scarletwritesshit

[scarletwritesshit]

Today we're sharing sneak peeks of some of the art to be featured in "Chasing the Storm"! Can you guess the characters?

Pre-orders open December 20 at a pay-what-you-want price starting from $10. All proceeds go to Mutual Aid Disaster Relief, a nationwide grassroots organization helping people recover from natural disasters.

[scarletwritesshit]

Louis Guiabern x Will🐍One Last Dance

🐍 VI. The Count will fight for you; you need only to be still.

Once the curtain of Louis's cape finally lowered, Will had a clear view of the carnage before him. A terrified soldier laid back on the ground, his face stained with what was once a most valued comrade of his. At the foot of the table, the comrade in question lay lifeless as the blood spilling from his neck seeped in between the nooks of the wood.

Louis himself was all too pleased with the uproar he had sparked. He stood firmly on the table with an unwavering smile, the crimson blood splattered on his face contrasting his icy blue eyes.

Witnessing a murder personally wasn’t Will’s problem. He had claimed countless lives of beasts with his own hands. It was the fact that Louis was far too eager to slaughter any of those who dared to oppose him, even if it meant turning against his own soldiers.

And he was all too happy to do so with a smile on his face.

"My deepest apologies for catching you in the crossfire of such conflict," Louis said, stepping down from the table and sheathing his blade, "but he shall no longer be a concern of ours."

"Wasn’t that a little...extreme?" Will asked.

"If he held a grudge against me strong enough to stay within the ranks, then he is not one to be trusted outside of the army with the knowledge of internal affairs. Simple as that," he said.

As twisted as the reality may be, he unfortunately made a good point. If the soldier were to choose a more honest and clean method of departure, nothing would be present to hold him back from leaking his knowledge of the guard’s innermost operations.

Louis turned around and smirked at Will. Only now was he able to grasp the brutality of the scene. Blood of the deceased soldier drenched Louis’s chestplate and the fabric of his cape, and the damp splatters shone on his face.

"Dead men tell no tales."

Which meant that if Will were to catch wind of the secrets of the prince's curse, or whatever other skeletons the count was hiding in his closet, he would be forever bound to Louis one way or another. Not even a glance was necessary for Will and Gallica to convey their fear to one another as they both stared at the count in speechless terror.

Seeing the obvious spike in their anxiety, Louis's gaze softened, which only had the opposite of the intended effect.

"Darling, you have no reason to fear. Your enthusiasm alone is worth protecting."

Protecting. Such ironic words coming from a man like him.

"Sorry. New recruit anxiety I guess," Will blurted out.

"I did not intend for you to be exposed to such travesty so soon," Louis said, wiping the blood off of his face, staining his white glove, "but it was necessary. He was about to kill you."

"Is this a normal occurrence within your ranks...?"

"Typically, no. This was merely an unfortunate case. A soldier who turns their nose up at another because of the circumstances of their birth is no soldier of mine."

Some of the soldiers raised their eyebrows in skepticism, Gallica included, but Will’s thoughts circled back to the assumption he had made prior.

Louis wasn’t fooling around when it came to the idea of enforcing equality among the tribes. He had a noble vision, albeit some strange ways of seeing it through. Regardless, he was almost starting to sound like a leader that Will would’ve been able to get behind.

If he hadn’t been the bastard that cursed the prince, of course.

"You are free to finish your food elsewhere while the mess is tended to."

"...Actually, I’m… not really hungry," Will said, getting up from his chair.

He was hungry, but his appetite was understandably killed by witnessing a man get slaughtered mere inches away from him.

"...Very well."

Before he would become indirectly responsible for any more murders, Will slipped out of the mess hall, turning a blind eye to the carnage. His so-called tactic of stealth was not overlooked. Louis watched out of the corner of his eyes as the young elda tried to slip by unnoticed. He chose to not give chase, however, and simply watched without pressing the matter.

After Will and Gallica were a fair distance away, they both sighed heavily.

"Not even a day on this thing and someone’s already dead," Gallica complained.

"All because someone talked crap about him," Will said. "We have to watch what we say around here."

"I have a sneaking suspicion that that wasn’t the only reason he lashed out."

"What do you mean?"

"Sure, he was shittalking Louis plenty, but a lot of it was directed at you being on board. Did you not notice the look that the count gave you?"

"I did, and it was sort of..."

"Sort of what?"

"Never mind."

"Sort of what, Will?"

"...Peculiar? Though, it could just be me-"

"I swear to god if you fall for the enemy, the first thing that the prince is going to hear when he wakes up is that his 'savior' was too busy in bed-"

"Okay okay, I get it!" Will said, shooing at Gallica, flustered. "Sorry I don’t have a raging bloodlust then?"

"Have you even heard how Strohl talks about that guy? That’s bloodlust. This is a completely different kind of lust."

"At this point, I think you’re just being mean to me."

"It’s hard to not be when you aren’t even trying to defend yourself.”

Will went silent for a few moments. He had neglected to defend himself this entire time. Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt a drive to.

"You joke with me. Do I really have to?"

"Not exactly, but the fact that you haven’t is a little bit eyebrow raising."

"Agh...never mind that. We aren’t going to get anywhere talking like this."

"I suppose you have a point. Not like we can do much talking anyways with..." Gallica said, silently looking around to signal to Will.

"We might have an opportunity coming up," Will said, thinking.

"The soiree, right?"

He nodded his head. "It’s still quite a few days off, but that gives us time to become accustomed to the place."

"Oh yeah," Gallica said, smiling deviously. "I like the way you think."

"We still have yet to survive one day here," Will noted. "By the way, have you figured out where we are going to sleep yet?"

The two of them stared at each other in silence.

"...I thought Louis would’ve told you that," Gallica said.

"...He didn’t. I guess we should go ask...?"

"You plan to just waltz right up to the guy after he splattered the blood of his own soldier everywhere?"

"I mean, that seems to be the norm around here."

Gallica facepalmed. "You’re so damn nonchalant about this whole thing. The way you fit in is almost scary."

"At least its believable!"

"A little too believable, even I get concerned that your act is a little too real sometimes.

...Is walking up to him and asking really what you want to do?"

Will shrugged. "I have to become a natural if I don’t want to get caught. Besides, it’s not like I’m asking to sleep in his bed or anything,"

Gallica went to object, but Will sprinted off before she could get a single word in.

"I sure hope he knows what he’s doing," she said, before flying to catch up with him.

While looking for Louis, they scouted out what they could of the gauntlet runner in the meantime. What they noticed very quickly was that it was big and spacious. Sure, it was expected for a gauntlet runner to be a massive feat of technology, but this one was so incredibly huge that he would’ve argued that this place was a fortress. In truth, if he didn’t know that it was a gauntlet runner, he would have just as easily confused it for one in the first place.

As they inconspicuously poked around, they found neither trace of Louis nor useful information on how to kill him. Though no good leader would allow such vital information to be left out in the open, Will had to admit that the security was quite well maintained nonetheless. It did, however, making sneaking around all the more difficult.

"We're getting nowhere looking around aimlessly like this," Gallica said.

"Do you have any other better ideas?" Will asked.

"I thought that you were the brains of this operation, but you seem to disprove me time and again," she said, crossing her arms.

"All I can think of is to request a brief audience with him. But for a matter as trivial as sleeping quarters, I feel like that wouldn’t be a very good idea."

"The guy would kill for you. Literally. I think taking up maybe five minutes of his day is the least he could do."

"He didn’t kill for me. That soldier spoke out against him."

"Oh, but he miraculously managed to not stain your pretty face with a drop of blood," Gallica said, unable to suppress the urge to roll her eyes any longer.

She pushed Will's body forward with as much might as her little body would allow. Though her strength was minuscule, Will tripped over his feet, caught off guard by the sudden nudge of force. On the mutual agreement that they were out of options, they made their way to the office where they met Louis prior, hoping that he was in there. Praying that he was in there, even. The last place Will wanted to attempt to find him was his bedroom.

“Welp. Door’s not gonna knock on itself,” Gallica said as Will stared down the horribly imposing door.

Will could only hope that it actually would. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, as nothing could be ever be that easy for him. Swallowing his anxiety, he walked up to the door and knocked on it as gently as he possibly could with the back of his hand.

“State your business,” that all too familiar voice said from the other side.

“We just… have a quick question for you, that’s all,” Will said.

“Ah…then come on in. No need to be so shy.”

Will had a feeling that there was most certainly a reason for him to be shy, but nevertheless, he cautiously opened the door. Louis was sitting at the desk, with the same carefree temperament as prior when he asked Will to slit his arm. It was bone-chilling to be in the presence of a man so indifferent to murder, self-injury, anything of the morbid sort. Either Louis was terrifyingly good at maintaining such a façade or there truly was no care in his heart.

“I uh, just have a question. I promise to not take up too much of your time,” Will said, shutting the door behind him gently.

“Then speak. Take up as much time as you need,” Louis said.

“…Do you have anywhere for us to sleep tonight?” Gallica asked, not willing to wait on Will.

“Ah, that. There are a few unoccupied quarters within the gauntlet runner. Feel free to make yourself at home in one, for the time being.”

“That’s it? There’s no catch?” Will asked, a bit suspicious of his offer.

“Of course not. Everyone gets their own rooms to sleep in through the night. Though, I feel most regretful that I am unable to provide a most honored guest of mine with something more suitable.

“Unless, of course, I personally offer you my own bedroom,” Louis said with a laugh.

Will and Gallica exchanged unamused glances with each other.

“T’was merely a jest. Though my bed has room for two and even three, I believe that you would find it unwise to stay so close to someone who had just relentlessly spilled blood within a day of your arrival,” he clarified.

“You got that right,” Gallica said before Will could jump in with an unwise comment of uncertainty.

“In any case, make yourself at home. A few short days remain before we touchdown at Port Brilehaven.”

A few long days, he meant.

“Thanks,” Will said. “Sorry for taking up your time for something so trivial.”

“Worry not. Do feel free to visit again if you have further inquiries.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Will said.

“But not right now,” Gallica said, rushing him out the door and closing it with such haste that his clothes almost got caught.

At least the room that they were provided with was of a comfortable size. It was enough for a bed, a desk, and a young man and a fairy to move around without crashing into each other. Most likely, it wasn’t intended for anything other than resting and dealing with the occasional written report, but Will felt it to be comfortable enough for now. The lack of a spacious, private area would only act as a driving factor for Will to further familiarize himself with Louis’s ranks.

The walls were sturdy and eavesdroppers seemed to be of minimal concern, but Will and Gallica lacked the energy for any real sort of planning for the night. One day had proven be enough to deprive them of their energy. And as much as they wanted to expedite the process of assassinating Louis, what good would rushing out a plan do? It was a most delicate operation and each step must be taken with utmost care, especially if Louis had been planning on ensnaring them in a trap all along.

Will laid down on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable for something likely intended for lower-ranking soldiers. Gallica curled up beside the pillow with room to spare, and the two of them were asleep within minutes. Neither of them exchanged a single word upon collapsing onto the bed, but the understanding was mutual that they were both exhausted.

All events of the first day considered, the coming few days were relatively tame. Will set aside all hopes of killing Louis for the time being and instead focused on integrating himself fully into the army. Learning the layout of the runner, inquiring about the usual rounds of the soldiers, and so on all seemed like relatively normal practices for the newly recruited, but in the long run, the information that they could scout out early on would prove to be most valuable. In short, the plan for the time being was to “act normal,” as one may call it. The few brief moments Will did cross paths Louis, instinct told him to take cover, but he surprised his gut feeling and kept his head up high. After all, that was his leader. No reason to fear a leader that loved his soldiers so dearly.

The days on the airborne gauntlet runner were short but felt far too long. Somehow at the same time, Will and Gallica were running out of days but had the leniency to wait as they pleased. But regardless of what the truth of reality may equate to, the ticking of the clock waited for no man.

Time marches on, and the age of a new king draws near.

[scarletwritesshit]

🕊️ Gopher Wood & Sunday 🕊️ Fall From Grace

He held the little charmony dove in his hands.

"Do you think it’s ready to fly?" Sunday inquired.

"That is your judgement to make," Gopher Wood said, shaking his head.

The little bird appeared to be fine enough. Its eyes were bright and looked up to the stars, anticipating the freedom that lay before it. No bird has ever desired to remain grounded, so Sunday took this as a sign that it was ready to return to the skies and once again fly freely. He opened the window and looked back once more at Gopher Wood seeking his approval, but he merely stood there silently with his hands held behind his back.

Sunday reached his hand out, gently tossing the dove into the air to give it an extra boost. It frantically flapped its wings as it drifted towards the ground, but it did not have the strength to take flight as it came crashing down.

Upon impact, the bird chirped pathetically in pain, rendered immobile and unable to stand.

"...It didn’t fly..." Sunday said, looking down at the struggling bird.

"It did," Gopher Wood said.

"Huh?"

"Falling is just another name for flying," he said, putting his hand on Sunday’s shoulder.

"But the dove screeches in pain. Did I misjudge it? Should I not have attempted to let it fly again?"

"It is to be expected. All living things must crash to their lowest before taking flight again."

"So when do you think the little dove will fly again? I’ve been trying really hard to help it out, but nothing seems to be working."

"Again, that is your judgement to make. Do you try endlessly to help the dove fly, to no avail, or do you allow it to live a life of comfort in your own home, without it ever having to spread its wings again?"

Sunday thought about his answer for a moment.

"It’s better to let it live its life in comfort, right?"

Gopher Wood smiled. "You would be correct."

"But then, why does the little dove want to fly so bad?"

"It’s only natural to desire the perfect reality that we think is out of reach. You need to show it that it can have a much better, comfortable life, should it allow for you to tend to all of its needs."

The dove was still screeching in pain, albeit weakly from exhaustion.

"So, in the end, there’s no need to fly?"

"Correct. Trying to do so only creates more anguish."

Sunday looked down at the struggling dove with a sense of guilt. "But I want to try and take flight myself anyways. When will I get to try?"

"If you are destined to take flight, then it should be clear to you soon enough," Gopher Wood said, turning his back to Sunday and walking away.

After anxiously scanning the area and deciding that the coast was clear, Sunday went outdoors and retrieved the charmony dove. Its broken body was a limp, disheveled mess, and all hope to reach out for the stars had faded from its eyes.

Earlier, when Sunday held the dove in his hands, it was so lively and hopeful. When he lifted it up to fly free, it only came crashing down.

The dove’s life was in his hands, and he shattered its life, when he could’ve provided it with a perfect future.

Was it too late to save the dove now? Would the dove even want to live under control of the one who caused such anguish in the first place? Even if it had everything it could truly want or need handed to it on a silver platter, was that any way to live?

It mattered not. The dove’s body went cold as Sunday held it in his hand.

Another failure.

When Gopher Wood asked Sunday what became of the dove, he had no choice but to answer truthfully as he presented him with its broken corpse. As expected, Gopher Wood responded with immense displeasure. Despite knowing in his heart what was best, Sunday defied those ideals and tried to free the dove anyways, only to be the cause of its downfall.

In his conscious, he thought that he was doing the right thing, but there was a difference between what he thought was right, and what is right.

This time, he was in the wrong to follow his thoughts. The piercing glare from Gopher Wood only confirmed this. And in doing so, it costed an innocent life.

"I’m sorry," Sunday said with surprising ease, as such words had become habitual.

Gopher Wood didn’t bother to pay the young halovian any mind.

"...Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"The right thing," Gopher Wood said, scoffing.

"What’s that? What do you want me to do?"

"I taught you time and again. The answer should be clear to you."

The answer was to care for the bird’s every need so that it no longer had to strain itself to fly. Given that the bird had passed, it was not something that Sunday could go back and fix. He would have to wait for the opportunity to demonstrate to Gopher Wood that he had learned from his mistakes, whenever that may be.

For the time being, he would have to deal with his father turning his nose up at everything he did, at least until he could win back his favor.

This was a lesson worth recording in his journal.

It was rather difficult for Sunday to turn the pages. A seemingly simple task, but the soreness of his wrists and arms made it to be quite a challenge. As he turned the pages looking for enough free space to record his thoughts, his eyes glazed over some of the notes he had taken in the past.

Forgive those who make mistakes…

Not everyone is born equal…

Be the leader you are destined to be…

Simple lessons from his father dictating the path of Order filled his notebook. But every time he glanced at the words, he felt the shaking in his body intensify. It was just from the pain of his bleeding arms, he told himself. Nothing that was ultimately shocking.

He had finally found some free space after a few minutes of slowly trying to flip through the book, and as his hands shook, he began writing.

Today I tried to free the dove that I have been taking care of for the past few days. It looked strong and ready to fly, so I decided to release it. But then...

His eyes had grown watery. It was difficult to see what he was writing, but he blinked away the tears and forced himself to continue.

...it fell to the ground, letting out a horrific cry of pain before dying in my hands.

His tears were smudging the ink, and the blood from his wrists dried on the edges of the paper.

It should have taken flight. But it didn’t. And I killed it by letting it regain free will. Gopher Wood was right. I should have kept it in the comfort of my room so that it could live in peace.

After he put down the pen, Sunday glanced at his own wings. He shakily held out one of the black wings that he normally kept tucked into his torso and studied the clean cut along his feathers.

“…Will I ever be able to fly?” he quietly asked himself, choking on his tears.

Later into the evening, Gopher Wood nonchalantly walked past a sleeping Sunday, who had long since collapsed onto his desk. His notebook laid open and the pen drooped in his hand, seeming as if he gave up on himself after finishing the last of his notes. On the norm, Gopher Wood did not care about Sunday enough to pry into his personal matters. With Sunday’s notebook being left wide open and him being fast asleep, he couldn’t help but shoot a nosy glance at what was written.

Diluted by tears and stained with blood, presumably the last thing Sunday wrote before falling asleep was:

Atone for your sins.

With a pleased smile, Gopher Wood walked away, leaving the passed-out halovian boy undisturbed.

[scarletwritesshit]

🪦And Then There Were Two 🪦 TTM Zine

Written for @ttmzine.

Akihiko sat down in the grass right next to where Shinjiro was resting.

"It’s been pretty damn rough for us, hasn’t it, Shinji? Felt like we could never catch a break there for a while. I think now, though, I can finally say that it’s over," Akihiko said.

Not like he was expecting Shinjiro to reply at all.

"We can relax. After all of these years, we can finally relax."

Shinjiro had as few words as ever to exchange with Akihiko. The silence from him this time, however, was different. It was eerie. It was heartbreaking.

"We won, Shinji."

Akihiko leaned his head against Shinjiro’s headstone. He didn’t, no, he couldn’t respond, but Akihiko swore that he could still hear Shinjiro scoffing at him.

Tch. I knew we could do it.

Akihiko still couldn’t help but feel like Shinjiro had yet to truly depart from this world, despite his body now resting six feet under beside him. Shinjiro was practically counting on his inevitable death, even after rejoining S.E.E.S. It was a fact that he was quite stubborn about. But not stubborn enough to slack off with the growing presence of the shadows becoming a greater and greater risk to his friends. And he was especially too stubborn to let a fatal shot to the chest deter him from babysitting Akihiko.

His pigheaded demeanor was why Akihiko was convinced that Shinjiro was still with them, one way or another. He had to be listening to Akihiko right at this very moment as he was trying to stop himself from shedding any tears. He banged his fist on edge of Shinjiro’s headstone, which was unwise given that he was still recovering from his neglected injuries that had accumulated during the end of January.

You absolute dumbass.

Perhaps the pain medication was causing him to hear things. Or maybe he hadn’t taken quite enough. Regardless, that gruff voice of disappointment from Shinjiro wasn’t leaving Akihiko’s mind any time soon. If he really was here, Shinjiro would be mocking Akihiko for his little bouts of stupidity.

And he kind of missed that.

"Knocking on his grave won’t wake him up, Akihiko."

Clenching his bandaged fist in pain, Akihiko looked up to see Mitsuru walking towards him and Shinjiro’s grave. He couldn’t tell, but Mitsuru appeared to be carrying some kind of faded gold object in her hand.

"It’s worth a shot with that bastard," he said, forcing himself to stand up. "What brings you here?"

"The same reason as you. To give our friend the goodbye he deserves," Mitsuru said.

First, Akihiko lost his sister when he was incredibly young. Now, he had to deal with the lingering pain of both an old and a new friend passing on all too soon. Initially, Akihiko managed to force himself to press on. All of his grief was channeled into cutting down shadow after shadow. Now that the dust had finally settled, he couldn’t repress it anymore, and Mitsuru could see it.

"Akihiko, you don’t have to hold back your tears," Mitsuru said. "There’s no use in doing so."

"Shinji wouldn’t want that!" he said, once again knocking the headstone with disregard for his injured hand.

"Shinjiro wouldn’t want to see his friends in pain, either. I believe that we have fought more than hard enough to justify such feelings."

"Pity won’t get us anywhere" Akihiko said, wiping away the tears that were leaking out, "…I’m surprised to not see Ken with you today."

"Every day after coming home from school, he’s exhausted as his energy hasn’t full recuperated quite yet. Fighting the incarnation of Death took more out of him than he’s willing to admit. He is only eleven, after all, and he isn’t the unstoppable superhero that every boy his age thinks he is."

"Understandable. Even I haven’t exactly recovered and it’s been over three months since we fought Nyx."

"Which is why you should take it easy and not repeatedly knock on Shinjiro’s grave."

"Don’t act like you’re completely okay yourself."

"Ha, a rare moment of something that both of you would agree upon. It’s like he’s still here with us."

The two of them went dead silent for a few minutes. The smile that was on Mitsuru’s face quickly dissipated, and Akihiko clenched his fist.

"It’s just not the same without him," Akihiko said.

"It really isn’t," Mitsuru said, sitting down on the side of Shinji’s headstone opposite of where Akihiko was. "I wish he could’ve been with us to see things through to the end, at the very least."

"Or maybe he lucked out being spared from the heartbreak of losing Kotone. But he will never actually know that we won."

"That’s not entirely true," Mitsuru said, "he’s right between us, isn’t he?"

Akihiko looked down to his side. "I guess so, in a way."

"Which is why I’m here. To tell him everything, as if he were still with us, so that he may finally have closure and rest peacefully once and for all."

"He deserves to know that Nyx has been bested, at the very least. Hopefully sealed away and gone for good, along with the core source of our problems.”

"Not to mention, Takaya most likely died in the collapse of Tartarus as well,” Mitsuru added. “Dead or not, he suffered the downfall that he deserved for taking Shinji’s life."

"I wonder how he would feel about Jin dying. Probably call him some kind of coward considering the way he chose to go out."

"Can’t say for sure. He would probably be just another dead rat in the road to him."

"A good riddance, if anything," Akihiko said. “Probably spit at him for choosing to put an end to his own life.”

“Then again, Jin didn’t have much of a chance with how long he had been taking the Persona suppressors, so what would’ve been the point in him agonizingly dragging his life out?”

“Shinjiro felt the same about his own life too, you know.”

“Perhaps so,” Mitsuru said, gazing off towards the cemetery laid out before her. “They were alike in similar ways; same bodily deterioration, same unfortunate fate."

“Now, don’t go comparing those two, otherwise Shinjiro would scold both of us from beyond the grave,” Akihiko said with a saddened laugh.

“As much as I would love to see him again, that is certainly one encounter I would choose to avoid if we can.”

Akihiko nodded his head in agreement. “Thankfully, such encounters are nothing more than a farfetched fantasy. Then again, I say that after meeting Ryoji.”

“Can he really be any stranger than the concept of shadows and Personas? He was merely Death itself sealed inside of Kotone by Aigis,” Mitsuru said, abruptly going silent to think about just how truly absurd the words she was speaking sounded.

“It sounds absolutely wild, Shinji, but it’s true. You never did find out about Ryoji’s existence, did you? He was the embodiment of Death living inside of Kotone for an entire decade, until it was kind of our fault he reemerged in the end. But think about how ridiculous it sounds, Kotone had to carry that thing around like she was Death’s surrogate mother!” Akihiko said with a laugh.

“Shinjiro would absolutely knock you upside the head for that comment,” Mitsuru said, giving Akihiko a light pat on his shoulder. “But when you put it that way, it does sort of make sense.”

“Are you sure you haven’t accidentally taken my painkillers, by chance? Its one thing for me to say it, but you agreeing with me is a whole new level of…of pure absurdity!”

“Akihiko, you have to admit, it is nice for us to laugh over something silly like this like the old days.”

“Except I don’t think Shinji is laughing. I can hear him sighing and looking at us with his typical disgruntled frown. ‘Physical embodiments of Death? Inside of my friend? What the hell kind of nonsense are you guys even talking about?’”

“He would,” Mitsuru said, “…he absolutely would.”

Akihiko and Mitsuru fell completely silent once more. It finally began to sink in that Shinjiro missed out on far more than saving the world from Nyx and the shadows. The precious little moments in between their Dark Hour expeditions were very short lived for him. He hardly ever had the chance to walk Koromaru, who had practically become a son to him during the short time he lived at the S.E.E.S. dormitory. The trio never did make it back to the ramen shop for lunch like their middle school days.

No more laughing at Aigis’s nonsense together. No more cooking meals for S.E.E.S. It all slipped away from Shinjiro in an instant, in the same way his life slipped away from his friends.

“Mitsuru, did he ever actually make a formal decision in regards to coming back to school?” Akihiko asked.

Mitsuru shook her head. “He didn’t. He was gone long enough for most of our classmates to remember him as a back-alley thug, if they even recalled his presence at all. Shinjiro’s memory lives among the students as nothing more than some unruly delinquent, rather than a fellow student that had fallen on unfortunate times.”

“At least he had friends to remember him as a human, and not alley trash left to the wind,” Akihiko said with a sigh. “With classmates like that, would he have even wanted to go on that trip with us?”

“Probably not,” Mitsuru said, looking at his headstone. “Shinji, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you wouldn’t have wanted to come anyways. You would’ve spent the majority of the trip huffing and sighing in a corner away from everyone.

“I guarantee it would’ve taken him the remainder of the school year to pry him away from Koromaru, making up some kind of excuse like, ‘someone has to keep the dog out of trouble for the week.’”

“That reminds me, Akihiko. How has Koromaru been fairing?”

“Wish I could say he has been doing better than me, but there’s been days where I’ve seen him laying down in the kitchen looking up at the counter and whining.”

“Shinjiro did feed Koromaru a lot, even if he did try to hide it.”

“And he never did a good job of hiding it either. I always knew he liked dogs and the like, anyways. When we were kids, he was completely obsessed with the idea of owning his own pet one day. Specifically a dog. Not to mention, he always cried when the dog died in the movie and I would make fun of him for it. Even as we got older, he could not hold back the painfully obvious tears flowing down his face at even merely the sight of a dog getting injured.”

“Koromaru joining the team must’ve been a dream come true for him then,” Mitsuru said with a little laugh.

“Absolutely,” Akihiko said, “he would never admit it, but he loved Koromaru to death. I feel so bad for that boy, as he had lost not one, but three loving guardians.”

“Ken’s been taking care of him from what I’ve heard.”

“It’s what Shinji would’ve wanted. He wants both Koro-chan and the kid to have a better life than what he had, even after everything Ken had attempted back in October. He was too stubborn to show it, but Shinjiro really was a good man.”

“He would also want me to get straight to the point,” Mitsuru said, standing up, “as I still have yet to fulfill the one reason why I have come here.”

"Are you leaving soon? If so, I’m going to stay with him just a little while longer, but I do have one question before you go, Mitsuru."

"Hm?"

"What’s that that you bought with you?"

"Oh, this?" Mitsuru said, holding the golden object in her hand. "It’s a pocket watch."

"A... pocket watch?"

"It belonged to Shinjiro. Kotone found it at the police station and asked me to make sure that it made it back to him safely. She was far too exhausted to bring it back to him herself, so I agreed to be the one to return it to its rightful owner."

Mitsuru kneeled down and placed the pocket watch atop Shinjiro’s grave. It shined dully in the afternoon sunlight, and its surface was covered in scratches from age. For a pocket watch lost from a then homeless man, it was still in surprisingly good shape. As he observed it, Akihiko couldn’t help but feel like he wished Kotone found the watch and returned it to Shinjiro sooner. Maybe things could’ve been different, like the butterfly effect leading to the survival of his longtime best friend.

Would it even have made any difference in the end?

[scarletwritesshit]

Louis Guiabern x Will🐍One Last Dance

🐍 V. And we know that for those who love the Count all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

"…A fellow king?" Will asked, tilting his head. "What do you mean by that?"

"In due time, the answer will be clear to you,” Louis said, sliding his hand off of Will’s shoulder. "But for now, our destination is what you should prioritize."

"Where are we going?"

Louis gazed out into the distance. From where Will was standing, all he could see were more hills and trees.

"Port Brilehaven. A most lovely stop for prestigious nobles, I’d say."

"Isn’t that the next stop of the race for the crown? I thought that you weren’t participating."

"I am not. I cannot be bothered with some frivolous nonsense."

"Yet you still want to be king?"

"The outcome of the race has no real bearing on who ascends to the throne. In the end, it’s the favorability of the people that determines who becomes king. As you know, I have yet to lift a finger, yet the support for me is overwhelming."

He unfortunately had a point that the amount of support he had was frighteningly overwhelming. All it would take for him to claim the spot of number one was one well executed move. Or one well timed assassination.

"Then, why are you heading to the port?"

"For nothing more than a bit of relaxation. A most grand soiree, to keep everyone’s mind off of the recent happenings."

"And to gain some more favor with the people, I bet."

Louis smiled and laughed. "You catch on quickly. But for the time being, we have yet to even touchdown, so preparations this early for something even on a grand scale would be rather pointless."

"So you uh, don’t need me for anything?"

"Nonsense! You’re an accomplice, not a housekeeper. Take this time to get to know your fellow compatriots."

"...Wont they spit on some stray elda aboard their ship?"

"Basilio and Fidelio have that taken care of. And if one of them so as much dares to look at you wrong, do not hesitate to give me the word."

Louis left Will’s side and departed with one final wave, presumably to return to his quarters. Will watched Louis carefully until he was out of sight, but instead of taking any sort of action, he stood around unsure of where to go next.

"That guy's got it bad for you," Gallica teased.

"W-what? You think so?" Will stammered, his face flushing.

"With the way he acts, it’s sort of hard to not think that. But don’t tell me that you-"

"I don’t! I wasn’t prepared for this kind of attention, that’s all!"

"I was joking, but for some reason, I feel like you aren’t."

"Never mind that. If we’re going to be stuck here, might as well try to get something good out of it."

"Leech him dry of his resources while he’s so enthusiastic about having you on board. I like the way you think."

Putting it that way, Will almost felt bad for exploiting such free reign. If Louis was the one playing foul, wouldn’t Will be no better?

Why should he care? Louis was offering up run of the gauntlet runner to him on a silver platter.

Before he could think about doing anything outrageous, he should first familiarize himself with the gauntlet runner and its occupants. It would do him some good to make himself be known as something other than “that elda the boss likes for some reason.” Maybe then, his presence would begin to feel more natural for both him and the other soldiers. And that’s when his window of opportunity would open up.

He wandered around aimlessly attempting to find an area of respite. Most of the guards were on duty, or at least acting like such in order to do as little work as possible.

"Maybe we should ask one of them for directions?" Gallica suggested after a while.

Will looked at one of the guards, then back at Gallica.

"You really think they’re going to respond to me?" Will asked.

"Well, if your Louis's new favorite little elda boytoy that he’s telling the run of the gauntlet runner about, then I would assume so."

“Only one way to find out,” Will said, walking up to one of the guards.

The man didn’t move nor did he respond to Will’s approach. It was a good sign that even if he wasn’t openly welcomed; at least he wasn’t shooed away on sight. What were they going to do to him? Throw him off of an airborne gauntlet runner?

Oh right. These were Louis’s troops. That wouldn’t be entirely out of character for them to do so.

“…Excuse me?” Will said, for lack of a better conversation starter.

The guard didn’t budge an inch, but Will could only assume that he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see who was speaking to him.

“You’re the new one here, aren’t you?” the guard asked.

“Did Louis at least make you aware that I was coming on board?” Will asked.

“All he told me was that he bought a little elda boy on board and to not skewer him on sight. Safe to assume that that’s you, because where else are you going to find the likes of you in this day and age?”

“Unless there’s a secret second elda that he slipped aboard, I do believe that he’s talking about me.”

“A witty one. No wonder why the boss has taken quite the fancy to you. Somewhere you’re looking for?”

That’s the thing. Will didn’t know what he was looking for.  He knew that he was looking for some manner of undoing the curse on the prince, or a way to slip by the king’s magic and assassinate Louis, but as for what he was doing in the present moment was still a mystery even to him. Gallica didn’t seem to have thought that far herself.

Will’s stomach answered that debate for him.

“The mess hall, I presume?” the soldier asked.

“Y-yeah.”

“Shoulda just said that. Not surprised you’d be starving especially after dealing with the handful that the boss can be,” the soldier said, pointing to a door. “Through there. It’s not easy to miss.”

“Much obliged,” Will said, waving as he and Gallica started towards the door.

“No need for thanks,’ the soldier said, “…especially if you really are the boss’s new plaything.”

The mess hall was somehow both what he expected and absolutely nothing like he envisioned. Soldiers gathered around to eat and chat, though lively, was somehow kept rather clean for what it was. And the food itself didn’t look half bad as well. No surprise that someone who could afford a fortress on wings could also have rather appealing food for all of his troops as well.

There seemed to be a line for food, so Will simply followed the others who were still waiting and waited alongside them. At least, he hoped he was doing things properly. Being in the personal gauntlet runner of a tyrant he was aiming to kill had him questioning every single movement of his, down to if he was standing properly. Much to his pleasant surprise, he was able to get himself a hefty serving hassle free.

The soldiers around him were probably thinking something along the lines of, “oh, it’s that damn elda boy the boss bought on board,” if he was going off of what the one guard said to him as he was seeking directions. They have been awfully quiet, and it felt a little too easy being able to simply be able to walk around without being turned away. Perhaps these people were of a much higher standing, and they had far more self-respect than to blatantly harass someone simply because of their birth. It was a hint of genuine proof towards the ideal future that Louis had been working quite hard to promote as part of his campaign.

Maybe there was a strange truth to his words after all?

No, there was still plenty of room to doubt a man who slew people for fun. Besides, how much could be gathered from a room full of hungry soldiers on their down time anyways?

“You there! The lil’ elda kid!” one of the soldiers shouted.

“Huh? Me?” Will asked, being snapped out of his daydream.

“Ya see any others like you lot around? You look a lil’ lost! Come sit with us! I promise we don’t bite!”

Will looked at Gallica for a second seeking out her silent approval. However, she seemed rather indifferent, and shrugged her arms. It would be rather rude to decline their offer at this rate, so Will sat down on the side opposite of two seemingly joyous soldiers.

“So you’re the new one among the count’s ranks, eh?” the soldier asked, sloshing around a cup of what Will could only assume was alcohol.

“Careful,” Gallica advised, “who knows how rowdy drunken soldiers could get.”

Will glanced at her briefly and nodded his head. “What gave that away?”

“Oh, I dunno. Your lack of armor? The fact that we ain’t got no elda for as far as the eye can see?”

“It is certainly…an interesting twist to see an elda being welcomed by Louis himself so openly, but I guess he’s serious about this whole ‘uniting the tribes’ thing,” the other soldier said, leisurely eating away at his food.

“It’s kinda bullshit,” the apparent drunkard said, “Spend my whole life bustin’ my ass for a chance for having him even bother to look in my direction, and he just picks up this little elda brat for shits n’ giggles.”

“In all truth and fairness, we don’t have any elda on board. Can’t act like you want to unite the tribes if you don’t got all of the tribes to unite.”

“Doesn’t that bastard value skill and usefulness above all else? Most that little brat has is pretty privilege. It’s a wee bit hypocritical if ya ask me.”

“He does seem to take unconventional measures sometimes. Besides, you did mention usefulness. Maybe this kid has some sort of other value to him?”

“Oh, and I don’t? The one that goes out to slaughter things on the front lines for him? Bullshit!”

“You…do realize we can still hear you, right?” Gallica said.

“I can’t even begin to guess with that bastard. You could go up and ask him for all I’d care, but he would probably give you some nasty ass laugh and shoo you away saying that the lesser have no business with such.

“I think that’s a no,” Will said, in response to Gallica.

His earlier theory had practically been disproven, at the very least. One less excuse to show empathy for his target, thankfully. Once the soldiers got started on their complaints regarding Louis and his leadership, they seemed to show no remorse for their words. Will couldn’t tell if that was how they truly felt, or it was just the alcohol distorting their thoughts about the count.

Some complaints felt directed more towards Will. Others seemed to be more open complaints about the Louis. Not like he could do anything about them regardless.

Will did continue to simply try and eat his food as he listened to the two soldiers run their mouths. As the drunkard went on and on, he couldn’t help but feel like his complaints were becoming increasingly directed towards Will.

“Oh, we work our asses off for years to try and hold some form of respectable position within that bastard’s ranks, but he picks up this little blue thing and decides THAT’S what he wants to dolt on?”

Just keep chewing your food like you don’t hear anything, Will thought.

“How many kills you got in the name of the count? None! I got plenty under my belt and I’m lumped in as as the same as everyone else!”

He doesn’t know about the countless monsters I’ve slain or the dragon I drove off. Probably best right now. Will thought, continuing to chew his food.

“Oh, I’ll get another kill for him right here and now!” the agitated, drunken soldier shouted as he stood up. “I’ll take out this piece of shit rat he left scurrying around!”

You’re gonna kill yourself? Will thought.

Trembling from the intoxication, the soldier unsheathed his blade with eyes focused on Will. Quietly chewing and vaguely listening to his troubles no longer was an effective means of keeping Will out of trouble. With a mouthful of food, he froze chewing, eyes wide and focused on the blade being clumsily raised above him. The soldier was about to shout his victory cry, but his attention was focused elsewhere behind Will for only a split second before he froze completely and dropped his sword.

Will could see a shadow looming from behind, but he had no interest in turning around to confirm who it was. He almost didn’t have to, as who else could enact such fear into a soldier so quickly?

“Mind repeating some of your kind words? I seem to have missed them,” Louis said.

“…S-Sir. I was just talking about you,” the intoxicated guard stuttered.

The other soldier, though partially an accomplice in this, leaned away to the side to disassociate himself from his supposed pal. So much for the concept of loyalty.

Louis leaned down just close enough as to where Will could see him out of the corner of his eye.

“Now, didn’t I tell you to not hesitate to call me if things go awry?” he said.

Will swallowed the half-chewed bite of food in his mouth that he had forgotten about.

“No need to be so nervous,” Louis said, smiling as gently as a snake could manage. “We are allies, are we not?”

“Y-yeah, we are,” Will said, despite the looming mission of having to kill Louis himself.

The count invited himself to inch closer, resting his head on Will’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his small body. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the fear-struck soldier, as if he were a wolf protecting his freshly caught kill. Though Will was appreciative of his efforts to drive off the man that would have decapitated him if he were a moment too late, he can’t help but feel as if this was a little bit overboard.

“You want to take a strike at our beloved elda comrade?” Louis tempted.

Our? You mean your…Will thought.

The soldier shook his head and backed off.

“Precisely what I thought. Wouldn’t want such a pretty face to be ravaged by uncouth blood like your own,” Louis said, leaning closer into Will.

With the strangest tinge of sincerity in every whisper of sweet nothings, Will wondered if his words were twisted in such a faction to circumvent the skeletons he hid in his closet. But they were said with such truthfulness, and that was no touch of a man who was a mere liar and nothing more.

“There is no need to fear any longer, for I shall assure you that he will no longer cause you any inconvenience.”

Will blinked his eyes a few times as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Seconds away from getting his head sliced off from just minding his own business, and now the man he was driven to kill had his neck mere inches away from his hand. Most tempting to draw blood from, if the king’s magic were not at play.

The two supposed mortal enemies disregarded their theoretical hate for each other, as Louis glared at the drunken soldier with a ravenous smile. He hardly seemed insulted in any way. In fact, it was almost as if a treacherous idea came into his mind.

“You despise me that much, no?” Louis asked.

The soldier went wide eyed with fear.

“Then I shall do you a favor, and remove you from my ranks swiftly and promptly.”

Louis released Will from his hold and stepped up onto the chair, lunging forward at the soldier with such blinding speed. The sound of his blade being drawn cut through Will’s ears, but he could not see what was happening in front of him, for Louis’s cape shielded his eyes from the panicked soldier.

Though Will could not directly see what was unfolding in front of him, he still had some field of vision around the sides of his cape. Out of the corner of the eye, he saw the “accomplice” of the soldier falling off of his chair in utter terror and shock. And for a good reason too. Louis swiftly slashed his blade to the side, drenching those unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire in blood.

[scarletwritesshit]

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[scarletwritesshit]

Louis Guiabern x Will🐍One Last Dance

🐍 IV. Do not be deceived: 'Evil company corrupts good habits.'

The sweet words of the devil’s temptation were all too enticing to Will, and Louis appeared quite proud of seemingly influencing him in such a way. All Will had to do was simply play along, nodding his head and enthusiastically agreeing to play by the count’s rules for the time being. As long as he did not allow himself to fall down the same patch of treachery, he would be fine.

Temptation was a most delectable fruit, however, and it was hard to resist when presented in the form of the most luxurious gauntlet runner he had ever seen. Louis was so willing to welcome him aboard it as if it were to serve as a second home for Will, even. As long as he admired such a feast from afar and did not give into the snake whispering into his ear, his sanity would be spared.

The fruit was far too big for him to bite into anyways, as the gauntlet nunnery was akin to a fortress on wings. Will didn’t even know which direction to walk down first. Stationed at every turn, there was multiple guards of some sort, and he would have a hell of a time explain why an elda, let alone a superseded enemy, was walking freely abroad.

Ironically, he was safer alongside Louis.

"It is quite the grand sight, isn’t it?" Louis said.

"I... don’t even know where to begin," Will said as he walked alongside Louis, mouth agape at the sheer size of the interior.

"No need to rush. It will all be yours to roam freely in due time."

The whole thing? To freely roam? That was a promise that sounded absolutely too good to be true.

"But first, there are some formalities that you must tend to. Please, if you may, follow me to a more private area of the craft," Louis continued.

Will froze in place, speechless.

"Don’t worry, I do not desire to taint you in any way.

"...Yet," he said, turning away with a smirk.

Horrifying. But, Will would have to grin and bear it for the time being, and make whatever Louis’s dastardly plans were a problem for his future self.

Louis led Will to a smaller office-like space, not looking back as he retained his trust in him to stick by his side. Once they had arrived, Louis sat down at his desk, crossing one leg over the other and propping up his head with his hand. Waiting for them were the two paripus that had greeted Will and his team prior on the field.

"Basilio," he said, beckoning to the taller paripus, "if you may."

The black-furred paripus nodded his head in understanding, then proceeded to grab something off of a shelf. He presented a strange silver object to Will that appeared to be shaped like a heart with blades sticking out of the top.

"One simple request,” Louis said. “Cut yourself on this."

Will and Gallica were both, yet again, rendered speechless.

"The fairy does not have to, as I fear the damage it may cause to her small, delicate body. But you, my dear, let your blood flow along the same path as ours have to prove yourself faithful. And if your intentions are not pure of heart, then rejection will be swift and my time shall not be wasted."

Well. He’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. After studying the one of the massive blades for a moment, Will took a deep breath and rolled up his right sleeve. He held out his bare arm and positioned the blade right beneath his vein.

It was going to hurt.

He was going to make a bloody mess.

It wouldn’t matter. It was all for Count Louis.

Will held his eyes firmly shut as he braced himself to slash his arm against the blade.

He couldn’t move his body.

No matter how hard he tried to pull his arm back, he couldn’t move.

He opened his eyes and saw Louis firmly holding Will’s wrist, preventing him from moving his arm.

"…I do believe that our new recruit has more than successfully proven himself," he said.

"Damn, boss. Got yourself an enthusiastic one this time around eh?" the smaller paripus said.

"It’s almost commendable," Louis remarked, shooing away Basilio. “With my blessing, I officially consider you to be a loyal and most valued follower of mine.”

"T-thank you. I won’t disappoint," Will said, attempting to bow in respect, despite still being held firmly.

Louis allowed for Will’s wrist to slip out of his grasp, their fingers intertwining for the briefest of moments before he was free to bow down. It was if a silent pact was exchanged between them; one of an unspoken bond rather than tied with blood.

With a glimmer of light in his eyes, Louis returned his respects and said to Will, "You are dismissed. Please, feel free to explore to your heart’s content, within reason, of course."

"Explore? Just like that? You aren’t worried about me prying?"

"It is of no great concern for me, as that is why I have enacted many guards to watch in my place. Now, be off while the day is still young."

Will nodded his head and walked out of the room, looking back one last time out of uncertainty. After he had departed, the smaller paripus crossed his arms and sighed.

"You really gonna let ‘em have free reign, boss?" he asked, skeptical.

"He is a most honored guest of mine, Fidelio. The little fledgling deserves the hospitality, wouldn’t you agree?"

"Yeah, but you ain’t treat other guests like that. What’s so special about ‘em?"

"Perhaps there is a beauty in that young elda that you have yet to see," Louis said, tapping his fingers on his desk.

"His naivety, it’s almost adorable."

With all this space for Will to investigate, he wasn’t even sure where to begin. Even with the explicit permission of the count, he was still wary of overstepping boundaries so early into his time aboard. Heading straight to seek out deeply held secrets would not be a good first impression from someone who claimed to be so loyal, so revealing such curiosity would have to wait until their trust was deepened.

Was bringing Will aboard even part of a plan in the first place? Louis worked in strange ways, Will had noticed, so it was equally likely that it was an impromptu decision as it would be planned from the start. Regardless of the circumstances, he doubted that anyone would take very kindly to an elda wandering around, so he kept out of the sights of the soldiers for now.

Gallica flew down to Will’s level as he was scanning his surroundings debating his next course of action.

"What’s with you? You look lost," she said.

"I mean, I kinda am. Not too many options with all of the guards around."

"Didn’t the big boss say we practically have free reign over the place, though?"

"Do you really think that anyone here knows that this stray fairy and elda are supposed to be here?"

"I guess that’s true. You’d think that he would have this all plotted out if he was really that smart," Gallica said, rolling her eyes.

"Or maybe he didn’t bother since I’m at a roadblock anyways," Will said. "How’s your search been going?"

"Been doing about as well as you," she said, "it feels like they’ve got eyes all over the place."

"So in other words, were stuck?"

"We are absolutely stuck."

Rather than stand around looking lost, Will would be far less likely to raise suspicion if he stood around looking lost... elsewhere. Like in front of a window. Compared to traveling in Neruas’s gauntlet runner, it was actually quite awe-inspiring to look outside. The trees that would normally be passing by him at a painfully repetitive rate appeared so small from up in the sky. He could see the land stretch for miles, even catching a glimpse at other gauntlet runners.

"I can’t believe were actually flying in this thing," Gallica said, face up against the glass.

"Says the one who is always flying."

"You know what I mean! Still, I never thought we would get this kind of view... from our enemy nonetheless."

All in all, despite his apparent generosity, Will still had to keep in mind that Louis was their target, and he only joined forces with him in hopes of outsmarting the protection of the king’s magic. At the same time, all of this and perhaps much more was being practically handed out to him. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge in such a little, so as long as he kept his hands away from reaching out for what was forbidden.

"It’s quite the lovely sight, isn’t it?"

He turned around to see Louis approaching him. He didn’t bother to spare Will a second glance as he stood beside him and looked out the window himself.

"The world looks so small when seen from above. To think that soon, all of this will be ours."

"Ours? Don’t you mean yours?"

"Just as a king needs his queen, an angel needs his wings," Louis said, tapping his fingers along the back of Will’s shoulders. "Do you really believe that I am meant to do this alone?"

With every tap of his fingers, the nerves in Will’s body shuddered. The cloth of Will’s coat and the satin of Louis's gloves served as barriers shielding each other from skin contact, yet to Will, his touch felt a bit too intimate nonetheless. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Louis staring him down with a rather pleased smile. He had no intention of submitting to him so easily, yet his legs were feeling weak and his heart rate was rising. Was this Louis’s strange idea of a test, to see if he could tolerate his presence? His demeanor was most peculiar, as Will couldn’t quite read the mixed signals he was giving off.

"Tell me," he continued, "do you think change happened by the hand of a single man?"

"No," Will said. That’s why I have my friends.

"Do you believe I can change the ways of the Sanctists with a following comprised solely of the like?"

Will shook his head.

"Precisely. I caught wind of an elda running in the race, and while not directly participating in it myself, I was most delighted that there was truth to such rumors."

"Even as the count, you still don’t see much of us around, I guess?"

"Not particularly. A shame. The elda are such a beautiful tribe. But you...you have to be the most stunning young man I’ve ever met."

"Stunning?" Will and Gallica asked, both equally confused.

"I must have the devil’s own luck to have someone with your radiance accompanying me to the throne," he said, sliding his hand down his arm and taking hold of Will’s hand.

"You’re acting like you’ve never seen an elda before," Will said.

"An elda he hasn’t killed," Gallica said under her breath.

Will swatted at Gallica, for as true as her words may be, they had to show at least some courtesy to the count. Louis smiled and glanced at them both, as if he heard her but ultimately chose to not respond. One may argue that he found humor in her words, despite the blatant shade being thrown at him. Nevertheless, he continued to gaze out the window at the passing scenery below them.

Will didn’t comment further, and instead turned to once more gaze out the window with Louis. It took him longer than he would like to admit to realize that their hands were still touching, and Will attempted to gently and subtlety pull his hand away. He was free from the devil’s grasp, even if was only for a fleeting moment. Louis put his hand on Will’s shoulder, retaining his hold on the young elda.

"What hasn’t been seen by anyone is an elda standing alongside a clemar... let alone holding such power.”

"You’re confident that the people will be fine with that?”

"The people will be more than happy to abide by such a declaration."

"Even an elda subordinate?"

"A mere subordinate, yes. But think about it, you could have even more if you held a position on the throne."

The irony here was that Will was trying to take the throne, at least until the prince recovered. For god knows what reason, Louis was tempting Will into pushing even hard for the throne, despite clearly being adamant about having it for himself. What went on in his sick and twisted mind, Will couldn’t even begin to fathom. He could be pushing him to the throne so that he could kill him right then and there. That bastard sure loved a spectacle.

"Aren’t you trying to get the throne all for yourself?" Will asked, genuinely confused.

"None of my plans for such has changed. It was merely a proposition for you to rule alongside me."

"...Alongside you? Within your ranks, or something?"

Louis shook his head. "As a fellow king, of course."

[scarletwritesshit]

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[scarletwritesshit]

🌅Louis Guiabern x Will🌅Mourning Star

The first request from the new king was a rather personal one.

It was to be somewhat expected. It was more of the nature of the request that bought a great deal of shock to his close friends.

"I wish to erect a grave for Louis."

Their surprise was warranted, as why would anybody in their right mind want to memorialize a tyrant?

Will had no desire to make a public spectacle of such. His argument was that Louis merely needed a final resting space so that his soul could, at long last, be at peace. Something about superstition and vengeful spirits, he added on. When his argument was presented as such, it did seem like sound advice after all.

Although a bit apprehensive, they agreed to fulfill his request, and opted to give Louis a small memorial in a long-neglected area of the courtyard. It was not an appealing sight before or after the landscaping, or lack thereof. Basilio and Hulkenberg simply did the bare minimum to clear out just enough space to raise the headstone. Strohl completely refused to participate in such labor, though it was a choice that Will respected nonetheless.

His reasoning behind desiring such a memorial wasn’t a complete lie. Louis did ultimately deserve to find peace after living with such a shattered soul for so long. The complete and true reasoning behind Will’s request was not something he could openly disclose to anyone, not even to his closest knight. It was a secret he would take to the grave, only to share with the one he desired to rest by most.

While fated to walk upon conflicting paths, their intimate meetings were few and far in between. Perhaps it was for the best, given the great imbalance of power present between the two. As ill-advised as it was, Will had allowed himself to be captivated by the smooth-talking and pleas of allegiance of Louis. And on the nights when rumors would fly lightly of the crossing of their paths, Will almost never failed to disappear without a trace.

Many have agreed that he was simply scouting out his sworn enemy, collecting intel and strengthening his plan of attack. However, what truly unfolded behind closed doors remained a close kept secret between Louis and Will.

Running off as per usual, Will spent the afternoon clearing away the weeds and overgrowth that had accumulated in the garden. It was a task better suited to those beneath him, but specifically asking for Louis's grave to be tended to would raise a number of questions. It was far easier for Will to tend to the weeds himself. This memorial in which he tended to served no other purpose other than to act as a mere pillar recording Louis’s existence.  Not even a fragment of his skeleton or a chip of his armor was recovered in the aftermath, as the Prince sliced his body into stardust. One last reminder of Louis Will still had in his possession was his blade that he had recovered upon the star they fought upon.

Even against the Destroyer Charadrius, it felt all to cruel to turn his own blade against him. Now that Louis was nothing more than a fleeting memory, Will refused to raise it even against a stray human. He kept the blade by his side, and would claim that its purpose was simply a flashy trophy. In reality, it was all that he had left of Louis. As much as he wanted to keep the blade glued to his side, there was no sense of a king carrying a blade that would never see combat, so Will figured it was best to allow the final trace of Louis to truly rest in peace.

The grass throughout the courtyard was too far gone to be salvaged. With a shovel, Will dug up the dead flora leaving nothing other than barren dirt surrounding the headstone. Though nothing stuck out about the dirt patch alone, amongst the rest of the overgrown courtyard it ironically stood as an eye-catching oddity. Will would have to return later to clear out at least at least a little more so that his obvious favor towards Louis didn’t show through, but for now, it would have to do.

Wiping the sweat off of his face, he once more looked at the gray stone.

Louis Charadrius

Acclinis falsis animus meliora recusat

The count was far too obsessed with masquerading as a clemar of righteousness to pay any mind to his deteriorating sanity. And with as adamant as they were about their perception of a utopia, could Louis and Will have ever seen eye to eye in terms of how to rule a kingdom as a pair? Most likely not, as they were drawn to each other by far more twisted forces than shared possession of the crown. Will was aware that it was more than likely bad for him. But he still got the throne in the end. It couldn’t possibly have been that bad.

Will looked around for any signs of a stray passerby. The courtyard wasn’t going to be populated anyways, as most officials that haven’t been thrown out were drowning in meetings and paperwork in regards to the transition of the government. After reassuring himself that the coast was clear, Will sat down against the side of the stone.

What would he say to Louis if he were still here? Some sort of cruel apology for attempting to deceive him and ultimately put an end to his life? An invitation to serve beneath Will as a military general? Or rather, an offer to rule as a second king of Euchronia?

After fretting over his words for some time, he took a deep breath and stared off into the disheveled courtyard.

"It’s finally over," he said. "Your reign of terror over the people is nothing more than a page in the history book."

He spoke as if Louis could even hear him.

"Too many things I wish I could’ve said to you while I had the chance," he continued, "but it’s better late than never, I suppose. You do realize that our meetings were quite detrimental to the both of us, right?

"Actually, it’s probably something you have long since taken into account. I would be more surprised if you didn’t, actually.

"Despite such, you kept seeing me. Or rather, you allowed me to keep seeing you, despite the obvious taboo. No matter how much of a façade we put up for each other, in the end, it was a race to see who would be the first to bring the other’s final breath.

"Or maybe, trying to kill each other was the perfect disguise for what we really felt."

Will rested his palm against the side of the headstone.

"I never could understand you. Or perhaps, I never was meant to understand you. But that didn’t stop me from being drawn to you. I just wish that perhaps, if I had such capabilities sooner, then I could’ve changed our fate for the better. We could’ve shared the throne together. A portrait could’ve hung high and proud with the image of us both.

"But it was your delusion and my naivety to blame. It never would’ve worked out. But whether it was because of hope or foolishness, we still insisted on seeing each other anyways."

His hand slid off of the side of the headstone.

"Please say that the glimmer in your eyes whenever our gazes met wasn’t just a fragment of my imagination. Please say that I actually bought some kind of light into your life."

The dead speak no truths, nor can they utter a lie.

"...Please say that I didn’t betray you in the end. We both knew that it was going to come down to one or the other."

Will failed to notice the tears that were beginning to stream down his face. Subconsciously, he had been restraining his emotions this entire time, but his grip was quickly slipping. A king was normally rather hesitant to share even a shred of emotion to even his closest followers. Not even his lover would be likely to bear witness to such a display.

But Will was still young. Deep within and even on the surface, he still had a heart of gold, even towards someone he was supposed to hate, and everyone assumed he did without a second thought.

A futile lie it was for him to make himself believe that they truly hated each other. They could say it to each other’s faces all they wanted to, but it was never the case.

Both Louis and Will knew what the word "hate" was a stand-in for.

"There’s a lot you could’ve assumed from my actions alone. And I’ve said this before under the wraps of different words.

"...But, did you ever know that I loved you? Did I even bother to say I loved you? Or was I a damned fool this entire time?"

Will grabbed onto the handle of Louis’s sword, unsheathed it, jammed it into the ground, and used it to force himself to stand up.

"And like a damned fool, I never know when to let go. It’s cruelty. The last of you that I have, and I refuse to relinquish that curse from my body and allow you to find peace."

He walked around to face the front of the headstone, then plunged the sword into the ground with all of the might of his little body.

"But that ends now. I won’t keep the last of what remains of you for my own selfish desires."

His hands were shaking as they held onto the hilt of the blade.

"You deserve to sleep undisturbed, regardless of your actions or my love."

His grip gave out, and his hands slid down the edge of the blade, barely shielded by his gloves. Will collapsed onto one knee, and his hands dropped to the ground, causing his body to lean against the smooth back of the blade.

Legs too weak, eyes filled with tears, he held no control of the thoughts that came spilling out.

"Am I a failure of a king? I couldn’t save everyone. I especially couldn’t save you. Saying I deserved your loss for my mistakes would be selfish; it was I who deserved to die in your place.

"But it had to be one of us. There was simply no other way. If only you could’ve understood my vision. It’s better to unite the people than to force survival of the fittest. And it had to be the one thing we couldn’t see eye to eye on.

“Why did it have to be what pried us apart?"

Other than the wallowing cries of the king echoing throughout the courtyard, the air was filled with nothing but the silence of the dead.

[scarletwritesshit]

Yosuke Hanamura x F!Reader ❀ Town of Blossoms ❀ June 20th, 2013

A Thursday night in the middle of the week…Yosuke was still lying awake on his phone, despite having to go to work the next day. You only knew that this was the case because you too, were laying wide awake at such an hour. Despite not having the same obligations as him the following morning, you were still ultimately, no better than he was. In a way, despite the decision to stay up being of your own will, he still held a part of the blame for your wakefulness.

It was apparent that over the past few days, something has been weighing quite heavily on Yosuke’s mind. Did you have a clear answer as to what that something was yet? Unfortunately, no. The only hints that you had was the occasional side comment made in the midst of a conversation.

From what you could gather, it was something about friends and abandonment issues and other stuff of that sort. No big deal, he would always claim, but it often times lead to some late-night conversations. Tonight was no exception. Things started off as nothing more than a quick chat before bed. That “quick chat” had been going on for about two hours.

Tiredness was beginning to overtake you, but you didn’t want to abruptly ditch him in the middle of a conversation. Every time there was more than a few minutes in between responses, you’d think that maybe, he at long last, fell asleep. And so, you would allow yourself to slowly drift to sleep yourself, until you were somewhat woken up by the ringtone going off alerting you of a reply. The cycle would repeat; back and forth between two considerably tired people who simply could not bear to leave the other hanging.

You wondered if he even understood half of the nonsense manifested from your fingers. An exhausted person was in no position to provide any form of solid, logical advice, but you were trying your best regardless. Any person in their right mind would opt to wait until the morning or afternoon to resolve any sort of problems, aided with a clearer mind.

But you two were best friends. Logic got completely thrown out the window.

Don’t you have work tomorrow? you texted back.

You truthfully didn’t want to stop talking to him. Even if it were only for the night, it was the last thing that you wanted to happen. More importantly, however, you didn’t want him to fall ill from sleep deprivation, and were more than willing to sacrifice a few minutes of talk if it meant for the sake of his wellbeing.

yeah but i cant sleep anyways so it doesnt matter

Staring at your phone doesn’t help.

Like you were one to talk. Staring at your phone had no advantages for you either.

neither does blankly staring at my wall

Trying to sleep would be better for you regardless

but i dont wanna stop talking to you

too much on my mind

wayyy too much on my mind

Like what

Is it the stuff that’s been bothering you all week

This could be a prime chance for you to weasel an answer as to what was bringing him down so badly. Perhaps it was just a little wrong to use his tiredness to your advantage to try and figure out what has been bothering Yosuke. In all fairness, he did bring the topic up himself first. And you were sort of at a loss as to how to help him.

eh

longer than this week tbh

Longer? Did something else happen

no its the same stuff i guess

You guess?

mhm

idk how to tell you man

but ive just been worried that youll leave like everyone else

same nonsense

I have no intention of leaving. I promise.

But did something bring this up?

its nothing

im just really tired i guess

Can’t be nothing if you’re still awake over it

But please get some rest. At least for tonight.

You’re gonna be exhausted and miserable tomorrow if you don’t

You turned the screen of your phone off and laid it on your chest. It was late into the month of June. For Yosuke, this was the season of his birthday. It was a time where you would expect him to be happy, overjoyed even. Ironically enough, it could have been the one thing that was bringing him down after all.

The more that you thought about it, the more that it seemed like a logical explanation.

It was supposed to be a time of bringing together all of his friends to celebrate himself.

What friends, though?

Almost the entirety of your group had long since parted ways completely as Inaba calmed down and time marched on. It was of no fault of one or another, as fate had long since planned different paths for each of his friends to tread. Time and again, he would claim to be fine, but it was apparent that the loneliness was getting to him hard.

He wasn’t actually "used to it." Without a doubt, Yosuke was hurting deeply inside. As good as the intentions in your heart might have been, it wasn’t something that could be amended overnight, or even at all. Regardless, there was no way that you were going to give up on him. Somehow, you had to convince him that even though everyone else had broken contact, you had no plans of doing such yourself.

You checked your phone one last time. No response. You could only hope that he ultimately decided to give it a rest and fall asleep, or that the tiredness finally overcame him. At least tomorrow was Friday, but that was still another day of working that Yosuke had to survive. Oh so close to the weekend, yet just barely out of reach…

There was one remaining option for you to lift his spirits just in time for the weekend, and even beyond that. An opportunity that you have been silently chasing for so long may be closer than you thought. No more of this “waiting for the right moment.” For the sake of you both, one of you was going to have to take the first step forward. And if Yosuke seemingly had no plans to do it, nobody else but you could take the initiative.

You put your phone aside on the nightstand and stared blankly at the ceiling in the dark as you carefully sorted through your thoughts. No, caution was what caused such a delay in the first place. The longest you were willing to wait now would be until after he was free from the grips of Junes.

In a sea of pink blossoms, understand those before you and flourish as the purple as you are. It was as clear as day what action you needed to take. Show him that you would never leave him, and that you meant it.

Content with your plan of action, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to, at long last, drift off to sleep.

[scarletwritesshit]

🦖Dinosaur King 🦖The Secret Life of Dinos

Written for the Channel Chasers zine.

They could hear idle chatter from one room over. Chomp, Paris, and Ace peeked their heads from around the corner, just barely enough so that they could see. Not like they would be able to understand a word, let alone reasonably comprehend what was going on. Nonetheless, their curiosity was piqued by the familiar voices of their discussing companions.

“Max, are you sure that we can leave them alone for that long?”

“Come on, Zoe. They really are just…strange dogs. They’ll be fine on their own for a little while. Right, Rex?”

“I don’t know. It should only be a quick trip in theory, but I still worry about them being unsupervised for too long.”

“Exactly! At least someone has some common sense around here, Max!”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean!?”

To the three of these so-called “strange dogs,” the majority of their spoken words were comprised of incomprehensible nonsense. They were dinosaurs built for battle, thus, they only understood a few commands in regards to combat. A few words in regards to casual greetings and partings were also included amongst their limited comprehension of the human tongue. As a result of their lacking understanding, their curiosity of the world, especially in such small forms, often got the better of them.

Paris, Chomp, and Ace knew better than to attempt to remain inconspicuous and eavesdrop, regardless of the level of their comprehension. The three of them called back their plans to spy, and continued as if not a thing caught their eye.

“We’ll be back soon! Try not to cause any problems for us!” Zoe said, waving.

“And if you do, I’ll make Rex clean it up!” Max said, running out the door.

“Hey! I wasn’t the one who suggested we leave them alone!” Rex said, running after Max and closing the door behind him.

 They had only understood maybe, two or three words total from those few sentences? Gathering clues from their gestures and the environment, the trio of dinosaurs concluded that Max, Rex, and Zoe have departed for the great outdoors. Naturally, Chomp wanted to follow in the shadow of Max, free from the restraints of the house walls. He headbutted the door with his three dull horns in an attempt to nudge it open, but in his considerably small form, it would hardly budge.

Seeing that his efforts were proving fruitless, Ace stepped in to take charge. He jumped up in an attempt to grab ahold of the doorknob, but his teeth were unsuitable for gripping such a rounded, shiny surface. In frustration, Ace wiggled his two tiny claws upwards, creating a laughable, pathetic display of desperation. Angrily, he stomped his feet, which made far less of an impact than he was probably hoping for. He mustered all of his strength into his vocal cords for a roar, which was more comparable to a baby’s cry at his current scale.

Paris was probably the only reasonable one out of the three. A rather feeble attempt to reason with them was made, but her quiet chirps were only so effective against two rowdy loudmouths. In addition to this, a Parasaurolophus of her current size faired rather poorly in combat against a Triceratops like Chomp and a Carnotaurus like Ace. Regardless of what direction she could attempt to take, acting as a meditator would not to prove very effective. The tantrums of Chomp and Ace could only be quelled by the stubbornness of the immovable door.

For a short while, the three of them simply stood there and stared at the door, hoping that their masters would magically return if they hoped hard enough. That strategy, however, was not proving to be very effective. Pathetic whimpers and growls had now power against the divine force of the passage of time.

The apparent dire situation aside, there was one redeeming factor that they had failed to consider until now. The three little dinos had the entire house to themselves. And just like dogs left unsupervised, there were plenty of opportunities for them to stick their noses into places that they shouldn’t be.

Upon this realization, the first to abandon the mission of the closed door was Chomp. After enough whimpering and headbutting, he eventually concluded that perhaps it was not worth his energy. The time he spent growling and pawing (clawing?) at the door was better used in exploring uncharted territory within the establishment.

Paris and Ace watched as he walked away contemplative, wondering what ideas could possibly be stirring in that peanut-sized brain of his. Was he planning to formulate an escape route to rejoin Max, Zoe, and Rex in the great beyond? Or perhaps his plan of attack was a bit more unconventional? Curious, the two of them followed Chomp, also forfeiting their quest to open the door.

Chomp started to shove his nose into every corner of the house that his three little horns would allow for him to. Under the couch, in between books on the bookcase, in the house plants, and so on. Such nosiness wasn’t something unusual for him; only this time, nobody was around to stop him. With all trace of human life in the house long gone, more opportunities for them opened up. New activities, new possibilities, forbidden territory, the list goes on.

And this list included the refrigerator.

Now, the main problem that was posed for the three of these creatures was their lack of opposable thumbs. Paris and Ace had somewhat of an advantage, being bipedal even if their claws were a little small. However, the handle was up there, and the three of them were down here.

Paris wasn’t exactly supportive of the idea of a fridge raid anyways, taking after her master acting as the more rational member of the group. As always, she was outnumbered two to one, and Chomp and Ace were determined to figure out how to open the fridge door one way or another. Brute force, crafty tactics, it didn’t matter. They needed to secure themselves the holy grail of endless food.

He maneuvered his horns in between and under the fridge door in an attempt to try and catch the edge and nudge it open. After a bit of shoving his head around and his claws sliding on the floor, he finally caught his horns like planned and flung the door open. What was once a sealed vault moments ago was now a portal of endless opportunity. The white light blessing their eyes was as close as a hungry dinosaur would ever come to reaching heaven. All of the food they could want… as much as they could possibly as for… it felt like a sweet dreame turned miraculous reality.

Upon further inspection, dreams of an endless feast were quickly crushed by hard reality. Chomp realized that he wasn’t exactly interested in what was currently presented to him. He was expecting a bottomless supply of hearty greens and the like, as here was where his Max would always retrieve him food without fail. Much to his disappointment, all he could see was a small bundle of fruits and vegetables in the bottom drawer.

So, the supply of food was finite? Even Paris couldn’t help but be disappointed, despite distancing herself from their conspiring. Not the infinite supply she was expecting (secretly hoping) to see.

And Ace, in the midst of their flabbergasted disappointment, wasn’t going to take such a letdown for an answer. He pushed his way into the fridge, and using Chomp’s frill as a rather painful stepping stool, attempt to reach the top shelf to pull down some meat for himself. Short, stubby hands and a rather thick head were not an ideal combination, especially for shelves specifically crafted for long and thin human arms to reach into. When shoving his jaw in between the shelves didn’t work, he attempted to find his footing and climb up even further. Before he could ascend a singular level of shelves, Ace completely lost his footing and came tumbling down on Chomp, barely avoiding impaling himself on his spikes.

An unreachable lost cause. He didn’t even bother hiding the jealousy he harbored towards Paris and Chomp’s “endless” food supply was within reach in the fridge drawers. Ace herded them away and slammed the refrigerator door shut with one fell swoop of his tail. Despite the failure of the fridge expedition, losing this battle did not mean they lost the entire war. Plenty other curiosities awaited them within the kitchen alone.

Investigating the shelves and upper cabinets was completely off the table. Once again, it was because they were short. And not well equipped for climbing.

What about the other appliances? Same issues persisted. It seemed as if every aspect of their little bodies provided some sort of annoying inconvenience preventing them from actually exploring and using their alone time to their advantage. Perhaps time was better spent elsewhere, or at least on activities more worthwhile than raiding the refrigerator or eyeing up unreachable cabinets. The living room harbored a reliving feel of familiarity compared to the undaunted and unreachable hidden horrors and disappointments of the kitchen.

Usually, they were reduced to seeing such sights from a floor level. With nobody around to tell them off, the couch was theirs for the taking. It was fairly easy for Chomp and Paris to use their back legs and propel themselves upwards, but Ace struggled to climb with his short arms and lack of balance. It was quite the sight to watch a small dinosaur struggle to lift itself up, but after a few snorts of laughter, Chomp leaned down to catch Ace with his horns and pull him up.

In front of them stood a mysterious square-shaped box, with nothing but a mirrored reflection visible where a “moving picture” would typically be. The question was, just how do they force these pictures to manifest before them? There had to be some way to make the box produce these sounds and effects, but the three of them were clueless as to how.

A small rectangular object was laying on the couch pointing in the direction of the box. Paris gestured towards it, recalling Zoe holding the gadget and somehow working it to control the contents shown within the box. How this witchcraft worked, they couldn’t even begin to fathom. Even if they did have the knowledge to work it, short claws and stubby legs were no use in operating man-made devices.

Despite the low probability of any success, Chomp reached out and curiously tapped a few of the colorful bumps on the object. With his prodding, he discovered that these bumps were actually pressable, leaving him to believe that they were buttons of some sort. Surely, with enough trial and error, one of them would eventually have to work.

Ace stepped in to take a shot at working the box, but his body was too disproportioned to be able to properly handle such objects. He leaned down and frantically wiggled his little arms around, but only succeeded in falling face first into the sofa. 

Disregarding the struggling Ace as if he were an unloved brother, Paris moved in next to try to work the mysterious gadget herself. With longer arms at her disposal, she had a far better shot at working it compared to Ace, but before she could push down a singular button, Chomp had shoved her aside. He began stomping on every button with far too much enthusiasm, much to the utter bewilderment of the others. A horrible idea, given how the stomp of a clawed beast, no matter the size, packed a ton of might. Whether this was truly done intentionally or accidentally, Chomp had busted the key to the box’s operations beyond usage.

Which meant that the mystery of the screen that somehow projected moving pictures would remain unsolved.

If Paris did not have an ounce of decency remaining in her soul, she would not have hesitated to send the other two flying off of the couch with a swoop of her tail. Alas, the last thing she wanted to do was cause further destruction in the house by sending their hefty bodies tumbling through the table.

Never mind the now useless mechanical box. Ace was still struggling snout-first in the couch. Chomp tipped him off balance to the side, likely intending it as a gesture kindness to free him from his humiliating position. Though Ace may have been freed, he was also toppled onto the ground as a result. When he flung himself back onto his legs, he rudely snapped his jaw at Chomp, but he aggressively raised his horns in return.

Forget those two maniacs. Paris had reached the point of wanting nothing more than to rest her little body. Not much to do to pass the time when your legs are stubby and your fangs are flat.

But Ace and Chomp were like hyperactive dogs. They wanted something to do and they were determined to find it, whatever it may be. Expending their energy by running around in circles? Nah, that was too boring and too plain considering the limits (or lack thereof) of the freedom they had. A little bit of friendly roughhousing? They get summoned for battle enough times as it was. How was it that they had an entire house open to them, yet they couldn’t figure out anything to do?

They couldn’t even participate in what their companions did on the norm. Anything and everything was suitable only for two-legged creatures… with hands meant for such things.

But what was within their reach was the rather chewable looking legs of the furniture. Close to the ground, did not require a human hand to pry open, inconspicuous enough to not immediately be noticed…

And they did have free reign of the place…

As if they were telepathically communicating, Chomp, Ace, and Paris went silent and looked at each other.

If a smile could be formed on their face, the two troublemakers would be grinning from ear to ear once the realization hit. In a split-second, Chomp and Ace took off and began gnawing away at the furniture. The taste wasn’t exactly pleasant, as Chomp kept spitting out stray threads and Ace felt as if the texture couldn’t compare to that of fresh meat. Nevertheless, they continued chomping and gnawing away. Paris chirped for them to stop, but neither of them cared given that they had, at long last, found a worthwhile way of utilizing their brief moment of freedom.

She was almost half-tempted to join in on the "fun" herself, but she refrained. She briefly attempted acts of mass destruction for herself by chewing on the couch cushions a little, but her flat little teeth were getting her nowhere. Meanwhile, Chomp was wearing down whatever he could get his little mouth around and Ace was living up to his name as an ace of house wreckage.

Quickly deciding to throw in the towel, Paris freed her teeth of the couch strings and instead calmly curled up for the time being.  As the other two handfuls went about their pint-sized rampage, Paris opted to look away and act completely uninvolved with the other two. As if that would make her any less guilty, given her brief cooperation in heists prior.

In the midst of their terror, the knob of the front door began to shuffle.

[scarletwritesshit]

PSA for Fanfic Authors

There's a very common scam going around right now. Not sure if it's hitting Wattpad, but these messages are definitely going around both AO3 and FFN:

I'm gonna talk to AO3, because that's where I live. These are most often guest accounts, but lately people have been getting them from registered users, as well.

You tend to get a paragraph of generic compliments that don't actually reference your fic in any way. Or, if they do, it's extremely broad: "Hey, I love how you portray the relationship between Blorbo and Blorbette!" That could be about literally any fic in the ship tag.

Then you get into the hook. "I'm an artist, and I would love to collaborate with you to bring your work to life!" And, since getting fanart is one of the highest compliments an author can get, you get excited and agree to privately message the person on Discord or Insta.

Then it turns out that they're a commission artist, and they would like you to pay up front for them to create that art they're so excited about. I've seen people report being asked for US $200 - $300 on average. Once you've paid them, one of two things happen: Either they simply ghost you entirely, or you get sent a piece of shitty AI "art".

Real commission artists don't need to coldcall random authors. They generally have a backlog of several months. A real commission artist will also generally ask for partial payment up front, but that's usually a token, basically a deposit. You should expect to see progress drawings, as well; sketches, and drafts, that you should be able to approve before the design is finalized. A real artist will work very closely with you to ensure that you're getting the art that you want.

If you get one of these scams, and it's from a guest user, click the Spam button, and delete the comment. If it's a registered user, report them for violating the TOS (spamming, monetization) and then block.

If you fell for one of these scams, contact your bank. You should be able to put a stop payment on the transaction, and recover your money. You can also contact the cash app (venmo, paypal, etc.). Even if you received AI crap, that is not what you paid for. You were paying for genuine art, and receiving anything else makes it a fraudulent transaction.

Stay safe out there!

[scarletwritesshit]

⭐ Sunday x Stelle ⭐ Ruler Of My Dreams

All evil that dared stood in the path of Stelle were doomed to be conquered by the very might of her baseball bat. One thing she wasn’t, however, was a blind killer without reason. Giant freakishly mutated space bugs had a reason to be squashed beneath her boot. And mara-struck Luofu soldiers too – those were long dead anyways.

But a man misguided onto the wrong path? He retained no reason for her to kill. In fact, she would argue that it was a part of her duty as a Nameless to save his life and lead him onto the path of salvation. Making it even worse for her, his worlds held some ounce of truth to them, albeit twisted in favor of his tyrannical desire. He had a noble heart, if only he could’ve seen eye to eye with Stelle a moment sooner.

When the Astral Express landed the final strike against The Great Septimus, its body, or rather Sunday’s, collapsed into the abyss, and Stelle could not bring herself to simply stand by idly. As it fell backwards, its lifeless eyes shone with glint of desperation, expression unchanging yet pleading for help all the same. Through the void he would fall, then meet the tragic death of his dream if Stelle didn’t take swift action.

Dying in the resting world was hardly a step up from experiencing it in reality. The sensations felt just as real, only what awaited on the other side was the comfort of one’s bed, and neither heaven nor hell. For him to experience it regardless was a thought most unpleasant, and Stelle couldn’t bear to imagine him falling victim to the illusion of passing on. They were on opposite sides, but he was not the enemy.

Desperation overcame rationality. Stelle charged headfirst towards the end of the stage, where the shell of a god once looked down upon the Express Crew. The calls of Himeko and Welt were futile, and March and Dan Heng could only watch speechless. She paid no mind to their concerns, not even looking back with an ounce of doubt. Once she reached the edge, Stelle flung herself off of the stage and dived down towards the disintegrating false Aeon.

As she was falling, the pieces breaking off of The Great Septimus disintegrated like comets on their last breath of life. The stardust glazing by her skin caused her no harm; it was more like a gentle kiss of heavenly light rather than the final gambit of a dying star. And as the false Aeon faded away, it slowly revealed the limp body of a Havlovian deprived of any will to carry on.

The bird didn’t bother to flap his wings. His eyes were closed, content with the death that awaited him at the bottom. Even if this world were a mere illusion of the mind, he was welcoming of death all the same.

Stelle angled herself downwards to hopefully gain some momentum. The faster she could catch him, the better, though not having any way of lifting him up herself, she could still break his fall and soothe the brutality of his awakening.

Sunday paid no mind to her.

With a heartfelt cry, Stelle reached her hand out to him.

Sunday still paid no mind to her.

Only after one final dive with the assistance of the Stellaron did Sunday at last acknowledge Stelle’s efforts. When her fingers caught ahold of his clothing, she pulled him closer and embraced him in a hug, knocking what little breath he still had out of him. At that very instant, the flow of time seemed to have slowed down around them. The two of them were drifting downwards as gently as a soft dove’s feather. As Stelle held him close, Sunday’s body felt limp, collapsing into her arms.

He opened his eyes and smiled.

“And here I was under the assumption that you were adamant about standing against me,” Sunday said.

“I never truly stood against you,” Stelle said. “I only wanted you to see just how badly you were overextending your reach.”

“Well, how was I to bring about change? I had to give the people a little nudge, as initial support was not unanimous.”

“That was far more than a little nudge. And you know it. You took things too far.”

“Not far enough,” Sunday said with a weak cough. “You managed to fell me. Your ideals triumphed over mine simply because in the end, none of what I had done was enough.”

“It wasn’t a matter of being weak, or one’s ideas being superior to another’s. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get others on board for change. But there is a fine line between convincing and manipulation.”

Sunday furiously coughed once more. “Tell me, Stelle. Why do you think people dream?”

“…Why do people dream? Doesn’t Penacony’s Dreamscape act as a respite from reality’s troubles?”

“Ah…but dreams in the waking world function in the same way, do they not? Yet those dreams don’t always play out in the most favorable way. Penacony was different, in the way it was supposed to offer an escape from all that ails one both physically and mentally. While our fragile bodies rest safely, we can life out our lives oblivious to any and all burden.”

“Isn’t that just a detrimental delusion?”

“Is a delusion truly harmful when all have been granted peace of mind?” Sunday asked.

“I guess not, but we can’t just ignore reality should we dislike how the timeline unfolds before us.”

“And why should we live worrying ourselves with factors beyond our control? No planet is without its treachery and misfortune. It’s an unavoidable fact. Why allow such to weigh heavily on your mind? Penacony offered an escape from factors as benign as the less fortunate and short lived to acting sanctuary for entire societies that have collapsed. Nobody would have the burden of the unfortunate and undeserved circumstances bestowed upon them.”

Stelle found his points difficult to argue. He spoke of precisely what she wanted; the freedom of the people from Stellaron disasters, IPC genocides, intersocietal conflicts…

“Surely, there could’ve been a much easier way of approaching things,” Stelle said.

“Not everything is meant to be easy. If it were, then the problem would have been rectified in the past. Ascending was a great difficulty that I had managed to overcome, but I have ultimately failed to live up to such a position. I was so close. So close to making everyone happy.”

A tear fell from his eyes.

“So close to being a god, but without worshippers, what good am I?”

“…You truthfully just wanted to make everyone happy, didn’t you?” Stelle asked.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Take the burden of the people upon myself. Be the one that countless people thank every day for their sanctuary and protection.”

“You’re simply misguided,” Stelle said. “Your heart is in the right place, but there are superior ways to leading a revolution for the people.”

“Why should it matter now, anyways? We’re both slowly falling to our deaths.”

“And when we ‘die’ here, we simply wake in reality. Then, you can turn over a new leaf.”

“And change our future with what firepower? I have nothing left to my name.”

“But you have me. All it takes is a single follower to be a god to someone. You don’t need to have a mass following behind you to enact change,” Stelle said, holding Sunday as close as she possibly could against the force of them plummeting.

“Despite everything, you truthfully still hold faith in me?” he asked

With her face still shoved in his shoulder, Stelle nodded her head. A most delightful reaction, he thought to himself. One person who was still willing to believe in him…to carry on with the ideals he failed to make a reality the first time.

His eyes narrowed and a smile crept across his face.

“Then how about an agreement between us? Make me your god. I can give you everything.”

Their intertwined bodies hit the ground, and the golden starlight in their eyes shone no longer.

A short time later, on the Astral Express…

“You’re really going to trust that freak to stay out of trouble?” Dan Heng inquired.

“Like you’re any better!” March said. “Besides, this lets us keep him under our watchful eyes and we can make sure he doesn’t go trying to take over any more planets, or whatever. Nothing to worry about as long as the conductor is fine with it.”

“Invite whoever you want at this point. You’ve allowed prisoners, mementic entities, war criminals, and more to board. Who am I to care? At this point, invite Nanook,” Pom Pom said, sulking in a corner.

“See? Completely fine.”

“I shall be on my utmost best behavior,” Sunday said with a polite bow. “Stelle here has volunteered to watch over me for the time being, so I assure you that I cannot cause any problems even if I wanted to.”

“I’m the designated chicken wrangler,” Stelle said proudly.

“I suppose that is… certainly one way to put it,” Sunday said, his wings twitching. “Nevertheless, trailblazing is about forging our own paths, no? Order is no more. From here on out, I remain loyal to the path of the Trailblaze.”

Himeko was still understandably apprehensive. “Stelle, do keep an eye on him,” she cautioned. “Show him around the Express or something to keep him occupied.”

Some time away from the other Express members, with only Stelle at his side? Sunday smiled inconspicuously, most pleased by the opportunity before him.

“You got it boss!” she said with a salute.

Stelle gestured for Sunday to come follow her through the door leading to the parlor car. With a gentle nod, Sunday made haste in following her through the door and down the corridor.

“It looks so humble from the outside, yet the interior is certainly most grand,” Sunday commented as he looked around.

“It’s Pom Pom you should be praising for this vessel, not me,” Stelle said.

“You’re a key part of the team, are you not? I still feel as if I should deliver my utmost praise and thanks to you,” Sunday said.

“Regardless, it’s not as big of a deal you think it is,” Stelle said, stopping in front of one of the doors. “You said that there was something you wanted to talk to me about once you boarded, right?”

Sunday nodded his head. Stelle placed the palm of her hand on the door in front of her, opening it. It led into her room, which wasn’t necessarily prepared for guests, but it was the most suitable place for them to have a quiet talk nonetheless.

“Make yourself comfortable. I wasn’t expecting visitors, but I hope this will do.”

A smirk appeared across Sunday’s face. “It is most acceptable.”

“I apologize if it isn’t up to your standards,” Stelle said, walking him into her room. “Would I have known, I would’ve straightened my room up for you a bit.”

“No need for apologies. I am most thankful for the invitation to the Express.”

Stelle sat down on her bed, leaving Sunday room should he chose to join her. However, he chose to stand by the window rather than rest his legs. He held his arms behind his back as he looked out at the passing cosmos.

“So, in a way, this… ‘trailblazing’ thing of yours is a form of redemption?”

“More or less, for some of us. Take Dan Heng, for example. He found himself in a somewhat similar position to you right now, falling from grace and atoning for his sins by joining us.”

“Guided on the same path, yet all following your own destinies. It’s most fascinating how your little group operates.”

“I guess we’re all fascinating in our own way.”

Sunday turned away from the window and walked towards Stelle. He stood tall and proud over her, surprisingly majestic for a man who had just fallen from grace. His eyes had the most gentle yet focused gaze, looking down at her as she remained seated on the edge of the bed.

“If I am not mistaken, you are a Stellaron without a purpose, so you have declared your chosen path as one who saves those in most desperate need?” Sunday asked with a smile.

“For now, I guess. Always finding myself roped into conflict after conflict to quell Stellaron disasters at seemingly every corner of the galaxy.”

“Enough of this small talk,” Sunday said. “You wanted a future where the people could forgo experiencing such conflicts, no? I still retain the power promised to put an end to all of this blasphemy in an instant.”

“…Something along those lines, I suppose,” Stelle said, scratching her chin in thought.

Sunday tilted his head, perhaps out of curiosity, or a twisted sense of pity.

“And you’re the key to me bringing about these sweet dreams to those who reside in Penacony and beyond,” he said.

“The key to bringing about sweet dreams?”

He reached out his hand to gently caress the side of her face. He nudged back her hair with precise movements of his fingers, allowing for her golden eyes to shine brightly with a luminous glow almost identical to that of Sunday’s. Four vibrant stars glistening like the Southern Cross in Penacony’s night sky remained fixated on the other’s gaze, connected even if for a moment.

“The Stellaron that outshines even the brightest sun is the key, my star. Your worship. Your power. Combining our powers for the greater utopia…neither nightmare nor reality would pose an obstacle to total salvation of the peoples’ souls.”

Stelle remained silent and on guard as Sunday stroked the side of her face with his thumb. His wings were outstretched and proud, yet fluttering subtly with a hint of anticipation and excitement.

“Lend me your strength to once more fuel the dreams of Penacony, no, the entire cosmos for as long as the dates on the calendar pass.”

“I don’t believe these lies you spout,” Stelle said.

Sunday leaned in closer, his devious smirk only growing in size. “And why is that, darling? You were so enthusiastic about coming to my aid mere moments ago, but what has caused you to have a change of heart in such a short period of time? Dedicate yourself as a worshiper of mine. And in return, I can give you everything and anything you desire in our dream.”

“I thought that the entire purpose of you joining the Express was to keep you from creating another mass hysteria,” Stelle said, leaning back in response to Sunday’s advances.

“But the path of the Trailblaze allows for us to follow our own paths, does it not? I merely wish to return to my plans to free the people of suffering as a result of this cruel, cruel world forced upon us.”

He slid his hand down her neck and shoulder, grabbing onto her arm and pulling her closer.

“Everything. Everything you can desire. Everything your friends can desire. Everything the world could desire. Think about it. Only a fool would pass up such an opportunity.”

“I quite like having my head screwed on right and living in the real world, thank you very much.”

“I like the pretty little face I see in this reality.”

He yanked her even close.

“My star…my savior… lend me your strength,” Sunday said.

“I’ll throw you back into the void of the Dreamscape if you don’t back off,” Stelle threatened.

Sunday sighed, his wings drooping and grip on her arm loosening. “I’ll never understand you or your eccentric companions, my dear.”

“Maybe you’re not meant to.”

He walked away from her and held his hands behind his back. “Alas, if you wish to surrender the favor of a god and everything that you could possibly have, then who am I to stop you? In the meantime, I will be waiting patiently if you change your mind.”

[scarletwritesshit]

🖋️Ganyu x Ayato 🖋️ Choking on Ink

written as a birthday present for my old ass friend @hopefulceladon

-

Dear Mr. Kamisato,

No, that didn’t sound right.

Dear Mr. Ayato,

That sounded arguably worse.

Dear Kamisato-san,

Still didn’t feel right.

Dear Ayato-san,

That’ll have to do, otherwise, she’ll run out of paper at the rate she was discarding letters.

Ganyu was having far too many problems agonizing over what to write. She could barely get the letter started; writing the rest of it seemed like a virtually impossible task. In all honestly, she would have preferred it to be a super-important-absolutely-must-be-flawless letter to the Inazuma shogunate, as that was something she was far more experienced with. Writing a personal letter to the head of the Kamisato clan, let alone a confession of feelings, was not in her job description.

How such feelings arose began with few and far in between business trips involving the cooperation of Inazuma and Liyue. Their chats were filled with all manner of government nonsense, and anything falling under that umbrella. What little down time they did have, Ganyu usually spent it discussing international relations between the two regions. Or, that was her excuse, at least. Any air of formality with Ayato quickly turned into casual chatter when they would finally have a moment to themselves. His words were smooth and his tone was gentle with her, melting away any lingering anxieties of hers that had yet to dissipate.

The unlikely pair of nerve-wrecked adeptus and smooth-talking clan head evolved into the exchange of letters in between formal visits and other exchanges. One single letter from Ayato was enough to spark enough joy in her to last through the busy week, even if it were simply a tax document penned with his own hand.

Enough waiting, she decided. Who even gets excited over tax documents just because they were in some guy’s handwriting? Ganyu couldn’t hold out any longer, and she’d best confess her feelings to him one way or another before it was too late, or before she delved deeper into insanity. No confessing would be happening if she couldn’t make it past the greeting, however…

I am writing to you to discuss…

What was this, a peace treaty?

There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.

Not that either. Just cut to the chase.

I apologize in advance if this seems abrupt, but there is something that I must confess to you. I will admit, I have quite enjoyed our long talks together, even outside of the sphere of Inazuma and Liyue formalities.

In a way, your words bring me peace. They go beyond the pots of tea we have shared or the words of reassurance we have exchanged. Even when we are split apart by Teyvat’s vast wasters, joy is bought to my hectic little office upon receival of a letter personally written by your hand.

I deeply regret being unable to tell you this in person, but it seems as if our schedules do not align in the near future for a formal meet up. In order to not waste any more of your precious time, I wish to be straightforward with you and say that I...

By this point, Ganyu’s hands were trembling violently, and she could not manage to write the last few words of her letter. The ink brush quivered in her hands, and she couldn’t quite manage to stabilize herself enough to finish it off with “like you.” While her nerves rendered her immobile, she skimmed over the rest of her letter, which only caused her to become even more unsure of her words. Did it seem too rushed? Was she simply a lost cause? She even thought about scrapping it completely and restarting, but had no better ideas on how to word her feelings.

Being imperfect and genuine was better than obsessive over formality.

She would just have to push herself to finish it.

Ganyu closed her eyes and wrote the two words she had been agonizing herself over for so long.

…like you.

Now, her debate lay in figuring out a proper conclusion to such an admission. Please reply at your earliest convenience? I early await your response? None of it felt right. Maybe she just…shouldn’t have done this in the first place, but there was no turning back now.

I’m sorry if this seems rushed. I don’t know how to tell you these sorts of things. Please let me know what you think. Or you can ignore completely too. That’s fine. I won’t feel bad.

Thank you kindly,

Ganyu

Ganyu didn’t want to look at the letter any longer. After freeing those words from her mind, she concluded it as fast as she could so that her eyes would no longer glaze over the embarrassing words she had admitted to someone who was theoretically a political ally. As she was desperately waiting for the ink to dry, she averted her gaze from the paper, overthinking what she had just done. Ganyu frantically checked for the ink to dry, but looked no longer than she had to.

It felt as if it took far too long to dry, but she breathed a sigh of relief once it was safe to be rolled up and prepared to be mailed. Even with the letter destined for the islands across the sea, out of sight did not necessarily mean out of mind.

He carefully read the letter about three times at this point.

Ganyu? Confessing her feelings? It was a most unexpected, yet rather pleasant surprise. Ayato was convinced that he was going to be the one to make a move, but that little adeptus truly was full of surprises, even going as far as making the first move on this shogi board of love.

 He got up from his desk and paced around his office, pondering his next course of action. Being delicate and formal was not fitting for the situation, even with a gentle soul like Ganyu. At the same time, he wanted to assure that his message would be communicated in a proper manner. Walking circles around his desk was, unfortunately, not very productive.

Taking a deep breath, Ayato sat back down at his desk and prepared his pen and scroll. Upon grabbing ahold of his pen, he was made aware of just how sweaty his hands have become under his gloves. That would prove to be most uncomfortable and distracting while writing, so Ayato bit the tips of the gloves and slid them off one at a time, spitting them onto the floor for the time being. Once his uncomfortably damp hands were freed, he shook them to air them out so that he may write with reasonable comfort.

To my dearest Ganyu,

I apologize for my schedule being filled to the brim, unable to allot for a proper confession between the two of us. In truth, I had been holding out on confessing my feelings for you, as I desired to do so in person without any lingering concerns in the air. Our schedules could never quite align, and I apologize if I have caused any anxiety for you with my unintentionally erratic behavior.

Should things clear up in the near future, I would absolutely love to take you on a proper outing. Otherwise, I have to pray that my love is properly conveyed within this letter.

Regards,

Kamisato Ayato.

Ayato looked at the letter, and even his brief, heartfelt words felt overbearing. He wasn’t quite ready for his first exchange of I-love-you’s with her; that was one of many milestones he felt was better reserved for an in-person confrontation. Regrettably, this reply would have to do for the time being.

He rolled up the scroll ever so cautiously and sealed it shut with the utmost care, sliding it onto his backed-up pile of mail to be sent out. Ayato picked up his gloves off of the floor and tossed them onto his desk.

Another day, another waiting game, he thought as he crossed his arms and looked at the neatly rolled letter on top of the mail pile. At least, waiting for his beloved’s admission of love was a sudden yet most welcome conclusion to one romantic game of cat and mouse.

[scarletwritesshit]

Louis Guiabern x Will🐍One Last Dance

What you cannot have is often more tempting than what is within reach. But did God really say that you cannot eat from any tree in the garden?

🐍Cross posted on Ao3🐍

🐍For great is the Count and most worthy of praise; he is to be feared above all gods.

🐍Those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe.

🐍 Show me your ways, Count, teach me your paths.

🐍Do not be deceived: 'Evil company corrupts good habits.'

🐍And we know that for those who love the Count all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

🐍The Count will fight for you; you need only to be still.

[scarletwritesshit]

Louis Guiabern x Will🐍One Last Dance

🐍III. Show me your ways, Count, teach me your paths.

The scrunched-up expression on Strohl’s face made him seem like he was asking, "What the hell kind of greeting is THAT?" without actually saying it. But he knew better than to get off of on the wrong foot. He so very badly wanted to chuck his sword directly at that pompous count’s face, but for the sake of the plan in the long run, he swallowed his words and bit his tongue. It was probably much better to let Hulkenberg do the talking.

...If she wasn’t silently captivated by the fact she was standing within a few feet of her favorite songstress Junah.

Neuras was no better. He was a little less graceful with hiding his enthusiasm, and Will was quite frankly concerned that he would leap for his prey any moment now.

With all of his friends being equally unhelpful, Will was left to deal with the elephant in the room. Not the ideal situation for stumbling out of his own gauntlet runner to lead up to.

This was far worse than being face to face with the painting. This Louis was real, and if looks could kill, Will would be dead on the ground before their eyes could even meet. Forcing his thoughts away, he stared down Louis attempting to assert some sort of dominance, but his cool stare in return only made Will want to get on his knees.

"Does my presence somehow offend you? It would truly a shame if so," Louis said.

Please don’t say yes, pleaaase don’t say yes, Will thought, in regards to Strohl.

He could just imagine the veins popping out of his forehead, but dared not break eye contact with Louis to check.

"Why are you here?" Will asked, completely ignoring his inquiry.

"I asked you first. Perhaps I should interpret your lack of acknowledgement as yes for an answer?"

"I didn’t say that. I just want to know why you’ve stopped us here.”

"Weve already been jumped once," Strohl interjected, "Please forgive our leader for being so on edge."

Thank the gods Strohl managed to say something smart.

Louis reached out his hand and gestured for Will’s group to stand down. In front of perhaps one of history’s most diabolical leaders, it would be foolish to put themselves in such a vulnerable position, and so Will responded by gripping the handle of his blade harder. Louis, however, shot the two tense paripus beside him a commanding glare, ordering them both to stand down as well.

Could he truthfully have no intention to kill?

That wouldn’t make any sense if he was as ruthless as he appeared to be.

Confused and still on edge, Will was the first to slowly lower his weapon, looking back at Strohl and Hulkenberg as he did so. Hulkenberg shortly followed his lead, but Strohl was quite apprehensive. After a few moments of prolonged silence and a pleading gaze from Will, he begrudgingly lowered his weapon as well.

As for Neuras…never mind him. He had long since ran off to personally investigate Louis’s gauntlet runner (and not Junah like Will had initially suspected).

"Now that our little misunderstanding has been cleared up-" Louis started.

"Clear up? You didn’t clear up shit!" Strohl interjected.

"You came after us first. An explanation would be appreciated..." Will said, attempting to ease the tension between the groups.

"Bold."

"Huh?"

"Awfully bold of the one who stopped first to think that he can do the questioning," Louis said as he approached Will.

Will braced himself for Louis to draw his blade, but he simply lifted up his chin effortlessly with his finger as he was frozen in place, and stared down Will as if he were a cat most satisfied with cornering its prey. Hulkenberg and Strohl tensed up and readied their weapons once more, but backed down after realizing that they had no feasible way of landing a strike on the count. The only thing they would ultimately accomplish was further enraging the two paripus and more than likely Junah as well.

"Do yourself a favor and watch your tone, darling. But I’m feeling generous today, and I’ll let you off unscathed."

Watch his tone? Wasn’t Strohl the one backtalking?

"A pity it would be for such a lovely elda to be defiled by my hands," he said, gently running his hand up the side of Will’s face and brushing aside his hair.

So much for needing a plan to win the count over.

His words and gestures sent Will’s body into a nervous shock. He certainly wasn’t prepared to side with Louis this early on, let alone be this physically close to him. Gallica tugged at Will’s shirt, seeing that he had become quite nervous, but he pushed her away in an attempt to assure her that he would be fine.

"W-What do you want from me?" Will asked, attempting to keep his cool.

"I have a proposition," Louis said, "that I believe could be mutually beneficial for us.”

"Don’t try anything silly!" Strohl snapped.

"An elda like you has absolutely no chance of gaining favor with the masses. Though, I believe we could strike a little deal to rectify this if you were so willing."

This was Will’s chance. Surprisingly soon, but a chance nonetheless.

"A-absolutely! I mean...what do you want me to do?"

"Haha, eager aren’t we? Calm yourself, dear, for I haven’t even explained my terms yet."

Will was setting himself up for a potential deal with the devil, a contract he was doomed to from the beginning. It mattered not if he sealed the deal now or later, as he would find himself at the mercy of the demon pulling the strings just so he had even the slightest chance of seeing the sun rise over the last morning star.

"They are most simple. I need you to lend me your sword."

"That’s it?" Will asked, bewildered.

"There are some tasks that I cannot be bothered to dirty my hands with. An inconspicuous traveler like you is far better suited to them than I am. Carry them out with great efficiency, and my blessing shall be yours."

"But...why help me? Don’t you want to eliminate the competition?"

Louis leaned in close to whisper into his ear.

"That is precisely why I am recruiting you."

Will knew instinctively that there had to be some sort of dastardly catch in return for the count’s favor. It wasn’t a shock that Louis was more than willing to resort to directly assassinating others to keep the competition thin, but he wasn’t expecting to be the one recruited for the job. Will turned around to his group with a look of shock and desperation, none of them able to hear the conversation but catching onto the sense of urgency nonetheless.

"I’m...gonna need to discuss this with my group first," Will said, slowly inching away.

"A smart leader, I see," Louis said with a smirk. "So be it. Discuss my proposal amongst yourselves, and I pray you return with good news."

Will gestured for Strohl and Hulkenberg (Neuras was still a lost cause) to follow him back to their gauntlet runner to hopefully discuss out of earshot of Louis and his goons. The three of them huddled around in a circle while Gallica sat on Will’s shoulder and leaned in.

"From your face alone, things don’t look too good," Strohl said.

"Well, he did offer for me to join him, at least" Will said.

"What? You’re kidding me right now."

"I’m serious. But he wants me to uh…do some work for him."

“…What kind of work? If it’s from that weasel, it can’t be anything good.”

“All he really said is that he wants me to…eliminate the competition.”

"No way. Absolutely not. Don’t take his offer."

"But it gives me a head start on getting close to him. Who knows if a chance like this will come for me again?"

"It could be, no, it absolutely is a trap!"

"Then I’ll just have to outsmart him," Will said.

"Will does make a good point," Hulkenberg said. "Who knows when such an opportunity will arise again, if at all?"

"If you’re really planning on going through with some stupid crap, you’d better let me tag along so that someone at least has their head screwed on right!" Gallica said.

"I already planned on doing that. It’s a matter of if Louis will let you come or not," Will said.

“He can kiss my ass.”

"Don’t tell me that you’re actually going through with this," Strohl said.

"It’s the best chance we’ll probably get," Gallica said, "and I’m small enough to slip away and trade messages between us when needed. It’s not like we’re going to be completely cut off from each other.”

"I can’t tell if you’re incredibly brave or incredibly stupid," Strohl said.

"Well... we have to take whatever opportunities befall us," Will said.

Hulkenberg and Gallica nodded their heads in agreement and separated from the huddle. Strohl was not fully convinced, but he was outnumbered three to one, so it mattered not if he agreed or disagreed. Reluctantly, he agreed in silence and walked back with the rest of the group to Louis with their consensus. His arms were crossed as he was waiting patiently, with his two paripus companions standing around looking rather lost.

"I suppose you have come baring good news? Louis asked with a smile.

"I... I’ve decided to come with you," Will said," but on one condition."

Louis tilted his head, perplexed. "Go on."

"I want Gallica to accompany me."

Louis was understandably apprehensive about his request. A fairy that practically have free range of movement meant that if she so desired, she could slip through the cracks and expose Louis's plans to those from Will’s group that have been left behind. Even worse, she could expose all of his secrets to the church, rendering his internal takeover a failure in the span of an evening.

He narrowed his eyes and tapped his foot as he debated his response to Will’s demands. After a few brief moments of silent thought, he gestured for his three companions to turn away and beckoned for them to come closer. Silently, and out of earshot of Will’s group, he sternly whispered his orders.

"Keep that fairy in your sights at all times."

They nodded diligently.

"I suppose I could be bothered to accommodate your companion," Louis said, once more facing Will.

Will and his friends exchanged silent acknowledgement of Louis’s agreement. With Gallica on his shoulder, he stood tall and walked towards Louis, much to the count’s pleasure.

"...Be careful out there," Strohl called.

"Come back in one piece," Hulkenberg said.

Will didn’t even spare one final wave for his now former teammates as he walked away. From this moment forward, he was under Louis's command, and he would have to maintain a façade of undying loyalty for this plan to actually work. As he guided him back to his gauntlet runner, Louis appeared to be in absolutely no hurry to return. In fact, Will had his suspicions that he was purposefully trailing behind to separate the two of them from their accompanying soldiers. He slowed to a stop, but Louis simply put his hand on Will’s back to nudge him forward.

The entire time, nobody seemed to have bothered to question the apparent absence of their leader. It was quite likely that his accomplices were rather used to his strange and erratic ways, hence why none bothered to look back. With assurance that none would question them, Will took this brief moment of opportunity to closely observe Louis as they walked together in the embrace of the afternoon sun.

Strangely enough, Louis was both a horribly imposing yet terribly comforting presence to Will. He could knock him out of the race at any moment with one fell slash of the dagger, immune to Will’s futile attempts at retaliation. Louis, however, showed no signs of aiming for the kill as he kept his hands distanced from his blades and Will held even closer.

With such little distance now between them, Will could see that there was a certain air of grace to the count. His long blond hair shone like a morning star, glowing with a radiance only seen at the first breath of sunrise. Louis's eyes had an ice-cold cruelty to them, focused on the prey standing in the way of his throne and apathetic to the blood spilt at his feet.

For someone who was supposedly a twisted, cold-blooded murderer, he appeared awfully refined and proper. Or perhaps, that was one of many keys to his masterful deception.

Regardless of the reasoning for such, Louis was quite the sight to take in from afar, and even more grand up close.

So grand, that Will had failed to realize that he had been staring at him the entire time. Gallica was not willing to let his absentmindedness go unpunished, and flicked him on the side of the head to snap him out of his daydream.

"Helloooo? What’s got you all enamored like that?" Gallica said.

"Oh uh...nothing. It’s nothing," Will said, blatantly lying.

"Sure. I believe you. Absolutely believe you."

Louis took notice of their back and forth and curiously looked down at Will.

"Is something the matter?" Louis asked.

"It’s nothing. At all. I swear it’s nothing," Will said.

"He was eyeing you up, all right. It’s almost embarrassing to watch," Gallica teased, rolling her eyes.

The slow turn and wide-eyed stare of utter shock from Will failed to phase Gallica, as she was more than pleased with such an adverse reaction to a seemingly improbable case.

She still probably hasn’t forgiven Will for the painting incident, that bastard.

"Eyeing me up? When we walk together as nothing less than equals?"

"E-equals?" Will asked, shocked, "But I just joined you only a few moments ago..."

"We are walking side by side, are we not? I invited you for cooperation, not degradation."

Will opted to remain silent, figuring that he would be better off not arguing against receiving a blessing of such high praise. Questioning the count further could lead to his patience snapping, and Will would experience firsthand just how "alleged" those murders are.

There was no denying the possibility that the sudden and unexpected kindness from Louis was all part of a grander scheme. It was certainly an unconventional way of dissolving his competition, but why not serenade a more worthy participant into joining his cause? Why an elda no-name? Why hasn’t Will been killed on the spot?

Was there an ounce of truth behind Louis’s sweet words after all?

[scarletwritesshit]

Louis Guiabern x Will🐍One Last Dance

🐍II. Those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe.

Will sat by one of the gauntlet runner windows and watched as the scenery passed. The endless repeat of trees and grass was something he was not particularly engrossed by, causing him to resort to his inner thoughts to keep himself occupied.

Kill him.

Kill Louis, one way or another.

King’s magic this, competition that, it all felt like a bunch of pointless nonsense to Will. The goals of everyone who mattered seemed to align with everything but the competition itself. Candidates were aiming to keep Louis off the throne, all while he was somehow winning by doing absolutely nothing. Meanwhile, Will was far more focused with getting close to the count himself rather than winning the overwhelming favor of the people.

Well, he did get pretty close to him already. Sort of. Every time Will thought about getting close to Louis, he recalled that one time he was close to him, or rather, a beautifully crafted painting of the count.

It could’ve taken weeks, no, months to painstakingly create by hand. And it was destroyed in an instant. Just like that.

He hadn’t admitted to anyone that the painting was still on his mind, not even to Gallica. Her fleeting comment about revisiting the painting after the violence had quelled seemed to have been made simply out of frustrated haste rather than as a genuine suggestion. But he still wanted to return for one last look. At least this Louis wouldn’t take one look at Will and slaughter him without question.

No matter. That painting’s existence was now a mere concept and would hardly be missed, as it reeked of simply being a personal treasure of Zorba. It was nothing more than an insignificant detail better omitted from the history books, yet it was ever-present in the memories of Will.

Gallica rested on his shoulder, just as spaced out as he was. Few words were, if any, were ever exchanged during these contemplative sessions. Their minds were usually weighed down with the happenings prior, and one hardly had any spare energy for small talk.

Regardless, Will’s thoughts always managed to circle back to Count Louis.

Bring his attention upon you.

Show him you’re worthy of his time.

Infiltrate the ranks it’s too late.

With a little bit of dumb luck, he should be able to get his attention if he played his cards right. Unfortunately, the man he was directly competing against was more than likely responsible for an unfathomable number of killings in the past. And Will... he really had nothing noteworthy under his belt. It was all one giant battle of chess between a grandmaster and a pigeon.

As hopeless as he was in the big picture, he still clung onto the slightest bit of hope that Louis would gaze upon him with admirable curiosity. And if not him, perhaps one of his friends would strike his fancy instead.

His thoughts continued to drift idly as the passing scenery provided nothing noteworthy enough to snap him out of his trance. He had to stay in the ranking for the sake of their plan, but where was he going to find a head big enough to garner enough support? More importantly, one that big enough to get the attention of Louis?

Louis this, Louis that, wasn’t there anything else for him to think about? In Will’s defense, he was a formidable target, and outsmarting him was going to be no easy task. He wondered if everyone else was thinking this much about killing Louis. Or perhaps the others were pacing themselves with their planning, and not allowing for their anxieties to spiral far too out of control quite yet…

"Hulkenberg, what the devil is THAT?"

"It’s tender, it’s hearty, and it’s delicious!"

Will’s planning to dominate the count was quickly interrupted by Strohl and Hulkenberg once again bickering over food. Out of morbid curiosity, he slid down from the window to see for himself the "delicious" meal that Hulkenberg was treating them to today.

To be expected, she had prepared form of...strange meat.

"Just because it’s made of flesh and once drew breath doesn’t mean you should cook it!" Strohl said, cautiously prodding at the violet-blue slices with a fork.

"If it’s made of flesh, why wouldn’t I cook it?" Hulkenberg said, gleefully stuffing a huge piece into her mouth.

"I worry that one day you’re going to eat all of us. And you never answered me as to what that is! Actually, don’t. I think I’m better off not knowing."

"I uh… see Hulkenberg cooked today...?" Will interjected.

"What gave you the hint?" Strohl asked, still turning his nose up at the mysterious indigo flesh.

Hulkenberg took no offense to their apprehension, nor did she bother to further acknowledge their comments. She was far too busy chowing down on the mystery meat to care.

"I... think I’ll pass," Will said.

"I’m not hungry myself," Gallica said.

"More for me," Hulkenberg said in between bites.

"And uh...you can have mine too," Strohl said, sliding over his portion to her.

Though this meant missing out on a meal, it was probably the much safer option compared to eating mystery jerky. Will could also cook for himself, should he desire, but the pungent odor of Hulkenberg's "delicacy" had diminished his appetite for the time being. Ultimately, missing a single meal was better than ingesting sautéed parasites. Will’s sad little elda stomach was nothing compared to the iron stomach of Hulkenberg. And he had no interest in his glorious downfall against Count Louis being as a result of food poisoning.

Strohl and Will exchanged silent glances and nodded. Both of them had the same idea of preserving their internal organs as opposed to a gamble on diseases.

The air was stagnant with the stench of the cooked...animal...thing...so Will climbed up onto the deck for some fresh air. It was most refreshing, even when the repetitive scenery once more grew to be a stale sight. He held his head up high as the wind blew through his hair and Gallica held onto his shoulder desperate to not be flung off. As far as his eyes could see, there was nothing but trees, dirt, and more trees that lie ahead of them. The sky was just about an uneventful as the land; not a cloud was in sight and birds were few and far in between. Nothing but smooth sailing towards the pier, at least that’s what one could hope for. With lack of a better plan to pass the time, Will leaned up against the guard rail and simply took in the sights, or lack thereof.

A breath of fresh air was perhaps what he needed to clear his mind and help him think of something other than plans to get close to Louis. There also weren’t many means of entertainment around the gauntlet runner in the first place. Granted, it was built with a priority on transportation, but if they had any plans to use it in the long-term, they would have to figure out something to keep their minds occupied. One can only take so much sightseeing on long journeys before the mind begins the wander.

But for the time being, Will closed his eyes and allowed his worries of Louis to be carried away with the wind.

After a while, he realized that the sun’s rays were no longer engulfing his body in a gentle warmth. Was he really out for so long that the sun had finally set? Will opened his eyes, and sure enough, it was still midafternoon and the sun was as beaming as ever. It couldn’t be a particularly large cloud either, as the sky was clear as far as his eyes could see.

Clear, with the exception of-

"Look sharp, kids!" Neuras shouted, "We got one runnin’, er, flyin’ hot on our tail!"

...a gauntlet runner flying directly overhead.

None of the participants in the race appeared rich enough to afford such a mechanism, as it appeared that the majority seemed barely able to afford what they had currently. With almost absolute certainty, Will could narrow down the list of suspects to someone who was, in fact, not part of the race. It couldn’t be someone part of the church or nobility as they have been lying low due to recent happenings. A grand entrance would be questionably out of character for them.

But there was one man who was awfully fond of making a grand impression.

Neuras halted the gauntlet runner, for as fast as it was, there was no way it could stand up to a behemoth that had conquered the air. At this rate, a confrontation was inevitable, and Will had mere minutes to return inside and gather his equipment.

Strohl and Hulkenberg were long ahead of him, having grabbed their weapons and bolted out. With Gallica’s wings barely able to keep up with him, Will hastily stumbled through the runner to grab his blade. The others were well ahead of him by now, and he practically came tumbling out and rolling onto the field behind them. Quite the grand entrance for a future king, one may argue.

None of them could be sure what, or who, was going to emerge from that fortress of a gauntlet runner. An unspoken consensus had already been reached amongst them all, however.

Meeting their sworn enemy this early in the race, without him even being a direct participant, sounded almost too farfetched. Too many questions remained for it to be a truly reasonable possibility. Why would he stop in the path of Will over anyone else running. Why not target someone who is far more favorable and not already at a blatant disadvantage for being an elda? Somehow, despite the contradictions that disproved his worries, Will felt his weapon quivering in his hand and his legs becoming gelatinous.

If it really were him, against all odds, it was no way to act in front of the man he was desperately trying to impress. Attention was what he wanted, but it had to be purely admiration and not repugnance. Will could not afford to show any flaws in his form, as Louis would not permit such a weakling to work under his direct command. He had to pull himself together, especially if it was that dastardly count waiting for him within that gauntlet runner.

Deep breath, deep breath....

Will steadied himself. If it wasn’t him, and his overreactive thoughts only further stirred the unreasonable anxiety, he didn’t want to make a complete fool out of himself. His nerves have not gone unnoticed by his allies, however, and Strohl could see that his partner was struggling to maintain his composure.

"...You good?" Strohl asked. "You look like you’re about to crack."

Will’s face turned red.

"Huh? I’m fine. Just caught off guard, that’s all."

Strohl wasn’t very convinced, but he had bigger problems to concern himself with at the moment. The gravity of the situation became clear once they had caught sight of who was marching toward them from the opposing gauntlet runner.

Strohl began to boil over with rage.

Hulkenberg tensed up and braced herself.

Will’s eyes went wide with utter disbelief.

Who he saw before him was a familiar face that he was far better off without. Will’s heart began to thump out of his chest, and all of his effort to quell his nervous body was for naught.

Approaching them was a long-haired woman clad in red and two paripus men. But misery loves company, and the ringleader of this small gang was the most unpleasant sight of them all.

A figure so imposing, that Will couldn’t miss him even if the division of heaven and hell stood between them.

With no regard for the presence of Will’s party, his ice-cold eyes met Will’s gaze immediately. He must’ve derived a twisted sense of pleasure from seeing a candidate at the mercy of someone already so far ahead with the favor of the people. As nothing more than an elda nobody, the king’s magic did not deem Will worthy of its protection, leaving him wide open for a ploy by any to assassinate him on the spot. And if it were anyone who would partake in foul play to eliminate the competition, it would most certainly be Louis.

Will attempted to steady himself to look at least somewhat threatening, but his intimidation was only met with Louis curiously narrowing his eyes.

"My dear, must you greet me with such hostility?" Louis said, his devilish fangs protruding through his smirk.