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sabotsen · 24 days ago

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Dismantling Lighthouses

Brief monster oc introductions.

Warnings: Subtle yandere vibes; Reader/Darling is GN as always.

Synopsis: You are pulled from the sea one stormy night, bereft of your memories and find yourself in a small coastal village home to not a single human.

Your first memory is of darkness. Heavy — the kind that sunk like tar down to your bones with a chill that thrummed in your veins. Pulled from the brink... That's what they say when the sunlight blinds your eyes. When the blanket settles too heavy upon your limbs despite the thinness of the sheet. Lucky, they all agree even when the air burns too thick in your lungs and your voice breaks upon your chapped lips. Are you? Truly?

Aodhán: Fire Elemental.

Aodhán is the sole power source to the lighthouse and much of the gas lamps / lighting within the village itself. For various reasons, they are unable to leave the village, and even traveling down the cliff to linger by the shore is extremely taxing on them. It’s an unspoken rule that Aodhán is forbidden to leave the lighthouse, even during the day — but this rule is enforced only by Ísveig, and several of the other villagers turn a blind eye when Aodhán wanders down to the sea for brief respites.

It is Aodhán who spotted you that one stormy night. They have a habit of searching the sea and pestering Tovv to investigate anything odd they happen to catch sight of, especially any odd heat signatures spotted. They certainly did not expect that they caught a glimpse of in the dark waters was a human, of all things, but your company has been a fascinating gift in and of itself.

Aodhán’s body is exclusively fire and flame but they can condense and cool the surface flames to form a makeshift body more tangible. The “skin” is just shy of rough, with bright cracks that glow red along the surface like starry trails in the sky. Occasionally wisps of smoke curl from the cracks in their skin but most of it condenses on their head and tumbles across their shoulders in a facsimile of hair that twists and curls in a constantly changing shape. Aodhán has to concentrate to be sure they maintain the temperature they want so they don't burn whoever they touch or is touching them. Overall, though, the shape they take on is malleable and they can form their molten body into the facsimile of any creature they desire.

Since maintaining form for extended periods takes a lot of energy, Aodhán predominantly only forms a body from the torso up when he is lounging in the large cauldron that houses his flame in the lighthouse.

Aodhán is friendly at heart, bright and always full of energy. They immediately feel a sense of kinship with you over the shared loss of memory. Despite their long time in service to the village, Aodhán has no memories of their time before they awoke in the lighthouse. They are always happy, and perhaps too eager, to pull you close and watch you try something new — be it a food, or a story, or new sights found around the village. There’s a certain sense of joy they get watch you laugh and smile.

Perhaps it’s because they are the single power source for the village but Aodhán is almost always hungry. Their diet is primarily the coal and ore Raksa sends up with you, but they are particularly fond of the occasional geodes that can be found in the mines or traded for with the occasional visiting sea merchants. Their flames and heat get noticeably weaker and dimmer the longer they go without fuel.

Due to his forced (almost total) seclusion, Aodhán has not seen any humans, so they are fascinated by your (weak) body heat and the softness of your skin. Long are the hours they spent in the middle of the night, while operating the lighthouse, trying to perfect control of their own body heat. After all, they can’t risk burning you — no, no, no, you’re too delicate, too fragile like the daisy growing on the cliff. They have to reign in their heat and cool the surface of their molten body just enough that when they press against your soft flesh it leaves only bruises and not scorched skin. They master it well enough — but not fast enough to their taste, those days they could not touch you were long and torturous. Thereafter, whenever you venture to the lighthouse, Aodhán is quick to pull you into a hug, quicker still to press against you and curve their form against yours as they bask in the unique heat that is yours and yours alone.

Aside from Raksa, who provides their fuel, and Tovv, who they have pestered long enough to befriend, Aodhán is not particularly close to anyone else in the village. Perhaps that’s why when you miss a day or two without stopping by, they are that much more clingier when they do finally see you. Their touch on those days edges right on the edge of tolerable, their heat just a little too warm as they clutch at your clothes and arms.

Warnings: Obsession runs extremely deep, as does their curiosity and fascination. The malleable feature of their body is something Aodhán is all too happy to use if it means pulling a reaction from you. Unlike Raksa, Aodhán does not like to see you cry but tears from overstimulation are quickly and easily written off as pleasure, which they then take as encouragement to continue. Their greatest thrill is service and worship, to a frightening degree.

Easily Jealous of: Tovv, Raksa — whatever you need, whatever parts of them intrigue you, Aodhán can be. You need only stay here in the flames, starlight.

Bad End Jealousy: Ísveig.

Raksa: naga (gaboon viper markings; trademark long fangs)

Runs the village’s smithy and prepares the coal and ore for Aodhán to use for lighthouse operations.

With a sharp grin and a tilt of his head, it is Raksa who takes you under his wing and shelters you from Ísveig’s ire by providing you a means to contribute to the village. All you need do is help around the smithy and deliver a few things to the lighthouse daily. Easy, he had said with a grin too wide to be genuine kindness.

Steady with a passing appearance of easy-going, like the deceptive lazy pace of a river winding through a valley, Raksa never gives the impression of someone in a hurry. Focused, perhaps, but never rushed. Even when he works, bathed in the bright flames of the forge, his strikes are precise, controlled – not a single swing of his hammer in vain or miscalculated.

When he is not working, he is oft found coiled around or near the forge, basking in the heat from the flames. His long serpentine tail winds around the base of the forge and he himself rests on a pile of coils beside it. It is only when he sleeps like this, braided hair half loose from his slumber and tossed over his shoulder, that the golden scales tracing his spine are most easily seen. The first time you saw them, shining like shimmering stars against his skin, you nearly traced them without thought. But the cold touch of scales against your ankle just as your fingers neared stopped you in your tracks. The tip of his tail lazily flicking against the inside of your ankle like a kiss as his voice slithered over his shoulder, clear as a bell in winter’s chill air, “Careful, little mouse.”

Raksa isn’t one for chatter usually and unlike Viellhym, he has no interest in gossip. But what he will do is listen, to a frightening degree, perhaps. Of course, his hearing isn’t the best compared to the other villagers so it’s only natural for him to drape himself over you like a willow when you speak. After all, you speak so quietly, little mouse, how else is he supposed to hear you? You don’t mind when he rests his head on your shoulder or leans against your side when speaking, right? If you let him maintain some physical contact while conversing, Raksa is happy to listen all day long, especially if he can slowly pull you into his coils by the end of it.

Raksa absolutely loathes the cold and will cling to anything with heat that passes by. This habit of his isn’t as noticeable when he is in the main workroom of smithy, half coiled around the forge. But if you catch him elsewhere — either in town or even in his own bedroom, your body heat becomes addictive to him. You made the mistake, once, of entering his room one morning to wake him up. Between the twisting nest of blankets and his ever shifting coils tripping you up as his hands grasped at the soft plush of your hips, you did not escape his sleepy hold — let alone his room — until evening.

He doesn’t speak of it often, but it seems he gets occasional bouts of homesickness, particularly when he spends time with Aodhán for long periods. The naga has a soft spot for the fire elemental, though, and as such tends to keep a tight lip about Aodhán’s adventures down to the shoreline.

Warnings: Raksa loves to see you cry and loves it even more when you do so against his coils. Be careful where you tread and the distance you keep, as Raksa’s reach is further than you think and he will not hesitate to strike when you least expect it to pull you into his binding embrace. Squirm, thrash, scream if you like, it will not change your fate, little mouse. You’re right where you belong and he has waited just for this moment when you foolishly believe you are safe in his company.

Easily Jealous of: Aodhán, Tovv — You’re having too much fun with those children, little mouse. The stars in your eyes are beautiful but come back, little mouse, come back.

Bad End Jealousy: Ísveig.

Tovv: Sahagin.

Scales are a deep indigo that bleed into an ink black on his limbs; spine and fins are a bold crimson. Eye is a cloudy, soft pink on land but deepens to the bold red of his fins in the water.

Tovv serves as the village’s protector and primary ship guide for the wharf, as passage inland can be tricky with the rocky outcroppings. He does not venture far from the waters and tends to stay away from the village proper unless absolutely necessary. He primarily lingers near the caves at the base of the cliff that the lighthouse overlooks.

Tovv has long since been a (begrudging) friend of Aodhán, despite their opposing elemental natures. He once gave Aodhán a pearl sahagin utilize for long distance communications and has absolutely regretted it ever since. Aodhán oft syncs up to the pearl Tovv wears around his neck and asks (read: pesters) Tovv to venture out to sea to fetch odd items they spotted heat signatures of. This, of course, is how the two of them found you.

It is Tovv that swims out to sea and coaxes your cold fingers to release the driftwood you’d clung to so desperately. It is Tovv who carefully carries you ashore, your face tucked against his neck — your breath so warm, warm, warm against his scales. It is Tovv who bundles you in his arms and carries you to the inn, despite his loathing of the land. And it is Tovv’s claws that mar your arms when you wake, bloodied by his touch.

After you wake, it takes several days and attempts to catch the creature that pulled you from those cold salt waters. He saw you, of course, every time you ventured down to the wharf and every time you abandoned the wood planks and wandered the sandy shore. Tovv kept his distance at first, a shadow in the waters just out of your sight. You were strange and smelled different. He’d seen humans before, of course, glimpses really — most of them had huddled on the ships he inspected: they were but wares to be sold elsewhere. Not here, though. Ísveig would not suffer a human. Getting caught up in the meddlesome headache for when you finally are either killed or tossed aboard a ship to be sold was not his type of enjoyment. So he kept his distance.

But you were foolish enough to befriend Aodhán, which meant Tovv had to, eventually, suffer your company as well. You came with the fire elemental one night, trailing behind them as if you were afraid to get lost in the dark. You came right up to him and, unafraid of his claws and sharp teeth still bloodied from his meal, you held his hand in your smaller ones and thanked him for pulling you from the sea. The warmth of your touch lingered that night long after you left and Tovv found it increasingly hard to ignore you thereafter whenever you ventured close to the waters.

You find that he is quite blunt by nature and there are several things about both creatures (including humans) who live on land and their way of life itself that is a mystery to him. His curiosity is innocent enough, but it is framed by the sharp edges of his claws and teeth. More than once, he has drawn your blood — an accident — and each time he has offered to clean it for you. There’s a numbing agent in his saliva, he explained once; it makes it easier to eat from his preferred fish while they still yet lived. You had asked once, what he typically ate, and he merely held your injured and bloodied arm in his large grasp, thin lips pulled back in what was supposed to be a smile. But it was too sharp, too threatening, and you could not deny the chill that lances through your spine.

When his focus is not narrowed to a fine point on something of interest, Tovv is rather calm for the most part. He is oddly stuck in his ways and habits, however, and is loath to try something new. He’s more likely to break something while bending it to his needs and habits than to change himself.

Warnings: blood. Tovv is fascinated by your softness and both the scent and taste of your blood rile the more primal side of him. There’s an almost predatory obsession with keeping you within range of his jaws the moment he gets even a hint of your blood in the air or waters.

Easily Jealous of: Aodhán — the fire elemental may have spotted you but it was him that pulled you from the sea. From its waters you came and with the sea — and him — you will always belong.

Bad End Jealousy: Erlind & Margott.

Viellhym: drider.

Viellhym is the village’s innkeeper and the very one who allows you to stay under her roof. She is also the one who wove a special web to act as bandages while you were recovering from being adrift at sea; your sprained ankle and the various bruises and cuts covering your body healed much quicker under her tender care. You’re so fragile as a human, though, so Viellhym worries about you — which takes the form of her hands lightly flitting across your clothes and bare skin. Just checking, of course. Do you hurt anywhere, darling?

Since the village does not often have many visitors aside from the occasional seafarer crew staying a few days while offloading at the wharf, the first floor of the inn doubles as the village’s bar. As such it is one of the best places in the village to hear local gossip. Viellhym prides herself on being in the know of the goings on, both local and across the sea. What you offer to trade for her knowledge is a different matter altogether. Information does not come cheap, especially from her.

Viellhym comes across as soft spoken, despite her large appearance. Her touch, too, is light and barely noticeable, awareness of her touch prickling your skin in the wake of an alien coldness she leaves behind — her hands brushing your hair back or fixing your clothes. Oh darling, it’s nothing, just a stray thread on your clothing. You can’t keep wearing these rags forever, though — won’t you let her weave you some new fabrics? Oh no, no, no trouble at all. You need only hold still for a while — it’s important to get the right measurements, after all.

She is always mindful of both herself and her surroundings; it’s nearly impossible to hear her approach unless she intentionally makes noise. It’s uncanny almost how many times you’ve glanced up when helping clean the inn’s tables to see her suddenly there at the bar, crimson gaze locked on you with that small smile of hers visible between her mandibles. She’s startled you in the hallways more than once, as well, and her gentle coos when she picks you up effortlessly into her arms does little to chase away your nerves. Poor thing, you just startle so easily. How ever did you last this long on your own?

Viellhym likes to prod, regardless of whether it’s for information or entertainment. It’s subtle, too, entirely unnoticeable when she does it unless an observant third party is paying close attention. Perhaps then they might notice the sharpness behind her gentle smile or the precision of her seemingly innocent comments. Slow and gentle, like a spider winding the web around prey.

Warnings: Master manipulator. She thrives on power, which usually comes in the form of information when it pertains to others. Oh, but for you, power doesn’t mean anything unless you’re completely reliant upon her. It has been a long, long time since she last saw a human — she’d forgotten just how soft and delicate they are, and you are just too adorable to leave alone. You would look just adorable wrapped in silk and threads she’s woven — into clothes, blankets, or even just the simple, pure sight of her web pressing against your soft flesh. So come, dear, have a meal, take a rest. Stay a while. You’re home now, after all.

Easily Jealous of: none.

Bad End Jealousy: Tovv — as the guardian of the wharf, he is the only way you’d ever be able to escape the village. She can’t risk you getting too close to him or him to you least you realize the temptation of the land beyond the sea.

Ísveig: Ice dragon.

Ísveig is the current village “elder” or chief, as some call them. They have stood guardian over the village for longer than anyone can recall. The villagers know them for their stern protection of the land and its people, as well as the fierce distrust they harbor of outsiders.

While Ísveig can change forms between masculine or feminine when shifting to something more humanoid in appearance, they prefer a feminine form. There is little difference between the two, however. Their tall stature, firm muscles covered with silver scales, twin horns curling from their temple, long white hair, and those thin rimmed glasses remain unchanged regardless of gender.

Most of the villagers are accustomed to it by now, and Viellhym tried to ease your worries, saying Ísveig simply has a rather harsh expression by default. Perhaps that is true for the most part, but the dragon’s distrust of you to begin with did not help matters at all. Your sudden appearance during a stormy night, with nary a memory or clue to your name or origins spells trouble that the dragon would highly prefer stay far away from the village. When you start busying yourself to help the village folk, though, Ísveig is hard pressed to chase you off.

It takes a while and more than a little help from Viellhym, but you manage to catch glimpses of something softer beneath the ice exterior of the village chief. It’s the small twitch of their lips, a flicker of smile you miss if you blink. It’s the long stare they watch you with, too sharp to be friendly but too heated to be distant. It’s the ‘orders’ you receive to come to their abode in the village, tasting teas and other samples Ísveig is adamant about testing first before fully allowing into the village. It’s the brush of touch swiping along the curve of your hips only to vanish as you turn around.

Warnings: Ísveig is not one to share, nor are they one to take risks. If you needle your way too deep beneath their scales, you will find yourself trapped in the mountains, where the dragon makes their home during the long winter months. The truth of your origins and the hope to recover your memories will become irrelevant in the cradle of the mountain, trapped beneath silver claws.

Easily Jealous of: None.

Bad End Jealousy: Aodhán.

Erlind [Harpy] & Margott [Werewolf]

Erlind and Margott are long standing partners that have kept each other afloat and alive throughout many years long before they ended up in the village. The bond they share is special and extremely deep.

They also balance each other extremely well. Where Margott is upbeat and easily excitable, Erlind is typically steady and grounding. Where Margott loves to tease with a quip and sharp grin to get a rile of someone, Erlind is quicker to soothe ruffled feathers. Margott will take a chance on a whim and luck, whereas Erlind will hesitate and try to find a vantage point. There are times, of course, where Erlind gets swept up in something or another and falls in over his head; Margott always has the widest grin and it’s with a hearty laugh that she pulls her lover out of trouble.

Erlind acts as a courier for the village, though his work sometimes takes him to areas beyond the mountain range and forest. Margott patrols the village forest and acts as an overall guard when dealing with outsiders (primarily at the wharf). They are two peas in a pod and rarely do you see them separated for extended periods. While there is a companionship they share with much of the other villagers, there is a distinct distance they place between them and the others.

Margott was originally tasked to keep an eye on you during your first few days upon waking and wandering the village. She does a fine job at it, as the first time you ran into her, dwarfed by her shadow as she leaned close — those fangs of hers so close to your neck — frightened more than a few years off your life. Erlind is kinder in his approach, perching on his lover’s broad shoulders and offering to give you a tour of the village. The two of them are quick to warm up to you, though. You’re not the first human they’ve met, but you’re certainly the kindest. It soothes the colder, darker memories of your kind that they keep tucked away. When you’re not hidden away in Raksa’s smithy or hiding in the lighthouse with Aodhán, Margott is quick to sweep you up with a laugh and run off with you in her arms, Erlind trailing close behind in the wind.

Despite his calmer appearance, Erlind is easily teased by those he cares for. Margott is quick to give pointers on how best to ruffle his feathers and bring out the prettiest blush across his face, which highlights the freckles dusting across his cheeks. Margott is hard to ruffle, of course. Despite her constant energy, she slows down when she finds something entertaining to trap between her jaws — and oh, how fascinating you are beneath her, little bunny.

It’s innocent enough at first. Margott’s claws firm as they sink into the soft flesh of your hips when she lifts you up, shifting you in her arms to carry because you simply cannot run as fast as she can. Of course she’s going to carry you, she can’t leave you behind, can she? Or when Erlind rests his chin on your shoulder as he presses his chest to your back. A hug, he says, since he can’t exactly give you one with his wings — not an adequate, warm one anyway. If his lips trace the curve of your neck as he pulls away, it’s just simple skinship between friends, little bunny. But as your stay in the village stretches on, their touches linger. It isn’t long before they sink fully into tender flesh, claws and fang alike, trapped between the two.

Easily Jealous of: Tovv — Why are you so interested in the sea and the ships? You’re not planning on leaving, right?

Bad End Jealousy: Extended interest in the wharf or Tovv.

#.tsen rain #Monster oc #yandere oc #No photo banner or fancy formatting bc this 100% isn’t leaving my small circle #bullied into sharing this but I’ll add to it later #I have other things I gotta work on!!! I just wanted this out of my system!!!#feeding myself eternally #Yan vibes are subtle here bc I’m really busy atm but all of them are yan coded bc it’s my kitchen

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