#•. ✶ 「 threads┊asra 」* . •

[starsgift]

✦.  —   Asra should've known better than to assume their 'days without incident' chart wouldn't be bounced back to zero today. Honestly, that was a very flawed assumption on their own end. They had NO IDEA the full extent of the deity's outburst, but they'd try:

❛  Can we maybe go back to the room? ❜ 

[mysticsect]

"i have had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn't it. " Final Form to Asra. Probably about a date they're on or something.

✦.  — It wasn't terribly often Asra felt like spending what LITTLE free time they had left being social, but they wanted to spend time with Eshu. And spend time they did. All things considered, overstimulation aside, the evening had gone great; maybe that's why it took Asra a moment to really process what Final Form was saying.

When the words DID register, the child-like deity was met with a deadpanned stare.

❛ ....and what's that supposed to mean? ❜

@sacredstarliight

[bottomvalerius]

damien is the "came back but came back wrong" character; donna is the "did not want to come back but is back now" character lmfao

[mysticsect]

✦.  — Asra set her phone down, looking to Jinx as they floated from their spot. Rigid routines could exhaust anyone, so she wasn't shocked that Jinx was as overstimulated as they were.

The repetition made each day start to blend together. It was... odd knowing that it's already been two years of them living in Eshu's temples with them. Time was flying in a way they did NOT consent to.

❛ I know it's a lot. We're almost to Solstice time, so you'll get SO MANY cool gifts from your followers. Just gotta do god stuff until then. ❜

♕. ☼ ☽.- The tiny deity floats from their spot, their body limp like deadweight as they did. Something about their expression and body language expressed how TIRED they felt currently.

The last few weeks had been pretty intensive leading up to the mid forms week long festivities---along with the season of the winter solstice soon after. Which while being Jinx's FAVORITE time of year--was also their BUSIEST.

" Everythin' too MUCH Asrie. I don't wanna do all the things--and then go to bed and do all the things AGAIN."

" I wanna do GAMES and get gifts already!!! "

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Can I request headcanons for the MC walking beside the M6 (maybe around the market) and suddenly saying: "can you hold something for me?" And when the LI agrees and extends their hand, MC places their hand over the M6's?

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Tricking M6 into holding hands

Julian: blushes, resumes walking, and then starts waxing lyrical about the priceless treasure he's been entrusted with carrying

Asra: has both arms extended for whatever you need, ends up holding both your hands and sweeps you into an impromptu waltz

Nadia: promptly uses her advantage to kiss your hand and thread your arm through hers. uses that to keep you tucked against her side

Muriel: goes red to his ears, keeps walking, and then mumbles something about how "I could carry more of you ... if you wanted."

Portia: "Ohhh, you tricky thing!" giggles and flirts with you for the rest of the walk, and tells you her rates are one kiss per ten minutes

Lucio: keeps standing with his hand out because he's waiting for you to let go and reveal what you've put in his palm. splutters and blushes

[vesuvianhermitcrabs]

Could I request a hc for an Mc with wings?

The Arcana M6 When MC Has Wings

Sorry this took me SO DAMN LONG to write <33 Also for the hc I kind of just assumed they were the generic bird wings

Nadia

thinks you're like an angel. to her, you have the same allure as a romanticism art piece

tends to find herself reaching out to stroke one of your wings when nervous or put in a troubling position

runs her hands through the feathers and gently removes any debris or loose plumage

will get a pretty garment commissioned to adorn them

speaking of garments, you are going to receive so many backless clothes (blouses, suits, dresses, vests, coats, etc.)

the wings make it a little difficult to spoon though (she is subjected to eternally being the snuggled instead of the snuggler. as long as it's you, she supposes)

Asra

it was a nightmare trying to help you renavigate living with huge bird wings

it was hard enough teaching you to be a human being again. teaching you to not whack things off shelves with your wings when you live in a tiny space and literal flying? forget it

they still managed to persevere because they love and care about you

he is the expert in human feather care because of how long he looked after you, your plumage is almost always soft and shiny

he loves the sound of your feathers rustling, it's a sign that you're present and with him

if you'll let them, they'll paint and thread tinsel through your wings. one of their favourite ways to spend the evening is turning you into a walking piece of art

snuggles you to no end, he lives for soft bird wing hugs

buys you baubles and such to hang on your wings while he's travelling

you're so whimsical creechur it literally explodes him

Julian

he is excruciatingly torn

on one hand, your anatomy is fascinating and he wants to sketch and feel and explore every inch of your wings (from a scientific point of view, of course....)

on the other hand he is a hopeless romantic wimp and he will inevitably get lost in the romance of having a winged partner

"oh, MC, sweep me off my feet and fly me away–"

he's only half joking but if you actually did do that he would probably cling to you like a fridge magnet in fear

randomly asks you the most unhinged bird related questions imaginable (eg. "if you had a child would it hatch out of an egg?")

Muriel

when he first met you he still didn't trust you

...but you reminded him of the chickens and he was defrosting quicker than he would have liked to

you noticed he always avoided touching your wings though

birds' wings are small and delicate, and you also seemed small and delicate to him so does that mean you're (small+delicate)²? he was freaking out a little

you'll need to reassure him

when he reaches a certain point of comfortability with you, he sometimes runs his hands through the feathers (he is so gentle)

if you want, you can wrap your wings around him randomly just to watch him malfunction

not sure if he should be giving eggs to you

Portia

she used to feel really unspecial next to you. you're magic, you're beautiful/handsome, and you have wings? this is ridiculous

nowadays she feels special because she has you and she knows she's one of a kind (self-love woo)

however she still wants you to fly her around vesuvia

unlike Julian she actually doesn't shit herself when you actually do fly around carrying her

she's small enough so that you can completely envelop her in your wings and she adores it

helps you with wing care and wash days if you ever need it, buys literal gallons of bird safe soaps for you

Lucio

alright what the shit

he wants wings?? is the wing distribution system broken or something????? where did they come from?????????

for him, the appeal of wings mainly comes from the fact they look cool. he's not overly keen on the whole flying or general upkeep aspect of being a winghaver

having a partner with wings works too, he supposes

morga said something about them "being too heavy if you needed to be agile while fighting", but you think she approves?? (she likes birds)

"mc... I hope this isn't too personal, but was one of your parents a bird?" (he doesn't actually care if it's too personal he still expects an answer)

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: Midnight Wanderings

This one takes a little explaining, but here's Meleia's familiar, Forge the Fennec Fox, exploring Asra's oasis!

(I had way too much fun with colored pencils on this one. Alas my phone camera killed the quality lol)

So for the backstory behind this one, my friend and I have a headcanon that all the familiars have their own magic talent. Faust, for example, can canonically slip between the mortal world and the Magical Realms. You can even count Pepi being able to just speak to humans in the upright ending of Portia's route as a magic talent.

In that thread, Forge's talent is dreamwalking. He basically watches over Meleia's dreams. And since we have canonical proof that dreams can lead to the Realms or to someone's Gate, odds are that Forge got to see Asra's oasis at some point!

[snobgoblin]

NO ASRA PLEEEEEEAAAASE DO NOT DO THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW I'M HANGING ON BY A THREAD AS IS 😭 I'm so sorryyyy

[starsgift]

she shouldn't even be CLOSE to asra after everything that's happened, but she's sure that anyone else would give her bad advice that'd get her killed or worse - " hey - "

she glances away, searching for anyone who'd spot her close to asra again ; " i have to talk to the final form later, i'm - uh. any tips on not dying ? "

✦.  —  ❛  Uhhhh... have to, or want to? I know for a fact they didn't invite you for a one on one conversation. You're not exactly a part of their following or inner circle.. ❜

Asra was acutely aware of the fact that Eshu already didn't LIKE Daiten (it certainly helped that they spent a majority of their days with the god), there was no way this 'meeting' was mandatory. Eshu would have COMPLAINED about it. Was she crazy? In terms of "staying away from Eshu", Asra was hardly one to talk. But the notion that Daiten wanted to speak to the deity's FULL FORM after all of this?

❛  Final Form is violent as a warning – and they're HARDER to read than the others. They're like that with me too, and they LIKE me. ❜

They'd shake their head, adjusting what looked like a bag of sweets in their grasp. Of course, they KNEW they couldn't make anyone stay away. But they didn't want to see her get hurt killed either.

❛  I'm NOT joking. If you talk to him, ESPECIALLY UNINVITED –– you're GOING to get yourself killed. PLEASE stay away from them.. Dai. ❜

[rhazberriquartz]

Take The Spring: Swap!Arcana AU

AU by: @drakonishe go support them!

Writing: Rhazberriquartz

Note: This isn't edited or beta read. So, ignore my atrocious grammar errors. I have nothing posted about Rosie here. So, ha good luck. Also, big love letter to American Gods in a way. If you know you know.

The masquerade had been a disaster. My former wife, whom I had mourned had become our greatest enemy and the biggest threat Vesuvia has ever seen. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as she left with the members of her court. They held no loyalty to me or the city. But, as I watched her slink away with the others I noted a very important piece of her court missing.

“It couldn’t be…”

I looked at Andrea and the others, my hand threaded through my hair.

“What are we going to do?!” Andrea was distressed as we all were.

“I don’t know. This isn’t good.” Vlastomil Mused as he tried calming Agata.

I could barely hear anyone over my own thoughts as my mind reeled with possibilities. It wasn’t until Devarshi pulled me out of my own head that I realized I had been dissociated.

“You noticed too?” They asked me gently.

I nodded, “And I let my wife… Twenty One forgive me. I’ll be back!”

I turned on my heel and I sprinted for the terrarium room my wife kept her in. Did Nadia truly leave behind such an important piece of her plan? Or did she see herself above it? And how could I have not known? How could I have let the others torment her so? I felt guilt bubbling up in my belly like a geyser about to blow.

I let this happen. All of her approaches. Her clues. I ignored them! She knew what Nadia was up to and tried telling me. 

She was here.

When I reached the terrarium I entered hoping the half baked plan I had would work. That she would agree to it. I looked around the terrarium in wonder. Her work had always been glorious. She and Valerius always made a team even the Gods would blush at. It showed even now. Monstrous flowers and plants bloomed in every corner of this room. It was almost unnatural.

But, I knew she was here waiting. If my theory was right - she was on our side and has been waiting for me to notice. To approach and ask for help.

“Ms. Lovecraft?” my voice echoed through the room, bioluminescent plants lit up around me.

She could eat me alive if she wished. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw her sitting on a bench. My shoulders fell as I noted the gentle smile she gave me.

“Please, I’m sorry. You gave me so many warning signs and I ignored them.”

I thought back to the books and notes she left. She never spoke a word. But, I had a feeling that was the work of Asra and Nadia, and the collar he forced her to wear. I could feel my knees shaking as I recalled the first time I saw Nadia sick her on some opponents in the battle field.

“You know what happened?” I asked.

Her brow quirked and she smirked looking at the view above us and then back to me.

“Ms. Lo- Rosie…” I carefully approached noting the moving flora around us, “I apologize for my discrepancies. I know who and what you are now. And… I need your help. We need your help.”

I watched her body language as she leaned back into her seat watching me intently.

“I…” I was looking for the words, but was failing to find what I wanted to say.

When Nadia said she had The World in her hands. I thought it was figurative. But, I now knew she was speaking in literal terms. I kneeled in front of her and bowed my head. Tears welling up in my eyes. I was about to speak again when I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“I want to make a deal. Please, I wouldn’t ask for your help if this wasn’t important. And… I don’t expect you to accept. Not after I- I let them treat you the way they did.” I looked up.

“I’ll free you and serve you from here on out. But, please help us conquer Nadia and the others.”

My platinum eyes met her amber eyes. A smile appeared on her face as the flowers in the room bloomed. I took that as a yes as I kissed her hand making the pact.

She gently pulled on the collar around her neck. With my left hand I grabbed where the lock was and squeezed it as tightly as possible, breaking it. It fell to the ground with a clunk.

“We have to find them. I… I know what must be done.”I looked down ashamed before standing up.

“My tribe… we used to fast. A form of ancient prayer to the deities we worshipped.” I watched her face contort into a dark smile, her eyes lighting up. “My people have never had to starve, to fight to survive in such a manner.”

I took another breath, “And while I do pride myself in taking care of my people and creating such a place where that hardship is not needed… right now - we need a motivator. My people will forgive me once they are aware of the seriousness of what’s happening.”

I held out my hands and let her place hers in mine. I knew if we did this it wouldn’t be for long. So, I held no qualms in inconveniencing my people. And by forcing people to pray to her it would increase her strength. And she would need it for this fight.

“It will draw them out and restore your magic in full. I will take full blame. I’m so sorry…”

There was a soft huff, “Sacrificing your clean name and reputation for me. What a dedication my dear starlight.”

My eyes widened as she spoke. I had never heard her voice before today and it was worth the years of waiting.

“Let’s go.” She said leading the way.

I kept up pace. I felt the ground shake with each step she took. Not even in her true form and it was affecting our surroundings. Had the collar dampened her magic? When we got to the main ballroom we passed the others heading outside.

“Montag what’s going on?” Devarshi asked.

“Rosie and I know how to draw them out, but…” I started.

“You’re not…” Valerius stared at me wide eyed before his gaze moved to Rosie who was in front of the steps to the palace.

“Montag! This will devastate the entire city!” Agata protested.

“No, he’s onto something. If she drains the city… it will take almost all magic with it. Which means…” Andrea started.

“They won’t be able to hide or draw magic from this place.” Vlastomil stated, “Montag how did you…”

“I ignored a lot during my time as Count. And even more when everything started happening. I let her be abused by the others. Thinking it was family bonding.” I stated as we watched as the spring disappeared. Color draining from Vesuvia.

Then her form shifted. Bones and muscle cracked and changed her form shifting into one I knew all too well. Teeth bared and claws dug into the ground below as she drained the magic from the city. There was a roar almost like the sound of a whale in distress as the flowers that adorned her bloomed.

I could hear whispered panic as Rosie left only existing produce and food.

“You better be right about this.” Andrea said, looking at me.

“I have to be…” I swallowed watching as Rosie’s true form let out another cry before I spoke.

“Citizens of Vesuvia. I have taken the magic and spring until we have Captured Nadia and her Court. It turns out she isn’t the ally she promised to be. And The World has agreed to help, but we must work together! This is the only way.” I let my voice boom though it was filled with regret.

I could hear the chatter. Most folks seemed to show understanding and agreed to help, while a few did throw some colorful names my way. I looked at Rosie watching her form shift back into something more human. I could see the colors swirling around her, whorls of magic zipped about as she bowed to the citizens.

She looked like herself. Her Rose Crown was in full bloom and the tendrils adorned with teeth no longer hidden in hair and ribbons. She was no longer weak and frail. I offered her my hand as she took it. I prayed I was right in doing this.

And in the end I was.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: Guilty Pleasures (poorly doodled)

Julian

Likes his food very, very salty, and in an effort not to be a burden on anyone who cooks for him, carries at least one pouch or shaker of salt around in his coat. It doesn't matter who cooked it or what the dish is, it's the same routine every. Freaking. Time. He takes one bite, exclaims over how delicious it is, pulls out his pouch, shakes at least half a teaspoon over it, and eats the rest with gusto.

You have tried to confiscate it before important dinner events. It's impossible to find and only resulted him suggesting a body search.

Asra

Gets the midnight munchies like clockwork and it's the only thing about them that follows a predictable schedule. It doesn't matter how much or little he's eaten that day or how busy he's been or what he's been up to - the clock chimes twelve, he pauses whatever he is (or isn't) doing, and the stove salamander prepares itself to assist him in crafting some new culinary abomination. You're welcome to join in!

You did try locking all the food in the pantry once to see what they would do. His response was to playfully threaten to eat you instead

Nadia

Has an obsession for things that go "click". The keys on her parlor pipe organ. The little gears and cogs she tinkers with in her free time. The jewels on the hairpieces she wears over her ears. One time you accidentally burned through half her day because she stopped by while you were threading charmed beads, and she was so hypnotized by the cathartic swishes and clicks she missed three meetings.

You did try taking her to a factory with lots of loud clicks in it, only to find out that it was the wrong type of click and she needed to leave

Muriel

Loves squishy things he can sink his hands into so much he's convinced he's not allowed to enjoy them. Thick moss. Large, spongy mushrooms. Soft, dense furs that have just been shaken and fluffed out. It's so hard not to call him catlike on cleaning days, because his response to the furs that have hung in the breeze and sunlight all day is to sit down, sink his palms in, and knead for several minutes.

Once he found a part of your body with enough flesh on it for the soft skin to well up between his fingers, and he fixated on it for a week

Portia

Likes sniffing coffee beans when she needs a pick-me-up. She hates the bitterness of the flavor of it, and she doesn't need the level of caffeine that drinking it would give her, but the smell of freshly ground coffee beans is exactly the afternoon boost she craves. You didn't know about this until you walked in one day, just in time to see her enthusiastically faceplant into a bowl of them with a loud snort.

Nobody knows what she does with the beans after she's ground and sniffed them. You suspect she uses them as garden fertilizer

Lucio

At first you're convinced he doesn't have any guilty pleasures because he simply doesn't feel guilt for a good time in the first place. You are wrong. On the rare occasion that he fully removes his prosthetic, he likes doodling a pair of googly eyes onto what's left of his shoulder and making it "argue" with the hand on his metal arm. They're named "Willy" and "Spikes" and have their own voices.

You walked in on this once when you stopped to have the elbow piece fixed, to Lucio sitting shirtless on the floor debating cookie flavors

[paperstarwriters]

I’m fully aware that it’s fine and completely normal for a non-binary person to use he/him pronouns but I can’t help but headcannon that Asra uses he/they pronouns where he encourages most people he interacts with to refer to him by he/him pronouns but allows people that are close to him to refer to him with they/them pronouns.

Specifically, Muriel is allowed to refer to him with They/them pronouns.

I can’t help but imagine it as something that could’ve carried over from his parents ore something—like maybe they referred to him with they/them pronouns until he decided on a gender or maybe while reading through some books Asra read about someone (likely the Magician lol) who had they/them pronouns and wanted to try it out. Only when they were taken from him people referred to him with he/him pronouns, and maybe he decided he was comfortable enough in those pronouns. But when he met with and became friends with Muriel I imagine he mentioned once that his parents referred to him with they/them pronouns and Muriel asked if Asra wanted him to use those pronouns for him and Asra let’s him.

And from then on it just becomes a little thing between them. Muriel refers to Asra with they/them pronouns but no one else does. And it stays that way for a long time until MC arrives. And Muriel finds himself kinda bitter that MC gets to be a part of it as well, but he manages to get over it. Until, that is, Asra starts to get closer to MC and Muriel feels left behind. Then it begins to fester and Muriel clings to referring to Asra with they/them pronouns as if it were the last remaining thread that made him and Ara friends, even though it isn’t.

And then maybe one day after MC’s death, Muriel meets Julian, and Julian mentions that he’s close to Asra, but he keeps referring to Asra with he/him pronouns and Muriel immediately recognizes that whatever is going in between Julian and Asra is not really that close. Initially Muriel finds confidence that he’s able to tell and that he knows, but maybe he gets irritated when Julian keeps going on as if the relationship was that close.

And then the possible devastation of Asra as he teaches MC about basic things, but neglects to re-teach about his pronouns until MC already learns through listening with others to refer to Asra as he/him, which just makes Asra feel so distant from MC.

And idk maybe he even brings the problem to Muriel, as he vents about his struggles while Muriel sits there glaring at the ground wanting to say “see? That’s how you made me feel!” But never having the heart to do so because he wasn’t about to add to Asra’s griefs when they already has so many problems on their plate.

Anyways idk I mostly just like it because I like those secret friendship codes between two characters lol

Of course my only issue here is that since I write largely Muriel fanfics it feels like I’m sidelining the whole he/him side of his pronouns lol

[mysticsect]

✦.  —  ❛ Wh – ❜ And suddenly the notebook was snatched from their desk, they'd reach after it to no avail. Wherever it floated off to, it's gone now.

Asra WOULD expend more energy on being shocked or confused, but they literally live in a temple with a GOD. And quite frankly? Their notebooks disappearing into the nth dimension was probably the least odd thing that could happen to them at this point.

The fact that the notebook survived THIS long was more surprising to them than it floating out of their reach.

They'd look around for something, any indication of who the perpetrator was. Or rather, which form of them it was. Though, they did have a pretty strong hunch. ❛ Hello? I know you're here... somewhere. I don't know what you think my notebook did to you. ❜ ....they have to get ready to go soon.

♕. ☼ ☽.- The notebook has started to move---and thusly float out of reach of Asra, and towards an unknown location. This has nothing to do with them. In fact, stars isn't even there. Nope. Their shadow form isn't hiding behind the desk.

you don't know them shut the hell up Asra.

[into-the-daniverse]

Without You Without Them | Alec’s Prologue | Part 5

In which, Alec discovers something from her past, meets with the courtiers, one of whom seems to know more about her than they let on, and is finally able to recount her adventure over the last few days to Asra.

Previous Part

Title: Without You Without Them by boygenius 5.3k words

Much to her dismay and increasing annoyance, Alec had been right in thinking that something—or someone, in this case—would be waiting for her in the city the next day, as she opened her shop door to none other than Julian Devorak, who looked like he hadn’t been planning on getting caught by her again. For a moment, Alec’s mind went back to the information they had received the day before, definitive proof that they had known each other before she lost her memories. A hundred questions about what that woman had said whirled through her mind, but she forced them all down to focus on the issue at hand.

Planting herself firmly in front of the door, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Julian, I know I lock every door of this shop three times before I leave, and I know there’s also a protection spell over the whole thing. How do you keep getting in?”

“Ah, well, that’s simple, really.” Julian straightened himself, though not without a nervous cough. “I, uh, I have a key.”

She raised one dark eyebrow. “A key.”

“Yes!” He fished around in his pockets for a moment before handing it to her. “Here. You can keep it—I don’t need to be using it again.”

“Asra didn’t tell me he gave a key for our shop to a suspected murderer.”

“Well, we did cover the fact that there’s a lot that wit—magician doesn’t tell people, didn’t we?”

“There’s a lot you’re not telling me either—you managed to weasel your way out of telling me anything worthwhile yesterday because of the guards, but I will not let that happen again today—"

“Don’t you think it’s unwise to be caught with me standing outside your shop in broad daylight?” Julian shook his head. “You should probably just let me go.”

Alec didn’t budge. “How do I know you haven’t stolen anything? You’ve broken in twice now.”

“You would take me for a thief?” Julian gasped dramatically, draping himself against the door frame. “A murderer I may be, but a thief? Never.” When Alec didn’t answer save for arching her eyebrow higher, he sighed, taking off his coat. “Fine. Search me then, if it will satisfy your curiosity.”

She rolled her eyes and stomped one foot on the ground, anklets chiming as she stirred up a small whirlwind which enveloped the doctor, effectively turning his pockets inside-out and ensuring that he wasn’t hiding anything she couldn’t see. Julian yelped as the wind grew around him, and the moment it died, he stared wide-eyed at Alec. His hair was even more wild than it had been before, and she bit back a laugh as she smoothed her own skirt back down.

“Okay, I’m satisfied.” Alec reached out to do the clasp on his coat around his neck again, patting his chest once before stepping back, down the stairs. “But gods help me, Julian, if you find a way to break into this shop again, I—"

She noticed he was still staring wide-eyed at something past her and stopped, turning around with dread in her chest. But what happened next surprised her more than anything she could have thought of.

Watching Portia pull Julian after her, both of them nearly in tears, made something twist in Alec’s chest. She was jealous of them, though she knew she shouldn’t be. She had no intention of telling the Countess about what she had seen, but she did want to talk to Portia about it, at some point. About the feeling of finding your family after so long without them.

Deep in her musings, she almost stepped on a small leather pouch as she went into the shop, but stopped at the last second and picked it up. It smelled strongly of myrrh, a protection spell. The smell jogged something in her mind, but she couldn’t grab onto the thread quickly enough before it was gone.

With a sigh, she tucked the pouch into the folds of her skirt, another outfit gifted by the Countess. The first thing she did upon entering the shop was to go right up to her room and grab a couple of dupattas, one to wrap around her face for when she went to the square again, and another to take back the jar of swordfish spices she had mentioned to the Countess.

Walking into the kitchen, she rummaged around the cabinets, pushing past dozens of jars with brightly colored spices, humming to herself as she searched for the specific mixture she wanted. It was a bit buried, not something either her or Asra frequently used, but it was there, and she pulled it down to wrap in the dupatta when the writing on the jar caught her eye.

The words read, in Prakran, Dia’s Spiced Swordfish. As in, it was made specifically for someone named Dia—or, could it be for Nadia, the Countess, herself? She had thought it odd to have such a particular seasoning in her shop, but who could have left it here?

Alec’s mind went back to the first night the Countess had shown up at her shop. Between pangs of her headache, the Countess had remarked that the handwriting on some of the music lying about the back room looked like it belonged to her cousin. And the handwriting on the jar—

Almost dropping the jar in her haste, Alec ran into the back room of the shop, and leafed through the sheet music still out and disorganized until she found a piece that looked familiar. It was a piece she loved to play, but she knew she hadn’t written it, based on the handwriting. Neat, elegant, looping handwriting that matched what was on the jar.

Fighting through the beginnings of a headache, Alec struggled to make sense of the information in front of her. The Countess had thought that the handwriting was that of her cousin’s. She said that it was unlikely, as she would have known he was in Vesuvia. But the jar of spices—it was labelled for her. And the same person who had written the music, had left the spices in the shop, long before Alec could remember.

She couldn’t remember, but someone else could.

Turning down the hallway to the kitchen, she called out softly, “Missy?” A warm hum filled her mind, and she opened the stove with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

The shop’s stove salamander blinked their big dark eyes at her, a gentle smile on their face. What is it, child?

“I have a question, well, a few. About something from… the past?”

I will answer what I can, without endangering you.

Scooping the salamander from the ashes in the stove, Alec carried them to the back room, where she had left the music and the jar. She set them down on the table and watched as they slowly crawled over to the items. “Did the same person who wrote that music make that spice mixture?”

Yes.

“Were… are they related to the Countess?”

Missy paused, blinking at Alec. Yes, they are.

Her headache grew stronger as she pushed forward, questions spilling from her lips. “Why are these things here? Did I know them? Did Asra know them?”

The salamander put their little front foot on her hand, glowing a soothing blue that washed calm over Alec. Yes, you both knew them. Him. And he lived here.

“What…” Alec took a deep breath. “What was—is his name?”

There was a silence in her mind, and then a soft: I can’t tell you that.

Alec wanted to cry, either from pain or from frustration or both. Missy’s body glowed again, taking a little bit of the pain away, but she wasn’t done. She had just one more question, she just wanted to know one more thing… “Who was he to me?”

Crawling slowly up her arm, dark eyes never leaving hers, Missy’s voice appeared in her mind again with one word.

Family.

Alec closed her eyes, exhaling as she felt Missy’s magic wash over her to soothe her headache, but a familiar voice made her eyes fly open.

“You’re a part of our family now, kid.”

The shop was empty. There was no one around her who could have spoken, but she knew she heard the voice. And she knew she knew the voice. Worrying her bottom lip, she looked around the room, sheet music scattered around her. She took the music written by the Countess’s cousin—no, someone from her family—and folded it gently, tucking it inside her shirt, by her heart. She closed her eyes again and thought back to her dream from the day before.

She had a family. Or, at the very least, she had one person out there waiting for her. Maybe two, since the person in her dream didn’t seem like the same person who wrote the sheet music. Maybe she even made music with the person who wrote it. Maybe he would be able to help her find her voice again. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she sniffled quietly, still feeling Missy’s magic around her.

“I wish he was here.”

I know, little one. I know.

Keeping her eyes closed, Alec drifted into a shallow sleep, just until she heard a distant clock tolling the hour, reminding her of Portia’s announcement in the square. She jumped up, almost flinging Missy in the process. Kissing the salamander apologetically on their head, she set them back in their stove before racing out of the shop. She had to turn back around to grab the swordfish spices, and then almost forgot to lock the shop up three times, so by the time she reached the square, she was completely frazzled.

She ducked into the shadows to fix her dupatta, wrapping it almost too tightly around her face, listening to Portia’s loud, chipper voice calling out to the people gathered in the square, informing them about the Masquerade. The energetic hum of the crowd only intensified the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she shrunk even further back. Her hands fell to her pockets instinctively, and she felt her fingers brush the pouch of myrrh she had tucked away.

Then, the smell of myrrh came from behind her, stronger than before, and when she glanced over her shoulder, there was a large figure cloaked in even deeper shadows, and they started to disappear down a different alley, away from the square.

She felt something stir in her mind, and remembered the scent of myrrh clinging to her clothes as she left the shop the day after Asra left. She hadn’t seen anyone, and maybe it had just been a normal memory lapse, but her head wasn’t hurting. Which told her… maybe this was someone she knew, someone she remembered. Setting her jaw, she quickly followed after the figure’s lumbering pace, determined to not lose another potential memory just yet. Once she reached the figure, she skidded to a stop in front of them, and they took a stumbling step backward, clearly caught off guard. She ignored their reaction and furrowed her eyebrows, voice accusing. “How did you do that?”

The figure blinked stormy green eyes at her from under their hood. “…What?” Their voice rumbled low, and it made Alec feel like she was supposed to be frightened of them, but she wasn’t.

“You made me forget you—you were at the shop the other day, but I didn’t remember you. How did you do that?”

They frowned. “You… no. That’s impossible.” The last part felt like it was directed more at themself than her, but she pushed forward.

“What is?”

Mouth open slightly, they gaped at her for a moment before shaking their head roughly and turning from her. “Go away.”

Wasn’t this someone she knew before? Why weren’t they trying to make her remember? “No!” Her voice sounded desperate, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. “Please, who are you?” The figure started walking away again, faster this time, and she struggled to keep up through the twists and turns of the roads. “Wait, please! Did Asra send you?”

Finally, the figure stopped, but they didn’t turn to look at her. “…yes.”

“Is he… are you friends?”

The figure nodded ever so slightly. “He’s… my only friend.”

“Mine too,” she murmured. “He must trust you, a lot.”

They were silent, but it felt like they wanted to say something else. Before they could, a warning was called, and Alec just managed to side-step a rogue cart, the owner racing down the street after it. When she looked back, the figure was gone, and her frustration quickly changed into confusion, and then an empty resignation. She didn’t remember why she had left the marketplace, but maybe that was for the better. She glanced over her shoulder before sighing and making her way back to the square to meet up with Portia.

****

“…lec, Alec?”

She blinked, looking up from her lap. They were both on the wagon back to the palace, and Portia was watching her with a nervous, concerned look.

“Are you alright? Any… incidents back at the shop?”

Alec stared at her for a moment before remembering Julian’s appearance. It felt like days ago that he had been breaking into her shop, again, and Portia dragged him away. She shook her head. “Um, no. Everything’s fine. I…” She pulled out the jar of swordfish spice, holding it out to Portia. “I found the spice for the Countess.”

“Oh, great!” Portia lit up. “She’ll be happy to hear that, I’m sure.”

Nodding distantly, Alec glanced out of the window, watching the crowds thin the further they got from the marketplace. Portia cleared her throat, and Alec jumped a little. “Sorry.”

Portia laughed gently. “It’s alright. I just wanted to see if you’d like me to go over the courtiers with you before you met them.”

Oh, right. Alec nodded again, but leaned closer to Portia, giving her her full attention.

By the time they reached the palace, Portia had explained the courtiers to Alec, their names, their positions, and the general public opinion surrounding them—which was largely negative.

“Really, you only have to pay attention to Valerius. Milady minds him the most, though—” she looked around the wagon as if there was someone else with them, eyes glinting mischievously. “Mira told me she has some dirt on him. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Alec giggled, a bit of anxiety dislodging from her chest. “Of course not.”

Walking to the salon, Alec thought she might wring her hands into knots. Portia had encouraged her to pull her dupatta away from her face, and she felt exposed, as if she was naked. Clutching the folds of her skirt in her fingers, she bit the inside of her cheek as Portia opened the doors of the salon and led her inside.

The soft music she heard floating down the hallway reached a crescendo as she stepped past the door, and she saw the Countess sitting behind a gleaming pipe organ, ignoring the chattering of the voice around her, room hazy with smoke. She looked up as Alec entered, fingers playing deftly across the keys, giving her a warm smile.

“Portia, introduce our guest.”

The sun starts to set, orange and pink light filtering into the salon as Portia began to introduce Alec.

She tried her best to stand still, but she couldn’t keep her hands from fidgeting at her sides, and shifting on her feet. Quickly, she scanned through the other people in the room, going over what Portia had told her, trying to identify them as best as she could. There was Procurator Volta, who was as restless as Alec felt, small fingers flitting between teacakes at lightning-fast speeds. Then Praetor Vlastomil, who reminded Alec of a worm left too long in the sun, wringing his hands as if they were jointless. Pontifex Vulgora, whose laugh had boomed off the walls when she entered, and who was giving her an unsettling, but not completely unkind grin. Then there was Quaestor Valdemar, who Alec couldn’t look at for very long without feeling a deeply unsettling chill down her spine.

Finally, her eyes caught on the Consul, and for a moment, he looked like someone else, and a great flash of pain rushed through her head. Blinking through the pain, she watched the faded blond ends of his hair change to black and back to blond again, grey-gold eyes to black and back, and the way the sun dappled across his skin looked like patterns of familiar scars.

She shook her head, and whoever the other person she had seen was gone, and only the Consul remained. But even just he was familiar. Alec knew him. She knew she knew him somehow, and judging from the way his whole body seemed to freeze in place for a moment as they locked eyes, with even his sip of wine caught on his lips, she knew he knew her too.

But before she could even think of a question to ask, the other courtiers were welcoming her, eagerly tugging at her wrists to pull her into a seat with them. She settled between the Procurator and the Pontifex, nervously trying to sink into the couch cushions as they pressed against her. As they began to question her about how the announcement went, she felt her cheeks warm, but thankfully the Countess stepped in to direct their questions.

However, when the Consul spoke, the room quieted in an uncomfortable way. Alec wasn’t sure to make of the way he was staring at her, down his nose, swirling his wine glass in his hand. He knew her, she was sure of it. From before. But he hadn’t said anything to the Countess, or, presumably, the rest of the court. All she knew now, as he circled the couch like a bird of prey, was that he didn’t like her.

“…or perhaps the witch might tell us herself.”

And she decidedly didn’t like him very much either. She bristled, eyes narrowing. “Perhaps…” she said, through gritted teeth, “don’t call me that.”

His lip curled slightly. “I misspoke. You are but an apprentice, after all.” His grey-gold eyes narrowed at her, and she narrowed her eyes right back. She could feel something impulsive biting at her tongue, but luckily the Countess stepped in, shooting the Consul a pointed look.

“If you all wanted so badly to know how that night transpired, you might have simply asked.” She shook her hair over her shoulder, fingers still dancing lightly over the piano keys as she spoke. Alec felt herself relax a little as the Countess explained the way they met, but her gaze never completely left the Consul.

He took another sip of his wine, lips pulled into a dissatisfied thin line. When the Countess paused, addressing Alec, he spoke instead, words veiled behind a sneer. “With respect, Countess, you must remember that we, your adoring court, are ever at your side. I would have thought you’d approach us with these concerns instead of resorting to consulting a common apprentice.”

Alec heard enough from him, and she stood up suddenly, ready to fight a member of the court in front of the Countess herself when she felt something hit her. She wasn’t sure if she had knocked the glass out of his hand, or if he took advantage of her movement, but either way, she was wearing the rest of his wine, feeling it drip down her chest.

The rest of the court gasped in shock, and the Countess was quick to tell them all to leave, but Alec held her stare with the Consul amongst the chaos. Now standing, she realized that he was taller than her, but only by the heels of his shoes, and that made her feel a little bit better about the wine. That, plus the fact that he looked shocked for one beat, and then his face changed.

He almost looked scared. Nervous, maybe. Then he followed the rest of the courtiers quickly, slamming the door shut behind them.

Once they were gone, Alec’s shoulders sagged, and she looked down at the ruined outfit. The Countess and Portia both approached her, the former resting her hand gently on Alec’s shoulder.

“I am sorry, Alec.” She sighed, irritated. “I do not know what came over him, but trust, I will have a word with him later.”

Alec couldn’t even look at her, feeling frustrated tears starting to well up. “These clothes… I’m sorry. They’re ruined.”

“What?” The Countess looked her up and down. “Oh, of course, but do not apologize. I hardly blame you for reacting as you did to his pettiness. We’ll fetch you something else to wear immediately.” Alec felt her gaze, and kept her eyes down, cheeks starting to burn in embarrassment. The Countess hesitated, squeezing Alec’s shoulder. “But I have taken enough liberties with your wardrobe. So please, do not hesitate. Tell me what you would like. Anything, no expense spared.”

Swallowing back her tears, Alec glanced up at the Countess, at the kind, sincere expression on her face. “Um… I’d just like to have my clothes back, please. From before.”

“I figured that’s what you’d say.” Portia’s voice from her side made Alec turn her head. The woman was giving her a similarly kind look, and looped her arm with Alec’s. Alec nodded, her lips curving up slightly.

The Countess laughed lightly, her hand leaving Alec’s shoulder. “Very well. Your comfort here is of great importance to me. Portia will escort you to your chambers. You will be bathed, and your own garments returned. I believe you will find them much as you left them.” Alec started to pull away, but the Countess continued. “Though, Alec… You are my guest of honor. You could be more selfish, if you like.”

Alec blushed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “You’re too kind to me, Countess. Thank you.”

She gave the Countess a small but grateful wave as Portia led her back to the guest wing. Once she bathed and returned to her room, she thought she would pass out immediately from the stress of the day. Before she could make it to her bed, however, her eyes caught on a parcel waiting by the window. Slowly, she unraveled the note on top of the package, and read the note from the Countess, her cheeks warming.

A gift for my dear guest, this emerald which seemed to call your name. Wear it in good health. And Alec, you may call me Nadia.

The emerald was stunning, and she absentmindedly played with the chain between her fingers, wondering exactly what kind of person the Countess—no, Nadia, was, that she’d give Alec such a fine piece of jewelry after having known her for only a few days. As she wondered, she noticed a trace of familiar magic coming from the emerald. It felt like Asra’s magic. She paused, focusing on his magic, tracing the stone with her fingertips. Maybe she could find him, somehow. Like she found Julian.

She waited for night to fall, and snuck down the hallways of the palace. She wasn’t entirely sure why she felt the need to be secretive, but it was better that she didn’t run into anyone anyway, not wanting to explain her late-night stroll. Her hair blew softly around her face in the night breeze, still a little damp from the bath, as she walked through the gardens, looking for something and nothing at the same time.

The sound of water drew her in, and she entered a clearing with a beautiful fountain. Above it stood a willow tree, and Alec’s heart leapt happily in her chest when she recognized a familiar snake draped among the branches.

“Faust!” She ran over to the fountain, stopping right under the snake with her arms outstretched. “Didn’t you go with Asra? What are you doing here?”

Faust dropped from the branches, landing in Alec’s arms, and wound herself around her shoulders, tongue tickling her cheek. Friend!

“Yes, baby. I’m so glad to see you.” Alec giggled as the snake tickled her, and sat down on the edge of the fountain, watching her wind down her arm, tongue flicking. “You have no idea how happy I am to have you here.”

She sighed, holding out the emerald necklace. Maybe Faust was the closest to Asra that she was going to get. Once she held it up however, Faust seemed to light up, investigating the necklace curiously. Alec glanced over at the fountain. Something about the water was pulling her still, and she hesitantly held the necklace over the water. When nothing happened, she let it fall, sending big ripples across the surface.

The water distorted and changed color, until even her reflection disappeared, and in its place was Asra staring back at her, a shocked look on his face. “Allie!”

“As!” She immediately leaned closer to the water, and he did too, their faces inches apart on opposite sides of the water. “How did I—or did you—?”

He laughed; a bright happy laugh that made her feel warm. “I had nothing to do with this!”

“Oh really?” She held Faust up, who waved her tail at Asra. “How did she get here then?”

His eyes lit up, and he grinned. “Good! Looks like she found you all right.” When Alec raised an eyebrow, he continued. “I wasn’t all that sure about leaving her, but after that reading you gave me… I thought I’d trust my intuition.”

“And what exactly did your intuition say?”

“That you needed her more than I did this time.”

She sighed, deep and exhausted. “Oh, you have no idea how much I needed her.”

“You know, for once I don’t think I do.” He peered over her shoulder as much as he could, eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you at the palace? You left the shop—the marketplace, even?”

“I did!” Alec grinned, immediately launching into her own colorful retelling of the events of the past few days. Asra’s reactions ranged from intrigued, to shocked, to horrified, to annoyed, to stunned as she explained how she had ended up at the palace.

When she got to the part about the Consul, Asra almost choked with laughter. “Oh, I know someone who’ll be furious with him for that.” He said it absentmindedly, as if he didn’t even realize he had.

Alec almost asked him who he was talking about, before she stilled, remembering one more thing. “As, I had a dream.” She paused, eyebrows knitting together. “Actually, they said I visited their dream. Anyway, I met someone. From my memories.”

“You did?” Asra suddenly became serious and sat up straighter, studying her face as she spoke. “What do you remember? Who was it?”

“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “They never said their name, and they wouldn’t let me see their face. But when they held me—I knew them. They had scars all over their arms that I remembered. I woke up and I remembered that I saw them, and what they told me. And then I thought I saw someone with similar scars walking through the gardens last night.” A drop of water landed on the back of her hand, and she realized she was crying.

“Alec—”

“They said they missed me, that they loved me.” Her voice broke. “They promised to come for me.” She wiped at her eyes in frustration, trying to hold onto her memory as tightly as possible. “They even—Asra, they said you love me. I don’t think it was really a dream, I think I really visited them—whoever they are—but I’m not sure. I just want it to be true. Please tell me that all of that was true.”

He was quiet for a moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and she watched his face, tears continuing to fall. When he spoke, it was slow, calculated, but still nervous. “If… if you’re starting to remember… and it’s not hurting you… Maybe it is time I tell you the truth.”

The water started to churn, and Alec sat back, watching with her eyes wide and mouth open as the water took the shape of Asra, right in front of her. All she wanted to do was hold him tight to her, but instinctively she knew that if she even touched the water, he would disappear.

“Allie…” Asra exhaled, pressing as close to her as he could, water shimmering in the moonlight. “It was—it istrue. You’re… not a student to me. You never have been. You’re my best friend, Allie, but you’re so much more than that. All my life, you’ve helped me grow, and I’ve learned just as much from you as you from me.”

Even through the water she could tell his eyes were shining with tears, and she choked back a sob, not even daring to speak as he continued.

“The person in your dream… they were right. I do love you. I love you so much, it breaks my heart every time I have to leave you. Because even when we’re apart, all I can think about is you, and how worried I am for you, and how much I want to be with you. And I’m…” His voice broke. “I’m tired of hiding that from you. I want you to know everything, to remember everything about me, about us.”

It almost felt too good to be true. Alec finally understood why Asra stayed with her, chose her, day after day. He loved her. And she remembered, she had to.

“Asra—”

A sharp, shooting pain cut through her mind, and she screamed, clutching at her head. She slumped to the ground, struggling to stay coherent with the intense agony she felt.

“Oh no, no, no, no!” Asra’s begging finally cut through the pain enough for her to hear him. “Allie, please look at me!”

She dragged her gaze up to his panicked, grief-stricken face, and immediately the pain became white-hot, nearly blinding her.

Asra gasped in horror as she cried out again. “O-okay, don’t look at me.” He sounded like he was going to cry, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with him.

“I’m so sorry… I was reckless, I shouldn’t have tried.” He sounded so far away; why was he so far away? “Alec, I need you to forget.”

Forget? She shook her head, crying from the pain and from the thought of losing another memory. “N-no… No, Asra, please. Please, I don’t want to forget.”

She kept begging with him even as he spoke again, his voice breaking. “Gods, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Allie.”

He leaned down over her, and she felt his lips on her cheek, cold like ice. Then she felt nothing.

****

A soft voice singing some lullaby she once knew laced her dreams, a pool of dark nothingness that she was floating in, alone. No… she wasn’t alone. Someone was carrying her, cradled to their chest like she was a child. And she felt like one, limbs heavy from a long day, eyes too tired to even try to open them.

What had she just been doing? She stirred, trying to remember.

The singing stopped, but the voice spoke. “Hush, my Sirène. Sleep. You’re alright.”

A part of her wanted her to open her eyes, to wake up, but she ignored it, settling deeper against the person carrying her. Eventually, the pool of nothingness turned into her bedroom in the palace, and the arms holding her turned into the blankets and pillows she nested in. She blinked in the dark room groggily, and when she saw nothing, laid back down, her eyes sliding shut again.

As she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, her mind foggy from the events of the day, the voice that she had heard back at the shop continued, echoing in her mind.

“I promise, we’re always gonna be here.”

[renadactyl]

“Coffee Cognition”

𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕪 ℝ𝕖𝕟𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕪𝕝 (ℝ𝕖𝕟/𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕞) (𝕙𝕖/𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪/𝕚𝕥)

𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕟-𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔, 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝔸𝕤𝕣𝕒 𝕩 𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕟

𝕋𝕎: 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕘𝕦𝕖, 𝕔𝕒𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤, 𝕞𝕖��𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕖, 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙

(𝟠𝟡𝟛 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤)

Febuwhump Day 2: “Solitary Confinement” (another very loosely-based oneshot on the prompt)

Julian loses his mind trying to find a cure for the plague, locking himself inside of his room until he can find it (this is set before he’s force-fed the beetle)

Not proofread

Crimson threads of hair were swung this way and that, getting into Julian’s eyes as he focused down on the papers spread in front of him on the large wooden desk. He couldn’t remember the last time he stopped to bother his memory over figuring out when he had last brushed his hair. The only comb that he had with him was his shaky, caffeine-powered fingers, raking through whenever he was losing focus or a tuft of hair was getting in his eyes.

His left eye twitched to the point where it irked him and he could do nothing about it. That was obviously a consequence of drinking an umpteenth cup of coffee, but he felt as if the trade of his discomfort for the sake of staying up to study was truly worthwhile.

The room was so silent he could almost hear his psyche breaking. He could hear his brain growing rusty and cracking, slowly snapping apart from each crevice, tearing itself up into two. If it knew the body it inhabited, it’d surely want to save itself the pain of continuing to work and exist.

The only company he had in the darkness of his study was his own shaky mumbles. Most of the time, he would be talking to himself. However, now he liked to envision something soft and peaceful, the last thing that gave him hope in this bleak misfortune: the fluffy white head of hair belonging to the mysterious magician… those curious eyes that had been glazed over with pain for a while by now. The vision of Asra Alnazar sprawled out, allowing Julian to touch his cloudy hair, and resting his head on Julian’s lap was enough positive reinforcement versus all the weighty responsibilities being placed on his shoulders. Julian knew that he just had to protect that which was most precious to him, even if he wasn’t the most precious to Asra.

He looked over his research: the diagrams of various dissected human brains, a log kept on the victims he watched over daily, and then the studies on leeches. He had proved so many scientific facts wrong, and yet all these world-altering discoveries changed nothing about the fates of the victims.

The miniature discoveries Julian made every now and again always felt like stabbing him in his guts. It just was a reminder how he could do much more than anyone else could to prevent this plague, or at least he was willing to sacrifice much more than the average person for it all to end already. He knew he could do it. He was just so close but so far.

He prepared himself for the bitter taste of coffee when he raised his cup up to his throat, but it never came. He could only taste the leftover residue and felt the lingering heat of the cup on his lips. With an uneasy expression and shaky hands, he lowered the cup. It hit the desk with a small thud.

Now, Julian faced a dilemma. He needed coffee to work, but now he couldn’t obtain any more. He needed it though, he knew he’d blackout without it. The darkness felt suffocating at the ends of his vision.

He could hope that Valdemar would show up in front of his door and ask him for his progress he had made while he had himself locked in the room. Then, he could ask them to fetch him a cup of coffee, even though they’d likely decline out of disinterest for his well-being. Besides, he couldn’t imagine having to face one of Valdemar’s “check-ups” around that time. He’d have to tell them that he made no progress, not only admitting it to them but also finally admitting it to himself: that he was failing his job as a plague doctor. And Valdemar would only grin, their eyes staring at him and studying his tired gaze and bloodshot eyes and weakening body. They were perhaps the only person who didn’t want the plague to end because it allowed them to do so many gruesome treatments in the name of medicine and science.

He took a deep breath in and then out. He was getting ahead of himself. He was losing it. He was moving too quickly. He pulled back on the reigns of the dashing horse that was his brain. Every thought he thought was a thought wasted. Every thought could’ve been the thought that’d cure the plague.

When he didn’t know what to do, he’d think of Asra or the red eyes of the victims begging for him to spare their lives. Everyone was watching him, awaiting his every moment, hoping that he could finish with the next swipe of the quill against his paper. But deep down it was understood by him that it couldn’t be that easy. He was failing everyone with every second he spent focusing on thinking about the ruins around him instead of all the work in front of him.

Whilst his eyes scanned back over his notes, he heard a small buzzing beside him. Thankfully though, it landed on his desk so he could clearly see what it was: just a simple fly, attracted by a certain stench.

Without a second thought, he crushed it with one swing of his textbook, letting the dusty hardback cover slam harshly and shake the desk.

[mysticsect]

✦.  — Asra knew less than an hour in this several hour endeavor that there was NO WAY that Eshu would willingly sit through the event in its entirety; even with the help of videos. This was the same last time and in truth they'd expect the same next time as well.

While there was little they could do to speed up the competition itself, they could STILL offer what help they could. Wordlessly, they'd lean their shoulder against Final Form's with a sigh. They were tired from the events of the day, though they wouldn't admit it, but that seemed to be the case for Asra a lot of the time.

❛ If you're bored, I don't think you gotta sit here the whole time... ❜ their voice trailed off as they'd try to recall anything the deity would find interesting, ❛ we could go get some ice cream or something? ❜ Any excuse to walk around at night was a welcome one for Asra.

Besides. Asra's matchups weren't coming until tomorrow, they could sneak out for now.

♕. ☼ ☽. - " Uuuugh I'm BOOORED. Someone LOVE me already."

" I know you couldn't pay attention to anyone else, if you did you'd have SHIT taste."