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greyspirehollow · 21 days ago

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Vesuvia Weekly - Tired Dancing

Fandom : The Arcana visual novel

Pairing : the courtiers x courtier reader

Warnings : none.

Summary : It seems an unexpected torpor overcomes the court that night...

This was not how you had expected your masquerade night to go.

You were standing in the corner of the ballroom with your cocktail in hand, taking occasional sips of the fruity alcohol. Your gaze wandered over the dancing guests, the various colorful masks and dresses painting the typical picture of a party in Vesuvia. Your hand mindlessly fiddled with the red beetle brooch attached to your outfit, as your mind cleared slightly and you let it be lulled by the orchestra's music. Granted, they weren’t playing your favorite picece, but... It was decent, you supposed.

You adjusted the mask over your nose and took another sip of your drink when a tap on your shoulder caught your attention: it was Quaestor Valdemar. The horse skull mask contrasted uncomfortably with their uniform - they could at least make a little effort for one night, you thought - and concealed their expression. But with the way their shoulders slumped a bit more than usual, you guessed something was different today. Even if you'd been part of the court - and under The Devil’s service - for much shorter than they had, you could tell their demeanor differed from what you usually saw. Your brows subtly pinched in a mix of both curiosity and slight worry, silently inquiring if they were alright.

"I was simply going to ask you if you wanted to dance."

You blinked a few times. What?-

"I beg your pardon?" You asked softly. It was a little unlike them... If not a lot.

"I said: I was simply going to ask you if you wanted to dance."

Your mouth opened and closed a few times. You were far from opposed, just... genuinely surprised. You put your drink aside.

"I mean... If you want to, but- Quaestor are you sure you're alright?"

You replied, taking a few steps towards them and lacing your arm with their own before walking further into the ballroom.

"I simply wanted to do something... Different."

You didn’t miss the slight weariness of their tone, your chest ever so slightly constricting in worry. You took their hand in your own and took a few steps with them along the music.

"That is strange, even for you. Forgive my confusion, I simply... I have never seen or heard you want to dance."

You said. They only hummed softly in response.

"You are right. It isn’t common for me to... dance." They cleared their throat slightly. They were almost abnormally relaxed... "I hope you do not mind."

You shrugged slightly.

"No, no I can’t say I mind I'm simply... worried."

They nodded slightly.

"That is understandable. However you mustn’t worry. I simply... Am a little tired, perhaps."

Their admission took you aback. They were never one to even let others think they were remotely incapacitated by anything, so this... Was new. They swung with you gently as you two continued to dance, but you could tell they were leaning on you slightly, as if to keep themselves upright. The proximity, trust and slight vulnerability they showed - even if unconsciously - made your corrupted heart flutter. You gave a quiet sigh and tried to push the feeling aside, tried to ignore how it gave you a certain sense of purpose, even if it was for a fleeting moment. Your grip onto them subconsciously got a little tighter, and you found yourself wanting to protect them somehow. From what and who you didn’t really know, it’s not like they ever were in any danger anywhere but... The feeling was there, poking at your heart. You eyed the other guests around you as you felt Valdemar progressively lean on you more and more, their weight and body coming in close contact with your own, as if they were-

Your eyes blinked and widened as you realized they were falling asleep. On you. While you two danced.

"Valdemar, y-"

You whispered, with a sense of urgency as you felt them slump against you, head resting on your shoulder. You adjusted your hold on them so they wouldn’t fall to the ground, and tried to find a couch where you two could sit. You walked towards the one in the far corner of the ballroom, and surprisingly enough they stayed awake for a tiny bit longer, just until you sat them down on the couch. You removed their mask so it wouldn’t bother them while they slept and you made sure they had a pillow or two so they could get comfortable.

You looked around the room, slightly anxious. As adorable - no, as... no. You couldn’t think like that about them - as normal as it was to fall asleep, this was still highly unusual behavior for Quaestor Valdemar. The loud acclamations of Vulgora reached your ears from the adjacent room: the dining room. You were reluctant to leave Valdemar alone, very reluctant. So you simply searched for a stray red beetle around the corners, and you did, you took it in your hand and repeatedly tapped its back - gently but enough for it to be bothersome - hoping it’d annoy Vulgora enough so they'd directly come to you. That seemed to be effective enough: it wasn’t long before you heard the angry thumping of their footsteps towards the ballroom and the slurred curses they shouted. You sighed as you realized they were very much drunk. That realization confirmed itself when they reached you, a bottle of mead in their hand, and their cheeks and nose even redder - if possible - than usual. You felt a pang of irritation at their state, and crossed your arms (after letting the beetle free and watching it crawl into the Pontifex’s sleeve) when they pointed an accusatory finger at you.

"Whaz THAT supposed t’be about??"

They asked, upset to having been interrupted in whatever they were doing. You sighed and held back the urge to roll your eyes.

"I am a little bit worried, is all..."

You said, turning to look at Valdemar, who was still sleeping on the couch. Vulgora followed your gaze after taking a gulp out of their bottle

"Aaah, is fine. Is juss... Time for their yearly nap time." They said.

You blinked, confused, and looked back at them.

"Their what?"

"Yearly nap time" They said again. "Theyyy uuuh... ya know, they say they don’ sleeeep, but... das what they SAY. Of course they sleep. Just... Rarely. Onze a year, maybe, and das it." They explained, their words punctuated by a hiccup.

Your eyes widened slightly. So they slept, but only once a year? And this year it happened to be now?

You were about to say something when you let out a little gasp of surprise: cold arms had snuck their way around your waist from behind, and someone's head rested against your shoulder blade as they slumped against your back.

"Valdemar, what are you-!"

You quietly exclaimed, your cheeks flushing a subtle red hue. Pontifex Vulgora snickered and chuckled as they watched you struggle to turn around and confront the doctor, your horns softly clashing with their own as you turned your head. Vulgora gulped down a bit more of their bottle of mead, letting out an almost obnoxiously loud burp as you struggled to wriggle out from Valdemar’s grasp. It was obvious they weren’t exactly thinking about what they were doing, so eventually you just gave up attempting to escape. Instead you turned your attention back to Vulgora, who had a drunken frown on their face.

"Lucky them..." they said sarcastically. You had a feeling the sarcasm wasn’t all that truthful, though. As if they were a tiny bit jealous... You shook your head. Maybe you were reading into it too much. But then again, the alcohol sometimes made people more honest than they would like...

You were about to guide Valdemar back to the couch when Vulgora suddenly spoke up again: "Szay, why can’t I dance with you?" They asked, their words slightly slurred. You were left confused yet again - what was it with the courtiers wanting to dance tonight ? - "Uhm... Let me-" you mumbled, walking Valdemar back to the couch, but just as you turned around to walk back to Vulgora they caught your wrist in a vice like grip and yanked you back towards themselves, making you stumble back in the couch with a little noise of protest. You glared at them from the corner of your eye but when you saw their closed eyes and relaxed features you... Weren’t so mad anymore. You sighed as you sat up a little straighter on the couch, Valdemar lazily resting against your side, one of their arms loosely wrapped around your midsection. You could faintly hear the soft and slow sound of their sleepy breathing...

You looked back at Vulgora, who just huffed. They looked at their empty bottle of mead with a pout and threw it aside, the glass making an uncomfortable clinking noise on the floor. They really reminded you of an angry toddler at the moment... They walked towards your position on the couch, grumbling.

"What could be szo special 'bout you that they cling to you like that??" They mumbled, as they sat near the side of you which wasn’t occupied by Valdemar. They crossed their arms and looked at their feet for a moment. You had a hard time figuring out what was going through their head until they rested said head on your shoulder with a little 'pat' noise.

"Hm... I guess you're soft..." they mumbled drunkenly, scooting a little closer to your side. You had to repress the urge to sigh. Were you really going to spend the rest of the masquerade as a makeshift courtier pillow?? And as if to answer your silent question, soon it was Vulgora's turn to wrap their arms around you.

"Mmh, you're warm too, that helps..." they mumbled as their own eyes closed. You briefly closed your eyes to calm down the annoyance that threatened to rise up your chest, and instead wrapped each of your arms around each courtier’s shoulders. You took a deep breath and for a moment just let the sensation of both their respective bodies against your sides sink in. Valdemar was thin, almost too cold, and Vulgora was plush and almost burning hot. It was a strange contrast... But strangely enough, they balanced each other, unconsciously. You were briefly pulled out of your reverie by the soft snoring of Vulgora. Oh great, they'd fallen asleep as well... You removed their mask so they wouldn’t get too uncomfortable as well and looked back at the ballroom full of guests. Unsurprisingly, quite a few were staring. You gave each of them an annoyed frown, as if what was happening was a perfectly normal occurence.

Minutes passed. Strangely enough, your breath, Valdemar’s and Vulgora's had synced by now. You had to admit, it was relaxing enough... Your body temperatures followed. Valdemar warmed up a little and Vulgora seemingly cooled down - despite being still relatively hot -. Your head leaned back against the couch, your hair tickling your neck as you too decided to remove your masquerade mask. You set it aside with both the others and closed your eyes for a few seconds. You gave a start as something suddenly jumped on your lap, your eyes shooting open and your eyes darting down: there, sprawled onto you, was a brown furball with little wings on its head and thin bird feet. It still had cake crumbs all around its mouth. Your heart slowed down as you sighed again.

"Voltaaa..." you mumbled. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the courtiers came along as well. But well, as you watched Volta curl up in a little ball on your lap and start snoozing, you just didn’t have the heart to move or wake her. You gave her head a little scratch before your arm wrapped back around Valdemar’s shoulders. Despite its unprovoked nature, Volta's addition to your little improvised sleeping booth was... nice.

The sound of exaggerated sobbing then reached your ears. You refrained from sighing this time and looked towards the source of the noise. You saw Praetor Vlastomil drag his feet into the ballroom, his eyes wet with tears. You raised a curious - and concerned - eyebrow as you saw him approach and slump down on the (small) part of the couch that was unoccupied by your company. He buried his head in a pillow and let out a long whine.

"The guests... They stepped on Mathilda ...!"

He wailed. It took you a second to put two and two together; Mathilda was one of Vlastomil’s pet worms. Her and the... thousands of others, you supposed. You let out a little sympathetic 'aw' and reached to pet his back in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. As tragic as it probably was for him, the... Image of Vlastomil walking a tiny earthworm with a leash of thread through the ballroom was... humorous. Still, you tried not to chuckle. After a while you had to put your hand back where it originally was because your arm hurt from aving to stretch it to reach the Praetor’s back. You heard his muffled sniffles begin to subside, and eventually Vlastomil sat properly on the couch, ready to fall asleep himself. You took a deep breath, staying attentive for a little while longer, just in case...

... And you spotted Valerius, coming to down at the very far end of the couch. As usual, his arms were crossed, he had a glass of wine in hand and he was a little pouty. His cheeks were flushed a subtle red, as if he was somewhat embarrassed to be sitting there. You gave him a quiet and inquisitive glance, and Valerius huffed.

"I just need something to clear my head. It would be useless to ask you to dance, wouldn’t it?"

You smiled and playfully rolled your eyes.

"Join us. At this point, why not."

You replied, scooting yourself, Vulgora, Valdemar and Volta to the center of the couch while Vlastomil stayed at one end. The Consul hesitated, but eventually he sat down as well on the other end that had been freed for him.

You all sat together quietly, three courtiers already fast asleep. Vlastomil was next to follow, and surprisingly enough, Valerius let himself drift off as well. You looked at them all, adjusted your hold on Valdemar and Vulgora so it was as comfortable as possible, and then, finally, you allowed yourself to relax. A sense of protectiveness washed over you as you felt all the other courtiers fall deeply asleep on the couch. This was probably a once in a millenia occurence, and you couldn’t help but feel that the moment was important. Your brows furrowed slightly defiantly each time your gaze met one of the guests’, who were watching the couch, baffled. They averted their eyes every time you'd look at them, and it stayed this way for the rest of the night. Only when the ballroom cleared of all guests, almost as morning rose, did you allow yourself to relax and drift to sleep with the other courtiers.

Unbeknownst to you, that evening, the scene had inspired one of the guests. And now, in the palace's dining hall, was a new painting...

#the arcana #the arcana game #quaestor valdemar #the arcana courtiers #pontifex vulgora #the arcana visual novel #fanfic #praetor vlastomil #procurator volta #consul valerius #vesuvia weekly #tired dancing

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angeledeggs · 1 year ago

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Headcannons for Valdemar taking care of an mc sick with the plague???

Omg this is a GREAT request! <3

Headcannons for Valdemar taking care of an MC sick with the plague:

They pretend as though they don't care.

It's easier, after all, attempting to cure somebody with the cold veil of professionalism.

Or at least, it used to be, until Valdemar couldn't tear themselves away from your bleeding eyes. Until their ears could hear only your ragged cough, to which they would rush over to you, making sure you were still alive.

They'll definitely make sure you stay hydrated hourly if not minutely and will constantly check your temperature, desperate to keep it within safe temperature zones.

They're much softer than normal, even though they attempt to hide it with their usual snideness. But they tone it down after awhile. You are so weak, after all. So fragile.

They make sure you always as comfortable as you can be.

They don't fear anything. They don't believe in the concept of death. But the plague. The plague might be the one thing they are afraid of.

When they finally do cure you and confirm it, they slump to the floor, unable to believe.

Did they really do it? Did they really cure the plague? When they press their hand to their chest, they forget for a moment that there would be no vibration of their heartbeat. They had expected to feel their pulse racing.

But it's simply hollowness where their heartbeat should be.

❀

#the arcana fanfic #the arcana game #the arcana #the arcana apprentice #valdemar #valdemar x mc #valdemar the arcana #quaestor valdemar #reqs open #requests are welcome

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needybabytrashbeans · 1 year ago

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Quaestor Valdemar x Bismuth (OC) - The Feeling's Mutual

Commission by @silversnape ! Forgot to post and got sick so it's only just now getting posted but glad you enjoyed it fren! :) If anyone else wants to commission my rules are on my page and my DMS are definitely open to it!

Word count: 6,888

Genre: Innocent, fluffy, maybe a lil gorey or horror induced

Enjoy!

There's a graveyard located deep in the forest. Of course it was best to keep it from the palace grounds, for it was a dark little reminder of the past in Versuvia that was hidden amongst overgrown foliage. Quaestor Valdemar hadn't spoken much on it, what was there to say anyway? The land was full to the brim with the dead, headstones far out of reach. Bismuth, the apprentice to the physician, had grown a curiosity for it though it wasn't surprising for her to do so with her because of her natural sense of curiosity. Even if Valdemar hadn't said anything about it themselves the woman had been reading, there weren't many stories on the ancient land but she was able to find a few things.

To start of the land was filled with the dead as stated before, those who lost their lives to the great red plague that ruled over the lands. Bismuth had heard the tales of it from various mouths, people who had lost loved ones during those times or who were descendants of such and even more from Valdemar themselves who seemed to…enjoy talking about such a dark time. That wasn't new though of course it's not like the Quaestor grew eager to talk about anything else but the death toll that occurred back then.

Even so, they could talk about the plague all day she was sure but still…they hadn't said anything on the graveyard itself.

Valdemar suddenly snaps their fingers on front of bright eyes, Bismuth blinks at the action. She had zoned out, the graveyard has been on her mind for a while now. Probably more than it should be. Natural curiosity of a cat, hopefully it wouldn't get her killed.

"Assistant? Bismuth?…Are you even listening?" They question, voice smooth but there's some firmness and a light sigh that leaves them as they eye her, hovering close to her as if examining her gaze. The hand in her face is covered in sticky blood, they lower it to grab a rag that sits beside them, freeing their other hand from the corpse in front of them laying on the table. A man who had died of some sort of liver damage…Valdemar wipes their gloves clean before turning and looking at her once more, eyebrows furrowing a little.

"I'll say it again. Did you even hear a thing I said? How are you supposed to take notes when you can't even focus on what I'm saying?" They huff lightly but it's clear that their tone with her isn't as harsh and cold as it could be, one could say that they were rather nice to her compared to many others. Usually actions like this would set them off, make them glare and tsk in annoyance but they almost seem to have an uncharacteristic…patience with her.

"Mind informing me of whatever could be on your mind at a time like this? Weren't you the one who suggested helping me tonight?" They inquired as they set the now bloody cloth back to the side before crossing their arms over their back. Bismuth looks up at them with surprise before slowly looking down at her feet, heart pumping in her chest just having them look at her. As curious as she was for the graveyard she had to avoid their gaze for a moment for she might end up flushing. She was infatuated with the other, whether they knew or not and usually a scenario where they were focus on her was like a dream but right now it seemed like she was before scolded which put a light frown on her lips.

She looks from her shoes and uniform back to the dead man on the table, his skin is pale as his torso lays wide open for all to see. There's tools on the side, a surgical knife, tweasers, a scalpel… her gaze stays on her for a moment before she looks back up at her superior who seems to still be waiting patiently for a reply, lightly lifting a brow.

"I've…been thinking about the graveyard in the forest." She finally admits slower than she usually would and Valdemar looks at her in slight suspension as she starts that sentence off just for their eyes to widen as she finishes. It's almost as if they didn't expect that answer from her, at all, and maybe they didn't but why did they almost seem spooked by her words? It's silent for a moment, unexpectedly silent, and Bismuth can't help but feel herself grow anxious. She must've said something wrong. There's a moment where she begins to regret saying anything but it's not like the woman would hold information from them if they asked because she followed them and admired them greatly. There was no way she could lie so easily to them. However, their silence makes her feel like she shouldn't have opened her mouth at all. She can feel herself begin to shake a little, the idea of them being angry getting to her for that was just not something she could handle.

She jumps when a gloved hand seems to snake its way under her chin. She twitched at the touch but Valdemar doesn't take that as a reason to pull away as they carefully cup her chin, firm but not enough to bruise or cause pain.

"Why would something like that be on your mind? How did you even find out about that place? No.." they speak, eerily persistent before shaking their head a little as if that wasn't the way they seen themselves starting their response.

"That place is not safe. Thinking about it like you are must mean you're curious in it…I don't know what that brain of yours is thinking but you don't plan to go find it for yourself do you?" They contested. They were in her face now, still holding her chin but leaned in close. Tone hard and gaze unyielding as they looked at her and made her look at them. Their hand pressed slightly harder as her eyes widened before her lip started to quiver a little, it didn't hurt it's not like they were digging their nails in or pressed harshly on her cheeks, they're hold was firm but gentle almost like leading a small animal to look and focus on them.

Bismuth could feel her eyes watering, she couldn't help but feel troubled or that she was being trouble for them. She suddenly felt a little bad within herself, over thinking. She did come to help them because that's what she loved, being under them and around them…close enough to touch them but now they were upset with her, looking at her with such a gaze even if their hand felt surprisingly warmer than they usually were on her cheeks.

Valdemar's gaze seems to soften even just a little, they make a motion of shaking her head softly from side to side. It lightens the mood even just a little, especially when they push up her cheeks and make her pout and pucker her lips. They huff softly before letting her free a second after.

"I'm not angry with you Bismuth, just don't go out there and that is a warning." They advised while turning away from her to walk over to a counter.

"I..heard about it at the market. I was just wondering and all. When we…work on things together like the bodies of the living it's only natural for me to wonder where they go when we're done with them. You…don't let me come with you when you take them away." She spoke feebly, at the time of doing so the Quaestor had picked up a body bag. It was black, easy to be ignored or confused for a shadow if spotted in the woods. She watched them and their tall lean figure as they did so and noticed when they seemed to pause at her words, calculating them in their brilliant brain.

"You…want to come with me?" They asked as if perplexed and she nodded almost as if shy.

"Yes." She confirms politely.

They seem to think about it, brows knitting together a little as if thinking of the consequences of this action if they agreed. She has been working with them for a while now, long and diligently too… She always did what she was told with no talk back and little failure, enough so that Valdemar themselves had placed a certain level of importance on her. They eventually breathe in deep through their nose and out through their mouth, collecting themselves and their various thoughts before walking over to the lifeless body and the woman.

"Fine, I feel as though I can trust you… just don't touch anything and don't venture off. Do you understand Bismuth?" They spoke carefully as they pulled open the body bag waiting for her response even though they were positive that they already knew what she would say. As they led the body into the bag and eventually zipped it up they glanced at her from the corner of their eyes to see…a sparkle could be found in those dark eyes of hers.

With eyes like hers they could be seen as nothing but plain to some though it was easy to see… that not many people held eyes like her's. Sometimes they'd twinkle when they called her name, even more so when she had earned some praise. Inky blackness seemed like a spiraling galaxy at times, at least when Valdemar was in the picture.

They looked away after a moment, moving their hands to grasp the body bag and haul the contents over their shoulder. Honestly, for how lean they were, they were quite strong…

"Y-yes!" She answered, a look of determination now forming on that cute little face of hers as she agreed to their terms.

"Well come on. Don't get lost." They emphasized before turning away and leading the way to the dungeons exit. She eagerly followed like a puppy and they found themselves chuckling softly at it, how she had gone from that pout from earlier to such a sweet smile.

It was a bit of a walk to get there but with each step they made Bismuth could feel the energy that flowed from the forest. It was like a tingle running over her skin or an unintelligible whisper in her ears. She had grown rather anxious during their little adventure together, even going far enough to be right on Valdemar's heels though they didn't seem to mind. At least she was staying by their side like they told her to.

The full moon was out, the smell of dirt and rain laced the air. From Valdemar's perspective they walked with a sternness, they knew where they were going unlike their subordinate. Their walk hadn't contained much talking at first, mostly the crunches of leaves under their feet or the screeching of crickets took up the silence. It was only when they weren't too far when Valdemar eventually spoke, breaking the silence but not without the woman walking beside them jumping as if shocked to hear of them after all this time. Valdemar grinned, a toothy grin that was just a bit wider than usual as if they found it funny to see the woman practically shaking in her boots.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to spook you." They hummed looking down at her before looking ahead again, eyes glowing bright in the darkness. In their free hand they held a lantern to help the woman beside them, just because they could see in the conditions of the night didn't mean that she could as well.

"I just wanted to say that for someone who was so curious you're shaking like a leaf. One would one I dragged you out here if you keep scrunching your eyebrows and looking around like that." They pointed out but there was a playful edge to their tone as if trying to help the woman calm down. It seemed to work as she turned her head to them quickly, cheeks brightly flushing at their teasing. When her mouth fell open as if to say something back they lifted a brow, smug smirk on their lips.

"Please don't tease me Quaestor…" she huffs softly turning her gaze away but not without them noticing the light flush on her cheeks. They chuckled but left her be for the time being.

It's a bit chilly out tonight, nothing that would stop the Quaestor themselves but Bismuth rubbed at her arms for more warmth. Valdemar led the way, their tall figure finding a trail and walking along it. The gates of the graveyard were rusted, the doors stuck in place and wide open almost as if welcoming them but Bismuth shivered just looking at it. It wasn't as if she didn't expect it to be somewhat like this but the eerie feeling in the air felt too heavy even with someone like the Quaestor being there to guide her.

Her stomach churned as her onyx gaze trailed over the land, headstones poking out for what seemed to be far far away as if there wasn't an ending. She briefly covered her eyes, mind getting jumbled for a moment as she tried to calm her nerves but then the sound of metal clinging against metal had made her jerk. Snapping out of her thoughts. Her gaze moved to Valdemar who had sat the lantern down for a moment, a shovel now in their free hand which had been leaning against the rusted gate with one other.

"Are you okay assistant?" They asked but their tone was less playful than before as they almost seemed to look at her…in worry. She flushed at the expression, that frown pulled at their lips felt homey. Bismuth nods quickly this time, waving a hand dismissely while still holding herself with the other.

"I-im fine. Just a bit cold out here tonight considering how warm it was earlier." She replied now lightly shrugging. Valdemar hummed at the reply but eventually nodded before looking down at the lantern next to their foot.

"Look, come here. The sooner we get this done the sooner we'll be able to return to the palace. The rain must've caused a cold front. Take the lantern and follow me, you'll be the light." They instructed and obediently the woman approached and carefully plucked the lantern off the ground. They nodded and from there on continued by passing through the fence.

There was a heavy fog in the graveyard, the heads of tombs only became harder and harder to recognize as the two of them went deeper and the crickets who chirped so loudly before had suddenly fallen silent. Valdemar walked with ease and poise, they've been across these lands many times before that at first they didn't realize Bismuth had fallen a bit behind. For her, these lands almost seemed like anything could jump out and grab her at any given moment. She trembled now but not because of the cool weather this time.

"Bismuth?" Their voice rang out through the still air. She quickly turned, they were probably about ten or so paces in front of her now, standing out in the field of fog and gravestones. Their magenta eyes looked at her, a slight bit of confusion could be found in their features.

"Are you sure something isn't the matter?" They called out. Just hearing their voice calmed her, surprisingly like a guide through the dark. She came to the conclusion that she didn't like it here as much as she previously thought she would, previously her curiosity of the place had come from the lack of general knowledge on it. Granted graveyards…weren't her favorite though so it should have been expected. Originally she planned to come in the early hours of the day, where the sun could keep her peace of mind safe but the Quaestor had caught her so quickly. So then, when they allowed her to come she practically leapt at the chance to spend more time with them. She hardly thought about her decision at first but once they entered the forest it felt like her heart constricted in her chest and that something…was watching.

She shook her head though even as her heart was racing in her chest and her stomach was churning a bit.

"N-no, just thought I heard something…" she says softly, running her free hand through her long raven hair as she caught up for them and they waited up until she was standing beside them again.

"Something…like what?" They persisted lightly but she didn't mind as they turned forward again and continued walking. From this distance and with this pace of step Bismuth could notice a few things about her superior. She tended to do so often, just a few days ago she noticed they had freckles. A few could be spotted on the space of their neck that didn't get wrapped but most were over their cheeks. She'd grown to like them, quite a bit actually. Right now she was picking up on their scent, a blush coming to her cheeks as her gaze fell to her walking feet.

They smelled of something sweet and gentle like lavender and then something more earthy and homey like sandalwood and it was hard not to notice, it was some of her favorite smells.

"It feels like we're being watched..so, I didn't necessarily hear anything." She spilled without them having to push too hard. They hummed at the response, a little frown seemed to dust their lips for a moment but then they grinned widely, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight. It was as if they were proud of something.

"Well yes, that would only make sense. We are at a graveyard after all. I feel them as well but they know not to approach me so as long as you keep up you won't be snatched into the void between life and death." They informed, their words chilling.

This graveyard hosted the bodies of those that passed away during the plague, their spirits watched from a distance but with hunger in their eyes just being near a walking, breathing, person. Her flesh reminded them or theirs before they plague tore it off them or melted it away. Now they looked like ghouls, the energy that they carried was heavy. Heavier than anything else Bismuth had ever felt before and to be honest, their phrasing did nothing to ease her this time.

Her face didn't match theirs, she didn't have a wide grin on her lips like they had in theirs. She nodded though, surely they didn't mean too much harm by saying that right?

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you." They spoke lastly as they moved off the pavement to venture into the grass into an open plot. There was already a headstone in the dirt but nothing was on it as Valdemar knelt down to slide the body bag from their shoulder to the ground to rest in the grass. Bismuth had fallen silent, the churning in her stomach had turned back into a wild fluttering.

"Right…" she manages to say softly as she pets her warm cheeks with her free hand. They don't respond immediately this time, taking the shovel in their hands now. She hovers close but they wave her back a little.

"Hold the light." The ordered calmly and she nodded. As they started digging she couldn't help but look around the graveyard again, surveying the area. She couldn't see any faces, not any ghoul like creatures but she could…feel them. A heavy shiver ran up her spine for a split moment. She still felt sick even with them being near, felt as if at any time she'd feel someone breathing down her neck tickling the strands of hair there. She shifted on her feet as the Quaestor kept digging, they were a little over a foot deep now, eyes focused on the goal. She watched as they went further and by the time that they dug enough for just their headdress to be seeable Bismuth was shivering again.

Her dark eyes glanced around again, first time quickly, darting from corner to corner now, checking her surroundings continuously but being sloppy with the task as well since she feared that she'd actually see something this time. It was when her eyes looked at the body bag next to the large hole that she froze. For the splittest of moments it seemed like it had moved and she squeaked and jumped at the very thought. She was spooked, the longer she stood here with this light the more she felt like she was drawing moths in. They circled her, the sound of fluttering wings in her ears loud and overstimulating.

"What is it now Bismuth?" Valdemar called out again, this time peeking their head up from the hole to look at the woman. If it wasn't the fact that the woman was practically scared shitless she probably would have found their position a little humorous for it distantly reminded her of a gopher sticking its head out of the dirt. No, she trembled and upon seeing her Valdemar lifted a brow. Surely it was her own fear at this point, nothing had come for her all night and yet she was this frightened.

"I..uh…" she stuttered and they sighed. If they could guarantee that she was strong enough they'd suggest switching spots. No way that could happen, she'd take too long in that state and it's not like they wanted to give her that much work anyway.

"It won't be too long now if that helps ease you. With how scared you seem I can count on the fact that you'll never come here alone right?" They chuckled while going back to work looking back to the hole as they dug the shovel in again but the woman let out a much smaller laugh, rubbing her arm with her free hand again. This was probably why Valdemar didn't bring her along with them to begin with until today, this seemed like only a place they could thrive in. They didn't seem fearful or nervous at all to be here, they almost seemed to blend right in and that made the woman feel a little embarrassed… She was an adult and yet she shook like a young child right now who was scared the Boogeyman would get her. Maybe she was just overreacting…even if she felt sick to her stomach.

"Yes, I don't think I could be caught dead here." She replied without much thought and for a moment complete silence settled between them before Valdemar snorted, then they let out a roar of laughter. They cackled as if she meant to tell that joke, as if they'd slap their knee at any given time. They curled in on themselves, using the handle of the shovel for support as their wicked laughter filled the air.

Usually people would be unnerved by this but Valdemar had a nice tone of laughter, Bismuth noticed even if she had jerked upon it first coming out. It felt like they hadn't laughed like that in a long time and even if Bismuth was a little confused she felt warm hearing it. Knowing that she was the source of such made her cheeks flush and for a moment she felt a soft smile beginning to form on her lips as they let it all out.

That was until a hand, cold and clammy, slapped over her mouth with harsh pressure. It held an iron grip on her as shock surged through her entire being from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Suddenly that warmth she felt shattered into an icy feeling of wriggling worms in her gut as the lantern fell from her hand, knocking the lit flame out and enveloping the area in the darkness once more.

When Valdemar eventually calmed themselves they hummed in content.

"Bismuth I didn't know you were a comedian-" they began to praise the little woman but froze when they realized how dark it had gotten so suddenly. Immediately they clambered out of the hole, it was deep enough now anyway. All that was needed was to toss it in and bury it but now something else was on Quaestor Valdemar's mind which seemed far more important than the corpse.

"Bismuth?" They stated louder, firmer, this time before snapping their head in the direction of the lantern that now lay abandoned in the grass. They sneered at the object like it was offensive to their very being…they let their guard down for the slightest of moments and that was apparently just enough. They didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what had happened.

Their hands were freezing cold as they held her tightly, hands gripping and grasping at her like they'd tear the skin right off her body at any time. Bismuth was in a frenzy, kicking wildly even if none of them seemed to make any actual contact as if she was kicking nothing but air, as if no one was really there but they had to be…their hold was starting to get awfully painful. Tears were leaking from Bismuth's eyes as she looked up at the various faces. The spirits, which she could now see even if she wished she couldn't, had black eyes but nothing like hers which were laced in anguish, their eyes were soulless, empty, and devoid of any purpose or care for her. They wrestled her on the ground as if trying to drag her down to Hell with them.

'Flesh.'

One of their voices stated, eery and chilling to the ear. Raspy and hungry as a hand slid down her warm cheeks, wiping at Bismuth's tears even if more took their place. She snapped her head away, turning it to try and avoid the touch but another, different hand roughly grabbed her chin and turned her back.

'Such…warm skin.'

Another voice echoed, it was hard to tell who it came from but the spirits faces which had previously been devoid of emotions turned into slow, knowing grins. Their teeth were wicked and the lines on their faces seemed abnormal, inhumane, and Bismuth gagged on puke which had built in her. They didn't seem to care, if she choked on her own bile then surely they could take her flesh a lot sooner after she died and proceed to drag her soul into the afterlife with them. They seemed to collectively communicate this between themselves as their grins grew even wider. There were quite a number of them, fifteen or so and counting as spirits seem to curiously leave their graves to see what the ruckus was all about.

It wasn't often that a human like her, or a human of any case, came through this graveyard and being victims of the plague only gave the spirits reasons to have a vendetta. Quaestor Valdemar had been their deaths and for many long years their spirits have been contained in this area where magic of the Quaestor held them in place. However, when the Quaestor approached today and with a cute little human with them at their hip, the spirits decided the best case of repayment for their internal suffering was to take from the lead physician themselves. Which is why when their guard was at its lowest they took her and dragged Bismuth further into the graveyard like a human rag doll.

Bismuth continued to squirm and wrestle them, her clothes getting dirty as she kicked up grass and dirt in her fight. Her clothes were wet with mud. Eventually a cold hand clasped around her ankle making her gasp as one of her last attempts to get away from these people, these creatures,…was taken from her. Hands already held down her wrist against the freezing ground as a spirit sat on her chest, a lady with long inky black hair…much too similar to Bismuth's.

'Lets take her…'

'Drag her back to hell with us…'

'Feed off her flesh and bones…'

'Savor her warm blood…'

The voices spoke as if they were circling and this time Bismuth was permitted to hear the conversation and when she did her eyes widened in absolute fear. They wanted to feed off her, consume her as if she was…prey.

The ghostly woman above Bismuth leaned down, long sharp nails digging deep into Bismuth's wrist, hard enough to make them bleed. Bismuth cried in pain under the hold but the woman continued, leaning close until she slid her tongue out. It was long, gray in color, Bismuth looked at her in wary and when the woman slowly trailed that cold tongue over Bismuth's tear stained cheek the living woman croaked under the hand over her mouth. More tears fell, the woman was tasting her and as much as she wanted to fight and run Bismuth couldn't do anything but stay glued to the ground under their surprising strength. She couldn't even move her hands to perform any form of magic that could save her.

Her thoughts went to Valdemar. She wondered where they were, if they were still laughing at the gravesite even. Her heart twisted in her chest, she was sure they would have never found themselves in this situation. They were strong, something that she didn't see herself as at times and this was definitely one of those times. What if they…were embarrassed by her? If they could see her now, fighting uselessly against a bunch of ghosts with no luck would they laugh at her like they laughed at her joke? A cruel, chilling laugh as if they saw no use in her? This is probably why they didn't trust her enough to bring with them to this place before, this whole time she had been useless and nothing but a nuisance. Surely if she had never come they wouldn't have had to deal with her and could have finished a lot quicker.

And now, she was going to die. At the hands of Quaestor Valdemar's own victims who saught revenge.

Bismuth sobbed, she was scared. Her stomach hurt like it had never down before and when the ghostly woman above her bared her teeth as if to bite Bismuth squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

…Then, the sound of swishing wind filled the air like a whip. It took a moment for Bismuth to realize what happened until screeching cries filled the air and a firm hand grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled her back with a heave. She bounced a little at being pulled back, blinked heavily as those tears fell and she tried to make sense of what occurred. It was when she looked up, lifting her head from the ground, that her eyes widened in awe, heart leaping in her throat.

In front of her stood…the Quaestor. Their back was to her, tall and broad as they stood in front of her as if they were…protecting her. In their hand was a weapon, one she's never seen them with before now and her eyes sparkled just seeing it, just being in its presence. It was a scythe, a long beautiful scythe with an ancient looking skull holding the blade together to the staff. They twirled it in their hands with a form of grace she's never seen before with any else and the head of the blade twinkled in the moonlight.

"Bismuth…" Valdemar stated in a calm tone though their voice was also firm. She immediately jumped just hearing it.

That was all though from them as they twisting their right wrist, scythe practically glowing. She clutched her shirt with shaking hands, the screeching had dialed down into growling and snarling except for one spirit, the woman who sat on Bismuth, her head had been severed from her body, lying limp on the ground and slowly turning to dark ash. A few spirits had been cut down, bodies turning into ash, melting away in the wind. Bismuth's heart was racing in her ribcage far too much for her to even say anything without her voice shaking. It was fine though for Valdemar still wasn't done dealing with the rest of the now infuriated ghosts.

"I'll only say it once. Get back in your graves, now, and I won't have to destroy all of you." The Quaestor stated with an eerily smooth tone. A few spirits backed off and hesitated just hearing them, faltering at the weight that those words carried. They sounded a little…angry.

Were they angry for her?

'Tch! As if!' A spirit roared, a man with dark crunchy hair. He and a few others decided to try again and as they bomb rushed the Quaestor Valdemar who narrowed their gaze, sharp fuschia eyes zoned in on their opponents as they rushed forward, and with a reeled back swing they slashed at the incoming borage. The wind produced by the scythe time was enough to slash at the trees even beyond the graveyard. It was seeable too, the slash that is. It was bright, their magic being a vibrant emerald color with specks of lighter greens and onyx's. The trees that were slash fell to the ground with loud, destructive thuds and with them came more screeching as spirits who didn't listen to the Quaestor's words lost their heads much like those before them. The slash had even sliced through rows of graves, shattering them with the impact.

As their bodies crumbled and collapsed the few spirits who had a sense of mind trembled in fear, looking at the Quaestor who stood unyieldingly in front of the woman behind them, before scurrying like a bunch of roaches and rodents back into their graves.

Quaestor Valdemar stood in silence for a moment as Bismuth tried to get on her feet before turning to her. They could be heard taking in a long deep breath through their nose before slowly releasing it from their smooth lips before turning to the woman, scythe dissolving from their hands into inky black, gas like tendrils before disappearing altogether. Their gaze on her seemed unreadable, not like they were easy to read begin but over the time of working by their side even Bismuth had gotten to know some of their expressions. This one however…

She scramble to her feet, wincing at the feeling of the scratches that had come from being dragged and the forming bruises on her skin. Even so she stood, holding one of her arms now. She still had tears in her eyes and almost as if ashamed she slowly lowered her gaze, bangs sweeping over her eyes.

"Doctor…I'm…I'm…" she sniffled. She shouldn't have come with them. She had been nothing but a nuisance after all. She wanted to apologize and is her mouth quivered she opened her mouth to officially get it out but the feeling of arms enclosing her made her jump and jerk into silence. Her mouth lightly fell open and her eyes had blown wide open as the moon shined down on them.

They were hugging her.

Shock rushed through her body.

"Don't." They started, arms hugging her even closer. She's never touched them before, sure they hovered over her at times and lingered closely but never once have they ever…held her. Never once had she even been this close to them, close enough to take in that sweet scent, enough to touch their pristine clothing, or enough to feel the light warmth that radiated from them. Her fingers twitched, carefully moving up to wrap around them too. A part of her feared reciprocating but surely this meant it was allowed though right? Surely she could have this from them.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt too badly. I let my guard down and just like that you were taken from me. Taken from my side. I must still have work to do when it comes to keeping you safe." They hummed against her, breath lightly tickling her neck making her shiver softly, a blush coloring her cheeks as she bit her lip. Her heart hurt, the tone in their voice sounded hopeless, grateful but analytical. It sounded like they were blaming themself for everything that had happened.

Before Bismuth had noticed she had started to shed tears, for some reason she felt lighter and Valdemar's scent and the hand rubbing soothing circles in her back didn't help calm her sobbing. She felt many things suddenly; relief, sadness, confusion and something much more fluffy.

Admiration.

She couldn't immediately understand what they were doing or why but she didn't mind. She would never mind something like this and from someone like them specifically. She almost tightened her hold when she felt them slowly pulling away but she restrained herself. They moved their hands to her shoulders and gave them a little squeeze.

"Let's get back to the palace, I'll check over you and look over your wounds." They hummed, right hand moving to caress her cheek, wiping at a few tears before lightly cupping her cheeks and tilting it to look a little closer at her. They seemed rather occupied for someone who said they'd check it later, were they actually worried? Even with her blushing hot cheeks she stayed still as they hovered close to her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, hands on their biceps. A chuckle eventually left their lips, filling the night air. Next thing Bismuth knew there was a soft pair of lips against her cheek. She blinked in confusion before her face exploded in a bright crimson color.

"At least they didn't scruff up this little face of yours too badly. Come on, let's go." They spoke, tone going from lightly joyous to a more professional one once more but even so Bismuth could have sworn their face had also grown a bit dark in hue. She slapped her hand over her cheek and sputtered, officially at a loss for words.

"You! Huh?! Oh God…" She concluded in defeat. Her face was so flushed as she followed them. It was like she immediately had forgotten what had previously occurred to her. They had…kissed her! Her heart was practically running laps in her chest so fast that she had to reach a hand up and grip her shirt. She had never thought they'd do such a thing, did that mean they felt something for her like she had for them for so long now? Is that why she caught them staring at her at times or seemingly overprotective with her, even a bit clingy at times? She didn't mind those times with them was this proof?

She sure hoped it was.

She opened her mouth to say something about it after a while of walking with them. They had made their way back to the grave, the body was gone now in the dirt, buried beneath the earth and next to the gravestone was the lantern. Valdemar grabbed it before they continued the walk, leading Bismuth back to the fence.

"Um…Quaestor?" She started softly as they walked the trail.

"Valdemar is fine." They replied with no issue. Bismuth nodded.

"Alright but…I'm just…a little confused. I don't want to assume but…back there you…" she squeezed out, Valdemar could probably see her tapping for pointer fingers together like a shy child. They lifted a brow, glancing down at her at their side before laughing a little, now looking at her fully again as they made their way back to the palace.

"Can't even wait for us to get back to safety before you ask those things?" They inquired, tone lightly teasing as they looked away once more. "It's been a long time since I've felt for someone as I do with you. That's what you were going to ask right? Well, I thought it'd be the best way to show you how I felt, maybe I got caught up in the moment as well." They explained and Bismuth fell into silence, eyes wide, and heart stunned. Were they really just confessing to her?

"Was I wrong to do so? I read that maybe people liked to use cheek kisses for those they like, would you prefer a different one?" They hummed, a grin on their lips but yes their cheeks were bright as well, a little blush of their own. They had read up on something like that just for her? She needed to know more but even then it felt like her heart would explode out her chest at any moment. How long have they felt this way for her? What books had they read? What ideas did they have for different kisses?

Bismuth was a mess, if she could tuck her face into her shirt for a moment she probably would.

"I've liked you for so long…" she whispers and Valdemar hums.

"And the feeling is mutual, so let's talk about it when we get back. We can discuss whatever you'd like and I'll answer with honesty to each one. " They promised and from there Bismuth nodded, butterflies practically bubbling up her throat as they eventually exited the woods.

"Okay." She agreed softly.

#writing comissions #writing community #commissions open #writing #the arcana x reader #the arcane game #thank you for the commission!#quaestor valdemar #valdemar x reader #valdemar #valdemar x mc #oc commission #commission me #commissions are open #otome romance

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write-kin · 7 months ago

Text

helping hands

cal gets a chance to assist his new benefactor, and ignores an unpleasant truth. (thank you again to @just-a-silly-little-whumper for letting me play touys with your guys)

CWs: violence, mentioned gore, Lord Soren Denholm (just in general), torture, psychological manipulation, typical lord denholm stuff really

Cal turns the feather in his fingers, examining it. It’s off-white, long, the size of his forearm. Sturdy, but not as sturdy as it could be. Bryn’s feathers were sturdier, stronger, almost denser. Of course, those belonged to a were-griffin, so they were different creatures.

“You can keep it, if you’d like,” Lord Denholm says dismissively, “he has plenty more.”

“He?” Cal asks, and is met with a small ‘mm’ in response.

“Ah, I forget you’re not familiar with them. When did you say your Master would be retrieving you?” Cal grimaces at the phrasing. “My Lord,” Cal says, insistent on the terminology, “said he had sent a carriage which would arrive at the end of the month.”

“About ten days, then. Good. Tell me- how is Lord Valdemar these days? Rumors abound that he’s gone quite mad.” Cal sighs, a small sliver of irritability slipping into his tone.

“Meaningless conjecture, I assure you. He is fine. Honestly, I’m half-glad he’s isolated us, to avoid all the chatter.”

Lord Denholm laughs a bit, and pulls back from the bookshelf he’s been shuffling through. He looks at Cal, eyes trailing to the feather he’s examining, and then back at Cal’s face.

“You seem quite enamored with that feather. Would you like to meet who it came from?”

Cal nods a yes. He has no idea what he’s in for.

Cal hardly expects to be walked down into the dungeons, but he supposes he should have expected it. Lord Denholm gives him a short tour of some of the areas they pass, but all of the information he vaguely processed goes out the window when he sees a humanoid figure cloaked in its own ivory-white wings. He watches his host unlock the door to the cell, and follows him, eyes wide in curiosity.

Lord Denholm holds out a hand, indicating for Cal to wait. He opens the door, stepping in first, speaking so low, so quietly that Cal is sure he isn’t supposed to hear this.

“Hello, little ruin. I’ve brought you a new friend.”

He stalks back towards Cal, gesturing him into the room. Cal steps in, hands folded in front of him, feeling like a child being introduced to a class. Instead of several equally-nervous students in front of him, however, there’s just one other person, wrapped in their own wings.

Lord Denholm looked at Cal before frowning, stepping forwards and beginning to gently tease the wings from where they wrapped around the stranger, nudging them open.

The best way Cal could describe him was an angel, hair golden, warm brown eyes clouded and unfocused. He was dressed in thin clothes, not nearly enough to keep him warm in the cold air of the dungeon, and he stared off into space, beyond the two of them. He was breathing, leaned on the wall, wings wrapped around him. The lights were on, but no one was home.

Cal moves to ask a question, but he’s interrupted before he can get a single sound out.

“Completely catatonic, unfortunately. He can’t feel, see, or hear anything. I do try to wake him up, of course, but nothing has worked.”

Cal saw something twitch in Lord Denholm’s face, but couldn’t identify what it was. He chose to identify the emotion as exhausted resignation, no matter if that was truly what was being expressed or not.

“On the bright side, it does make for a useful body for experimentation.” Cal was about to speak, to protest, but was interrupted. “He won’t remember anything, and while I typically have… someone else… fix him back up after, I presume you wouldn’t mind assisting me instead?”

It takes a second, but Cal nods. “I suppose there’s no harm in it. What are you looking to accomplish?” Lord Denholm smiles, and there’s a flicker of something Cal can’t place as he takes Cal by the forearm and pulls him closer to the angel.

“I’ve been working on a little something. You brought up a history with studying magic, yes?” “Yes, but- mine’s more of a study of necessity. Of handling the issue of too much latent magic.” “Mm.” Lord Denholm nods. “This is… not that. Do you consider yourself qualified to assist me in testing a spell? Unfortunately, it is one which needs a living subject, and my other test subjects have had… a difficult time. It must be him.” Cal rolls the idea around in his head. On one hand, someone who can’t fight back, who may be unaware of what’s happening… it makes him feel sick, a sinking feeling settling into his throat. But on the other hand, Lord Denholm’s sharp eyes on him and his own desire for power- even over one who is powerless- he can’t help but buckle under the pressure.

“Alright. What do you need?”

The sharp smile widens, and he pulls Cal closer.

“I’ve been testing- prototyping, really- a spell. I need you to be on hand as I test it for today. I’m attempting a small medical examination, to monitor him. Make sure he’s well.” Cal pauses, but nods. That makes sense. “Could you fetch him for me? Just up onto the table there, please.” Lord Denholm gestures to a table across the room, about waist height.

Cal looks over. The angel has chains around his ankles- poetic, in any other situation- and he looks like he’s worlds away, eyes clouded over.

He steps forwards, crouching down a bit. “Hi. My name’s, um… Cal. It’s nice to meet you.” He paused, looking back to Lord Denholm, who raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to have to get close now, okay?” He knew the man couldn’t hear him, of course, but it made him feel better to talk like this. Soft and low, like one would talk to a child afraid of a new adult. Slowly, Cal knelt down and reached out, clicking open the cuffs one at a time before he picked up the angel- a bit of an odd embrace, seeing as he was taller than Cal and had huge, beautiful wings, which made the whole ordeal a bit difficult and clumsy. After a bit of struggle, he ended up ‘walking’ the angel with his arm over Cal’s shoulders, even as one of the wings kept bumping into his face.

Still, he brought the man over, sitting him up on the table, holding his hands and propping him up against the wall for stability.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. He can’t hear you.” Lord Denholm took long strides until he stood beside Cal, placing a couple of things down on the table.

“It makes me feel better. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.” Cal’s reply was met with a sharp scoff, a barely-smothered laugh.

“And here I was thinking most fledgelings like you took after their sire. You do know what Valdemar gets up to in his castle, yes?” Cal pauses.

“I’m aware. The difference is that we work on those who deserve it.” Another laugh. “And what makes you think that he doesn’t? He could be a murderer. A con artist. Or worse.” Lord Denholm runs a hand over the man’s wing as he speaks, a small smile on his face.

“He’s an angel,” Cal says, “they don’t- they aren’t capable of things like that.” The look of mild, amused incredulity he gets in response to that tells Cal his education at the abbey may have been a bit lacking in more places than he realized.

“I want you to hold him as he is.” Lord Denholm speaks, and Cal nods, hopping up on the table so he can support the man. He gets another amused chuckle from his host as he shifts to put his hands on the angel’s shoulders, supporting him quite awkwardly.

“Good. Keep him like that.” There’s an odd tone in Lord Denholm’s voice, one that makes Cal almost wonder if something else was going on, but instead he just focused on keeping the angel in place. He tried to keep the two of them as comfortable as possible. After all, it was for the good of research, but nobody had to be uncomfortable, right?

A flick of the wrist, and his host’s hand has a faint shimmer of magic over it. Impressive. He smiles, a look that says ‘watch this’, and then his hand is pressing into the angel, right under his collarbone, on the side where Cal holds him.

It’s equal parts fascinating and nauseating as the hand pushes through the flesh with all the effort of pushing your hand through mud. No claws, no blood, nothing but a simple, easy, smooth motion. Cal isn’t sure if he’s blinked while he watches the display.

Against his best interests, Cal lets out a low whistle, wide-eyed and impressed. Denholm grins, and moves his hand, slowly, like he’s pushing through molasses. There’s no visible wound left when his hand moves, but there’s some bruising on the angel’s dark skin.

“His muscles are in good shape. There’s the same ratio of muscle to fat from last time I checked him.” Cal nods, feeling like he’s supposed to be taking notes. Something in his brain calls bullshit, and he tells it to shut up before any doubt can settle in.

“You’ve done this before?” “I have to make sure he’s not deteriorating. What kind of a host would I be if I let my guests break down under my care?”

Cal decides that’s good enough, and shifts the angel when Lord Denholm waves a hand, moving him so he slumped forwards a little. The hand inside of his chest presses in further, and there’s an uncomfortable bulge visible on the man’s shoulderblade as Denholm searches for something. Cal feels a little nauseated. After a bit of this, Denholm presses down, and there’s a sudden, violent jerk of the angel’s arm, shoulder going up and almost hitting Cal. After he settles back down, the man’s breathing steadying back to low, shallow breaths, Denholm removes his hand, coated in blood.

Cal’s stare as Lord Denholm lazily draws his tongue along his thumb, tasting the man’s blood, doesn’t go unnoticed. His fangs have extended, and he hadn’t realized just how hungry he’d been until just now.

With a chuckle, Denholm extended his hand to Cal.

“Would you like a taste?” He was… hungry. But the idea… it sickened him a bit, even as the orange-scarlet caught what little light there was in the room and shimmered in its thin coating on the man’s hand.

“I’m okay.” “If you insist.” The smug grin returned, and Cal’s host knelt down a little, so his face was roughly level with the man’s stomach.

“His reflexes work. Remind me if we do this again while you’re here, alright? I want to see what I can do with that.” Cal nodded again. “Move him so he faces forwards.” The man was shifted from his slightly diagonal positioning, and Cal settled down, watching his host and the angel in equal parts. Idly, he looked at the feathers next to his face. Bryn had preened before, so he was used to dealing with feathers from winged humanoids. They were pretty.

A soft grunt echoed from the man, which caused one of Denholm’s eyebrows to raise. Cal looked back down, and saw that his host had a hand inside of the angel’s stomach. “Are they… like human organs?” Cal asks, against his better judgement. He’s only met with a shrug in return, though.

He stares as the hand runs through intestines none of them can see, sometimes eliciting small noises that seem to come more from bodily instinct or pressure on the lungs than anything else. The only movement Cal makes is to push up his glasses. The movement is almost hypnotic. In his mind, he’s imagining the movement of intestines, the idea of pulling them out like unraveling a skein of yarn. It’s oddly, disgustingly beautiful, and he almost loses himself in the mental image.

Then, after what felt like moments and eons, the hand moves, pulling out of the flesh slightly, never fully leaving.

“I want to try something new, alright?” Denholm asks, and Cal gets the feeling he’s not the one being spoken to here. For a stark moment, he’s just an accessory to this exchange, a pawn in-

No. No, no, this is research. Denholm is talking to himself, nothing else. He moves the man so Denholm could more easily press his hand back in, at the shoulder, searching with intent this time.

He presses in, just a bit farther, and his wrist shifts like he’s grabbing something.

Cal didn’t expect to see the man’s pupils come into focus. He expected the sharp intake of breath even less. And when the wings stretched out and one snapped to hit him directly in the face, he was taken completely off-guard, knocked to the floor with surprising strength.

His hand flew up, and Cal wasn’t sure if it was the fact he’d just been hit in the head with a wing- and then shortly after, the floor he’d fallen onto- or not, but he was momentarily delighted when a small trickle of blood came out of his nose. He was circulating- which meant he was healthy, for a vampire.

He came back to his senses relatively quickly, though, and he realized what was going on. Denholm was shaking his hand off, and the angel was breathing heavily, eyes wide, having moved drastically.

“Sir- Mister- Lord Denholm, we woke him up!” “No.” Cal’s excitement was cut short as he saw Lord Denholm step closer, and something- magic- snap around the wrists of the angel, pinning his hands to the table. In a panic, Cal scrambled back up to his feet, darted forwards, trying to dispel whatever this was- he was awful at figuring out what magic was what, if Bryn was here he’d have it figured out, if Bryn was here he’d have some salve or herb or potion or incantation that could free the man in seconds.

“Hello, my little ruin.” Lord Denholm’s voice had lost the gentle, if sleazy, kindness it’d had when he spoke to Cal. It was now equal parts predator and poison, calm and cold and slimy.

“That’s not my name.” The angel spat, struggling against the bindings.

“Altair, then. Don’t get used to it. I trust you enjoyed our experiments?”

Altair. Elze’ith- from two nights ago, the nice one he’d spoken to, the pretty thing- had spoken of him. Of being separated. Of longing, and desperation, and wishes for him to be safe, wherever he was.

Cal made a mental note not to tell Elze’ith of this.

A hand pressed against Cal’s chest, pushing him in a smooth motion so he stepped back, hands pulled away from where he was trying to dispel the magical restraints.

Denholm had brushed past him like he was nothing, and the way he looked at Altair was sickeningly hungry.

“Did you like your new friend? He’ll be staying with us for a few days. I thought I’d show him a few of my favorite things.” Cal’s stomach turned in knots, and he stepped forwards again. He can explain, he’s sure this is some sort of misunderstanding, there’s a happy ending to this. There’s a way things work out where nobody’s mad and he can do the right things and everyone likes him. He’s sure of it.

“Are you- are- are you okay, I-” “Quiet.”

Denholm’s voice catches him off guard, and Cal shuts up. This is different. Lord Valdemar- Montresor- has only spoken to him like this a few times. It’s gotten the message across. Enough for Cal’s voice to die in his throat, even as it’s another lord giving the order.

Altair snaps something at him, hisses some insult Cal isn’t privy to, and Denholm hisses something back. Cal feels like a foreign element, and he just wishes his legs would let him run, let him get the hell out of here, try and find his way back home and not stop running until he’s back in his king’s arms.

“Cal,” Lord Denholm says, and he looks over his shoulder. Cal stares back, and he hopes to everything he considers powerful that he doesn’t look half as scared and sickened as he feels. “You seemed interested in Altair here. How about I leave you two alone to get to know each other?” The tone shift catches him off-guard. He’s done something wrong. He’s not sure what. It’s like he’s back at the abbey again, and when Denholm waves his hands to extinguish the torches across the room, Cal realizes he’d probably told the man a little too much when they spoke by the fire a few nights ago. He can’t make himself speak, can’t make himself move. He doesn’t have half the fight Altair does- Altair, who’s still trying to free himself, wings fluttering wide.

Denholm’s smug smile returns, and Cal suddenly, painfully understands how it feels to be on the other side of the power dynamic here.

“And don’t bite too hard, if you need to feed. I like him alive.”

And then he closes the door, the magic dissipates, and Cal and Altair are left alone, to stare at one another in the darkness.

#whumpee: cal #oc: cal #ask to tag #whump #whump writing #others ocs: lord denholm #others ocs: altair

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