#but it is DONE

[erlie]

Helluva Love Affair

Playlist that kept me inspired.

Head canons regarding the comic under the cut

I imagine Fizz had very little privacy during his time with Mammon. I imagine him sharing a dorm room with several other clowns, because Mammon is cheap. That's why he is excited about having his own room.

I think Fizz also is not used to being touched with consent. Fans grabbing him, Mammon's staff touching without asking. Just a lot of unwanted hands on him.

Despite being very famous and looking like Fizz had it all, I think Mammon took majority of his earnings and he had very little to use for himself. And that he was in severe debt to Mammon over the prosthetics.

Because Ozzie refers to Fizz as business partner, I imagine Fizz has much bigger role in Ozzie's company just than an MC. I think he is actually the manager of Ozzie's, handling events, special nights, performers etc. He knows how to put up a party!

The "Valentine's Day Gang Bang Night" outfit was definitely just for Ozzie. Fizz got tired of waiting and wanted to well and truly seduce Ozzie.

[lu-is-not-ok]

Everything you need to know from Leviathan

First things first: this is Not a story summary of Leviathan. This is merely a collection of all the pieces of characterization, backstory, and worldbuilding that I believe is or will be relevant in Limbus Company.

I encourage everyone who has finished Library of Ruina (or doesn't care about spoilers to that game) to read Leviathan yourselves, as I will be skipping over most of the actual plot of the novel.

Also, due to the nature of Leviathan as the direct sequel to Library of Ruina, some endgame spoilers to that game will inevitably come up. That being said, I will try my best to keep those spoilers as minimal and vague as possible.

Preamble: Done. Let's get into this. Something something long post warning ahead. It's also kind of chaotic and borderline incomprehensible. If I missed something then, uh, whoops.

Event Timeline:

The end of Library of Ruina directly causes an event dubbed "the first miracle" by some, and "the second passing of White Nights" by others, during which the people killed in the Library would begin returning to the City as if nothing happened.

An orphanage in the Backstreets of District 22 (V Corp's) was at the epicenter of this event, being destroyed in the process and causing the Ring to take interest in the children raised there.

The events of Leviathan follow half a year after this event, and seem to take place over the course of at least a few days. It's as of yet unclear how much time has passed between the end of Leviathan and the beginning of Limbus Company.

Vergilius:

Vergilius comes from District 22 (V Corp's), a Nest filled with wide water canals and boats that make use of them, making it somewhat reminiscent of Venice.

Vergilius used to be the operator of a highly-experienced and skilled Fixer Office. The lowest Grade Fixer at that Office is Grade 3 until a rookie joins them during the events of Leviathan. This Office seems to be dissolved by the end of Leviathan after half of the Fixers working for it die.

Vergilius's title, the Red Gaze, is a stealth pun in Korean. The word used for Gaze is a homophone to the characters used in an epiphet meaning Immortal Poet.

The red eyes Vergilius is named after appear to have a certain kind of aura to them, which causes him to draw attention to himself and be easily recognised. For missions where stealth is involved, Vergilius has a special pair of glasses to make his gaze less recognisable.

Also, Vergilius owns whole-ass calling cards with his Fixer title and a portrait in a Roman-inspired style.

As a Color Fixer, Vergilius is extremely strong and fast, being able to crack the ground underneath his feet when running at full sprint and literally cut through buildings. In fact, Vergilius's body is heavily augmented with artificially woven muscle fibers, which Vergilius compares to hydraullic cylinders and motors in how it feels to use them, though they're not literally mechanical. Despite that level of power, he's noticeably less experienced or skilled than another Color Fixer seen in Leviathan - Iori, the Purple Tear.

Speaking of her, Vergilius appears to know quite a bit about her, including her name, what happened to her in Library of Ruina, and what one of her goals is. She's also implied to have taught Vergilius a technique called Shin that gets introduced later in Leviathan. Also, Iori calls him a junior, implying a difference in either age or experience between the two. Oh, and he also knew Roland.

In addition to knowing those people, Vergilius appears to have also known Carmen before she died. He recognises the nickname Carmen uses for him within the Light as the one she used for him back when they knew each other. Also, back then, Vergilius's weren't as they are now, implying they've known each other before Vergilius was a Color Fixer.

For some time during his work as a Fixer, Vergilius has had the ability to sense "Flow". A fate-like pressure that he sees as trails of shadows and light, pointing him towards a destination he doesn't know. It's a force he notably struggles to resist, only being able to by following dim Flows, rather than the slow but bright Flow. However, doing so merely brings ruin to Vergilius's life, as the dim Flow inevitably guides him back to the slow Flow.

For ten years, Vergilius has been visitting an orphanage in the local Backstreets, donating money and goods and spending time with the children there. He even keeps an old photograph of him with all the orphanage's residents on him.

Before he found the orphanage for the first time however, Vergilius would go on rampages and kill people he believed were contributing to the horrible current state of the City. One of those rampages involved the slaughter of a whole Syndicate, the leader of which was Lapis's father. It's heavily implied that all the children within the orphanage landed there as a direct result of Vergilius's actions.

Vergilius is consistently shown to be stoic and emotionally distant, yet deeply caring underneath his aloof exterior. This is most clearly shown through his relationship with Garnet, the previously mentioned rookie who was raised at the previously mentioned orphanage. Though Vergilius denies Garnet's claims that he raised him, and regularly thinks about how Garnet's sentimentality is going to get him killed, yet he also can't help but feel proud of Garnet in moments where he truly shines, care a lot about Garnet's safety, and feel horrible guilt when he fails to protect him.

Back during his rampaging days, Vergilius is unable to show mercy, with his "attempt" to do so involving giving the last survivor a cut that would let them survive for a few hours, in gratitude for giving him a code to the door. Inversely, current day Vergilius appears to have softened, as his gladius has a heating mechanism that immediately cauterizes the wounds it inflicts. This ensures non-fatal wounds remain not fatal, even if leaving his target alive could cause him issues later on.

Vergilius's motives for taking care of the kids at the orphanage despite being the one who orphaned them are as complex as they are layered. Guilt is clearly a part of that, as Vergilius believes there's no reason for him to see Lapis again when Garnet offers to take him along for his meeting with her. Another part of it might have been Vergilius secretly wishing that one day, one of the kids would realize what he'd done and take their retribution... however it's unclear how "canon" that particular motivation is due to it only being brought up in a vision of a Mirror World. The orphanage was also a reprieve from his former reality filled with wails and begging for mercy. It was a place of warmth, filled with voices of delight waiting for him every time. At the same time, it was a source of hope for him. A place where he could redeem himself, to raise children who could live with the heart he couldn't have, and who could potentially change the City with their virtues alone. All of these motivated Vergilius to cover up and forget about his true goal. One he's been actively burrying during his visits at the orphanage.

That goal? Redacted from the viewer. The first explicitly set up mystery in Leviathan. However, we know that it is directly tied to how Vergilius wishes to change the City.

Vergilius believes that the City is deeply wounded, with its injuries having festered for a long time. He believes that the way to change it is to continue spilling blood, never letting it dry out. To try and pierce through the City's thick shell into its wounded core. When describing the world he wants, he says it's "a world that can only be understood once you feel it with your whole body".

After a talk with Carmen, Vergilius effloresces into his E.G.O, which allows him to wield blood as both a weapon and armor. It also allows him to become one with pools of blood, however he would be unable to leave them if they were to dry while he's inside. However, the usage of his E.G.O is limited by the amount of other people's blood he has available to him. If he were to run out, he'd be forced to use his own, dying painfully in the process.

Also, Vergilius keeps coming up with one-liners when beating people up. It's kinda funny.

At the end of Leviathan, Vergilius is invited into Limbus Company, being promised to give him Lapis (who had been replaced by Charon) and Garnet (who has been reduced to a tiny glowing jewel) back. Thinking back on his past, Vergilius accepts, though the story ends before we get to see the exact terms of his employment.

Charon:

Previously, Charon was known as Lapis, and was one of the kids at the orphanage Vergilius would regularly visit. She was especially close friends with Garnet, who would later become a Fixer and join Vergilius's Office. In fact, Garnet notes how Lapis wouldn't usually open up to anyone but him, and when they did talk she would often talk about Vergilius. She's also noted to not be a fan of studying.

Lapis ended up at the orphanage after Vergilius killed her father during his slaughter of the Syndicate he led. While we don't get to know much about her father, we do know he cared deeply for her, to the point his last words were calling out her name.

In a flashback to her childhood, we learn that Lapis would always suck on bitter candy as she's able to preserve it and suckle on it little by little, whereas sweet things melt away much sooner. She follows this anecdote of hers up by revealing her wish to "try all the flavors in the world" when she grows up.

After aging out of the orphanage, Lapis got a job at a fruit-harvesting company. During the events of Leviathan, Lapis has decided to meet up with Garnet at a private location. However, the area turned out be occupied by Syndicate members, including that of the Ring, and Lapis was kidnapped to be used in the Ring's experiments with Mirror World technology.

At the end of Leviathan, Lapis turned out to be the only of the "gems" to have survived the experiments. However, she did so because she was the only successful one. Her former identity was completely erased, replaced by that of Charon. Initially, Vergilius is hesitant to make contact with her, feeling like keeping his distant will save both of them from pain. However, he relents when Charon finds a still living piece of the jewel Garnet had turned into.

Gubo:

Gubo is one of the researchers at N Corp, and during the events of Leviathan he comes to an auction held by the Ring for the sole purpose of gaining access to their Corridor and retrieving Aseah.

His connections to a Wing allow him to casually bid 10 billion Ahn like it's nothing. Gubo is also notably frustrated when the auctioneer appears to be breaking their own rules, trying to convince them that doing so would put their gallery in ill repute.

To enter the Corridor despite his failure at the auction, Gubo is willing to sacrifice the lives of the people that had accompanied. Notably, Vergilius is able to tell that Gubo did no fighting himself due to his appearance, reckoning he merely hid while others fought in his stead.

Gubo is someone who's willing to keep himself calm and composed regardless of the situation. He's constantly calculating ways to reach his goal, willing to do anything and pay any price to do so. However, that composure is said to reflect insecurity, obsession, and yearning. He is shown to take some ridiculous risks in pursuit of his goals, attempting to attack Vergilius twice despite being clearly outmatched against a fucking Color.

Despite N Corp being at potential odds with the Ring, due to them kidnapping Aseah, Gubo doesn't act hostile towards the Ring's members outside of getting rid of those who were directly standing in his way.

Aseah:

During Leviathan, Aseah is the main researcher working on the Mirror World technology for the Ring. He's specifically working on modifying and tuning an invention made by Young-Ji, the Glass Window.

By that point in time, Aseah had already joined N Corp, however the Ring kidnapped him to use his knowledge for their own gain. Despite such seemingly dire circumstances, Aseah does not seem bothered to be working for the Ring in the slightest.

Aseah is a cold and usually emotionless individual who only cares about his research. In fact, he only ever shows emotions, specifically passion, when realizing he's made a breakthrough or describing how the technology he's researching works. He's easily swayed to risk other people's lives for the sake of pushing his research even further.

One of this main motives for using the Glass Window is to create a Singularity to surpass Yi Sang's creation, as well as any other competing technology of this kind. Despite his self-imposed rivalry with Yi Sang, Aseah still calls him a friend.

At the end of Leviathan, Aseah is successfully retrieved by Gubo . However, a question is posed: for both to get back out of the Corridor, Aseah must be able to know how to navigate it. If that's the case and he could have escaped this whole time, why didn't he? He must have had reasons to not fly away, even though his cage was wide open. Add that to the mystery counter.

Limbus Company:

Limbus Company shows up at the very end of Leviathan, being a new enough Company for Vergilius to have never heard of them before.

A Special Operations Team from a department called LCA raids the Ring's lab, specifically searching for Vergilius. A woman with hair that seems white from far away, but appears graysih close up, approaches him. This is revealed to be Faust, and she's the one who gives Vergilius an offer.

Work for Limbus Company, and we can bring Lapis and Garnet back.

The Ring:

The Ring are a Syndicate that are said to only believe what they see with their own eyes, and are dedicated to the creation and display of various types of art. They also hold auctions for various pieces.

Some of the Ring's art falls within our understanding of it, such as paintings and sculptures. A large amount of it however includes acts of extreme violence or otherwise cruel behavior.

Many of the lower-ranking members of the Ring and Backstreets residents under their protection are considered to be akin to students, being graded on their pieces and taking art exams. While the Ring does allow resits on their exams, flunking too many times will result in death. In such an environment, a lack of inspiration causes people to have mental breakdowns.

As far as we've seen, the Ring hold two different types of art galleries, which I'll refer to as Syndicate-facing and Public-facing respectively.

Syndicate-facing art galleries are structured more like schools, complete with classrooms and suspicious "art" exhibits within the halls. One of those exhibits we see are "statues" of people with animal heads. However, these statues are actually sill living people that are forced to stay completely still under the threat of violence, or "scolding". Oh, and those people also had their mouths and ears sewn shut. This particular exhibition is revealed to be a part of a test that the Ring was holding that night.

Public-facing art galleries look more akin to modern art galleries we'd see in our world, and their lower floors are accessible to pretty much any public person. These floors are filled with more standard types of art, like paintings and sculptures. The top floor of these galleries is considered the VIP floor, where auctions are held and the true disturbing nature of the Ring is shown to the guests there.

During the auctions, every participant has a veil put over their head, and they are to bow in respect when the one holding the auction enters the stage. The art pieces sold on these auctions can be anything from paintings of real slaughters that took place in the City, to objects made out of or containing pieces of actual people, to straight up dancers stuck eternally dancing in glass stages in which time flows slower. Additionally, the person who wins the bid on the "meister's most cherished work" will be allowed into the Ring's Corridor.

At the time of Leviathan's events, the Ring not only has access to the Corridor, but also Mirror World technology in the form of the Glass Window.

A secret research lab was kept hidden within one such Corridor, where the Ring would test Mirror World technology on "gems" - young people who came from the orphanage at the epicenter of the Miracle. These experiments involved these people experiencing many Mirror Worlds at once within their mind, with those people physically shattering if pushed too far.

The Ring's goal with their research of the Mirror Worlds is to open as many Rifts to as many of them as possible, with one of the high-ranking Ring members saying they wish to open ten thousand rifts at minimum.

This plan appears to be thwarted by the end of Leviathan. It's vaguely implied that N Corp and/or Limbus Company seized the tech in the Ring's possession, leaving it unclear if the Ring still has access to it currently.

Over the course of Leviathan, we learn of two different high positions within the Ring: Docents and Maestros. Each can be identified by the kind of ring they wear on their ring fingers. Also, all of the ones we've seen thus far are gender non-conforming as fuck.

Docents are responsible for taking care of and monitoring the art galleries. Notably, they are responsible for guiding guests and giving lectures on the lower floors of their public-facing galleries. These lectures appear to involve explaining the ideals of their Maestros. Docents wear two-coiled rings that extends down the top of their hands and coils around their wrists.

Maestros are responsible for holding the auctions and appear to have a high amount of control over the Ring's actions. They wear three-coiled rings. They also notably act a lot more according to what they believe is true art, as opposed to the Docents who can still be swayed by money and social standard. As an example, Maestro Jumsoon decides to give his most prized artpiece not to the person bidding billions of Ahn, but to the person who convinces him they can complete the piece due to being personally involved in what it represents.

N Corp:

The physical location of the Ring's secret lab appears to be within N Corp's District. However, due to its entry point being connected to the Corridor, it's unable to be accessed from outside the Corridor.

One of N Corp's main source of income and culture are so-called suicide vending machines, or vending machines that dispense canned experiences that specifically allow a person to experience suicide. This bit of technology is considered both amazing and condemnable, and is said to be one of the main reasons people move to N Corp's Nest.

N Corp Taboos are upheld vehemently. Recorded footage of that secret lab, even without knowing it's located in N Corp, would result in Taboo Hunters being sent out over the breaking of the Nest filming taboo. They are highly efficient, going after everyone who had seen the recording before finally retrieving the footage.

M Corp:

M Corp's full name is MDM Enterprise. In Leviathan, we see M Corp do business with the Ring through delivering their product to them - an entire moonlight stone.

A moonlight stone delivered in a massive box filled with a flesh-like cushion around the stone. Opening the box requires using an unlocking mechanism composed of multiple various levers. Everyone present in the same room as the box during its opening are required to wear ear plugs, while those actually opening it also require airway protection. Upon being pulled open, the stone needs to be cut out of the flesh cushion using a knife.

If sufficient ear protection is not worn during this process, the sound the stone emits while being forced out of its container will cause all that hear it to experience a "wave of hiraeth". This is shown as a sort of dissociative state where the person rambles about the ocean being their home and family, and how they need to return to it.

The moonlight stones themselves appear similar in shape to large pearls. The Ring appears to use them by putting them in translucent containers, where the stone is attached to multiple electrodes and tubes for a yet unclear purpose.

The Light:

After the second passing of White Nights, people would begin transforming into forms similar to cocoons or eggs. This happens when a person becomes aware of how unbearable the world around them is, causing them to retreat from reality.

When seperated from their bodies, people establish their... Redacted. Yet another mystery. However, it's implied to be something along the lines of the ideal world they wish to create, or the dream they wish to make true. If they manage to set this Redacted and endure the process, they can be born anew as a Distortion (or potentially with Effloresced E.G.O). If they can't their bodies are seized by their sins, resulting in the creation of a Peccatulum.

This process is pointed out as being different to the process of Distorting that we're used to seeing, though it's not yet unclear to what extent.

The inside of the Light as utter stillness, shimmering as if somethered in light. When someone is inside the Light, Carmen attempts to guide them towards a specific conclusion, acting kind and trying to absolve them of any guilt over their actions, while showing an utter lack of pity or genuine feeling. She's able to see past the facades people put up, directly looking into what they have been through. She uses that knowledge to direct people towards realizing their true desires and wishes.

Carmen is able to meet and talk with people whose hearts "crack". Who are too overwhelmed with their emotions in the moment. When she discovers a person's true wish has been buried and hidden away, she acts as if the act is so painful that it hurts her by proxy. She uses this opportunity to offer these people the power to create they consider right, one only for their own eyes.

She claims that she's helping everyone paint the City with their own colors, much like the Light, in which all colors perfectly blend together. When it's pointed out to her that doing so would be impossible, due to everyone's colors being different and thus it being impossible for them all to exist together in perfect harmony, Carmen responds by saying everyone should be dedicated to protecting and fighting for the sake of their own world, even if it means fighting the entire world itself.

Carmen describes the process of Distorting or Efflorescing E.G.O as becoming a "self unbound by the eyes and standards of the City", with Carmen attributing the latter to being Ayin's idea. Carmen says that she believes the final destination of everyone's ambitions is Love, specifically unconditional Love towards oneself, as the only person that can truly understand and love them is themself. This is where Carmen and Ayin come into conflict. Ayin believes people should be able fight using clothes and tools, holding the human form in high regard. Carmen, on the other hand, sees that as unnecessary moderation, and argues one should express their love through their body, so that it and their heart can become one.

Effectively, Carmen is trying to guide people to only caring about themselves and their desires, disregarding everything around them. She does so through a "friendly, yet ruthless pressure", by offering the seemingly perfect solution of absolute self-love at the cost of being blind to one's reality. She knows what the "right" choice is, and will be disappointed if one were to choose the other option, but she won't stop anyone from pursuing their desires even if their way is different from what she's envisioned.

...There is a purpose to it all. A goal Carmen has for herself. After all, she's a person too. It's another bit of information that's redacted, setting it up as yet another mystery, but we do have a hint towards what it could be. Somehow, a person who was given power by Carmen failing to fight for their wish appears to contribute towards Carmen's personal purpose.

Speaking of that, Leviathan reveals another, more violent way to defeat a Distortion. By proving the fundamentals of a Distortion's beliefs wrong, by breaking the foundation upon which their wish was built, the Distortion begins to fall apart. With nothing left to its form but vague concepts, an Abnormality is born, tearing out of the Distorted person's body and killing them instantly.

Peccatulae:

The Peccatulae are the result of the process enabled by the second passing of White Nights, in which a person retreats into a cocoon-like form upon finding the world too unbearable and faces an ordeal within. If the person fails the ordeal by not being able to find a wish for which's sake to return to their world, their body is left to be fed on by their sins. This results in their bodies transforming into manifestations of those sins - the Peccatulae. Once this transformation takes place, it cannot be reversed.

Peccatulae are not Distortions, as they are what happens when one lacks the strong desire needed to either Distort or Effloresce E.G.O. They are also not Abnormalities, as unlike them the Peccatulae can be killed.

The Peccatulae visually lack any humanity they may have had before the transformation. At the same time though, the cries they let out are compared to that of humans burdened by life, by the sin of bearing sin.

Those cries are also seemingly able to affect one's mind, causing memories associated with the Peccatulum's Sin Affinity to resurface.

The Glass Window:

The Glass Window is a piece of technology created by Young-Ji, which was co-opted by Aseah and studied by the Ring. This technology is considered to be a Singularity by Wings and Grade 1 Fixers.

The main function of the Glass Window is superimposing Mirror Worlds onto whatever is viewed through it, though in a blurry state. It's noted to be less stable than Yi Sang's Mirror technology, but in exchange it's capable of superimposing a much larger number of Worls at the same time.

The amount of Mirror Worlds and their intensity can be controlled through modifying the Glass Window's Refraction Rate. A higher Refraction Rate allows more overlayed Worlds to stack, at the cost of "yielding more of one's heart to the Glass Window".

Surviving high Refraction Rates without physically shattering involves attaining focus - a process involving perishing one's heart without killing it.

Most weapons cannot damage the Glass Window.

The Corridor:

The Corridor is a piece of technology that the Ring owns during the events of Leviathan. It's a liminal, seemingly-infinite space that can connect to places all over the City. As long as the area they wish to link has an exit, a matching entrance will appear within the Corridor.

Many of the doors within the Corridor are locked using mental locks, to be able to enter them one needs to think specific mental keywords as they attempt to open the door.

Inside the Corridor itself, electronics such as video recorders and ear pieces appear to malfunction.

Despite the Corridor being a mostly linear space, the complex and intricate rules by which its passages connect make it more than possible to get lost within. As such, navigating the Corridor is usually done when accompanied by a guide.

To navigate the Corridor by oneself, one needs to always remember two things - their starting point, and their destination. Knowing those two points will allow one to be able to find their way by feeling which directions to take. This is due to a phenomenon called Reversion of Causality, a phenomenon which some Singularities take advantage of as well.

Breaking through a wall in the Corridor leads to a massive hall made of constantly shifting purposeless surfaces lined within even more purposeless doors. Staying within this outer hall is dangerous, as one would become stuck here if the doors within the Corridor reassembled themselves.

Shin and Mang:

Shin is a technique Vergilius learned from (who's implied to be) the Purple Tear. Shin involves completely relinquishing the control of one's body to one's mind, specifically one's memories and the feelings associated with them. When Shin is used, it causes glowing rings to appear around the weapon (or body part if weaponless) one is using to fight. The glow of these rings is constantly emphasized to be that of the moon.

Vergilius describes Shin as "the power of Light", and "the power of sin".

To use Shin, one needs Mang (referred to as luna/lunae when not a proper noun), often multiple of them. Using Mang is described as filling onces emptied minds with dense and heavy memories, then letting the lunae of these recalled feelings guide one's movements.

Random Miscellanous Bits of Info:

It's a tradition in District 8 (H Corp's) to gift apples on Christmas Eve, to wish the giftee a peaceful night.

Cellphones in the City seem to be at a stage in-between Iphones and slightly older smartphones. The screen only takes up roughly half of the phone, but it appears to be a touchscreen due to the lack of mechanical buttons.

Related to that, payphones also exist in the City. The District the payphone is in gets shown to the one recieving a call from one.

The Seven Association holds seminars for new and aspiring Fixers that teaches them the basics, such as information about major Syndicates, Singularities, spatial awareness, etc. The Seven Association also holds Fixer qualification tests.

Higher education is something one can pursue in the City.

There are still video recorders that use videotapes in the City.

Cognition-warping ID Cards are a thing within the City. However, they are noted to only be useful for brief deception.

One of the canonical Mirror Worlds is literally our world.

Airplanes don't exist in the City.

[violinist-rachel]

"...Zzz...."

[dualcosmog]

0259 Marshtomp

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

“Sloppy,” Azriel crooned, his knee pushed against her chest. Gwyn groaned, kicking out her leg to sweep him against the ground. Azriel grunted, his body toppling sideways before thudding to the ground so hard the world seemed to shake. Breathless, Gwyn scrambled upward, straddling his hips to press a knife against his throat.

“Your move, shadowsinger.”

It took him no effort at all to flip their position, causing her to cut a thin line against his throat. Gwyn gasped while little droplets of blood fell across her cheek. He merely watched, eyes tracking the moment before pulling himself off her.

“No hesitating next time.”

Gwyn sighed, ribs creaking from the effort it took to right herself. “You could have died, you know.”

He only shrugged. “Maybe…if you didn’t hesitate every time you brought the knife to my throat.”

“I’m starting to think you want me to kill you.”

Azriel leveled a stare in her direction. “I want you to believe you could kill me. You know the right moves, but when it comes time to actually following through, you stop short. Why?”

Gwyn looked away. “I’m working on it. Like you were a natural born killer your first day, anyway.”

“I was.”

And Gwyn believed that. The High Lord’s former pet had likely killed many people without flinching. “It was never hard?”

Azriel brushed his hands on his knees, clad in that thick, heavy leather armor. Seven cobalt siphons gleamed in the gloom, harnessing whatever killing power he’d been born with. Turning those hazel eyes back to her, Azriel murmured, “No. This is what I was born to do.”

“I don’t think that's true for me,” she admitted. Gwyn had never said that to anyone, let alone Azriel who…well, Gwyn wasn’t sure what Azriel was to her anymore. Not really a friend, but not exactly a lover, either. Still, he was accumulating her secrets at a rapid rate, and she’d touched his cock two nights before.

They weren’t speaking about either of those things. Even after the follow up conversation where they’d laid out ground rules for continuing in the future, Azriel had been perfectly normal the next morning and Gwyn hadn’t been willing to ask him what was going on. Nor did she dare to make any kind of move, despite her curiosity. Gwyn had read plenty—enough to know everything he could likely do to her. Back then, it had felt like revolution to find enjoyment, to find her body still reacted with pleasure and not fear or revulsion. And the night before, with her hand stroking his cock and wing, well…

She’d slid her fingers beneath the bedsheets when he’d finally retreated back behind a closed door and let herself imagine what he might do the next time they were alone. Gwyn had several scenarios she favored—all of them dashed when Azriel repeatedly slammed her to the ground, knife at her throat.

She ought to have known nothing would change between them. 

“What do you think you were supposed to do?” Azriel questioned, dragging her back to the present. Right—they were still talking. If Azriel noticed she’d left him for a moment, lost in thought, he didn’t betray it. Nor did he ask what she’d been thinking about, though there was a curious gleam in his hazel eyes. 

Gwyn shrugged. “I don’t know anymore.”

That was the hard and horrible truth. She had her ambition, her desire to outdo even Merrill in the library, to rise the ranks of the Night Court scholars and maybe, one day, even give Day Court a little competition. But sometimes, if she was honest with herself, it felt more like a distraction than a true calling.

She’d once thought being a priestess was her passion. It had been her passion, and Hybern had stolen that from her. “What if—” Gwyn cut herself off as Azriel began to turn, positioning himself for another drill she would undoubtedly lose. 

“Yes?” he asked when she didn’t speak for a minute, loosening his shoulders ever so slightly.

“What if we’re more than just…killing and research?”

Azriel’s brow furrowed. “What would we be without those things?”

Gwyn didn’t know and admitted as such, shaking her head. Still, she took a step toward him, because she was certain they must be more than just their jobs. “Don’t you think, though?”

“No.”

Of course he didn’t. Azriel was old, set in his ways. He wasn’t going to be of any use to her on this. Sighing, Gwyn went for her dagger. She’d have to figure it out on her own, which was fine, but also a little disappointing.

In front of her, Azriel hesitated. Gwyn raised her weapon, expecting him to strike. Shadows gathered in his eyes, blinked away after a moment. “Without…without my work, what use am I to anyone?”

Silence rang between them, loud enough to drown out the sound of the ocean just below. Azriel held Gwyn’s stare, their hearts synced against as one. The horrible truth of his words settled in her stomach because Gwyn felt the exact same way. If she wasn’t doing something that contributed to her home, her friends, then why would they want her around at all? They’d replace her—she just knew they would. Emerie and Nesta would turn away if they knew how rotting her insides felt, disgusted they’d ever allowed her in their presence in the first place. 

That was her. Azriel was the right hand of the High Lord. She’d heard the way Cassian spoke of him—closer than brothers, by the sound of it. Rhysand, too, looked at Azriel with a mixture of admiration and affection. Their friendship was unquestioned in Gwyn’s mind. A family, but more. Surely he must know they loved him.

But standing there, Gwyn could see that same hollow darkness that so often threatened to swallow her. If Azriel, after five hundred years of living, couldn’t find value in himself outside of his skills, then what hope was there for her? 

Swallowing hard, Gwyn forced herself to say something. He’d made himself momentarily vulnerable, and she suspected if she turned him away, he’d shut down forever. He was the only friend she had out here—she didn’t want to go back to the distant silence that plagued them when they first arrived. 

“I feel the same way,” she choked out, hating the way those words felt like acid on her tongue. Azriel didn’t move for a moment, cocking his head. The emptiness vanished, replaced by cool assessment. The moment had passed—they wouldn’t speak of it again. At least, not for now.

“Weapon up,” he ordered. And for once, Gwyn was perfectly happy to do exactly as he asked. 

It was far later in the evening, wrapping things up with Kai, when Azriel returned to her. Stalking in like a cat, he dropped gracefully into his usual chair. Was he aware he was rescuing her—again—from Kai’s frustrating line of questioning? 

“Do they, though?” Kai pressed, ignoring Azriel’s presence like he always did. Gwyn wanted to scream. 

“Of course females still raise children in Prythian,” she gritted out. Did he imagine their females just popping out babies wherever they happened to be standing, only to abandon them to the wilds? More frustrating, still, was Kai's subtle attempt to prove that what Gwyn was doing here was unnatural for females. 

“All of them?”

“Males help,” Azriel interjected, his tone exceptionally bored. Pulling out his dagger, he added, “The High Lord takes an exceptionally active role raising his son.”

Gwyn sighed softly, relieved for Azriel’s help. Kai’s expression became pinched, clearly frustrated he’d been thwarted. 

“And his consort—

“His wife is High Lady,” Gwyn said softly, delighted to see this was a piece of information Kai was wholly unaware of. Was it wise to tell him that? Maybe it didn’t matter, because when her eyes flickered to Azriel, she could see he was weighing his options—violence or not, wholly dependent on if Kai insulted Feyre Archeron. 

He wasn’t stupid, offering a soft, “Ah.”

That was all they were given. Kai excused himself not long after, asking Gwyn specifically to join him at dinner before swanning out without even a look in Azriel’s direction. Slumping in her chair, Gwyn put her forehead against the page of her book. How much longer did she even have here? A week? A month?

Forever?

Gwyn intended to close her book and plod back to her bedroom where she could at least work on her cypher when something buzzed between her legs. Starting, Gwyn slammed her knee beneath the table so hard a nearby goblet clattered to the floor.

Azriel glanced over, arching a brow. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice dark and silky.

“Fine,” she said breathlessly. What was that? 

Gwyn exhaled softly as Azriel went back to staring at the wall, drumming his fingers against his knee. She just needed to calm her racing heart, she told herself. Just need—

The soft buzzing returned, pressed so closely against her body it was like someone was humming. Arousal spiked through her even as she yelped again. This time, Azriel smiled, even as he kept his eyes on the far wall.

“Are you doing this?” she demanded breathlessly.

“Sit back down, Gwyn.” Gwyn remained on her feet, openly defying his soft, authoritative words. He couldn’t tell her what to do. She’d stand here until he…until he what? Apologized? She couldn’t picture Azriel atoning for anything, let alone trying to get her off.

Especially when the soft buzzing returned, causing Gwyn to lurch for the table. 

“Why don’t you make it easy on me,” Azriel murmured, turning those hazel eyes fully on her, “and spread your legs open real wide.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she gasped, because this time he didn’t stop, even when she collapsed back into her chair.

“You have no idea how much I would,” he agreed with a dark chuckle. 

“Az—”

“Lean back, Gwyn,” he urged, not moving from his chair. She wanted to, too. The touch on her clit had shifted from polite buzzing to exploratory caressing—like a mouth gently blowing air while soft fingers caressed every inch of skin between her legs. Gwyn squirmed, though she did spread herself open just a little wider. He couldn’t see her beneath the table and wondered what he would have done if she’d propped herself up on the table so he could see.

Gwyn could almost imagine it. She could see herself climbing atop the wood and lifting her skirts. His eyes might sharpen, his grip tightening against his own chair while he shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his rather nice black trousers. 

“That's it,” Azriel murmured in real life, though it could have been her fantasy. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You didn’t,” she gasped, heat flooding her cheeks.

“I thought it was obvious what I was thinking about,” Azriel replied casually, shifting in his chair just the way she imagined. Stop looking at him. Think about someone else. 

But Gwyn couldn’t drag her eyes off him. Darkness oozed out of him, and all she wanted right in that moment, was to crawl into his lap and demand he actually touch her. 

She didn’t think she was brave enough for it. 

“Tell me,” Gwyn asked, arching her neck when his touching became more precise, firmer as he narrowed in what he wanted—to make her come. Gwyn wanted that too. Scooting back from the table, she propped her heel up on the edge of the chair, pleased when her dress hid her from view. Azriel sat up to look with a kind of animalistic hunger that should have scared her.

It thrilled her. Just a little, she lied to herself. Just while he was touching her.

“Your hand was wrapped around my cock,” Azriel reminded her, his own voice deeper than she remembered. The scent of arousal was flooding the air—not just hers, but the salt edged musk of his own. 

“But before that—”

“I was thinking about my hand in your hair, wrapped around my wrist,” he interrupted. “I was thinking about your back arched while I fucked you into the mattress.”

Oh. 

“I think you’d like it,” he added, unaware that Gwyn was currently unspooling in the chair she sat in. Her hips bucked involuntarily which only served to heighten the pleasure he was drawing from her with expert precision. 

“Azriel,” she whispered, gripping the edge of her chair as her legs began to tremble.

“Let go, Gwyn,” he replied—it was an order. Their eyes met as the invisible touch between her legs picked up, turning to a pleasant combination of buzzing and sucking. “Come for me.”

She wanted to. Telling herself to close her eyes, Gwyn merely watched as Azriel leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his muscular knees. His eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen him, though the rest of his face seemed half hidden in shadow. He was more monster than male, fingers curled to fists so tight she  could see the whites of his knuckles. 

“Please, Azriel—”

The touch expanded, caressing and teasing over every inch of skin. It was too much. Gwyn clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming just as Azriel lunged, slamming to the ground so roughly the overhead chandelier shook violently. Making his fantasy a reality, Azriel gripped her by the back of her head, fingers twisting the strands of her hair.

“Next time it’ll be my mouth,” he panted, his lips mere inches from her own. It was like he needed to physically breathe the same air as her while she came. Gwyn couldn’t stop herself from pushing a palm against his chest, not to shove him away, but to brace herself as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

She’d touched herself before. She knew how it felt.

It was nothing in comparison. 

Pressing his forehead to her own, Azriel remained kneeled beside her, eyes closed while he waited for her to go limp. The touching between her legs vanished, leaving her oddly bereft. It was only then that Azriel let her go, flexing his fingers as he rose to his feet. 

“We should go,” he said, looking toward the door as if he’d just realized anyone might have walked in on them. 

Drawing breath, Gwyn agreed. She wanted to reach for him, to steady herself against his solid strength.

She didn’t, though.

AZRIEL:

“Helion had no idea how to solve the translation plaguing Gwyn,” Rhysand began, standing in plain view bathed in a beam of moonlight. No one would see him—not unless Rhysand willed it. Azriel understood the High Lord had cast one of Helion’s shields around them, while also using his daemati power to keep from anyone realizing what they were looking at.

Anyone peering into the night would merely see Azriel, hands folded behind his back as he stared out at the sea. Not that anyone would, given he and Rhys had chosen to meet on the same island Azriel and Gwyn used for training. 

Azriel nodded. “She’s created a cypher. Once it's completed, I’ll have it sent to you and begin writing in code.”

“I didn’t allow Helion to keep the page,” Rhys told Azriel wryly. “He’s probably going to try and get one of his scholars out here, so tell Gwyn to move quickly.”

Azriel bristled, though he nodded his head all the same. “How are things at home?”

Rhys sighed. “The same. Beron is still in Autumn, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It was. Azriel nodded once, glancing behind him at the palace in the distance. For now, everyone was safe and things were going as planned. Azriel had to admit that being here with Gwyn wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened.

Better than Vanserra, at any rate.

It was tempting to tell Rhys to tell Feyre he missed her and ask after the baby. He didn’t, and Rhys didn’t push, though he did tell Azriel a quick, amusing story about Nyx accidentally escaping a window and the morning he and Cassian had spent trying to get him back before Feyre realized her toddler was missing.

Azriel was smiling faintly by the time Rhys stepped back, rolling his neck against his shoulders. “Az?”

Azriel looked up, surprised Rhys had spoken his name. “Yes?”

“Do I want to know what’s going on here?”

Azriel frowned. “What do you mean? I’ve told you—”

“You’re drenched in sex.”

Ah. 

Azriel didn’t react. “New places, new faces.”

Rhys smirked. “Oh? Is that what Gwyneth is, then?”

Azriel took a step back. “In my head?”

“I don’t need to be in your head to read your distraction, brother. It’s practically oozing out of you. I don’t care what you do, but take care not to let anyone else know.”

“It’s nothing,” Azriel lied. “Just close proximity.” Rhys’s lip curled, reading the lie for what it was. “I used to tell myself the same damn thing.”

And then he was gone, leaving Azriel standing in the dark feeling stupid. What happened between Rhys and Feyre and whatever was going on between him and Gwyn were wholly separate things. Azriel shoved the thought from his mind entirely, refusing to dwell on it a second longer. Rhys loved to meddle and now that Cassian was mated and well on his way to being married, Azriel supposed he was next.

With his track record, Rhys sure had his work cut out for him. 

Leaping in the air, Azriel made his way back to the palace just in time to find King Gareth standing in the very courtyard Azriel slammed into. The king could have been any other male right then, head inclined toward the star freckled sky. 

The man looked over at Azriel, expression etched with something akin to yearning. “My wife loved these kinds of nights,” he told Azriel casually, as if Azriel cared. Still, it was information, wasn’t it? And something about him often made people want to confess the worst of their sins.

He stepped closer, tucking his wings tight against his body while one shadow slid between his shoulder blade to watch. 

“Sometimes I wonder why…” Gareth trailed off, turning back to the sky. Azriel waited for more, but the king went still, eyes unfocused as he watched a silvery cloud pass overhead. With a respectful bow, Azriel left the king—and one of his shadows—to head up to bed. 

Gwyn was nowhere to be found, her door closed tight. It was tempting to fling it open like she’d done just two nights before, though Azriel supposed that was one double standard that ought to remain. 

He could smell the scent of soap in the air, floral and sweet and so Gwyn it made his teeth ache. Retreating to his own bathing chamber, Azriel spent more time rubbing his cock than he did actually cleaning his skin. This was madness, he told himself. It wasn’t Gwyn so much as the eerie atmosphere of Montessere and the secrets that swirled around him like shadow. 

She was merely a bi-product of it all. Absently, drying himself off, he wondered if he wouldn’t be doing a better job at keeping distance if they’d been sent somewhere else. 

He’d almost convinced himself that was true until her door opened. Gwyn stepped out in a thin purple nightdress clinging to her lithe frame. Damp hair framed her flushed face as steam—and his shadows—curled around her. The scent of her slammed into his chest, physically knocking him back, not that she noticed.

“I did it,” she said breathlessly, slamming a piece of paper to the table. “Look at this.”

Cauldron damn him, but he was trying. She was so fucking beautiful it was messing with him, and so utterly oblivious that Azriel wanted to tell her. 

He walked over to her which felt like a massive mistake given the way his body was reacting. The urge to pick her up and put her in his bed—to keep her there, guarding her jealously until no one ever spoke her name again without his permission—reared its ugly head. He had to fist his hands at his sides to keep from touching her.

“It’s done?” he asked, grateful he at least sounded normal. The Mother above knew he didn’t feel like it. 

“Yes,” Gwyn said, looking up at him with no awareness of just how close they were. How he could have reached for her face and kissed her, if he’d wanted.

And he did.

So fucking badly it made his teeth ache. “It took me a little while because I accidentally confused th for ch, but I think I have it, now. I tried translating a page—it’s just the author's note, so nothing exciting, and it makes sense. Look, it reads, To Aurelia, my beloved. Gone too soon, but never forgotten in this life, and every life that comes after.”

“Nice,” he said, heart pounding in his throat. “Who is Aurelia?”

Gwyn only shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe no one important. What matters is we know what he said! Isn’t that exciting?”

“So you can translate the entire book?”

“And every other book in the city library. Their priests let me flip through them because they don’t think I understand them. Azriel, there is so much we could learn, now. Things we’ve never understood about our creation, about the world before Gwydion…” Her sparkling eyes tempered some of his lust, though only barely. 

“You’ll buy me time, won’t you?” she asked. It was so nice not to be on the receiving end of her ire that Azriel nodded his head. He would have stabbed himself in the stomach right then and there if she’d looked up at him with that hopeful expression.

Pink, parted lips erupted in a truly beautiful smile and Azriel was utterly ruined. He didn’t know what to do, staring down at her like she was the first female he’d ever laid eyes on. “Yes.” He felt stupid, because he felt like he should say more. 

She didn’t even notice, stepping around him with the paper clutched to her chest which he absolutely wasn’t staring at. “If I can do this, Az, I…”

He waited, but Gwyn seemed to realize who she was talking to. Some of the light winked out of her expression as she turned to look back at him, guard up. Don’t do that, he wanted to beg, but once again the words wouldn’t come out. Don’t shut me out. 

“Well. I should probably start.”

Azriel only nodded, watching as she slipped back into her bedroom. The door clicked shut quietly just as his last unoccupied shadow danced after her, whispering words of soft encouragement. 

Merrill fired her.

Had she told him that? Wracking his brain, Azriel could find no memory of that information. He supposed that explained her single-minded determination to find something in Montessere, and her frustration when Azriel had suggested she make it more widely available. If the High Lord took over her cypher, what did she have? 

Nothing.

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling like an asshole. “Fuck.”

Not that there was anything he could do from here—or Velaris, truthfully. It wasn’t as if he could march into the library and demand Merrill treat Gwyn better. Not if he didn’t want Rhysand to hand his ass to him, at any rate. That space was sacred, and he was a guest that could be removed at any time, for any reason.

She wanted time? Azriel could give her that, at least. He still had his mystery and truth be told, he hadn’t been working too terribly hard on unraveling it. Maybe, he reasoned, it was time to try a little harder. Push Kai a bit, wander over to Rask and Vallahalla so his shadows could spend a week living in the rafters listening to every private conversation their monarchs didn’t want people to know.

That would all take him time. And after that, well…Azriel considered himself quite skilled at turning relatively normal circumstances into disaster if necessary.

Resolved, he went to Gwyn’s door and knocked softly.

“Come in,” she called.

His brain short circuited at the sight of her face down on the bed, propped on her elbows with her cypher and a book spread in front of her. Strands of coppery brown hair fell over her shoulders and down her back, while her breasts were just smushed enough he could imagine how they’d look pressed against his chest. 

“I’m going to be gone for a few days,” he told her, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed against his chest. “Buying you time. Keep out of trouble…and practice your wrist work. I’ll be expecting a challenge when I return.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes, but asked, “Where are you going?”

He hesitated. It was probably better she didn’t know, just in case. “I’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“You’ll be safe, at least?” she asked him. Azriel sucked in a soft breath.

“Yes.”

“I can’t challenge you if you’re dead, you know.”

He couldn’t help his smile, though he tried to bite it back. “I won’t disappoint you.”

She turned back to her book. “See that you don’t, shadowsinger.”

“Dream of me while I’m gone,” he added, unable to help himself. Gwyn looked up sharply just in time for Azriel to drag his hand down his bare chest, stopping just at the waistband of his pants. “And if you find yourself missing me terribly, go ahead and make a mess of my bedsheets, too.”

“You’re disgusting,” she said, cheeks stained red. He could scent her interest, though, underneath her ladylike outrage. 

“You have no idea,” he promised, turning on a high note. 

If nothing else, the thought of her fucking herself in his bed would get him through the next few days.

You’ll be safe?

Azriel tucked those words deep into his chest, letting them live where only he could hear them.

He was starting to believe he'd do anything she asked.

[badvibesinthechat]

Slight flash warning because of the staff

Also this took so much longer to make than I am proud of

[crownomancer]

XI - Justice - Jane Roland

Balance, Truth, Law, Cause and Effect, Honesty

[see card analysis here]

Ko-fi

[marikodraws]

OH MY GEGE! / OH MY GHOST KING!

[nordiklemon]

Day 8: Red String of Fate

----

Fate has declared you gay.

[lunanoc]

PART III: WHO ARE KING SHANG OF LU AND THE IRON-MASKED GENTLEMAN, AND WHY IS IT EVEN IMPORTANT

finally we’re reaching the end of this thing

(to see previous disclaimers and context here’s part I and part II of this madness)

blanket spoiler warning for the books once again

more disclaimers, the entirety of this part is where i veer solidly into crack theory and full-on interpretation, so while everything i’m presenting here does have arguments based on sources that’s important we do love sources, it’s very much speculation and not hard fact

now that that’s out of the way, let’s get into the really wild stuff

with the various versions of “king shang of lu”’s and the iron-masked gentleman’s story, along with king mu of zhou’s story more or less unpacked (or as unpacked as they can be given we don’t know everything or even have a definitive truth), the real question then becomes what exactly you do with that information

based on what we’ve determined so far through the various versions of these characters’ stories, and taking into account the dubious nature of some or all of them to some degree, i feel there are a few base assumptions and conclusions you can come to, and that i’ll be working with from here on out:

the silkbook that wu xie found in “king shang of lu”’s coffin was indeed a fake, and was placed there with wu xie in mind, knowing that he would find it, and its purpose was to ease wu xie into the game the wu and xie families had been playing with the wang family. whether it was wu sanxing himself or the wang family who did it isn’t certain, and while either is a solid option, @tiesanjiaoshenanigans raised some solid arguments in favor of it being wu sanxing that you can read in their reblog here. in any case, it’s highly unlikely that it was xiaoge. grain of salt because i haven’t reached this point myself, but i’ve looked into a particular passage in ten years (Ten Years, Ch. 31, Key) where wu xie thinks back on the seven star palace, and while he does speculate that wu sanxing had a hand in using the silkbook jin wantang brought to him for his own purposes, wu xie also works on the assumption that it was xiaoge who swapped out a real silkbook for the fake one that contained the first version of king shang of lu’s story, and that his unease was due to recovered memories. granted wu xie does also speculate that he’d had the impression that xiaoge had been to the seven star palace several times before, which is entirely possible due to its significance in relation to “the truth of the world” (credit to @kelly42fox for speculating that maybe the headless corpse thrown into the sacrificial ding cauldron at the entrance of the seven star palace was in fact that missing blood zombie that xiaoge had subdued on a previous visit, and it was this memory that was triggered). however, while wu xie’s word is generally the most trustworthy simply because he’s dmbj’s main narrator, bases his assumptions on logic, and readily course corrects when he’s proven wrong (so in that sense he’s not the type of unreliable narrator who deliberately misleads the reader), he’s still a limited pov character, and what wu xie thinks he knows isn’t always necessarily the truth. because again, xiaoge planting the fake silkbook implies either he or chen pi ah si had a solid motivation for deceiving wu xie specifically, which seems odd all things considered

the wang family’s version of the tale of king shang of lu is the closest we have to the truth simply by virtue of it being the most detailed, of providing additional information that conveniently sheds light both on things mentioned in prior books and things mentioned in later books, and of it being a tale they clearly believe in. while it’s likely not the entire truth, both because they have a clear bias, and because they themselves are lacking key elements of this history, namely what “the truth of the world” is and what their feud with the zhang family truly stems from (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 146, Wang Zanghai), it’s the best candidate so far

the iron-masked gentleman from the first two versions of “king shang of lu”’s story and the owner of the fox mask from the wang family’s story are the same person, and there might be more to his identity than you’d think

with all this being said, what’s left to consider is the possible identities of the characters in this story, namely king shang of lu, the iron-masked gentleman, and king mu of zhou, and the ramifications of those possibilities

let’s start with the iron-masked gentleman, as he’s arguably the most nebulous of the three, and for the sake of convenience i’m going to refer to him as just iron mask from here on out since that’s what he’s best known as

ironically however, the first detail i want to bring attention to regarding him is that he specifically wears a fox mask adorned with “patterns often found on bronze ware”, bronze ware being so precious a material at the time that it was used almost exclusively for ritual objects, most often funerary ones (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 132, Lesson). later, we learn from the wang instructor that similar fox masks were correlated with a specific group of tomb robbers operating in shandong (where this story takes place) during the same time period (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 134, Deception). based on this alone, i feel it’s safe to say that some type of parallel is being drawn between both iron mask, and if not this particular group of grave robbers, then at the very least the activity of robbing tombs. this detail will be important in a bit

for now, let’s look at how iron mask is presented to the reader in the various versions of king shang of lu’s story we’re successively given:

in the first version taken from the fake silkbook, iron mask plays a fairly neutral role despite helping king shang of lu to find the famed jade burial armor, which ironically in this version he also reveals the existence of to the man he advises

in both the second version briefly mentioned by xiaoge and in the third version given by the wang family, iron mask plays a more duplicitous role, either by stealing the jade armor for himself, or by sharing in duping the ruler of the state of lu to acquire his resources to find the jade burial armor in king mu of zhou’s tomb

according to the wang family’s version of the story, iron mask wasn’t king shang of lu’s advisor, but rather the advisor of the ruler of the state of lu, and as such, while he wasn’t in a position of direct power himself, he was in a position to influence said power, and he clearly did given he deliberately swayed the ruler of the state of lu into granting resources to rob king mu of zhou’s tomb. it’s also noteworthy enough to mention that the state of lu happens to be where confucius was born among other eminent scholars of the spring and autumn period, the intellectually prosperous period preceding the warring states period, and the one during which king mu of zhou supposedly began to implement his plan by incorporating the guarantee of tomb robbing into chinese tradition itself (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 135, Stone Box). as such, the state of lu had a particularly important cultural influence on the rest of china both at the time and going forward. what i’m getting at by bringing this up is that iron mask was therefore not only in a position to influence the court of just any of the many states of the eastern zhou dynasty, he was in a position to influence one of the more prominent states of the time that had been a hub for some of the foundations of chinese culture for millenia to come. that iron mask was the one to recommend “king shang” to the ruler of the state of lu in the first place, clearly long before king shang ever had any sort of prominent position at court, further solidifies this idea.

and while there’s no direct evidence to infer that king shang, iron mask, and king mu might have been searching for and robbing tombs before iron mask ever brought up the idea of robbing king mu’s to the ruler of the state of lu, the previous connection between iron mask and the grave robbers with fox masks seems to hint at that possibility, and the narrative, by drawing this parallel, lends itself to interpreting iron mask and these fox-mask wearing grave robbers as some sort of organized collective

as mentioned in a previous part, the wang instructor explains to li cu that a number of these fox masks were found in tombs all over shandong, and that grave robbers of the time associated foxes with grave robbing because they’d often burrow in grave robber tunnels and around graveyards. what this then means is that, assuming these fox mask-wearing grave robbers and iron mask are indeed connected, then the activity of grave robbing itself is also connected to iron mask, or rather iron mask is connected to tomb robbing. as for the reasoning behind why someone would consistently wear a mask to the point their identity becomes eclipsed by it, the easiest answer is to assume that concealing their identity was maybe the point, and in the case of iron mask, given we have no information on his real name or anything else about him really, if that was his goal, then he clearly succeeded. therefore this fox mask he wears potentially has the dual purpose of both hiding his identity, and establishing some form of kinship with others who wore similar masks

to sum up then, iron mask was a man whose true identity and name remains unknown, who held an influential position in the court of one of the more prominent and certainly most culturally significant states of the eastern zhou dynasty, was associated in some capacity with grave robbing via kinship with a group of people who wore the same type of mask as him, and he used his influence at court to sway the ruler he advised into taking actions that benefited him in some capacity. as it happens, we know of at least one organized group of people in dmbj’s universe who also held influential positions in various imperial courts, are associated with grave robbing, and used their influence in spheres of power to sway rulers and/or the course of history in directions that benefited them and/or their endgame

do you see where i’m going with this

again, there’s nothing anywhere that can directly confirm that either iron mask and/or the fox-masked grave robbers were members of the zhang family or even associated with them, but there’s also nothing to technically disprove it either so i’ll just. leave the parallels here for people’s consideration

but where things get even more interesting is when you stop to then consider who “king shang of lu” might be

outside of the very first stone slab we get in the seven star palace that describes king shang of lu as having been “born with the ghost seal in hand” and the command of the army of the dead, if we assume that version 1 of his story in the silkbook that wu xie finds is dubious at best, then we don’t really get all that much about king shang of lu’s life or identity. the wang family’s version describes him as being introduced to the court of the state of lu as a descendent of the zhou emperor and as a “strange man” or “奇人” (qiren), which can either mean a “strange” person or an “extraordinary” person, as in having extraordinary talents, which arguably, given what his tomb looks like, he was (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 132, Lesson).

beyond this however, there’s nothing in the wang family’s version to suggest that king shang of lu was anyone of note before iron mask quite literally pulled him out of thin air, as if he’d never existed until he suddenly appeared at court one day like a mysterious messenger from the beyond that the ruler of the state of lu, if not purports him to be, then may also believe him to be. the mystery persists with the tale of how king shang of lu supposedly gained his title by communing with the dead king mu of zhou to ask permission to open his tomb, since while we know that this perspective on what happened is in fact skewed by what the ruler of the state of lu who was tricked saw, and that in reality, king mu of zhou wasn’t dead, knowing this doesn’t answer how king shang of lu actually acquired the ghost seal or who he really is, if his identity is even significant. that he was “born with the ghost seal” in hand is likely a descriptor made to reflect him coming out of the coffin he’d been sealed as if “reborn” under his new title with the proof of his “covenant” with king mu of zhou. however, given the meaning of the name 殇 shang mentioned earlier (that is to say “to die young or at war”), and despite the explanation given of his title as a means to justify the subsequent robbing of king mu of zhou’s tomb, it nonetheless leaves you wondering why this name, and why specify that he was a direct descendant of king mu rather than simply “forming a covenant” with him? it could simply be that it was the most efficient ploy to manipulate the ruler of the state of lu into finding convenient moral outs, and there’s nothing more to read into it than the first step of the elaborate plan king mu of zhou had roped king shang of lu and iron mask into

but consider: we’ve established that while it seemed as if there were only two people working together, in fact there were three. but what if against all odds, there really were only two people in the end? after all, a third party is never really hinted at in the earlier versions of this story we get in book 1, unless you count the initial corpse in the fake silkbook version of the story that king shang supposedly removed from the jade burial armor when he found it, but that can’t have been king mu if king mu was in fact alive. what i’m saying is, what if we consider the crazy possibility that king mu of zhou and king shang of lu were in fact the same person

we know that king mu of zhou faked his death centuries before, and while he might have simply sought out and convinced king shang and iron mask of his identity, objectively, the less outside parties involved in his plan, the better. to be fair, it’s entirely possible that king mu used himself as a living example that immortality existed in order to bait king shang and iron mask into helping him, only for them to betray him later and successively take the jade armor for themselves. but if you consider the possibility that king shang was nothing more than an alias king mu used to “return to life” so to speak, it wouldn’t be less fitting of an explanation, as who could possibly have stood to recognize the face of a man centuries dead? of course, nothing really exists to solidly confirm this idea, which is the case for pretty much all of this “meta” that’s entirely speculation at this point but consider

after all, king mu of zhou saw “the truth of the world” in the queen mother of the west’s kingdom. i’ll come back to her briefly later, but we also know that to our knowledge, before wang zanghai, the zhang family were the only other people to have access to that “truth”. it’s reasonable to assume that king mu of zhou, having seen the “truth of the world” and returned from the queen mother of the west’s kingdom changed from it in more ways than one, might have also gained knowledge of another party who knew this “truth”. it’s equally reasonable to assume that rather than go through a third party and thus introduce an unknown variable into his plan, and seeing as king mu of zhou had been “dead” long enough that no one would recognize him should he choose to assume a different identity, it would have simply been easier to approach the only other party who both shared in the same forbidden knowledge, as well as presumably shared similar goals to some extent. and if iron mask was a zhang, then coming back to the previous point, given his particular social status, iron mask would have been the prime candidate for king mu to turn to for assistance. it also stands to reason that if iron mask was a zhang, then by extension a member of the zhang family would have accepted a mutually beneficial arrangement. after all, king mu’s plan and goals aligned somewhat with the zhang family’s interests, and they had to have been aware of king mu’s covert manipulation during the spring and autumn period. using grave robbing as a means of perpetuating curated traditions and culture over centuries, manipulating the flow of history, and thus making it extremely easy to practice convenient historical revisionism perfectly aligned with the zhang family’s designs. arguably it’s also precisely what the zhang family had been doing and continued to do, as wu xie himself eventually speculates, wondering if the zhang family had used tomb robbing as a means of disseminating if not false, then modified histories in order to control china’s “fate” through the ages (Tibetan Sea Flower, Ch. 67, Biggest Secret)

in addition to that, considering we know the ghost seal is something tied to the main zhang family, particularly zhang qiling, and that it allows passage into the bronze gate beneath changbai mountain that houses the ultimate (which is what “the truth of this world” ostensibly is) past the ghost army that does exist (though whether they can be controlled is something we have no evidence of), it’s also not a stretch of the imagination to consider that the zhang family might have lent the ghost seal to king mu/king shang for appearance’s sake. and if all this did have to do with the zhang family and there really were only two people involved in the endgame of this story, it might also provide a tentative reason for xiaoge’s unease as he tries to parse through why there isn’t a third blood corpse in the seven star palace. it might have triggered a memory or some feeling in him that there was an explanation to all this that existed but that he wasn’t privy to in the moment, but perhaps he had been privy to it in the past, and perhaps he had come to find it many times before that he could no longer recall because it was a place tied to the zhang family in some capacity

that does however raise the question of why then had iron mask’s memoirs been circulating if he’d been a zhang, but then again, dissemination of information via tombs was a plan the zhang family had every reason to encourage and perpetuate if they hadn’t already been in the business of practicing it, so if iron mask was a zhang, he would have neither had any qualms about participating in it himself, nor of providing a revised version of the truth. after all, we have no indication that version 2 of the story as told by xiaoge is a truthful account either, especially since this version still doesn’t reveal a name for the iron-masked gentleman despite it coming from his supposed memoirs

in addition to that, we also get an interesting tidbit in hindsight from practically the very beginning of book 1, where wu sanxing takes note of the fox pattern on the warring states silkbook that started wu xie’s journey into the conspiracies and says that it depicts “the mask worn by the earliest people in the state of lu when they were offered up as sacrifices” and that it must mean that “someone with a very special identity” was buried in the tomb, possibly “more respected that the emperor” (Book 1, Ch.3, Temple of Seeds). it’s hard to say what to make of the notion that the fox-masked people were “sacrifices” considering the wang family’s story explicitly makes them out to be grave robbers, so either or both of them is a lie. however, it does at least confirme there is something special about these fox-masked people beyond what’s being said (especially given the green-eyed fox corpse, who following the zhang logic, might have been a lower ranked family member offered up as a sacrifice and who turned after death, but this is probably a stretch), and whoever is buried in that tomb is abnormally important. the only real issue you run into with this train of thought is considering how far back the zhang family tomb extends, why would any zhang of note not be buried in it, so that’s at least one gap in logic

all of this then leaves us with a final question: if we assume iron mask was a zhang, and that king shang of lu was in fact a false identity created by king mu of zhou for himself, then what exactly happened in the seven star palace, and who is who in what coffin?

we know that the seven star palace is a warring states period tomb constructed on top of a pre-existing western zhou dynasty tomb. there’s no indication of whether this pre-existing tomb was meant to be king mu’s (in which case it was at least partially a dupe as he was still alive), and raises the problem of king mu not having had the jade armor prior to the king shang of lu story as he was actively looking for it, so he can’t have found it in his own tomb. to me, this means there are two possibilities to consider:

possibility one: king mu had a tomb built for himself during his reign that was designed with his plan in mind, which might explain the presence of the snake cypress (which we again only ever see elsewhere in gutongjing in ancient ruins related to a candle dragon baby snake mine, so clearly it being in the seven star palace is of some significance). king mu and iron mask did find a jade burial armor, but in another tomb or elsewhere that isn’t what would become the seven star palace

possibility two: king mu and iron mask, with each other’s mutual knowledge and abilities, found a tomb containing a jade burial armor that happened to be a western zhou dynasty tomb. the story then roughly proceeds like in the first two versions, and king mu/shang removes the corpse from the jade armor and takes it for himself

in some ways i feel like the most logical and likely option is the first one, simply because the mechanisms inside the seven star palace are too precise and deliberate, namely the timer coffin that was tied to the box with the baby in it (which i won’t be getting into here because that’s for another meta). this then leaves us with the problem of determining exactly who is who in this tomb by the time wu xie walks into it. the wang family implies that king mu’s plan ultimately failed because he hadn’t considered that someone like wang zanghai would come about and have the ability to hijack king mu’s plan for his own purposes. you can interpret that either as referring to his grave robbing plan alone, or that it also refers to king mu himself successfully staying in the jade armor for as long as it would take for him to come out of it side effect free. the ambiguity of what the wang family meant by “plan” makes it difficult to decide whether, following that wording, it leaves room for king mu to have been dumped out of the jade burial armor or not, which doesn’t really make deciding who is who any easier. for the record, wu xie mentions later when he comes back to this story in ten years later that he believes the one buried in the coffin under the snake cypress was iron mask (and npss also states this in his timeline in the postscript of book 8). if we choose to believe this is correct, and that king shang of lu was in fact king mu of zhou, then it leaves two more possible outcomes to the story:

possibility one: the thing in the coffin at the entrance of the seven star palace is king mu of zhou, and he was also the blood zombie that xiaoge killed

possibility two: the thing in the coffin is king mu of zhou, but he didn’t turn into a blood zombie, rather into something different or more powerful, and therefore the blood zombie xiaoge killed was someone else

the only thing that makes me doubt in this theory that king mu of zhou could both have been the blood zombie xiaoge killed and whatever was in the coffin at the entrance to the seven star palace is that to start with, there was a coffin so elaborate there to begin with convenient enough to place someone in (unless there had actually initially been a sacrifice in it and that’s the body that got dumped in the ding cauldron on the side to get replaced), that if wu xie was correct in assuming xiaoge had been to the seven star palace before, he would have left a dangerous blood zombie that could roam around in it “alive”, and lastly, the fact that not only did xiaoge kowtow to it to ask for safe passage within the tomb, even after having killed the blood zombie, xiaoge insisted on respecting the time limit the thing in the coffin had set and pushed wu sanxing’s team to leave the seven star palace before dawn regardless. it’s worth noting that xiaoge has never kowtowed to a corpse outside of this occasion (to my knowledge at least), has only actually knelt in front of changbai mountain that houses the bronze gate really, and has only ever spoken to one other also incredibly old and likely powerful corpse that was very likely one of the first people to come out of the kunlun mountains, and that rests inside the meteorite in tamutuo (Restart Part I: The Sound of Providence, Ch. 222, Countdown to the Finale 4).

why adamantly continue to uphold the demands of a creature that you’ve killed and that can presumably no longer harm you? unless leaving before dawn was an imperative that went beyond the sole demands of the thing inside the coffin at the entrance, it’s a little strange. however, the problem with saying that whatever was in the coffin at the entrance to the seven star palace and the blood zombie that xiaoge killed are two different entities makes things difficult, because it would mean there was some third party involved somehow, and it gives possibility two (the one where king mu/shang and iron mask find another tomb to steal the jade burial armor from and co-opt it) a little more ground. i haven’t been able to find any conclusive information on where the real-life king mu of zhou was buried, and it’s hard to say how much of an argument a real-life fact holds for something like this, but it’s interesting to note that the western zhou dynasty’s capital was fenghao, located in what’s now part of present day xi’an in the province of shaanxi, and the province of shaanxi is roughly 800 km (or 500 miles) from the province of shandong where the seven star palace is. it’s relatively far, especially for the time period, so does the distance justify the thought that it might not have been king mu of zhou’s tomb that was used as the basis for the seven star palace after all? did king mu/shang and iron mask really find a tomb that contained a jade burial armor and co-opt it? more food for thought

either way, whether or not the blood zombie xiaoge killed was king mu of zhou, if we choose to follow both wu xie and npss, then it doesn’t change the fact that it’s very likely that regardless, king mu of zhou ended up in the coffin at the entrance of the seven star palace, and iron mask in the jade burial armor in the coffin beneath the snake cypress. in that case, it brings into question the motivations iron mask might have had for doing this if, following the current theory, he really was a member of the zhang family. surprisingly, it’s not too difficult to think of some plausible ones

the zhang family have been searching for a way to curb their own terrible longevity curse for centuries, to the extent their blind determination to find meaning in their existence is what proved to be the fatal weakness that drove them right into wang zanghai’s and the wang family’s trap. if he really was a zhang, why then would iron mask have been any different, especially since given the time period, knowledge of anything connected to either the queen mother of the west, or what her kingdom housed (re: the meteorite), or both would have likely still been fresh enough for zhang family members anyway. the promise of the jade burial armor could have been a tempting offer for a man himself doomed from birth. it’s also possible that while king mu of zhou’s grave robbing plan naturally aligned with what the zhang family had likely already been doing, and so in that sense they facilitated it, they drew the line at him potentially accessing longevity, as king mu of zhou remained an outsider and therefore an unknown variable in the long run. better then for one of their own to guard something like a jade burial armor than someone who while aware of the “truth”, wasn’t necessarily an ally, which is what ended up happening much later with wang zanghai. king mu would thus have been a liability to dispose of. and king mu/shang might have sensed this and tried to have all the people working with him killed like the first two versions of the king shang of lu story seem to suggest, and so iron mask really did fake his own death to ensure king mu couldn’t succeed

i realize this idea raises a number of other problems, such as again why the zhangs would not either have kept some knowledge that one of their own was buried not only outside of the family tomb (which had things dating back to the spring and autumn period, suggesting burial in it had already been an established tradition then), but also in something like a jade burial armor. maybe they did, and it’s one of those secrets only zhang qiling is privy to. only xiaoge would truly be able to answer that (not that he will). it’s also possible following this logic that if iron mask did fake his own death, doing so placed him outside the scope of the family enough he was free to act of his own selfish free will and seized the opportunity, but again, this is all speculation. it also raises the question of why the wang family, if they’d known there was a zhang buried in jade burial armor, wouldn’t have tampered with it and removed him, but then again, they likely needed to keep the corpse there to bring their plan against the zhang family to fruition regardless of who it was

for the sake of debate, i might as well also share an alternative theory to this, that while i feel has a lot more problems and ultimately doesn’t fit with a number of other elements of dmbj lore brought up here where the theory this “meta” has been about so far does, is still maybe worth mentioning. it’s essentially the reverse, that the iron-masked gentleman was king mu of zhou’s fabricated identity, and king shang of lu was a zhang. again, i feel like this spin on the theory has a lot of logic problems going on, but if i had to make a case for it:

殇 shang and 张 zhang are vaguely homonyms and both pronounced in the first tone, which while it’s likely a coincidence, lends this theory a tiny bit of substance given the zhang family is also associated with death both by nature and design

if king shang was a zhang, it could explain why he would have had access to the ghost seal, in which case it would have been iron mask who sought the zhang family out and then ultimately duped them

if iron mask was king mu, then his ability to spin a tall tale about himself to the ruler of the state of lu would have been much easier

if king shang was a zhang, then slaughtering any outsiders aware of the plan would have made sense to ensure knowledge would stay within the family

it would also mean that king shang the zhang was tossed out of the jade burial armor and presumably into the coffin at the entrance of the seven star palace while iron mask/king mu took his place, and was maybe duped by iron mask/king mu who faked his own death because the zhang family’s hubris has always been massive and he didn’t suspect he could be bested

this would fit with the interpretation that by saying only wang zanghai prevented king mu’s plan from succeeding, the wang family meant both his grave robbing plan and his ability to successfully attain longevity without side effects

this would have presumably also given iron mask/king mu the time to accomplish his “series of things” such as writing his “memoirs” onto a silkbook, constructing his own coffin duo together with the box that contained the unborn baby

that would mean that whatever was in the coffin at the entrance of the seven star palace was a zhang, which might explain why xiaoge would feel the need to kowtow to it when this is something he doesn’t usually do

again, as nice as this idea seems, it has a bunch of flaws to it, namely for example how that would then connect the fox-masked people and iron mask (unless you want to consider those were simply his own followers brought about by implementing his own plan), how king mu even in disguise could have had held a position at court without any suspicion and likely no familial backing as he’d faked his own death, and many more. so ultimately i feel like t’s not as solid of a theory, but it’s an interesting contrasting thought

as for who the queen mother of the west really was, that’s also up for debate and lot more difficult to determine. though li cu suggests even she might be a fabrication meant to embellish the story of king mu of zhou for the sake of luring people into believing immortality existed, we know enough by sand sea to be certain she did in fact exist. while it’s unclear whether she truly was the queen mother of the west of legend, i like to think she was simply because we have no other accounts of anyone with that name, and because of how deeply entrenched she was in things relating to “the truth of the world” that she was more or less implied to have been privy to. the theory i’m personally going with is that she discovered the meteorite in the qaidam basin and constructed a kingdom around it (which would have taken far longer than a lifetime to accomplish to the degree that she did), knowing full well what the meteorite represented and what it could do. and if she did know, then considering her knowledge of “the truth of this world”, and her supposed longevity, it’s not entirely impossible to consider, especially given the title of the book itself, that the queen mother of the west might be related to the ancestors of the zhang family mentioned in queen mother’s ghost banquet, and that she simply belonged to a different branch of those people who took a different direction than the zhang family did, and sought to remedy the curse in a different way. and what better way than to return to its source? after all, knowing the zhang family’s origins, it’s not impossible to suggest that not all of the people who emerged from beneath the kunlun mountains and among other things built the bronze gate all ended up congregating to form what would become the zhang family. we know, for example, that baima, xiaoge’s mother, also had special blood akin to the one running in the zhang family, enough that she passed it on to xiaoge, ironically granting him purer special blood than any other main family zhang by that point. so it’s not that far-fetched to think there may have been offshoots of the zhang family’s ancestors who chose to lead a different life and eventually drifted apart from their brethren enough that they lost knowledge of each other, or served a different purpose for whatever is controlling the zhang family like marionnettes on a string

so this has been a massive “meta” i still can’t believe i actually sat down and wrote this

hopefully it makes some kind of sense and isn’t just incoherent babbling i’m going to be honest that’s still what it is lbr and i’m not sure it’s contributed much to anything besides being one more rabbit hole crack theory, but uhhh if you’ve stuck out this long thank you for reading! and feel free to comment or add anything onto this i’m always happy to talk about dmbj lore please talk to me about dmbj lore

[humming-fly]

Happy “I’ve been hoarding resources for 5 months for this character drop” day! 

[tolkiens]

finished Dawntrail btw the raids are super camp

[imaginmatrix]

Hey

guess what

I finished writing aoyaom :)

[pupkou]

1/4 finals done

[whumpiary]

for anon, who requested christopher and cassius' last time.

content warnings: dubcon, grief, grieving an abuser, choking, death thoughts, passing suicidal ideation

-

Christopher is playing the guitar. Cass can hear the soft notes and chords halfway down the hallway, before he can even see the light spilling out, where the door has been left ajar. If it’s a particular song, Cass can’t pick it. But that’s not unusual. Sometimes Christopher just picks up the guitar and starts tinkering, the music winding in and out of different refrains and patterns, transitioning endlessly from one to the next.

Cass has fallen asleep to the sound of him playing more than once. Curled up on the couch beside him, head against Christopher’s hip. Or on the ground at his feet, arms looped around his calf, the lower notes sending humming vibrations into his bones. The easy tempos schooling his breath. 

It occurs to him, standing outside the door, just out of sight, that he won’t ever be able to do that anymore. That after tonight, he’ll probably never hear Christopher play the guitar again. 

For a moment, he doesn’t step inside. He rests his head on the door frame and listens. To notes weaving in and out. To the subtle ringing scratch of Chirstopher’s fingers moving up and down the frets.

It’s beautiful.

And full of longing.

And very fucking sad.

The music doesn’t stop as he steps over the threshold. But a note rings out longer than the rest and he can see Christopher note him in his periphery. 

They haven’t talked since it happened. Not really. He’s not sure they’ll talk tonight either. He’s not even sure that Christopher will let him stay. But he wanted to see him. He wanted to be in his space, part of his furniture. For one last night.

He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him, actually. For wanting that. But he wants it.

He tucks himself in the corner of the room, on the corner of the couch, far away from the solitary arm-chair Christopher has elected to sit in tonight, and listens to the music. After a while, it seems to not be music at all as much as it is scales, and then tuning. Out of one key into the next. Then more scales.

When Christopher’s hands finally go still, the final strum reverberates out across the room like the ripples in a lake. There’s the final scratch of strings as he puts it down and then there’s nothing. Just quiet.

Without the sound the room feels too still. Too empty. Cass can feel Christopher looking at him. He picks at the skin around his nails and doesn’t look back.

Christopher’s anger is always a weighted, silent thing. Cold and smooth like lead, poisoning slowly on contact.

Sometimes it could be assuaged. Warmed up slowly by syrupy sweetness and good behaviour, or snapped in half and turned into something else, pointy-edged and vicious. Cass doesn’t have it in him to try for either tonight. He isn’t sure it would work either. 

After what feels like an hour of staring, Christopher stands, moves to the bar cart, fixes them both a drink. Himself a whiskey. Cassius a gin. Their fingertips brush as the glass is passed, Christopher’s cold with condensation. Neither one of them looks at the other. 

Cass skin prickles in anticipation of Christopher sitting beside him but it doesn't happen. Instead the man keeps moving, taking gliding steps over to the bookshelves where the record player sits, drawers full of vinyls below them. He starts thumbing through them silently, taking idle sips of Glenfiddich as he does.

Cassius sips his own drink and doesn’t taste it. There’s just the sensation of cold on his lips, down his throat, down his chest.

Christopher seems to want to take his time with every piece of tonight. Or maybe he just can't decide which record. There is a dull crackle when the turntable starts up, before strings ring out, and then a melodic voice.

One kiss, one little sigh That’s all you gave me When you said goodbye.

���Cassius.”

Cass raises his head but he can’t force his gaze to meet Christopher’s. His eyes snag somewhere by his waist. He watches Christopher put down his whiskey. Put his hand out.

But someday, baby Someday, darlin'

“Dance with me, darling.”

You're gonna miss me.

Grief strikes Cass' heart like a spear. Like a physical thing. Sharp and penetrative. Right in the middle of his chest. He stays staring at Christopher’s hands. He feels his features pinch. He shakes his head.

“Cassius, please.”

Christopher’s desire is a steady pulse. For once, not a ravenous, glutinous thing but a low and hungry ache. He wants closeness. He wants gentleness. A quiet goodbye. Cassius can barely stand it. The thought alone makes him want to crumble. He shakes his head again 

Christopher’s voice is sharp and loud. Thunderclap in the middle of the night, “You are still mine.”

Cass tenses to hold down his own flinch. For a moment there is no movement but the tiny slosh of gin in his glass, threatening to overspill the rim. No sound beyond the music.

Christopher breathes sucks in a breath so deep it shakes in his chest. It’s such a strange sound. When he speaks again, his tone is back to its usual softness.

“For tonight, you are still mine.” His voice cracks on the final word. Thick with grief. Close to tears. Cassius doesn’t know what to do with that. “And you will do as I ask.”

Cassius can feel himself shaking. He feels stupid for it. He holds his gin so tight his hand aches, the crystalline patterning of the cup pressing into his palm. He can’t look up.

Christopher tries one more time, gentle and pleading, “Please, Cassius. Dance with me.”

Connie Francis keeps crooning from the record player.

Cassius unfolds himself with the same delicacy as someone folding their hand over a fistful of broken glass. His feet are cold on the floorboards. He can’t feel his hands until they slip into Christopher’s. Then all at once he feels he’s far too warm.

Christopher taught him how to waltz in this room. And to tango. Large warm hands gently holding his boy’s smaller one. Soft laughs at missed steps, a little thrill in Cassius’ stomach when he was twirled or dipped. He wasn’t very good at it. But it was fun. And it felt kinda romantic. For a while.

He knows the steps. How to follow Christopher’s lead.

Oh yes, you're gonna learn I'm not the only one whose heart will burn

What else has his time here been but following Christopher’s lead?

'Cause someday, baby, someday darlin'... You’re gonna miss me

Over and over and over and over.

The song fades out. There’s a small crackle before the needle finds the next.

I was dancing, with my darlin’, to the Tennessee Waltz When an old friend I happened to see

Christopher changes his grip on his boy's hand, brings him in to hold him closer. The steps become smaller and slower. More of a rock. A swaying embrace.

I introduced her to my loved one And while they were dancing My friend stole my sweetheart from me

All at once Cass can’t take it. He feels grief bubbling up and up in his chest like a rising tide, high in his throat and then behind his eyes. Christopher’s gentle grip becomes a vice around his wrist as he tries to shift away. He’s held close, tight, and he pulls against it as a sob wracks him.

“I can’t,” he says. “I can’t do this.”

“You can.” There’s a tightness to Christopher’s voice. “Dance with me.”

“I don’t want to. I can’t-”

“Cassius.”

He lets out a cry, protest and defeat in one breath, a final tug against Christopher’s grip the last bit of fight he has in him. He presses his head to Christopher’s chest and his shoulders shake. He regrets everything all at once. It comes pouring out of him in crushed up sobs, each choking in his throat one after the other. 

“I’m sorry,” he can barely make his voice go louder than a whisper, broken up . “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t- I didn’t want to.”

“Don’t lie to me, darling boy. Not tonight.”

“I love you,” he says instead, voice thick as he pulls back to look at him. He feels like he's dying. “I love you.”

Christopher takes his boy by the chin, running a thumb over his bottom lip. His eyes look so dark in the firelight.

When he brings their lips together, his mouth is soft and hot. Cass sobs into it, kissing him like it’s the only way he knows how to breathe. He kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. He can’t stop crying. It takes him a while to realise Christopher is crying too. 

He brings his hands to the man’s face, thumb running over his cheek, intercepting the path of a tear. He’s seen Christopher cry a small handful of times. He doesn’t think he’s ever been the cause of it before.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispers. Confession and heartbreak.

“Don’t lie to me, love.”

Christopher lifts him easily, kissing him again and again as he walks them both to the bedroom. They don’t speak. When they get there, Cassius is undressed piece by piece. It’s only when he reaches for Christopher’s shirt that the man pauses to undress himself.

It feels right for them both to be bare for this. Skin pressed to skin, heart pressed to heart.

Christopher’s hands feel so hot that Cass is sure a trail of singed flesh must be left in the wake of his touch. There must be blackened skin and ash falling from him. Every part of him burned up like a match.

He cries out when Christopher enters him, sobs rattling his ribs and head falling back against the pillows as his body arches up, lets him in. There’s an ache to it. There’s an ache to all of it. To everything.

Christopher’s hands stay on his waist, Cass’ crying an off rhythm staccato to the movement of their bodies. In. Cass can’t breathe, lungs suddenly too big for his chest, expanded by grief. Out. Sobs shake him faster than he can keep up.

Christopher brings his mouth to his boy’s chest, teeth grazing the juncture of his neck, tongue working up his throat. The kiss is suffocating. So deep Cass feels like he’s drowning. In and out. And in and out. And all he can think about is getting closer to him and closer to him and crawling into Christopher's skin so he doesn’t have to leave come morning.

He isn’t surprised when hands encircle his throat. Christopher shifts back, face stoic and unreadable if it weren’t for the tears on his cheeks, not yet pressing in. The want for Cass to stay, to stay still, to stay here, to never leave, bleeds off of him like ink through water. Like an oil spill.

Cass sucks in a breath. When Christopher cuts his air off it feels like being pulled under by a riptide.

He wants to stay there forever, Christopher buried deep inside of him, hands around his throat, claiming him, owning him, killing him. He wants to stay like this. He never wants to separate. He wants to die like this.

He doesn’t want to go.

It’s Christopher who can’t take it in the end. He lets go all at once, brow pinched in his own grief, and collapses forward to pepper kisses all over his boy’s gasping face. His hips snap faster. He grips tight enough to bruise. To claim. To make them one.

When Cass can breathe again, words fall out of him unheeded, “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh.”

“I love you. I love you.”

His body hurts.

He wants to stay like this.

His mouth is dry.

He never wants to separate.

Everything aches. Everything, everything aches.

He doesn’t want to go.

Christopher finishes inside of him and pulls out, sweeping him onto his side to hold him close, kiss his hair, rub circles into his back. Cassius doesn’t know how long the both of them weep for.

Cassius goes to sleep curled against Christopher’s chest, the man’s arms tight around him, the sheets damp with tears and everything else, his body an empty shell.

He wakes up entirely alone.