#but i hope thia brings a smile to your face as it did to mine 😊😊🥰

[canariie]

Ahh Rays this was so wonderful! I really love your breathing new life into the character of Momo before she became the Momo we know in the pages of the manga we know :)

I can totally imagine her, the artistic person she is, desperately trying to put marks down on a paper and carve out those memories before they fade away! I think that's something we all can relate to of trying to recollect dreams or even artists trying to project what's in their mind!

I especially loved Toushiro in this! There was something so endearing of how he stayed and positioned himself near her, tho she raised her voice at him, to even that moment of him bumping her ankle!

Toushiro questioning his actions was quite spot on, from him self reflecting if he is normally too pessimistic to holding back words that could hurt her. To even wracking his brain on what he should do! I especially loved how he was quite at a loss of how to comfort, despite that strong desire to, and he turned her words towards her, since that was such a comfort to him. ;')

I also love love loved the added depth to Momo wanting to grow stronger and older so she could visit her family in the real world. I think it made it more endearing of her as a soul who has forgotten love and family, to which toushiro inevitably then becomes her family and love 🥰🥰

And jurinran!granny! I love how she comforts and tells Momo the ways of the dead but Toushior hunting for a peach for Momo! You had my heart ❤️ and Momo calming down not only with Granny's words but also Toushiro's? All so so precious! I truly loved this one, I think this is also one of my favs of yours 🥰

Slowly Fading

Prompt: different

Rating: K/General

Setting: 60+ years before the main story

Synopsis: Momo has been acting strange lately. When she comes over to visit, Toshiro finally confronts her about it.

AN: another month, another prompt for the OTP challenge by @yearoftheotpevent! I was very tempted to write something for the Valentine’s Day prompt, but this idea just wouldn’t leave my mind. This one is a melancholic story, not necessarily angsty but a bit of a downer. It came to me while i was thinking about what happens when a soul starts to forget their life in the World of the Living. How do they cope? Do they even realise it's happening? Do they even remember being human once all their memories are gone?

I admit, I have no idea what art supplies the Soul Society has, but for the sake of this fic I guess I assume they have pencils and sketchbooks? They usually have Edo period items in the Rukongai, but considering there's also a goggles and sunglasses shop there, I imagine they'd have a few 'modern' things too?

Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy it!

__________________________________

Toshiro hesitates at the doorway, watching Momo focus on her drawing. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment she started acting different, but in hindsight, it hadn’t happened suddenly.

It had been a slow thing at first, starting with her gaze softening at certain things – a type of tree in the forest, a stall in the Junrinan that sold hair combs, a mother and her child happily going about their day, a young girl rushing through a crowd back to sibling during a festival – but now it had progressed to strained smiles and a sudden focus on drawing and painting.

Just as with other times, she draws in haste, her hand almost a blur as she switches one colour pencil for another. Her back is arched over her sketchbook, and her head is so close to the page the tip of her nose is only a few inches from the paper. From his short distance, he thinks it looks like a landscape, but not of the forest before them nor of a part of the Soul Society he’s ever seen.

His frown deepens. Something about her drawing somewhere he doesn’t know makes him finally walk out on to the veranda. “Where’s that?”

She didn’t hear, or at least acts like she hadn’t. With a few strokes, she creates another tree amongst the many others that surround a lake. On its shore in the far distance are two indistinguishable figures, seemingly waving at the viewer.

“Oi,” he says, but still he doesn’t get her attention. He folds his arms. “You’re going wear yourself out, bed-wetter.”

She goes rigid at that. “Not now, Shiro-chan! I must concentrate.”

He barely manages to not flinch back; he’s never heard her so tense. In the rare moments where she said something out of annoyance or anger, she's always quick to apologise.

When the latter doesn’t happen, he thinks to go back inside and just wait for her to finish her drawing. Maybe then whatever maddening spell had captivated her would break and she’d remember what she’d shouted at him.

But he doesn’t go back inside. He lowers himself next her, as if sitting next to a dangerous animal that could snap at him any moment. He’s never felt this way around her before, as though she were another Junrinan resident he had to sneak around or to be cautious of. He always thought she could stand to be a bit tougher, but he didn’t like seeing her like this. He’ll take her crybaby moments over whatever this is.

His irritation gradually cools as he watches her draw, not really knowing why he’s here with her. Maybe it’s because whenever he’s angry or upset, she comes to his side. She’ll say some words, perhaps even hug him despite his half-hearted protests, but regardless she always comes to his side. He’s only ever had to comfort Granny in rare moments, he didn’t know how to do the same for others.

She stops drawing several minutes later, and whatever trance it holds over her breaks. She blinks down at her creation as her brows draw upward. It’s as though she isn’t entirely sure she was the one who created the drawing.

It’s not until he shifts his leg, his toe tapping her ankle, that she looks to him. “Shiro-chan…”

“Don’t call me that.” It’s the first time the phrase has been uttered without anger or annoyance. He folds his arms. “You finally done with that?”

Instead of answering his question, she grimaces. “I said something bad before, didn’t I?”

He only shrugs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’ve heard worse.”

She doesn’t voice it, but he can sense that she wanted to say something to the effect of, ‘Even so, it wasn’t nice.’ Instead, she puts her sketchbook aside and turns her gaze to her lap.

Well, it was no use trying to brush this off and move on with their day as if nothing happen. “What’s gotten into you?" he asks. "You’ve been acting different for a while now.”

He can’t tell if she hangs her head in guilt or in contemplation. He kicks his legs idly to release some nervous tension building up within him.

Perhaps realizing he isn’t going to leave her alone, she shallows thickly, and her eyes mist with unshed tears. Her quiet admission almost goes unheard over the call of a nearby bird. “I’m starting to forget things.”

Toshiro quirks up a brow. “Huh?”

“From the World of the Living, I mean,” she clarifies. At his confusion, she sighs. “My friends told me that a Soul gradually forgets their time in the World of the Living. At some point, they don’t even remember being a human. They know they were born in the World of the Living, but they can't remember a single thing about their time there.” One tear falls and lands in between her hands, which are tightly clutching her yukata at the knees. “I don’t want to forget anything. I want to remember mother, father, and my sister forever. I’ve already forgotten how they sound, and now I can’t remember father’s face.”

With a trembling hand, she brings back her sketchbook and tilts it enough for him to see. “This is somewhere I know. I think I knew where it was a few days ago, but today…I don’t remember why we’d come here.” She taps a finger over the figures in the distance. “That’s my family. I have this memory, I think, of them on the other side of this lake. I don’t remember what I was doing…maybe searching for flowers? I don’t know why though, I…” She hiccups and drops her sketchbook into her lap. “I can’t remember anymore.”

What’s the use of remembering things and people you can’t go back to? He almost says it aloud, even has his lips parted to utter it, but her wide-eyed, glassy gaze tightens his throat. He knows he can be brutally honest with his words at best – and callous at worst – and it was often from a place of caring when it came to her, but he can’t bring himself to risk saddening her further.

What was he to do? If only Granny were here, she’d know. If he waits until she returns home, she can handle things. For some reason, that doesn’t make him feel any better. Did he not want to burden Granny with this? Did he doubt she could help Momo?

No, he realizes when his friend lifts her head to him, struggling not to cry. It’s because he is useless to help her. Why did he had to rely on Granny? Why can’t he do anything?

He’s never felt this way before, has only ever been concerned with getting by and ignoring the residents of the Junrinan. He never really felt this way towards Jidanbo, his only other friend; but the giant always seemed to have very few problems. And up until recently, Momo had been the same.

“I wish I were older,” she half sobs. “If I were, I could become a Shinigami and go see them in the World of the Living.” She sniffs and rubs her eyes, releasing two more tears. “It’s stupid to feel this way, isn’t it?”

“No.”

He hadn’t meant to answer so quickly. He can’t tell if she’s surprised by how quickly he answered or what he’d said. Maybe she expected him to say ‘yes,’ and the implication stings. Was he truly that much a pessimist to her?

She wipes away a tear. “But I’m going to forget everything anyway, so I should just…”

“You’ve told me before that it’s not stupid to feel about things that don’t matter to others, that if they matter to you then that's okay. If it’s true for everyone else, then…it’s true for you too.” He cringes at the flush warming his face. What person throws back the same comforting words they once gave to another? Had he no words of his own?

However, Momo looks as if she’s never heard her own advice before. She considers it, gaze falling to the floorboards and shoulder relaxing. Again he waits, but his heart thrums with anxiety. Had he made things worse? He really should have waited for Granny.

As if on cue, the front door slides open and the old woman's voice comes through to the back. She gives a cheerful recounting of how she got certain items and missed others, at first too busy putting food away to notice the awkwardness between he and Momo.

When she finally looks at them and takes in Momo’s teary eyes, she’s quick to put aside the rest of her shopping and sit with the girl. Toshiro excuses himself, saying he’d go get the peaches Granny was unable to buy. The old woman frowns, but gives him a slow nod.

No matter how far Toshiro walks, the heaviness in his chest doesn’t lighten. Not even when he passes the various locations they’d discovered together – the watermelon patch in a clearing, the bushes of hasukappu, or the lone peach tree near a stream. At said tree, he picks off a several fruits and stuffs them into his sleeves. They're not as good as the ones sold in the Rukongai, but if nothing else, Granny, can still make sweets from them.

He returns slower than he left, coming back just as the sun was starting to set. He expects the veranda to be empty, but Momo is still there, drawing. Trepidation makes him slow to approach, but she lifts her head when his shadow falls over her feet.

She’s not surprised like he expected. The underside of her eyes is still red from crying, but her gaze is neutral. “Why did you run off?”

She doesn’t even say his name, and something about that strikes him. He’s so used to hearing that dumb nickname.

Snapping out of his daze, he pulls a peach out from his sleeve. “To get these.” He hands the fruit to her. “They’re in season.”

It almost feels like a peace offering, to say he’s sorry for not helping her and for running off suddenly. His frown deepens at the twitch in one corner of her lip, and even more so at the breathy, failed attempted at a snort.

“What?” he asks.

That seems to make the floodgates open, and she chuckles with a wide grin. “You’re giving me a peach?”

He rolls his eyes at the implication. “Not my fault you were named after a fruit, bed-wetter.”

That turns her smile into a pout. “Shiro-chan!”

“You gonna take it or not?” he grouses, thrusting the fruit into her face. “It’s the best one of the lot.”

He didn’t know that for a fact, but it looks like one of the least blemished one of the fruits. She struggles to look petulant as she puts her pencil back in the box with the others and takes the peach. “Thank you. I’ll eat it later, it’s too close to dinner time.”

“Suit yourself.”

She puts it away in a cloth bag along with her pencils and sketchbook. “Speaking of dinner, I should probably head back.”

He hums in agreement, but neither of them moves.

The awkwardness returns, making him unsure if he should walk her to the front of his house or go inside to put the peaches away. He takes slow, shiftless steps up on to the veranda, but comes to a stand still when Momo is in his peripheral. She’s completely still while staring at the side of his face; he’s certain it’s in concern.

Did she still feel bad for shouting at him earlier? Or was his inner turmoil that obvious? Why did she have to be so concerned with him?

He’s not going to move until he says something, he realises. He shifts his head just enough to see her. “What did Baa-chan say?”

She finally blinks, as if he had broken a spell that froze time. She is slow to answer. “She told me she forgets things too. She can’t remember most of her earlier life in the Soul Society now, and she only has glimpses of memories from her life in the World of the Living.  It’s, um…It’s just part of being a soul. It can’t be stopped, it’ll happen no matter what. The best I can do is draw what I remember while I can still remember it, and write on the back what it’s about.”

A grim acceptance. He should be satisfied with this outcome, but he finds himself getting a little heavier. What had he expected Granny to tell her? The old woman is almost comforting, but she also didn’t sugar-coat things. Had he wanted her to do that for Momo?

The barest smile tilts the corners of her lips. “But my family is still alive, a-and they won’t forget me.  It’s also okay to feel sad about losing my memories, and it’s okay for me to be here and be happy too.”

Toshiro isn’t completely convinced that she feels better, but he can see the exhaustion is starting to hit her, and he finds himself tired as well. “Good, then.”

“She didn’t tell me that last part.” At his confused frown, her smile widens a fraction more, but it’s sombre. “I thought about what you said. I-I don't when I'll completely forget everything, or when I'll stop drawing my memories, but I know it's okay to feel this way about everything. I might be different for a while, but one day, when I've forgotten everything, I hope I can look at these drawings and remember something, even if it's only for a second."

He doesn’t want to tell her that drawings can fade too, or that she may lose her sketchbook one day. "I get it."

He leads her back to the front of the house and pretends he doesn't see the slight falter in her smile. For her sake, he wants to hope too.

[laurent-ofvere]

“@skyline-sunset-in-my-veins So I toootally didn’t spend all day thinking about Laurent getting a letter from Lady Egeria welcoming him into the family…

And I totally didn’t write a fic … except I kinda did. Oops.” 

It felt strange to spend the morning apart from Damen, especially as they were both in the palace with no urgent business to keep them apart. Well not quite, there was of course the most urgent business in all the kingdoms keeping them apart this morning.

  “Exalted, please be still for a moment longer I’m almost done.” One of the ladies, Thia was her name, requested as she gently wove the golden laurels through his long hair.

  Laurent smiled slight at her in apology for fidgeting again. He was unused to someone doing his hair for him, it had been many long years since anyone had done this. Not since his own sweet mother had taken a soft brush to his golden child curls actually. For a moment he let himself wonder what she would have thought of him today. Sitting tall in a garb of finest silk, light and billowy with just a touch of blue as though the fabric had been pulled through the sea and some color clung to it. The fabric was all Akielos but decorations stitched into it were traditional of Vere. A perfect union.

  He wondered is his mother would have liked it. This time the smile was a little sadder and private, he hadn’t known his mother for very long. Though enough to remember her love for him, for little things like the deep blue-violet irises that decorated the lawns at Arles, her love of sweets, for her kingdom.

  “Exalted?” A question now.

  “Yes, what is it?” He asked pulling himself out of the memories slowly. Blinking to see himself in the mirror with Thia at his side and another woman hesitating at the door.

  “Come in.” He said waiting for the servant girls hands to finish their flurry of movement before he turned.

  The woman was older than he first realized, she walked slowly but steadily towards him. “Get her a seat.” He requested.

  She offered him a short bow before sinking down into the seat gratefully. “Forgive me Exalted my youth is far behind me these days.” She said and Laurent waved off her apology. “What’s brought you here today?”

  “I am Leto, Exalted one. Our good Lady Egeria left instructions for this day.” Leto said nodding to the box in her hands. She held it out for Laurent to take.

  He hesitated, surely the woman didn’t mean it to be for him. “Leto are you sure this is not meant Damianos?”

  At that a smile cracked on the old woman and she laughed a little, contagious enough that Laurent felt an echo of it build on his own lips.

  “The King has his own gift from her Ladyship, no this one is for you I am certain.” Leto said holding the box out still.

It was beautiful, done in the old style all carved sea wood, inlaid with pearls. Gently he lifted it open. Under the lid was a single page written in very elegant Akielonian.

  He let himself linger on the long lines of the letter, studying the script, before actually attempting to read it. An unfamiliar word at the beginning gave him pause. He could see it scattered throughout the letter.

  “I’m afraid my linguistics fail me here.” Laurent said showing the old woman the page.

  “Mmm, our Dear Lady wrote this just before her son was born. Her pregnancy was not easy and I think she knew she would not live to see her little one grow. The word is old, like me, not used so much anymore. It means something like “beloved of my child”.” She paused as though studying Laurent for a moment. “It used to be used by mothers greeting those that their sons brought home to wed.”

  Startled and touched Laurent looked at the letter again.

  Beloved-of-my-child,

I wish I could meet you, the one who will bring to my son’s life a new joy. To see the happiness on his face as he leads you into your new home. I do not think this will be so, in my short time I can only hope to wish you all the blessings a mother can.

Beloved-of-my-child, may you always find safety and happiness in your home. May your tied lives bring forth prosperity and joy, may your vows never break or waver. In darkest times may you find in each other a light to lead you on.

I welcome you into this family as a new child of mine. Please take care of my son.

  There was no signature, only a symbol that Laurent had seen carved into the box earlier.

  “Your Majesty?” Thia asked alarmed.

  “I’m alright.” Laurent said but his voice didn’t carry the same message.

  “Let him be child, this is a moment that requires tears sometimes.” Leto said wisely resting a hand on Laurent for a moment, for comfort.

  Two tears escaped before he took a breath and folded the page back to place it back in the box. “Thank you Leto, this was a beautiful gift, you’ve done your Lady a great service bringing this to me today.” He moved to put the box on the table by the mirror.

  “Wait yet.” Leto said. “There is more.” She pulled back the letter and then lifted the velvet in the box to show what was hidden inside it.

  “Stars above.” Thia whispered surprised.

  “It is tradition for a mother to welcome a bride or groom into the family with a gift.” Leto said pulling out the little pin and fastening it properly to the silk of Laurent’s shirt. “I think it would have pleased her to see you wearing this.”

  The pin was a little bird, edged with gold and made of precious sea stones and shells that seemed to ripple like the ocean when it caught the light. “Blue and gold just like you.” Leto mused.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Laurent told her running a finger over the pin gently, reverently.    

  “Do Our Lady a great thanks and say your vows proudly.” Leto suggested standing slowly from her chair.

  Laurent nodded, gesturing for Thia to help her to the door. He seldom had a moment to put the letter back in the little box when a knock sounded from the door.

  “Exalted, it’s time.” Jord called from the door.

The hall of the great Bordeaux border palace was built in a strange but beautiful mix of styles. High white marble columns and decorative arches and windows of colored glass. Damen was already waiting on the other side of the hall, waiting to start his way towards Laurent and meet him in the middle where the sun shone like a beacon through the colored glass staining the floor below in gold and violet.

  As soon as Damen caught sight of him his Kingly composure slipped. There was no way to miss the smile that graced his face, not even when he brought a hand to his face to stop the tears that came with the smile. It was very possible that the only reason that he didn’t run to Laurent at that moment is because Nikandros was there to stop him.

  If ever before this Laurent had ever felt so touched, so loved and wanted he couldn’t quite recall. As soon as they reached each other Damen’s hand came up to take his. The smile so hopelessly enamored it had to be returned, was still there. Before the officiant could even speak the opening words Damen bowed his forehead against Laurent’s.

  “Forgive me I seem to need a moment.” He whispered.

A breathless laugh passed Laurent’s lips and he nodded feeling the same.

“Fortunately it seems that we have exactly what we need.” Laurent whispered back, holding still until Damen pulled back, took his other hand in his own and began the first of their vows.