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the-silver-chronicles · 17 days ago

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2025 Year Of The OTP March Prompts: "If Things Had Gone Differently..." [Boa Lurking In The Bliss]

Tagging @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @josephseedismyfather @noodlecupcakes @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @belladelamorte @cassietrn @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @voidika @cloudofbutterflies92 @derelictheretic @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who'd like to join.

Managed to finish this March Prompts after being inspired by a post that recently came up on my feed and pissed me off so much.

Anyway, March Prompts based on this Year Of The OTP fandom event. Tackling the following prompts: Fresh Starts, "What are you doing with that?" & Florist/Tattoo Artist.

Sharing the March Oneshot here, but alternatively can be found on my AO3 here.

Minor mentioned character death for this one (forgive me, Joey). But, uh, mostly fluff and canon divergence for this. Admittedly, I'm not 100% satisfied with this one, but I'd feel more better once I begin the April prompts.

Anyway, you can read the oneshot below the cut or on my AO3 above. Enjoy!:

Title: If Things Had Gone Differently…

Series: The Silver Chronicles

Pairing: Boa Lurking In The Bliss (Silva Omar/Faith Seed)

Prompts: March – Fresh Starts, “What are you doing with that?” & Florist/Tattoo Artist.

Genre: Fluff.

Words: 4,519

It was rather bittersweet; surprisingly so, considering who she was bringing to the cruiser.

Faith didn’t fight, nor did she resist. She barely struggled. She was rather compliant, actually. As compliant as Joseph had been. Tracey would have probably said something along the lines of how this showed how eager her ex-best friend had been to adopt the Seed name, including their peculiar quirks, just to fit in. At least, if Silva were still on friendly terms with the Cougar’s leader.

Perhaps that would have been true for Rachel… the girl Faith had been before the former became Joseph’s sister, the one Tracey once knew.

Silva knew better though. No one can change their name and still be the expected to remain the same person afterwards.

She knew this as a fact. Paul had taught her this. And so had Alvarich.

Names were a powerful thing; they were fundamental to the identity of everyone. Names gave a person their life, and sometimes, their purpose. Names were key to finding you’re true self.

To have no name meant a person was lost, without purpose and without life. To have many names meant a person was untrue, to themselves and to others. Only an honest death could free them of such travesty.

She heard the stories of Jannah. Even read the old scriptures. How Jannah, before she became the Tumultite Idealist, was born with no name gifted to her; just referred to as ‘girl’, ‘slave’, ‘servant’, nouns of how others saw her, what they made her. She was less than no one, not even close to a something.

Then she spoke. She wrote. She fought. She defied. No longer what others saw her to be.

She did what no others in her community were expected to do, had been expected to do long since the tribes that predated them were cowed into submission by the marauders that conquered the isla they inhabited.

She had named herself. “Jannah”. And in doing so, she changed; and brought with her change as well.

It was not uncommon for Tumultites to change their names, though whenever one did so, it called for celebration. For they’ve embraced the traditions of their ancestors and defied the oppression of the marauders and their descendants. It signified change within themselves, something the Congregation could never understand.

Silva, too, had been amongst those who changed; adopted into the Tumultite community as sweet and timid Sylvester, but had slowly transformed into a strong, ferocious and protective leader, accepting the nickname they had so lovingly called her for all those years as her true name, after the death of Persephone.

Maybe that’s why she gravitated towards companionship with someone as enigmatic as Faith, in contrast to her brothers. Perhaps she couldn’t help but jump at the chance to befriend someone who experienced such wonderful and dreadful change like she had, even if that person was supposed to be her enemy?

Silva never once referred the other woman as “Rachel”; after all, how could she? It would have been redundant. She was Faith now, far from the descriptions of who Tracey reminisced about when she had too much to drink, and Faith told Silva herself that she “left Rachel in the dark” a long time ago.

Although the circumstances behind how she gained her new name and identity were FAR from ideal and neither was it something Silva was comfortable with… Faith seemed at peace with her choice. Happy with who she was. So she left it be. Accepted her words as truth, for once.

To Silva, she was just Faith. And that was that.

It didn’t stop Silva from kicking Joseph’s teeth in almost two weeks ago in the very same centre square of the compound she walked Faith down. A little vengeance for the “sisters” he threw away.

The woman she had her arms on still wore her signature white dress, though tattered and ripped in certain areas, attempts to sew them close clearly demonstrated the herald’s inexperience and the deputy’s expertise, with messily loose and perfectly closed stitches respectively.

Faith had refused her recommendation for a fresh change of clothes. At the very least, she managed to convince Faith from going out barefoot. It was a tough sell, but the deputy had gotten her to wear sandals instead.

Silva guided Faith to the rear doors of the cruiser, glancing to the officers waiting patiently in the front seats.

“I guess this is goodbye, then?” Faith had queried just as Silva reached for the door handle. Curiously, she glanced back at the deputy so her green eyes could focus on Silva’s expression.

Silva mulled over a response to Faith’s question. It seemed the appropriate answer would be a flat “yes” before stuffing the herald into the cruiser’s suspect transport enclosure. See her be driven off, out of sight, out of mind, just like her brothers.

That didn’t sit right with Silva though. Not when it was Faith. Call her crazy, or perhaps blissed, but unlike the Seed brothers, she liked Faith. More than she should, especially after everything she’s done.

Eventually, Silva simply replied, “For now.”

The response wasn’t concrete, but it did invite an openness that seemed to surprise Faith.

To her unfortunate delight, Faith grinned with confidence.

“You do know they won’t keep me for long, right?”

It wasn’t a response a perp should be sharing with the deputy arresting her. Then again, she doubted she was going to remain a deputy for much longer anyway.

One thing Silva knew was certain. Faith was right.

“I’m counting on it.”

And that excited her.

Faith seemed to share the same sentiment, asking, “Will you still be here?”

Silva hadn’t expected to be asked that, though. Especially not by Faith. In fact, she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to think much on the question.

After everything she’s experienced in Hope County, would she really stay?

There were good people here, certainly, and they treated her like she was one of them; something she hadn’t had for many years now.

But she lost so much here as well. Her hermana, her hija, and most recently, she’s ousted Kamski from her life. After what he did to all those people in John’s Bunker, the excuses he made, she couldn’t stand the idea of him staying anywhere close to him.

…She still needs to attend Hudson’s funeral. And more, after that. Could she continue to live in a place where more of her amigas and familia have been buried?

Can she really be expected to go about a normal life in a place that she’s spilled more blood for than spared?

“…I’m not sure I can,” she answered honestly, glancing away from Faith, as the cruiser’s door handle clicked.

Dejection crossed Faith’s expression, but it was brief as it returned to the same serene confidence that the Father wore.

Silva opened the cruiser’s door wide open, waiting for Faith to enter. The Seed sister took a step and two forward but stopped just short of entering. Those enchanting green eyes locked with Silva’s dull grey. Her cut lips parted, to speak.

“Will you wait?” she asked softly, voice brimming close to a desperate plea, “Just for a little while?”

Silva felt as if her body froze as she processed those words; Faith looked at her with the sincerest gaze she’s seen her display. The image embedded itself in her mind’s eye. Perhaps she was still under the Siren’s influence after all.

…She didn’t quite mind it.

A small smile tugged up her lips, and she replied with her voice lowered yet certain, “Of course.”

And with that, Faith entered the cruiser’s backseats, destination towards a long trial awaiting her. As soon as Silva closed the door, the cruiser didn’t waste any more time at the Compound and began transporting the herald to join her brothers.

She stood and watched it leave; even stayed long after it turned out of her sight. She let out an exhale and glanced around the white buildings preceding the white chapel where Joseph spoke poison to his family and followers, spreading the delusion of a Collapse that she knew had long since passed.

Silva walked away from the compound, and towards the nearby lake. Treading along the deck as the wind blew past her, her braid of dark hair loosening, allowing strands of dyed silver to fall behind her shoulder, she stopped at the end, overlooking the water and the blue sky.

At the very least, Silva found herself glad about one thing. Joseph was wrong about his vision.

Not a mushroom cloud in the sky.

---

The bell dinged upon being disturbed by the opening door, though that was fine with Silva. It brought a small thrill to her, in a silly sort of way.

Every time she turned around or glanced over to see who it was, she’d be faced with someone new. A new person to talk to. Someone with a story to tell.

Entering the two-story store, her newest customer was an older bald man with a scruffy beard, his complexion darker than hers, wearing a green hoody and baggy pants, browsing at the various pots of plants and flowers throughout her shop.

Silva dusted off her gloved hands of the soil she was setting in the pot she was working on, wiping the dirt on the apron she wore over her dress, a change that deviated from her usual attire as a former deputy, and proceeded to approach her customer with a kind smile.

Pleasantries were exchanged, and her customer expressed the plants he was seeking; a bouquet of peony flowers for a date with his partner of seven years. Silva noticed he seemed kind of nervous about it, and from the way he was described it, she deduced he had intentions to bend the knee and ask “THE Question” as she’s heard it commonly be referred to.

Her smile tugged up a little further as she gathered the pink-tinted peonies her customer sought; whether it was intentional or not, the flowers he wanted held a symbolization that was rather fitting for the occasion.

It wasn’t her place to pry though, only to wish him the best of luck once she gave him the bouquet of peonies, the purchase complete.

Once the bell rung with his exit, Silva let out a low exhale. She always saw new faces. She didn’t get to encounter as many that were familiar.

Especially those she knew in Hope County, Montana.

She let out a little mirthless laugh. It’s been three years since we started fresh over here in Maryland, and I’m still thinking back to a place that holds so much tragedy.

Although, to the county’s credit, not all the time she spent there had been inherently tragic. There were quite a lot of good moments too, thinking back on it.

Though admittedly there were more… complicated feelings surrounding the place as well. Especially after the Eden’s Gate debacle in 2018.

She shook her head to rid herself the reminder of those months of utter chaos. Although it had felt like longer at the time.

However, just as countless times before, once Silva was caught in the memory of her former home, she would always end up trapped back in that short and surprisingly impactful period of her life.

She’d remember the apprehension, standing before the fraudulent prophet for his arrest, back when she was a junior deputy two months in the job, following the orders of a Marshal who was way in over his head. The terror of the chopper coming down as his followers went to great costly lengths to keep their shepherd. The disgusting taste of the river water that had almost become her grave.

She’d try to shake away the recollections by tending to the bountiful batches of flowers she had in her shop. Though such memories were not easily deterred.

No, such memories brought forth others; the countless nights of exhaustion, the sting of a burning needle against her exposed flesh, days of being starved and dehydrated, the guilt, the fear, the wrath and the heartbreak. Personally the worst of it came when she broke all connection with the one person she trusted like family, whom she never expected to go behind her back to commit an act so heinous and vile, in spite of everything they’d been through together, that only she and him would carry for the rest of their days.

Silva huffed, a small frown sloping down her lips as she recalled the events that led up to her estrangement with who was possibly her oldest remaining friend from her time before settling in America. Brushing the pink-tinted petals of the camellia flower with tender gloved finger, she shook her head abruptly, stepping back as she refused to stare at the yellow anthers inside the plant.

Her brows furrowed as flashes of a dangerous smog that obscured her already restricted sight came to life before her very eyes.

Her breathing quickening through the mask’s filters as she rushed through an unfamiliar bunker’s multiple corridors, passing body after body of people either unconscious or suffocated trying to reach the same destination she was now; the room that controls the ventilation system spewing out such vile poisons on the unsuspecting inhabitants of the bunker, an action she only believed the despicable late-Mistress of Poisons herself was capable of committing.

Wondering if she’d be too late to save the families, the noncombatants and imprisoned allies that resided in John’s Bunker. Including that of her fellow deputy and friend, Joey Hudson.

Only freezing when she came across the still and slumped body of a dark-haired woman wearing the familiar green vest she previously wore throughout the Sheriff’s Department.

Silva snapped herself out of the rumination of what amounted to traumatizing moment added in a mountain of bad memories in her life. Her decision to cut off Kamski from her life was completely justified.

Even if, admittedly, she hoped he was still doing well, even after everything.

But despite all the bad, she’d get a resurgence of something else; the light moments of cheers, the successes and speeches that empowered her with a hope she was afraid would slip away back then. She remembered celebrations that spread from Holland Valley to the Whitetail Mountains and all the way down into the Henbane River each time she helped liberate a region. She smiled with warmth at the moment Kim entrusted her with holding her blanketed goddaughter, knowing that, in spite of the brutality Silva’s put her hands through, she’d hold pequeña Carmina with loving tenderness.

And she remembered the exhilarated satisfaction upon clicking those cuffs over the wrists of Joseph Seed’s beaten form, this time with no cultists to get him out.

She felt the same with most of his siblings, especially his brothers, John and Jacob. The only exception to this victory was his last sibling…

Faith Seed. The reminder of her name sent a pleasant chill down her spine; like dainty soft fingers trailing up her stiff back.

Confronting her had been a tumultuous affair; fighting her wasn’t as easy as bringing down John, nor had she been as unrestrained in her violence when gunning for Jacob after Eli’s assassination.

She faltered when it came to Faith; the woman had that effect on her. Beginning all the way back to when she opened up to the woman during a moment of weakness. The fighting and war had brought back times she would rather leave forgotten. Unfortunately, Faith had been the only person present at the time to listen.

And call it foolish, but she felt as if Faith understood her, in a way that felt eerily similar to how she felt with Irene. And just like Irene, she felt as if she managed to understand Faith.

Tracey had wanted her dead, though. Just like Virgil had. Just like Silva herself was willing to do when Dutch saved her life.

Instead, in the end, she let her live; all because she played friends with her enemy. Grew closer to her. Felt things she shouldn’t have felt, especially with all Faith had done to hurt the people of the county with the weaponisation of her Bliss.

The fight had been long and brutal for both women, but eventually Silva managed to tire the Siren out.

Slapping the cuffs on Faith hadn’t felt as triumphant to Silva as she would have liked. Despite this, she felt more relieved that she hadn’t killed Faith; even if the decision costed her friendship with Tracey and skewered her reputation with some of the Cougars who were justifiably critical of her sparing Faith, especially with the grief of Virgil’s death on everyone’s minds.

Silva thought back to her final moments with Faith Seed in Hope County, escorting the herald to the police cruiser at Joseph’s Compound, signifying the end of their short time together. Their parting words a silent promise to reunite. She sighed though, shaking her head.

She hadn’t paid much attention to the proceeding of the trial, mostly because she hadn’t had the tools at her disposal to keep track; especially after what remained of Eden’s Gate performed one last “fuck you” to the Resistance after Joseph was arrested by screwing with power grid.

She heard that a couple people, mostly press, tried seeking her out, although the more worrisome was the legal team representing the Seed brothers. Probably sent by John, she’d hazard a guess. Thankfully Gavin cashed in a favour to keep any legal teams from wrangling her into a courtroom, giving her the chance to pack up and bail as soon as her stay in Hope County was no longer necessary.

It had been a rather long wait for Faith’s return. Silva wondered if the former herald would have forgiven her for leaving, if the press had been more insistent. Silva huffed at such thoughts. Why am I doing this to myself?

In spite of everything Faith had done, despite knowing what kind of person she was; Faith had affected her in a way that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Her heart thrums at the thought of the other woman, which is something that had only ever been possible with Irene.

Silva had accepted the conclusion she spent too much time in the Bliss and had gone mad at some point. Unsurprising, considering her life.

Just as she returned to behind the counter, the bell rung once more, signalling the arrival of another customer entering her floristry.

Glancing back to get a glimpse of her newest customer, she only caught the end of a ponytail bob as her customer browsed from behind the large batch of flowers that sat on the table in the middle of the shop in pots for display.

With a raised brow, Silva went around her counter and decided to meet her customer on the other side of the display table.

She could hear light humming from the other side, something that scratched at her brain with an ignited eagerness. Silva slowed her steps as she took a breath. With the greeting recited in her head, she turned the corner of the room.

But words were lost on her tongue when she recognized who entered her shop; her only regular visitor. Here she was, with light brown hair tied in a ponytail, those alluring green eyes that inspected a tool Silva had left out.

Faith. Faith was here, came an excited thought. A bit early too, something that shouldn’t be the case. Strands of Faith’s light brown hair were dyed a lovely pink colour, and she had three small hoops pierced along her ear lobe. Her attire had long since been changed, replacing the dress Joseph passed down to her with a white button-up dress shirt, a brown jacket wrapped around her waist, in addition to grey jeans. And if any of Hope County’s residents were present in her shop now, they would have done a double-take at the fact Faith was wearing sneakers.

On her bare arms were two tattoos on each; on the left was a Bliss flower with vines spread across her appendage, the vines overlapping what used to be a tattoo of some kind of chemical component Silva hadn’t been capable of working out, and on the right was a bird; detailed and intricately designed to stand out. At first, Silva had thought it to be a dove surrounded by feathers, but when she got a closer look at it, later realized it was a phoenix emerging from flames.

However, her shock wore off and was replaced with curiosity, observing Faith who held her branch cutters with evident familiarity.

She watched as the cogs in Faith’s head seemed to turn, and swiftly felt abject horror as Faith brought her cutters to the stem of one of the flower buds of her nicer daffodils.

Without further hesitance, Silva finally spoke to deter Faith from her actions.

“What are you doing with that?” she questioned firmly.

Faith jumped at Silva’s unexpected voice, turning her head to fully face Silva.

The look on Faith’s face shifted from surprise to something more joyful and bright, a genuine grin spread across her lips.

That didn’t cease her grip on the branch cutters she held, causing the blades to pinch close together. Due to the angle Faith was carelessly holding the branch cutters in, the blades merely crushed the stem of the bud between the sharp blades instead of outright decapitating it.

The damage to her daffodils were enough to snap Silva out of her reverie of the other woman’s sudden appearance, and she rushed forward to save what she could of one of her shop’s selling products.

“Do you mind explaining what compelled you to do such a thing?” She questioned Faith as she effortlessly removed the cutters from the Seed sister’s hand, keeping it far from her damaged daffodils and Faith herself.

Faith merely pouted in response, though her focus appeared to be on what Silva was wearing.

It was easy to understand why though; Faith had only ever known Silva to wear the most practical of attire like the deputy’s uniform, a preference that was rooted in pragmatism born from survival, as such clothing left room for manoeuvrability, especially during emergencies like the Reaping. Even in Maryland, Faith rarely saw Silva dabble in more traditionally feminine clothing.

Honestly, if Faith had chosen to drop by now just to see the former deputy in her working apparel, then Silva would have to commend her, as her floristry was just about the only time she ever wore dresses.

Though from the way Faith was eyeing her, Silva could tell that the former herald was not unappreciative of such change. Likewise for Silva, as she glanced appreciatively down Faith’s tattooed arms.

But ogling could come later.

Silva raised of an expectant brow, which shook Faith out of her daze, smiling sheepishly, “Sorry, force of habit from tending to the Bliss flowers. We usually cut off the smaller buds as to ensure the seeds from the bigger ones could pass on to the next batch.”

Silva cradled the pot of her injured daffodils close to her chest, tenderly nudging the limp bud with her fingers, pointedly looking at Faith as she replied, “Your Bliss flowers were a selectively manufactured crop engineered for multiple purposes in Eden’s Gate, illicit drug potency notwithstanding. My daffodils are meant to look pretty and be sold.”

Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but snort.

“Not even a few minutes unsupervised in my shop and you’ve attempted to kill my business.”

Faith huffed and rolled her gorgeous green eyes, crossing her arms as she stated, “You’re being as dramatic as John-”

“Please don’t compare me to that brother-”

“-and I only partially damaged one flower,” Faith playfully pouted, “Besides, I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

Silva lips tugged into small smile, though, as she made her way back to the store’s counter, she did ask, “Speaking of which, why are you back home so early? No, better question; how did you manage to slip out of work this time?”

“Got a lunch break after a particularly long session inking a certain client,” Faith stated as she followed Silva to the counter, leaning forwards on the top as she added, “I probably have less than ten minutes here, roughly, before I need to head back.”

Placing the potted daffodils onto the countertop, Silva brought her gaze solely on the woman before her. Opening the draw underneath her counter, she asked while reaching inside, “And where is your lunch, might I ask?”

Faith paused, then grinned sheepishly, wringing at her wrists as she admitted, “Well, I kind of forgot about it on the rush here…”

“What luck-” Silva remarked dryly, to which Faith mirthlessly chuckled in response. Only for Silva to pull out a contained from the counter draws, finishing with, “-that you’re just in time to have a share of mine.”

Opening the lid, Silva revealed the contents that were separated in three distinct sections; one was wide enough to fit the crispy patatas bravas, with the remaining sections small yet sizeable enough to fit the sliced-up peaches and, best of all, la mantecados.

Faith’s green eyes brightened immediately upon noticing the small cakes, and without a moment hesitation, snagged herself one.

Silva removed the gloves from her hands, the scarred texture spread intricately across her palms and on the back of her hands, the burns starting from the tips of her fingers, all around and down to just a little over her wrists, an unending reminder of a childhood cut too short.

She picked herself out a peach slice, the cool sensation jolting a signal through her sensitive nerves, as she watched Faith’s face grow in delight upon munching on the mantecados. She took a bite out of her peach slice, humming in satisfaction as the fruit’s sweetness.

“I owe you one,” Faith stated after swallowing the cinnamon cake, adding, “I owe you… a lot, actually. If you want, I could get you a freebie tattooing, or even say, take you out to that place you like…”

Seeing Faith trail her words out, Silva tenderly reached her free hand grasp Faith’s unoccupied hand, grounding the other woman. The sensation of her hand over her partner’s tingled at her scarred nerves, but she found she didn’t mind it.

Grey and green mirrored each other, a soft smile tugging at Silva’s lips as she replied, “I’d like any one of those. Just as long as you’re here with me.”

Faith let out a little ‘heh’ as she glanced from Silva’s face to their interlocked hands. Letting out an exhale, she returned a smile to Silva, thumb gently grazing over her flor de loto’s scarred knuckles.

A physical reminder of a time before Silva met her, and by extension her brothers. It was something Silva wasn’t ready to tell Faith about just yet. But that was for a different day.

“Yeah,” Faith replied, fingers relaxing in Silva’s trusting grip, echoing, “Of course.”

#2025 year of the otp #fandom prompt event #far cry 5 #fic: if things had gone differently...#otp: boa lurking in the bliss #oc: silva omar #faith seed #featuring silva's interesting taste in women #to qualify you've gotta (1) have green eyes (2) have a deeply emotional connection with her & (3) be a little unhinged & morally dubious #rip joey hudson for being fridged but kamski had to get kicked out of silva's life somehow #not me pushing the “faith would definitely be able to gain enough sympathy from the court to avoid prison life” headcanon i saw once #“where are the brothers?” making a cult in prison probably #“why didn't the collapse happen?” the voice dipped out of the group chat after witnessing the power of the sapphics.#“why hasn't silva adopted azriel then?” regrettably i forgot about azriel just like a certain user forgot about fandom etiquette.#i am a reliable source of information #honestly it's up to you to make such interpretations of this au

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aro-in-danyl · 9 months ago

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Alastor as a "Gift from God" AU part 2

I'll have you know it is very difficult to write from the POV of God so you get Roo instead. I had to look up bible verses for this.

PART 1 here.

-------------------

On the day of the first extermination cleanse.

When the first sinner was slain, Roo felt the soul attempt to rise. A fruitless endeavor, for their sinful deeds in life and in death ensured her roots bound the severed pieces of the soul to her.

Foolish angels, in culling the herd and stifling even the thought of rebellion, they only made her stronger. Roo tightened her vines around the soul and attempted to drag it down, down through the 7 rings, and to her.

Attempted, because before she even got past the Pride Ring, a stronger force yanked the soul upwards. Enraged and in disbelief she tightened her hold around the other souls being slaughtered by the dozens, but each and every time they were ripped from her grasp.

At the end of the day, when the exorcists were flying up and away from the slaughter, the portal to Heaven opened and Roo latched onto the connection and demanded an explanation.

"Have you gone back on your word?" her tone was taunting but her desperation and anger festered, "These souls are mine. Their punishment is meant to be eternal!"

Roo did not expect a response, God had not spoken to her since The Beginning, and God had no foothold in hell - usually. Today, apparently, was an exception.

God spoke to her, "My creations all return unto me in The End regardless. You know I cannot bare to be separated forever."

Roo did not buy this, "What ever happened to 'Depart from me, you who are cursed' was that not written?"

"Said by a King, not I." God refuted.

"But within your holy text." Roo sniped, "You reward their sin, their rejection of you, by accepting them back with open arms?"

"If you think that is what will happen to those who reject me twice, you know me not at all." And perversely, Roo felt relieved at this admission. "The righteous will have eternal life, the sinful - upon second death - nothing."

"And keeping them from me was merely a happy coincidence?" Roo felt emboldened, God must see her as a bigger threat than she thought, "To twist the meaning of your eternal punishment to exclude me, why I'd almost call that a quality worthy of a demon."

The portal, which had only been open seconds, pulsed with the force of God's anger.

Roo laughed. "You fear me enough to risk your angels falling into my grasp once again. Do you think this latest stunt of yours will keep me weak forever?"

"My angels have learned to evade you since then."

"Careful there." Roo feigned concern, "Anymore hubris and I'll have to save you a seat in Pride. I could put you next to your favorite child, wouldn't that be nice?"

God ignored the taunt, "I know your roots grow stronger on Earth. More fall to you everyday. Faster than even my best angels can catch them."

Roo smiled at the admission. To have her work acknowledged by the being who created everything, everything that would someday be corrupted and belong wholly to her.

God continued, "It is a testament to your strength that The End may be sooner than I thought."

Roo stopped cold. Her strength came from corrupting the creations of God, but if there was nothing to corrupt...

Ah. She thought. Nothing truly is an eternal punishment.

"Unless," God hedged. "We come to an arrangement?"

Suddenly the reason for God's desire to converse with her made sense. Here she was, weakened from the loss of over a hundred damned souls, from an event that would become a yearly occurrence. Here God was, with the threat of The End poised upon their fingertips, attempting to force her compliance.

And it was working.

But God had shown their hand too early, "How utterly demonic of you! You want to compromise with me? To reason with me?" She used her roots to trip a flailing exorcist trying to remove its spear from a corpse just because, "What can you offer me?"

"I will not hasten The End before its time." God stated, as if the threat of nothing was enough now that she knew God wanted something from her that they could not get themselves.

"You do not want to destroy everything you've created; you want it even less than I do. What is it you desire?"

The last few exorcists were getting ready to return via the portal, their clothes splatted in shade of red and an abundance of gore. They had yet to develop a tolerance to the violence they were perpetuating. Roo knew, just as God did, that many of the angels after slaughtering their first few sinners, had ripped their helmet off and vomited in disgust and despair.

Roo could feel their shock, their inner turmoil, their sense of righteousness, their loyalty to heaven. With time, and more exterminations cleanses, they would learn to enjoy the bloodshed. Or they would break. Such was the way of war.

"I wish to create a gift for Lucifer," God began, "A gift that will challenge him, embolden him, and remain by his side."

Lucifer! Why did it always come back to him? Around them, the corpses of the damned littered her domain never to rise again, God's angels grappled with the weight of their heavenly duty, and her influence weakened for the first time in decades. And yet it was Lucifer that made God lower themselves to speak with her!

Roo reigned in her rage, "And what does that have to do with me?"

"I am creating something unlike anything I've ever created before." God directed her attention back to the weak angel who'd finally pulled their spear from a corpse, "Immune to angelic destruction. Stronger than a thousand sinners, with the potential to stand against my Archangels, capable of vengeance and retribution."

Roo salivated. "And you're sending it here." Roo let the last of the shattered souls in her grasp go, not even paying attention as it shot upwards and away. "You'd create such a thing and put in my hands the instrument of your demise?"

"Which is why I appear before you. You know sin more intimately than I. So I implore you to cast off a piece of yourself for this gift and I shall do the same."

"And what is this gift?" The exorcist was attempting to clean the gore from the spear and failing. "And why should I give you anymore of myself when you've already taken so much?"

"A human soul."

"You intend to create a soul destined to hell before its first sin and gift it to the being who prizes free will above all else. Do you imagine he will thank you?" Roo didn't care about Lucifer's feelings regarding this gift, she couldn't wait to see the fallout actually, but she couldn't help but point out the obvious.

"No," God said, "he will not. As for you, this soul will bring a new age upon your realm. They will be The Avenger of the worthy. And a nightmare to everyone else."

"Do not repay anyone evil for evil," Roo quoted. "Is that why you need me? You want to avoid going against your own words, so you seek to blame me instead."

She did not give God time to respond, "But you still haven't told me what I gain. What do I care for this promised 'new age' or so-called Avenger when I am still trapped?"

"And that is my bargain," God attempted to comfort one of the angels weeping over a small sinner's corpse but their touch fell short. Seems they did not have power over anything in her realm but exorcised souls, she mused.

"With a piece of us both, this soul will have a direct link to us in a way no fully mortal being has before."

Roo would've gasped if she was capable of breathing, "Speak plainly!"

"They could free you."

"What's the catch? Why would you give them this power?" She could hardly believe it. It was too good to be true.

"You have the chance to be free. But you must convince this soul to do so of their own free will, knowing fully the consequences of your freedom." Roo dismissed this, she was The Root of Sin for a reason, and this soul was destined for her realm anyway.

"You are forbidden from interfering with their life before hell. And you must find this soul yourself once they fall."

A minor setback, but the call of freedom was strong. Still, she was not so blinded by this opportunity that she wouldn't ask, "And what, do you, The Almighty God, gain from this bargain?"

"A hellborn will become your greatest adversary, they will attempt to redeem sinners and remove them from your grasp." The portal to Heaven began to close.

"And should they succeed, your chance to convince The Avenger will begin to close. And you will never know freedom."

"A time limit!" She should've known they wouldn't play fair, "How long?"

They turned her attention to the newly built Tower in the center of the Pentagram. The timer below flipped through the numbers at record speed until it hit 365. "Seven full moons after the clock strikes zero for the last time. Do we have an agreement?"

God's voice was strong as ever, but the portal was now only the size of a quarter. Roo knew manipulation and this reeked of it, how clever of God to wait until the last moment to share all the details when she had so little time to think of it.

"When in hell, you use the proper term." Roo pretended to scold them. She reached out to the fading tendrils of God and sunk her thorns in as deep into the connection as she could.

"We have a deal."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel au #alastor gift from god au #hazbin god #hazbin roo #Sorry no alastor yet #I got caught up in the backstory #because I had to figure out a reason God would even consider doing this #I also had to figure out why God allowed Sera to keep doing the exterminations #God is very manipulative and Roo is not afraid to point it out #there's another reason God gave this specific time limit #It ensures that Roo will actively encourage the Exterminations to keep happening despite how much power she loses from it #As long as the clock never reaches zero for the last time she will have eternity to convince Alastor #A bit of yandere! God slipped in with the whole 'No one can stay away from me forever. I'll kill everyone first'#God doesn't like the pain the exterminations cause but they do like yoinking souls away from Roo #Roo: :P sweet a shattered soul to feed me-#God: YEET #Roo: My Souls!! D:<#Also Roo is not a reliable narrator #God does not like having angels kill for heaven but it's the only way to keep Roo weak #for now >:)#notice how God answers Roo without actually answering her #and plays up the connection Alastor will have to Roo and how it could free her rather than trap her further #And scurts around the fact that Alastor will have the same connection to them #don't worry though cause Roo is gonna realize that last bit eventually #Neither God or Roo want The End and that is why they both agree to this #It's a risk to them both but it's better than nothing #Sure God put in a lot of caveats but Roo if given an inch will make an apple tree and God knows that

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