#Master: 🪦 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pursuitseternal · 1 year ago

Text

Spend “A Night with the Ascendant:” the Dark Lord Astarion and his concubine spawn

Ascended Astarion x His Spawn (Lumina) | 🪦Dead Dove | 7k of harem/concubine smut

Summary: The Vampire Ascendant of the Crimson Palace takes an interest in his newest spawn and prize. She is a radiant young woman who defies his expectations of servitude among the throng of beautiful concubines, all the rest who await his attention in their gilded cage.

CW: Dub!Con, Harem dynamics, consorts/concubines, public sex, degradation, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, Oral sex male recieving, somnophilia if you squint, shared love of books, a hint of a softer side to the exalted master, and an Ascended Vampire Lord who finds himself far too comfortable around his obedient spawn.

A/n: assumes no “in game romance” No Tav… no one.

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥

“The little girl, from the little shop, with the name that means “light…”

Some silken voice woke her. The ghost of his laughter swirled in her ear through her sleep. Her dreams were harsh and restless. Her body was sore, as if knit back together after being torn asunder.

Head spinning, body wracked in the ebb of pain, but she stirred. Alive.

Lumina woke on a little bed, the scent of perfume cloyed in her throat. Her very parched, very thirsty throat. Her belly gnawed, unspeakably hungry. Her eyes flew open to the strong environs— a small freshly made bed beneath her, a chest in the corner, wash basin and a vast array of bottles beside it. Each was brightly colored and brimming with oils and soaps and fragrances.

Her nose could smell them through the glass. Her eyes could read the labels, even at this distance. Her head swam with all the input, all of her senses sharp and overloaded as she struggled from her bed.

Three of her walls were a smooth, white stone, but the fourth…. Bars, inlaid with gold and etched with filigree and filament.

A gilded cage.

Rising quickly, she took the pitcher in her washstand, trying to slake that thirst at last. But after even a single drop of water hit her tongue, she knew for certain it wasn’t water for which we thirsted.

Blood.

She had read enough books, sold enough copies of The Curse of the Vampyr to know full well what she was. She vaguely remembered being hooded and whisked away from her Keeper’s back room. His gruff voice happy to have her gone and his debts paid all at once.

He would burn in the hells for this and everything he had done. His little shop of spells and scrolls and books wouldn’t keep him from the recompense coming to him. She had been one of a long list of indentures who suffered from his greed.

Thirst, hunger, pain… it was no different now. At least her cage was gilded and her bed was stuffed with feathers.

But there was the bloodlust. The agony. The need to feed.

Even as her hand started to claw at her throat, she heard the sounds of movement from the hall.

She heard whimpering, pleading. Some musical feminine voice just near her cell spouted out such pretty words. “Please my lord… I’ll do anything my lord… take me, fuck me, drink me near to dry… I’ll be good this time…”

“Shut up!” A voice sliced through her hissing and whining. And instantly she was silenced.

Lumina heard the swing of metal on hinges, the click of the lock once it closed. “Now,” that same voice purred. And instantly, Lumina’s gut twisted. She had heard it. In her head. In the darkness. In her fitful dreams. “As my first consort has left me so…” he huffed, “…unsatisfied, I guess I’ll just have to select another for tonight.”

Footsteps echoed on the floor. That velvet voice slunk closer with each word. Until he stood before her.

His head cocked as he looked her up and down, bright scarlet eyes that glowed just a touch, a combed and coiffed tousle of silver hair. Manicured to look mussy. He stared at her, unmoving.

And Lumina stared back. He was tall, lithe and strong, his jacket embroidered to perfection, a mix of golds and silvers and beads that wound around his shoulders and chest. His breeches…

Fuck.

They gaped at the waistband, the smooth pink head of a cock peeking from the dark material. She could watch it twitch as her eyes undoubtedly widened to see it staring back.

Unbothered that she should see it, he grinned at her reaction. He wanted her… everyone to see him. Unsatisfied, requiring more.

“You’re awake at last, my newest little spawn,” he smirked as he closed in on her barred cell. “How do you feel?”

She froze. Keeping her mouth silent as she often had before. Handsy shop goers, clients in the back rooms. She would stare them off; it worked before. Most of the time. And then if not she had other recourses and tricks.

But even as her mind began to spin ideas of how to reply, she could feel him in there. A pressure, a poke. A command to reply. So she shut her lips tighter.

His presence swelled, that poke became a chokehold, throttling her mind as her lips opened. “I feel new… pained… different, my Lord Astarion.”

“Good girl,” he replied, a bit of praise that accompanied a bit of a smile.

And it made something in her gut warm all over to receive it.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t take the time to make you… acquainted… with your new lodgings here at the Crimson Palace.” His lips sneered back, voracious and delighted. “And we can tend to educating you in your duties as well. Two birds, one stone sort of thing, darling.”

Lumina still held still, her body growing hot at his plans. “You mean sex, my lord…” It wasn’t a question.

“Well… you’re my lowest, newest concubine, but a concubine nonetheless.” He gave her a dramatic sigh. “Hopefully you fare better than the most experienced one here did tonight.” He turned, looking over his shoulder to shake his head and tut his tongue. “So disappointing.”

Lumina stepped to the side to catch a glance at the consort in question. She was tall, elegant and regal in bearing. Tiefling. Unfamiliar. And her dark eyes that matched her dark skin settled back on her with vitriol and loathing.

Minutes awake, newly vampiric, and she already had an enemy. Lumina’s eyes scanned back to the Master as he returned that assessing gaze on her once more. His pleasure… his approval would be weathervane at best, it seemed. She could already tell from the way his deep set eyes narrowed, how his legs spread with the stance of confidence and power. But it was what she needed— what she would seek to survive.

“What would you have me do, my lord?” she kept her voice soft, submissive, tilting her head down to look at him through her lashes. A trick she had learned in her twenty-some years of indentured servitude.

“A promising beginning.” His lips twisted to one side, that left brow arching rakishly. Suddenly the gate released, and he beckoned her out, crooking a single, long-nailed finger in her direction. “Perhaps you can show your betters what to do for me, hmm?” She obeyed, treading on her bare feet across the bright marble floor until she stood before him. She had always been shorter, but there was something about his bearing, his demeanor and power that made her curl in, feel small.

“Well, I didn’t even have to compel you, curious…” he cast his condescending gaze back at the towering and fuming Tiefling consort behind her bars.

Lumina glanced carefully down the hall—rows of similar cells stretched on… a dozen eyes, all glowing red, locked on her.

His chosen for the night.

She could feel his breath before his touch. His fingers gripped firmly around her jaw, turning her head, angling her up so she had nowhere to look but those piercing, enticing red eyes. “You are one of many, little spawn, but you are untested, and that makes you… interesting. Shall we taste but a sample of what you have to offer?”

His lips consumed her before she could suck down air, that hand at her jaw spun her, shoved her back against the bars. His taste was of fire and wine, burning and sweet. And entirely intoxicating.

A tug at the skirt of her flimsy little shift, and she knew what was coming. Unavoidable. Not unwanted either now that his taste was on her tongue, and not when his tongue was thrust so tantalizing between her lips. Her hands pulled the fabric faster, making his lips smirk as he worked them against her mouth.

Three fingers swept quickly between her legs, his thumb pushing past the soft curls on her mound. And he sneered a bit. “I’ll forgive you this once,” he growled, disapprovingly. “I keep my concubines clean shaven. A pity for you human ones, but you’ll just have to obey me, my pet.”

“Yes, my lord.” The words flew from her mouth before they even passed her brain.

“Given how wet you are already, however, I’m sure you’ll more than make it up to me. So new and willing and obedient…” his voice failed, those fingers drawing deeper inside her, back and forth. His fingers crooked hard and fast, making the wettest, most obscene noises he could from between her legs.

“Doesn’t she just sound eager and ripe?” He lifted his head from hers, cocking his chin at the closest one watching.

The first consort hovered behind her, her breath was cold against Lumina’s neck. It was her cage he had pressed her against, her punishment enacted where Lumina was but a weapon to use.

“Want to see if I’ll fit?” hegrowled, again over her shoulder. “Shall we test it… and see?”

“Whatever pleases you, my lord…” the Tiefling hissed, her deep and sultry voice was so close behind Lumina’s head that it tickled her ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed delightedly and darkly, one hand moving between their bellies. “Seems you’ve remembered your place, at least a little…” Then his head returned to glare down at her. “But this one is adorably short. Assist her, Morana.”

His command tingled in the air pulling at both their bodies, she could tell. The Tiefling panted and hissed as her clawed hands slid under Lumina’s armpits to hoist her higher up the bars. She held on for but a moment, until she dropped quickly.

His cock waiting to catch her, his thigh braced her fall. He roared in her ear, hands gripped into her hips so he could fuck. Split apart, so full, her body cried out in blissful agony. It had been awhile since she had a lover… and none was like this. His shaft pumped hard and fast, his breath tingling and hot in the crook of her neck.

“Why…” he panted, loud enough for the others to hear. “You’re perfect, wet and tight as if never taken, you sweet little spawn.”

That silken voice, those honeyed praises, they settled right in her belly, pooling just where the head of his cock had rammed her already senseless.

“But I would hate to debase you completely before your peers. Hate to spoil in public… what I will have in the comforts of my chambers.”

With a groan, he pulled out. His cock, pale and veined, twitched to be denied. Her feet slammed on the floor, her body thrown forward until she almost crashed into him. But she caught one hand on a golden jail bar behind her. Just in time.

“They’ve seen enough, little Lumina,” he purred again, his fingers smelled of her slick as he clutched at her chin again. “And I, why, I have just begun to have my fill of you.”

Lumina shuddered under the intensity of his gaze, his sharp face twisted in that sensual smirk, his hand still pulling at her jaw. Bringing her in for one more biting kiss. One more that made her head spin and her legs shake.

Voices called from down the hall, a mixed chorus of male and female.

“Be sure to bite him…”

“He loves it when you swallow, dear…”

“Use just a little teeth, he will thank you for it…”

“Hush, the lot of you,” he hissed, a snarl on his lips, those pointed fangs now in her sight as she trembled. “Stop toying with the precious, little thing,” he turned down to kiss her once more. Almost a chaste little peck. “That is my right as your maker, dear.” He let her go, her flesh suddenly ice cold without his burning touch. “Come, Lumina.”

There it was again, that push in her mind, like tendrils of him woven into her nerves, making her feet follow him from the dungeons.

Halls stretched before them, stair after stair, winding up higher into the palace. All was gilded with creams and scarlets and sable. All was decadent. Magnificent and mouthwatering.

Not unlike its Master.

He was quiet, turning an infrequent smile down on her from time to time. Certainly every time her thighs squelched with wetness.

Of course, as they reached the topmost landing he turned, flashing some wicked smile as he caught her hand from her side. His cock still poked from the top of his waistband, barely contained and leaking as he brought her hand to his lips. “Tonight I bring you to my rooms myself, make you acquainted with your new living situation, but from now on, you’ll come when I summon you…” He paused sweeping her hand from his lips face to press it hard against that raging erection.

She gasped and swallowed the sound quickly.

“…if I summon you that is… much depends upon how you please me this evening.” He laughed, backing her into the open door behind him. She couldn’t take in the surroundings, not yet. Not when she lost herself in the scarlet glow of his eyes and perfect flash of his fangs. He was all sensuality and luxury set in ivory skin, his voice dripped in arousal, no matter what degrading things he purred down at her. “It is quite the coveted role, spending the night with the Ascendant. I’m sure you could feel all their jealousy, could cut their envy with a knife…”

He let out a giggle, pulling her hand from his cock to tug her flush against his body again. The room was dark. Soft little candles gave off flickering lights, lights that caught in his silver hair and refracted in his gaze. “But you’ll do your best to please me, I’m sure of it, little spawn,” he rasped right in her ear, allowing his lips to brush over the smooth, rounded edges letting his warm breath flow down her neck. “It is only your first day as my creation…”

He sat himself on the edge of his bed, a grand thing, four postered and canopied in scarlet silks and velvets. Hands pressed into the covers behind him, a little groan in his throat as he leaned back.

Letting his cock ease from his dark breeches a bit more, giving it a few strokes as he did so.

“My little spawn, come here,” he ordered, clear and concise. Direct enough to send a shudder down her spine at its snapping tone. “Kneel.”

Her body paused, eyes wide as she took in the sight of… him… his cock… his rooms. All of it.

And then those tendrils tugged at her thoughts again, ordering her body lower and lower. She had always been slightly smaller, but now, crouching on her knees, brought to kneel at his feet, she never felt so small. So insignificant. So lucky to have been chosen despite it.

“Lumina,” he breathed and slid his legs further from bed, until they crowded her in from either side. “A curious little name. I’m sure you were quite the brilliant light in your past life, like your name suggests.”

No, I wasn’t.

“Yes, my Lord Astarion,” the automatic reply sounded from her lips. And he hadn’t even compelled them. They just seemed safer.

He preened, a slight buck of his hips at the way her voice rolled out his name. She noticed. A gaping, fang-showing smile and he cocked his head. “You know why I chose you? Well… other than to pay off your master’s debts, of course….”

Lord Astarion grinned— something wicked and feral beneath that smile. “How could I pass up damning the little girl, from the little shop, with the name that means light to an eternity of darkness in my bed?” He sighed, deep and long and loud, from where he still perched at the edge. From where he held court before her at his bedside. His legs were so long, almost brushing her, where she knelt at his feet. The bed creaked as he arched back on his hands. Aroused. Pleased. “It’s too delicious an irony to pass up, wouldn’t you agree?”

The pressure in Lumina’s mind reinserted itself. His power, his presence made a smile come to her pressed lips as she heard her own voice give a sweet noise of assent. “Yes, my lord…”

“Such a good little girl,” he purred, leaning forward to pull her by her collar. “Now, open.”

She batted her eyes shut, slowly letting her mouth hang open, her pink tongue to just barely cover her lower lip. The second that salty, bitter tang on his cock brushed the tip, she lapped greedily, letting him slide deeper into her mouth.

And she earned herself a rumbling groan from above. “Gods,” he crooned, “you’ve done this before, haven’t you, little spawn?”

She just smiled, flicking a glance up, a bat of her lashes as she took him deeper, sucking on and off, up and down. He leaned further back into the bed, legs splayed out, long and lazy.

“And here I thought you some virginal thing, needing instruction and guidance. A pleasant surprise….” One had reached to brush back her bright golden locks, planting a firm grip at the back of her neck. Not pushing her rhythm, rather he rode it, savored it, as she worked with tongue and lips and cheeks.

It was warped praise, but it was enough to ignite a little boldness. Her cold fingers slipped past the base of his cock into the warmth of his trousers, reaching to cradle softly around his balls.

So smooth and taught. Almost ready to blow. She gave that smooth, soft pad of skin a gentle rub, a subtle tug. And all the while she kept her mouth busy, wet enough and loud enough to fix his gaze on her.

On where she knelt at his feet. Submitting. Sucking every little bit of that velvet skin, relishing the pulse that thrummed through its length. Swallowing every little eking drop of his seed as it leaked onto her tongue. Every little trick she had learned before, every move that made her handful of encounters and lovers pleasured, she used every one. It was easy with him, the way he began to groan out sweet little nothings. “Faster…. Deeper… yes.” His voice sent shivers right to her cunt, soaking down her thighs more the faster she bobbed back and forth.

Until he gripped into her hair and yanked her off. Holding her steady over his thighs, he rubbed himself in his tight fist all the faster. The wet beat increased in speed until he came, streams of cum dripping down her cheeks, her chin. His voice barely more than a groan as he sighed at the sight. Lumina’s little tongue lapped it from her lips, using one hand to gather it from her face, licking her fingers clean.

“Hells below,” he grinned, ever so rakish, ever so pleased. “You’re quite the slut aren’t you? Like the way I taste on your tongue, the way I dry on your skin, hmm?”

“Yes, my lord,” she simpered, sitting back on her heels.

“Incredible, little spawn. You’ve more than earned a reward, darling,” he stood, once again unbothered to clean his leaking cock or return it decently away. No, instead, he stood, keeping his gaze fixed on hers. Smirking all the wider as her dark eyes followed him across the room, darting between his face and the away his hardened cock bobbed up and down as he swayed.

A little cabinet opened in the wall across the room, and only then did Lumina take in the grandeur of his chambers. The far wall was entirely lined with books, big bright beautiful spines glowed in the light of the massive fireplace adjacent.

It stole her breath away, having spent years working in servitude to sell them… those and whatever other shit her old keeper had to peddle.

Seeing such a massive collection of books, so cared for and well-tended, she could almost catch a glimmer of who her new master was beneath that embroidered veneer of power and sex.

But it faded the second he grabbed a bottle from one shelf, a golden cup in the other, a red beverage pouring loudly. Lumina smelled it before she saw it. Blood. At last.

He seated himself in the large, plush wing-backed chair by the fire, crimson gaze burning her skin as he gave himself a long, slurping sip.

A small, scarlet line slipped from the corner of his lip as he offered the cup to her. “Drink, my pet. You earned it. Sate that bloodlust for the first time, little spawn.”

She fairly scrambled on all fours, stumbling and catching herself as she raced for that little cup. She knocked it back in one swig, her breathing ragged as it filled her stomach just a bit, just enough to take the sharpest pains away. But as she lowered the cup, her stomach sank, Astarion only smiled at her. Bemused. The glass bottle still sat on the shelf. “Something you wish to ask of me?” he crooned.

“Please, my lord,” her hand shook, holding out the golden offering. “I’m so… so thirsty.

“I know my pet,” he cajoled, a little shake of his head, brows furrowed and mouth frowning in pity. “But you’ll have to earn more.”

“Tell me anything,” the words raced off her tongue, her body sinking back to her knees. She begged, tears in her eyes as she caressed up his thighs. Those dark pants were so soft under her touch. But there was too heavy a scent in the air for her to appreciate anything more. She wanted to lick that dribble still on his chin, wanted to drink her fill straight from the neck of the bottle…

Wanted to drink right from the pulsing artery in his own neck.

But the second that thought crossed her mind, those dark tendrils were there to seize it. “Ah, ah,” he chided. “None of that. You don’t get to taste any more of me than what has already covered your tongue, my spawn.”

“Then what will you have me do, my lord?” she forced the words through her thick throat, trying to swallow to chase the parched feeling away.

“Disrobe,” he snipped, reaching for that bottle of blood, taking a swig right from the opening just as she wanted too. “You’re not clothed in much, but I appreciate a demonstration of beauty.” Another swallow, louder this time, loud enough to make her lick her dry and swollen lips. “And aren’t you beautiful, Lumina.”

She could feel her sallow, cold-fleshed cheeks blush at his words. One hand pulled the little shift from over her head, a single fluid motion as she tossed it into his lap.

Oh, the way that smirk widened enough to show his teeth… it made her stomach knot all funny, made her body hotter than she thought possible for the undead.

He reached for the cup from her hand, filling it a bit more. Another little reward for her display. “Good girl, Lumina, my little light I think I’ll keep close to me.”

She swallowed the fresh offering down, setting it down on the floor beside his chair. Those drinks in her belly made her all the bolder, all the more alive.

“What will you do to earn even more, I wonder?” he purred, wagging the bottle slowly, eyes skimming down her pale, little body, tongue tip licking his fang as he smirked.

“Suggestions to entertain you, my lord?” she smiled so sweetly, decided to follow his gaze with a featherlight touch down her own body. She started on her neck, where his cum still dampened her skin, trailing it down her collarbone, grazing between her full and swaying breasts.

That made his tongue dart and lap at his lip, a predator licking his chops. “Very good…” he growled, leaning back and sliding his ass lower in the chair. “Now, take my cum on your fingers and touch yourself, darling…”

Another loud swallow in his throat as she obeyed. Not even a tendril of compelling required. Lumina did as she was told, lowering her eyes to watch her own hands, gathering one more streak of his seed from her shoulder before she slid it inside her folds.

Her eyes fluttered shut to finally feel an iota of release. She burned, wanting more since he fucked her quickly against those bars. Like lighting, pleasure flashed down her nerves, her fingers working so quickly to chase that swell of satisfaction that flared inside her.

“Enough,” he growled.

But she... couldn’t. She needed something. Needed to either satisfy the gnaw of her stomach or the inferno between her thighs.

Not compelling in her brain this time, Astarion gripped her by the waist, dragging her between his legs before he ripped her hand from her fold. “Bad girl,” he tutted, bringing her sopping fingers into his mouth to suck them clean.

And then he bit. Fangs tore into the heel of her palm. She cried in pain, a deep, wicked laugh was her answer from him as he drank from her. It was brief, but painful. And now she was left all the hungrier for it. “Learn your place, little spawn. You do as I say… nothing more, nothing less.” His voice was sharp, wild. With all the arrogance of one who has been obeyed for a century, perhaps longer.

“Sorry, my lord,” Lumina quickly stammered. Give him what he wants, she reminded herself. “I will obey you.” Added for good measure.

That softened the razor lines of his cheeks, his jaw unclenching to hear such sweet submission. “I’ll allow you another chance, little light,” he purred once more, all honey and silk in his tone. “Undress me.”

Amused glint in his crimson eyes, conceited smirk on his lips, he reclined against his chair. A single hand gestured lavishly over the clasps and buttons of his luxurious jacket. Lumina did not hesitate, careful to keep her wounded hand from offending his clothing, already clotting as she healed quickly.

A reminder she was now Vampiric, as if she could forget her new form with that hunger in her belly. She eyed the bottle in his hand still, watching the blood dance and slosh inside its green clear walls.

“Look at me, little spawn,” he hissed, her hands almost done with the heavy meal clasps before beginning the inner buttons. She acquiesced, quickly lost in the way his eyes hungered. They brimmed with power, but that dulled light of boredom was gone— its crimson now bright with curiosity, fascination. And for a moment, she let herself feel a hint of pride that she was giving him that.

Once his perfect, ivory chest was in sight, she let her fingers just brush down that deep groove between his muscles. She pushed the heavy clothing apart, mouth salivating the more she saw. And she doubted it was just the bond of him as her creator that caused such a visceral reaction to the sight of him…

Of his body.

A rolling, rumbling chuckle in his chest shook under fingers. That cool glass bottle was thrust against her belly. She caught it, smiling as he ordered her to drink. But even as she downed swallow after swallow, she watched his every elegant movement. So sleek as he pulled himself free from his clothing, he tossed it in a rumpled mess on the floor. He even slid his breeches from under his ass, hand gripped around that pale, achingly hard cock.

As he stroked himself, he watched her drink, watching the drips slink down her chin as she couldn’t help but drain that bottle dry. “Feel better?” he cooed, still absentmindedly stroking himself as he watched her clean her mouth on the back of her little hand.

Lumina sighed, the bottle dropping to the floor from her hand as it shook. She was finally fuller, finally more sated and happier and warmer. “Yes, my Lord Astarion,” she moaned in response. “Thank you.”

“So very polite you are. Oh, I like you. That genuine little sound in your voice as your small, curved body shakes to be near me. Yes,” he reached a hand towards her. Leaning forward, he clutched her in his own long fingers, “you’ll do very nicely, for quite awhile, I hope.”

“You flatter me, my lord,” she hummed, a little swivel to her hips, a slight stroke of her free hand over the crest of her mound. “Anything else I might do for you, Lord Astarion?”

He cocked his chin, face twisting and tweaking in flirtatious amusement. “I believe I can think of a thing or two… best send you back down to your quarters with enough cum to drip down your legs for days. That way they all know just how very much you’ve pleased me…”

She shivered, his words making her stomach drop to her toes, making her cunt twitch and ache to be filled. Her eyes grew wide watching him buck a little on the seat of his chair. “Finish your task, little spawn. Undress me completely.”

She knelt so quickly, hands pulling off the supple leather of his boots, unsheathing his legs one by one. His skin was so smooth, muscles bunched and taught under the little accidental brushes she made against his calves. Tossing it all to the side with his discarded jacket, she glanced up at him, the paragon of beauty, the image of power and sex she had fallen madly obsessed with.

It only took one night with him, one touch of his fingers, one taste of him on her tongue. She knelt happily and would obey.

His legs spread wide, a single slap of his hand on the top of his thigh. “Sit,” he commanded, and she flew to him, hovering over his cock just long enough for his sly hand to line that head just so. And sit, she did. His forehead pressed against her breasts, his breath hot as he sighed to fill her. Her body took command, hips riding that length that pushed and thrashed against the end of her channel. She looked at him, watching the soft curls of his silver hair tousling as she fucked him.

And then, she felt it. A warm sweep of his tongue on her full and rounded breast. He drew it into the heat of his mouth, sucking hard until he made her cry. Her hands braced carefully on his shoulders, the perfect height for her to grind up and down. Little buck after buck of his hips beneath her met every slap of her cunt on his thighs. But even that natural ride of her body on his grew harder with the way he swirled his tongue on her nipple. Hands wandered up and down her back, one finally stopped to cradle her other swinging breast.

A single brush of his razor-fangs on that perfect pink nipple, and she shattered. Writhing, twitching, there was no sensation in her body that wasn’t the pleasure he drew from her. It was blistering hot and all-consuming, her body going nearly limp to allow him to grab her by the waist and fuck up into her with abandon.

It was his turn. Those long nails scored into her back, drawing blood under his touch. Scraping lower, he clawed their sharp edges into the rippling flesh of her ass, making her moan so, so deliciously loudly. She was clay in his hands, knowing just how to respond to his touch, how to reply to his words.

More intoxicating than immortal life had been for decades.

Clenching, she shattered on his cock once more so soon. Lumina panted, starved of breath, unable to let her muscles relax and slow in post-coital bliss. He just gave her more, gave it to her harder. Until at last, he groaned. Practically lifting her with his strength to slam her back down with every thrust into her, until he finally let it all go. His voice hissed, growling and groaning as he came, filling up into her with spurts that stole even his undead breath.

Finally, she was allowed to soften in his arms. Cautious not to sprawl into him, to cuddle or savor the press of his body that had just given and taken so much. A few breaths, and he pressed his head against her shoulder for a moment.

As if he forgot for that moment he was the most powerful being in Faerûn.

“Get up,” he hissed, voice steeled over and sharp. Remembering himself.

Lumina did as she was told. Shaking and trembling, she reached for the bookcases to steady herself. Fingertips brushed the soft leather bindings, and it made her smile. Sweet little moments of comfort, the only ones she had all her life.

He was beside her in an instant. Gaze following where hers had been, his lips smiled faintly. “See one you like, little spawn?”

Lumina’s brow quirked in confusion. A delightful picture, he decided. A portrait of well-fucked surprise. “So many of them, my lord. I could hardly choose a single interesting star in the sky.”

“Choose one star for this evening, another for the next,” he turned away, a low throated chuckle as he left her. “One each time until I tire of you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, his twisted gift making her smile as she pulled a simple, blue leather-bound book from its shelf.

The bed creaked. And as she turned her stomach fluttered again to see, to feel those eyes piercing into her. Even as her slick and his cum slipped down her thigh, she burned for more. He held out two more cups, a fresh bottle on the nightstand to replenish them both. “Come, Lumina,” he bid her, loudly and formally. But the way his smile widened as she clutched the little blue bloom against her breasts, slinking closer as if she were shy, she knew something may have shifted.

If only slightly.

Cautiously, she slid into the scarlet sheets on the opposite side. That book still pressed into her body. He didn’t look away, proffering her that cup of replenishment as she leaned against the pillows. One arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Closer, my little spawn.” He flashed his fangs, raising his own cup to those conceited, smirking lips. “I would say I don’t bite, but…” his voice trailed off as he drank deeply.

Lumina slid closer, sipping slowly this time, thumbing the vellum pages’ edge, lost in her thoughts.

Something warm and heavy pressing into her lap threw her right back into her surroundings. The rooms of the Ascendant. His face rested on her lap. His head turned toward her, his breath was warm on her belly, where her skin reached up above the covers. “Not going to read while I allow you some respite, Lumina?”

“I…” she trailed off.

“Don’t you worry, little light. I’ll let you know when I am ready and eager for more of your submission, darling.” His voice sounded softer to her ears than the silks and downs of his bed. “And after all, from here…” that voice turned hungry, edged with velvet seduction again, “I’ll be more than ready to eat you right up.”

Shuddering from his words, she obeyed his suggestion. One hand held her cup, the cool, sanguine drink filling her up and chasing away that pain inside her. The other hand carefully opened the book to the side of her lap, turning the delicate pages with reverence. After a while, words began to swim, her immortal human body growing tired after all. But even the comfort of a book in her hands and the fresh stories between its covers didn’t soothe her more than the weight of his head on her lap…

The slowing breath from his nose on her belly…

The growing heaviness of sleep that filled her frame from his.

He nestled there on her thighs, eyes shut in trance, breath steady and peaceful as he rested.

Carefully, she set the empty cup down on the end table. Laying back, she soon drifted as well, and as she dozed off, her fingers unknowingly wrapped in the unruly tendrils of his silver locks.

Her sleep swept her away, body aching, lips swollen… It was finally a rest that was hunger free and soft. Sleeping with the Vampire Ascendant, unheard of in all the realms. She dozed, she knew not how long…

Until the sheets were ripped from her body, heaviness crushing her as he rasped in her ear, “Wake up, little spawn. Surely you don’t think I would let you merely sleep the night away.”

Astarion knelt between her thighs, hands raising them, forcing her knees to bend. Her sleepy eyes forced themselves open, watching that self-conceited smirk leer down at her, his erection bobbing so rigid and pink as he lined himself up.

“Come, Lumina,” he groaned as he sheathed himself in. “Rouse yourself, make yourself useful for once.” She arched her back, and sleep did quickly leave her limb, blinking the haze from her eyes. Those long fingers dug into her knees, his hips slapping hard and rough and wild. She could feel her blood drip from where he clawed into her skin, that essence swallowed by the scarlet sheets.

Every thrust drew sweet little pants, whimpering cries from her tired mouth. She couldn’t help it, not as he had his way with her, still half asleep but also half eager for more. And totally, completely drenched for his cock again. This time, it was all for him, his eyes glued to the way her breasts swayed with every ride of her body, her lips bitten by her own newborn fangs as she took his fucking so well.

Not one complaint, not one iota of resistance. No, she lounged, arms sprawled into the pillow, thighs opened wide for his use. Music drawn from her throat that resounded in his rooms, he loved it.

Loved it so much, he wanted to feel that sweet little cunt milk him, clench around his cock to take his spend so deep inside her, it would take days to drip its way out. A little sweep of his thumb into the peak of her folds, and he circled that hardened clit. So swollen, she instantly writhed and grinded back at the new source of pleasure. Panting, keening, she shuddered into the bed, the sharp edge of his fingernail digging slightly into her flesh, scoring around her clit’s thickened hood. Pain sliced through her pleasure. And as her hands gripped into the downy pillow, she thrashed in her climax. Ribbons of her arousal poured out around him, fire scalding hot down her limbs and pouring through her as she shuddered.

Every clench of her walls sucked him in harder, making it nearly impossible to drag himself in and out. A beautiful little burning light, burning hot just for him.

And they all would see it. Every last one of his spawn he kept for pleasure… they would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she pleased him. The vision of her, walking back down the halls of his harem, smelling like him, trails of her slick and his cum running down her heel to puddle on the floor. That book in her hand, a treasured gift to his new favorite…

“Fuck,” he groaned, her voice matching his in volume as she mewled all the louder. He split her open, slamming against that end of her. Untethered, uncontrolled as he spilled hard and fast inside her. His breath was heavy and damp, almost as much as his body as he laid on top of her, cock still buried deep inside her folds. He crushed her, covered her. Lumina needed to crane her head just to fit in the space of his neck to breathe.

Did she even need to breathe anymore? But even such thoughts melted, as he rested there. Again. So warm and blanketing her in all of him.

The air was thick with their scents, wet with their sweat. But she didn’t care. She would let him sleep until dawn like this if he willed it. Beyond smitten, addicted as she was instantly for more of him. Her Master.

One more deep inhale, and he pulled from her body. A brush of his hand down her cheek, he whispered to her. “Go, Lumina.”

She paused for a moment, aching to have to leave. Her gut twisted at the thought of returning to them all… in that place. But she swallowed that feeling back down. “If it pleases you…”

He gave a breathy laugh, reaching for the small blue book before he tossed it into the bed beside her. “Here, take this too. You can return it when I summon you again tonight.”

She knew she must have looked like a foolish girl, face beaming for a second in hope. Knowing she would be back… knowing he would have her again.

“Thank you, my Lord Astarion,” she tried not to sound too giddy.

He just gave a deep, breathless chuckle, rolling that perfect body, hewn from ivory by the gods themselves, back under his covers. “Clean yourself up this time, my little light. I won’t have anything less than perfection from you.”

“Yes, of course, my Lord Astarion,” she preened. Preened from the edge of his bed as she shuffled her little shift back on. As she grabbed for that small leather book to hug against her beautiful breasts. He rolled his back to her, not caring to watch her journey back.

Resting his head in the pillow, he could smell her still. For the briefest flash of a moment, he wished it had been her yielding thighs again beneath his head… No, that was a transgression he had been sure to rectify. He fucked all sentimentality on his part out of her. That book was a boon, a sign of favor that would claim her as his… his favorite. For now.

But as he laid in those damp, silken sheets, he thought of her hair in his fist, her dark eyes at knee-level. And his hand stroked his length again.

Night couldn’t come soon enough once more.

187 notes · View notes

sundayworshipper · 8 months ago

Text

*~Orthodoxia

«Sunday x Gn! Reader»

🪦| SFW, Angst, Undefined relationship, can be read as romantic/platonic (bed sharing, cuddling)| WC: ~11K

⚰️| CW: Inspired by the song Orthodoxia by Guchiry, misplaced religious worship (fictional religion), Sunday is a priest and cult leader, Small town cult setting AU, Third person prose (reader is referred to as [Name]), Major character death, Minor character death, Murder, SH? (Sunday), Allusion to suicide, Graphic descriptions of violence, Non sexual grooming, A bird dies, Ena=God, Gopher sucks ASS, mostly Sunday angst with reader being there sometimes, English isn’t my first language, non chronological, first fic ever （╹◡╹）

Credit for the commandments to Guchiry

A/N: This is so long 💀.. There’s a few plot holes? and the writing is kinda repetitive but i spent too long on this not to post. Extra warnings, beta read but not proofread, reader char is intentionally bland, not canon compliant/OOC-ish ∩^ω^∩.

EDIT: Oh god this got much more attention than I was expecting. I am (slowly) working on rewriting it 🤍

1. God’s great grace is given to those who are completely faithful.

Sunday inhaled deeply while tugging at his pristine white glove in an attempt of straightening it. In his mind, he looked like a complete mess, completely unfit for a High Priest. His Master and founder of the One True Religion, Gopher Wood, had recently taken his last breath, finally succumbing to the horrible illness that had tormented him for years. As his adopted son, the gray-haired halovian was to take on his duties post-haste. The young man only took half a day to compose himself enough to make a public statement. He probably would have taken longer, had he actually cared to pretend to grieve.

Upon deciding he was satisfied with the state of his attire, Sunday stepped out of the sascrity, taking his place at the pulpit. The gazes of all of his Master’s- no, his own followers, locked onto him, confused and impatient to hear the reason for Mr. Wood’s absence at yesterday’s service.

The man smiled, hoping that the way it didn’t reach his eyes wasn’t very obvious. After a few moments, he just decided to close them.

The fear of rejection by his followers felt as if it was rapidly piercing holes trough his insides, however, he knew that THEY wouldn’t fail him when he needed THEM most. After all, the first ever thing taught to those interested in the religion, is that good things come to those who believe.

2. Only the high priest is permitted to take God's name in vain.

“Fuck! God fucking damn it!” An unfamiliar voice screamed from an alleyway, which Sunday was just about to pass while on his routine walk. His wings twitched, and the ones on his torso tensed. He contemplated if this even counted as a violation of the second commandment, as the use of the words ‘God’ and ‘Lord’ had less restrictions than the uttering of the true name of the one they were referring to. He also thought about the possibility that ‘God’ was the three-faced idol the next town over worshipped, that maybe one of them had snuck in. He ultimately decided that using any heavenly title accompanied by such words was disrespectful, and he’d try to steer the speaker onto the right path, be they a follower of Order, Harmony, or something else entirely.

Despite the amount of information he mulled over, he really didn’t spend long thinking before rushing into the alley.

“Are you alright?” He inquired to the person that had emitted such obscene words just moments ago. Their clothes didn’t reflect those of a citizen in this town, nor the neighboring one’s. They whipped around to face him, wearing a frightened expression.

“Ah..Huh?” The emotion of surprise seemed to overshadow that of fear. Sunday gave an amused smile at this.

“Do not be afraid. I am Sunday, messenger of Ena. I heard you…Cussing, earlier. Judging by your attire, you are a foreigner, which explains that. However, I feel as if I should inform you that such an act is quite worrisome here.” He could no longer suppress his giggle, which confused the stranger.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm..Do not worry. Mind telling me how to address you? And, if you’re comfortable, what brings you here?” Sunday stepped closer, and leaned in towards the person.

“I’m [Name].” They replied, taking a step back. After spending a moment deciding whether or not to reveal the circumstances that led up to them ending up where they did, they concluded that he was trustworthy.

Sunday listened, and considered their words carefully.

“I see. Since you have no home, would you like to live with me, for the time being? I’ll help you find a job. All I ask is that you attend church and clean up after yourself.” He offered his hand, wings relaxing.

[Name]’s breath hitched. It wasn’t like they had many choices… If they stayed on the streets, they’d most certainly die. If they went with Sunday, the outcome had a slightly lesser chance of being the same.

After thinking very carefully, they took Sunday’s hand wordlessly.

3. Those who do harm to God's messenger, the high priest, will be expelled.

As much as Sunday wished he could forget the worshippers of Xipe existed, trade between the two towns was beneficial for everyone. After the death of Gopher Wood- who refused any sort of contact and terminated the transaction of goods-, Sunday begrudgingly sent one of his trustworthy followers to request that the old commerce deal be reinstated. And so, it was.

To the average citizen, all seemed well. However, Sunday could notice the way everyone that interacted with Xipe’s Worshippers on a regular basis attended church less and less often. He tried to brush it off as them being busy with such an important new task. This was until, on the seventh day’s service, the holiest of all, one of the traders defied the rules and interrupted Sunday’s sermon by standing directly next to him. The halovian’s heart skipped a beat, but he simply smiled.

“Good sir, are you not feeling well? This is not an appropriate place for you.” He placed a gentle hand on the trader’s shoulder. His kind act was met with a harsh slap which resounded through the entire chamber. However, his smile did not falter.

[Name], who had been sitting in the front row of pews ever since Sunday ‘rescued’ them, stood up, as did the woman next to them. They wanted to separate the two, but the priest extended a hand towards them as a sign to stop.

The atmosphere was painfully tense and uncertain, until the merchant reached into his pocket to retrieve his dagger. He then pressed it to Sunday’s throat, finally causing his expression to shift.

“You bastard… You rotten, filthy, deceptive scoundrel! You lied! All you and your good-for-nothing father have ever done is lie! You will pay for this.” The trader hissed, preparing to slice the man’s flesh. Sunday’s eyes narrowed as he effortlessly ripped the knife from his hands by the blade, cutting deep into his own palm. He then tossed it to the side, and grabbed the traitor by the neck.

“Tsk..What a shame. You were quite valuable.” He shook his head disappointedly before dragging him outside.

No one dared to follow… Except for [Name]. Before anyone could tell them not to, they sprinted after Sunday, finding him kicking his attacker in the stomach repeatedly just outside church doors. [Name] gasped, but they were cut off by the disgusting feeling of bile rising up their throat. This caused Sunday to turn his head. His eyes were wide, however, a disturbingly sweet smile stretched across his features. He delivered one final kick- to the chest this time- and quickly closed most of the distance between him and [Name].

“You shouldn’t have followed me. But, I suppose it’s my fault for not teaching you what to do in such situations.. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

[Name]’s eyes darted between the priest and the corpse he had just created. They soon murmured the first thought they could muster:

“Your hand..”

“I will be fine. Go back inside, and stay put. Service will resume shortly.” He smiled before promptly walking out of sight.

[Name] considered running for their life as far away from this town as geography would allow. However, something was holding them back. After taking a minute to process, they re-entered the church, earning dirty looks from the other members. Only the woman that had stood up alongside them earlier spoke to them.

“Don’t do that. No one wants to see what happens to those who get ‘expelled’.”

4. It is the high priest who is the rightful successor to God’s will.

Despite it not feeling like such, Sunday was once a child. He had a family as well, more or less. Although thinking of Gopher Wood as his parent made him feel sick to his stomach now, a brief period of time where this wasn’t the case existed.

After the traumatic loss of their parents, Sunday and his dear sister, Robin, were sent to an orphanage much like any other unfortunate soul in the same situation. Robin thought they’d be adopted within the year, but Sunday was already planning the way in which he’d make a living for himself the moment he became an adult. He’d save up any and all money he didn’t use strictly on survival to be able to sustain his sister when she reached the age of eighteen as well, he thought.

In a surprising turn of events, a man from a small, far away town, visited the orphanage only three months after the siblings’ arrival. He smiled the instant his gaze landed on them. Originally, Sunday thought it was because of their shared, relatively uncommon species, but he’d later come to convince himself that Gopher Wood saw something in them that day.

In what had to be record time, he had legally adopted them. As they rode the horse carriage to their new home, Robin snuggled close to her brother, and whispered an optimistic ‘I told you so’. Sunday simply smiled, for the first time since the death of their mother.

The first day felt like the most fun a recently orphaned child could have. They were given various sweet treats by their new neighbors, and a tour of the town. Everyone seemed to dote on them, which almost made the young boy finally lower his guard fully. He thought he was safe at last, and could heal.

Big mistake.

That very night, Sunday was ripped from bed by his eerily silent ‘father’. Before he could even ask what he was doing, a hand had been slapped over his mouth. He, being docile and untrained at the time, allowed himself to be molded like clay.

In less than an hour, Sunday had been exposed to things that would shatter the mind of most children into pieces. At the end of his extensive explanation, Gopher took Sunday to the dark, empty church, where he forced him to kneel in front of the altar. Because he hadn’t succumbed to the information that he had to forcibly ingest, Gopher considered him a worthy heir, and introduced him to Ena as such.

And yet, that was not the point where he stopped seeing that man as family. In fact, he never saw anything wrong with that behavior. He always felt so proud to be chosen, entrusted with such an important position.. Gopher said he was special. Smart. Nearly perfect. He was everything he could’ve ever wanted in a son. The knowing glances they exchanged as Robin discovered the surface rules of the religion at the pace that everyone else except for him did made Sunday feel good.

For about a year, Sunday loved his life. He felt as if he finally had a purpose..

On the night of a seventh,going into first day of the week, in the latter half of November, Sunday found himself choking back tears on the bathroom floor, knees hugged tightly to his chest along with his discarded shirt. Gopher Wood, that monster, sat behind him, trimming away at the child’s lower wings. When he was done, he’d move on to permanently tainting them black, like his own.

‘The truest act of devotion’ he called it. To prove their loyalty to Ena, high priests had to discard something they held dear at a young age.. For halovians, their wings were naturally their pride and joy, so, the dark haired man picked those for him. Sunday asked to be allowed to choose something, anything else, but his request was declined.

Of course, this wasn’t any form of religious practice. Gopher had made it up to further mold his poor victim into what he needed him to be. Every time the boy dared to show any feelings regarding that action, he reminded him that as the high priest, all his actions were carried out trough God’s will.

Sunday never wore a base layer of clothing that didn’t almost perfectly match his new wing color after that. He felt hideous, and he’d rather have people think he lost his wings completely than show off the cruel defilement he’d endured.

Since then, Sunday could no longer see him as a father. Of course, he still respected and obeyed him, as not doing so would be disrespectful to THEM, too. After all, priests were naught but a mirror of their God’s desires.

5. God’s teachings are the divine providence of this world.

Sunday tossed in bed, wings wrapping around his face as he groaned quietly. He was tormented by thought, and couldn’t sleep.

Upon the passage of one hour, he rose from his spot, and slowly stepped out of his room. [Name] slumbered on his couch, as they had since the first time Sunday brought them home. He felt bad for not being able to provide them a proper bed, and made a mental note to work on that soon. After all, it wasn’t like it cost much, or… anything at all. He was just a very busy man.

The priest then stepped on the single creaky floorboard in the entire house, alerting his roommate.

“Sunday..?” They yawned, rubbing their eyes as they blinked them open.

“Ah. I’m sorry that I woke you.”

“It’s alright,, but what are you doing up so late? And why are you going out?”

“Mm. I need a walk, to clear my head. I’m finding it hard to rest well tonight.”

“Me too. I barely even fell asleep a few minutes ago, and it was so light.” [Name] stretched their back as they spoke.

“I see. Do you want to join me?” He offered, and the other person excitedly accepted, standing up and almost stumbling. Sunday caught them, helping them to stand better. They gave a grateful look in response.

The two then exited the house, the cold night breeze gently biting at their skin. They set a comfortable pace as Sunday directed them to the woods across the river that served as town border. [Name] hadn’t gotten the chance to go there yet, as it was ill-advised to venture too far from the town.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m going to murder you for your sins?” Sunday smiled, turning his face away so [Name] couldn’t see.

“I do! It’s just that… Wait, have I sinned?”

“Of course you have. You are still new to our religion, you’re bound to make mistakes. Even devout believers sin sometimes, but God forgives all, therefore so do I.”

“Do you sin?”

“Me? No. Sinning would be disgraceful to our Lord. I mean, if even the high priest doesn’t carry himself as THEY intended, how would any normal person be inclined to either?”

“True.. Doesn’t it get exhausting having to be perfect all the time, though?”

“Not at all. Do you know the fifth commandment?”

“God’s teachings are the divine providence of this world?” [Name] cocked their head at him, almost tripping on a fallen branch in the process.

“Very good. As the high priest, I have to know these teachings better than any other mortal. The stronger one’s knowledge, the stronger they feel God’s love.”

“Oh. I never thought about it like that.”

“Well, now you have.” He halted, left arm occupying its spot behind his back as usual. [Name] stopped as well, confused.

“Why’d you stop? Aren’t walks supposed to be continuous?”

“Yes…Would you mind pausing here for a moment? If I’m not mistaken, this is the clearing I used to come to for respite when I was a child. I have no time for such things anymore, but it brings me a sense of nostalgia.”

[Name] nodded, and awkwardly walked closer to Sunday. There didn’t appear to be any sitting spots, so they just took a moment to appreciate nature’s beauty.

Not much time later, Sunday decided it had gotten far too late to be outside any longer. As they trekked back home, the priest noticed [Name] become slower by the second. He offered to carry them, and in a moment of exhausted weakness, they accepted. They’d soon fall unconscious in his arms.

The following morning, [Name]’d find themselves in Sunday’s bed, with him nowhere to be found.

Confused, they stepped into the living room. Sure enough, the man was curled up on the couch.

6. To disobey God is to deviate from Paradise.

[Name] was integrating nicely into the town already. While trying to decide what job they should try land, they picked up gardening as a short pastime. Sunday had graciously lent them a patch of his backyard to plant things in, so long as they managed to keep it free of weeds. They agreed, and were doing a great job so far. The first thing they tried was strawberries, as it was the optimal season for planting them.

[Name] decided to ask the neighbors to see if anyone had any runners they could borrow.

“Hello!” They waved at an older lady who was conveniently planting something in her own garden. She lifted her head, smiled, and waved back.

“…Ahem. I was wondering if you had any strawberry runners? I want to grow strawberries… I don’t have any money right now, but I’ll pay you for them someday!”

“Ah, such nonsense.. Since Mr. Wood saved us, money is obsolete.”

“Huh? Then why do people still have jobs?”

“So they don’t get bored, of course! If you’re worried about payment, pay with a favor. Give some to Mr. Sunday when they’re ripe. I’m sure he hasn’t had strawberries since Miss Robin… Ah, nevermind, I’ll fetch ‘em for you.” The lady hobbled into her house, leaving [Name] confused. They made a mental note to ask Sunday about this ‘Robin’ someday.

The woman soon returned, and handed the runners to [Name], eagerly.

“Here you go, dearie. Give some to me too, if I’m still around by then…” she chuckled, trailing off into a cough.

“Don’t say that.. But, I will! Thanks so much!” They waved again, and sped off to plant the strawberries.

About three months later, the fruits were ripe. [Name] was utterly delighted… They looked absolutely perfect, as if it was obvious from a glance that they had the perfect texture and amount of juice. They quickly collected them all in a basket, and ran inside, where Sunday was actually home, for once. [Name] was happy about this, and hurried to separate the basket’s contents into bowls. The priest tilted his head at them, curious.

“I see you’ve made good use of the land I gave to you.” He hummed observantly.

“Mhm! I couldn’t have done it without the grandma across the street, though. I have to give her a portion back, but.. She asked for something else as payment.”

“Oh?”

[Name] handed Sunday a full bowl, happily.

“She wanted me to give this to you! She said you probably haven’t eaten any since some Robin something something..”

Sunday froze, and his breathing paused abruptly.

“Who’s Robin anyway? It sounds like you know her…”

“Robin is a sinner who denied our Lord’s presence in her life. She is where she deserves to be right now.” His voice had a weird edge, almost as if it was breaking.

“She’s not someone you should concern yourself with again. Ahem; thank you for the gift. It was very thoughtful of you. Send my regards to the neighbor, too.” He left, strawberry bowl in hand.

[Name] frowned, dejectedly dragging themselves and one of the remaining strawberry bowls to the neighbor’s house. She was in the yard once again, so they just walked up to her.

“Ma’am! I picked the strawberries today!” They handed her the dish.

“Thank you, dear. You gave them to Mr. Sunday too, yes?”

“Of course. He said to give you his regards. But, something weird happened. When I asked him about Robin, he just said she was a sinner. That wasn’t much of an answer, so could you tell me more, please?”

“Really? Hm. I wouldn’t expect him to be that cold towards the memory of his own sister…”

“…What?”

“I’ve said too much. Please leave.”

[Name] frowned, but did as asked. It was taking them some time to accept the fact that there were certain topics everyone seemed to get tense around..

7. To harbor doubts about God is to suffer the disintegration of thought.

Gopher Wood always despised the neighboring town, in which he was born, raised, and first established his religion. He hated not having control over every single atom there, so, he left. However, he wasn’t always completely unwilling to maintain a cordial relationship with them.

When his daughter, Robin, reached the age of twelve, he assigned her the role of ‘peacekeeper’. She was to befriend politicians and people of note, engage in the culture there. and report any intel she could’ve gained back to Gopher, who would then try to usurp the town and convert its residents to worshippers of Ena, ergo himself, by commandment fourteen.

By her 13th birthday, Robin’s reports suspiciously all turned into ‘They didn’t tell me anything’. The high priest soon grew skeptical, and ordered Sunday to get an answer out of her by any means necessary.

And so, he did.

He approached her door, taking note of the unfamiliar tune she appeared to be loudly humming. Due to growing older, they now had separate rooms. This didn’t help their relationship whatsoever, as their paths in life were already pulling them apart.

“Sister?” He knocked.

“Come in!” She called out, ceasing her singing. Sunday did, avoiding her gaze.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Sit down.” She gestured to the empty spot on her bed, next to herself. Sunday shook his head, which felt like a dagger being pierced trough robin’s heart.

“Oh. Okay… What did you want to talk about?”

“Master ranted to me earlier about the lack of new information regarding the neighboring town lately. I found this weird, so I just wanted to ask you about it. Please be honest with me, are you hiding something?”

Robin’s eyes widened, before drifting downward. She dipped her head in a slight nod.

“Brother… I’m sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but I feared your response. I..” she inhaled, then exhaled. “…I worship the Harmony.”

Sunday stared at her with the most disgust his face had ever held. He began to slowly shake his head.

Robin stood, paced over to him, and grabbed his hand, holding it close to her chest.

“Please, just listen to me. I discovered something that will change your view on-“ She trailed off as she met his gaze. It was evident that there was no possible way to reason with him. At that moment, it didn’t feel like she was even looking at her sibling; but rather, at the man that destroyed him.

Defeated, she let go of his hand, and sat back on her mattress. As she watched her beloved brother leave her room, she accepted that her days were now numbered.

8. To blaspheme God is to deny one's own existence.

Robin wore a gentle smile as she was walked down the path to a completely empty plain by her brother. The girl was dressed in pitch black robes, a symbol of her betrayal and a way to make her death far more painful. And yet, she didn’t seem all that bothered.

“Sunday..” she hummed.

“You’re not supposed to speak.”

“I’ll be dead soon either way. What’s one more sin?”

“…”

“I love you. Please don’t blame yourself, I forgive you.”

Sunday didn’t reply to this, and pushed her towards her final resting place.

“Press your back to the stake, please.”

Robin obliged, placing her hands behind the wooden pole as well, without even having to be told. Sunday, under the watchful gaze of Gopher Wood, tied them together, then her torso to the stake.

A citizen then dumped the wood Gopher had hand picked the day prior as the fire fuel to Robin’s feet, before backing up. As per the high priest’s request, Sunday was to light it.

The heir felt nothingness rip and tear away at his being. As his Master placed a flaming torch in his hand, Sunday thought about all the things he wanted to do right now. He wanted to cry, but that would be ‘disgraceful’. He wanted to grab his sister and run, far away from here, and start a new life together, but they were just children, with a horde of angry, violent adults behind them. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream in despair, but the raven-like man behind him would definitely punish him severely for that. As his legs trembled, threatening to give out, Sunday wondered what the worst consequence could even be. Upon remembering the ruined state his wings were in and that he had another pair in an incredibly visible location, he took several deep breaths to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry.” He mouthed, before pressing the torch’s tip to the firewood.

9. God sees, but THEY never save.

Sunday inhaled deeply, eyes shut. The winter air numbed his lungs, allowing the cold to overwhelm his body. He felt no pain, or any physical sensation at all. He simply felt like pure consciousness.

“Brother!” The worried voice of his sister called out to him. Alarmed, he exhaled, and ended his meditative state.

“What is it?” He questioned, tone unusually flat.

Robin held her hands out to him. They contained a baby dove. It was barely even covered in pin feathers, meaning it couldn’t have been more than seven days old.

“I was walking to Mr. Gary’s farm because I promised to help feed his animals, but i found this hatchling crying by a tree… I can’t find its nest, or parents, b-but it’ll freeze to death if we don’t do something!” She sobbed. Sunday examined the tiny avian closely.

“Yes…I do suppose the best course of action would be to raise it ourselves.” He crossed his arms.

“Why do you sound so hesitant..?”

Sunday was worried about what his Master would do upon discovering the animal. He wondered if its wings would be clipped, like his own were. The boy pressed a hand to his mouth in thought, eventually settling on the conclusion that there would be no reason to commit such act, as it was only done to himself so he could prove his worth to Ena.

“Fine. Give it to me.” He demanded, and the girl obliged.

The siblings rushed back home, where Robin filled a shallow bowl with warm water. Sunday placed the chick in it, but held on, just in case. It let out chirps of increasing volume, which the boy found endearing. He soon let go, stroking under the bird’s chin instead. Robin gasped, and leaned in closer to observe this. Her brother interacting with animals was a truly beautiful sight.

“How long will it take until it’s grown? I can’t wait to teach it how to fly!” She smiled widely, blinking up at Sunday.

“Huh? Why would we do that..?” He raised an eyebrow.

“So we can release it?” Robin now looked confused.

“What? You can’t be serious. What even is the point of saving it now if you just want to send it to die later?” He pulled the bowl closer to himself, protectively.

“It won’t die! It’d just be cruel to keep it inside for the rest of its life!” She argued, straightening her posture.

“It will.”

“No, it won’t!” The girl gripped the edge of the table. Sunday pinched the bridge of his nose, and turned his back to her.

“Fine. If you insist, you’re now responsible for its well-being until the end of the next week, when you must release it into the wild.”

“Fine.” Robin huffed, and pulled the bird and its makeshift bath back towards herself.

Seven more days passed, in which the dove grew out all the needed feathers for flight. Robin was absolutely ecstatic, and dragged Sunday outside.

“Okay..How do we do this?” She asked.

“What, you made a decision that could be the difference between life and death for another living being without any research?”

“Well, when you put it like that-“

“Do you admit defeat?”

“No! I know it’ll survive! Just tell me how to help it fly.”

Sunday simply shrugged, which upset Robin. After some contemplation, she placed the dove down on the ground, and held her breath waiting.

The bird soon spread its wings, and departed from the ground. The young girl squealed happily, and watched with wide eyes. She then turned, grinning triumphantly at her brother. It was then that she noticed the tall, dark figure looming right behind him.

“Master? What brings you here?”

Gopher Wood simply smiled eerily, and Sunday grimaced, eyes fixed on the now flying dove. A chill of deep dread struck Robin’s spine, making her turn again… Just in time to see the razor sharp talons of a raven dig into the body of the smaller bird. Right as its beak was about to rip flesh off, the girl ran into the house, sobbing loudly.

Sunday and Gopher kept watching. The scene was horrible, gory and disheartening, to say the least.

After a period of silence, the boy spoke up.

“That was a trained raven.”

“What a keen eye.”

“…Why? Robin didn’t have to see that. She’s just a child.”

“I disagree. It was her choice to free the dove, wasn’t it? She has to learn that her actions have consequences, and that defying the concept of order won’t get her anywhere.”

Sunday wordlessly nodded, before walking off.

On the way to the clearing he’d claimed as solely his- which he only turned to when he was having ‘sinful’ ideas that he felt too scared to even think about in the confines of the city- he wondered if Ena would really want one of THEIR creations to suffer, just to teach another a valuable lesson. He then considered that THEY might not truly even care about anyone and anything at all. If he could see and intervene in anything happening in the world, Sunday would try to save every being. But, in the end, he was not God, and THEY were.

10. God listens, but THEY never speak.

“Father..” a weak voice on the other side of the confessional threatened to break. Sunday straightened his posture, as he instinctively always did when spoken to, even if he couldn’t be seen.

“Speak your sorrows, child of the Order.”

“I can’t take it any longer. It feels… It feels like my prayers are falling on deaf ears. My life has only been spiraling into misery… Hell, even a sign would help loads!”

Sunday closed his eyes, thinking deeply.

“I understand how you must feel. However, you should know THEY don’t often give ‘signs’. You may share your troubles with me, and I promise to try my hardest to help you.”

“You’d really do that?”

“I would.” He nodded. He’d trained himself to be aware of his body language and what every single difference in stance could be interpreted as. So, he applied that even when alone, hidden, or in an otherwise casual situation.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you… May I ask a question first?”

“Hm?”

“Do THEY give you signs? Speak to you? Anything at all?”

The halovian fell silent. He didn’t know. Ever since he’d taken over Gopher Wood’s duties, he felt like a failure for being ‘spiritually disconnected’ from the Lord.

“The answer is what you think.” Was what he settled on.

The person on the other side sighed. The next time they spoke, their voice sounded muffled.

“I’m a murderer. I don’t deserve to live. Do you think THEY would forgive me if I..”

“Don’t say that. You are stronger than you think. Why do you consider yourself a murderer?”

“I had an argument with my little sister. It was over something so stupid, I don’t even remember what it was. I was so angry that I pushed her. She hit her head on the kitchen counter, and… oh god. There was so much blood. I saw her brains, Father. I will never forget the sight. I see it every time I sleep, every time I close my eyes, every time I see things that remind me of her. Please, how do I make it stop?” They sobbed.

Sunday was silent, eyes unfocusing as the vivid memory of Robin’s body being charred alive by flames tore its way out of the corner of his brain he’d banished it to.

“Father?”

“…Apologies. That is a lot to process, I was thinking of the optimal way to help. How long ago did this accident happen?”

“I don’t know. It could be anywhere from a few days to several months. After I buried her, everything’s been a blur. She was everything I had left… i hate to think that if I treated her nicer, showed her how much I appreciate her; if I tried to understand her better and didn’t let my emotions get the better of me, she’d still be here.”

“Yes.. You said you buried her body?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“…”

“I see. You don’t have to tell me. I can feel that you are genuinely remorseful. Fear not, the Lord will forgive you, and I’m sure your sister would too. As for the mental scarring, I can only hope that your confession has lifted some weight off your shoulders. You are not alone. If you ever feel as if you need to take drastic measures, I hereby permit you to seek me in my free time. Your life matters, and I’d rather a slight inconvenience to myself than lose another life. It gets easier, I promise. Hardship is the key to happiness.” Although he was saying all this, he barely even believed or understood himself. He’d never had anyone comfort him when he was in a similar situation, nevermind attempt to help him. When he tried to turn to Ena for solace, he was only met with silence… Which was to be expected. However, the toll it took on him was greater than he could’ve ever expected. In any case, he hoped he’d helped the member of his community, even slightly.

The sound of the fabric belonging to the other person’s clothes could be heard- presumably them standing up. It was then followed by footsteps. Sunday groaned loudly once he figured they’d have long exited the church, and placed his face in his hands. This was going to be a long day.

Upon returning home way past midnight, Sunday looked uncharacteristically horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his wings drooped pathetically as he slouched, including his ‘deformed’ second pair, which usually stayed tucked into his coat.

“Sunday!” [Name] ran to the door as soon as it opened. As they bore witness to the state of the halovian, they fell into baffled silence. He blinked blearily, far too tired to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. Go to sleep.” He mumbled, trying to push past them and towards the couch, as the two had traded sleeping utilities after their late-night walk.

“No! Are you okay?”

“Excuse me?”

“You look horrendous. I’m worried.”

“Thanks.” He deadpanned.

“I obviously didn’t mean it that way. It’s just not like you to be so… improper. Woah, wait, you have four wings!?”

“I don’t want to talk about either of those things. Please move, I’d really like to sleep.”

[Name] frowned, and instead of letting Sunday go to sleep on the near back-breaking couch when he was clearly in no condition to, they intertwined their hand with his, pulling him towards the bedroom. Before Sunday had the chance to protest, they’d reached their destination.

“What are you doing?”

“What, you said you wanted to sleep.”

“Are you implying you want to… share a bed?”

“Yeah! That’s not sinful, right?”

“I suppose not.” Sunday gave up.

“Great. I’ll let you change, call me back in when you’re done.”

Sunday didn’t know what had happened to him by the beginning of the next hour. He found himself cuddling his housemate, face buried in their chest as their fingers carded through his hair. If he wasn’t so far gone, he would’ve felt shame to the depths of his bones.

As [Name]’s breathing and heart rate slowed steadily, so did their hand. Sunday smiled, slowly shifting their position until they’d fully swapped roles. While he appreciated being on the receiving end of affection for once, it was just his nature to want to return any kind act done for him.

He draped a wing around their body, figuring he’d finally found a use for the unsightly body part.

11. God knows, but THEY never teach.

Sunday’s hands balled into fists at his sides. He’d been staring at the glass casing containing the stone slate which the commandments had been first carved into for what must’ve been many hours now. He read them over, and over, and over, and over… Despite the fact that his mind was already similar to the slate, in the sense that the words had been permanently etched into both. Every day, he could feel himself growing more and more…Hateful. And so, he decided connecting with the Lord again would be the best course of action.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. As he obsessively examined and carefully thought over every word of the sacred obligations, he could only form more and more questions… More anger. More doubt. The contradictions between several entries now seemed painfully obvious. For example, it was specified that the high priest was the exception to commandment two, but no such thing exists for the numbers nine, ten and eleven… But, communication between God and the high priest was supposed to be the basis of the religion.

As the gears in Sunday’s brain turned, he began to laugh. How could he have been so foolish? These were all just lies. Lies made up by a selfish man who desired nothing more than to rule the whole world by himself. As his laughter grew, so did his fury.

Sunday dug his fingers into the side of the glass; fragile, as all things in this forsaken town. If everyone was under the permanent illusion of safety, why was there any need for precaution? It was so bad, that nobody locked their doors anymore. No one would want to break into your house and kill you, after all. The most likely murderer was the person you trusted enough to live with. As these realizations plagued his mind, Sunday’s hands only gripped the long since shattered shards of glass tighter, and tighter. It hurt so pleasantly right now. Although, soon enough, he dropped them in favor of grasping the stone tablet itself. As he turned around, his eyes darted through the church. He needed something to break it with.

After looking for a considerable amount of time, Sunday decided he’d just fling it at the wall.

As the glorified boulder was about to leave his hand, he hesitated. What if he was wrong? This definitely had to be a misunderstanding. Maybe he just wasn’t open minded enough to understand the deeper meaning of the commandments. After all, every older resident seemed so happy living the way they were. The younger generation- including himself- would grow into doing the same, surely… God is good, Sunday thought.

God is loving.

The priest lowered his hand slowly. He rotated back to his original position, regret filling him at the sight of the broken display and bloodied glass scattered across the floor. If he were to look into his hand, he’d notice the crimson seeping from his open wound was quickly transferring to the commandments.

Sunday closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He just had to clean this up, find a replacement case, and no one would ever know. His sin could stay between him and the Lord, forever.

As for understanding all the contradictions, he was now sure that he just had to try a little harder. After all, God doesn’t teach. For a start, this probably meant THEY wanted THEIR subjects to learn from their and others’ mistakes throughout their life.

Yes, this had to be the solution. This was nothing but another trial for Sunday to overcome; a test of faith.

12. The entire Word of God is passed down through THEIR oracle, the high priest.

In an extremely rare occurrence, Sunday had found himself with a few hours of free time on his hands. He decided to spend one of them browsing the local grocery store, deciding on what snack to purchase for [Name], as a token of appreciation. He hadn’t asked them about their tastes outright, so he was attempting to piece them together from the few, yet valuable conversations they’d had. This was proving to be a more challenging task than expected, but he wasn’t about to give up.

“I believe this is what you’re looking for.” A voice coming from Sunday’s right spoke sweetly. He turned his head, confused. Before him stood a person, with an appearance so strikingly out of place that he managed how they even managed to make it into the city. They had white hair, parted into short twin tails on either side of their head. They also had long curtain bangs, however, the upper part of their hairstyle didn’t even utilize as much as half of their locks. The expanse of white fell down to the floor, dragging along it whenever they moved. They wore simple, yet eye grabbing make up, which nicely complemented their tanned skin. Their eyes appeared to naturally stay shut for the entirety of Sunday’s examination of them, not displaying any of the twitching that the eyes of a normal person forcing them to stay closed would. What was really out of place, though, was their clothing. They wore a tight, black dress which was about as long as their hair. It was rather revealing, especially in the chest and leg area. Whilst the town Sunday lived in didn’t exactly enforce ‘purity culture’ anymore, it was still unusual to dress immodestly. Additionally, the sort of corset piece wrapped around their midriff and neck appeared to be real gold, solidifying their status as an outsider. The followers of Order weren’t exactly wealthy, as money had not been used since the founding of the religion, and Gopher Wood considered the concept to be inherently unfair. Of course, this didn’t stop him from continuing to hoard any currency he came across, to be able to afford imported garments and accessories of the finest quality for only himself and his children.

“Pardon?” He narrowed his eyes, inspecting the item. It was one of the choices he’d been considering for [Name]’s snack, although he was still second-guessing himself.

“This is their favorite.” The foreigner extended their hand further, as if urging him to take it.

“What are you talking about?” Sunday was becoming uncomfortable.

“[Name]? Your.. Friend. This is their favorite. You are looking for something to get them, no?”

“Hah..I see. You’re one of Xipe’s slaves.” He chuckled bitterly, and grabbed a duplicate of the item they were holding off the shelf.

“I’d strongly urge you to return to your home, if you know what’s best for you. Good day.” He turned to leave, but a hand as cold as death itself gripped his wrist with a hold that would be sure to cut off his circulation if it was kept too long.

“Is this all the thanks I get? You would’ve spent another hour deciding if it weren’t for me.” The person pouted in mock offense.

“Stop. Get out of my mind, please.” He tried to pull away, to no avail.

“And what if I don’t? Are you going to call upon Ena to save you? Oh wait..” They laughed.

“Tsk…Do not use THEIR sacred name with such mocking purpose.”

“I really don’t get what you see in THEM. I mean, THEY’RE such a deadbeat! The Great One would never let THEIR subjects suffer.”

“Says the one whose idol abandoned THEIR town without leaving as much as a divine messenger.”

“Hm? But I am the High Priest.”

“High Priest? My a-.. ahem… That does not sound very likely. Clearly, you’re blessed in some form, but knowing Penacony, they would hold a week-long festival in your honor if you gave substantial proof of this. Who are you, really?”

The person smiled, and let go of his now bruised wrist. They’d still not opened their eyes once.

“Oh, would you look at the time. Well, I should get going. Until we meet again~” they waved, and walked away, humming an awfully familiar tune.

Sunday would then stand in the middle of the aisle, snack in hand as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He wondered if the person was trying to convince him to turn to the Harmony, or just teasing him. What’s worse is that if it was the former, he believed he might’ve actually considered.

The halovian soon dragged himself home, deep in thought. As he opened the door to see [Name] sitting on the couch as they had been doing more often lately, Sunday smiled. He sat next to them, far closer than usual.

“…I got you something.” He handed them the snack. [Name] gasped quietly.

“Ohh.. Did you know this was my favorite? Thank you so much!” They hugged him.

“Really? Must’ve been a lucky guess. In any case, consider this payment for the strawberries.” Sunday shut his eyes. Perhaps the worshipper of Xipe wasn’t all that horrible.

13. God’s aims are the aims of the world

Lately, Sunday had been frequenting the church in the dead of night. Since the meeting with the strange worshipper of Harmony, he’d been questioning his faith more than ever before. A part of him struggled with the same urge to run that he’d felt in Robin’s final moments. However, instead of his fear of angry, violent adults holding him back now, it was the fear of repercussions for becoming one.

He considered himself weak minded. He knew very well what he was getting into before accepting the position of high priest. He knew he’d have to murder and hurt, and yet… He never truly could. A secret Sunday swore he’d take to the grave, was that he never truly punished traitors as God commanded. Even after the incident with the tradesman, the worst he could muster was kicking him into unconsciousness and dropping him off into Penacony’s territory. That very night, he prayed to the God he himself had just betrayed, that the man was taken to a hospital. In his heart, Sunday still believed that if he were to implore the Lord to forgive those who turned away from them, THEY would.

Sunday had what one might call a heart of gold. He wanted the best for everyone, even if it directly contradicted the teachings of his Master, and the undeniable holy rules given to the world by God. However, his constant desire to help came at the cost of his own sanity- fact which he was acutely aware of. He considered it a small price to pay for the joy of others.

In his mind, he was responsible for the actions of each and every one of The Order’s followers. If they sinned, it was purely his fault for not managing to stop them. He’d be the one spending eternity in the burning embers, while any who sinned under him and died before he did, would be forgiven and led to the peaceful afterlife they strived for all their lives. If he’d explain this to any sane person, they’d most likely immediately pick up on how specific, flawed, and barely comprehensible his logic was… Unfortunately, he never would.

“You look tired.” The sickly sweet voice of the strange worshipper called from behind Sunday, making him halt.

“I know for a fact that I locked the gates.” He crossed his arms, but didn’t give the person the pleasure of looking at them.

“What can I say, I have my ways… Anyway, I don’t think burying yourself in your delusions is very healthy. You should rest.”

“I must say, you’re very bold. You simply can’t hold yourself back from insulting the Lord in front of THEIR messenger, hm?”

“I am simply stating a fact. You’re starting to doubt THEIR very existence, and you know that. If you acknowledge your situation, why do you still choose to indulge?”

Sunday did not speak for a long period of time.

“If you truly were a High Priest, you’d understand. God is all I have. I’ve invested so much time into becoming what I am now, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself otherwise.”

“And you still don’t follow the very principle that supposedly founded your religion. Clearly, deep down, what you want is to help everyone. You’d be well suited for the Harmony…”

“No. The harmony dictates that everyone must live through trial and error. That’s such unnecessary suffering, that can simply be avoided by protecting everyone.”

“Learning through mistakes? Isn’t that what you ultimately decided Ena’s ideal was, when you noticed people making mistakes over and over again, even when the whole point of this religion is to establish ultimate control and peace to the point where people will actively seek out pain to break the monotony?”

“…Then, I was mistaken. I never saw the similarities to the Harmony before. I pray THEY can forgive me as I try to truly understand THEIR commandments once more. Thank you for telling me this. I shall… Become a better fit for my role, through any means necessary.”

“Really? Or will you do as you’ve always done, and continue to refuse to harm anyone as your God dictates?”

“…Even if I were to do that, which I will earnestly try not to, the spiritual consequences would fall onto me, solely. I’m the one not doing my job, I-“

“Sunday! When was the last time you’ve uttered or thought something that makes any sense, at all!? Look deeply within yourself, you’ll realize how absurd you’re being.”

The halovian simply smiled. Perhaps, long ago, that would’ve been true. However, that was no longer a possibility. Any time he’d come to the same realization, his being would instinctively suffocate itself with a half-hearted explanation that would seem plausible enough at first glance, until he’d begin to deconstruct it, at which point the process would repeat.

The stranger’s expression shifted into a sorrowful one. They’d really tried to help him, but he was truly too far gone.

“I see. I hope your soul will someday be able to find peace.” They left, giving Sunday the opportunity to continue destroying himself in peace.

14. God and the high priest shall be regarded as one and the same.

Gopher Wood’s amber eyes intently observed Mikhail. His head was informally resting on the table, wings fluttering in anticipation as he waited for his ally to finish reading the documents he’d presented him with.

“So? What do you think?” He finally spoke, having grown impatient.

“I’m not done yet..”

“Well, you’ve read most of it. What do you think so far, then?”

“I didn’t know you had such little patience, Mr. Wood.”

“Yes, yes..Well, now you know.”

“I don’t consider it appropriate to share my opinion on something that I don’t fully understand. I ask that you continue waiting.”

“Fine.” Gopher scoffed, and stood up.

“I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”

“No, thank you.”

Mikhail sighed as he continued reading. Him and Gopher had met just over three amber eras ago, under inexplicable circumstances. At the time, it seemed they had similar ideals for the future of Penacony- a beautiful town, ravaged by an unfortunate dispute. The two quickly struck up a friendship, or at the very least, a cordial working relationship. At first, they agreed that their end goal was to join The Family, a union of towns and cities who worshipped a god known as Xipe and believed in the concept of Harmony. The men slowly gained the respect of most Penaconians that, too,wished for peace, who allowed them to become something akin to a two-person government.

After all that, they successfully completed their goal. Although, soon after, Gopher began acting unusually. He distanced himself from Mikhail, only talking to him to ask odd questions, such as ‘if he ever wished the entire town’s residents could be puppets’. The blue-haired man grew incredibly concerned for his partner’s wellbeing, but could never reach Gopher to speak to him about this topic.

A few days prior, he had invited him out to drinks to discuss ‘an exciting new discovery’. They now found themselves here, Gopher having handed Mikhail a folder full of papers, detailing the proof of the existence of another deity before Xipe. THEY were known by the name of Ena, and represented Order, which was awfully close to the concept of Harmony, besides the awfully concerning attitude towards those who desired to follow their own path in life.

Just as Mikhail finished reading, the halovian returned.

“Are you done yet?”

“Yes…?”

“Wonderful! So?”

“I’m… Not quite sure I understand. Do you want to leave The Family and pursue this religion? Do you even have any current proof this, ‘Ena’ even exists..?”

“Oh, THEY don’t!” He giggled, joyfully taking a sip of his wine. Just as Mikhail was preparing to open his mouth, he continued:

“Not anymore, at least. But if we can make people believe THEY do, we’ll have them wrapped around our fingers. They’ll just do anything we want under the guise of religion. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? There can truly be peace upon Penacony.”

“…How drunk are you?”

“Plenty.”

“You’re not thinking straight. That would never work, it’d just be defying human nature. Besides, if the ones who continue trying to end our lives for opposing them can’t even agree with Harmony, what makes you think they’d want to obey the words of an imaginary God?”

“Oh, them? They have no place in Penacony either way. If I were to execute my plan, I’d be doing a great favor to everyone.” He grinned.

“That’s enough. Get up. I’m taking you home, and you’re going to sleep off all that wine.” Mikhail stood, tossing the documents into the nearest trash.

“I know what I’m doing, my dear Misha. I’ve been fantasizing about this since before we even met… It’s my greatest wish, and what’s the best for Penacony- no, the world, even! Why must you be so cruel~?”

“…You’re not who I thought you were. Why.. Why would you even say that?”

“Mm.. Tell me one thing, then.” He rounded the table, until he was face to face with Mikhail. He then grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him even closer, grinning. “How long do you think a society under the Order’s rule will last? Hell, even with the most haphazard basis I can throw together in one night?”

“Don’t-“

“Answer me.”

“…A decade, at most.”

“Very well.” Gopher hummed, and let go.

“I say… Triple that, before it spreads to Penacony. At least a century after that until the downfall.”

“What are you planning to do..?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re,, a psychopath. This will never work! Even if it somehow lasted for your entire lifetime, you’d never find a successor gullible enough to extend your little cult’s existence for that long.”

Gopher’s smile widened sinisterly.

“Cult? I prefer the word social experiment. Anyway, I should get going now. I heard the next town over has little contact with outsiders, and I’d like to get there before that changes.” He turned, and began to walk.

“Until we meet again, Misha.”

15. God is absolute.

After his second encounter with what seemed to be Xipe’s chosen one, Sunday felt completely drained. He hadn’t fully felt like a living, breathing entity since he was maybe six years old, but the mental haze that affected him worsened with each significant event that happened to him. He stumbled home at the same time that the sun began to peek over the horizon.

Despite the fact that he returned to sleeping on the couch after the night him and [Name] cuddled, he didn’t feel like sleeping alone at this moment.

Following several minutes of hesitation, Sunday opened the bedroom door, cautiously stepping in. Of course, his friend was sleeping peacefully, and luckily for him, deeply. The man stalked over to the closet door, which had been divided into halves to accommodate both his and [Name]’s clothes. He quickly discarded his current outfit, changing into a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. The shirt rode up his stomach slightly, as he hadn’t ever found the time to poke wing holes into his casual garments; therefore, his wings were just hanging naturally.

He slowly sat down on the unoccupied side of the bed, pausing to see if the sleeping person would wake. When they didn’t, he made himself more comfortable, even pulling half of the blanket over himself.

That action caused [Name] to turn. Sunday was preparing an apology speech for waking them, but they were unbothered. They grabbed his arm, snuggling it. The halovian took a moment to process, upper wings tensing in surprise. He was still not used to being touched, but he’d feel too bad pushing them away. So, instead of getting any rest, he just awkwardly stared at them for hours, frozen in place.

Finally, [Name] yawned, attempting to stretch. They were stopped by the sensation of a warm, solid object being held between their arms. When their eyes shot open, they barely stopped themselves from screaming at the sight of Sunday, who looked at them with a tired frown.

“Sorry,, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just feeling unwell, and I thought…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“It’s alright. I’m just, a little surprised. You don’t really seem like the type of guy who’d enjoy this kind of stuff.”

“‘Stuff’…?”

“Yeah. You know, like, closeness.”

“Really? Hm.” He turned his head away, deep in thought.

“I guess you’re right.“ He nearly whispered, pulling his arm away.

The silence that followed was painfully awkward. So much so, that [Name] decided to speak the first thought that came to mind:

“Can I touch your wings?”

“Sorry?”

“I want to touch your wings. They look super fluffy.”

Sunday narrowed his eyes, wondering where they obtained such courage. A halovian’s wings were just about sacred, and most only allowed those closest to them to do as much as stare at them for extensive amount of time. And still…

“You may. But, please be careful. They’re very sensitive, and tear easily.”

“Wait, really? I wasn’t really expecting you to let me..” [Name] was dumbfounded.

“I suppose so. The idea doesn’t make me uncomfortable, as I… Truly appreciate you. It feels like you’re the only person that has seen me as human in an embarrassingly long time. This is the least I can do to express my gratitude.” He leaned in closer, extending the wings on the side closest to [Name]. They didn’t speak, only reaching out to pet the wing sticking out from under his shirt. Sunday was surprised, as he figured they’d first pick the carefully preened, pristine, and intact wing on his head.

“It’s so soft..” they gasped, brushing a finger along the trimmed edge of the appendage. They then moved on to his upper wing, scratching behind it like one would with a cat.

Sunday metaphorically melted, gently collapsing onto [Name]. His eyes closed contently as his roommate continued their exploration of his features.

Unfortunately, their happiness didn’t last long. The distinct sound of wood being axed through snapped both people out of their relaxed state. Sunday jumped out of bed, and out the bedroom door. The sound was coming from the front entrance- which was stupid, as it was unlocked, much like any other door in the town. He crossed his arms, glaring at the widening hole in his door.

Upon completely decimating the wooden structure, a furious mob of followers of the Order barged in, carrying pitchforks and unlit torches. Sunday blinked in disbelief, if only for a couple seconds.

“You liar… Murderous whoreson of a cunt! How could you… How? Do you even realize how many people have lost or wasted their lives on your fuckass cult!? You will pay for this!” A man near the front screamed, spit flying onto Sunday as he did so. He wiped it off his face, giving his subjects a tired smile.

“My children, please. This must all be one great misunderstanding. I urge you to lay your weapons down, and explain to me what crime exactly you think it is that I committed.” He clasped his hands together, eyes closing inoffensively. Once again, his communication attempt was met with a slap.

“Misunderstanding? Hah. Tell that to The Devil! Tie him!” The man ordered, in response to which, the follower of Harmony stepped forward, rope in hand. As they stood parallel to Sunday, they opened their eyes for the first time. The blue outer ring transforming into a deep purple one didn’t look the least bit human, and neither did the grey sclera. If anything, such colors more closely resembled the written description of Ena, if only reversed.

It was then that it clicked.

Sunday began to twitch, in what seemed like the unfortunate moment where the psyche of a tortured man finally shattered. Hell, maybe that was accurate. He soon began to laugh, louder than he ever had before.

As he found himself preoccupied with that, Xipe gave him one last pitiful glance.

“I’m sorry.” THEY mouthed, beginning to bind his arms and wings.

[Name] gripped the edge of the bedroom doorframe. They had been observing for the entirety of the conflict, frozen. Perhaps, if the sea of people didn’t extend well past the confines of the house, they would’ve tried to help Sunday.

“See? He’s gone far past mad- Wait, should we do something about [Name]?” A villager questioned another, causing Sunday to cease his laughter.

“Absolutely. Burn the entire house down, everything he’s touched is tainted.”

“Are you insane? They’re pretty new. What do you think are the chances that they knew?” A third chimed in.

“[Name] didn’t know. It… It was all on me. I’m the one who lied to you. I deceived each and every one of you in pursuit of control. I corrupted the pure intentions of Gopher Wood, and, I ended his life via poison. I am the only culprit.” Sunday tensed, frantically looking around to see how many people believed his faux confession. Of course, only the first sentence was even remotely true. However, if he were to die today, there was no reason to drag the dead and the innocent along with him.

The villagers fell silent, looking between each other in a silent discussion.

“I believe him.” Xipe said, tugging on Sunday’s binds as THEY lead him towards the door, clearing a path through the mob.

The crowd followed, much like a herd of sheep would. This left [Name] alone, and confused.

When the silence became deafening, they hurried to follow. They figured that even if they couldn’t physically be that close to him during whatever was going to happen, then being there at all might make Sunday feel less alone. Even if what he’d confessed was true; which they didn’t fully believe, he did save their life. This was the least they could do for him.

Tears rolled down Sunday’s face, shining golden from the bright sunlight seeping into them. He was awarded the courtesy of choosing when he’d be ended, and he picked sundown. He’d been nailed to a cross, through his hands, wings, and shoulders. The fallen priest was in utter agony, and yet, he was quite alright with this.

Xipe took the same role Sunday had all those years ago; the killer. The villagers were seething, and craved nothing but blood. So, they all collectively decided Sunday was going to be nailed, burnt, and finally shot in the neck. Xipe offered THEMSELVES as executioner. No mortal deserved to have to live with the fact they were the direct cause of another human being’s untimely demise…

As THEIR lit torch approached the kindling, Xipe gazed into Sunday’s eyes once more. They smiled. It was barely visible, yet earnest.

Sunday returned the gesture, inhaling the last breath of fresh air he’d ever take.

[Name] kneeled in front of the charred, bloodied, and decaying corpse of Sunday. They didn’t even think he saw them in his final moments, ergo, they exposed themselves to his disgustingly brutal end for nothing.

They dipped their head, placing the bouquet of wild flowers they’d picked from the clearing which Sunday introduced them to, at his feet.

“Do you want to bury him?”

“…What?” [Name] turned, recognizing the voice as Sunday’s executioner.

“You cared about him. I doubt you want him to publicly rot for..What, a decade?”

“Yeah.”

“Stand. And take the flowers. I’ll carry him.”

And so, they did. In the same clearing the flowers had been picked from, [Name] and Xipe had buried Sunday. They didn’t mark his grave, deciding to finally let him rest.

“So? What will happen now? To everyone in the town, I mean. I don’t know about anyone else, but I have nowhere to go, and a town without a leader is a town without laws. But they’re all so violent…”

“Hm..Penacony has a place for all. Even with their violent tendencies, they can learn and grow.”

“So, why couldn’t Sunday?”

“Despite not knowing what he even believed in, Sunday thought he was nothing without Order. No matter what anyone could ever try, he’d refuse to change. It’s unfortunate, but, he should be allowed to make his own choices.”

“…But that’s so unfair.”

“Being forced into obedience would be equally unfair, no? Sunday died on his own terms.”

“I guess. It’s just, sad.”

[Name] received no reply. They felt as if the other presence had suddenly vanished, but didn’t bother to confirm this.

They laid down next to Sunday’s resting place, closing their eyes. They still struggled to comprehend how their life had taken such a horrible turn so quickly.

It didn’t matter now. [Name] yawned, rolling over onto the side they were most comfortable on. Upon waking, they’d set off to Penacony, where they would find a job and make a living for themselves. But tonight, they just wanted a semblance of a proper farewell to the cozy lifestyle they had grown so accustomed to, and to the man that made it all possible.

#sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #sunday honkai star rail x reader #sunday hsr #sunday hsr x reader #honkai star rail fanfic #sunday fanfic #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

85 notes · View notes