#✿ 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙. 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 ─ ❝ 🇫​🇦​🇹​🇺​🇮​​​​​​​​​ ❞

[momijiba]

a little something for ( @erabundus )

this visit is supposed to be short.. just a small check-in with his new supervisor. but as acer was making his way down the hallway his feet stopped right in front of a familiar door... it was his office.  heart beating faster and he could feel the heat in his cheeks rising... he knew he shouldn't but he wanted to.... needs to even. so without a second thought, he raised his hand and knocked on the door with only a few light taps... waiting.. 

[momijiba]

acer, let the words run through his mind..  ''face me now, or never face me again.''

why did those words hurt more than the wound on his hand?   clearly, he had no other choice or else everything would be lost, but maybe it was for the better?... maybe scara could just forget about him.. it would do him better before people found out that they were sleeping together more than once.. before whatever this was that they had could grow into something that would hurt more as time passed.. feelings that acer thought he pushed away as soon as he set foot in zapolyarny palace. 

he turned his head, crimson eyes burning with shame and anger towards himself..  anger that he let it happen. shame that scara had to see him like this.. a pathetic man lost in a frozen palace.  eyes meeting cold indigo with a purplish hue.. ( or was that last part just an illusion? )

      ❛    is there something else that you want to talk about, sir?   ❜ a painful hiss escaped him when he clenched his fist, bandages turning a deep red as the wound re-opened itself.. well that was a problem for later.

      ❛   i'm currently not in the mood to please you.. if that's what you want.   ❜ 

kunikuzushi  swears  he  can  feel  his  blood  BOILING  beneath  his  skin  —  hotter  and  hotter  with  every  subsequent  word.  damn  him.  damn  him  for  being  so  needlessly  difficult.  damn  him  for  making  him  feel  —  for  making  him  feel,  when  all  the  sixth  wants  is  to  crush  those  pesky  EMOTIONS  beneath  a  merciless  heel.  for  a  moment,  he  genuinely  entertains  the  idea  of  leaving.  sounds  like  that  would  be  the  smart  thing  to  do;  acer's  very  existence  is  like  a  poison  that  threatens  to  erode  away  every  scrap  of  his  common  sense.  their  relationship,  their  trysts  were  fine  provided  they  remained  entirely  PHYSICAL  —  a  mutual  exchange,  the  same  foundation  all  bonds  are  build  upon.  yet  this  dynamic  of  theirs  is  slowly  beginning  to  drift  into  uncharted  territory.  something  dangerous.  something  personal.  and  perhaps  it  always  has  been,  inch  by  miserable  inch,  ever  since  the  moment  he  so  GREEDILY  decided  to  keep  this  arrangement  going  beyond  the  usual  one  night  stand.

if  he  was  looking  for  a  way  out,  the  opportunity  has  been  presented  to  him  on  a  SILVER  PLATTER.  yet  the  fact  that  he  holds  no  true  desire  to do so  only  serves  to  infuriate  him  more.

❝  ... the  display  you're  putting  on  right  in front of me  is  even  more  PATHETIC.  ❞  look  at  me,  the  balladeer  wants  to  hiss.  look  at  me.  look  at  me.  look  at  me.  ❝  if  you  were  actually  sorry,  you  would  stop  this  childish  nonsense  and  turn  around ...  but  it  seems  you're  too  much  of  a  coward  to  entertain  even  that  much.  ❞   the  words  are  delivered  with  his  usual  acerbic  tongue,  but  they  feel  WRONG  —  even  as  he  speaks  them.  there  are  thoughts  he  wishes  to  communicate,  kunikuzushi  knows.  certain  sentiments  —  but  he  lacks  the  familiarity  to  properly  weave  them  into  speech,  irregardless  of  his  own  vocabulary.  rage,  tenderness  and  a  particular  sort  of  insecurity  that  he  loathes  the  moment  that  it  registers  in  his  mind  —  for  what  if  the  problem  is  not  a  matter  of  cowardice,  but  a  lack  of  INTEREST  altogether?  he  has  to  bite  back  a  curse  at  the  mere  thought,  feeling  it  take  root  in  his  empty  chest  like  an  especially  STUBBORN  weed.

❝  i'll  make  this  EASIER  for  you.  ❞   there's  a  brief  crackle  of  electro  and  he  appears  directly  behind  him  —  closing  the  distance  between  them  in  an  INSTANT.  ❝  face  me  now,  or  never  face  me  again.  ❞  it  seems  like  the  most  efficient  way  to  banish  any  ambiguity.  (  and,  perhaps,  absolve  himself  of the burden of choice.  )

[momijiba]

( @erabundus ) meeting 2.0 emotional edition~

the sun has only started to peek from behind the mountains of shneznaya. acer maybe had like three or four hours of sleep after he cleaned himself up and got something to eat, avoiding anastasia's concerned looks. she was like an older sister to him who would keep the ''a-squad'' in check.

luckily enough for him, the only ''severe'' damage he had sustained was the cut on his cheek and that was mostly likely to heal on its own, for now it was covered by a gauze. he looked ridiculous in his own opinion.  and acer is mentally preparing himself for the earful that he is about to get. 

arriving at a familiar door he just opened the door not caring for etiquette he was annoyed at what happened but also with that, this irky feeling had been crawling its way into his head and heart... like it was eating him alive from the inside, like a leech.... a disease.

and the person who was the sole reason for this suffering was leaning against his desk.   ''does this guy even sleep?''   in a couple of steps he was in front of the harbinger and placed the report right next to him on the desk.  

           ❝  ......  ❞

just a little huff was all that scara would get before acer grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him down on the desk, on top of the report. and acer followed with his legs and arms caging him in.  bright crimson eyes staring, acer was annoyed and pissed. 

           ❝  why is it you... did you give me some poison made by the doctor to feel this way?, i hate you... and everything you stand for... everything you are doing to me...  ❞ the pale skin on acer's cheeks and neck was turning a bright red colour, of all the emotions swirling inside of him. 

[momijiba]

( @erabundus ) acer  is  late.

that  alone  isn't  enough  to  make  the  balladeer  worried.  on  the  contrary,  the  mere  implication  he  would  show  such  concern  for  a  human  is  so  preposterous  it  borders  on  insulting.  his  subordinate  is  capable  of  taking  care  of  himself,  no  matter  what  problems  this  wretched  world  decides  to  throw  his  way  —  kunikuzushi  is  more  annoyed  that  it  means  he  has  to  spend  his  valuable  time  waiting  for  him.  foot  taps  to  mark  the  seconds  as  they  tick  by.  one  minute  passes.  two.  five.  ten.  they  were  supposed  to  rendezvous  in  this  precise  location.  his  instructions  were  exact  —  surely  he  hadn't  gotten  lost?  eventually  boredom  (  and  it  is  boredom,  nothing  more  )  wins  out  over  common  sense.  exhaling  a  hissing  sigh,  the  balladeer  turns  and  decides  to  hunt  down  acer  himself.  he'll  get  back  at  him  for  this.

what  he  finds  is  a  bloodbath.

he  isn't  sure  the  context.  perhaps  they  recognized  acer  as  fatui.  perhaps  they  meant  to  extort  him  for  intel.  perhaps  they  are  enemies  crawling  forth  from  a  past  the  harbinger  isn't  privy  to.  he  only  knows  he's  stumbled  upon  a  fight  in  progress  —  and  for  a  time,  he's  content  to  merely  hang  back  (  unseen  )  and  watch  the  show.  acer's  fighting  style  has  always  been  one  of  the  most  captivating  things  about  him,  after  all.  (  though  the  idea  of  expressing  such  open  admiration  for  a  mortal  makes  him  feel  ill.  )  it's  only  when  a  fresh  wound  appears  across  the  human's  cheek,  wicked  and  red,  that  the  balladeer's  own  blood  suddenly  starts  to  boil.

no.  the  thought  surfaces  in  his  mind.  his  fun  has  gone  sour.  suddenly,  it  feels  like  there's  something  inside  of  him  —  some  wild,  snarling  creature  that  gnashes  wicked  teeth  at  the  sight.  that  isn't  allowed  to  happen.  they  don't  have  the  right  to  draw  his  blood.

the  world  explodes  in  a  cacophony  of  bright  light  and  crackling  heat.  what  adversaries  still  remain  fall  to  the  ground  —  the  thump,  thump,  thump  of  every  successive  body  going  limp  like  the  beat  of  a  drum.  all  but  one.  all  but  the  vermin  fool  enough  to  wound  acer  —  who  finds  themself  with  an  arm  shoved  through  their  chest.  the  balladeer  blinks  over  their  shoulder,  splash  of  mirrored  red  dripping  down  his  own  cheek.  his  visage  always  straddles  the  line  between  real  and  ethereal,  but  there  seems  to  be  something  particularly  divine  about  his  appearance  now  —  eyes  alight  with  electro's  glow,  long  eyelashes  casting  strange  shadows  over  delicate  features.  ❝  you  took  too  long.  ❞  he  says,  wrenching  his  hand  out  of  the  insect's  chest.  gaze  never  once  strays  from  acer's  face.  his  voice  sounds  noticeably  softer  than  usual,  even  if  only  by  the  smallest  amount;  it's  the  closest  he'll  ever  come  to  asking  if  he's  alright.

it wasn't really uncommon for acer and his fellow fatuus to be walking into an ambush by all different kinds of groups of people.   it comes with the job is what andrey would say, the anemo boxer of the a-squad group that was made up of a couple of fatui and all their names started with an a so that's how that came to be. ( it was in some way a little family )   

but this time acer was alone as the others were back at the camp preparing dinner.  it would only be a report he had to deliver to the balladeer ( and maybe leave a croissant with it ).   honestly he was a bit late and he already could imagine the annoying face that the harbinger would make at him.  

acer could handle fighting a group of people pretty well on his own, it would ruin his ''reputation'' as a secret agent of number six if he wasn't able to.  however, that didn't mean that he would go unscathed. sometimes casualties happen and acer didn't think much of it again it came with the job.   

too busy on focussing on the multiple people in front of him, an adversary nicked his cheek and acer could feel it burning and the blood dripping down his skin.  preparing to retaliate with his katana he was pushed back by a force that swooped in like a thunderstorm.

acer ignored the gorey scene that unfolded in front of him, he couldn't help but stare. staring. staring. at the man he was supposed to report to. the man who was way above him. the man that acer hated to the core but still sought out some relief. the man that his little family would tease him about for starting to develop something more. 

           ❝  sorry sir  ❞   he said in a soft-spoken voice while he turned his head slowly. the feeling of shame came over him.            ❝  i was on my way with my report until i was upheld by these people  ❞

[momijiba]

like this post if you would be interested in fatui!kazuha [ codename: acer ]

[momijiba]

acer can't wait to get back to fontaine to get more croissants to throw at his ✨𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒✨ harbinger.

[momijiba]

can't wait for fontaine and deep dive (no pun intended) in writing fatui verse headcanons.. as fontaine is the region acer is mostly stationed at!!

[momijiba]

( @erabundus ) ❝  a  letter  for  you,  sir.  ❞  the  envelope  is  pressed  into  acer's  hands.  crisp  and  white  —  utterly  spotless  save  for  a  familiar  wax  seal.  (  purple.  like  poison.  like  electro.  )  the  soldier  dips  their  head  in  a  bow  and  quickly  scurries  away,  no  doubt  off  to  deliver  more  mail  if  the  hefty  bag  they're  carrying  serves  as  any  indication.

the  letter  within  smells  faintly  of  incense.  its  contents  are  neat  and  impersonal;  it  reads  more  as  though  the  writer  merely  took  a  pre-existing  template  and  tossed  acer's  name  in  the  blanks.  effective  immediately,  he  is  to  be  transferred  under  childe's  command.  the  length  of  time  is  indefinite.  a  week?  a  month?  forever?  it's  impossible  to  say.

beneath  the  order,  there  is  a  signature  penned  in  a  recognizable  script.  the  balladeer's  signature;  he's  approved  the  transfer.

it has been a few months since acer and his squad the cold land of shneznaya and arrived in the slightly warmer temperatures of fontaine. they were mostly there as a support unit but it was also a country that attracted acer for its food and drinks. 

acer was drinking a nice cup of tea when the letter was delivered to him. he didn't think that the balladeer would send him anything as all the previous letters he had sent had been unanswered ( properly burned or whatever knowing him ) but this could be different... maybe he wanted to talk or tell him to drown in fontaine. you never knew with the guy.  

the ink was staring at him... he didn't understand and had to read it over a couple of times. before he realized he was transferred... under the number eleventh??!!! THE LOWEST OF THEM ALL!! THE NERVE!!! don't get him wrong.. childe was actually quite nice, the man liked to fish which is something that acer liked to do as well in his spare time to clear his mind. but this felt like a betrayal... like he spits in his face... this motherfucker... fucking dog.. 

acer quickly grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote something down before passing it to the messenger            ❝  please return with this.. ❞ the guy left without a hinge holding a letter response reading: i accept this transfer and thank you for letting me work under you~ may your cold heart warm up someday.                                                               ~ acer

as soon as the messenger was out of sight acer's knees gave out and tears that had been hidden started running down his cheeks again.. why did this hurt so much.. was everything they had just for not? was he really used?? like a toy, played with and thrown to the side as soon as it started to wear out. 

[momijiba]

───── ❝ 𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸 ❞ ─────

── background story ──

after reaching the docks in ritou while being chased by the shogunate for ''stealing'' a vision, kazuha sneaks onto a fatui ship because he is desperate to get out of Inazuma at that point. when he gets discovered they are already halfway to Snezhnaya and at first, the fatui officer in charge wants to throw him off the ship. while being covered in dried-up blood kazuha is still able to hold a stand and makes the whole ship submit to him, with this the fatui officer asks for an audience with the tsaritsa and introduces kazuha. the tsaritsa makes an offer ( secret :p ) he joins right then and there and with that, she gives him his cryo delusion.

── fatui details ──

༺name༻ Kaedehara Kazuha ༺code name༻ Acer (/ˈeɪsər/) is a genus of trees and shrubs commonly known as maples ༺rank༻ a rank below the harbingers ( he has no interest in wanting to become a harbinger because he sees them as the tsaritsa's direct lapdogs ) ༺vision༻ Anemo ༺delusion༻ Cryo ( when his delusion activates his left eye becomes a bright blue and part of his red streak will have a blue gradient ) ༺weapon༻ Sword ༺looks༻ [ref]

( more will be add down the line ~ )

[momijiba]

a bit more for the fatui verse~ kazu only goes by the name acer and only people that he ''consider'' very close friends would get to call him by his actual name in private settings. to the rest of the world the kaedehara clan has perished and he want to keep it that way, it makes his missions a lot easier. his favourite region to be in is Fontaine for pasteries but also the justice system is something that intrests him. he rarely gets deployed to inazuma because he absolute hate having to go there, he would only go there if he would have to assist a harbinger other then that he absolute refuses to go. ( the only person he would not refuse orders from is the Tsaritsa ). harbingers are the tsaritsa's personal lapdogs to him. he respects some of them to a certain degree. he rather stays away from them then having to deal with their problems. the group that works under kazu is some sort of new found family to him, there is a level of respect with each other but he would do anything to protect them. he keeps his real identity away from them, to protect them most likely.

[momijiba]

having his head forcibly turned to meet his superior's face has acer mentally prepare himself for the earful he was about to receive. but when crimson eyes looked into the indigo eyes that he had caught himself losing himself in multiple times he noticed a different thing.. like something was different. he couldn't put his finger on what it was that he saw. 

           ❝  besides some bruises and the cut on the cheek, i'm fine, sir..  ❞

still feeling the emotion of shame running through him, acer wanted to get out of the situation. he didn't want the sixth harbinger to see him like this, like a failure... what if he might realize that acer was just another one of his toys.... discarded and thrown into the fire to burn and become nothing but ash. 

           ❝  i'll have the report tomorrow morning on your desk sir... now if you excuse me i would like to return to my quarters and freshen up  ❞

he moved back a few steps and bowed down. acer was feeling humiliated.

the  apology  goes  completely  ignored.  kunikuzushi  continues  to  fix  him  with  that  eerie  stare  —  snapping  out  of  his  trance  only  when  acer  TURNS  AWAY.  anger then  flickers  in  his  chest,  like  the  spark  to  precede  an  uncontrollable  flame.  however,  the  balladeer  finds  it  isn't  directed  at  his  subordinate,  nor  his  (  very  much  deceased  )  attackers.  rather,  it's  how  he  feels  in  response  to  this  mess  of  a  situation  that  incites  his  ire  —  and  the  fact  that  he  feels  SO  STRONGLY  at  all.  even  now,  emotions  wrack  his  frame  with such  intensity,  kunikuzushi  suspects  his  body  may  crumple  from  the  strain.  they  are  akin  to  a  gradient,  each  blending  together so seamlessly  it's  impossible  to  tell  where  one  begins  and  another  ends.  he's  furious.  he's  confused.  he's  frustrated  for  reasons  he  doesn't  want  to  think  about.  there's  something  else  present  amid  the  chaos  that  makes  him  feel  so  disgustingly  WEAK,  he  has  half  a  mind  to  shove  a  hand  into  his  own  chest  in  the  hopes  of  TEARING  IT  out  like  a  garden  weed.

this  human  —  this  one,  insignificant  HUMAN  is  somehow poisoning  him.  slowly.  agonizingly.  and  despite  all  rational  sense,  the  balladeer  can  only  seem  to  hasten  his  own  end.

❝  ...  ❞   the  hand  unsullied  by  gore  grabs  acer  by  the  chin  —  FORCING  him  to  turn  so  kunikuzushi  can  survey  the  damage.  it  doesn't  seem  too  terrible  as  far  as  he  can  tell;  the  insult  lies  in  the  fact  it  exists  at  all.  ❝  you're  not  so  easy  to  replace.  ❞   he  mutters  as  he  looks  it  over.  the  words  sound  deceptively  casual,  but  carry  with  them  more  weight  than  first  impressions  might  imply.  has  the  balladeer  not  been  endeavoring  to  keep  their  entire  arrangement, their entire dynamic  as  TRANSACTIONAL  as  possible?  the  change  in  tune  is  so  dramatic,  it  feels  a  bit  jarring.  (  even  as  he  struggles  to  make  it  sound  dismissive.  )  ❝  next  time,  show  a  little  consideration  for  the  people  you  would  inconvenience  with  your  death.  ❞   thumb  drags  carefully  through  the  still-wet  blood.  AGAIN,  that  familiar  irritation  has  his  chest  going  uncomfortably  tight.  how  dare  they  leave  a  mark  on  him. how dare they. how dare they.

❝  forget  the  report.  ❞  this  isn't  the  PLACE  for  it.  ❝  are  there  any  other  injuries  i  should  know  about?  ❞  (  are  you  hurt  —  ?  )

[momijiba]

it hurts.. it hurts so bad.. even after his hand was wrapped up and taken care of after visiting the infirmary and seeing the doctor... or was it somebody else.. who knows.  that was definitely going to leave a scar behind.   another one to join the club.

acer should have seen it coming after provoking the third harbinger for the billionth time in the span of a few hours. the choking should have been an indication of her patience not being an endless void. she was already way too lenient with him, more than he deserved for just a foot soldier. the shape of her fingers on acer's throat was slowly fading away, but when he went back to deliver the rest of the pastries that he brought with him from another mission in fontaine to his squad.. his little family.. would worry about him asking him if he was okay and if he needed help.

they would only show care to each other behind closed doors.. out of sight... hiding their weakness from anyone. especially the harbingers.

speaking of harbingers... acer was avoiding scaramouche like the plague.. he was embarrassed that he saw him like this.. like a fool... this wasn't how he wanted the harbinger to see him. he knew he couldn't avoid the men forever as he would catch on quickly. he had a keen sense for that. or so acer thought. 

he was hoping he would be able to avoid scaramouche a little longer.. but faith had other plans.. and they were cruel.  acer couldn't face him.. did he not understand the embarrassment he faced.. it was humiliating.. he only turned his head to the side, not quite facing him.       ❛   i'm sorry, sir.. but i.. can't...   ❜ can't... or won't... he knew he could, but he didn't want to be laughed at or face a lecture of scaramouche.. he wasn't ready for that.

      ❛   i'll have my report of my mission in fontaine on your desk tomorrow morning   ❜ short but quick.. he could feel the wound itching like it was healing itself.. slowly...

      ❛   and sorry about my pathetic display back there... i was way out of line.. it won't happen again..   ❜ 

if  asked,  the  balladeer  would  say  he  ENJOYED  his  stint  at  the  harbingers'  impromptu  tea  party  —  though  of  course,  to  say  anything  to  the  CONTRARY  would  risk  invoking  columbina's  wrath.  even  so,  it's  not  a  lie;  there's  not  much  he  wouldn't  find  enjoyable  about  toying  with  the  humans  he  so  despises.  (  his  grudge  may  stand  eternal,  but  that's  certainly  no  reason  not  to  feed  the  FLAMES.  )  however,  there  was  one  aspect  of  the  gathering  that  admittedly  left  a  somewhat  sour  taste  in  the sixth's  mouth  —  namely,  the  addition  of  acer  to  the  metaphorical  menu.

he  doesn't  care,  of  course.  acer  is  just  a  human  —  a  weak  little  insect  clinging  to  the  fatui  in  a  desperate  scramble  for  self-preservation.  (  or  so  he  assumes.  )  he  would  sooner  stab  kunikuzushi  in  the  back  without  so  much  as  a  second  thought  —  for  all  mortals  are  rife  with  such  selfishness  and  sin,  no  matter  what  face  they  may  use  to  mask  their  INTENTIONS.  acer  hasn't  been  especially  subtle  about  his  disdain  for  him,  either  —  despite  mixing  that  poison  with  a  curious  possessive  streak.  however,  in  the  aftermath  he  can't  help  but  notice  the  mortal  has  taken  to  AVOIDING  HIM  —  and  that  irks  him,  for  reasons  he  can't  (  or  refuses  to  )  place.  he keeps recalling  the  sight  of  columbina's  dainty  hands  around  his  neck,  and  the  strange  twinge  of  something  it  stirred  within  him.  it's  annoying,  and  acer's  insistence  on  scurrying  around  like  a  timid  little  mouse  only  exacerbates  the  issue.

so  when  he  catches  sight  of  his  retreating  back,  the  balladeer  narrows  his  eyes  and  calls  out  a  terse,  ❝  stop.  ❞  it's  pure  coincidence  that  they're  meeting  like  this;  he  hasn't  been  LOOKING  for  him.  even  if  he  has  spent  the  better  part  of  the  day  wandering  around  the halls in  lieu  of  getting  any  work  done.  ❝  stop  running  away.  weren't  you  the  one  making  a  big  deal  about  not  hiding?  ❞  he  crosses  his  arms,  glowering  at  the  mortal's  back.   ❝  here  i  thought  you  liked  my  face  —  but  now  it  seems  you  can't  STOMACH  the  sight  of  it.  ❞

@momijiba gave the tea party a 1/5 on yelp