#CREATIONS: DIVIDER.

[seramorris]

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[johnkayano]

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[fangedeer]

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[romaritimeharbor]

FAMILY, OF SORTS. — in which kafka, blade, and silver wolf are an odd but quite special found family to be a part of.

— trigger & content warnings. mentions of unspecified injury.

— pairings & notes. fluff, found family. kafka & teen!reader, blade & teen!reader, silver wolf & teen!reader. 1.3k words. reader is a stellaron hunter. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used).

— author's notes. the sillies <3 APHE POSTING???? APHELION POSTING REAL AND TRUE????????? i had a request for this on my old blog (from my dear beloved moot @starryshinyskies <3) so i decided to finish it 💪 nd tagging @www-brontide since i know you were excited for this post HEHE anyways how are we feeling about this formatting? if you guys don't like it i'm very open to changing it back. i'm just experimenting with my post format is all 🫶

kafka seems strangely motherly to me. caring and doting in her own unique ways, but also quite strange and odd in those same ways. an enigma of sorts.

she is the kind of person to always send the stellaron hunters' youngest member texts throughout the day; these texts range anywhere from silly and inconsequential to sweet messages letting [name] know that she was thinking about them.

(her doting nature is not dissimilar to how she thinks of and regards the trailblazer... hm.)

KAFKA

My coat got stained again :(

Won't you help me clean it when you get home, little one?

[ 1:22 PM ]

KAFKA

I saw a new movie today.

It made me think of you. It was quite to your tastes.

Perhaps we should go see it together sometime, hm?

Ah, but you're probably asleep by now...

That's fine. You do need it more than the rest of us.

Sleep well, darling.

[ 11:34 PM ]

she thinks of her little one quite frequently and has been known to pick up little trinkets from different planets that reminded her of them. a phone charm, a set of rings, something more practical like a new weapon... she once returned with a nice coat that matches one of hers. her gifts are always unpredictable but nonetheless very thoughtful.

and when or if they get injured, she is the one who treats their wound(s) with a tender hand.

she does chide them, however.

"you are a stellaron hunter, little one," she reminds, pulling the bandages wrapped around their wound a little tighter, making them wince. it is akin to a slap on the wrist—not enough pain to seriously harm them, but enough to force them to take her words to heart. "if it is not a part of the plan, try your best not to get caught or injured, hm? silver wolf doesn't like to see you this way, and it causes a unique stir in bladie. your getting injured causes quite the unrest among us all! do be more careful next time."

if there is ever a night during which they are struggling to sleep, they are more than welcome to seek out kafka's company.

she would be willing to read them to sleep, if that is what they desired.

however... a far easier method that would ensure they would stay asleep? her spirit whisper ability, of course.

they know kafka would not use it to harm them.

kafka finds their earnest trust beyond endearing. the trust of a little one like them is quite an important gift! the least she can do, she thinks, is assist them when her assistance is needed.

and sometimes, that just means lulling them to sleep.

blade is quite a difficult person to read, regardless of whether he intends to be so or not.

some days, he is distant and prefers to keep to himself. others, less so.

this, though, should not be mistaken for a lack of care. in fact, he cares quite deeply. his care is simply very quiet and he desperately, earnestly, truly does not wish to cause [name] harm.

he is also most likely the one who spars with them and trains them in the ways of combat, which... he isn't exactly the gentlest at doing. training sessions can be quite frustrating in that they often emerge sore and with new cuts and bruises (but really, these injuries are small and insignificant; they are confident in saying that blade would never truly hurt them, nobody in their family would). he does mean well in his tough methods, though.

the universe is not kind or gentle. it will never treat them that way. therefore, he does his best to prepare them so that they can effectively handle the universe's cruelty and defend themselves from it.

one of the ways in which his quiet care manifests is through his treatment of the small wounds he gives them during training. kafka has said many times that she can treat them, but blade always insists on doing it himself.

out of all of their coworkers, blade becomes the most restless when they're away. he gets particularly antsy when they've been gone for a long period or when they're out there alone. kafka always giggles and points out to him how utterly restless he becomes when such circumstances occur.

(he should be assured that they can handle themselves, given that he is their mentor—there is surely nobody else who would know their skills as well as he would—but somehow he simply isn't.)

blade is also, generally speaking, the most protective.

should they come back injured... if it is anything other than a shallow scratch on the cheek, a rage hotter than the brightest star burns under his skin. in those moments, he almost does not dare to touch them, for fear that he might harm them unwittingly... but he does. his hands are somewhat rough when he snatches their face and tilts their chin around to get a better look at the blood (is it theirs? he hopes not) and grime dirtying their face. there is a terrifying threat present in his voice when he demands, not asks, "who did this to you?"

(if kafka was not present in these moments, he might worry that his mara would get the best of him. thankfully, kafka is intentional and present in such situations.)

unless the ones responsible for the wound have already been adequately... taken care of, he will do so himself. there is nowhere in the universe that the perpetrators could hide from him.

it's about protecting them, but it is also about sending a message.

something along the lines of "anyone who lays hands on them will suffer a fate worse than death," perhaps.

death is anything but a terrible fate to blade, but he knows that it is the worst imaginable to some. he will be certain to deliver something infinitely worse, something beyond imagination, to those daring to hurt his younger teammate.

silver wolf is perhaps the least enigmatic of their little family. she isn't an open book, per se, but she's easier to read than kafka or blade... at least, for someone like [name], anyway.

she never fails to harrass them to play a few rounds (which tends to spiral into many, many rounds...) of a game or two with her. why them, specifically? she insists that blade isn't good at them and kafka is kafka. really, it may very well just be that she enjoys spending time with them, but she—of course—will not simply say that.

however... she bullies them terribly about how bad they are. it comes from a place of affection!

she is also the type to win them every single prize at carnivals, just because she likes the joy it seems to bring them. when she encounters rigged games, however, she becomes all the more motivated by her unadulterated annoyance to beat them.

what do you mean she of all people can't beat this awful and horrible rigged game? her???? the silver wolf????? seriously????????

unfortunately, it does not always end in her victory, even when she is infinitely motivated by her anger.

...and she really isn't above just taking one of the prizes when the stall's owner isn't looking. she has done so multiple times for [name].

she would definitely try to teach them hacking (keyword: try) if they aren't already familiar with it. since it has come in handy for her, she figures that they might also find use in it. it's her quiet way of looking out for them.

(her more obvious way of looking out for them is often seen when she is on missions with them. most commonly, it manifests as her snatching their arm and pulling them out of the way of an enemy before obliterating said threat.)

silver wolf is totally the sort of person to pinch their cheeks (to different degrees, kafka and blade also do this!). they are very cute to her.

overall they are a weird but very special little family to be a part of <3

please consider supporting your writers by reblogging and leaving a kind tag or comment. it really helps me out!

[florichae]

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[mmadeinheavenn]

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[fluffettis]

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[murcuor]

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[mochilly]

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[maybxlle]

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masterlist | home | rules

contains: a daughter of aphrodite panicking over our favorite white boy. and vise versa (jason grace x daughter of aphrodite!reader)

warnings: shitty ass writing, language, use of yn, and CRINGE. it's pretty bad, read at your own risk ⚠️

author's note: first fic! also, its probably gonna be bad (because i'm a shit writer 😃) im SO sorry about all the cuts! i cannot write. [send in requests y'all!] ALSO if you see any incorrections, no you didn't.

special mentions: thank you so much @canonfeminine for helping me come up with the joke percy says and @hopelesslyromanticshark because i kinda stole her formatting and her amazing advice (love ya coves!)

final word count: 2,098 words

now playing 𓏧 down bad by taylor swift

jason grace was walking outside cabin 13 when he heard you tweaking.

it was only 11am and it sounded like you had been up all night.

"y'all, you know that one song from taylor's new album? down bad? that's so me about superman." you sighed, "i don't even think he cares about me. not even a little."

"now i'm down bad, crying at the gym. everything comes out teenage petulance. fuck it if i can't have him. i might just die, it'd make no difference." you sang under your breath.

jason peeked in the cabin. he saw you hanging off hazel's bed upside down, piper was on the floor painting her nails, while annabeth was sitting in an armchair, reading, and hazel was at her desk, writing a letter to chiron about why they should have state of the art, gold-plated horse feed. they were only in the hades cabin because nico was with will in the infirmary. (awww <3)

"ma'am, we know all of this before. you never shut about hi-" piper began.

"SHUT THE ACTUAL FUCK UP BEFORE I SHOVE A FOOT DOWN YOUR THROAT."

annabeth made a condescending mom face. "yn," she said gently. "maybe you should go to sleep."

you just glared at her until she looked back at her book (rolling her eyes).

"maybe he does like me! he just doesn't know it yet." you triumphantly said.

piper snorted. you got up, and whacked her with your pillow until she fell over.

"ok, geez, i get it. cough cough bitch." piper um-coughed out.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME? SAYS THE WHORE!"

hazel finally looked up, innocently, from her crazy letter, "ok, girls, let's calm down?"

you and piper obliged, scowling at each other.

"anyway, bACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING. maybe he is in love with me, he just doesn't fucking know it yet!"

"wait, isn't superman jaso-"

"BITCH SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I GO TO THE DAMNED CABIN AND GET THE FUCKING DUCT TAPE. you don't know who the fuck is lurking."

jason took that as his cue to get the fuck out of there.

our favorite white boy RAN to his boys.

he gathered them in percy's cabin. "guys, i just overheard something."

"what? that the superman theme song plays wherever you go?” percy snickered.

while percy and leo... snort-laughed, frank actually asked what happened.

"basically, i was walking past cabin 13 and the girls were in there, right? so i overhear yn saying something about 'superman' and how this song -down bad i think?- relates to them or something."

suddenly all the boys had their thinking faces on.

"what if she's in love with the actor of superman?" frank suggested.

leo had this eerie look on his face. "grow a couple of brain-cells chinese canadian baby man. she's in love with jason."

everyone just looked at leo. "ok, think about it. who the fuck else flies here? only jason. who else flies? superman."

jason thought about it. "that would make sense since piper was about to say my name when yn cut her off-"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAD WITH THAT???"

"i didn't think that yn would ever like me back." he said matter-of-factly.

to be fair, jason had a crush on you since he arrived at camp. you were so pretty but you were so lively too. your personality was bright and radiant and maybe a bit crazy. just a bit though. but in a good way!

you just radiated positivity as if you were the sun. to him you could've been.

jason didn't realize he zoned out until leo was about to shove a shoe in his mouth.

"LEO?! WHAT THE FLIP ARE YOU DOING?!"

"oh i got him back guys! you like... died." leo said.

"so you were going to resuscitate me by shoving a shoe in my mouth?"

"yeah, basically!"

jason didn't know what to say to that so he didn't say anything!

"can we get back on track?"

"yes," percy answered. "we shall."

"first things first, we already know that you love yn so much from the bottom of your heart. but how are you going to tell her?" frank asked.

jason was at a loss.

"don't worry, i'll sleep on it."

"hey sparky!" you exclaim.

"oh h-hey yn." you side-eyed him, wondering if he heard your gods-awful conversation yesterday.

then you slapped yourself. (mentally?) of course he wouldn't do that! he's your sweet little superman who you are hopelessly in love with!

"do you wanna race to the top of the lava wall with me? don't be shy, you always lose!" you asked.

"um, i don't think i can today yn, sorry."

you were a little lot disappointed. you just really liked him and he fucking rejects you??? what if you tell him how you feel and he doesn't feel the same way? what if you become the laughing-stalk of camp? “k, bye jase.”

after he left you sprinted to your girls.

"BITCHES, CODE RED. WHO HAS AN EMPTY CABIN?"

hazel slowly raised her hand. "just don't mess it up again. if piper doesn't want your foot in her face, don't put it in her goddamn face. ok?"

you scowled at her before sprinting to hazel’s cabin.

you guys took your seats from yesterday.

“JASON WAS ACTING FUCKING WEIIIIRD THIS MORNING.” you glared at piper.

“what the- wHY ARE YOU GUYS LOOKING AT ME?!” piper screeched.

annabeth spoke up, “you were the one who practically said jason’s name.”

“annie. you just said it. SUPERMAN ONLY BITCHES.” you said.

“what if that did happen?” hazel asked. “he’s not a pretty, perfect, goody-two-shoes princess? like you think he is. ”

“YES HE IS SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH HAZEL.”

annabeth, piper, and hazel all just looked at each other, tired with your shit.

“I CAME HERE FOR HELP, NOT THE BITCHY JUDGING COUNCIL!”

"i think she's onto me." jason said to his little boy band.

percy looked up from his game of chess with frank and stroked his chin, "why may that be?"

jason scratched his neck sheepishly, "um, she, like side-eyed me?”

“this is yn we’re talking about. she side-eyes everybody.” leo said.

“BUT NOT ME!” jason panicked.

frank tsked at percy, “what move you gonna make?”

“oh, shut it frank. i’m invested. what else did yn say?”

“i… don’t remember.”

all the boys collectively looked at him.

“I WAS NERVOUS! WHAT IF-”

“SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH!” leo exclaimed. “we need a fucking plan.”

“do you have a plan leo?” frank asked.

“i actually do, frank. gather round children.”

after some meticulous planning, and a couple phone calls, a plan was set.

a prom dress, a boom box, and taylor swift.

exciting right?

it was two days after that stupid conversation (that jason totally didn't overhear).

annabeth, piper and hazel came to drag you from your seat at the docks where you were reading an angsty romance (like the sad emo girl you were after being rejected by the love of your life).

"what the fuck do you whores want?"

"ok rude," annabeth replied, "but you have to come with us."

"we have something exciting for you!" hazel said enthusiastically.

you looked at hazel, "haze, 'excitement', does not exist for me anymore. ever since the love of my goddamned life rejected me- "

piper cut you off, "ok shut up yn. first of all, he didn't even reject you. he just said he can't climb the lava wall with you. just come with us. please don't make a big deal about it."

you looked at the girls suspiciously, "what's in it for me?"

the girls shared a look, "that's a secret. but believe me, everything's in it for you."

"i look like a fucking bratz doll!" you screeched.

"ok, so?" piper replied. "I DON'T WANNA LOOK LIKE A DOLL THAT GOT BOTCHED PLASTIC SURGERY!"

piper was doing and messing up your makeup while annabeth and hazel were looking for a good outfit.

"also miss bitchy," you said, "why am i wearing this much makeup? and why is annabeth and hazel trying so hard to find an outfit?"

piper could see that you were clearly becoming suspicious. she just gave you a small (knowing) smile, "oh don't worry about it sweet."

you were about to jump her when hazel and annabeth came holding ... a prom dress and two inch heels?

“are you shitting me? what the fuck is this?” you asked.

“yn, just put it the fuck on! no. arguments. ” piper said.

you weren’t someone to refuse looking good. (even if piper messed up your makeup.) “fine, but i’m watching y’all.”

they nodded while you went to the bathroom to change.

you came out and hazel to do the back. “ok, how do i look?” you asked, deadpan.

“yn! you look stunning!” hazel exclaimed.

you looked decent. you had an old prom dress that the aphrodite cabin just happened to have and slightly crusty heels.

“this will definitely work. he’ll be drooling all over her.” piper said to annabeth.

you were so confused, what the fuck is happening?

"excuse me? what's going on? cause i am about to shit my pants." you said.

annabeth, hazel, and piper just looked at each other and said, "don't worry about it dear." and burst out laughing. (about what? that wasn't even funny???)

suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"oh my fucking gods, who is it?!" you shout.

piper looked at you. "chill," she opened the door, "hey leo."

"why is leo here?!" she ignored you! leo pulled her outside, when she came back she nodded to annabeth and hazel.

"ok yn! time for your surprise!" hazel said, knowingly.

then, hazel blindfolded you, annabeth and piper grabbed your legs, while leo grabbed your arms. while you were screaming to satan.

next, y'all went on your merry way going gods-know-where!

suddenly you were dropped straight on the fucking ground so hard your ass hurt and all your bindings slipped off.

you were in the middle of the fucking woods. and you could distantaly hear hazel, piper, leo and annabeth running away.

really where you were dropped was gorgeous. you were at a clearing in the middle of the woods. it was around sunset so everything was lit up with the golden sunlight streaming through the leaves. you could hear the faint sound of a creek in the distance.

all of sudden you heard footsteps. you got up of your ass and cursed under your breath when you realized you have no knifes because somebody took them from you.

you turned toward the sound when you saw him.

jason, all dressed up in a matching suit.

"oh, h-hi jason. whatcha doing here?"

"oh, just waiting for a pretty girl so i can give her a dance."

you looked around confusedly. "jase, i think you went the wrong way. all the pretty girls are back at camp."

he chuckled, then pulled a boombox from his ass. "would you give me this dance milady?"

you were so so so baffled. what was happening? but your heart belonged to him. "um, sure?"

he clicked play on the boombox and 'you belong with me' by taylor swift started playing. he grabbed your hands and placed them on his shoulders. (TRUST ok? they're waltzing to "you belong with me", but its fine.

you felt like your heart was going a million miles a second but in slow motion at the same time. you were panicking but you felt so content.

the bridge was playing and you realized how much the song relates to you and jason.

you guys were best friends before you something happened two days ago.

y'all knew each other better than the back of your hand.

he would bring you ice cream when you were on your period and when you weren't.

anytime he had to go on a quest without you he brought you souvenirs.

you told each other about your crazy dreams. like when elmo was chasing you down rodeo drive.

the song ended.

"i-" you looked up.

"um-" jason cut you off.

"you go first." you were terrified, your heart pounding in your chest.

"well, i've had the biggest crush on you, yn. since i arrived, really-"

you cut him off, pulling his mouth to your own.

you were in euphoria for a minute until you both pulled away.

"soooo?" you were giddy, "what now?"

jason looked thoroughly confused, you were too. "i don't know but we'll get through it together."

your cold heart melted a little at that.

"i have a question," you asked, walking away. "did you have a crush only because of my fat ass?"

"oh my gods, yn!"

author's note: so yeah um... there it is. it sucks, i kinda hate it but i thought it was a good idea and i wanted to start writing.

[seramorris]

TANZANITE. a purple and cyan-focused psd, shipped with a 60x60 icon border and a simple divider, inspired by star guardian senna from league of legends. * unavailable, commissioned by @starsenna. font used. arial (black), georgia

[ubelaces]

tumblr fucking sucks anyways

nahida tumblr layouts (f2u credit not required but appreciated)

for @ipcventurine event

day 02: edit a smart character or a dumb character

i hate these but whatervr 😛

[winterfea]

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[fangedeer]

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[romaritimeharbor]

HEIR. — In which Arlecchino's heir comes home after a tough mission.

— trigger & content warnings. references to violence and other dubious activities. mild blood.

— pairings & notes. fluff. arlecchino & heir!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader is a member of the house of the hearth and is arlecchino's chosen heir. 2.5k words.

— author's thoughts. arlecchino is the best harbinger fr <3

       Being the Knave's heir came with many implications.

       It was, firstly, a role that was never forced upon them; it was more of an offer that Arlecchino extended to them, the child who she felt would make a worthy king and successor should something ever happen to her. It was no obligation—not until they actually inherited her title, that is. Up until that point, they would always be permitted to withdraw. They could withdraw until they literally could not anymore, until they were the director of the House of the Hearth.

       Shackles weighed heavily on their body, growing more difficult to escape from with every passing moment, slowly fusing with their flesh and bone until one could not identify where their body ended and the chains began.

       Their time to dispel the House's darkness from their veins was there, but it was gradually ticking down… not that they particularly minded.

       (They weren't sure that they would fully leave the House, regardless, so its darkness would always inhabit their veins in some way, shape, or form. It would simply be to a lesser degree, if they were to decide that they did not want to be the next Knave.

       ...But they weren't sure that they would do that, either. The spider's web was their home, entangled inseparably with their limbs; it simply felt right for them to become its next owner with how intensely it stuck to their skin, as if it was beckoning them and only them.)

       The implication that they had limited time to leave was not such a heavy burden to bear.

       What was quite the weight, however, was the nature of their missions.

       Missions assigned to them were those that were unsuitable for the other children; generally, "unsuitable" meant extremely bloody and shrouded in the pitch-black shadows of the vile secrets of nobility or political figures. The darkness that their missions harbored ran deep. Missions assigned to them were more than simple intelligence gathering—there was something far more sinister about their work.

       It was often about sending a message.

       It was often about silencing the cackles of boisterous, rich fools who wrongly believed they had won by sending one of the Knave's agents running home like a frightened dog with its tail between its legs, bearing wounds they had not worn before leaving.

       It was often about instilling the fear of those who lurked in the darkest shadows into unwisely confident people who'd only just stepped into the dark, new to the territory and unfamiliar with the dangers that prowled further within.

       Over and over and over again, it was about sending a message.

       Missions that other children failed, they would be sent to complete.

       And often, those missions resulted in them walking home drenched in blood that was not theirs.

       (They still were not quite as elegant as Father, and this was one of the most frequent things that she chided them for… but they were still learning. Arlecchino hardly thought it was worth holding against them when they could successfully complete the missions that others failed to. She was a bit harder on them in the beginning, typically subjecting them to difficult stealth trainings that often involved plenty of brightly-colored paint ready to drench them the second they made a wrong move.

       Much to the Harbinger's intrigue, they had little issue with her trainings. It was never their stealth that was the problem. Rather…

       'Things tend to get… physical quite fast, Father. The people I am sent after are often quite volatile, as I am sure you know, so I have few choices other than to get dirty.'

       'I see.'

       Now, all she usually did when they returned in a disheveled manner was click her tongue and tell them to go clean themselves up, followed by little to no tasks assigned to them the next day, unless there were absolutely necessary operations that could not be avoided or handed to someone else.)

       They supposed that—at the very least—missions of that nature were not common, so they rarely had to tread home tired, bloody, and, sometimes, in a poor mood. It was rare that Father deemed a mission too unsuitable for the other children, yet still appropriate enough for them.

       Unfortunately, however, this was one of those nights.

       Their mission had gone well, as per usual. Nonetheless, they did not return well, and instead came home with a distantly tired expression and rather neat clothes… should one ignore the blood soaking their shoes and the tips of their pants, of course.

       The sight of home only motivated them to walk faster and with more purpose, yet they kept their steps quiet and light to the best of their ability. It didn't take long to reach their destination when their veins were filled with newfound energy and enthusiasm.

       Before fully stepping inside, they took their footwear off as to not drag the evidence of their mission all across the floor.

       (Not that it couldn't be easily cleaned. The skills which their siblings possessed would make cleaning blood the simplest task in the world. No, they were not concerned that the blood would stain the floor or any of the carpets. In their mind, it was more about respecting the home that Father built and not tarnishing it with the blood of unworthy fools. That was what they were concerned about.)

       Once their shoes were secured in their hand, they peered inside. It was vacant and silent. The only sound that filled the room was the quiet crackling coming from the active fireplace.

       Most of their siblings were probably out, they thought, but someone had to be home if the flames were still burning. For safety reasons, everyone was required to put it out, should the House be completely vacant. Someone was home, then.

       They felt no particular need to hide themselves in this state; it wasn't exactly uncommon for a child to return either bruised and beaten or soaked with blood that may or may not have been their own, or some combination of both. Such was the nature of living in the House of the Hearth; everyone came home like that at one point or another. It was mere curiosity that made them wonder who was home. 

       The little ones, Foltz or Heloir? No, Father did not permit them to be home alone with the fire burning, since they were too young and small to handle fire correctly.

       Perhaps Lyney or Lynette, then? But those two had a show scheduled for tonight (one that they were a little upset to have to miss, but their sadness was met with reassurance by the twins, that they would both be more than happy to give them an exclusive show so that they would get to see what they missed).

       Freminet? Maybe, but he was probably with the twins or out diving. He had mentioned that he was going to go if Father did not assign him any new missions.

       With gentle steps, they made their way inside, closing the door behind them using their vacant hand.

       A smooth, elegant, and calm voice called out to them:

       "Welcome home, child."

       "Ah." That's who was home, then. They turned to face the Knave with a polite bow of their head. "Good evening, Father."

       Her gaze pinned them under the weight of scrutiny, eyes quickly taking in their disheveled appearance and tired disposition. "That blood is not yours, is it?"

       There was a vague twinge of something in her tone that they could not quite identify.

       Arlecchino was not a particularly easy woman to read, so it never much bothered them when they could not discern what she was thinking or feeling. Most couldn't. It was not a lack of ability on their part; it was simply a fact of life. The Fourth Harbinger was not a person easily understood.

       …But somehow, it almost felt like she was concerned.

       "No, it isn't," they replied.

       Whatever it was that took hold of her tone a moment ago had dissipated, snuffed out like the small flame of a candle.

       "Good. Go clean yourself up, then. You may deliver an oral report to me later. Worry not about a prompt delivery—concern yourself first with recovery." She turned on her heel. "Oh, and… [Name]?"

       "Yes, Father?"

       "You are not to partake in any missions tomorrow. Do not allow your siblings to include you in any of theirs, either."

       'Do not get roped into your siblings' messes,' is what she meant to say. Their lips twitched upwards in poorly-concealed amusement. She almost certainly could hear it in their voice. She said nothing, however—perhaps she herself was vaguely amused by the implication of her own statement, or perhaps she was endeared by their capacity to clearly and completely understand what she meant to say.

       "Yes, Father."

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Flames and shadows danced and flickered on the walls, their dance of light and dark uniquely mesmerizing.

       The radiating warmth of the fire caressed their skin, kissing away any of the cold that they might have felt as a consequence of the remaining water droplets clinging to their hair.

       Falling asleep sounded so very tempting, surrounded by the hearth's warmth and safety, sitting… somewhat comfortably on the soft, red rug right with their back partially supported by the sofa behind them.

       It wasn't exactly… uncommon for many of their siblings to take naps here, though that was typically during the day when the golden rays of the sun filtered in through the open window.

       (Lyney and Lynette were notoriously fond of sleeping here in the afternoon when the sun streamed in so perfectly, bathing the carpet in its golden light until it became as warm and cozy as a blanket—they sometimes wondered if it had to do with those two's feline genes, though they dared not ask, in the case that either one would take their question the wrong way.

       They probably wouldn't, especially Lyney. They're certain he would find amusement in their musings… or maybe he would get terribly embarrassed?

       …Ah, well. They wouldn't pry. It was more entertaining to speculate nevertheless.)

       It was not daytime. It was nowhere near daytime.

       If they had to guess, it was more than likely the middle of the night; the only light that filtered in from that window was the cool moonlight, though it's cold light was largely drowned out by the flames roaring in the fireplace.

       Still…

       Sleeping right where they were sounded so much more appealing than getting up and making the lengthy trek to the room they shared with some of their siblings…

       Truly, honestly, they had only intended to rest their body for a moment.

       However, after what felt like a never-ending battle with microsleeps, they allowed their eyelids to flutter shut and finally succumbed fully to sleep, the crackling of the fire cooing its goodnights into their ears.

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Arlecchino was a woman not easily fooled.

       That much was a given, of course, considering her status as the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers. The fact that she was a Fatui Harbinger was enough of an indicator of her sheer perceptiveness on its own—surely nobody in such a high position could be anything other than observant. A Harbinger at all, let alone a Harbinger so highly ranked, could not afford to be anything besides calculated, cunning, and sharp-eyed.

       Her understanding of their state was instantaneous; the very moment they walked in the door, she knew.

       She had seen the utter exhaustion seeping into their bones, permeating their very being and making even the simplest tasks quite a bit more challenging. It was all too clear to the Knave, as clear as the most cloudless of days, visible in the way their shoulders slouched and the way their eyes drooped.

       She knew from the very moment they had stumbled—stumbled, their feet barely coordinated and legs struggling to support the rest of their weight—into the house, tired and dazed though still able to muster up respect and courtesy when faced with her. Had they been faced with one of their siblings, Arlecchino was certain that their formality would have quickly crumbled into nothing, but because it was her, they had maintained near perfect diplomacy and grace.

       Nevertheless, they still failed to hide how worn out they truly were (but perhaps that was because she was the person she was; had it been any non-Fatui member, their exhaustion may have slipped by entirely unnoticed).

       Therefore, it was only natural for her to check on them.

       That was part of her responsibility as Father—to know how her children were doing, physically or otherwise, at any given time. A healthy child made for a good soldier. An unhealthy child, less so.

       …But their state of being could only make her sigh as she walked over to them, steps light and soundless as to not disrupt their rest.

       They needed it. That much, Arlecchino was extremely aware of. She was nonetheless irked at their blatant lack of consideration for their own body; sleeping in the position that they were, neck craned uncomfortably against the edge of the sofa and body still incredibly tense, would only serve to strike their body with in great pain the following morning. It was simply unhealthy, but it was also inconvenient, considering the responsibilities that loomed over their shoulder like a shadow of the past that could never be shaken.

       The Knave slipped behind them, gingerly lifting their head with a pleasantly warm hand (though her rings were considerably chilly, but the sting was also a rather pleasant sensation against their skin) so that she was able to situate herself behind them.

       Then, she gently laid their head back down. Now, however, their neck was offered far greater support by her thigh, and her mind was soothed. No longer did the Fourth feel that they would awaken sore and stiff.

       Nails raked across their face and delicately brushed at the hair slightly sticking to their forehead; it had mostly dried by now, but there was still residual moisture clinging to their hair, causing it to adhere—albeit weakly—to their skin. Their eyelids seemed to twitch somewhat. A soft hush from their caretaker, however, and they ceased stirring.

       Mad and cursed. To an extent, perhaps those labels were true; Arlecchino was mad and cursed, but then maybe her children found comfort and safety in her madness and her curses.

       They most certainly did, for despite the brief consciousness they regained, they were quick to allow themselves to be lulled back into a peaceful sleep under the watchful eyes of Father.

       Perhaps "madness" was subjective.

       ...Or perhaps her heir was simply following in her footsteps, slowly descending the same path she did, gradually growing to be as mad as she.

       "Dearest child of mine…" she mused aloud, the tones of her voice soft enough to ensure that they would not begin to rouse once again yet not quite faint enough to be regarded as a whisper. Something one might call fond flickered in her voice as she went on, hand coming to a slow stop and settling on the top of their head: "How foolish you can be."

       The darkness creeping up Arlecchino's arms day by day, indicative of her curse's growing severity, was sated, ceasing its ascent for the time being.

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