#he is the most desperate soul... orz | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bapydemonprincess · 4 years ago

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Can you tell us more about reaper ambrose? (I am sorry if the question isn't specific I am bad with asking questions)

AWW YOU!! QwQ Thank you so much for asking! 💖💖💖💖 I love my poor tragic boy!!!

TRIGGER WARNING: Descriptions of a character committing suicide.

I got very very curious early on about Ambrose getting so desperate to get supernatural powers he’d try becoming a reaper. I held off for a long time due to my focus being on I guess.. “canon Ambrose” getting a demon of his own as a boyfriend eventually! And I do love love LOVE those two SO much!! 🖤🖤🖤 But my mind still kept wandering back to this concept, and I just didn’t know HOW it would happen... I can’t remember when or what triggered the idea, but mainly I knew the biggest issue Ambrose had to prevent him from trying THIS out was his mother being capable of uncovering what the fuck he was doing the second he’d dare anything... So he’d need something to keep Sebastian from REACHING him.

Once he was full on in the mindset, and determined to get this done, Ambrose came across a nearby town... where a very old church was. Every day he’d come around, hovering, seeing the times it was in service, seeing how many went to it, and when they all left...

Finally, in a very quiet part of the night, sometime past 3, Ambrose slipped into that church himself, along with what he knew would be the best way. Fast, if done right. And Ambrose had certainly studied for a while on how to do everything right.

He even set some wards down too around the area. Much less obvious than the church itself such a salt, and sage and thyme plants. As well as a few drawn runes he knew to be useful and real, from some tomes he’d been given by his dear aunt Hannah.

He then set up a chair, and started tackling the rope he would be using.

He knew there were many possibilities of this failing, as he assumed such tactics always had a 50% chance of going wrong, at least. But... he had to try. This was his only chance.

As he tightened the rope firmly around his neck, Ambrose took his last deep breaths, before stepping off the chair and letting gravity do its job.

It indeed worked fast. Faster than even he would expect from such a tactic. But as he lost the ability to properly breathe, felt everything go black, and nothingness embrace him just like when one suddenly falls asleep, his last thought was likely a muddy brief comment like “finally.”

Of course, this lead to a strange scene the next morning, of a man in a black suit pacing and hovering around the church, looking increasingly disgruntled. No one had ever seen this man around here before...

The priest came out, to address him.

“May I help you sir?”

“Yes, I know this may seem out of the blue, but please.. check your attic.” The man seemed to stand tense and yet vibrating with some held back emotion, deep chocolate eyes looking watery as well. His chest rose and fell frantically.

The priest, of course, stood there a few seconds, confused. But having a feeling deep down that this was not a matter to be taken lightly.

“Alright, I’ll go see. Please wait here.” The man responded finally, hand held up, as if instinctively trying to sooth though he had no idea why. Not yet.

Within the next half hour, the small town old church became a very riotous location, as a young man was found, having hung himself in the church attic, and surrounded for some reason by salt and plants. The body was brought down, and the people inside went into an uproar, but the priest did not stop to put the poor young man’s body somewhere inside, he dutifully and almost mechanically walked back out, coming back out to the man in the black suit, who automatically erupted with sobs and shot forward to take up the boy’s body.

The priest then noticed another new person nearby. A man who distinctly looked Eastern Indian, and clearly had a connection with the other man. He rushed forward as well, to embrace the other, tears also already streaming down his face.

Despite their emotional state, the taller man looked to the priest, and nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” he choked out, “thank you for finding him.”

The priest then automatically offered them help in getting him to a hospital, but they denied, trying to get away from the scene as fast as possible. The priest was left with many confused, concerned and hysterical church goers, and could only stand there, briefly pray that the couple got through their grief safely, and tried to go back to his audience to calm everyone.

Over the next weeks the Michaelis family was quite hysterical, specifically Sebastian and Aarushi themselves, becoming unstable and trying to find some way to get Ambrose back. Sebastian, of course, being so stubborn and well.. block headed that he tried going to the reaper realm himself.

Of course this lead to Miss Grelle Sutcliff rescuing his dumb ass from getting skewered by death scythes.

But the bleak madness didn’t end there. Sebastian resorted to requesting Hannah, the powerful matriarch demoness and Grelle herself to doing whatever they could to get in contact with Ambrose, to find SOME way, even if he was now permanently a reaper, to get him back home.

Hannah... refused. She tried calmly explaining to Sebastian that it was out of everyone’s hands, including hers. If Ambrose chose this, then it was up to him on what he did next. He was a full grown adult now technically after all.

And as much as Grelle did seem level headed too about this, deep down she was in fact rather upset, and that feeling came out over the next few days as the reaper went to work herself and really got to see how things were on that side.

Ambrose was being handled like any other new recruit. At least it seemed like it. However, as many many reapers now knew of the famous demon from England Sebastian Michaelis, and somehow word had gotten out at some point that this was his son, the level of normalcy handling this particular new recruit was quickly lowered to vague stink eyes and thin lips, others keeping their distance as if this young man would lash out.

And of course, the older reapers like Mr. Spears were not really helping, considering he certainly had no soft spot for that demon nor any offspring of his.

Eventually, with Ronald Knox’s help, Grelle managed to get a moment alone with the familiar gloomy boy.

They had never been as close as Ambrose had been to Grelle’s wife; “Aunt Hannah”. But as Ambrose grew up, his maturity showed as he had learned to show her respect, seeming to.. understand where she came from with her own mental issues and suffering. Not to mention on occasion the two had gotten into fun little battles. Chainsaw vs rapier. It helped the youth get out the extra bit of aggression and anger he’d had no where else to put.

But this little reunion only ended up being a shouting match, as well as almost getting a bit too physical as Grelle found herself grabbing the boy by his crisp new white shirt lapels and asking him basically if he knew “how much he’d just screwed himself over.” And also “how dare he do this to his family, his older sibling precious Aarushi, his poor sweet dad Agni, and his long suffering mother Sebastian!”

This only ended with Ambrose locking up, face going neutral, newly emerald eyes going dull.

He wouldn’t take this, even if it was from his “Aunt”.

....

Time goes by. I really am not sure what kind of scythe to give Ambrose eventually, I feel that will be like the LAST thing I figure out as its one of the most difficult orz;;; As well as, on a lesser scale, his glasses. But I assume they’d just be basic black rectangle ones. A bit on the thin side.

And then eventually he gets picked on for his long-- and now getting messy from not being taken care of --white hair. Some are horrible insults, some warnings that are pretty valid about going out and reaping souls and making sure his hair isn’t in the way.

Eventually Ambrose resigns to wearing it up in a basic hair band. Nothing really special. He just.. doesn’t care.

He hasn’t been getting sleep. Which reapers apparently still need, and yet some tell him its pretty normal. Eventually he’ll learn to adapt. But for now, there are dark bags under his eyes...seeming permanently situated.

Finally, after what seems like a full year of this reaper business, Ambrose has another visitor.

His mind whirs with who. A human he knows like his dad somehow coming over? HE BETTER NOT BE A REAPER TOO. Or... or mum... No, he knows mum already tried. He KNOWS mum would fail every time, either by getting skewered by scythes or dragged away by someone who cares about the demon actually living.

It turns out to be Hannah.

And Ambrose... doesn’t know what to think. The first possible thing is.. is... HOW?? But then he remembers: VERY POWERFUL OLD MATRIARCH DEMON, so maybe it isn’t so strange for certain highly ranked demons to contact grim reapers???

But now the familiar voice of his aunt his speaking, addressing him in that quiet, deep voice he hasn’t heard in Gods know how long...

And the surge of emotional turmoil finally rears its ugly head, after so long being docile. He wants to break down sobbing. But there is a part of him fighting frantically to keep a serious, empty face on.

But then he sees. He finally notices...

Hannah Annafellows is crying.

Tears stream down her dark skin while she still smiles welcomingly to him. But her lips are trembling, and now he notices her hands in front of her, clasped together, are shaking as well. She is still in control, but also letting her sorrow and happiness show.

"I didn't think it was as terrible as Grelle made it out to be, and yet..." She chokes out, and then bites back from saying any more for a moment.

Ambrose wonders if.. she means the situation in general.. or his appearance, or...

“You.. You are so burdened with sadness. So much heavy sadness it covers you like a casing. And you are clearly torn up. And... and... oh, my little corvus...” She gets out, and her head slowly shakes a bit.

And now Ambrose is shattering. Why.. why does she have to explain? Why does she have to--

“You are trying...even now.. to hold on. I know this. But... you feel... deep down as if you’ve made a horrible mistake.”

Hannah’s voice went rapidly to a whisper at this. A fast, frantic whisper. As if she only had so much time now to get this out.

“And indeed, it is something irreversible, Ambrose. No power on Earth, nor any other realm can truly reverse death. Many have tried. For millions of years many have tried to. And keep trying to. I know this.”

Ambrose’s mouth started to part, but his aunt continued.

“But it was not a mistake you have made, Ambrose.... It will never be a mistake.”

The boy’s eyes widened, as Hannah shook her head again, and still smiled.

“It was simply an action you felt you needed to take at the time.... That is all. It was human nature. It always has been. And never a mistake. Not by someone like you, little one. Never someone like--”

“S-STOP IT! STOP IT HANNAH!” The boy suddenly screams. Then, quieter, with a cracked tone. “Stop... please.. stop.”

And now he’s just standing there, wiping tears and snot from his face after taking off his glasses, on the back of his jacket sleeve.

Hannah quietly steps closer then. Closer, and closer, as the boy hunches in...

And finally encircles him in her arms.

Hannah continues weeping too. They both do. While she practically tries to hold him as close as she can, without full on scooping him up like a babe once more. She rocks though. Rocking them both in place while she speaks soothing things now in demon. Her voice slower, and calmer. And her tone gentle and musical with the language of Hell that Ambrose knows himself so well...

He grew up with this. Many times he had to be soothed by songs and gentle words. Not only by Hannah, but...

Another sob wracks the boy.

He misses Mum. He misses mum. He can’t see mum. He CAN’T. But he misses mum...

He’s mumbling this outloud, brokenly.

....

Eventually things do calm. Eventually they can sit and talk lightly a bit.

And eventually Hannah also decided to grab a brush from thin air and brush the boy’s unruly long hair....

It’s a bit out of the blue... but it is another soothing act.

And when Hannah seems satisfied, instead of letting the boy return the simple hair band to it, she produces a pure black ribbon from thin air, and ties up his hair in that.

I got the idea for that with this picrew letting me put Ambrose’s hair in a ponytail with a black bow.

.........

Sooooo that’s mostly all I have for now on Reaper Ambrose!!! I.. feel bad about all the angst, I really do, but I love exploring this different take all the same! I hope you liked it too, dear!! 🖤🖤🖤 Thank you again for the ask!!! >w<

#answer #my oc #Ambrose #little raven #reaper ambrose au #tw suicide mention #stale--baguette

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icharchivist · 6 years ago

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It could also be that Allen's intelligence was what lead him to discovering the Heart and Apocryphos. But it was Allen's character that made the Innocence feel connected to him (Allen possibly being the first human to truly interact one on one w/either of them in centuries). If Allen could get a guy like Nea, Tyki and Road to care about him (heck current Allen just has to be his disaster self to get just about 99% of the cast to love him w/o trying) then something like the Heart and other-

2 shouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. Also even though Nea saw Tim's recordings, I can't help but think Allen was always a sentimental/caring guy. He was very passionate on trying to convince Nea to possess his body. Later when Nea tried to pretend to be Allen to Link, he sounded like a emotional crybaby (might be how Nea saw him). So it's possible Allen's own heart touched the Heart and even Apocryphos. Innocence is sentient. The Heart more then any of it should be equal to a human.-

3 Who's to say even the Heart can't get lonely for a friend? It would just fit into the themes of Allen being pulled by all sides. Not only did he befriend Nea (1/2 of Adam) on the Noah's side. But if he also befriended the Heart. Allen could have been torn by both. But he chose Nea because Nea was dying and only wanted to save his brother. While Nea is killing Allen because past Allen asked him to. The Heart is trying save Allen as he is now. Plus yeah there could also be destiny involved. -

4 The Heart and it's host battled Adam/Earl 7 thousand years ago. This time though it seems Adam/Earl and the Heart are taking a step back and picking new champions to fight in their place. Adam/The Earl chose Mana while the Heart has picked Allen (Hevlaska called him DOT and Bookman 100% believes that means Allen is destined to defeat the Earl). But Allen has free will and he can't and he couldn't live life w/o challenging questionable status quos. =/

“ But it was Allen's character that made the Innocence feel connected to him (Allen possibly being the first human to truly interact one on one w/either of them in centuries)“ that would echo how the Earl/Mana actually took softness into Allen, while having originally another goal in mind. It would work fine imo - the same thing that brought the innocence to him also brought the dark matter to him.

“(heck current Allen just has to be his disaster self to get just about 99% of the cast to love him w/o trying)“ this is the funniest most accurate description of Allen i’ve ever seen

And you have a very good point about Nea and how he views Allen. It seems pretty likely and it seems like yeah, our current Allen’s attitude does come from somewhere.

tbh now that you point it out, the fact Nea went full on tearjerker when seeing Link as his “Allen impression” gives probably even more hints toward how he saw past!A than current!Allen because... Even if Allen cries a lot and all he had rarely been this vulnerable like that in those circumstances? And I think perhaps our Allen would also feel warry about the sudden return of a dead one. Less trusting. Perhaps therefore this sort of vulnerable trust is more something from Past!Allen than what Nea know of our Current Allen, or he saw that in Allen in other circumstances and thought “eh like Past!A close enough”?

And.. touché, bringing up the sentientness of the innocent. touché. I can see the Heart caring for Allen for those reasons yeah... After all if the Original Earl managed to feel this much sadness toward a human that he split himself in two to live by Katerina’s side, the Heart could be the same. also tired of this endless fighting, of this war that keeps repeating, and there yeah, perhaps it could have chosen the one soul that makes it feel at peace, or at least with a shot at ending this.

Perhaps something in (Past!)Allen’s vision was enough to soften both the Earl and the Heart. Perhaps just the fact they care for Allen this much is already a middleground.

But yeah now they have to deal with Past!Allen making a choice and somehow the innocence still trying to save him desperately from this choice.

As for the destiny i believe that destiny must have chosen Allen for a reason different than just “the universe decided so”, so it fits with both sides caring too much for him, putting him in the center of the stage. but like you say, even if the universe may have chosen Allen to do some lifechanging stuff, Allen is the one who’s picking his own path rn, and him running away from both the Noah and the Innocence shows also how... perhaps in a way humanity itself is tired of the endless games of Godlikes persona who plays them like chesspieces. And Allen can be the embodiment of this choice to not play in fate’s hands again.

Who knows... it’s still a lot of unknown there. But i can see what you say though and I would see it happen. I guess we’ll see orz.

#sorry i'm a bit tired so it's all over the place #but yeah! o/#ichafantalks dgm #Anonymous #ichareply

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fortress-of-iserlohn · 7 years ago

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logh, 001 :)

KRISTA :D

sorry it took so long i didn’t realise i had an ask until today lmao. thanks tumblr. appreciate it.

LOGH!!!!!!!

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: YANG WENLI (then Reuenthal. then Schonkopf :D)

Least Favorite character: JOB FUCKING TRUNICHT

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): REUENTHAL/YANG (screams into the abyss). Schonkopf/Yang (PRECIOUS KNIGHT AND PRINCE PAIR). Bittenfeld/Oberstein (FIGHT ME). Mittermeyer/Evangeline (THEY ARE TOO PURE TM FOR THIS WORLD). julian/katerose (OH HEY ANOTHER CANON SHIP)

Character I find most attractive: UGH. WRY YOU DO THIS? dnt - schonkopf. every other incarnation - reuenthal

Character I would marry: see above. also. i would 1000000% marry bittenfeld if given the chance because i think he’d be HYSTERICAL to deal with

Character I would be best friends with: i would 100% party it up with any of the 13th fleet but i feel like i would get along super well with cazerne (i really appreciate his completely fed up older brother attitude combined with a coating of utter do not give a fuck) or mittermeyer (cos he’s a sweet dude and he would get along with EVERYONE including me XD)

a random thought: why is this show not more popular ??? why do i enjoy rarepairs ????? what is life ?????????

An unpopular opinion: i really can’t find it in myself to ship yang/frederica orz

My Canon OTP: Mittermeyer/Evangeline are precious babies and i will FIGHT ANYONE ON THIS

My Non-canon OTP: no one needs to ask this anymore right?????? REUYANG

Most Badass Character: Walter von Schonkopf - from the start til the end, no one is as cool or badass as schonkopf. (also no one is as desperate for yang’s attention as him either. be cool schonkopf, he’ll notice you one day :3)

Most Epic Villain: does the empire count as a villainous side? cos i’m not feeling villains in this show :3 (just the slow disintegration of society and the lure of absolute power for different reasons and corruption of human souls)

Pairing I am not a fan of: all the canon and popular ones?????????? I APOLOGISE. i tried twin pillars & kircheis/reinhardt but. i. just. can’t. do. it.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): i’m not deep enough to say??? but one of the plot points that didn’t really make sense were the earth cult and their ?????????? wtf-ery.

Favourite Friendship: YANG AND 13TH FLEET. they’d move heaven and earth to protect him and he would 100000% do the same and THEY ARE JUST PRECIOUS OK.

Character I most identify with: YANGGGGG - i also just want to drink tea, take naps and retire into obscurity with a cat named admiral LMAO

Character I wish I could be: UM. like literally anyone from the 13th fleet? i would be blessed with yang’s company and that is ALL I COULD ASK FOR????

#ask me #infiniterhapsody #krista you're the best <3

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acarnivalofstars · 7 years ago

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Amnesia Later: New World Prologue Part 1

Amnesia Later is the first fandisk for Amnesia and consists of several parts to the game, including New World and After Story. New World is basically an AU of sorts that focuses on a scenario where the MC is dating no one and the staff of Meido no Hitsuji make summer plans together. I’ve split the prologue into 2 parts for more easy reading (and workload on myself....) This first half focuses on giving a short recap of the game’s plot as well as introducing the cast.

Someone pray for me to have the willpower to translate the latter half orz

Special thanks to my friends @aphonicdreams and @dyinganddead for helping me with proofreading! Translation is under the Read More

August 10th

This was the story of a certain world, a certain country, a certain girl.

August 1st.

When the girl opened her eyes, she had lost all of her memories. Beside her was a mysterious boy named Orion who called himself a spirit. The spirit Orion told her that it was his fault she lost her memories. In accordance with Orion’s advice, who told her he would help her with anything in order to gain back her memories, the girl began to examine her surroundings…….

Eventually the girl’s relationships became clear, complicated and entangled intentions started to be seen, and the real reason why she had lost her memories.

----Orion had a flash of insight.

“I see now. Her losing her memories wasn’t due to me crashing into her!”

The organization members that appear before the girl desperately working to understand everything. The evil influences that stretch out their hands. Will the girl be able to retrieve her memories? What is the true reason she lost her memories? Will Orion be able to protect her?

Now then.

The fate of Orion and her is---?!

……….

Orion: Well, if it was that kind of story then it’d be nice!

Hey, good morning [MC]. Are you awake?

Huh? Are you still sleepy?

You did hold a strategy meeting with me up until late last night after all.

But to say something like “Who are you again…...?” right after waking up is a little harsh for being half-asleep, you know?

You seem to be a little out of it so I tried to summarize your current situation up until now in a simple manner.

What I talked about just now was an outline of what happened from August 1st up until today. I’m the spirit Orion. Do you remember now?

…….What’s with that face?

There was a part that was different from what actually happened? Eh~ Is that so? I thought it was pretty accurate to what happened though.

………..

That was a lie. I’m sorry.

There’s nothing like the evil influences of an organization or the truth of your amnesia at all.

It was just a simple accident. It’s all my fault.

Because I crashed into your soul, your memories went flying away.

What I said just now was my own desire!

Aah, it would be nice if there was an actual truth behind it, though.

If there was something going on behind your back, I would protect you and fight.

I’d use my wit and courage to guide you and protect you from a huge villain!

I can’t touch things in the human world, am invisible to any other people besides you, nor can I even talk to them, but…...

“Ah, someone’s following me…..! Orion, save me!”

“Leave it to me! I know the entire layout of this town! We’ll shake off the pursuer at the next corner!”

……..Just kidding.

Either way, in truth I can’t even do something like a personal background check for you. Hah…...the real world sure is harsh~.

→ I’m relying on you

If only you could talk to other people as well

Uuuuu, thanks~!

I might not be that useful right now, but I’ll work even harder!

I’m relying on you

→ If only you could talk to other people as well

Right?!

That way, I would be able to get information and go to dangerous places in your place.

I’d also be able to give a good talking to the guys who’re aiming for you!

Well, we can’t just gloom about. We have to do our best with what we can do.

What I can do for you now is support you so that you can carry out your lifestyle safely.

Hey, look. It’s the person correlation diagram you made yesterday.

Ever since you fell asleep last night, I’ve been looking at this myself and thinking.

After getting an idea of your condition up until yesterday, we managed to get a general understanding of your relationships with other people.

Your parents are absent since they live somewhere far away. You currently live alone, and you don’t have a boyfriend.

You’re particularly close to two childhood friends and have four acquaintances from work.

It’s not like you were caught in the middle of some accident, nor did you have a bad experience of being bullied by some vicious female group.

And it doesn’t seem like your life is being prowled after by some guy with a tragic fate for some startling reason.

So, this is just my suggestion, but why don’t we try picking someone who seems reliable and ask them for help about your amnesia?

I think that’d be the best shortcut to getting your memories back and living a peaceful, normal everyday life.

For now you have work today. You sure seem to meet reliable people a lot.

While you talk to everyone, you should start thinking which person seems the most reliable once again.

And then, once you think “it’s this person!” the most, we’ll explain your current situation to them.

Ah, but we don’t know what might happen so be sure to be mindful of the situation, okay?

What do you think? Is it too risky? Well, let’s think about it carefully during work.

Alright, let’s change and head straight for work~!

???: …...Huh?

Hey, are you in the middle of heading to work? If so, aren’t you running late? If you keep going now you’ll barely make it in time.

I bet you fell asleep again, didn’t you? Fix that bad sleeping habit of yours. It’d be a pain if you came to a meeting place late or something.

Orion: Thank you oh so kindly for those harsh words to start off the morning.

I think you know already, but I’ll explain just in case. This guy is Shin. He’s your childhood friend.

He’s an unsociable guy, but he looks out for you in a lot of ways. ……..Though he’s a Spartan when it comes to training.

I think it’s alright to view him as someone we can trust in itself, so it might be good to consult him.

Shin: What are you spacing out for? Not even bothering to give me a reply is even more cruel than usual. Are you still half-asleep?

Orion: It’s not like that! We made sure to get plenty of sleep~

Shin: Why are there so many idiots around me?

It’s too much of a handful. ……...Everyone I deal with is so troublesome.

Orion: Hm…..? It sounds like he’s bothered by something.

I wonder if something happened. Or is this simply an idle complaint he has towards you?

→ I’m sorry for being slow

Did something happen?

Shin: What are you apologizing for all of a sudden? I don’t get it.

Orion: Ehh?! I-I mean, weren’t you just using a tone of voice meant to criticize her?! Am I wrong?

Shin: It’s not like I had a complaint towards you or anything so you don’t have to apologize.

You’ve been a handful since long ago so I’m not bothered by it.

Orion: I’m not following through at all. I’m just following into a dead end…...

Shin: Besides, you should hurry up and go. Otherwise you won’t make it in time.

I’m sorry for being slow

→ Did something happen?

Shin: When I woke up this morning my mom was in a panic because she had forgotten to buy rice and bread.

Since the rice is heavy she thought she’d leave it to me. Meanwhile, the store we always get bread from was closed due to a holiday.

Since she’s been nothing but perplexed this morning, I came here to buy the bread.

On top of that, she said convenience store bread is no good and that it had to be this store specifically here. Apparently she’s been gathering up points at this place.

What do you think of someone who causes trouble for others because of his or her personal mistake? I mean, I’ll still go to where she told me to.

Orion: Uh, um…….What would you think?

But despite him making a face like that, he still listened to her and went out. I guess Shin’s actually pretty kind?

Shin: Whether it’s you or my mom, why are you both so out of it? Isn’t it just inconvenient for yourself to be like that?

Orion: ……...Although he says too much.

Shin: Anyway, this isn’t the time to be standing around and chatting. You should go already. You don’t have time to waste, right?

Orion: Ah, he’s right.

Shin: See ya. Do your work seriously, okay?

Orion: Or so he says. While the same goes for work, we also have to work hard on gathering information!

Orion: Whew~ Just as Shin said, we barely made it. We might’ve been a bit sloppy while changing.

???: Good morning, [MC]

We seem to be meeting at the store quite a lot lately. Haven’t you been working 6 days in a row now? You seem to be working hard.

But you seem to be building up fatigue and coming here nonetheless. ……..Look.

Your headdress is tilted, but it seems like you haven’t noticed it at all. Do you mind if I fix it for you?

Orion: Stop right there! Don’t just close the distance between you two so swimmingly first thing in the morning!

This perverted monster here is your senior at work, as well as a 4th year college student, Ikki.

He’s ridiculously popular with girls to the point where it seems like a joke that he’s even got a fan club.

Anyway, if we just leave him be he’ll start getting even closer so give him some sort of a response!

→ I’ll fix it myself

Please fix it for me

Ikki: Do you not want me touching your hair? It’s not like I’ll take advantage of the situation and do something else to you, you know?

Orion: Saying a remark like that is already a hazard!

I’ll fix it myself

→ Please fix it for me

Orion: WHAAAAAAT?!

Ikki: …....How unexpected. I thought you would get embarrassed and run away. Does this mean you don’t view me in that sort of way?

Hmm~ …...If that’s the case then it’s a pity, but oh well.

You have such pretty hair. I’ve been thinking I’d like to touch it since long ago…...

???: Stop right there, Ikkyu.

Orion: This voice is…..!

???: Don’t get any closer to her. Even if the manager may forgive your acts of sexual harassment in this holy workplace, I, however, will not.

Ikki: There he is, the mysterious statistics-loving Mad Kent!

Orion: What’s with that introduction?!

This guy is Kent. He’s also a senior at your workplace and seems to be a graduate student at Seichi University.

Ikki called him a mysterious statistics-loving guy, but in truth he really does come off that way. He’s kind of like the embodiment of numbers and theories.

Kent: I won’t allow such shameless behavior to take place before my very own eyes, Ikkyu…..!

Ikki: Oh? By what right do you have to get in my way, Ken?

Kent: If it’s a right you want then I have one. For you see, the victor of Puzzle No. 500 that I presented you the other day is me.

Losers should obey winners. That is a formality of this world which has been proven through history. As such, I have a right to interfere with you.

Ikki: Eh…...No way, was the score result bad enough to make you say an announcement like that, Ken?

Kent: You got 68 points. Well, I also had a feeling I raised the difficulty level too high since it was a commemorative 500th puzzle.

Next time I’ll make it slightly easier. There’s no point in giving you a puzzle that can’t be cleared.

Ikki: You better not do that. If you go easy on me it’ll just make me weak. You should come at me with everything you’ve got.

Kent: Oh, is that so? If that’s the case then for Puzzle No. 501 I’ll make it the hardest one you’ve ever seen until now.

Ikki: I’ll also attack you with all I’ve got. It’s not in my nature to be beaten by someone, you see.

Orion: …….So these guys have given and solved up to 500 puzzles between the two of them. They sure aren’t tired of it.

As you can see, Ikki and Kent are super close.

Both parties have parts of them that aren’t exactly normal per se, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t people that can’t be trusted.

There’s also the possibility that we consult the two of them as well. In that case, rather than just choosing one of them it might be better to ask them together……

Ikki: By the way. [MC], so what are you going to do about that headdress in the end?

Do you want me to fix it? Or do you want Ken to fix it?

Orion: You’re bringing the conversation back to that?! And we have to choose from the two of them?!

→ Ask Ikki to do it

Ask Kent to do it

Ikki: Got it. Come over here.

…….Is this the first time I’ve ever gazed at you so closely?

If you were to become my captive after this I’d be happy…...How about it? Does it still not work on you?

Orion: Um…….You’re just fixing her headdress, right?!

Kent: You must also have bad taste, [MC].

It’s not as if there was a need for you to willingly jump into the tiger’s den.

Ask Ikki to do it

→ Ask Kent to do it

Kent: …….What? Are you asking me to fix a woman’s hair ornaments? That sort of thing is impossible for me. I refuse.

Orion: I figured he would say something like that…….

Ikki: She nominated you to do it, so why don’t you fix it for her? After all, she did pick Ken over me.

Orion: And this guy’s sulking!

Kent: Besides, touching the hair of a person of the opposite sex can be considered an act of sexual harassment. You don’t like it when I touch you after all, no?

Ikki: Isn’t it because she doesn’t dislike it that she asked you? Or is it that you dislike it, Ken?

Kent: N-no……..That isn’t the case, but, however…….

???: It seems you’re all quite excited over something.

Ikki: Waka-san. Good morning.

Kent: Good morning.

???: Good morning. Is this everyone for today? I am very pleased to see that you’ve all assembled together on time. ……..Hm?

Your headdress is sliding off, [MC]. You should go take a look at yourself and fix it. We shall continue this conversation afterwards.

Orion: So he says. Let’s go, [MC]!

How is it~? Did you fix it? …...Yup, all good. Alright, OK!

That person just now is the manager of this store.

Everyone refers to him as Waka-san. At his core he’s a nice person but…….

……..Just why on earth does he always have a bamboo sword hanging by his waist.

Waka: That was quick. Well then, let us continue the conversation. Today I shall be working in the kitchen. Can the two of you handle the front by yourselves? Ikki, [MC].

Ikki: No problem. It’s not like it’s during the middle of the fair so the two of us can keep alternating.

Waka: Well then, Kent. Would working in the kitchen be alright? It seems you came early today to prepare the ingredients.

Kent: About that, manager. I’d like to shed light on a problem around here.

Waka: A problem?

Kent: In place of the fresh basil you ordered for, a large amount of dried basil has been delivered instead.

We used up all of the fresh basil yesterday. As such, we cannot create the pesto sauce for today’s pasta.

Waka: What……?! Instead of fresh basil, we received dried basil you say……?!

Kent: The same thing occurred just last Monday. I believe you apologized for this after messing up repeatedly as a result.

I don’t doubt that you feel responsible for this, but to have the same mistake occur twice in a row is quite painful.

Even if we were to go out to buy fresh basil right now, by the time we return it would be 5 minutes after opening. As such, I would like to inquire as to how we should decide to resolve this.

Waka: ………

Ikki: ……...Manager?

Waka: To think that I…...over the course of 2 weeks would pile mistake after mistake on top of one another…….! How could…….How could I allow such a thing to happen!!

This is an unforgivable offence as a store manager…….Since it has come to this, I shall slit my stomach as repentance!

Orion: His stomach?!

Ikki: Stop, manager! You can’t even cut a stomach with a bamboo sword anyway, and even if you could it’d be a problem.

Kent: Indeed. After all, the manager of this store is you. So to exactly whom are you apologizing?

Waka: However, to have the manager of all people make a mistake regarding the contents of an order is an eternal disgrace!

The only way to wipe out such shame is to slit my belly…..!

Ikki: Like we just said, this is modern-day Japan. This is a cafe. This isn’t Edo Castle nor the Pine Hallway.

Please quit that bad habit of jumping to commit seppuku so quickly, seriously.

Kent: Anyhow, I wish to replace today’s pasta with a different menu. Using the small amount of peperoncino we have seems reasonable to me.

I took the liberty of making use of those ingredients. Although it wasn’t much preparation, honestly. Is that alright with you, manager?

Waka: …...I’m in your debt. I’m greatly obliged by your consideration.

Ikki: Well then, since that’s settled…...Shall we open up Meido no Hitsuji?

Orion: Alright, Table 6 is all clear!

Whew~ It sure is a pain when someone orders the “Stew of the Day.” The pot’s hot and heavy after all.

If his hands are free Ikki will carry it for us, but we can’t rely on him to do that for us every time.

…….But just why on earth does a cafe have a “Stew of the Day”? Does that even make sense?

Whoops, it’s another customer! Welcome back, Mas…….Ah.

???: Good work today. Are you working hard?

???: ‘Sup! Looks like you and Ikki are in charge of the front today.

???: Hello, Senpai. I’d like a window seat, please.

Orion: Eh. T-This is kinda an odd group of people……

I think you remember them but I’ll give some supplementary info anyway. This guy here…….

???: What’s wrong? You’re spacing out. Has your low blood pressure gotten worse?

Just because you live alone doesn’t mean you can live a careless lifestyle. If your health starts to fail as a result then you’ll regret it.

Orion: The one who acts like a grandma is Toma. He’s a caring person and often looks out for you.

He’s one year older than you, and he’s also your childhood friend. Together with Shin, the 3 of you were raised like siblings to one another apparently.

Then, this person here……

???: Is that based off your own personal experience, Toma?

They do often say that catching a cold and becoming helpless as you lie in bed is the very first hurdle of living alone.

Orion: This girl is Sawa. She’s in the same year as you, and it seems she’s a friend you go out with on days off.

She can be a little careless at times, but I think she’s a good person.

???: Eh~ But doesn’t Toma live close to his parents’ house?

If that’s the case then he could just head back there whenever he caught a cold and relax, no?

Orion: This girl is Mine. She’s one year below you so she’s a 3rd year high school student. She’s a little selfish, but you can also call her an honest girl in a sense.

All 3 of them are part of the Meido no Hitsuji staff. And for the most part, everyone who works here generally get along with one another.

That’s why on the contrary, picking just one person to consult with is pretty difficult…….

Toma: There’s no way I could return to my parents’ house if I caught a cold. My parents wouldn’t spoil me like that.

They let me live on my own so I could be able to start an independent lifestyle, so dealing with colds and such is also part of self-responsibility.

Sawa: Yikes~.......That sounds rough.

Mine: So does that mean your parents don’t intervene in your affairs at all, Toma?

Toma: Yup. As long as nothing big happens, I’m pretty much left alone. Thanks to that I can pretty much do whatever I want, but……

Whoops, standing here and chatting would just disrupt business. Let’s continue this convo after we give our orders.

Mine: Got it~ Then we’ll just go ahead and sit wherever we like, okay~

Sawa: This’ll probably end up being a long talk so let’s go to the corner!

Mine: But I wanted a window seat~.......

Orion: A long talk? …….I wonder what they came to talk about.

Ikki: Good work so far.

Orion: Oh, Ikki. I guess he’s done serving customers over there.

Ikki: Seems like an odd group of people has arrived. It isn’t every day you see Toma grouped with 2 girls.

Have you finished taking their orders? Not yet, huh. Then maybe I should head over to where the 3 of them are and take their orders while saying hi.

Female Customer: Excuse me, I’d like to order now.

Ikki: …... Whoops…….I was also in charge of the customer over there.

Sorry, can you go give them my greetings in my stead? …….At your service. Please wait a moment, my lady.

Orion: So he says. Alright, let’s go to take their orders.

I’m also curious about the subject of their long talk.

Sawa: I really do think we’d find them at a riverbank, though.

Mine: So does that mean lakes and stuff are out? Like reservoirs?

Sawa: I think rivers would be the most standard place.

Mine: Eh~ Then where did you find them last year? I wasn’t there so I wouldn’t know.

Sawa: That’s…...Umm…….Where did we find them again?

Toma: It was by the promenade. But there’s some soil preparation going on around there so it might be impossible to go there.

Sawa: Eh, really?

Toma: After the heavy rain a lot of sand was blocking up places so they’re trying to make both the middle of the river and the spaces around it as thoroughly clean as possible, apparently.

Due to the change in environment, I’m not sure if we’ll be able to expect finding them there this year.

Mine: Then what should we do? Should we just go to the mountains then?

Sawa: Ooh, mountains sound nice! Staying in a lodge! Camping! Barbeque! Oh, but you also can’t forget about curry.

Mine: Sawa, you’re slipping away from our objective.

Sawa: But if we’re gonna go to the mountains it’s best if we have fun through various ways, right? There’s gonna be a lot of people after all.

Mine: Hm~......But wouldn’t Shin dislike this sort of thing? I feel like he’d make a stink face at the mention of a barbeque or something.

Toma: That guy’s not as much of an individualist as he appears, so I think he’ll tag along.

He might not actively take part in the conversation, but he enjoys being in the middle of a group of people having fun.

But still, going to the mountains might be difficult. We won’t be able to return on the same day.

Mine: Eh~ So we can’t?

Toma: You’re a high school student as well as preparing to take exams so staying overnight is a no-go. Maybe next year.

Mine: …….Toma is so strict.

Toma: I’m the overseer after all so I have to be in regards to that.

And besides, it’s not like I’m kind in the first place.

Sawa: Uwah, he said it himself. …...Well, we did say we were gonna go on a day trip this time around.

Orion: Is this about a trip or something? Do you have plans to go hang out somewhere on a day trip……?

Toma: Whoops, sorry [MC]. You came to take our orders, right?

I’ll have the house blend…...Scratch that, I’ll have the cafe au lait. What about the 2 of you?

Mine: I’ll have a cinnamon milk tea.

Sawa: Today Kent’s in the kitchen, right? Then I’ll have a matcha latte.

Mine: Why’d you ask that?

Sawa: Kent’s super good at making latte’s. Shin and the manager are good too, but it’s like he’s even above that.

Toma: Oh yeah, he always talks about the blending ratio of matcha to milk or like the temperature or even the theory of the foam on top.

Orion: The theory of foam……?

Mine: …...Hey, that’s right. Say, Senpai. Where do you want to go?

Orion: Eh?! …...W-What are they talking about?

Sawa: Ah, that’s right. You’re the leader after all so why don’t you pick?

Orion: The leader?! Did [MC] have plans to join too?! And on top of that you’re the leader apparently…...Eeeeeeeeh.

We don’t know anything! W-What should we do……?!

→ Anywhere’s fine

Toma should choose

Mine: Anywhere’s fine, you say……

Toma: There, there. If you suddenly bring up the topic to her, I’m sure [MC] would be flustered.

Anywhere’s fine

→ Toma should choose

Mine: Eh~ What’s with that. You sure do rely on Toma a lot, Senpai.

Sawa: But it’s not like it’s unexpected, right? She did say they’ve been like siblings since long ago.

Toma: Aside from whether or not I spoil her, if it’s okay for me to choose then I’ll pick where to go, but…...Is that alright with you?

Orion: If you could do that for us it’d be a big help…...Right, [MC]?

Toma: Then I guess I’ll search around on the Internet. If we’re going to go somewhere I picked then I’ll have to be thorough in my research.

It would suck if I took you all to a disappointing location after all.

Mine: Uwah, Toma is so soft. When we gave our input, all you said to us was “I wonder about that.”

Toma: Her and Shin are like my family after all. I tend to look after them more than what’s necessary.

Thanks to that Shin calls me irritating, and lately even [MC] has been acting oddly distant from me.

But anyway, it’s been awhile since I’ve been relied on so Big Brother will do his best.

If I can’t find a good place within the neighborhood then we’ll have to go a bit further out. That’s okay with you, right?

In case we go somewhere far, have you all been saving your part-time earnings properly? Well, I’m sure at the very least a one-way ticket would only be a few thousand yen.

Sawa: It’s OK with me! …...Probably.

Mine: Of course. I’m pretty serious when it comes to saving money.

Toma: You’re okay too, right [MC]? You did tell me last month that’s why you’ve been coming in to work so much.

Orion: Eh, really?! I did think you had a lot of shifts but it was for that reason?!

Even though it’s determined you guys will be going somewhere, it also seems like there’s some goal in mind. Just exactly what is it though……?

#amnesia #amnesia memories #amnesia (game)#otomate #otome game #karen tries to translate

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ultravioletsoul · 8 years ago

Text

Vergil x F!Reader - Devil May Cry Part 3

Wow, it has been a while hasn't it? D: time flies by but I'm back with a continuation of the fic, at long last. You surely have realized that it takes me time to post stuff, but the good thing is that my chapters aren't short, so make yourself comfortable and be prepared for a lengthy read. I'm still trying to finish a lot of projects I have pending but… eh, gotta admit video games have been distracting me. Also, life gets in the way orz.

I want to take a moment to thank the readers for keeping me motivated to write mor! Your support means a lot to me. A special mention to my dear baes Lucia and Lala and thanks for reading my drafts, drawing art, and overall putting up with my inner fangirl ;u; love ya~. And to angeljasiel, too, who has been waiting for a continuation of this fic. I so hope I won’t disappoint you orz

Warnings: Unbetaed work. Slow burn. OCs. English is not my first language.

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Part III: Unexpected Meeting

It was difficult to tell for how long you slept the restless slumber of those who wander between worlds. You weren't certain of what had happened, either, though your mind vaguely recalled the coldness of blue waters and the shadow of fear that had gripped and almost crushed your soul. The memories were blurry, as though a veil had been draped over your eyes, and you could barely make sense of the bizarre images that lingered.

Amid those recollections was that of a faceless being, whose identity kept eluding you despite how much you strained to see. You simply could not, as the light that enveloped them was too incandescent and it always forced you to close your eyes tight. Perhaps those of your kind weren't meant to see the gentle face of the Savior. Maybe it was too sacred for a mere mortal such as yourself to behold, but you were content to be cradled in his arms like a small child so you didn't protest or resist.

Though part of you argued that this vision you'd conjured to allay your fears was too good to be true, another just wished to believe it was all real. A strange sense of peace had touched your soul, and you allowed it to envelop you in its gentle wings, as you felt your body drift to a place far away— carried by the waves of time and space.

As your surroundings morphed into a familiar setting, all of sudden a memory resurfaced and came back to life right before your own eyes. You found yourself inside a picture of the past, somehow; a little girl again, wearing colorful frilly dresses and ringlets with ribbons on your hair. But it wasn't the happiness of childhood that you were reliving with innocent zeal— days of reverie amid dolls, tea parties, and fairy tales. Instead you were standing by the door of your father's chambers, gazing upon his emaciated pale face as he lay immobile in bed. His grey eyes had rolled to the back of his skull, and his features drew a hideous grimace of fear that the rosy foam coming out of his mouth couldn't conceal. He had suffered before his death, and no one had been present to help him or even accompany him in his journey to the other side.

The baron had been ill for a long time, and nothing the doctor of your family did appeared to improve his unyielding condition. You were too young to understand, back then, that he was living on borrowed time. His last days, he was confined to bed and you kept him company during the afternoons after you were done with the lessons of your tutors.

He was an affectionate man, and you'd been happy by his side. Your father had been the one to encourage your imagination and allowed you to be just a child— allowed you to be yourself above all things. He used to tell you stories before going to bed, and he always was patient with your endless questions on even the silliest topics you could think about. Your curiosity, he once said, was something that one day would get you in trouble but he still humored you the way any loving father would.

Sooner rather than later, however, his health deteriorated despite your best expectations. He tried to hide his ailment from you, of course, but you sensed his suffering and noticed the changes in him. No longer the same man with a long life ahead of him, his complexion had become ash-colored— almost nearing a faint shade of blue— and his skin was most of the time covered in a layer of sweat. He was less alert to the world around him, as though he had little interest in it, and he stopped telling you stories when his shortness of breath became too much to bear. Then came the terrible coughing fits and the horror in his gaze when he saw the white handkerchief in his hand was stained with blood. After that disturbing event, you weren't allowed to visit his chambers anymore. Those were Agnese's orders, supposedly for the reason that he needed his rest to get better. When you grew up, you chose to believe that maybe she wanted to spare you from the sight of him in such a miserable state.

Being kept in the dark about this matter scared you, even more so when Agnese didn't even attempt to approach and give you reassurance. You thought that maybe she needed space to deal with the situation on her own but, still, a word of comfort would have sufficed. Nanna tried to keep you content saying father would get well; however, she had only fed you false hopes that in the end withered your confident optimism, and you came to the harrowing realization that life was not a fairy tale where people got to live happily ever after. You'd always thought that such a thing was possible, but it was only mere wishful thinking on your part.

That afternoon, you heard the commotion the maid had stirred when you were making your way to visit him— a crown of white and pink carnations in your hands. So innocent was the mind of your old self, who actually believed she could cheer up an afflicted soul with such trivial gifts. Yet, despite this gullible mindset, you knew he would have smiled at you and, maybe, you regretted not having seen that for a last time. Perhaps, deep down, you were only seeking reassurance in the face of the inevitable and, in your attempts to comfort him, it was you the one who wanted to be consoled.

You weren't supposed to visit him in his condition but you really wanted to see your father, and if you pretended to nap then Nanna would leave you be for a while. Then you could take this opportunity to sneak out of your bedroom, unnoticed. If only you had known what would be waiting for you at the end of this seemingly adventurous trip.

The you from many years ago didn't have the same fears or concerns so, in a manner of speaking, you were oblivious to this foreseen conclusion. Or maybe you knew it all along and, instead, preferred lying to yourself for the simple reason you couldn't accept that your time with him was being stolen. But that day the blindfold on your eyes fell and you were forced to face the truth you had dreaded for so long.

Without a second to spare the woman had taken off running past you, screaming and wailing as she made haste down the corridor. Overwhelmed by an ever growing hysteria, she barely noticed your presence and you felt a chill on your skin at the deafening silence that lingered afterwards. You only heard the quiet shuffle of your footsteps and the sound of your breath as you approached your destination, uncertainty and fear clouding your mind. And yet it was all clear to you when the sight that would haunt you many nights after that day left you paralyzed. Your emotions were muddled and you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him, in spite of your desperate wish to do so.

You could have stood there until the end of time, for all you knew, but at some point a hand gently squeezed your shoulder and someone called your name. Startled at the intrusion, you turned to the source of the voice and then you were gazing into Nanna's grieved face.

"Come with me, (Y/N)," she said, above a whisper, and your heart ached when her eyes betrayed the promises she had made.

You flinched and gulped the lump in your throat. It didn't matter what you said. Nothing could change the truth or what you felt, yet your mind kept denying it— refusing to accept the fact that your father was gone, and you would never see him again.

"He is not breathing." The words left your lips in a hurtful reproach, and Nanna shook her head when you attempted to look at his lifeless body again. Holding your cheek, she forced you to divert your gaze away from such a wretched sight, but it was already burned into your memory despite her futile attempts to make you unsee or forget. Did she not understand this?

"No, don't," she pleaded, taking you in her arms and pressing your face against the crook of her neck. "For the love of the Savior, someone cover the baron's face!"

"With all due respect, Ms. Bellini, you should take her away. The knight captain and I need to handle this matter with utmost care in the face of this unfortunate event. The demise of a parent is not something that a child should witness, either way."

"You don't have to remind me of that, Dr. Leoni, but I do hope that you would at least have the sensitivity to speak about it in front of her."

"You're not protecting her by hiding the truth."

"And I presume you have quite a lot of expertise in that area, right?" Nanna's voice was dripping with derision, though you couldn't understand the reason of her animosity— not yet, at least.

"What are you trying to say? I'm warning you, Ms. Bellini, I will not tolerate this offense on my personal and professional integrity!"

"Please, ma'am, doctor, this is not the time or the place to argue," said the knight captain in an effort to stop the altercation between Nanna and the doctor. "Let us not forget that, right now, we have a situation at hand that demands our immediate attention. Ma'am, I suggest that you take your leave with the young miss and refrain from interfering in our work, otherwise I shall have the knights remove you from this room. Believe me, it is not my wish to go to those lengths but I will have no other choice if you prove to be difficult."

Nanna's shoulders tensed and, for a long time, you wondered if her silence had meant to convey secrets that she didn't dare speak. The answer to this question eluded you, and you never considered to pursue it any further as you grew up in the fake contentment that sheltered you from this reminiscence. Even if you had asked her about it, Nanna would have probably told you that the past should remain where it belonged— that one shouldn't try to understand it but to accept it happened and couldn't be changed.

If only it were that easy to leave it behind, then you wouldn't be prisoners of the past. Humans wouldn't live enslaved to their memories, in a desperate attempt to find meaning to their existence however small or ephemeral it was.

As Nanna carried you in her sturdy arms, she walked away without another word. At that moment, you crumbled under the weight of this overpowering turmoil that gripped viciously at your heart. It was a pain that made you sick in the soul, and the aftermath of this misfortune brought naught but sleepless nights and nightmares when you were forced into a state of slumber— trapped in a world of horrors with no way to escape.

"Where is the baroness?" Nanna asked, doing very little to conceal her frustration at that point.

"She is reunited with her guests at the moment, and I'm afraid she won't be available for some time," came the squeaky voice of one of the maids that had tagged along. You could tell the young woman was distressed by the whole situation, as she struggled to keep an even tone in her voice. "We have already informed her of this... incident and she ordered we handle it with discretion."

Did she not care, at all? Her husband had just set fort on his journey to the afterlife and Agnese didn't seem to be concerned about it. Was she not even the slightest affected at these news? You didn't dwell on those thoughts, however, being too distraught by your own suffering and loss. Maybe you'd been selfish and self-centered, believing your misfortunes were the most tragic mankind had ever seen.

The closest experience you had with death until then had been when your grandfather passed away. Therefore, mortality wasn't a concept strange to you and you possessed a basic understanding of this ultimate fate. While you didn't actively seek to delve deeper into such topics, you had observed this undeniable truth in the smallest things of nature, even before you could reach a definitive conclusion. Humans weren't meant to last, and it proved to be the greatest irony of life that left you baffled— being born just to perish.

Your father had once explained that this existence was temporary, a flame that eventually faded, and you only were birds of passage in this world. There couldn't be death without having lived, and all that mattered was how people used the time that was given to them— how much they loved, and the decisions they made regarding how they chose to live. This was what Sparda taught humans, and so long as you were at peace with yourself there was nothing to fear nor regret in the end.

Grandfather fell asleep one night and never woke up. You were told that the Savior had called upon him, to the Fields of the Blessed— a place where there was no suffering, illness or death. Seeing him with such a serene expression on his face, as he lay in his coffin during his funeral, made you believe that he was in a better place and it helped you accept his parting.

However, you weren't so quick to find consolation when it was your father's turn to breathe his last.

Burying your tear-stained face on Nanna's shoulder, you asked her why did she lie to you if she knew that this would happen. Her silence spoke louder than words could ever have, as she carried you to the bedroom, and you cried that you hated her. Your words were cruel, and you were certain that even after many years they still affected her— something you regretted— but you were unable to stop them.

The flower crown slipped from your hands and lay discarded on the floor, much like your hopes. In your ignorance and unwillingness to see reason, you'd blamed others and opted to enclose yourself inside a shell of resentment and self-pity. Your heart had burned with anger at Sparda's inability to save someone you loved, not realizing that it wasn't his doing that you suffered neither was he to blame for the grievances that afflicted you.

He had already played his part in the salvation of mankind, bearing the heavy burden of a calamity its Great Sin had caused several millennia ago. When the kings of old and the greatest worshipers of evil, blinded by their mindless ambitions of power and a desire to live among their gods, sought to merge the human and demon realms, they released forces they weren't prepared to face. They brought destruction and darkness to the world, new home to their demonic rulers, and humans cried tears of blood.

Sparda could have left them all to die for their faults; after all, the wrath that poured from the heavens was of their own making. Anyone could have said that it was only fair their destiny should be to disappear, be erased from the memory of time, but he thought none of that. Even when he was a demon himself, a being humans should all fear and hate, his ability to feel compassion and love for someone else was unique and unprecedented in his kind. His love and justice revealed the path to redemption in a long perilous journey, and humans praised their father that came to their aid when they needed it the most.

The Savior had done too much for his children, surrendered his home and made himself a traitor among his brethren— lived a life of endless battles to ensure your race thrived in a new era, and that the terrible events of the past never transpired again. In his absence, humans had to learn to bear the burden of their own struggles as they patiently waited for his return.

It was during a spring afternoon that your father passed away. When the seeds that had been lying dormant beneath the earth sprouted after the freezing winter, the flowers bloomed and life flourished again, you had to bury him.

This wasn't something you wished to see. Why would your mind evoke reminiscences like these ? Instead of being trapped in these memories, you wanted to go back to that place of happiness that was your retreat as a child— a world of vivid colors and streams that glittered under a blue sky. Your playground in dreams, you called it once, where you could be at peace. However, it wasn't long before a drastic disruption of your serene and comforting musings sent you into a state of alienation, as you attuned your mind to the voices of a world that seemed to be foreign— not part of you, and neither you a part of it. An angry voice clamored, then, and your heart clenched at the panic that began to overwhelm you.

"How could you let this happen, Giovanna? I trusted you would take care of my daughter, that you would be with her at all times, and she nearly dies! Why did you take her to that fair? Why weren't you keeping an eye on her?"

"Forgive me, my lady. I looked away for a second and, when I called for her, (Y/N) had vanished without a trace! I couldn't find her anywhere, despite my best efforts."

"Your failure is inexcusable, and you know it. If it was not for the fact that you looked after me when I was a child, I would have you kicked out of this house immediately!"

It was Agnese's voice, without a shadow of a doubt, and you could practically see her fume with rage as she berated Nanna. You realized that it was your fault she was on the receiving end of Agnese's wrath though, for some reason, you still couldn't recall the events that had transpired and this only served to confuse you even more. The idea that you had almost died terrified you to the core of your soul, but you wondered if this wasn't merely an illusion meant to deceive you— another nightmare that tormented you without end.

The knight captain spoke.

"A young man happened to pass by and saved miss (Y/N) from drowning just in time, before we had to lament severe consequences. Would you not agree he deserves some kind of compensation, my lady? After all, he came to the rescue of your only child."

"Who is this youth you speak about? Send for him, at once. I would like to meet him personally. Let no one say that the baroness is not generous with those who gain her favor."

Drowning...

Yes, you remembered the blue waters and the light of the sun above as you were dragged deeper and deeper into the darkness. Flashes of that desperate moment resurfaced, and you could even recall the horror of long cold limbs around your body. You still heard the screeches and growls of a terrible monster that had lured you into its trap, with the sweetest voice you had ever heard in your life.

That morning you had lost your way home, and your wandering steps had taken you to the quay.

The images that played after what you considered would be your demise were still blurry, darkened, preventing you from seeing what had really happened. There was another monster, that much you could tell, but no trace of your supposed savior. They said he was a only young man, not the Lord as you'd expected— wishful thinking on your part, you realized. Yet again, part of you feared that the insanity had returned and you were witnessing your mind falling to pieces. However, you knew better than to trust these visions, as they weren't always a reliable reflection of the truth but, then again, what did they exactly mirror?

Thankfully, the voices faded and you were alone in your own little world. Beautiful flowers of a kind you'd never seen before surrounded you, their fragrance fresh and enticing— even more so than the most expensive perfumes ladies used to wear during celebrations. Tall trees with warm-colored leaves provided shade, and a soft breeze played with your hair as you chased after butterflies that led the way. You followed the stream, listening to the songs of birds and the gentle gurgle of waters, until you reached a cascade.

But then your world of happiness turned dark and bleak before your eyes as the ground trembled under your feet. The trees died, the flowers withered and the waters were tinted in red, leaving only a wasteland where frozen winds blew. Their coldness hurt, bit at your skin, and though you wrapped your arms around your body to retain some warmth, it did little to give you relief. You heard the skies roar and growl, then saw that their once vibrant blue had become a sickly shade of gray as a vortex of black corruption spiraled without end— tainting with its miasmatic essence what had once been a place of innocence and bliss.

You continued your journey, roaming a barren terrain of forgotten ruins without any destination or knowledge of where you were going. The words which could best describe this visage were, probably, valley of death. Yet it wasn't a typical picture where bones and skulls abounded, or serpents scurried away in search of prey. It was worse than that, in fact. Even in the most extreme deserts of the world some kind of life, however sparse it was, could thrive and be sustained. However, there was nothing here. Only endless desolation and the desperate howl of the winds.

Nothing could ever hope to survive in this place but, then again, none of this could be real.

It seemed that you'd been roaming aimlessly for ages, without any rest, until a weak light shone in the distance. Without a second thought, you approached— already affected by the despondency and loneliness that permeated this vision. When you were close to a group of ruins, you distinguished what seemed to be a woman and her presence unsettled you as much as it surprised you. At a first glance, she appeared to be wearing black robes but on a closer inspection you noticed she was also covered in some kind of black butterflies— or moths, you weren't sure. They flew around her, and you kept your distance as you debated whether you should talk to her or leave.

The torches that surrounded her were inverted and didn't offer any warmth, as you'd hoped. The woman was sitting all by herself, mourning her pain as she rocked an empty crib covered in dead flowers. Her sobs didn't stop even as you neared and, though you should have feared her, deep inside you only felt pity.

"Why do you weep, my lady?" you asked before you could ponder your actions any further, but something inside you wished to ease her pain. "What have they have done to you to cause so much grief?"

Her laments ceased and the woman finally took notice of your presence, though she didn't turn around. A pregnant silence followed and you began to doubt your choices, but then she replied with what appeared to be many voices all merged into a single one.

"Everything that I once loved was taken away from me. Now there is nothing left..."

"Who did this to you?" At your question, the woman— or illusion— hesitated for a moment.

"It was me." Her reply confused you. How could that be? "It is because of my sins that I suffer in this place. I did something unforgivable and, now, salvation is beyond my reach."

She faced you then, and you flinched at the darkness that was concealed beneath the black hood of her robes. There was an abyss of emptiness and sorrows, and her features were nonexistent.

"Begone, little one. There is no place for you here..."

When you opened your eyes, you had hoped to return to what you called— for a lack of a more appropriate term— the 'real' world. However, something was wrong. It took you a few seconds to get your bearings but, when you did, the first thing you noticed was that your bedroom looked very strange. Everything had been turned upside down and you could barely begin to comprehend what was going on when you saw poor Nanna sitting near your canopy bed, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. You tried to call for her but she wouldn't listen, and your situation started to make sense when you were confronted with the reason why she was so distraught.

Watching your body slumber didn't make for an appealing visage. You looked as though you were on your deathbed and, for a moment, you feared that you were actually passing away. If that were to happen, then you'd be trapped here in the other world with no way to return. With this concern in mind, you willed yourself to descend until your feet touched the ground and tried to get back into your body but it remained unresponsive.

Another memory resurfaced, and you knew you'd been in similar circumstances in the past. For this reason, you didn't want to stay here for longer than was necessary but, no matter how hard you tried, you were unable to regain control of your corporeal frame. You wished you could wake up and tell Nanna that you were alright, if only to ease her suffering. After all, you were the one to blame for what had happened. If only you'd done as you were told, then none of this would have happened in the first place. Many of your mistakes could have been prevented had you listened to your elders, but it was said experience was and would always be the best teacher in life. Learn something with pain and shame, and it was almost guaranteed that you would never forget it.

Approaching Nanna, you wrapped your arms around her and whispered in her ear that she had nothing to worry about— that you would soon get well and she would have the opportunity to nag you again for your imprudence. You said that you were sorry for making her cry and that you loved her. Soon enough she was fast asleep in the armchair, and you kissed her goodnight before curling in bed next to your body.

Perhaps you should have gone to visit Agnese that night, but you had no wish to see her. If she was still furious at what had transpired, then it was better to wait for her anger to subside. To be honest, maybe you feared to find whether she truly cared about you other than being an extension of herself, so you remained confined in your bedroom. At least, you felt safer in there.

You didn't sleep and neither did you have the need to do it. Watching the moon in the sky until the sun rose wasn't as tedious or grueling as you imagined, but it was alright. Your existence wasn't very exciting, to begin with, but you couldn't say you minded that much.

Time went by and you settled in a rather dull routine of watching yourself sleep, odd as that sounded. On occasions, you saw the doctor check on your constitution and heard him comment on your progress. The worst had passed, apparently, and you should regain consciousness very soon. However, very soon, in your state, felt like an eternity and sometimes you were worried that you'd never open your eyes— just like your grandfather.

The next day, you heard Agnese had visit and she seemed to be quite pleased with her guests. You had little idea of who they were, and neither could you be bothered to go downstairs. Surely, they were the same old gentry that came to see her often and bathed her in flattery to be in her good graces— nothing of particular interest to you, at least. Either way, you didn't feel like leaving your room in this condition. Instead, you found entertainment in lounging in the settee by the window as you listened to the gossip of two unsuspecting maids. They were cleaning your bedroom while Nanna was away at the chapel, no doubt praying for your quick recovery. At first, you hadn't paid any attention to them but their constant chattering eventually piqued your interest, since you had nothing better to do.

"I can't believe it. Oh, he's such a handsome young man! Wait, that's not the appropriate word to describe him because he's not conventionally attractive, is he? When you look at him it's like... gazing upon a fine artwork. Beautiful and divine," the youngest one, an attractive brunette girl whom you recognized as Ofelia, said with a dreamy sigh.

"Indeed." Though not as enthusiastic as her friend, you could hear some eagerness in the woman's voice but then she frowned. "Too bad he doesn't seem to be very friendly and lacks the manners of a well-bred man. Did you see the way he glared at me when I served him coffee? I thought he was going to put me six feet under! That's not someone I'd like to be friends with."

Ofelia snorted and gave her a look of mockery. "That's only because you got too close to him. Do you even have any sense of personal space, Leila?"

"Well, I don't think that's a valid reason to look at me as if I had insulted his mother!" Leila complained, and Ofelia just shrugged her shoulders.

"At least he's a sight for sore eyes. Can't begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to see more of him. My days should be more interesting now that he's here..."

The smile on her face was hard to miss and you arched an eyebrow at it. Just who were they talking about?

"I can agree on that but don't even think about flirting with him. He doesn't look like the type of man to be swayed by a mere flash of breasts or legs... unlike those knights you're used to allure into your bedroom."

You blushed at those words, then shook your head and tried to ignore what they had said. Despite what you'd been taught to think about 'women of loose morals', it was none of your business what this girl did or stopped doing in her spare time.

"Aw, you're no fun. I was hoping to get a little smile from him, at least."

"I'm only trying to warn you, before you make a fool of yourself. Getting your hopes high won't do any good. Men like him are creatures only meant to be admired from a safe distance. Beneath a pretty face, there usually lies something ugly and I have the feeling he can be very cruel when he wants to be."

"But he came to the rescue of miss (Y/N)!"

Ah, so this was about that man...

"True that, but I'd still tread carefully if I were you. Though I really doubt he'd be interested in a simple maid. I'm starting to wonder if he would even be interested in anyone , at all."

"Oh, thanks for ruining my joy," Ofelia said, rolling her eyes, and put on a pensive facade. "Now that you mention it, I wonder if he... you know, has particular interests and preferences."

The suggestion in her tone was curious, and you admitted it was quite amusing to see them so engrossed in their conversation concerning your savior— whose identity was still a mystery to you, though you weren't exactly in a hurry to meet him. After all, it was quite embarrassing being reminded of your mistakes, and how stupid you'd been to wander away, when you'd been told to be a good girl and obey. All that you knew about him was that he was supposed to be attractive— though you believed beauty was in the eyes of the beholder—, and that he seemed to be surly in the company of others.

"And you want to know because...?"

"Well, he's not very warm with women and looks a bit out of his element around them... even withdrawn. Now why would that be?" You wouldn't presume to be an expert in such matters, but you didn't think her reasoning was following any logic. Maybe you completely missed the point. It didn't matter anymore. "Or perhaps beneath that serious facade there's actually a closet pervert. You know what they say about the quiet ones. Wouldn't that be funny?"

Did she have to say that?

"You're overthinking this. I don't really care."

"Maybe you don't, but I do. Also I've noticed the lady seems to enjoy his company, despite his dour attitude." If it was true he wasn't very gifted in the ways of charm, then it was a wonder to you that Agnese could enjoy being in his company when she always craved honeyed words and deference from others. "Have you seen the look in her eyes? Do you think that she has taken—?"

"Shh, keep your mouth shut!" Leila urged with a fierce whisper, a look of dread crossing her features all of a sudden. "Are you daft?"

"What? It's not like I'm speaking lies. We know well the business she likes to do—!"

"We don't speak about that! The lady's business is her own and you should know better than to bring it up. If she hears you bad-mouthing like that, you'll be selling backside in the streets faster than you can say 'ah'."

What exactly were they arguing about? You surmised that they might have been referring to the independent spirit of a businesswoman that Agnese possessed. After all, as she owned a good portion of banking stocks and was proprietor of several important investments. Saying that Ofelia would have to resort to that kind of work had to be an exaggeration, but you knew that Agnese wasn't known for her kindness and compassion among her servants so they were terrified of their mistress.

"That's a little harsh, don't you think? Besides, who could possibly hear us?"

"What if the young miss does?" Leila looked at your direction— or the direction your body was, anyways. You snorted a little, trying to muffle your laughter whilst the woman eyed you with unease. What a surprise would it be if you told her that you listened to every word they had said. Probably not a good idea, however, lest you wanted people to spread rumors. Having them talk about the crazy daughter of the baroness wasn't something that would please Agnese, for sure. You didn't want a repetition of past nightmares, either, and you knew you wouldn't be treated kindly.

The two women argued some more and then left. Nanna appeared a while later and stayed in your room, reading an epic to Sparda and his glorious feats. Another of his most popular depictions showed him as a dark knight wearing a horned helmet, mounted on his white horse as he fought against a huge dragon-like beast. It was one of your favorite tales, when he saved a young maiden that was offered as sacrifice to appease the old god.

As you waited for her to turn a page, you peeked over her shoulder and soon realized that she'd fallen asleep again. With not much left to do, you returned to the settee and gazed at the stars of the night sky. When you were a child, you always tried to count them one by one but it was an impossible task that left you upset in the end— much to the amusement of your father.

There were occasions you missed those days when that was your greatest concern.

By the time the sun rose, you started feeling rather drowsy as your thoughts scattered and your vision faded. It seemed as if the world around you had vanished, and you were falling into the endless void.

When you woke up again, you were staring at the translucent white curtains of your bed. As the fog in your mind began to clear, and you came to realize that your stay in the other world had come to an end, a sudden pain afflicted your body when you tried to move. The room was still dark during the break of dawn, and it would have been silent had it not been for Nanna's constant snoring. At least she was by your side, so you couldn't complain about that.

"Nanna?" you groaned with a breathy whisper, hoping to get her attention. Another snore was your only response and, though you wished you could have spoken louder, your throat was parched and sore. Your next course of action was to crawl just a little and extend your hand towards her, until your fingers grazed her thigh and feebly tugged at her dress.

That worked, for sure. She jumped from her seat and squealed, sending the book on her lap tumbling to the floor. At first she didn't understand what was happening but, as soon as her eyes landed on you, Nanna breathed your name and practically threw her arms around your shoulders, kissing your forehead and cheeks.

"Oh, praised be merciful Sparda. He has heard my pleas!"

You'd been unconscious for a few days after your near drowning experience. The doctor came to do some examinations on you, first thing in the morning, and he administered antibiotics along with painkillers for the headache. Your prospect of recovery was, apparently, favorable given that you hadn't spent much time underwater. There would be some discomfort the first days but that was to be expected, and the fuzziness should eventually go away, or so he assured.

Despite your protests and embarrassment, Nanna insisted on feeding you. Of course you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself but, even after all these years, she still had a hard time accepting that you were no longer her little girl. You had to admit that, in many ways, you were a silly child who thought herself to be smart and you'd come to learn the dangers of a fool oblivious to their own ignorance.

"What... happened?" You weren't sure if you could trust your own senses anymore, so you wanted a reliable account from someone else.

"Do you not remember?" she asked with concern.

"A little..." You assured with a nod, trying not to panic her. "But it's all a blur."

"We visited the church to attend the morning mass, and then you asked me if we could have a look around the fair. On our way, we met Mrs. Pace by chance and congratulated her on the birth of her granddaughter. After that, I lost sight of you for a moment and you disappeared. I was hoping you could explain to me what happened, (Y/N). You had me so worried I thought I would go insane."

Again, you remembered this had been all your fault and looked down, unable to hold her gaze because you were too ashamed. "I'm really sorry for what I did, Nanna. It wasn't my intention to cause so much trouble for everyone. I just got distracted with a wedding parade and, when I was about to return, a sudden crowd gathered around me and I couldn't find you. Then I was dragged away. In the confusion I got scared and didn't know what to do."

"The knights searched for you high and low. How is it that you ended up at the quay?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I got lost trying to find the way back on my own. I know I should have asked for directions, but I didn't feel confident enough to do so."

"Do you remember what happened after that? How did you fall into the sea?"

You had no plausible explanation for this. What were you supposed to say? That you had hallucinated voices and followed them? Perhaps it would have been easier to tell her that a demon had attacked you, but what if that wasn't the way things had transpired? Should you not be on the brink of death, then? How could anyone survive such an encounter? You were certain it would be the end of your existence, yet... it felt like it had been just a bad dream.

"I... I can't recall very well," you mumbled timidly, hoping Nanna wouldn't see through your lie and how uncomfortable you felt.

"Were you alone?"

"Yes, I was." At the awkward silence that followed, you couldn't help but ask, rather hesitant, "was mother... too harsh on you?"

"Agnese was only worried about you. What matters now is that you are safe and will recover soon." She sighed and gave you a tired smile, petting your hair. Despite your concerns, her words put you at ease. "I know it was the hand of the Savior that young Aeneas happened to be nearby—"

"Aeneas?" You didn't know anyone who went by that name so, naturally, you were curious as to who she was referring. "Is he—?"

"The one who helped you, indeed."

"And what did he say?"

"He said that you seemed to have felt unwell all of a sudden because you fainted and fell into the water. Apparently, the handrail was rusty and in a bad shape so it gave under your weight when you leaned against it. Is that what happened, (Y/N)?"

There was no demon attack, then. It had been a figment of your imagination. No matter how real it felt, it was nothing more than an illusion of your mind. Were you even awake or was this just another dream? The idea terrified you.

"(Y/N)?"

Seeing no other escape, you nodded. "Yes. It all came to me now. I was not feeling very well."

She didn't look very convinced but the questioning stopped— for a while, at least. No doubt you'd have to give the knight captain an account of the events, so he could make a report on it for the record. Then everyone would move on and forget about this, for which you were grateful. To be honest, you couldn't wait for that to happen. After the embarrassment of the party, you were sure people believed you to be the girl who cried wolf.

But you could never imagine the wolf was closer than you thought.

You knew Nanna was worried about you, and she felt guilty for having let you out of her sight. Agnese had been furious at first— a reaction that was expected from her— but, somehow, her wrath had subsided and, though you couldn't understand why, you were glad that she was in a better mood.

One afternoon, when Dr. Leoni came to see how you were faring in your convalescence, you told Nanna that you wanted to go to the gardens. She didn't take long to try and make you desist.

"Are you sure you're feeling well to do that? You should rest some more."

"I am not dying," you replied with annoyance, before giving her an apologetic look. The day was warmer than you would have liked, and the heat was bothering you despite the ceiling fan spinning above. "Sorry. I would like to breathe some fresh air, that is all."

What you meant was that you wanted to get out of that room.

"Alright, but it depends on what the doctor recommends." Her words were curt as she spoke. For some reason, you always felt tension between Nanna and Leoni whenever they were in the same room— something that made you anxious. You asked Nanna about it on another opportunity but she told you that you were reading too much into it, and there was absolutely nothing wrong.

"You may go, yes, but don't be long. Otherwise, we're going to have a problem, young lady." The smile he gave you was a little unnerving, but you agreed to do as he said.

However, you needed a shower before anything. Your first apparition couldn't be in this unpresentable state and, when you were done, Nanna made sure that you looked your best. Thankfully you were spared the torture of corsets and, instead, were allowed to wear a simple chiffon dress.

"Oh, by the way, here's the hairpin you bought the other day. Would you like to wear it?" Nanna asked, once she had styled your hair.

You looked at the colorful butterfly in her hand and forced yourself to smile. "Yes, please."

"There..." She fastened the pin on your tresses and placed her hands on your shoulders, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. "All done, little sparrow. Now let us go outside."

"Hopefully mother won't mind that I want to take a little stroll."

"I don't think she will." There was some uncertainty and awkwardness in her voice but she quickly composed herself. "Don't worry. If Agnese is not pleased, we'll tell her that the doctor gave you permission."

You headed downstairs and, by the time you were midway, Nanna began to wish your bedroom wasn't at the top floor. She still had some pain in her joints and bones, so you had to make a few stops for her to rest. It made you feel guilty for having put her in so much distress during the past days, and you decided she would retire to her bedroom earlier that evening. The idea of Nanna exerting herself wasn't something you liked, so you would just sit in the gardens and have some refreshments. You had a mighty craving for something sweet.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of Agnese's laughter caught your attention and you were drawn to it— curious as to what was the cause of such manifest glee. But before you could take another step, Nanna held your arm and stopped you.

"What's wrong?" you asked her, confused, but she only gave you a worried look and shook her head.

"We should probably be on our way and not bother your mother. She's busy at the moment with a guest."

You considered her advice, but this was Agnese who you were talking about. "Would it not be better to let her know I am not in bed? I don't think mother will appreciate being ignored. Besides, I haven't been the most obedient child as of late, and it would be best to make amends after what happened."

Despite her protests, you approached the sitting room from where Agnese's voice came. The door was ajar, and you took this chance to catch a glimpse inside. Agnese was sitting in a sofa with the biggest smile on her face, something that struck you as odd. You also noticed she was in the company of a man, but you couldn't see him very clearly from where you stood as he was facing away. However, you could distinguish that he was of old age due to his white hair. Though you had little idea of who he could be, it didn't escape your attention how pleased Agnese appeared to be.

Whilst you tried to decide what to do, your presence hadn't gone unnoticed.

"(Y/N)?" called Agnese, startling you. Given the confounded expression she wore, she wasn't expecting to see you but you couldn't detect any signs of upset coming from her. Throwing a glance at Nanna, in an attempt to call for her aid, she nodded and encouraged you to go forth.

"I'll be waiting for you, little potato," came her whisper.

You snorted under your breath, trying to muffle your laughter, but pretended to be irked and glared at Nanna for calling you that. This, of course, made Agnese arch an inquisitive eyebrow at the scene and you cleared your throat with awkwardness before stepping inside.

"Good afternoon, mother." It was embarrassing enough to be caught eavesdropping— even though you didn't hear much of their conversation. Running away would make you look even worse.

"What a pleasant surprise!" As she fiddled with the fan in her hands, you couldn't help but take in the slight flush on her cheeks. Looking back, perhaps you were the only person who believed it might have been the heat of summer affecting her. "Should you not be in bed, my dear?"

"I wanted... to go outside and the doctor gave me permission."

"Oh, is that so? Well, it doesn't matter either way. Come here, my child." She extended her hand in your direction and beckoned you to draw near. "Since you're here, I would like you to meet a very special guest."

You did as you were told and approached Agnese with uncertainty, your gaze drifting to said visitor in the room. When you entered his line of vision, the man turned his head slightly to observe you from his seat and then you stopped dead in your tracks— breath catching in your throat when you had the chance to behold his countenance for the first time. Your initial assumptions had been wrong all along, for he wasn't an elder as you'd thought. On the contrary, he couldn't be a day over his twenties despite the unusual color of his hair.

No doubt he was the young man Ofelia and Leila were talking about. For a moment you were taken aback, due to your unexpected findings, but you composed yourself— though uneasiness still churned in your stomach.

Once you stood by her side, you were able to have a better look at his features. They were sharp but not harsh to the eye, sporting high cheekbones with a strong jaw. His hair was styled in a slicked back fashion, giving him a more mature air as it accentuated his serious expression. It probably made him look older than he was.

"This my beloved daughter, (Y/N)," Agnese spoke, holding your hand in hers whilst petting your hair— to your utter confusion. This wasn't her usual behavior, but you wouldn't question her actions or contradict her. In truth, it made you happy that she cared and in return you offered a tiny smile, knowing that she wasn't mad at you despite your error in judgment. "This is Aeneas, my dear; the man who had the kindness to see to your safe return. I know you've already met, in rather dire circumstances... unfortunately. However, I thank the Savior that he was there to deliver you from certain death."

Your gaze met his, as Agnese went on her speech. It appeared as if neither of you were paying attention to what she was saying, but it was most likely you whose mind was wandering away into those blue eyes that scrutinized you with unknown intent.

You knew it was rude to stare at other people, but it was difficult to look away from him. Of course, he was extremely attractive— to deny it would have been a lie— but something in the back of your mind had begun to bother you at that moment. There was this certain familiarity about him that perplexed you, though you had no idea why could that be. Maybe you were just confused after all these unusual events...

The bags under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights. For all his beauty, his gaze told you that on the inside he was wearied and there was an aura of danger and gloom surrounding him. He definitely wasn't the type of person you imagined would rush to the rescue of someone in need, but you didn't dare make any more assumptions on a complete stranger. From the way he regarded you, however, you had an inkling that this man held some sort of grudge against you. It was impossible to explain why you felt that way, for you'd never seen him in your entire life, but you perceived hidden hostility coming from him in the way his chiseled aquiline nose scrunched ever so slightly and his lips thinned at the sight of you.

"For a mother, her children are her most precious treasure and I am forever indebted to you for what you've done." Turning to you, Agnese gave you an expectant look and her words startled you into embarrassment. "(Y/N), why are you standing there like a scared hare? Be a good girl and thank him properly."

You wished Nanna was there to guide you, so you wouldn't feel lost. Unsure of how to proceed, you took some hesitant steps towards Aeneas until you were at a close but safe distance from him. To be honest, you were wary of this man and remembered what the maids had said about him not being very warm with others. Most certainly he wasn't one to be keen on pleasantries, and you wondered why Agnese was so zealous in the first place.

Doing as she commanded, you curtsied rather rigidly in an effort not to appear uncouth while avoiding to look at him. "You have my sincerest gratitude, sir. I will never forget what you did for me."

Well, that didn't sound very sincere for sure.

Aeneas reciprocated with the enthusiasm of a rock, though you weren't much jolly to begin with. A curt nod with a grunt was all he offered, and you made no further attempts to speak as you glanced at Agnese— uncertain what to make of him. It was a little difficult to decide whether Aeneas was by any chance socially awkward, or rudeness was an elemental part of his character. Either way, Agnese was charmed and she barely paid any attention to his lack of etiquette or she didn't care.

Despite everything, you understood she was smitten by his fair looks but something about Aeneas made you uneasy and you sensed ill-intent coming from him. You tried not to judge him all too soon, however. Perhaps he was shy and unsure of how to act around strangers, much like you were.

"I do not think I can ever repay such handsome generosity on your part but, if you will allow me, I shall make sure that your deeds won't go without compensation." Opening her fan, she waved it about while giving him a coy smile. "Please, stay in our home for as long as you wish. You're my guest of honor, and it would be a pleasure to be in your company."

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers at her words. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. Was she serious about asking this man to stay?! Agnese had been so concerned about the security of the estate not long ago, yet all of a sudden she intended to house a complete stranger? You didn't understand what had driven her to make that decision. Without a doubt she was grateful that he saved her only daughter, but this seemed to be a little too much. What could she possibly know about this Aeneas man? Who knew what intentions did he have or what kind of person he was.

There was definitively something uncanny about him; you felt it in your gut, but you couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation for that. His presence troubled you and, though you wanted to believe that it was your mind playing tricks on you again, you were not so sure. For some motive you were unaware of, he didn't like you but you didn't trust him in return.

Your father used to say that life was a box full of surprises, and it was at that moment that you found truth in his words.

What you failed to realize, however, was that you had inadvertently opened Pandora's box.

A/N: This was a really long chapter! I seem to go overboard with details and stuff orz.

As you already know, I chose the name Aeneas (pronounced iˈniːəs) as an alias for Vergil. I don't believe he would reveal his true name to people he doesn't really know, nor it is necessary. Why Aeneas? It's the name of the protagonist of the Aeneid, written by the poet Virgil, so I thought it would be fitting. Also, I love the name. I believe it means "praiseworthy" but I've also read another of its meanings is "terrible grief".

Also, yes, the briefly-mentioned tale of Sparda and the maiden was taken from the legend of Saint George and the dragon.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and feedback is appreciated. See ya next time! ♥ feedback is appreciated always! Like, reblog, or ask if you have any doubts!

First

#vergil #devil may cry #dmc #dmc3 #dmc4 #classic vergil #my stories #i'm sure there are lots of mistakes here #but my brain is fried #what am i even doing?

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curiosity-killed · 5 years ago

Text

a hard night

@synergetic-prose ahhh okay i LOVE this prompt and also am sorry that this got....somewhat sidetracked and only sort of followed said prompt orz

Pairing: Shiro/Allura/Ulaz Word count: 2045 Warnings: Major character death (fake), PTSD, nightmares

They all have their own ways of handling their scars. In the middle of the night, Shiro will slip out on silent feet to train against the gladiator until his legs quiver from exhaustion and his arms can no longer lift his bayard. Allura will hole up in the command center, monitoring the surveillance both within and without of Atlas — making sure no one attacks and no one disappears. There are nights where Shiro can’t stand the softness, the openness, of a bed and tucks himself into a corner of the room where he can keep an eye on both them and the door. A chair is his only concession to comfort those nights. Nightmares wake them all. But tonight — tonight is a good night. It’s been a long day, filled from the first moment to the last. Ulaz’s shoulders ache with the strain of having been well-used, and the soft pads of his fingertips sport the tender rawness that comes before callouses have had a chance to form. The bricks they used and the tall beams were still rough, and he probably should have worn gloves. Still, it’s his favorite kind of fatigue: one born of rebuilding instead of fighting, hope instead of fear. The industrial showers of Atlas had washed away the dirt and dust of reconstructing from his fur, and Allura had insisted on braiding back his crest till only the very tip was loose to tickle the back of his neck.

Now, curled around Shiro with his ankles tangled in Allura’s, Ulaz has only enough energy to seep into the honey-warm contentment that has settled deep in his chest. Already, Allura’s chest rises and falls with easy long breaths, and Shiro gives him a sleepy smile from where his face is smushed into the pillow, half-hidden. Lifting a hand, Ulaz combs gently through his bangs, brushing them sideways out of Shiro’s eyes. His smile broadens and he closes his eyes, nestling deeper into the mattress and pillow. Taking a deep breath and letting it out easy, Ulaz does likewise and lets sleep slip blanket-like over him. The grass is soft, flattening beneath his boots rather than crunching and breaking off. The fire hasn’t reached here — yet. Already the air has turned thick and grey, smoke a living thing that coils against his suit, forms feeble hands around his neck. If he peers hard enough, he can make out the shapes of the buildings, half-ruined, crumbling in silhouette through the smog. He can’t be that far away. He has to make it. Urging his limbs to move faster, he finds them heavy, sluggish. Silence rings in his ears, the echoes of an explosion he wasn’t there to witness. There’s a kind of pressure deep in his skull that buzzes in the curves of his inner ears, and the edges of his vision are blurry, smudged like fingerprints on a visor. He trips on the long arms of the smoke still rising from the ashes of these strangers’ homes. Kolivan is first. His eyes are still open, dulled and paled against the stark scarlet dried over his throat and jaw. White bone gleams through the ruin of his cheek. Ulaz’s stomach lurches but he stumbles on. There’s no saving his leader, but the cause has always been greater than one soldier, greater than any of them put together. It must go on. He must go on. More bodies follow soon after, some he knows, some he only saw in passing. Some wear masks but others are bared and their faces look so young, too young, barely older than kits. He cannot stop to grieve for them. The time for helping the dead is long past. All he can do now is search for the living. He doesn’t find them. One by one, the broken bodies of the paladins appear through the rubble. Garish red streaks across the white of their armor. Hand prints pattern Hunk’s cuirass and finish at his cheek, too small to belong to his own hand. Beside him, Pidge is crumpled with her face hidden in the rocks. Lance is a little further off, facing away. Ulaz can’t bring himself to walk to the other side, to see the aftermath of the helmet fractured and dripping red just beside the paladin’s lean body. He doesn’t find Keith at all, only the red bayard and the shards of a luxite blade. His hand flexes, curls tight on empty air instead of his own saber’s handle. Rare and terrible is the force that can shatter a Blade. Swallowing, he forces himself to go on. The urgency of before has drained away, replaced with a heavy despair. Desperation is the only thing that keeps his steps from halting completely. He hasn’t seen Shiro or Allura yet. They could still — they might not be — he could — He finds them together — and alive. Shiro’s grey eyes burn violet, quintessence a toxic blood crackling through him with the acrid taste of Haggar’s touch. His left hand wraps around the black bayard’s handle, curled over Allura’s fist. The tip of the blade juts scarlet and wrong from his back, a perfect line to Allura’s arm. His right hand is pressed to her belly, knuckles kissing her skin where the blade of his prosthesis has burnt through armor and undersuit. The scent of burning flesh clogs the air, chokes Ulaz where the smoke hadn’t succeeded. Rigor alone seems to hold them in place, bodies using the last of their fight to make sure that this gruesome sacrifice is complete. When Allura turns to him, it is with jerky motions, mechanical. Her blue eyes burn. “You,” she hisses. Blood trickles dark down her lip, sluggish. “You were supposed to stop this. This is your fault.” He knows enough about Altean anatomy now to know where her injuries must fall, know the source of the thick black-burgundy blood staining her teeth. His mind, inconsiderate beast, turns to that with a kind of detachment, cataloguing the damage done to her as if he were still performing research in Haggar’s torture chambers. A punctured lung, internal bleeding, potential rupture of digestive organs — by rote, it notes them down as if in black-and-white text on a report. “Why didn’t you do anything,” Allura snarls, voice rising in a hoarse call. “Why didn’t you save us?” His feet are planted to the spot, staked into the grass as if they’ve grown roots. Even if he could move, he doesn’t know what he’d do. To touch her would be an insult, a disgrace. She’s right. Her words deserve more than his faltering comfort, his insufficient justification. He should have fought harder, should’ve done more, sacrificed himself before accepting the death of a thousand others. “You failed us,” Allura cries. Beneath his feet, the planet shudders and groans, giving way at last. When he falls among the rubble, the darkness is almost a relief from the hatred in Allura’s eyes. He wakes to the soft hush of Atlas’ air cycle kicking on. Their room smells of soft things, clean fabric, a hint of juniberries, but the smell of death clings to his fur and mind. Swallowing, he unfolds his fists to lay flat over his belly and forces himself to breathe. Long, slow inhales and matching exhales expand his chest, press the warm fur up against his palms. His heart beats a frenetic rhythm in his neck, ragged with remembered fear and adrenaline. He remembers that planet, that mission, that failure. He’d been so much younger then — in heart more than years — and still heady with the arrogance of the newly initiated. Back then, he’d still believed that their sacrifices meant that no one else had to sacrifice, that their deaths meant that no others had to die. And then Kijala Four had happened. His fingers tighten, claws scraping through his fur, and he forces them to relax once more. He taught himself this practice back when he was working under Haggar. Any discrepancies, any odd behaviors, would jeopardize the mission, and so he could not afford to get up and walk the ship’s cold corridors or commandeer a training room until his body was too exhausted for dreams. Any comfort he sought, he found alone and in stillness. The witch’s eyes were ever-present and rarely inhibited by wall or closed door. Like a small creature, he holed up in the darkness and stilled his trembling limbs to keep away from the hunter’s gaze. The mattress dips and there’s a rustle to his left. “‘Laz?” Allura mumbles, his name a mush of sound. “Apologies,” he murmurs, “I did not mean to wake you.” “Didn’t,” Allura says before a yawn splits her words, squeaking on the end. She lifts a hand to sweep back the great tide of white hair tumbling over her forehead. “Atlas thought you were in distress.” Despite himself, Ulaz’s lips twist in displeasure. He should be used to it by now: Allura and Atlas are nearly a single whole, divisible only with effort and never completely, and though Shiro’s connection to Atlas is dwarfed next to his with the Black Lion, his time nestled in Allura’s soul left them bound. By extension, occasionally, Ulaz benefits from a strange sort of benevolence from the ship that offers him rooms at a preferred temperature or pathways opening up to speed his trips around the many levels. Still, he cannot quite accustom himself to the invasiveness of the ship’s sentience and omniscience. “It is nothing,” Ulaz says, stiff. Propping her cheek up on one fist, Allura eyes him in silence for a moment. There’s a keenness, a knowing, to her gaze that tiredness doesn’t abate. “Was it a nightmare?” she asks. He hums, reluctant to give much answer. It was a nightmare in the most basic sense, a terrible dream wrought of his own fears — but it was not only fantasy, was grounded in true failings, in sense memories that linger in his hands and ribcage. He doesn’t want to burden her with the phantasms his mind concocts or the terrible truths from which they’re born. “Would touch make it worse?” Allura asks. That gives him pause, and he hitches up his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “Not worse,” he offers. It’s enough for Allura to give a firm nod and turn around to swing her legs off the edge of the bed. The motion seems to rouse Shiro, who lifts his head to squint blearily first at her and then at Ulaz. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. “Nothing,” Ulaz answers. “Just a bad dream.” Shiro’s forehead scrunches up in a frown. It doesn’t ease as Allura steps around the foot of the bed to clamber up on the other side. Ulaz has to shift inwards to make room, and in doing so, realizes that something’s changed about their relative proportions. He twists around to look at Allura and finds her his same height, tall enough to curve around him from back to toes and reach over him to Shiro. “How is that?” Allura asks. Her voice comes out in a warm breath against his shoulder, and he can feel the steady thump of her heart against his back. Swallowing, he gives a little nod. “Good,” he says. She hums and nestles a little closer, tucking her feet between his ankles and her face into the curve of his neck. On his other side, Shiro watches the proceedings with a solemn, confused frown before it eases into a gentle smile. Smallest of their trio, he folds himself into Ulaz’s chest so that his head fits under his chin and his left arm curls around his side. If they stay like this, that arm’s bound to go numb, but Shiro shows no sign of discomfort, and Ulaz makes no move to dissuade him. The weight of their bodies on either side seems to form a kind of gravity, a grounding force that tethers him here and now. He sinks into it, lets his lungs follow the steady rise and fall of their chests, lets his heart settle into a matching rhythm. The nightmares will return someday, will crawl back on broken, bloodied feet. For now, though, his princess and paladin will keep him safe.

#shalluraz #shiro #allura #ulaz #voltron #vld #voltron ficlet #my writing #ot3: asterism

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