest your head on his, looking on the dark ground. “He’s been reading books to her. And I took Erica back to their home and hung out because God knows how she feels after getting attacked by one of Carver’s acolytes.”

“Wait what?”

“I didn’t tell you?” he shakes his head, worry creased on his forehead. “They found us. Lucas got beat up pretty bad but Jason lost. Max – I was there. I watched it happen while I was trying to fix her player but, somehow like a fucking miracle she survived. Barely,”

“But he shot you,” his cold palm rests on the spot just beneath your sleep shorts – a gauze covers the hole from the bullet Jason put through your thigh. Eddie traces the tapes that secure the bandaid. “I didn’t even get the chance to ask you what happened-”

“Hey,” you take his face into your hands. Eddie looks like he’s about to cry, unneeded guilt overwhelming his bruised chest. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you, okay? And – and I want you to know that I don’t care if you didn’t ask me because-…I just want you to be okay.”

“But we’re going to talk about it, right?” he gathers your hair into one shoulder. Eddie’s liberating eyes know any lie you let out would be injudicious, and so you know you won’t be able to sugarcoat anything that happened to you when he was away, therefore you worry you won’t be able to ease his remorse when you tell him what happens.

You decide that the best you can ameliorate him is levity. “Yeah. I’ll tell you.”

Eddie smiles. He leans in to kiss you – a saudade satisfied in a galore of communicated emotions from a disaster. His warm lips inebriate you, pushes your worries away into the gate that surrounds Hawkins. Vecna’s got your souls corroded, but with shared trauma prosed into a promise of healing together, you don’t mind a damaged soul that’s tethered to his.

“You’re a hero, Eddie Munson,” you repeat, finger running along his healing jawline. “And if everyone doesn’t see that, remember that I do.”

“I’m gonna keep you forever,” Eddie offers you a cathartic smile; a smile so pretty and so Eddie.

“Just don’t do anything stupid again.”

banner by @/lauras-collection

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the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep · 8 months

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“Papa and Tara” Oil Paint on Canvas, 1499 DR

Gif credit to @gale-gaze

“Papa!” the girl cried out excitedly as she burst into Gale’s library. His daughter was technically supposed to knock before entering her father’s library, but Gale adored his daughter’s visits. Even when she did interrupt his work, he was more excited about her than any composition he could make with the Weave. Tara was asleep next to him as he read by the fire. The tressym awoke with a soft trill, her wings twitching.

Karlach was born the year after he and Tav were married. From the moment that Tav told him that she was pregnant, Gale was enamored with his future child. He fussed endlessly over Tav throughout the pregnancy, hyper-attuned to any slight grimace of discomfort, craving, or restlessness from his wife. He paused all of his arcane research and teaching students to attend to her, despite Tav’s protests that he didn’t need to worry himself so much. “My love, there is nothing more important in this world or any other than you and our child,” he would say, placing a hand on Tav’s belly. “The Weave will always exist and I will shall always be able to compose within it, but this is worth more than kingdoms.”

Gale, true to his nature, read any book he could get his hands on related to child-rearing. Since having a child with Mystra was out of the question, he never imagined being a father.

Gale smiled proudly upon seeing Karlach, marking his place in the book before closing it. He always gave his daughter his fullest attention. Karlach skipped over to where her father sat on the sofa. Gale’s library was her favorite place in the house. She loved the way it smelled like old books and dust, just like her beloved father. More than that, it was where she could most frequently find Tara, who was her best friend next to Gale.

“Ah, Karlach!” he exclaimed. “My dearest daughter. How were your lessons today? I am certain that you are excelling, as always.”

“Today was so much fun!” she said, her voice still brimming with excitement. “I made you something!”

“My goodness! Is it another addition to the gallery?” Gale asked. His library was filled with Karlach’s creative works, all of which he cherished. When his daughter began bringing her artwork home from her classes, he cleared any space he could in his library to display Karlach’s work. Each painting she made was framed with a tiny orb of light suspended overhead so that Gale could fully appreciate each work of art in full detail. Beneath each of them, there was a tiny plaque with the name, date, and medium: “Papa Doing Magic,” Watercolor on Baldurian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios; “Mama and Papa”, Oil pastel on Waterdhavian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios. While Karlach dabbled in many mediums, painting was her favorite.

“I think you and Tara will really, really, *really* like this one,” Karlach giggled. Her face was smudged with paint, her nose spotted with deep cerulean. Although his opinion was biased, never before had Gale seen a child as beautiful as his daughter. She was his spitting image; sparkling brown eyes, untamed chestnut curls and his smile. There was no denying that she was a Dekarios.

Karlach produced a small canvas from behind her back and handed it to her father. “It’s you and Tara!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride.

The painting portrayed Gale and Tara sitting on the flocked velvet sofa of his library. Gale was portrayed with an oblong body, stick arms, and a beard. Tara’s likeness resembled a brown and orange egg with disproportionately large white wings. In the background, there were several asymmetrically drawn bookshelves adorned with books of many different colors.

Gale took the painting from Karlach’s hands, looking upon it with amazement. “Karlach, my darling girl, this is your best work yet. Such skill you have!”

Karlach bounced on her heels, grinning from ear to ear. “Really?!”

Gale nodded, admiring the painting as if it was the finest piece of artwork he’d ever seen. To him, his daughter’s work was always beautiful and he grew prouder of her by the day. “Tara, hasn’t she captured your likeness beautifully?”

“Yes, Mr. Dekarios! Little Miss Karlach is truly a natural! So very talented!” Tara trilled. Objectively, Karlach’s art was like any other child’s, but Tara loved seeing how happy Gale was when Karlach brought him her paintings.

He patted the space next to him on the sofa. “You must tell me all about your creative process.”

Karlach sat beside her father, her legs dangling above the floor. Describing her creative processes was her favorite part of showing her father her art.

“It’s your and Tara’s favorite place in the whole wide world so it’s my favorite place too!”

Gale ruffled Karlach’s curls. “Right you are, sweet girl. The level of detail is remarkable. As always, you never fail to amaze me.”

Gale looked down at his daughter, the child he never thought he would have. Even though she looked like him, she had her mother’s spirit and the tenacity of her namesake — Karlach Cliffgate.

“Now, where shall we hang this one?” Gale asked Karlach.

“Hmmm…” Karlach hummed, pursing her lips together as if attempting to solve a difficult problem. “I think it should go… over there!”

She was pointing to a vacant space over her father’s piano, the last empty wall space in the library. Admittedly, Gale had hoped to use the space to hang a rare tapestry that Elminster had gifted him for his 50th birthday, but Gale couldn’t say no to Karlach. Tav worried about Gale spoiling her, but Karlach’s puppy dog eyes never failed to sway him.

“You have such an eye for design. That spot is absolutely perfect. Shall we hang it tomorrow?”

Karlach nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Can I help, Papa?”

“Of course you can, my love,” he answered, kissing the top of her head. In the meantime, he would need to make a new plaque for the painting.

“Thank you, Papa!” she exclaimed, giving her father a tight hug. “I love you!”

Sometimes, Gale found himself misty-eyed whenever his wife or daughter told him that they loved him. They both loved him so purely, not for his capabilities to compose the Weave, but for the husband and father he was. And he loved them, more than he could ever have imagined. Nothing in this plane of existence nor any other could compare.

Gale embraced his daughter. “I love you too, my sweet girl.”

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 headcanons #dad!gale

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odyssean-flower · 3 months

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 11 - The Honeymoon (Part 3)

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette have a fun time in Merusea Village Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: This chapter is 13k words long so yeah, strap in Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging out in Merusea Village

Previous | Next

“Madame, are you feeling alright? Please let me know if we need to stop the boat somewhere for a short rest.”

“I assure you, I’m fine. I stopped feeling nauseous a long time ago. The boat has been moving very smoothly so far.”

Despite your repeated assurances, Neuvillette still looked slightly doubtful. He was probably going to ask this question again later.

After lunch, Neuvillette took you to a small dock to the south of the willow tree, where there was a small, inconspicuous boat waiting to take you two to Elynas, where Merusea Village was located. The vishap had followed you and saw you off.

Queasiness took hold of you once you got onto this boat. It was probably because you just had lunch. Luckily, the boat wasn’t going too fast. You suspected that it was on purpose.

You glanced up at Neuvillette. Like the rowboat at the tree, this boat was smoothly cutting through the water of its own accord. You didn’t hear a motor, nor was there anyone at the wheel.

Leaning back against the cushions of the seat that Neuvillette made you sit on after you first mentioned your dizziness, you closed your eyes. The warm sunlight felt like a comforting blanket despite being filtered through clouds, and the refreshing sea breeze stroked the hair at your nape like gentle fingers. The boat’s steady rocking was soothing, almost hypnotic. Ah, this is heaven. I’ve been missing out.

The cry of a seabird near your ear caused you to open your eyes. You saw Neuvillette standing at the bow. His long snow-white hair was fluttering in the wind, along with his coat tails. He had his cup in his hand, no doubt filled with water. You couldn’t see his expression from here, but judging from the relaxed set of his shoulders, he was also enjoying himself.

In another life, Neuvillette would make a fine ship captain, you idly thought as you observed his stately, erect figure. He certainly had the bearing of one. Or what you imagined a captain would be like from the various novels and books you read.

Your fingers itched to paint him. You were already thinking about the composition and colors. This was strange. Usually, you didn’t really enjoy painting people. You didn’t even like doing self-portraits. Landscapes and buildings were more to your taste.

As though sensing your gaze, Neuvillette turned around and looked at you. “We will be reaching Elynas in about an hour or so. Please, relax until then, Madame. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I am. Please stop asking,” you said firmly and resolutely fixed your gaze ahead. The sharp peaks of Elynas were still just a faint dot in the distance. You could see the shadows of ships gliding on the water. What would their passengers think if they saw the Chief Justice standing in this small, inconspicuous boat?

You turned your head back in the direction of Erinnyes. All you could see now was the shoreline and verdant trees. It was as though that giant willow tree and vishap never existed in the first place. Like it was all a dream.

The seat next to you sank down with Neuvillette’s weight. “Did you have fun at Erinnyes?”

“Oh, I did!” you turned to him with a broad smile. Perhaps it was just your imagination, but you thought his pupils dilated slightly. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to. It’s so… so mystical. I wish we could have stayed longer.”

Neuvillette let out a little chuckle. He put his hand to his mouth, as though to hide his expression. “I’m very glad to hear that. I hope the vishap didn’t spoil your mood.”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “I was a little scared at first, sure, but she was actually very gentle. I did assume there would be more vishaps around, though.”

“Most of them live underwater to hide from the sunlight and humans. I considered summoning them aboveground to introduce you to them, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

The thought of those large vishaps dwelling beneath the ground was somewhat disconcerting but thrilling at the same time. Erinnyes was supposed to have a complicated network of underground caverns. You supposed they lived there.

Another thought occurred to you just then. “You can speak their language,” you turned to him. “Are you related to them in some way? Like…their overseer or something?”

“Overseer…? Interesting choice of words,” Neuvillette stroked his chin, thinking your question over. “I would not call myself that, but I do watch over them, and they depend on me.”

“I see,” you said. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer your question about whether or not he was related to them. You stared at his slitted eyes again. They did resemble vishaps’ eyes quite a lot. Could Neuvillette turn into a vishap? You couldn’t quite imagine it. If he could transform into something, you’d imagine that it would be something more majestic and graceful, like…

Neuvillette cleared his throat. That was when you realized that you had been staring into his eyes for far too long. Hastily, you looked away, your gaze landing on the sparkling water.

“I…I didn’t know that the Chief Justice’s duties also extend to looking after the wild creatures of the land,” you said. You hoped that you didn’t sound too flustered. “I don’t know how you manage it.”

“Well, those wild creatures, as you called them, are also citizens of Fontaine, so they are under my purview in that sense. And also, the role of Chief Justice isn’t the only role I play.”

You didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of elaborating. For a while, the two of you watched the neighboring shoreline move past you.

Eventually, the back of the Opera Epiclese came into view. And in the distance, the Court of Fontaine loomed over the waters. Looking at it from here, you once again appreciated just how big it was. When you first moved there, it had taken you weeks to find your way around without getting lost.

“What a great view of the city,” you said. “I’d love to take some pictures of it.”

“Why don’t you, then?”

“I’m afraid I’ll run out of film since I took so many pictures back at Erinnyes, so I want to save it for Merusea Village.”

“There’s no need to worry about that. I’ve brought several rolls of film with me,” Neuvillette patted his pocket.

“Oh, really! Don’t mind if I do, then.”

You went to the cabin to get the Kamera, then proceeded to take pictures of the city from several angles. It certainly looked imposing, with its tall ramparts and the lofty Mont Esus looming in the background, but it was simply too gaudy and contemporary for your liking. Maybe it’ll look better in a few hundred years, when it’s all ruins. You found yourself focusing on the half-sunken beams and pillars poking out from beneath the water instead. Are those from the last flood period? I wonder what used to be there?

You closed your eyes as you tried to recall what you read in The Divers’ Guide to Underwater Ruins. It had belonged to your old art teacher, a former adventurer, and you used to beg her to lend it to you after every lesson. I think that’s where the old Institute of Natural Philosophy used to be. How sad it is to think that so much research is forever lost.

Although, you also felt a bubbling excitement in the pit of your stomach, as you always did whenever you thought about old, crumbling, forgotten ruins.

“Madame, are you feeling ill?” Neuvillette’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. You opened your eyes and was met with lilac orbs filled with concern. You stepped back a little in surprise, not expecting his face to be so close to yours. You could smell the crisp scent of his cologne, although you weren’t expert enough to identify the ingredients. It was different from the one he wore at your wedding. It smells nice, though. Maybe I should start wearing perfume too.

“I apologize for startling you,” Neuvillette said as he saw the look of alarm on your face. “You closed your eyes and had an odd expression on your face, so I was worried.”

“Oh, it was nothing. I was simply lost in thought,” you waved your hands dismissively as you felt your heartbeat settle down to a normal rate. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable with being in close quarters with a man or anything. Neuvillette was still your husband, after all, so you should probably get used to it. It was simply that you were still coming to grips with the fact that you were on this little boat in the middle of the sea with the Chief Justice (who really did look quite resplendent. You should ask to take a picture of him. As a souvenir of this day, of course), and you couldn’t forget how different and warm and comforting it felt to be in his arms. That was all.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked. He stepped a little bit closer, like he was actually curious.

About old, crumbling, unexplored ruins and how the Court of Fontaine would look much better as a pile of rocks, you thought, but didn’t say it aloud. It was hardly a conversation topic for a date. And you were pretty sure you would be taken to the Fortress of Meropide for that second part.

“I was just spacing out. It’s really nothing,” you said dismissively.

Neuvillette nodded slowly and turned away. A shadow passed over him. It was cast by the aquabus railing, marking the halfway point of this journey.

By the time the boat emerged from the other side, gray clouds were gathering in the sky. Neuvillette was still turned away from you. You bit your lip, regretting your tone. You hadn’t meant for it to come off so bluntly. Your mother often criticized you for not speaking softly and gently enough for a lady. You wished you had Neuvillette’s quiet, soothing voice. It never failed to calm you.

Instead of researching honeymoon spots, I should have read more books on how to behave on a date, you inwardly lamented. You were not a charming, talkative person by nature. It took work on your part to pretend to be one. Probably because of this, your romantic history was non-existent.

If only you were your sister…she seemed to have a way of lighting up any situation.

It was funny. Mutually agreeing to be just friends was supposed to be make everything easier. Friendship was supposed to be easy and natural. There was no pretense between friends. Though you didn’t exactly have a large social circle back home, you did have a few close friends. But Neuvillette was nothing like your school friends or your old art teacher, by virtue of his position and status. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that you two were in a marriage of convenience.

If only Lady Furina hadn’t gotten involved, we could have lived together quietly and peacefully as just friends until the year’s end. You felt a stab of resentment towards the Archon. Because of her, Neuvillette—and you, by extension—was forced into this awkward situation. She must have really riled him up. Why can’t she just be happy that Neuvillette is getting a “taste of matrimonial happiness” or whatever and leave it at that? …Then again, we haven’t exactly acted like a proper married couple until now. And even now...

“Madame, here you are,” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts. He was holding a cup of water out to you. “Drinking water can ease seasickness.”

You haven’t been feeling sick for some time now. What sort of look did I have on my face? You wondered, but accepted the cup anyways. The water was crisp and refreshing. It cleared your mind.

There’s really no use in overthinking this, you concluded. The best thing I can do for Neuvillette is to go along with whatever he has planned for us and help keep the mood light and pleasant. I have no idea if Lady Furina is watching us or not, but one can never be sure.

You considered for a moment what you could do, then stood up with the Kamera.

Neuvillette’s eyes were fixed on the sea ahead. You remembered a story that Muirne, a Melusine who worked at the Palais Mermonia, told you about Neuvillette staring out at sea and causing a crowd of people to wonder if there was something going on out there. Looking at him now, you could understand how that happened. There was a magnetic intensity in his gaze that drew you to him. You had never seen that expression for yourself, though. Perhaps it was reserved for the sea.

There were many things you didn’t know about him. He was fathomless like the ocean itself. What you saw now was only the surface. You couldn’t hope to catch even a glimpse of his depths. The thought gave you a strange restlessness.

Just stop thinking, you told yourself firmly. Easy, casual. Remember that!

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” you addressed him. “May I take a few pictures of you?”

To your surprise, he readily agreed. You were under the impression that he didn’t like being photographed, considering the scarcity of his photos in the papers and his avoidance of being in public.

“Should I pose or, ah, smile?” he asked, fiddling with his fingers. Maybe he was like you, uncomfortable with being photographed.

“No. All you have to do is to stand and look as you usually do,” you said, even as you find yourself curious about what sorts of poses Neuvillette would make. “Just stand against the railing and look out at sea. That would be perfect.”

As you aimed the lens at Neuvillette and looked at him through the viewfinder, it struck you then that from an outsider’s point of view, you looked like a real couple, on a real date.

Embarrassingly, the thought made your heart flutter.

Except it wasn’t, really. It was a sham, all for show. It was like a play, almost, performed for an invisible audience. A farce for no one except the two of you (and the Hydro Archon).

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re happy right now, a voice whispered in your mind. How long had it been since your heart felt so light?

You weren’t sure if that made you more pathetic or not.

You took a deep breath, clearing your mind of these errant thoughts, and concentrated on taking pictures of Neuvillette. He really is very photogenic, you thought. Though he does a look a bit stiff. You put on what you thought was an encouraging smile to help him relax, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Whoops?

After you were done, Neuvillette said, “I do hope the pictures will turn out well.”

“I’m sure they will,” you said, putting the Kamera back down and flopping back down onto the bench. “There is no finer pairing than a handsome man and beautiful scenery.”

Neuvillette made a choked noise. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. “Pardon me?”

“‘There’s no finer pairing than a handsome man and beautiful scenery’?” you repeated your words, confused. Neuvillette still looked a bit stunned. You began to wonder if you had said something wrong. You meant it as an innocuous comment, but it could be taken the wrong way in the context of your relationship. Perhaps Neuvillette thought you meant something more by it. You should rectify things before a misunderstanding occurred.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Neuvillette beat you to the punch.

“You…consider me handsome?”

Now it was your turn to stare at him. “Of course I do?”

“I-I see,” Neuvillette said in a low voice. He seemed awfully caught off guard by your words. That was strange. Surely he was used to receiving compliments on his looks? Whenever he made a rare public appearance, the papers always made sure to describe his looks in loving detail, and it was well known that he had a legion of fangirls, some of whom had even been sent to the Fortress of Meropide for their extreme behavior.

“I mean, I consider you handsome in the same way that most Fontainians do, in an aesthetic sort of way. I don’t mean anything untoward, sir. Did you find what I said offensive?”

“No,” Neuvillette said, then cleared his throat. He was looking at anywhere but you. You could have sworn that the tips of his ears turned red. He almost seemed embarrassed. “No, I was simply…simply surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised? Why?”

“Because you…ah, never acted in a way that suggested that you did…” Neuvillette struggled to find the words to finish his sentence. Poor man, you were embarrassing him to death. “Admire my looks, so I assumed that you…did not think of me in that way.”

You stared at him with your mouth agape, only to hastily close your mouth when you saw how flustered you were making him. So Neuvillette was aware of the effect that his looks had on people. “Wait, what about that time when I kept staring at you? That counts, right?”

“No, it was different. It felt more as though you were trying to analyze me,” he said. He must be so used to the amorous stares of his admirers that he was able to differentiate between the different types of gazes. His brow wrinkled, as though recalling unpleasant memories. Most likely related to the more extreme side of his fans. Poor man , you thought again.

“I see,” you nodded. “I am sorry if I caused any offence by never saying anything.”

“It isn’t something I care a whit about,” Neuvillette said quickly. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he was trying to convince himself. “I find the fixation on appearances quite baffling and needless, honestly.”

“Really?” you gave him a once-over. He wasn’t wearing his usual judge’s garb, but he was still dressed much too formally for a casual outing like this. The afternoon sun gilded the edges of his white hair, which looked soft and silky to the touch. His hair care regimen must be intensive .

“Yes, really,” he nodded. “I only put up with such standards because of the demands of my position.”

Easy for someone as stunning as him to say, you thought, but felt no bitterness. Maybe it was because he sounded truly sincere.

Perhaps it was that sincerity that spurred you on to say what you said next.

“Even so, I think there’s nothing wrong with complimenting someone on their looks, especially when they look as radiant as you,” you struggled to find the right words. You were never much of a writer. “Looking at you…reminds me of the mountains near my home. I liked seeing them every day. They never fail to take my breath away.”

A thought popped into your head. Wait, a comparison to the sea would have been more apt here. But truth be told, you didn’t have any strong connection to the sea. Mountains, on the other hand, have been the constant backdrop for your childhood, so that was why they were the first thing that popped into your mind.

A thrill of elation shot through your heart. Back in your old ball-attending days, your family would advise you to compliment potential partners on their appearance and dress. You tried, but somehow it always seemed to not land correctly. Perhaps it was your tone or the way you spoke. With Neuvillette, you had put all your sincerity and goodwill into your words, and it seemed to have worked.

Neuvillette had always been nothing but courteous and gentlemanly towards you. It was time that you repaid the favor.

The loud cry of a sea bird at the front of the boat drew your attention, and you spun around, your back facing him. Elynas was just up ahead.

As you admired the white ridges of the mountains in your jubilation, you were completely ignorant of your husband’s intense, heated gaze aimed at the back of your head and the rapidly clearing clouds.

“Welcome to Merusea Village, Monsieur and Madame Neuvillette!”

A high-pitched chorus greeted you at the entrance of the underwater village.

You surveyed the crowd of Melusines before you, still reeling from the journey here and what happened on the boat. Your hand was still tingling.

The Melusines immediately surrounded the two of you, talking over each other.

“Your wife is so pretty, Monsieur Neuvillette!”

“I wish you invited us to the wedding!”

“Does this mean you’re our new mother?”

“When are you going to have a baby?”

The last two questions took by complete surprise. “P-Pardon me??” you spluttered.

Neuvillette, noticing how flustered you were, cleared his throat. “Everyone, I understand that you’re all excited to meet Madame Neuvillette, but you’re overwhelming her by coming up to her all at once.”

The Melusines looked sheepish. “Sorry, Madame,” they said in unison.

“There’s no need to apologize,” you said, although you were still not over the whole “mother” thing (your mind had automatically blocked out the baby question. You were still trying to wrap your head around the whole “being married” thing). You knew that the Melusines saw Neuvillette as their father and that he treated them as though they were his own daughters, but you hadn’t thought about how you factored into these relationships. I mean, in that sense, I guess I’m their stepmother…?

Having spent much time with the Melusines recently, you had begun to think of them as your little sisters.

A blue Melusine with brown hair stepped forward. “Monsieur Neuvillette is right, everyone,” she said in a tone that you immediately recognized to be that of a big sister. “We should all introduce ourselves to Madame one by one. I’ll go first. I’m Serene.”

The others followed her example and introduced themselves. You tried your best to remember them all. Cosanzeana, Iara, Sedile, Virda…

“Madame,” Sedene said. “Shall we give you a tour of the village?”

“Yes, please do,” you said. The Melusines happily grabbed your hands and led you to the opening of the cave.

You couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you laid eyes on the enchanting sight before you. The contrast between the gloomy and dangerous Elynas above and this cozy and adorable underwater village was incredible. You had seen pictures of the village, but they failed to completely capture its charm, from the cupcake-shaped stone houses to their bubbling chimneys. The gentle light cascading down from above bequeathed a mysterious air to the village that made your heart leap. It looked just like the fairy villages in the picture books you loved as a child.

You wasted no time in taking pictures. The Melusines were delighted by the presence of your Kamera and asked if you could take photos of them as well, which you happily agreed to. So, the tour became a rather sluggish one as the Melusines led you around the village, taking turns to point out which house belonged to who, pointing out all the interesting spots and showing you their little knickknacks. You dutifully complied with their picture-taking requests. It was an absorbing process. You almost fancied yourself as an anthropologist, documenting the culture of an unknown civilization.

Neuvillette seemed content to hang back and let the Melusines take over. He, like you, was also surrounded by a gaggle of the little creatures. Whenever you glanced back, he was always in the midst of patting their heads or picking them up in his arms. You could hear him inquiring about them and their eager answers.

The party made its way past a basin. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a passageway, since it appeared to be bottomless. “This is how we go to the underwater part of the village,” a pink Melusine named Xana explained.

You peered down. You could just make out the blurry gray shapes of houses. It reminded you of the small pool that you arrived here from. Neuvillette told you that it was a secret shortcut that not many people knew about. It certainly lived up to its status as a shortcut, since you ended up at the bottom of the water in the blink of an eye, before you could even register the fact that Neuvillette had wrapped his arms around your waist and asked you to close your eyes and hold your breath for a few seconds as he dove into the water with you.

You felt your face turn slightly warm as you recalled the feeling of his arms around you and being pressed against his chest. He was more muscular than he looked, under all that loose-flowing fabric.

You stole another glance at him. He was in the middle of examining Xana’s collection of shiny things that she was proudly holding out to him. Sensing your gaze, he looked up and met your eyes.

Before you could look away, he walked up to you. “What is it, Madame?”

“Um…” you fumbled for something to say, something that wasn’t related to Neuvillette’s strong, comforting arms or his broad chest. “I was wondering if we could go visit the underwater part of the village.”

“Underwater?” Neuvillette repeated. The corners of his lips turned downward. “I would dearly love to, but I don’t believe you can hold your breath for that long.”

“Oh, I see,” you felt a little disappointed, but there was nothing you could do. You’ve always had a fascination with underwater structures and ruins and the like, but it seemed that you could only see them in pictures.

“Can you swim, Madame?” Xana asked.

“Yes, but not very well. I can only stick to shallow water,” you said. “Monsieur Neuvillette is a very good swimmer, though. We got all the way down here in seconds. It’s like he was born for it.”

The Melusines looked at each other and giggled, like they were sharing a secret.

The tour made its final stop at the entrance of a conjoining cavern. You spotted a small house some distance away. “That’s where Mamere lives,” Serene pointed at it. “She’s out of the village getting materials for her paints right now, though.”

“I was wondering where she was,” Neuvillette mused. “Is she still keeping to herself most of the time?”

“Yeah, I told her that she needed to stay in the village since today’s a special day, but you know how it is with that kid…” Serene let out a long-suffering sigh that you emphasized with as a fellow older sister. “She does whatever she wants.”

“Who’s Mamere?” you asked.

It was a Melusine named Topyas who answered. “She’s a painter like you, Madame! I don’t really get her paintings, though.”

“Yeah, what’s the word humans use again—abstract? Her paintings are very different from yours. Madame’s paintings are much easier to understand,” Xana said.

“Oh?” That surprised you. You never thought that the drawings you did for practice for make it this far across the nation. “You’ve seen my paintings? Did the Melusines from the city show them to you?”

“No, it was Monsieur Neuvillette. He showed them to us when he came here before.”

“He did?” you looked at him. He nodded. You thought he looked a bit bashful.

“I hope that is okay with you,” he said. “I wanted all the Melusines to see them.”

“Well…um, I have no problem with it,” you looked down at your feet. It was funny. You never had much attachment to your paintings and considered them to be adequate enough to be part of your portfolio, but having them shown around like this almost made you wonder if there was something in them Neuvillette and the Melusines saw that you didn’t see. “I’m just worried that they’re too boring for your tastes. They’re just landscapes of my hometown, after all.”

The Melusines disagreed vehemently. “But they’re so pretty. It feels like I’m right there when I’m looking at them,” Iara said, clapping her hands together.

“I really love the sunflowers,” Cosanzeana said wistfully. “I wish I could grow them down here, but they need the sun. You’re so lucky that you get to live in a place with so many flowers.”

“Is that so? I think you’re the lucky ones, getting to live in this beautiful village,” you gestured around. If you had the chance to live near the skeleton of a giant beast, you’d never leave. Of course, you did not say that out loud.

“Monsieur Neuvillette also said that you’re very modest, Madame,” Serene said.

“Oh, really?” you looked at Neuvillette again. He avoided your gaze this time. “What else did he say about me?”

“He told us that you’re—"

Neuvillette cleared his throat a bit too loudly. “Oh, that reminds me, we prepared a feast for you!” Serene said quickly. You could hear amusement in her voice. “Are you two hungry?”

“I’m not,” you said.

“Nor am I. Your sandwiches were very filling, Madame,” Neuvillette said.

“Madame made sandwiches for you, Monsieur?” a Melusine asked.

“She did, and they were delicious,” Neuvillette said, smiling at you. Really, this man… “I only wish she made more so we can share them with all of you.”

The Melusines looked at you with expectant eyes. Looks like you’ve just been volunteered for more sandwich-making duties in the near future. “How about this? Why don’t you all come to Monsieur Neuvillette’s house when the sunflowers are in full bloom? I’ll make plenty of sandwiches for all of you then. And Monsieur Neuvillette can entertain all of you while you’re there,” you gave him your sweetest smile. “If it’s okay with you, of course.”

Neuvillette looked a bit dazed as he stared at your face. Perhaps you had gone a bit too far. There were a lot of Melusines here, after all. But then he blinked and shook his head slightly, like he was awakened from a trance. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We’ll send the invitations here when the time comes.”

Overjoyed by the invitation, the Melusines quickly began to chat amongst themselves over what to wear and what to bring. As it was still mid-afternoon and neither you nor Neuvillette were hungry yet, it was decided that you would spend your time leisurely until evening arrived.

So for the next few hours, you played and chatted with the Melusines. You had expected them to ask you endless questions about your marriage, but they didn’t. Perhaps Neuvillette had told them something beforehand, saving you the trouble of coming up with answers. Playing with the Melusines brought back fun memories of your days assisting at the schoolhouse back home. For some reason, they were infinitely fascinated by your life and hometown up above. You told them about the fields of wildflowers, the majestic mountains you played in when you were a child, and even a bit about your life in the city. They stroked their mitten-like hands along the fabric of your skirt and exclaimed over it like it was made of spun gold. They admired the flower in your hair and squealed over the fact that Neuvillette had a matching one in his hair.

Up until now, you had always considered your life to be drab and hopeless. It wasn’t even tragic, just lackluster. At home, you were overlooked in favor of your sister, and in high society, you were invisible. It wasn’t lost on you that your life could be much worse. However, as destined as you were for a life of quiet spinsterhood, it could still be amended. You could still have shreds of your childhood aspirations, molded into adult reality.

That was why you adopted an attitude of always looking forward and never dwelling on the past for too long. Staying too long in one spot would only trap you there forever. You’ve read all sorts of stories about old gods and heroes who met their downfall by clinging too much to the past. You were nowhere near their level, of course, but your old art teacher told you that all the most valuable lessons were learned from history, and you trusted her with all your heart.

But being with the Melusines—being with Neuvillette—was starting to make you see the color in your black-and-white life. You were beginning to see that there was something beyond the constrained life you were born into and destined for.

Don’t lose sight of your goal. Don’t forget who you are. The little voice in your head warned you. Thinking of your future plans always managed to clear your heart and refresh your mind. But now, it sounded strangely muffled compared to before.

Speaking of Neuvillette, you looked around for him. Currently, you were resting on a bench. He had wanted to stay with you, but you encouraged him to play with the Melusines. This was one of his rare visits, after all. You spotted him with some Melusines by the waterfall. Laume—the Melusine who wanted to be a journalist, if you remembered correctly—was holding the Kamera and instructing him to pose. You watched as he placed his hand on his hip and held up his hand in a peace sign. He really does indulge them. You knew that he had a soft, paternal side he showed only to the Melusines, but having it displayed before you like this was something else.

More Melusines came up to him, wanting to take pictures with him. He patted their heads with a fond smile. A lucky few even got the chance to ride on his shoulders. His affection for the Melusines was evident in his every expression and gesture. And it was clear that the Melusines reciprocated that love just as much.

“I hope you aren’t too tired out by the kids,” Serene said, sitting next to you. “They can be a handful.”

“It’s all right, I’ve done this kind of thing before,” you waved your hand. “I’m more worried about you. Shouldn’t you be playing with Monsieur Neuvillette like the others instead of running around taking care of everyone?”

You’ve learned that Serene was indeed the big sister of the Melusines here, the one who looked after everyone and sent reports to Neuvillette about the goings-on of the village. She really was a big sister.

“That’s my job, after all. I’ve got to take it seriously, just like how Monsieur Neuvillette always takes his job seriously,” Serene said matter-of-factly, but you could hear the admiration in her voice.

“But it’s good to take breaks sometimes. Even Monsieur Neuvillette does, like today.”

“Today…” Serene mused. Then she smiled. “You know, Madame, when we learned that he was bringing you with him to the village, we were so happy. We thought, ‘Finally, Monsieur Neuvillette has someone by his side.’”

“Someone by his side?” you repeated. “But he has all of you, doesn’t he?”

But even as you say it, you thought that you understood what Serene meant. You had the same thoughts before.

“What I mean is, someone who can share his worries and burdens. Someone he can be himself with. I don’t know much about how human marriages work, but I think that’s what it’s supposed to be, right? I’m so happy that Monsieur Neuvillette has finally found someone like that. You must be really special.”

You looked away from the Melusine, biting your lip. Serene didn’t know the circumstances surrounding this marriage, of course. She didn’t know that it was based on pity and self-interest. She didn’t know that you and him were simply wading in shallow water, never intending to go deeper than that. She didn’t know that even for this trip, it was an obligation handed down to him by the Archon, not something he did because he wanted to, or that there was something he was refusing to tell you for reasons you didn’t understand.

You didn’t say any of this out loud. Instead, you forced a smile. “I’m really not all that special,” you said.

“But Monsieur Neuvillette thinks you are, Madame! You should have heard how he talked about you. And his face! I’ve never seen him look like that before.”

“What did he say about me?” you asked, curious. You couldn’t imagine it.

“Oh…I shouldn’t. I don’t want to embarrass him,” Serene giggled. “But trust me, they were all good things. And he was right, you’re as wonderful and lovely as he described!”

Wonderful and lovely? Those were two words that better described your sister, not you. You almost wondered if Neuvillette had been talking about someone else.

Just then, a Melusine ran up to you. “Madame! Come take a picture with us!”

“Okay, I’m coming,” you answered, then took Serene’s hand. “Come on, let’s go take some pictures.”

The crowd of Melusines immediately made room for you to stand next to Neuvillette. You glanced up at him. Despite having to keep up with the Melusines’ seemingly boundless energy for so long, he didn’t look the slightest bit fatigued.

“Are you feeling more rested, Madame?” he whispered as you positioned yourself next to him. “Hungry yet?”

“Yes to the first question, and no, I’m not hungry yet,” you whispered back. “Are you?”

“I also am not hungry,” he answered. There was a short pause before he asked another question. “…Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course I am,” you said in surprise, for he sounded genuinely troubled. “Why do you ask?”

“It is just that…” Neuvillette trailed off, as though searching for the right words. “I couldn’t help but notice that you had a rather grave expression on your face when you were chatting with Serene.”

He could see your expression from all the way over here? You looked at the other side of the village, where the bench you had been sitting. His eyesight must be incredible.

“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,” you said airily. “We were just chatting. And that’s how my face always looks. But why were you looking over at us, anyways, when you have all these charming young ladies around you?”

One of the Melusines in front of you giggled and turned around. “That’s because he was feeling lonely without you, Madame!” she chirped.

“Yeah, that’s why he keeps looking in your direction!” Another Melusine chimed in.

“Is that true, Monsieur Neuvillette?” you looked back at him. His face was kept carefully smooth and expressionless, but you could see spots of color in his cheeks. “Can you really not bear a single minute away from me?”

“I…” Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to take off and leave right there and then. But he ended up being saved from having to come up with an answer by Laume.

“Okay, everyone! I finally figured out how to use the timer!” she announced. “Now, we can all take a group picture together!”

Wow, I didn’t know Kameras from back then had timers, you thought as Laume directed the Melusines to cluster together as closely as possible so that they could all be captured by the Kamera’s lens. You and Neuvillette eventually ended up in a position where you were basically pressed against each other.

“Madame,” you heard him whisper into your ear. Despite this not even being the first time, your heart never failed to beat just a little faster. “May I put my arm around you?”

You looked up at him. His lilac eyes bored into your own, exerting an invisible force. You nodded, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand resting just above your hip. You could feel the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric and into your skin. The weight of it made you feel twitchy and lightheaded. It felt like every nerve in your body was concentrated there in that one spot.

“Get ready, everyone! The Kamera’s about to go off in five seconds! Smile!” Laume shouted. She proceeded to run back to the crowd. Just then, you felt him tighten his grip imperceptibly, drawing you towards him. Your head brushed against his shoulder.

The Kamera flashed, capturing this moment in time forever. With that, the crowd dispersed, and Neuvillette let go of your waist. You could still feel the shadow of his touch. You stared after him, wanting to say something, but didn’t know what.

A pink Melusine called out to him. “Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette, could we please play with your hair now?”

“Why, certainly,” Neuvillette said. The Melusines cheered.

“Madame, have you ever played with Monsieur Neuvillette’s hair before?” one of them asked.

“I haven’t,” you said, causing them to gasp in surprise.

They insisted that you be granted the honor of touching Neuvillette’s hair first, despite your protestations. As for the man in question, he had no problem with it, although his mind seemed to be somewhere else. And so was yours, for that matter. You just couldn’t figure him out, and it bothered you greatly. Were friendships supposed to be this complicated? You thought that once you and Neuvillette agreed to be friends, things would be so much easier between the two of you now. In some ways, it was, but it also wasn’t, as it was in this case.

Why am I feeling so strangely about this? You wondered to yourself. He just put his arm around me, that’s all. Why, just today, he carried me in his arms when we came down here and kissed the back of my hand because I complimented him (an overreaction, but I can understand the logic behind it). And I did run into his arms and cling to him (only because I was startled by the vishap)…I suppose the difference is that I can’t think of any conceivable reason that he would put his arm around me back there.

Stop overthinking, you told yourself once again. It’ll just give you a headache. Remember, easy and casual!

“Madame…Madame!” High-pitched voices pierced through your thoughts. Before you knew it, you were sitting on the stone bench again. Neuvillette was perched on the end, his back facing you. The ends of his tied hair were resting on the stone surface. His pure white locks reminded you of untrodden snow, too pristine to touch. You uneasily wondered if you should wash your hands first.

“I brought the hair things!” Cosanzeana announced, bringing over a box. It contained combs, brushes, ribbons, and various other hair ornaments. It seemed that this was a favorite activity of the Melusines. Neuvillette was evidently used to it as well, for he was sitting quietly with his back erect and his hands clasped in his lap.

It was somewhat unnerving to have an audience of bright, inhuman eyes watch you, but you got on with it. You slowly undid the black ribbon at the end of his hair and placed it by your side, then leaned forward to remove the feathered hairclip and Lamplight Lily tucked near his temple. You tried your best not to touch his skin, but he probably didn’t feel it.

His hair was even more stunning unbound. You couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through the silky strands. You couldn’t lie to yourself—there were times when you were tempted to touch his beautiful hair, and now one of your secret dreams had come true.

“Monsieur Neuvillette’s hair is so lovely, isn’t it?” Serene said, beaming.

“It sure is,” you said. His hair had an awful tendency to get tangled and snagged in the smallest cracks and crevices, so you’ve always wondered why he didn’t cut it short for practicality’s sake. But honestly, if you had his hair, you would let it grow freely and run through the forest like a woodland creature, feeling your hair stream in the wind behind you. “I hope he never cuts it. It would be a tragedy for Fontaine when that happens.”

Your comment caused a horrified gasp to rise from the Melusines. “Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette, promise us that you’ll keep your hair as it is!” a few of them pleaded.

“I will not,” he assured them. “I prefer my hair the way it is as well.”

“They should pass a law that forbids scissors from being within three meters of Monsieur Neuvillette’s hair,” you said as you began to run the seashell comb through his hair.

“An interesting idea, though frivolous,” Neuvillette said. “I hardly think an edict like that would be much accepted among the people.”

“I think you’d be surprised at how many people are invested in your hair,” you said as you worked through a knot, trying to be as gentle as you could. You were thinking about an old classmate of yours who was obsessed with Neuvillette’s “luscious, pearlescent locks of moonlight” (the girl who coined that phrase would go on to write for the Steambird) and wondered what she would say if she saw you now. “And I don’t see how this law is any more frivolous than not being allowed to place fruit tarts on unheated trays or put unfinished Fonta in the middle of the road.”

“You’ve been reading up on the laws of Fontaine, Madame?” Neuvillette sounded genuinely surprised. “You never shown much interest in judicial affairs.”

“I am your wife, after all,” you said. And there’s not much else besides legal codices to read in your house, you added silently. A trip to the library was due. “It’s perfectly normal for a wife to take a little interest in her husband’s work, isn’t it? Some of it is actually quite interesting.”

You weren’t sure how much the Melusines knew about the truth of your marriage, but you thought you should at least put on the façade. Neuvillette didn’t say anything in response.

You tried to be as gentle as you could as you untangled the knots and snarls. Inwardly, you marvelled at how healthy and well-maintained his hair was. What is his haircare regimen? You once again wondered as you idly twirled a lock around your index finger. It even smelled nice. You had the urge to bury your face in his hair. I bet he’s the type who only uses soap to wash his hair. It must be a pain to brush it in the morning, though.

The long, blue ornaments were getting in the way. You grabbed them at the ends and pressed them down, but they bounced back up. Thinking that you should take them out, you looked for the place where they were clipped into his hair, only to find to your amazement that they were attached to his head.

You rubbed the ornaments between your fingers. They didn’t feel like they were made of synthetic materials. Were they…?

You heard a low grunt. “M-Madame…w-what are you doing?” Neuvillette sounded different. His voice was breathy, strained-sounding. Did you pull on his hair too hard?

“I wanted to move these blue hair ornaments, but…these aren’t ornaments, are they?”

“They are not.”

“Are they antennae, then? Or feelers?”

There was a brief silence. “They are horns ,” Neuvillette said at last. He sounded offended.

“Oh…” you looked at them again. What sort of creature would have such floppy horns, you thought, remembering how they fluttered about in the wind. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“You’ve never asked.”

“I see,” you said. “I’m sorry if I caused you pain.”

“You did not. It’s just that my horns are very…sensitive to touch, so please tell me beforehand if you are going to touch them.”

“Oh…okay,” You didn’t know what else to say. You hadn’t expected the conversation to go this way, and you were very glad that Neuvillette couldn’t see your face right now.

“Madame’s face is red!” a Melusine yelled. You turned and found a crowd of wide eyes flitting between you and Neuvillette.

You cleared your throat. “Who wants to help me braid Monsieur Neuvillette’s hair?” you said in an overly cheerful voice.

“Ooh, me, me!” the Melusines pressed forward eagerly. You inwardly let out a sigh of relief for diffusing the awkward situation, completely failing to notice the rosy flush that appeared on Neuvillette’s pale cheeks and the tensing of his neck.

With Neuvillette’s hair as the medium, you demonstrated various hairstyles—braids, ponytails, twin tails, and so on. It brought back fond memories of doing your sister’s hair. The Melusines happily helped with gathering flowers and ribbons to adorn Neuvillette’s hair. Much fun was had, and many pictures were taken. Neuvillette remained admirably composed upon seeing the monstrosities done to his hair in the mirror, but fortunately for him, no one else would ever see these sights.

Eventually, you felt hungry, and it was decided that dinner would be served shortly. As you were letting down Neuvillette’s hair, Topyas asked you a question. “Madame, why don’t you call Monsieur Neuvillette by just his name?”

“Well…” you had to think about it. Neuvillette, who had been shifting slightly, stilled. “It just feels a bit odd to not call him by his title. He’s such a great, accomplished man after all.”

“But aren’t you two married? I thought married couples call each other by their nicknames.”

“Everyone’s different,” you said, brushing Neuvillette’s hair. “Monsieur Neuvillette has always been Monsieur Neuvillette to me. He never calls me by my name either.”

“Huh, now that I think about it…” Topyas said, putting her hand on her chin. “That does make sense. It does feel a bit too formal, though.”

“Madame can call me whatever she feels most comfortable with,” Neuvillette said. “As I do with her.”

You tied the black ribbon to the end of his hair and returned the hair accessories to their original positions. You felt a complicated mix of emotions swirling within you.

Melusine cuisine was not what you expected. When the dishes were first served to you, you wondered if you were being poisoned. The meat was green and purple, and the dead eyes of the fish sticking out of the pie—it was called Poissonchant Pie, if you remembered correctly—briefly made you consider swearing off fish and pies for the rest of your life. And the scent was...stimulating, to say the least. Was this even edible , you wondered. You looked over at Neuvillette to see what he was going to eat.

“Why, this all looks delicious,” he said, surveying the dishes and smiling at the expectant crowd. “Thank you all for this wonderful meal.”

“Um...yes. Thank you, everyone,” you said.

Then, he elegantly brought a forkful of meat to his mouth, his eyes closed. In pleasure or resignation, you couldn’t tell. It didn’t seem to have any ill effects on him, but then again, he was not human, so it stood to reason that he had a stronger stomach than you.

Unfortunately, the sandwiches were all finished, and the Melusines were looking at you with their expectant bright eyes. You steeled yourself (and your stomach) and took a bite out of the oddly colored meat. Well, if I do get violently sick, at least Neuvillette is here. He can take me to the best doctors.

You forced yourself to chew and swallow. Surprisingly, the meat didn’t taste spoiled. In fact, it was quite good. You took another bite.

“Do you like my food, Madame?” the chef, Lutine, asked.

“Yes. It’s very good. You’re an excellent cook,” you said.

“Oh, I’m so happy to hear that!” she said with a sigh of relief. “Humans are put off by our dishes because of their appearances, so most of them don’t know how delicious our food actually is!”

“They’re definitely missing out,” you assured her, then sampled the pie. It was also very good, despite the eerie feeling that the fish were about to break into song. “There’s a lot of food here, though. I hope I can finish it all.”

“Monsieur Neuvillette only visits us here a few times a year, including his birthday,” Lutine explained. “So I make as many dishes as I could whenever he comes, so he can taste them all.”

“He only visits you a few times a year?” you repeated incredulously, looking at him. “Is he so busy?”

“Yes, he is. He almost never takes vacations,” it was Sedile, a Marechausee Phantom agent, who answered this time. “But now that he has you, Madame, maybe you can convince him to rest more.”

“Maybe,” you said vaguely, but you doubted you had that much influence on him. Next to you, Neuvillette continued to eat, not saying anything.

After the meal, you decided to take a private stroll in the side cavern where Mamere’s house was located. Neuvillette was being detained by the Melusines, so you slipped out when they weren’t looking.

Watching him and the Melusines made you feel a mix of emotions. It was gladdening to see him being surrounded by creatures who adored him so openly and unconditionally, but it also made you feel a bit lonely, like you were a star orbiting a sun on the outskirts of its gravitational field. He was much more relaxed with them as well, compared to when he was with you. It was almost as though you were seeing his real self.

It’s only natural, you thought to yourself. He and the Melusines have a long history together, and you’re just an outsider he didn’t even know existed until a few months ago. Besides, it’s hard to be so serious and formal with them.

There was no point in feeling gloomy. The sights here were far more interesting. You didn't have the Kamera with you, but that didn’t matter. You took enough pictures for one day. You just wanted to be alone with your thoughts and get some respite from all the bustle.

“Madame,” Neuvillette chose that moment to join you. “My apologies for leaving you all alone. But you mustn’t go off on your own like this. You can easily get lost in these caverns.”

“Don't worry about me,” you said. “I’ll stay close to the village. Please, feel free to go be with the Melusines. You’re their father, after all. I’ll join you later.”

“But we are on a date. It's highly ill-mannered of me to leave you alone.”

"Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette, there’s no need to keep up this pretense of a date. I do appreciate everything you’re doing and how seriously you’re taking this, but you should be concerned about your own relaxation more. You don’t visit Merusea Village as often as you would like, do you? You should make the most of your time here before we go back. I’ll be fine on my own. I’m used to it.”

You thought you sounded dependable and logical, but the look in Neuvillette’s eyes spoke otherwise. They were filled with alarm. His mouth moved, as though he wanted to say something, but no words came out. It was then that you knew that you had definitely said something wrong.

But before you could say anything, Neuvillette seemed to have finally found his words. “...Have I done something wrong?” His voice was a low whisper, but every word was transmitted to your ears clearly. It raised the hair on the back of your neck.

“W-What do you mean?” you frowned. “Of course not. You’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to me today.”

“What is it, then? Is this place not to your liking? Do you wish to go home now?” He took a step towards you, and you reflexively backed up. Neuvillette was looking down at you, his eyes piercing into your own. It didn’t strike you until then just how tall he was, and how intimidating he could be when he wanted to. Is this what criminals see? You thought even as your heartbeat hammered in your ears.

“No, not at all. I love this place and everyone here!” you shook your head vigorously. “I wish we could stay longer.”

“Then why are you pushing me away?” The usual silkiness in his voice was gone, replaced by something rougher and unfamiliar. You felt your heart beginning to beat quickly, your hands becoming slick with sweat. He took another step towards you. You stepped backwards once again and found yourself backed up against a pink wall.

“I-I’m not pushing you away! It’s just that I need a little bit of alone time to recover my energy after socializing with so many people, and there is no need for you to stick with me. It has nothing to do with you and the Melusines, and everything to do with me. I’m sure you understand that, don’t you, sir?”

“I do,” he said. “Indeed, I understand. But what I don’t understand is your insistence on there being no ‘need’ for me to stay by your side. If you ask it of me, I would be happy to accompany you in silence.”

“But I would not be,” you said. “Like I said before, this isn’t a real date, and we...aren’t a real couple. You don’t have to always be with me, especially since you don’t take a lot of personal holidays. I would rather you spend the free time you have with someone who isn’t as boring as me.”

You stated the last part matter-of-factly. It was simply the truth.

However, it seemed to have been the wrong thing to say.

Neuvillette stepped even closer to you. He bent down, his face so close to yours that your noses were practically touching.

“…Did Furina approach you?” he said, his voice as low as the bottom of the sea.

You stared at him blankly for a moment. Why was he bringing up Furina all of a sudden?

“She hasn’t,” you said after a pause.

Neuvillette’s intense gaze roved your face, as though to search for any signs of lying. You did your best to stare back at him. At last, he let out a breath and nodded slowly.

“Now,” you gritted out, putting all the force you could muster in your voice. “Could you please step away from me?”

At last, he seemed to realize that he was practically pinning you against the wall and quickly stepped back. A look of shame flashed across his face.

“My apologies,” he said at last. “I did not know what came over me.”

“Me neither,” you said curtly. “It’s very unlike you. Why did you ask me if Lady Furina approached me, anyways?”

Neuvillette did not answer, though you saw his jaw tense. His gaze flitted away from you. He seemed to have said something he shouldn’t have.

You pondered over it all. His question, his behavior over this past week, his fixation on being boring...it all clicked into place.

“Oh, it all makes sense now,” you said. Neuvillette’s face snapped back to yours. “Lady Furina called me boring and dull, didn’t she?”

Neuvillette’s silence was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that all she said about me?”

“...Yes.”

“I see,” you nodded. It all made sense now. How ridiculous this whole situation was. It felt like a heavy load had been lightened. “So it was nothing, really.”

“You’re not offended?” Neuvillette looked so confused that you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He flinched.

“Why would I be offended by the truth? It’s impressive how she was able to figure out my personality despite never meeting me. I suppose that’s to be expected of an Archon.”

“It is not true at all. She has no right to falsely disparage someone she has never met. You have every right to be angry. I will ask her to apologize to you.”

“There’s no need to go that far,” you exclaimed in shock. Furina was his superior, so you didn’t want to be the cause of conflict between the two of them, even though you doubted she would ever fire him. “Look, Monsieur Neuvillette, I know I’m not a very interesting person. Lady Furina isn’t the first person to call me boring. Plenty of others have before her as well. I’m used to it. It’s not the worst thing in the world, you know, to be called that. And—”

You broke off your sentence there, upon seeing the expression on his face. There was a deep furrow between his brows, and his jaw was clenched tightly. He looked...angry.

“Others have insulted you as well?” he said slowly. You found yourself suddenly fearing for the lives of those young ladies and gentlemen from so long ago.

“Well, I-I wouldn’t call it being insulted, e-exactly,” you stammered. Neuvillette’s eyes seemed to pin you in place. Grabbing onto whatever came to mind and vocalizing it was the only way to break the spell. “I-It’s just that my interests and hobbies aren’t what you call ‘in vogue,’ and you know, at balls, what most people want to talk about is the latest gossip and plays and fashion and things like that, all of which I’m woefully ignorant about. And, you know, I’m not beautiful, witty, or fashionable enough to make up for that, so really, it’s only natural for people to find me uninteresting. I don’t have much to offer.”

Oh, how wonderful. You hadn’t expected that your date would end up with you unearthing all your long-buried insecurities. A feeling of despair welled up within you. So much for maintaining a pleasant atmosphere. Of course, you would be the one to ruin this day.

“I don’t care anymore, though,” you hurriedly added, trying to salvage this in any way you could. “It’s all in the past now, when I was a teenager. In fact, I think having a plain personality is a benefit for the line of work I’ve chosen, so it all works out in the end. Like I said before, sir, being boring isn’t a crime and—”

“But you were hurt before,” Neuvillette interrupted. His eyes reminded you of rippling pools of water. You wanted to run away, but it was as though your legs had turned into stone. “And you are still hurt.”

“No, I told you, I’m completely over it! It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s nothing but petty teenage angst.”

“If you are over it, as you say, then why are you fixated on the idea that I would be bored with you. Even if it is in the past, it still occurred, and you continue to be affected by it. You have every right to be angry, to hold a grudge against those people.”

Now you recognized that additional emotion in his eyes. It was sadness. His eyes were rippling with unshed tears, and his lips were pressed tightly together.

He looked like he was about to cry.

You were utterly baffled. Why did he seem more upset than you about this? You had told him the truth. Those feelings of sadness, inferiority, and self-loathing were buried deep inside you long ago. You had made sure of it. Compared to the teenaged you from so long ago, you now felt lighter, as free as a bird.

“I...I don’t understand,” you whispered. Your voice came out a rasp. “Why do you care so much, sir? I’m sure you’ve seen people who suffered far worse than me."

“Why would I not care?” Neuvillette said. He placed his large, gloved hands on your shoulders. The gentle but firm weight of them made something within you unfurl. “You are someone dear to me. I cannot forgive anyone who has hurt you, even if they are the Archon herself. It does not matter how minor a slight it may be. Your feelings should be valued as much as anyone else’s. And...it pains me deeply when I hear you talk about yourself in such a way, that you believe them.”

Long buried memories resurrected themselves and flashed through your mind.

Of disinterested eyes sizing you up, then passing over you like you weren’t even there, landing on girls much more beautiful, girls you could never hope to be.

Of barely concealed bored looks, looking past you to someone much more interesting.

Of incredulous sneers and raised eyebrows upon hearing of your interest in pressing flowers and Remurian history, and quick switches to far worldlier topics, like overseas vacations or the latest plays at the Opera Epiclese. Conversations you couldn’t even hope to partake in, because you came from a family that could only afford to go to the opera house once a year. You didn’t even have the confidence to bluff your way through these things.

Balls, you had quickly learned, were like plays. You were either in a starring role, or you were a background actor without even a name.

It wasn’t as though anyone had ever publicly humiliated you or ganged up on you like something out of a cheap romance novel. You were too insignificant for that.

Eventually, you had learned to endure these little jabs, hardening your mind and heart. You were a poor baron’s daughter, someone with very little standing in the grand scheme of things. You couldn’t afford to offend your betters, anyways. There was nothing you could do except to shrug it off, to polish and improve yourself, and to make yourself worthy of being seen and chosen. Your parents had told you so as well. You couldn’t--shouldn’t--rely on them in such matters. They had their hands tied as well.

The only one you could rely on was yourself. If no one else was there to pick up the pieces, then you would have to be the one to do it. That was a philosophy you had lived by, and it worked out for you so far.

But now...

You stared at the distraught man in front of you. A man with too much empathy for someone who didn’t deserve it, especially compared to those who had gone through actual suffering.

You wanted to push him away again, to reassure him that there was nothing to be sad about, that it was wasted on you. You wanted to tell him to go be with someone happier, more cheerful, and to leave you be in your misery until you could recover yourself once more and go back to him with a smile.

But then you remembered that young girl crying into her pillow after a particularly difficult ball where she didn’t get asked to dance even once. The herbarium (as you had insisted on calling it) that you diligently maintained since you were a child, thrown away in the trash.

Even boring, dull girls had feelings to hurt.

You stepped towards him and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, burrowing your face into his jacket.

“Madame...?” you heard his stunned voice above your head. But his arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you deeper into his embrace. Hot tears prickled the back of your eyelids, but you let them flow. You could pay for his dry cleaning later.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into his clothes, then raised your head to look straight into his eyes. “Neuvillette. For always thinking of my feelings, far more than I do myself. It makes me...very happy.”

You really were a terrible friend. You thought you were putting him at ease by maintaining a respectable distance between the two of you, by dismissing his worries. But that had the opposite effect.

He coddled you, something you hated, but maybe it was okay to sink and give in sometimes.

“There is no need to thank me,” Neuvillette said. “I am only doing what I ought to do.”

“I know. And that’s what I love about you.”

Neuvillette’s eyes widened. You made no explanation for your words. He placed his hand on the back of your head and gently stroked it. You closed your eyes, wanting to engrave this warmth into your memories.

Suddenly, you heard gasps and giggles coming from the cavern’s entrance. Both you and Neuvillette whipped your heads in that direction. Small, colorful heads squealed and quickly hid behind a rock.

“It looks like we got an audience,” you said.

“Indeed. How troublesome,” Neuvillette said. Neither of you let go of each other.

One little Melusine poked her head out from the rock. “Kiss!” she shouted.

Several of her sisters joined her. “Monsieur Neuvillette, kiss her!”

The two of you looked at each other. Neuvillette’s face was a mixture of awkwardness, embarrassment, and affection. Your face mirrored his, you were sure.

"Neuvillette, can you bend down for me?” you whispered, then changed your mind and stood up on your tiptoes, then pressed your lips against his smooth, marble cheek. But unlike marble, it was soft and warm.

You heard a sharp inhalation from Neuvillette, which was quickly followed by a chorus of high-pitched squeals and cheers.

As you watched Neuvillette’s cheeks turn red and felt your own burn, you couldn’t help but think that Furina had been on the right track with this whole marriage business, even if you disagreed with the way she went about it.

Neuvillette deserved to have someone who loved him wholeheartedly and without hesitation. Someone who can serve as a comforting shelter for him, just like he did for you.

“Do you really have to leave so soon?”

You and Neuvillette were standing at the entrance to Merusea Village once more. The Melusines were gathered there to see you off.

“It is almost dusk. I must bring Madame home before it gets dark,” Neuvillette told them. The Melusines let out “Awws” of disappointment.

“I had a wonderful time with all of you. I’ll never forget it,” you assured them, patting your purse. As a parting gift, they had given you a heap of shiny components, which you gratefully accepted, although you wondered where you were going to put it all.

“Thank you all for being such good hosts for us,” Neuvillette said, patting their heads. You did the same.

As you looked at the rows of smiling faces, you thought that those who were loved by Neuvillette were the luckiest people in the world.

“Madame, when you visit us for Monsieur Neuvillette’s birthday, I’ll play a song I composed for you!” Topyas said.

“Neuvillette's birthday?” you repeated quizzically.

“That’s right! He visits us every year on his birthday. Lutine bakes a really tasty cake for him, too. You will come with him as well, right?”

Neuvillette’s birthday was at the end of the year, if you remembered correctly. Would you even be married to him by then?

But faced with such a shining, hopeful visage, you could do nothing except smile and nod.

“Madame, we’re above water now.”

Neuvillette said into your ear. He watched as your eyes opened slowly, the fluttering of your eyelashes reminding him of a butterfly’s wings. You let out your held breath, which caused the strands of his hair to flutter. His arm was under your knees, and your arms were circled around his neck. Your head was resting on his shoulder. A small part of him wished he delayed in telling you that you had emerged from the water.

He carefully set you down on the ground, steadying you by holding your elbow. You smiled up at him gratefully, then turned your head to the scenery in front of you.

“Oh, did it rain?” you looked around. Indeed, there were shallow puddles on the dirt path that led to this pool, and the grass was glistening with water droplets. The air had that pure, refreshing quality of a passed storm. “It’s good that we missed it.”

Neuvillette could only nod. There was something different here. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Shall we head back to the boat now? Oh, I hope it hasn’t gotten too drenched by the rain.”

The two of you began to walk back to the beach. Neuvillette offered his elbow to you, worried that you might slip on the wet, muddy ground, and you linked your arm through it, thanking him. As you strolled down the path, your arms brushing against each other, it hit him, suddenly, what was different.

The small space that you maintained between you and him had disappeared.

The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink. Little birds chirped in the trees. As you neared the beach, Neuvillette saw ships of all sizes, either sailing back to Fontaine or setting off to distant harbors.

Neither of you spoke much. Neuvillette was reminded of the calm and quiet after a storm, when everything was newly refreshed and washed clean.

The tension he had sensed from you ever since he met you remained, but it seemed to have been chipped away a little bit. He still wasn’t sure what happened, but he was glad of it.

All he knew was that he was a terrible judge of character.

He had assumed that being a quiet, mild-mannered woman, he wouldn’t have the issue of having to deal with being overwhelmed by extreme emotions, but he was wrong.

When he was with you, every emotion within him, from joy to sadness to anger, seemed magnified tenfold.

The boat was there, right where he had docked it. Neuvillette did not have many chances to go boating, and he always preferred to swim anyways. However, recalling how your hair blew in the wind and how your eyes sparkled as you gazed out at sea, he was beginning to see its charms.

“What a beautiful sunset!” he heard you exclaim. The orange sun was near the horizon, gilding the waves gold.

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at the sight. Had a sunset ever been this mesmerizing before?

“Neuvillette, let’s take a picture together with the sunset in the background. We never took a picture of just us together, have we?” you turned to him suddenly.

For a moment, Neuvillette didn’t register your words. His mind was too preoccupied with the sunset, trying to figure out what made this one so different from the thousands he viewed before. And then, it struck him lightning.

"You’re...calling my name without my title now.” That was the first thing that came out of his mouth. He inwardly cringed at his forwardness.

“Um...yes,” you said, looking a little bashful. “To be honest, it is a little silly of me to keep calling you Monsieur for so long, since we’re friends. Do you hate it?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head vigorously. Hearing you call him by simply his name, even if it wasn’t his real name, sparked something in him. He felt like he was hearing his name for the first time when it came from your lips. “And yes, let us take a picture together.”

You fiddled with the Kamera and walked around to get the right position and to figure out the timer function. Once that was done, you ran back to him, having placed the device on a nearby tree stump. There was five seconds before the Kamera would go off. Before this moment would be captured forever.

“May I put my arm around your shoulders, Madame?” he asked. It felt wrong to just stand side by side.

“Yes,” you nodded, and just as he did so, the Kamera’s flash went off.

I hope I had a good expression on my face, he thought. Smiling on command was not an ability he possessed.

“Shall we go now?” you said after you retrieved the Kamera. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”

“Wait, there is one more thing I need,” he said. It was something he had been waiting for all day.

“What is it?” You looked up at him.

“Madame, do you remember how you said that you will give me feedback for the date? Would you allow me to receive it now?”

“Feedback?” you repeated, your expression incredulous. “Wait, you actually want it?”

“Yes, of course I do,” he said. “Your opinion means a great deal to me.”

“If that's the case...” you tilted your head slightly, frowning. “I must admit that I have very little experience with dates and other romantic things of that nature. I’m not sure if my opinion would be very valuable.”

“It does not matter. I want to know what you think.”

"Alright then, if you insist,” you cleared your throat dramatically. Neuvillette leaned forward a little unconsciously. “In all my days of existence, I have never enjoyed myself more than today. If I were to suddenly drop dead right now, then at least I’m dying happy.”

“Surely you exaggerate.” Neuvillette was never quite able to grasp your sense of humor.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, letting out a small laugh. There was something bright in it that made his heart beat just a little faster. “It’s definitely in my top ten, though. After all, I was able to go to places I’ve never been before, meet new people, and experience new things. And best of all, I had a delightful companion by my side. What more can I ask for?”

“You truly think I’m a delightful companion?” It was rare for anyone to describe him that way.

“I do,” you said, conviction in your voice. “Better than I deserve, really.”

Neuvillette looked at you, taking you in. He felt a small amount of guilt upon hearing your words.

Truthfully, he had chosen the locations for today’s outing—the Weeping Willow of Erinnyes and Merusea Village—not only because he wished to take you to his favorite places.

He was driven by a selfish, vain desire to show himself in the best light to you by taking you to the places where he was most comfortable.

Entertaining guests was not his strong suit. Taking a young lady out on a date was even less so. He lacked ideas as to where to take you, so he defaulted to these remote locations, far from the human world that he had little interest in.

But as he looked at your content face, he felt something like a chasm within him. It was ever-widening, an inexplicable need to be filled.

Self-indulgence was dangerous. He was well-aware of that. It would be difficult to escape such a trap, no matter how sweetly it beckoned.

Perhaps his time in the human world had weakened his resolve.

“Let me take you to a restaurant next time,” the words came out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “I am no expert on cuisine, but...”

“I’ll choose for us, then,” you said. “There are a few places I’ve been dying to try out.”

Neuvillette nodded. He silently pledged to savor whatever was served to him, no matter how dry it may be.

He reached out his hand to help you onto the boat, but you didn’t take it. Instead, you asked him a question.

“Did you have a good time today, Neuvillette?”

He was startled. “Why do you ask?”

“Because this is a date. It’s a collaboration between two people. It's not a good date if only one of us enjoyed ourselves.”

Neuvillette pondered your question. He thought of your look of wonder upon seeing the willow tree and Merusea Village, the sight of you playing and chatting with the dear Melusines, the little smiles you’d give him, the feel of you in his arms, the sensation of your hands in his hair and around his horns, the kiss...

How could one day feel so long and yet so short at the same time?

A rush of warmth surged through his body. He took your hand in his and raised it to his mouth. Then, before your astonished eyes, he brushed his lips against the back of your hand.

“This day will be engraved into my memories until the end of time,” he said solemnly, looking directly into your eyes. “I have no complaints about anything. You were absolutely perfect.”

He saw your cheeks becoming rosy. You looked away, but he didn’t miss the way your lips turned up in a smile. “And you say I exaggerate,” he heard you mumble.

The two of you went onboard the boat and sailed back home.

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