#he was like 'ah yes we just need to find this nice scholar so he can translate this book'

[genshinemblem564]

Chapter 4: Castle Town

While you, Zelda, and the others were making your way to the castle town, Link and Impa were as well but in a more frantic state.

Impa: Guh! Get back here!!

The little guardian was already racing towards the castle town, most likely locked onto Zelda's sheikah slate.

Impa: Losing the princess is causing enough stress, but now you're going haywire!

Link followed behind silently, as he often does.

Back with your group. You had finally reached the castle town.

Tighnari: So this is it, huh?

Zelda: Yes, if you'd like, I can show you around.

(Y/N): That would be much appreciated, and it will be a nice time killer until your friends arrive if they haven't already.

As you all familiarize yourselves with the castle town's layout and shops, the Akademiya and their mercenaries started asking around about their lost deity.

Zelda: And I believe that's just about everything. I hope you enjoy your stay in the castle town.

(Y/N): Thank you, we'll try.

Tighnari: Well, how'd it go?

Akademiya scholar: Terrible, we didn't learn anything except that they MIGHT be wearing a hood or some kind of ear covering, as they would stand out.

Tighnari: Well, that's bothersome. Well, we're already here, so let's see what they have to offer.

(Y/N): Oh, if you're going shopping, you'll need these.

You hand Tighnari a bag.

(Y/N): That's a bag of rupees, Hyrule's currency.

Tighnari: I can't take this for nothing.

(Y/N): Go on, I insist. Besides, I've saved up plenty by doing odd jobs here and there to fund my own research.

Tighnari, unable to think of an offer, reluctantly accepts. You quickly explain how rupees work in terms of worth, but you were cut off by a strange noise.

???: BWOOP WOOOH!!

Zelda: Ah, little one! Then that must mean...

Impa: Princess!!!

Impa and Link rush to Zelda's side.

Impa: Oh! Thank the goddess you're alright!

Zelda: Yes, I'm perfectly fine, thanks to our new friends here.

Impa: Oh, how rude of me. Ahem, as the princess's humble retainer, I thank you for her safe return.

Kaveh: Wait, did you say princess?

Zelda: Oh, I'm sorry, introducing myself seems to have slipped my mind. Ahem, I am Zelda, the princess of Hyrule.

Kaveh: Oh, uh, oh geez. Um, we humbly apologize if our behavior was out of conduct.

Kaveh was in a full-on bow, trembling as though he had seen a ghost.

Zelda: Oh, please, do drop the formalities. I much prefer if people speak with me genuinely and not so formally that I can't even understand what they're saying.

Wanderer: Hey, we've gotten all we can. It's time to go.

Kaveh: Must you always interrupt.

Zelda: I'm sorry you still haven't found who you're looking for, but why not come with us? We'll soon be journeying all across Hyrule ourselves so it wouldn't hurt.

Wanderer was about to dismiss Zelda's offer but felt someone nudge him. He turns around to find nothing and no one, as if the wind was urging him to accept.

Wanderer: *Sigh* Fine.

Zelda: Splendid, I just need to report to Father, and we'll be off.

[scarletwritesshit]

Kaveh x Reader ✦ Oh my God! Roommates! ✦ VI: Rishboland

"I did say that, but I didn’t necessarily mean for you to cease your studies altogether," he said, still fidgeting with his ink quill.

"Alhaitham kind of made me do it," you said, scratching your head. "He refuses to resume teaching until my mind is clear of any burdening thoughts."

"Burdening thoughts? What could be troubling you?" he asked, concerned.

Telling Kaveh your newfound feelings now would be rather rushed timing, especially considering how they haven’t fully sunken in yet. Normally, he perceives you to be a well composed scholar, so how can you formulate an excuse and slip your true thoughts by him? For the most part, you’ve been able to keep yourself together around him, so building an excuse off of any preexisting struggles wasn’t an option.

It was real shame that you had to resort to flat out lying to him. Some things are best saved for later unfortunately, and a love confession was one of them.

"The amount of work finally got to me, and earlier, I finally crashed," you said. Not the best excuse in the world, but it would hopefully have to work for now.

Kaveh sighed ever so lightly and turned to face his desk. He sat his quill down directly on the paper, something normally frowned upon as the damp ink could ruin hours of hard work. However, it appeared as if he had been twirling around his quill for quite some time, as the ink on the tip had dried completely. Not a drip splashed or trickled down the paper.

"I knew it," he muttered, barely audible.

"What was that?"

"Ah, it was nothing. Why don’t you come on in?"

You nodded and walked into his room, gently closing the door behind you. For a moment, you were apprehensive about taking a seat on his bed, but no harm could come from taking a moment to bond with an especially close friend of yours. Kaveh paid no mind to you as he stared blankly at his paper. Could he be overthinking his actions from earlier? You didn’t want to press the matter onto him, but you were quite curious and wanted to gain a better sense of how he was feeling.

You looked at him as he seemed somewhat bothered. There was no way to know for sure unless you asked, so...

"Do…do you regret snapping at Alhaitham?" you asked, letting your curiosity get the better of you.

"Truly, I do not, but what I find most unusual is the lack of protest from him."

"I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Besides, isn’t it nice to have a break from his attitude for once?"

"It is. Very nice actually. Yet it still feels strange to me.”

"Alhaitham has worked with me for quite some time. He probably knows me well enough to realize that I’ve been feeling quite off."

"He does indeed know you very well, yet I feel like we hardly know each other. At the same time, there’s this strange sense of familiarity about you."

It was odd. You too felt usually bonded to him, despite Alhaitham being the one that you have spent the most time with.

If you truly wanted to get close to Kaveh, then now was the perfect chance. Better to start now if you ever hope to have a shot with him...

"If you want to justify your sense of familiarity, then now’s the perfect time to start," you said, making an awfully bold move.

"Perfect. A fine way for us to relax and unwind together. Now, why don’t you come over here so that I may show you a bit of the creative process?"

"Aren’t you experiencing a block?" you asked, confused by his prior mannerisms. "You were aimlessly twirling your pen around earlier."

“On this project, yes, but I can sketch out something simple if it means a chance for us to communicate more. It may just be the burst of inspiration that I need."

"I don’t know how I would possibly help, but okay," you said.

There was nowhere else to sit and watch, so you slid yourself down the bed in order to get a better look. You turned your body at a slight angle so that you could see the sheet of paper better between Kaveh and the edge of the desk. He wrote something down on a tag and threaded it through a string, then he gently rolled up his project and tied it with the thread. Kaveh leaned the roll against a stack of books close to one of the desk’s legs, with the tag facing outwards for ease of discovery in the future.

Kaveh reached for another large piece of paper from a shelf under his desk, sliding it out and lifting it above his head like a giant bedsheet. The paper was laid perfectly flat and straight on the table. He quietly sat there for a few moments before turning his head slightly to look at you.

"Ah, but what good will it do to put distance between us, when the goal here is to bond? Come, and witness the birth of a glorious masterpiece!"

It would be rude to deny his request, so you pushed yourself up from the edge of his bed and stood behind his chair, off to his left side, allowing you to clearly see over his shoulder. It was quite nerve wracking standing this close to him, as you could feel your legs struggling to maintain your weight. To brace yourself for any accidental fumbles, you grabbed the back of his chair.

He tapped at the paper with the feather, staring intensely at the blank space spread out before him. Occasionally, his taps would become faster and more aggressive, until they slowed down once again. Was beating the crap out of your workspace some sort of designer secret?

"...Kaveh? I thought that you were going to show me the design process. Not beat on a piece of paper the whole afternoon."

"I am merely brainstorming," he said in defense. "I would cost this establishment a fortune in paper if I drenched every page in my possession with my discarded thoughts."

"Then what explains those?" you said, pointing to a mixed stack of books and used paper.

"Er...I did say discarded, didn’t I? Those are merely for later."

Sure they are.

"Forgetting about those," he said, finally dipping his quill into the ink, "I have a project at hand to be concerned about. Why don’t I show you some simple design sketches?"

Just as long as it’s something to focus on that’s not the man who is uncomfortably close to me, then anything goes.

"You’re the artist. I’m just a witness to the crime scene that this paper is about to become."

"What-crime scene? I beautify paper with ink, not paint the streets with blood!"

"Beautify? Those victims would beg to differ," you said, once again directing his attention to the mixed stack of books and papers.

"The only thing that they’re a victim of is my supreme architectural planning! If you view beauty as a crime, then I suppose I’ll have no choice but to create the most gruesome scene you’ll ever see," he said, looking at you with a wink.

His quill moved gracefully along the page, creating sketchy yet smooth shapes and lines. Something you said must’ve sparked some creative motivation in the man, as he did not hesitate for a moment as he drew. The only time he broke focus was to dip his quill into the ink, careful as to not botch his drawing.

After a few minutes of vigorous sketching, you were able to very clearly recognize one of the shapes.

"Sumeru rose?" you asked.

"Why yes! This adornment indeed takes its inspiration from the Sumeru Rose!"

"May I ask, why that flower out of everything?"

"It’s a common flower that I incorporate into my designs. Perfect for a roof, I’d say, but works well for other small features."

Kaveh wasn’t wrong. The sketch was designed with structural integrity in mind, but had a satisfying repetition of shapes that made it visually appealing. Small arrows were sketched on the outside of the design, showing the direction of the pattern and elaborating further on the structure. Some notes were scribbled down in a hurry, illegible to you, but perhaps not to him.

Once he seemed satisfied with the sketch, Kaveh stopped drawing. After a few good looks, he sat his pen aside and turned his head to look at you. As your hand was right behind him, you could feel his hair brush against your fingers as his head moved. The silky softness briefly falling between your fingers had you yearning for more, even if it were for just a moment. Kaveh, however, didn’t seem to mind this, or he simply did not notice. Either way, you resisted the temptation to gently grab small handful of his hair and gently run your hand through it.

"These little lines here," he said, tapping his finger on the arrows, "help me to get a better feel for the pattern and structural shape."

You nodded your head, speechless due to the memory of the fluffy texture of his hair still lingering in your fingers.

"And all of these notes...well, Alhaitham says that only I’m able to decipher what they say."

The script was truly illegible anyways, but you still didn’t feel like taking a shot at reading it.

"For once, I agree with him," you said with a teasing smile.

"Ha, I knew you would say that. It’s probably the only thing that I can agree with him on,” Kaveh said with a laugh. "Now then, excuse me while I prepare ourselves some tea..."

Kaveh slid out of his chair on the side opposite of your and almost seemed as if he was holding back the urge to rush out of his room. Such a strange man, he is, for wanting to escape the embarrassment of agreeing with his bitter rival.

He works in unusual ways, doesn’t he? Kaveh acts all-knowing about the complexity of human emotion, yet he couldn’t come to terms with accepting even the smallest, most indirect defeat to Alhaitham. His feelings may be strong, but the rivalry between those two was stronger. It became almost comical at times, but you couldn’t help but wonder if the man’s thoughts went beyond what he was allowing to be heard. Obviously, Alhaitham wouldn’t care to hear his elaborate explanations on the heart and soul, but from Kaveh's creative mind, you can deduct that a lot more goes into his thought process than what meets the eye.

You can see the joy that goes into his craft, the frustration that goes towards Alhaitham, and the sorrow at the thought of losing someone who understands him.

Have you ever considered what he thought about love, though?

[the-keep-under-gresit]

Late!comment is late thanks to WiFi tower issues. Fun times. 😣

*Clears throat and cracks knuckles*

I was unaware of any 'purposely left' scar option but could be, I mean, if it's fanfic anything works [/my opinion, never been a canon purist?].

I'd still love to know where I found this info (must try to find it for curiosity's sake)! I was fresh off the series (around midway through this year) and wanted to learn more of the lore and then stumbled upon... something that put these ideas into my head but yeah, I mean, it's not farfetched so why not. 😀 Think the reasoning had to do with the scar being a reminder of his own father attacking him and just how much the grieving madman needed to be taken down, which is... quite sad. 😥

It's... I don't wanna say 'easier' in that sense since any art form presents its own set of challenges, but you're definitely fortunate in the regard that you can alter the lore as needed to suit the story and not be overly concerned if it diverges too much from the source material. ☺ My mindset has difficulty finding that middle ground. 😅

On Sypha

Ahhhh, that's right that's right!!! Show's where my concentration's at when shirtless!Al is onscreen. 😅 And I also wrote Speaker instead of Scholar, brain go derp! 🤪 *Highly embarrassed*

On dhampir incapable of turning anyone

Ooooh, so you've attempted it from both angles! 🤩 Nice! And I do so like those examples! PS. Haven't forgotten to read Prickly Thorns (and the others). Will get there. ☺

Both concepts work, really, and are equally fun! All just depends on the setting again. For me, I kinda lean towards the 'incapable' side too for it presents a flaw (so to speak), the human side affecting the ability(?) and helps balance out an otherwise almost perfect being... Another random one but I may even slightly HC that Al might be infertile due to being a hybrid, but the possibilities are something I intend to look further into at some stage and are currently just a small thought.

Ah yes, bottom line: Do as you please. 😁 For you personally, though, how far is too far? Just curious.

Continuing where I left off:

Thank you so much for the pieces on vampirism and and blood drinking as a whole! Excellently put!

Ah, yes! The magic and spells! And about the radio drama, I've heard some mention it but not in such detail! Thank you!! 🤩

Could he be turned, though, do you think? 🤔 Fully, I mean. Always found it a little curious that, for a series centred around vampires, we never get an onscreen turning.

Think Lenore also mentions something about blood being what keeps them at their peak (magic wise?). Oh, wholeheartedly agree; there seems to be no interest in it, nor does the very presence of blood appear to excite any of the vampires, unlike in other media.

Have to wonder if Lisa perhaps had a hand in it, too; not wanting her husband and child to partake in the blood consumption (not anymore, in Drac's case). Human blood, anyway. Though, Godbrand mentions "He hasn't fed in a while." (paraphrasing) A while in their term which could very well mean years?

Alucard's upbringing is also of insane interest to me, such as, would his vampiric side have prompted cravings while he grew up, even if he'd never even tasted it? But that's a rabbit hole for another time! Far too many thoughts and questions on it!

'it's canon if it works for me'

🤔 ... Yeah, I can work with that! 😁

Seriously, thank you ever so much for indulging me here!!! It is such a treat to login and read all your responses! 🤗

Hey, dearie~ Apologies for the random Ask, but am curious as to your thoughts on a particular subject (and… may or may not need them for fic reasons 🤐): Does Alucard actually consume blood? Human and/or animal.

Aside from those stores in his keep under Gresit (which are… bizarre in and of themselves, honestly 🤔) and a comment to Trevor about 'killing and eating' him which could be interpreted in different ways, there doesn't appear to be that much canonical evidence to support the idea. Took my noob ponderings to the world wide web, but with little success. Most offered info from his game counterpart, which states that he apparently has consumed in the past but dislikes the taste? 🤔 If correct, one could fill in the gaps with info from similar sources as such, of course, but I personally still enjoy reading others' takes on the question. 😁

And it's naturally a fun idea that the fandom seems to eat up; him drinking from his partner 'cause c'mon, you have a half-VAMPIRE boyfriend/husband! Bu~ut, what if he doesn't like blood? What would the reason be? HAS he perhaps consumed in the past but no longer does? Share with me your wisdom!... Please. If it's not too much trouble. 😊

Hi! Finally got to this, thanks for asking! This'll be a long-ish one.

From your note I take it we're mainly interested in 'show-canon' here, and that’s the lens I’ll filter this through but I'll refer to other media from the Castlevania universe on this topic.

Yes, as you wrote, the show-verse interpretation of him has some references to hematophagy:

The presence of these in Alucard's private Keep:

Considering Alucard was in pretty bad shape after the first confrontation with Drac, and IF we assume those contain blood, it seems implied it was used in some manner as part of a healing/reanimation system OR, maybe, as sustenance during his Sleep ... The provenance of it? We (I) don't know, the show doesn't focus on that.

Alucard heals speedily when wounded as evidenced in the show a few times, and the fact that the chest scar remains after Dracula fights him in season I suggests to me just how close to kicking the bucket he might've been, if we think about who wounded him in the first place. So, maybe this was a one time case of needing this extra support? But don't know. In the speculation business here.

Just a fun thing, they make me think of these health bars in the games:

2. Again as you mentioned, the 'kill you and eat you' banter. It's hard to tell but my take is Alucard simply played on Trevor's preconceptions there to get a laugh out of it, since he was aware of the prophecy as shown when he asks Sypha here 'do you know the whole story?'

(can we pause to appreciate Sypha's blush for a moment aww)

And (I think) that when he saw them and heard their reason for coming, he likely knew, hence the 'do you care, Belmont?' questions. But he's a bastard(affectionate) and why not test a Belmont out because he can.

3. Adding what he told Sumi and Taka in season III:

Now, the statement might've been an extrapolation as a part of training, but do with that what you will.

It's a fun idea to eat up(har har) because blood drinking, or the symbolism of it - taking of one’s life force, has often been depicted as having a sensual side in certain literature genres and other media if the intent is not murderous (aka not a 'drink them dry' situation). It represents a physical and visceral connection between the (usually) willing giver and taker on a much deeper level than other pleasurable physical interactions let's say. It involves a huge amount of trust from one party, and the validation of that trust by the other.

I won't go into the wider discussion of the vampire myth origins and how it changed from its folkloric roots around the 19th century, though there is a lot to say. But the concept of vampirism has been around for millennia - as far back as Mesopotamia. Suffice to add that the contemporary Lestat-Dracula-Alucard types, the elegant, decadently flawless depictions of the vampire are a product of literary works gaining popularity at the time (rotting thanks to John Polidori, Sheridan Le Fanu and the like). Also! The term dhampir is not a Castlevania invention, but has its origins in Balkan folklore, with the same meaning.

Most offered info from his game counterpart, which states that he apparently has consumed in the past but dislikes the taste? 🤔 If correct, one could fill in the gaps with info from similar sources as such, of course

Right! The gameverse/Castlevania universe has some other references to it too, some I remember:

In SOTN he can activate a spell called dark metamorphosis, which in summary heals him if coming in contact with (enemies') blood 

Soul steal is another spell in the games that Alucard (and Dracula) can master, which is just that: healing by draining 'souls'/the life energy of those around them, dealing damage and healing themselves.

While neither of these are straight up 'blood drinking' they follow the trail of vampirism - draining the vital essence of the living.

And since we're here, lumping this together. A spinoff radio drama (Japanese) taking place after SOTN events deals strongly with Alucard and hematophagy. In Nocturne of Recollection Maria Renard is living with Alucard after the SOTN events (... nothing suggested they’re in a romantic relationship, mind you, at least it didn't seem like it to me).

The Villain of the story (incubus Magnus) appears to Maria and suggests Alucard won’t be able to control his thirst at one point around her, saying something like (paraphrasing) “why do you think he keeps a human around”.

She doesn’t believe him, but then asks Alucard about it, who admits he has consumed human blood in the past, but obviously doesn’t anymore. In the past he turned an old servant/friend (Lyudmil) into a vampire, which is strongly implied. It's also suggested that he struggled with his vampirism and legacy. I like to reference these bits in any ‘dhampir turns someone’ fic since it’s still in the Castlevania universe and Why Not.

Going back to the animated show, I’ve seen (and used) some common tropes in CV series fanfic:

drinks blood in dire circumstances: he’s gravely injured, usually beyond healing abilities for some reason and someone offers up blood to help him heal/get back on his feet

Sensual, usually blood kink/blood play, mostly in smutfic 

My headcanon of show-verse Alucard is he can drink blood, but he doesn’t need to, since we've of course seen him eat plain ol' human food. Nor is he interested, I see him presented as leaning more towards the human side of his legacy here. Anyway, this was the mile-long ramble, I likely missed some things but in the end it's up to you how you want to interpret it as an author, how much you want to keep to the fandom universe or expand beyond it.

I'm a strong proponent of 'it's canon if it works for me' in fanfiction writing tbh, and I've written AU show-verse Alucard drinking blood for various reasons/with various effects. Looking forward to how you apply it for fic purposes!

[roaringheat]

LMAO HOLY SHIT UR TELLIN ME VICAR MAX HAD ME THINKING FOR AGES THAT WE WERE MEETING ANOTHER SCHOLAR WHEN ACTUALLY IT WAS AN EX CON THAT TRICKED HIM IN PRISON AND HE JUST WANTED TO BEAT HIS ASS FOR REVENGE???

[obsidiancreates]

AU Where Stede Is Just Inexplicably Yolked, Dude: Part 7; Feats Of Strength When There's No Ghost Haunting Your Ass

Izzy feels like the world is almost right again whenever Bonnet does something outrageously stupid.

So when the ship runs aground for the second time (as far as Izzy knows), he's almost glad.

"Well!" Bonnet claps his hands, and Izzy knows that damn tone far too well now. It makes Ed perk up in a way that make Izzy almost throw up. And Bonnet continues, because he never shuts the fuck up. "As you may have noticed, we've run aground!"

"Again," more than of the sorry crew mumble. Izzy smirks a little.

"Yes. Again. I admit, maybe mandatory midnight jam sessions weren't my finest idea, but! This just means another vacation! This time without hostages, or unpleasant encounters!"

"Hey man." Ivan gestures at him and Fang. "We're right here, mate."

"Ah, I didn't you mean you. You two are a delight." Bonnet smiles at them, and throws a pointed glance at Izzy, and it's only the still-healing ache in his nose that prevents him from retaliating. Much. He does throw a scowl that curdles most men's blood Bonnet's way. But Bonnet shrugs those glares off with the same ease Izzy has ending a man's life.

If he didn't hate him so much, it'd be impressive. But Bonnet's only got guts when they're least needed. Or least helpful. Or most irritating.

Really, he's only got guts when it'll make things worse for Izzy.

"Point is, we've got time for ourselves! So let's get down to the beach, enjoy some sand, some sun!"

"It's midnight."

"Some moon, then! You know, some scholars even believe that moonlight is just, light from the sun that the moon somehow reflects!"

"That's nonsense." "Fuckin' dumb." "Sounds like witchcraft." "Moon's not a mirror, Cap'n."

"Alright, alright, I get it." Bonnet flaps those stupid flouncy sleeves of his to get them to shut up. It doesn't work.

Izzy slips off of the boat while they all argue.

"Hey, Izzy!" He looks up at Ed.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Where're you goin', man? We're gonna make a little fire on the beach. Tell campfire stories and shit."

"I don't wanna do that, Edward. Not with this lot, especially."

"You're such a fuckin' stick in the mud, man! We're not on the fuckin' Queen Anne anymore, you can cut loose. Chill out a little."

"That's what I'm doing. Away from those twats."

Ed sighs. "Suit yourself, man."

"I am."

And he does, quite happily, by finding a nice tree to lay under and sleeping far, far away from the idiots (one idiot in particular) who melted his boss's brain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm not carrying him!"

"Why not, Captain? My back been botherin' me."

"Then ice it later, John! I'm not picking him up just for him to stab me! In the heart!"

"Fine."

It's only after he's scooped up and thrown over the maybe-Irish one's shoulder that Izzy's mostly-asleep brain realizes, yes, he is the one being picked up.

At least it wasn't by Bonnet. And at least Bonnet's still aware Izzy can and will stab him. Some fuckin' silver lining to this fuckin' stormcloud of a life he's gotten stuck in. Like he sailed right into one of those damn sausage clouds.

"Put me down, you fuckwit," Izzy growls, and is unceremoniously dropped into the sand head-first. He scrambles to his feet, furiously spluttering. "Fuckin'- shitbags- sand in my- fuck!"

"Sand in your what?" He gets to his feet and glares at Ed.

"Have we got the fuckin' boat back in the water or not? ... Captain?"

"Nah, man. Stuck as hell," Ed says, sucking in a breath. "But we've got plenty of provisions, watch this. STEDE!"

"Yeah?"

"FEELING LIKE A COCONUT, MATE!"

"Alright!"

And Bonnet walks over to a coconut tree. And shakes it. And barely leaps out of the way of one falling on his head. And cracks the fucking thing open with his bare hands.

"Oh, this one's a bit slimy." Bonnet looks at Ed with a grimace, but Ed may as well have fuckin' stars in his eyes.

"Fuck this." Izzy storms over to the boat and pushes. Not a budge. He grits his teeth and turns to the rest of the dogs he's stuck with. "Why aren't any of you lot trying to push it back in?!"

"We can do that?" the not-very-Swedish one asks.

"Oh, god." The last word comes out more of a hacking choke of rage than an actual word. "Fuckin' useless, bunch of-"

"Now now!" Bonnet struts up to him, struts, tripping over himself the whole way because he is wearing dress shoes on a beach and Ed is still looking at-

Izzy looks away, because Ed is looking at Bonnet's ass. This is getting unbearable.

"Now, Izzy, I know tensions are a little heightened, but, there's no need to cast blame here."

"Says the guy who ran us aground," Izzy hears Jim mutter.

"No laying blame!" Bonnet repeats in a raised sing-song tone. "Anyway, it'd take a small army to get her back in the water. The last time this happened I tried for hours, just like this-"

One push.

Creak.

No. No, this isn't happening.

"-and she wouldn't budge. Because she is a sturdy ship-"

Another push, more like an affectionate pat really.

Creak.

"-made of high-quality materials and loaded with valuable goods. Granted, I was a bit... distressed at the time-"

Another push, for emphasis probably because this is Bonnet, and-

And the ship slides out from Bonnet's hands and into the fucking waves. Bobbing, just barely, in the shallows.

"Oh!" Bonnet puts his hands on his hips. "Well, either this sand is a bit firmer, or I've improved my form!"

"You got the boat back in the fuckin' water, man!" Ed races past them, clapping an arm around Bonnet's shoulders and pulling him out too as the rest of the crew rush out to push the ship back out of the shallows. And Izzy is pretty sure Ed is squeezing Bonnet's shoulder, and also pretty sure he sees Bonnet grinning. And Ed's hand moving lower-

"Maybe if I go back they'll just maroon me," he mutters.

[mywritingonlyfans]

“All right class, Professor Heras is out today, so y’all know what that means,” Damiano claps his hands together as he stands at the front of the auditorium. He isn't too exstatic about being up before 11 am either, but at least he gets to be in charge for once. “Be honest with me, who actually did the reading, raise your hands, I won’t tell Prof.”

There is a slight hesitation in the class before a few hands go up. He laughs at the sparseness, but appreciates the honesty nonetheless, “Okay, okay, well for those of you who didn’t read it, you’re missing out because Mary-Anne Evans writes wonderfully, even when hidint her identity; this one is even a favorite of mine so I’m taking this personally. So, we’re gonna talk about the characterization of Dorothea and Edward. I want you guys to tell me how they are developed and what we know about them. C’mon, I wanna see hands.”

Honestly, Damiano loves when he gets to command the class— part of why he’s working towards becoming a professor himself, but he still has a ways to go on his master's program. He hopes his future classes are more enthusiastic than this, but he doesn’t mind taking the lead.

“Cool, I’ll start!” he exclaims to the empty classroom. He already knows he’s far too energetic for the morning, but he has the traditional espresso he picked up on the way to class that’s still sitting half full on the professor’s desk to thank for that.

“So, what do we know about Dorothea? She’s nineteen, an orphan pious, living with her younger sister, and she's courted by Sir James. But what is the problem with this?”

A student raises his hand, “Dami, it’s nine in the morning.”

“Doesn’t answer my question, anyone else?”

“She is oblivious to him. She is attracted instead to Edward Casaubon, 45-year-old scholar. Dorothea accepts Casaubon's offer of marriage, despite her sister's protests. Chettam is encouraged to turn his attention to her Dorothea's sister, Celia, who has developed an interest in him,” a new voice joins the room, a voice Damiano has rarely crossed paths with.

“Y/n, how nice of you to join us, need something?” Damiano turns to face his fellow TA. She is a bit older than him, further into her master's program, but she’s only assisting for credits whereas Damiano actually wants to teach the subject he’s grading papers for. Still, they have a mutual understanding of each other.

Y/n rubs her eyes, clearly having just woken up along with the class, “Uh, yeah, I need the uh, the social justice research papers from 9A, Heras forgot to give them to me, told me to grab them from you.”

Damiano furrows his brow, then opens the desk's drawers.

"9A, 9A, 9A- Ah, yes, here they are," he says, kindly handing them over to Y/n. She offers a smile and accepts them.

Their hands touch for a moment and Damiano feels her warm hands on his fingers. Her perfume smelled like an assortment of wild flowers and it always mesmirised him.

"Thanks love," she says, kissing his cheek. Damiano has frozen, and until he's back to earth, Y/n has left the room, only the smell of her gloss in the air.

He shakes his head, feeling his cheek to make sure there isn't any gloss left, and turns back to the board, scribbling the stated.

"Anyway, as Y/n clarified, she isn't interested in Sir James' advances and chooses the love of a 45-year old scholar, who, for the era was quite old," He writes out his notes on the board, being careful of the chalk dust falling.

"What about Dorothea's and Edward's marriage? What happens on their honeymoon?"

A student raises their hand and Damiano calls, "Lydia"

"When are you and Y/n going on a date?" Damiano sighs. "Not what I asked. Will?"

"I didn't have my hand up," Will complains, rubbing his eyes.

"I know, but I also know that you remember the storyline from your review last semester," Will shuffled higher in his seat, fixing his posture.

"They experience the first tensions in their marriage on their honeymoon in Rome, when she finds that Sir James has no interest in involving her in his intellectual pursuits, plus no real intention of having his copious academic notes published, which was her chief reason for marrying him,"

"Thank you Will," Damiano exhales, noting it down in his plan. "But when are you two going to go on a date?" Will asks, and Damiano, turns to face the students.

"Me and Y/n are not interested in dating. We are both doing our work. Now, can someone focus on the lesson in hand, please!"

"You say that with a lot of confidence for someone who froze up right in front of us," Lydia speaks again, and Damiano lets an annoyed whine slip out.

"Okay, let me clear this up. As much as I like teaching you guys, this has to stop. My love life- or lack thereof- isn't to be discussed in class. Can we go back to the reading now?"

"Only if you ask Y/n out," another student chimes in and Damiano is really close to slamming his head on the desk.

"If you keep going like this I'll take away your first name privilleges," he says, taking off his glasses.

"Dami, come on! We saw how you looked at her when you handed her the papers. You have to!" Will replies, and Damiano knows he is losing this fight.

"Okay, I will. You have my word" he gives in, knowing full well he doesn't owe them anything.

"Now, someone! Middlemarch!"

_________

how had i written that so well???????? idk (i changed the names btw, so it made for a nice blurb thing)

ONLY THE SMELL OF HER GLOSS IN THE AIR that's cute i liked it 🥺 and he'd be the coolest prof ever

[yostresswritinggirl]

Scholars’ Chit Chat Submission

Cyno x Reader (actually platonic, in a way I guess, study partners, but possibly romantic in the future)

*Lore dump warning; Spoilers for all the Archon Quests and speculations of Teyvat; Really it’s all serious talk

XXX

“Hey Cyno,”

The said male turned away from the book he was reading, and focused his attention on you instead.

“What’s the matter?”

“Do you believe in eternity?”

Surprised at your sudden question, the male went quiet for a few moments.

“You want my own opinion or an objective one?”

“As much as I would like to hear both, it’s almost lunch time. So I would like to hear your opinion first.”

Sighing at your carefree reply, Cyno closed the book he was reading shut.

“Well, I simply don’t. After all, all living things will come to an end, it is the law of the universe and the reason why they say time is money.”

“Well yeah, I mean, our former archon did die five hundred years ago...”

Puzzled at your deflated mood, Cyno realised that this question didn’t simply popped out of your mind, but rather something that you had been thinking hard about for quite some time.

“Why’d you ask, by the way? You worried about the future?”

“It’s normal to be worried or even sacred okay? This is the very reason why we seek knowledge in the first place. To survive is the natural instinct of humans, and curiosity stems out of it as we can predict the future with more known about the world...”

“And yet the world is so vast, and our lives are so short, but we can pass down our knowledge through our legacy... That is the most basic right of humanity...”

“Yet don’t you think that it is strange? The fact that it has been thousands are even more years that we humans had been existed, there isn’t much we know about the pre-archon war era?”

Cyno looked down as he realised what you said was true.

“Indeed, but there isn’t much we can do about it isn’t there?”

“That’s the problem!! Nobody questions about it and that’s what makes it fishy!”

You are... Quite the special type of student at Sumeru Academia, even though you do seek knowledge about the world you all reside in. Due to the lack of Mysticism studies you didn’t take part in, you were the type to question everything, even the principles that had been decided by the Academia for centuries.

But that’s what allows your breakthroughs in your findings in the past few years here. Rather than focusing on a particular study or field, you tackle anything that comes in your way. Becoming one of the people who had read the most books in this grand library of Sumeru Academia.

Cyno liked that part of you, new perspectives shed more light to the field and it never gets boring when you suddenly throw questions at him for no absolute reason.

“The part where you go ‘seeing is believing’ is the easiest way to deceive someone?” He guessed, letting out a small chuckle.

“Exactly!! ‘Show not tell’, because people believe in what they see so when they try to deceive someone they show what they want them to see.”

“Illusions, mirages... People get tricked so easily without asking their own rationality!”

“So what you’re trying to say is-“

“That we should question this world in the first place!”

‘Here we go again...’ Cyno thought, but he didn’t actually mind your rambling.

“First! Why do we have to trust the gods in the first place? *All we can do is observe the chess game that the gods are playing, we don’t know the rules of the game, but as soon as we speculate it long enough, we’ll be able to guess what the rules are.”

“But in the end, we won’t know if we understand all of the rules cause who can predict what happens in the future anyways?”

“But with Astrology-“

“Do. not. interrupt me.”

Ah, you were getting heated up.

“With enough information, anyone can predict the future, they say. But can we actually do it? We can’t! We’re human after all.”

“Which leads to the question of, why don’t the gods spill the beans if the really care about us so much? But they didn’t.”

“I know it’s hypocritical to judge gods through mortal standards, but I have evidence.”

“If the gods truly care for each single human being of Teyvat, then shouldn’t everyone have a Vision if they’re supposed to be the grace from the gods?”

“You’re saying that those without Visions are not important in the eyes of the gods?”

“Hah, as much as I prefer that they care for both, my instincts tell me that they don’t care for either of them for some reason...”

Cyno narrowed his eyes at your slightly hesitant answer.

“Is this about you not able to obtain a Vision for yourself?”

“Cyno, how many times have I told you? If I were to receive a Vision, I would have went all the way to the archon responsible and politely give it back to them.”

“Politely?”

“Alright, maybe throwing it in their faces before telling them off that I don’t need it.”

“Violent as always, my dear.”

“Elemental energy is not magic anyways, we all know that, and the Hexenzirkel doesn’t often share their findings about Irminsul either...”

“Your point is…?”

“What’s ’free’ is the most expensive, even hilichurls are a problem for normal humans, yet Vision holders see them as eyesores more than anything… Everything comes with a price, Cyno, and I believe that you understand that well.”

“Indeed,” he agreed with a sigh. “For knowledge, we sacrifice time and our energy for it. And the culmination of many scholars forms this very library we are in.”

“The crystallisation of human knowledge, or so I recalled,” you agreed with a huff “but what if that’s the gods want us to believe in? Away from their true purposes in order to keep humanity under the reigns?”

“…”

“You angry? Sorry, I know that it’s disrespectful to judge on people’s faith like this, but I just can’t help but worry about the future when something big is about to happen…”

“N-no, I don’t mind, it’s just-“

“Explaining is concealing and concealing is the truth, go on.”

Cyno realised something, despite you knowing he has a Vision himself, you had come up with theories about the secrets about Visions, mostly concerning ones actually. But he understands it is a way of you caring for him, there are rumours about those who have Visions would one day disappear from the world.

You were scared that one day he would go somewhere that you cannot follow.

But as your partner, he has no intentions of it until you finally seek the answers you had longed for.

“The Geo Archon’s passing, Mondstadt’s Knights of Favonius incapable of fully stopping the Fatui, the electro Archon Baal stopped giving out Electro Visions since last year… Not to mention the Fatui following the Tsarista’s orders by any method of sort…” Cyno listed out. “Yes… It is all quite alarming…”

“But that promise we made the day we met, I have no intention of breaking it.”he reminded with a soft smile on his face.

“I am, your partner in crime after all.”

…

“Here you are again, saying things like that so easily…” you huffed, trying to contain your happiness from his words.

“Until the day I make the gods confess their intentions, I’m not letting you go anywhere without me!”

Seeing you back in your normal mood, the male smiled in relief, all that’s left is to lift your spirits up a bit more.

“I’ll treat you something sweet for lunch, what do you want?”

“W-Wha?! Umm…”

Seeing you flustered at his sudden question, Cyno knows that he had succeeded as you mumble under your breath about what you should pick.

‘Don’t worry too much about the future, try focus on what we have right now, alright?’

‘We are raging treason against the very laws of this world after all, so please allow me to enjoy such little time with you, my dear.’

XXX

I don’t know what I’m writing… QAQ

Exiled, if you want I can make a few more short dribbles about this (well mostly about how they meet and other stuff they think about-)

-lies on ground-

-and dies out of embarrassment-

-snowdrop, out

ANY CYNO CONTENT IS GOOD CONTENT, BUT THAT LORE DUMP WAS NICE AND REFRESHING. YES SNOWDROP, I DO WANT EM GIMME

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 8: Change of Heart

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 4550

Warnings: None

A/N: As always comments and feedback are appreciated! I hope you all are still enjoying the fic so far!

Prev

Next

Diavolo’s face was a welcoming sight to Solomon that morning as he left his room. He beamed the moment their eyes met and crossed the room in order to meet him. “Good morning! I trust you slept well last night?” his booming voice was almost too loud for Solomon, but it still brought a smile to his face.

“As well as a scholar can, yes.”

Well, books hadn’t been the only thing keeping him up last night. His dreams hadn't been too terribly helpful. If only he could have a little peace of mind while he slept. Maybe he’d crash tonight after his little outing. Asmo was rather high energy and Solomon had no doubt that he’d most likely be worn upon their return. Maybe he’d even sleep for a day. That would be rather nice the more he thought about it.

Diavolo nodded, “I will admit, it took me a while to get used to things here as well. It’s easy to become homesick, but Lucifer and I take visits back home every now and again. I promise it will get easier.”

“Were they all as welcoming to you as they are to me.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t here with the late king,” Diavolo shook his head, “Or maybe he would have liked you a little better than me. You aren’t the one who wanted to marry Lucifer.” That’s right, neither Azazel nor his brother had wanted Diavolo to marry the crown prince. From what he could gather, it sounded like Azazel still wasn’t fond of the union. “The point is, it takes them a while to warm up to people, but they will soon enough.”

Hopefully. Solomon seemed to be making way with the family, so he could only assume they’d start to like him soon even if just a little bit.

“In any case, how have things been with Asmodeus?”

Ah.

Oh.

“I know he was excited by the fact that you took the whole ‘Lilith’ thing well, a little melodramatic, but still happy,” Diavolo continued, “He’s been talking about how his eventual wedding would be the ball of the century ever since Lucifer and I got married.”

Solomon hadn’t even talked to him about the wedding. He’d been so caught up in learning about Arcadia that the wedding seemed more like a concept to him than an actual event that would occur soon. When was the coronation? How much time did he have left? Why had it not been more focused on his radar? Now that he thought about it more, he didn’t have a single clue about what any of his wedding plans were going to be. What food were they preparing? What times was everything occurring at? What was he supposed to wear? Were people going to witness their union? They were only a few of a long list of questions that Solomon should have known the answers to, and yet he didn’t.

It seemed like whenever Solomon solved one problem, another one arose. For whatever reason, it never occurred to him that their union would be a big event. Lucifer's would have been since he was the crown prince, but his? A small ceremony to seal them together would have sufficed. Did it really need to be big?

"He certainly has been dreaming for a while now hasn't he?"

"He certainly has," Diavolo nodded, “He has rather vivid dreams, they’re not always big in the grand scheme of things, but they’re very specific.”

So that probably meant that Asmo was hellbent on what he’d said to him last night. No matter how he tried to change the direction of his thoughts they always came back to the outing he was supposed to have today. Solomon knew love couldn’t be forced and that love was a rare thing to occur within an arranged marriage, but would Asmodeus accept that? Surely he had to know this small fact. Perhaps he was just in denial.

But why?

Why not just accept what life had given to them and be excited for the opportunities that it could provide?

“Has he talked to you about it?” Diavolo’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“About what?”

“His ideas. Surely you’ve heard some of them.

Solomon's blank expression must have said all that Diavolo needed to know. His face fell slightly. Solomon couldn't read the expression well. At first he thought that perhaps it was confusion. Disappointment? He couldn't place his finger on it. What he did know was that it made him feel uncomfortably guilty.

"Oh. I see," the pause between them was only a second too long, "You should spend more time with him. He's a kind person. Just a little-”

“High energy?” Solomon finished. Kind? Well if him ensuring Solomon that he’d fall head over heels for him was considered kind, Solomon would agree. This was the first positive thing he’d heard about his fiance the moment he’d stepped onto the grounds. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he really hadn’t heard too many good things about Asmo, only the things that he couldn’t do quite right. What could be the truth?

“Well yes, but I may have a soft spot for him,” Diavolo continued, “He was one of the few who made me feel welcomed here. ‘Anything for my big brother’s husband’ he’d say. We spent a lot of time chatting and sometimes he’d offer to take me to various places in Arcadia. All when Lucifer was busy of course.”

Maybe he had been a bit more well behaved because Diavolo was more than willing to spend time with him. Solomon was a busy man, he had research to do among other things. He couldn’t just drop his research at any time. Nonetheless, he could still contribute to the conversation. “Forgive me for saying so, but I find that a little hard to believe. Only because you seem to have a soft spot for most people you come into contact with.”

There was that booming laugh.

“Am I truly that easy to read?”

“Only a little.”

Diavolo was a genuine man. Solomon had to wonder if he had some sort of magic of his own to cause people to loosen up around him, or was he just that charismatic? Either way it made his marriage to Lucifer feel even stranger to him. How could there possibly be anything there deeper than the arrangement? Then again, according to Azazel, Diavolo seemed to have more of an influence of the crown prince.

What allowed someone to become that close?

Well, Simeon had some influence over his own decisions, but their relationship was different. Solomon would have had to been naive to think the two were equivalent. Diavolo and Lucifer had something beyond a close friendship and Solomon could see it even if he was rather confused by it.

“I think Lucifer might be your favorite person though,” he wanted to see what he said. He wanted to see how Diavolo talked about Lucifer. In a way, it was a roundabout way of him wanting to know more about the elusive eldest.

Diavolo seemed to melt right before him, his eyes turned gooey and warm and his body relaxed. “Perhaps, he’s a wonderful man and stunningly beautiful. The most ethereal being I’ve ever seen, sometimes I doubt that he’s human,” he sighed, “He’s intelligent too and an absolutely capable ruler.”

“You admire him.”

“I love him,” Diavolo corrected, “I’d do anything for him, I’d give my own life for him.”

Solomon didn’t know why those words threw him off. Giving up your life. Would Solomon do that for anyone? He wasn’t sure. He had people that he wanted to protect, yes. But giving up his own life? Thinking about that wasn’t something he wanted to do at the moment or later. It was a morbid concept.

“Asmo is quite smitten with you,” Solomon was vaguely aware that Diavolo was still talking, “He was completely fine when he left, but when he came back he was spellbound. I think it was good for him to have a little joy.”

It was easy to forget that the family was dealing with two deaths: the King and their sister. There had also been supposed assasination attempts. How much tragedy followed the family around?

It didn’t mean that he was going to give in to Asmodeus’ every demand, but he would try to keep those things in mind.

“It feels good to see him lively again, he was so anxious when it came to pretending, I know I was relieved that you took it all well.”

“I’m happy he’s not anxious anymore as well, I was worried I was doing something wrong. I’m glad to know that that wasn’t the case.”

Diavolo’s hand grabbed the handle to the door to the caverns as he turned back to Solomon, “We should talk more, I heard you’re going to have an outing today and I’d love to hear more.”

***

“Will you ever be on time for any meal?” Asmo huffed, crossing his arms.

“Maybe one day,” Solomon hummed, taking a seat, “But I did show up.”

“If you showed up early we could spend a little time together before everyone else got here.”

Solomon noticed that Asmodeus wasn’t looking at him. Following his gaze, Solomon saw that he was staring at Lucifer and Diavolo. Diavolo had his hand on the crown prince’s shoulder. He leaned down close to his ear and said something that made Lucifer smile ever so slightly and chuckle. He mouthed the word sit, and Diavolo took his place next to him. It was incredibly tender. No one else seemed to pay it any mind, but Asmo’s fingers gripped at the table.

“I might be able to come sooner if someone wouldn’t mind teaching me how to navigate the castle.”

He noticed Asmodeus nod slowly, but he didn’t look towards him. What had gotten into him? What about Lucifer and Diavolo had him so fixated? Unfortunately his little novice charm didn’t give him all of those answers. Did he dare reach up to see what he was feeling? It could give him an idea of how to steer the conversations.

His hand wandered towards his chest. But before his fingertips could brush against the pendant, Diavolo’s butler entered the room. “Breakfast will be out shortly, but I do have tea ready.”

Barbatos started at the head of the table, pouring tea for each member and setting out small biscuits. When had been the last time he came to breakfast? He came to other meals sure, but most of the time Simeon brought it back to him as he often slept through it.

“Welcome your majesty,” Barbatos said, pouring the steaming liquid into his cup, “It’s lovely to have you join us this morning.”

“Oh thank you.”

“Your scribe seemed to be getting tired of you missing meals.” Wasn’t he the bold one? “Anything in your tea?”

“No thank you.”

Barbatos nodded and moved on to Asmodeus.

“No cream or anything? Really?” Asmodeus leaned over to look at his cup.

“Really. I stay up rather late, and sugar makes you crash.”

“Then what about sugar rushes?”

“It’s a temporary rush. It won’t last in the long run.”

Lucifer had taken his tea black as well, so why was it so intriguing to Asmo that he might drink his own in a similar fashion? It was almost like it was some sort of secret or big surprise to his fiance.

“You really are a serious guy aren’t you.”

Now what was that supposed to mean?

“Does that mean you no longer want to go out?”

“No!” Asmo jumped in quickly, eyes going wide, “No we’re still going out. You can’t get away from me that easily.”

“I didn’t suspect that I would, You seemed rather determined.”

“Well good! You shouldn’t think that you could get away.”

Solomon snorted. He looked around the table to each of the members. Levi wasn’t fighting with Mammon like they’d been on the first day he got here. While the two of them weren’t talking, they seemed to be getting along better. Satan was focused on a book from his library, one that he’d have to remember to ask him about later. The twins sat silently. Well, Beel sat silently, Belphegor was asleep. Solomon also noticed that unlike the rest of his siblings, he was dressed in black. Had he been dressed in mourning attire when he arrived?

“Husband!” Asmo sang waving his hand in front of his face, “You should be paying attention to meee.”

“He ain’t your husband yet Asmo,” Mammon chuckled, before Solomon could even get a word in, “And he won’t be if you scare him away.”

“I won’t scare him away!”

A few of the other brothers snickered from around the table as Belphie opened one of his eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, “When you met him you weren’t you.”

Solomon heard a bit of an edge to his voice. It wasn’t playful like Mammon’s had been.

“Enough,” Lucifer held up his hand, “It’s too early for this. We’re going to have a nice breakfast as a family or else I’ll banish you from Arcadia.”

“Aw come on Luci, you wouldn’t banish your baby brother would ya?” Mammon asked, leaning a little closer and batting his lashes.

Lucifer only narrowed his eyes, “Don’t test me.”

***

“Mammon runs the treasury, Levi is the head of the navy, Satan holds the records, and the twins split agriculture. Belphie takes care of the animals when it comes to stuff like milk and eggs and Beel takes care of crops and beef,” Asmo had been talking the entire ride down to his sector. He counted off each one of his siblings on his fingers as he named them off. He’d chosen to sit shoulder to shoulder with Solomon instead of across from him. Not that he was surprised. Asmodeus was rather clingy. “Lucifer as the head stays in the center and oversees all of Arcadia. He wasn’t always the welcome committee, but he had to take over. Luckily he has Diavolo for that now.”

Solomon shifted trying to give himself more room only for Asmo to follow him, “And what do you do?”

Asmo grinned, “Oh showing interest? Well, if you must know, my district takes care of little self care items. Lotions, perfumes, flowers, pretty things. Honestly mine is the best. Sure the other things are important I suppose, but what is life without beauty? My district is the most beautiful and therefore it's the best.”

Well, that seemed a bit shallow. Was looks the only thing he really cared about? All of the other things he had listed were equally important. How could he undermine them for the sake of his own? Every element came together to make a community. No one aspect held everything together alone.

“You’re going to love it. I can’t believe I haven’t taken you here sooner! Well I kind of can, after all I wouldn’t have been able to if- Well, you know.”

The carriage stopped and Asmodeus immediately seemed to perk up. The carriage bounced with him as he waited for the chauffeur. As soon as the door opened, he took Solomon’s hand and walked the two of them out. The first thing he noticed was a few timid townsfolk peeking out from behind their doors or windows or even stared from their stands.They seemed fixed on Asmo. Of course Solomon remembered that many of them most likely stayed hidden or on a low profile because of the death of the king along with the threats. It was nice to see some other life around. A royal being around probably put them at a higher risk.

“Hello my adoring darlings!” Asmo sang, “I’ve decided to treat you all with a visit today, and I’ve brought my soon to be husband to see all of you! Make sure you show him just how wonderful you all are!”

Solomon caught the sweet scent he usually associated with Asmo wafting from one of the shops. So, they did come from here. How frequently did Asmo visit? Slowly people emerged from their houses and stands and continued to go about their days. Asmo grinned at him and took his hand.

“Come on, I want to show you around.”

Asmo spent most of the time talking about himself. Asking if Solomon thought he looked pretty, if his town was the best one he'd ever seen. That was the last thing he really remembered as he started to tune Asmo out at that point. There was so much he could take of this man just talking about himself. He figured that he might learn something about his fiance, but it turns out he was wrong. Did Asmo seriously think that this would get Solomon to like him? He knew what Diavolo had said, but still.

Was he really that nice?

Or was he more like what he'd heard Azazel describe?

Whatever the case, he was trying too hard to impress him.

Asmo led him towards the center of the square and turned to face Solomon, “If I can get some musicians together, would you like to dance with me?”

“Oh, well, I’m not the best dancer,” he could at social events if he had to, but it wasn’t something that he would do in his free time. The idea of there being a possible audience also made him nervous. He stepped back and looked around, "Perhaps another time."

Asmo's face fell slightly, but he let Solomon step back. It almost seemed as if he was trying to think about what to say to convince Solomon to change his mind.

"I think I'd like to meet some of your people and to look at the products they create," Solomon continued, taking note of the plant life around him. Each of them seemed to have some sort of pink tint to them. At least the color themes seemed consistent.

"Of course."

The people were seemed rather intimidated by him. Not that he blamed him. He was an outsider king and a rather prominent figure at that. He was going to marry their prince. He took notes as they wandered. After all, he was going to have a say when it came to this place, he should know more about it.

Asmo’s chattering eventually dulled with each increasingly listless response Solomon gave and he scribbled away in his notes. Perhaps he finally understood that Solomon needed to focus, that he needed quiet if he was going to make any progress in his studies. He paused in his strides when he came to a patch of flowers surrounded by tiny metal arches.

They smelled impossibly sweet, almost as sweet as Asmo's perfumes. What were they? They weren't anything that Solomon was familiar with. He was certain they didn’t have them back at home. This was something he could ask his fiance about. It was only when he turned to ask him did he realize that Asmo wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen actually.

His eyes glanced around the area. Surely he couldn’t have gone that far? Was he really that upset by the fact that Solomon wouldn’t dance with him?

He plucked one of the flowers and started to try to retrace his steps to find his fiance. This was supposed to be a date between the two of them. Of course he would lose his fiance here. Of course his fiance would run out without telling him. Of course. Of course it had to be this way. Of course his fiance couldn’t have been reasonable. Of course-

There were children laughing.

Children?

“You’re doing so well!” his fiance was standing among them, engaging in their little games. This was a different side of him. They were all in a little circle with their hands linked. Sometimes the children would break the chain and run around before finding new spots.

He wasn't striving to impress them, perhaps because they were children (and easy to impress).

He's a kind person.

Diavolo had said he was kind. Solomon had been skeptical. The more he watched, the more he realized that perhaps he’d been wrong. He’d judged him too harshly. Perhaps he hadn’t been as level headed as he thought.

Watching him laugh and play with the little ones was certainly an experience all on it’s own. He seemed like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Solomon also had another realization.

Asmo had a different type of worry plaguing his mind. He’d been nervous that Solomon would reject him because he wasn’t Lilith sure, but after he’d been worried that Solomon wouldn’t be impressed with him. His worries transformed and were presenting themselves through a different outlet. Solomon hadn’t been paying attention because Asmo was smitten with him, which was the minimum that he needed.

He could be good to him.

He could be kind to him.

It seemed like Solomon hadn’t been doing the best job at doing those things the more he dwelled on it. To put it frankly, he’d been ignorant. Solomon couldn’t even say that he wasn’t completely unaware of how he’d been acting. He hadn’t been terrible to Asmodeus, but he certainly hadn’t been good or kind either. He could have been better.

One of the kids must have tripped or something, because the next thing Solomon knew he heard sobbing.

“Oh darling, it’s alright, hush now. It’s only a scrape,” Asmo’s voice carried to Solomon’s ears. It was soothing, it felt safe. It lit something inside of him, a feeling that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Whatever it was, Solomon knew he enjoyed it. His voice alone could convince the tension to leave his body and place his mind at ease. It felt like if Asmo said it was alright then everything had to be alright. Slowly the sobs settled and the child buried their head into Asmo’s shoulder. Slender fingers ran through their hair in an attempt to sooth them.

Solomon realized that this was a third face he had never seen from his fiance before. How many more could he possibly have? What more did Solomon have left to discover?

“I thought you didn’t like kids,” the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. No thought ran through him, only an action that he chastised himself for.

Asmo jumped ever so slightly and turned to face him. He seemed surprised to see Solomon there, more surprised than Solomon thought he should be. “What brought you to that conclusion?” he asked.

“Your reaction to the rabbits.”

“Ah well,” Asmo laughed slightly, “You still thought I was someone else then, and I’m not exactly capable of giving you children in that sense. I do love the little ones though, they’re the cutest little things.” Asmo poked the child’s nose earning a soft little giggle, “Aren’t you all?”

He stopped for a moment, scrunching up his brow before turning to Solomon, “What brought you here? You seemed… busy in your own little world.”

Oh, so he’d been ignoring him, and unfortunately Solomon knew it wasn’t the first time he’d been aware of this. He was just more aware of it than he’d like to be at the moment.

He cleared his throat before holding up the flower, “I had been curious about some of your plants and wanted to ask you a few questions, but I see that you’re busy right now.”

Solomon glanced at the rest of the children standing behind him and thought. He was curious about the game, and he hadn’t been giving his fiance much mind as of late. “Would you mind if I watched your game?”he asked.

It was fun to watch them play. The way the children interacted with the fifth prince was adorable to say the least. At some point, they’d managed to talk Solomon into playing. There was no better way to learn than to participate. He wasn’t great at it, but the children seemed to enjoy him fumbling about squealing with absolute delight. Asmo had even joined in, and oh Solomon had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed his laugh.

When it came time for the children to return to their families for lunch, Asmo led him into town to meet more of the locals. They showed him their wears and how they went about making their soothing lotions and sweet perfumes. To his surprise a few of them had also been magic users. They didn’t have strong magic, but it did help with relaxation, recreation, and with what plants the little town did have. In other words, it seemed like it could also be utilized for healing in the form of muscle relaxants or even helping in the production of certain medicines.

They all also seemed to enjoy Asmo.

This hadn’t been what he thought it would be at all. In fact, Solomon was enjoying their little date. Watching Asmo interact with the people of his sector was certainly more enjoyable than him trying too hard to impress him. Solomon liked this side of Asmo. He was relaxed and his eyes were soft and tender. There was a beauty about him that was being reflected outward.

For the first time, Solomon truly felt like he was getting a glance at his soul.

“Your majesty?” a young woman approached Asmo, violin in her hand, “Would you like music?”

Solomon wasn’t sure what possessed him to look up in that moment, but he realized how many eyes were on them. No. How many eyes were on him. Then he remembered. Asmo would be giving up his position in marrying him. That meant that Solomon would now have say over anything that happened. For the first time what that really meant hit Solomon. Asmo would no longer have control over his sector, and his people were worried. They didn’t know anything about Solomon, and neither did Asmo.

He wanted him to love him.

He wanted him to respect him.

Asmo was just as scared, and Solomon had been stupid enough to miss it all.

“On any other day that would be lovely my dear, but I’m afraid my-”

“You mentioned wanting to dance earlier,” Solomon cut in, bowing ever so slightly, “Consider this my apology for being so rude and ignoring you.”

Joy radiated from the prince. Solomon could feel his warmth buzzing all around them as they headed back to the center of town.

This didn’t mean Solomon was in love.

But this did mean that he was going to try harder.

He was going to give the prince what he deserved and show him that he didn’t need to worry.

Solomon would take care of things.

The music started up, the woman with the violin leading in a few other instruments as they joined hands. Solomon wasn’t a fantastic dancer, but it didn’t seem to matter to Asmodeus. It was such a simple want.

Ah. Yet how quickly a fairytale-esque picture can shatter.

Solomon didn’t even register hearing the whistle of the arrow as he pulled Asmodeus in close and it scraped his sleeve, barely missing his fiance.

[officialscaramouche]

Companions

pairing: Chongyun x Xingqiu

summary: After being transported to ten years in the future, Xingqiu finds the harbor in disarray. Desperate to find answers, he sought out his best friend, Chongyun, to no avail. Chongyun's home, too, is found falling apart and Xingqiu realizes that his friend is gone as well. He takes the opportunity to reminisce by going through Chongyun's room when a strange man wearing the exorcist clan's colors walks in.

warnings: none

word count: 4,522

also posted on ao3!

Ch. 2 of 5 < prev | next >

Xingqiu looks at the back of the stranger in front of him. They’re tall, about as tall as his older brother. His shoulders aren’t broad, but they’re wider than the average. The man wore a pristine, white Wudang robe with a strikingly familiar navy blue clan banner that hung beneath the shirt. He donned a hood that loosely hung from his head, blue and gold trim that lined the outfit. “Your wear…” Xingqiu hushed, stepping forward slightly and reaching out subconsciously. “These colors...the pattern...why do you wear them?”

The man turned to look over his shoulder slightly, his hood hiding all but his nose that peeked out from behind the fabric. “Because it is mine.” He says curtly, turning back to face the inside of the drawer.

“Are you a fanboy?” The stranger asked after a moment.

Xingqiu was taken off guard, pulling his hand back. “Of the Taoist exorcist clan? No—”

“No, of Xingqiu. The author of the Cursed Claymore series.” The man pulled out a box and placed it gently on the table. He tinkered with the locking mechanism for a moment before popping it open and pulling objects out.

“What? I am Xingqiu. Heir to Feiyun Commerce. Apprentice of the Guhua Martial Arts Clan.” The man stilled, his hands halting their search within the box. He turned, fully this time, facing Xingqiu. The boy couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Feiyun Commerce went under almost half a decade ago. And the Guhua Clan is extinct.”

Xingqiu placed a hand over his mouth, tears welling in his eyes as he was hit by a surge of turbulent emotions. “Y-You!”

“This is not funny, fanboy. I know Xingqiu personally. He would never trespass into my family’s home like this!”

Xingqiu sticks a thumb into his chest. “I am Xingqiu! Heir to Feiyun Commerce and apprentice to the G-Guhua...Believe me! I don’t know what’s going on! Chongyun, you have to help me get back home!”

The man takes a defensive stance, pointing harshly at the scholar. “How do you know my name?!”

“Because I am Xingqiu! Your best friend, Xingqiu!”

“Quit playing with me! What do you mean by ‘home?!’ Your home at the harbor is gone!”

“I mean that I was reading this book and then— and suddenly, I was here! Not home! Liyue Harbor was normal! I had just left home, I just spoke with my father! I was waiting for you, and then— please! I don’t know!”

The older, battle-worn Chongyun lowered his shoulders, his eyes sharp as he watched Xingqiu closely. “This book— let me see it.” Xingqiu meekly extends the book forward, Chongyun swiping it roughly from his hands. The exorcist begins flipping through it carefully, his eyes scanning the pages.

Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, Xingqiu watched nervously. “I-I don’t know what it says. I can’t read it…”

“This is enochian,” Chongyun states as he continues to read the book.

“You can read it?”

“No. But I recognize it. Many evil spirits use enochian to communicate with the living, but it’s mostly used for demonic practices.” Xingqiu swallows, looking to his fingers as he toyed with them nervously. “Where did you get this?”

“Ah...Wanwen this morning.”

“The bookstore? Near the tea house?”

“Yeah, my favorite one.”

Chongyun eyed Xingqiu suspiciously before returning to the book. “I can see why you called this a diary.”

Xingqiu perked up, walking towards the exorcist, grabbing onto his arm to peer over onto the pages. “What can you read?”

Chongyun grimaces at the sudden intrusive touch, but points to the book. “It’s written from the author’s point of view. Here it’s talking about meeting with a medium. Something about someone dying. But it could be anybody. In my experience, this demon only seems to seek out exorcists and mediums.”

Xingqiu pouts, furrowing his brows. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Chongyun shoves Xingqiu off his arm and closes the book, pressing it into the scholar’s chest. “I don’t know, you tell me, fanboy.”

“I’m telling you! This is the custom-made outfit that I got measured for back when I learned I was to be the heir!”

Chongyun smirks and crosses his arms. “You know your stuff. I wonder where you read that.”

Xingqiu stomped his foot and shook his finger in Chongyun’s face. “I’m serious!!”

Chongyun rolled his eyes and turned back to look into the box he found. “Okay ‘Serious,’ help me look for something.”

Xingqiu sat back on the bed and crossed his legs, turning his nose upward. “No.”

Chongyun sighed and dropped his head. “Maybe you really are Xingqiu because nobody’s got an attitude like him.” Xingqiu smiled proudly to himself at the half-insult. “But fine. You’d only get in my way anyways.”

“No! I can help!”

“I don’t want your help.”

Xingqiu skipped over to the exorcist and peered into the box. “What are you looking for?”

“Some lecture notes. The last time I was here I had to quickly seal everything up.” The older man gives Xingqiu a knowing look. “But I figured that since it’s already broken I might as well look for what I need.”

“Lecture notes? Why?”

“Because this is no normal you hun ye gui. And...frankly I didn’t pay attention to my lectures. Ugh, it’s not here.” Chongyun slammed the box shut and moved over to his bookshelf, noting the adult novel laying on the floor. Chongyun gave Xingqiu a glare, but the scholar looked away and whistled, pretending to not notice.

Chongyun pulled out some textbooks and journals. He flipped through them hurriedly, throwing them to the side haphazardly when they proved of no import. “You should treat those texts a little better,” Xingqiu tutted, picking up the books and dusting them off, placing them gently on the drawer.

Chongyun rolled his eyes. “‘You should treat those books better,’” he mocked.

“When did you get so grumpy.”

“I’ve always been grumpy. I just never voiced it when I was a kid.”

Xingqiu crossed his arms. “No, you’re not grumpy. And you have a pretty fine time expressing your feelings to me.”

Chongyun stood, dropping the last notebook to the floor after learning nothing about what he needed. “You think you know it all, don’t you fanboy?” Chongyun pushed past the young scholar and stalked out of the room.

“Hey!” Xingqiu shouted out, running after the exorcist. “Where are you going?”

“To the study,” Chongyun replies, not looking back as he made his way down the stairs. Xingqiu follows behind him, quickly making his way down, watching Chongyun turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

Xingqiu was a little giddy. He’d never seen the clan’s study before but Chongyun always complained that it was ‘too big’ and had ‘too many books to read,’ so he imagined it was a second heaven for him right after Wanwen. Boy was he wrong.

It was better than he imagined. He watched as Chongyun pushed the heavy wooden door, the bottom scraping the planks of the floor. “Stupid door,” Chongyun hissed, kicking it. Xingqiu walked in with large glassy eyes, his mouth hanging open. “Close your mouth before you breathe in too much dust,” Chongyun said, wiping his nose with his shirt after sneezing.

“This collection is incredible!” Xingqiu looked the walls up and down. The walls were made of inset shelves. The only space not lined with books was where the two small circular windows sat. Even the floor was littered with books, as the shelves were all fully stacked with two or three rows of tomes laying on each shelf. “You read all of these?”

“Unfortunately,” Chongyun sneers, pulling up a wooden stool. “Can’t say I remember any of them that I don’t practice.”

Xingqiu climbed the nearby ladder and began to run his fingers down each spine. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve come over more!”

“They’re boring. And these books are only used for studying exorcism. My dad wouldn’t have let you in anyways.” Chongyun slams a book onto the desk below him. “Ugh, not here either…”

“I would’ve paid him to let me— wait so you believe me now?”

“About what?”

“That I’m the real Xingqiu.”

Chongyun laughs. “Oh, no. But it’s nice to pretend.” Chongyun gets down from the stool and walks around, eyeing the titles of the books he walks past. “I haven’t spoken to Xingqiu in almost a year.”

Xingqiu looks back to Chongyun, a frown on his face. “Why not?”

“Hm. We’re both busy. We both have lives.”

“But I love spending time with you.”

Chongyun pulls out another book and flips it open. “You also have a career. Like I do.”

Xingqiu jumps down the ladder and meanders over to the exorcist. “Can you tell me about myself? Like what I’m doing now?”

Chongyun points to the ladder. “No. Help me look, please.”

Xingqiu stomps his foot. “Why! I just want to know!”

“Because you should know already, fanboy. I’m looking for anything on the topic of guidance talismans, unique talismans, stubborn demons, and demons that don’t kill. Well, don’t kill normally.”

Xingqiu huffs and rolls his eyes, walking to a random shelf to start looking for any book that hints at any of those topics. “You’re bossy.”

“And you’re annoying.”

Xingqiu stares blankly at the books in front of him. “Do you mean that?”

“Absolutely.” Chongyun turns from the shelf and walks to the desk, opening the drawers.

“Have you always thought of me like that?”

Chongyun stops, purses his lips and stares at the ceiling. “No, Xingqiu was never annoying to me. But you, you’re annoying.”

“I am Xingqiu!”

“Whatever.”

The two search for books in silence for a period before Chongyun breaks the silence. Xingqiu has a small stack of books that might have something important. “Aha!” Chongyun slaps a small scrap of paper onto the desk. “Fanboy, come see this.”

Xingqiu picks up his stack of books and trudges over to the desk. “What is it? Who drew that? It’s horrible.”

Chongyun flicks the scholar. “I did.” He flattens out the wrinkled paper. “It’s the talisman I’m looking for. It’s a guidance talisman. They’re very rare and very difficult to make. It takes a master exorcist to make one, and most masters can’t make one.”

“Are you a master exorcist?”

“No...my mom was, though. The strongest in my family...but not even she could make one.”

“What do you need it for?”

Chongyun grabs the book at the top of Xingqiu’s stack, pushing it to the side after reading the title. He picks up the next, and does the same thing. “Do you have Demons, Deities, and the Paranormal? By Po Lang.”

Xingqiu looks at the books quickly. “No, let me look.”

Chongyun grabs his wrist. “No, it’s okay. The you hun ye gui is a lost soul. They’re easy to quell when you know who the soul is and what keeps them here with the living. But this you hun ye gui has been lost for a long time. I doubt any of its relatives are alive or remember who it was. Without that person’s belongings or without knowing what it wants, I can’t send the soul on to the afterlife. I need a guidance talisman to guide it.”

Xingqiu looks at the books he has and opens the one he has on talismans. “Have you encountered this demon already?”

Chongyun crumples the paper in his fist and hangs his head. “Yes...for a very brief moment.”

Xingqiu looks at the exorcist with worry. “Is that when…”

“Yes. I was coming home from a job in Sumeru...I hadn’t seen my family in months. My mom wrote me a letter saying that she’d make my favorite food when I got home. I was looking forward to it.” Chongyun chews his lip, fighting back tears. Xingqiu stood in silence. “When I got here, my cousin Lam was the only one alive...it killed him as soon as I saw them. I chased after it, but it feared my yang energy and got away. I didn’t want to go too far, anyways. My family was scattered across the yard.”

Xingqiu looks out the window and eyes the freshly dug mounds. Chongyun must’ve buried them, he thinks. “I-I’m sorry, Chongyun…” Xingqiu wiped the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

“You just missed it. This was, what, not even a week ago?”

“And that’s why you’re looking for it, right?”

“Yes. I need to send that demon on. It already tormented the harbor. Everyone fled three years ago.”

“Ah...that’s why it’s empty.”

“And that’s why my family stayed here. This you hun ye gui is stuck in this area. It won’t go anywhere else. The harbor was always a lively area, there’s no way I’d be able to find the one thing it wants.”

“If there isn’t anything here, what can we do to stop the demon?”

Chongyun looks towards the windows in thought. “There’s a library Xingqiu told me about near Wangshu Inn. Very well-hidden. He said he found volumes of very specific, niche topics. Maybe we can find something there?”

Xingqiu nodded, pushing the rest of the books in his stack to Chongyun. “Here’s what I’ve found so far. Look at these, I’ll keep looking.”

Xingqiu climbed back up the ladder and began pulling books one by one, reading the title, checking for an index, and reading a little bit of each text. Chongyun watched the young scholar for a moment, chuckling, before inspecting the books in front of him.

Chongyun kicked the heavy door again as he walked in, throwing back the cup in his hand. “Here,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tapping Xingqiu’s shoulder with the other cup in his hand.

“Ah, thank you,” Xingqiu grins, dabbing his sleeve onto his forehead, gathering the sweat there.

“Really, you can stop now. I accepted a commission in that area, so we have to go anyway.” Chongyun leaned back on the desk and crossed his feet, taking another sip from his drink.

Xingqiu dropped the book in his lap dramatically and slouched forward, letting out a loud throaty groan. “I’m finally onto something, I swear!”

“Look at you!” Chongyun gestured vaguely to the mess that Xingqiu sat in: scrolls rolled out in every direction, open books stacked on other opened books, a stain in the wood where he spilled the ink pot, his shoes and socks off and discarded in different corners of the room. “Get up, we gotta go.”

Chongyun hooked his arms underneath Xingqiu’s pits and dragged him to the door. “No! I’ve a lead!”

“Ah!” Xingqiu tripped over himself for possibly the hundredth time this afternoon. Chongyun grabbed a firm hold on the young boy’s forearm before he fell and split his head open.

Pushing the scholar forward, Chongyun smacked the back of his head. “I told you to stop kicking rocks! Quit it, you’re like a child!”

“I am a child!” Xingqiu slaps the exorcist pathetically in the chest. He furrows his brow and looks Chongyun up and down, pulling his hand back hesitantly before gently pushing back again.

“What.” Chongyun growls, grabbing Xingqiu’s wrist.

“Hm. You’re...firm.” The boy turns on his heels and proudly stomps away.

Chongyun smiles, albeit confused, and checks the ad he picked up on a bulletin. Please! I need someone to free me from the terror! Six hilichurls have made camp along my route in the Guili Plains! Halfway to Wangshu Inn, near the ruins! Chongyun looked at his surroundings. “Hey--”

Xingqiu widely swung his arms as he walked. “Do you think I can grow muscle? How did you get your muscles?” Chongyun wrapped an arm around Xingqiu’s waist and half-threw the boy off the road. Xingqiu rolled in the loose dirt, hitting his head on the ground. “Hey!” He shouted, rubbing the back of his head. “Why’d you--” Above him, Chongyun held a wide stance, his back hunched as he held up his claymore.

Chongyun’s clan’s banner blew gently, the blue and gold contrast beaming off the sunlight. “Stay down! The commission--” A hilichurl leapt out from a nearby bush, holding it’s fists high above it’s head. Chongyun quickly held up the side of his blade, blocking the attack. “Eugh!”

Chongyun swings his blade to the side, shoving the hilichurl aside. Chongyun jumps, slamming down his blade onto the hilichurl. It dodges with a roll, and leaps once more toward Chongyun. It tackles him, encouraging the other hilichurls to jump from hiding. “Chongyun!” Xingqiu darts out and unsheathes his sword, striking one of the hilichurls on top and pinning it to the ground. It squirms beneath him as Xingqiu holds it down with a foot, pulling the blade out of the hilichurl’s chest, and piercing it’s skull. Behind him, Chongyun grunts, grabbing his attention.

Chongyun swings his claymore upwards, sending a gust of icy wind that sends the hilichurls’ bodies hurling. Of the four, three lay motionless on the ground. The remaining one weakly crawls away, grasping for grains of dirt for support. Chongyun lugs his claymore over his shoulder as he stalks over to the last hilichurl. He raises his claymore by the hilt with both hands, bracing himself with a wide foot stance. Xingqiu looks away when Chongyun plunges the blade downwards.

The hilichurls begin to dissipate one by one, turning into black and red dust. Xingqiu places both hands on the ground to support him as he stood up. Chongyun stepped up in front of the boy and extended a hand to help him to his feet. “Thanks for your help.”

Xingqiu sheaths his sword and dusts off his shorts. “You still use the same claymore.”

With a wave of his hand, Chongyun’s blade vanishes. “Are you still trying to convince me that you’re really Xingqiu?”

“No,” Xingqiu sorted his messy hair, slipping his long bangs out of his face. “I just thought you’d use the one your mom gave you.”

Chongyun lowers his gaze as he thinks of the birthday gift. His mother gave him her favorite sword when he finally donned the title of exorcist and was able to do jobs on his own. “It means too much to me,” he explains. “I ended up giving it to you to take care of.”

Xingqiu puts a finger to his chin. “Me?”

Chongyun smiled shyly, scratching his neck. “Ahem, Xingqiu I mean. He doesn’t go out much anymore.” The exorcist waved his hand forward. “Come on, let’s start looking for the library.”

Xingqiu beams, eyeing the exorcist knowingly. “Where did I say this library was?”

“Uh, near some ruins. It was hard to understand him because he was really excited.”

Xingqiu puts his fists on either hip. “I am so smart and I know everything!”

“Except how to shut up and be helpful!”

Xingqiu covered the sun from his eyes with a hand, peering into the distance. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Chongyun opened his map and turned it every which way. “Sure. I’ll humor you this time.”

“Do I have a girlfriend?”

Chongyun turns and glares at the boy. “Really?” Xingqiu nodded expectantly. Sighing, Chongyun put a hand on his waist and looked to the sky in thought. “Not right now— he did before, though, when he first inherited the company.”

Xingqiu jumped up and grabbed Chongyun’s hand. “Was she pretty? What’s her name! Why did we break up?”

Chongyun pulled his hand back and laughed. “She was alright, but he thought she was pretty. That’s all that mattered.” Xingqiu waited expectantly for him to continue. “Uh...he was too busy to have a relationship. She wanted all of his time but he didn’t have any to give her. He hasn’t dated since. He says he’s just not interested.”

Xingqiu puffs his cheeks in a pout. “That’s lame! Are you sure he’s the real me?”

“Are you sure you’re the real Xingqiu? He’s more mature than he was before. Besides, he likes his solitude now.”

Xingqiu stomps his feet as he walked on, Chongyun closely behind. “I bet I wished you came over more.”

Chongyun rolled up his map and slapped the back of Xingqiu’s head. “He understands that I’m busy. Now enough, we have to find this library. Keep an eye out for a camp so I can collect this commission. It’s weird, though, that there were only five hilichurls. The ad said six.”

Xingqiu, walking a bit ahead, points to the distance. “What’s going on over there?”

“Huh?” Chongyun squints to see further.

“It looks like...a man? And—”

“And the you hun ye gui!!”

Chongyun breaks into a sprint, summoning his claymore once more into his right hand. “W-Wait!” Xingqiu scrambles as he chases after the exorcist.

The book didn’t describe the you hun ye gui— at least, what he could read. So he wasn’t sure what it would look like...but he was terrified. The demon was huge, standing three feet taller than the man there, and as wide as half a house. The demon was dark brown and black, with bright yellow eyes. Horns stuck out of its head, claws growing out of its fingers. He felt himself tremble as he got closer.

He watched as the demon swiped its right hand and knocked the man back, throwing him to the side. Chongyun let out a feral shout as he threw his claymore over his shoulder to swing it forward with a mighty force. “Ch-Chongyun! Be careful!”

The demon looks at Chongyun and roars, shaking the ground with its strength. But, after sensing the overwhelming amount of yang energy, the demon runs away instead of staying to fight the exorcist. “You bitch! Come here!” Chongyun stops abruptly before the man laying on the ground and watches the demon take off over the hills. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Chongyun bites to himself, kneeling down to check the man’s wounds. “Are you alright?”

Xingqiu stumbles up to the two, panting. “Chongyun…” he breathes. “Please be careful!”

“It ran away! Like a coward!”

“Still!”

The man on the ground coughs up blood, groaning in pain. Xingqiu pulls his hair behind his ears and kneels down. “We’re gonna help you, stay still—”

“No,” the man waves his hand frantically. “I’m not going to make it. Please—”

Chongyun cradles the man’s head as he lays him down. “Where are you hurt?”

“Really, I don’t want the help!”

“Who are you?” Xingqiu asks, pressing two fingers to the man’s wrist.

“My name is Zhang Wei, I’m a medium.”

Chongyun quirks an eyebrow and fishes into his pocket. Xingqiu smiles warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Zhang Wei. I’m Xingqiu, heir to Feiyun--”

Chongyun hangs the ad in front of Zhang Wei’s face. “Zhang Wei, I completed your commission, I ask for pay.”

Zhang Wei laughs, raising his brows at the exorcist. “I have no money.” Chongyun scowls and stands, balling his fists at his side. “You’re an exorcist. You know why I have no money, boy. Look, you’re desperate for some too.”

Chongyun crumples up the ad and throws it at the medium. “Don’t hang ads if you can’t pay for the job.” The exorcist turns to walk away, stopping before taking the first step. He fists his pocket and takes out a small satchel. He throws it to the scholar. “Herbs. For the pain.”

Xingqiu looks at the little mesh satchel, tied with a blue silk ribbon. He finds it nostalgic despite never seeing it before. He unties the satchel, ushering for Zhang Wei to show him the wound. “It won't hurt for much longer,” he sings, rubbing the herbal paste on his wounds.

Xingqiu turns in circles, scanning the orange horizon for Chongyun. “Chongyun!” He calls out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Chongyun!!” Xingqiu made his way to the top of a hill for a better vantage point; from there he spots Chongyun sitting around some rocks looking at the sunset. “There you are,” he sighs, skipping down the hill.

Chongyun stared at his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked to the side when he heard Xingqiu’s delicate footsteps. Xingqiu takes a seat by his feet. “Are you deaf now, too?” He chides, elbowing his leg.

“Sorry,” Chongyun breathes, turning his head away.

“Oh, no I was just joking.”

“No, I’m sorry for leaving you behind. First when I saw the you hun ye gui, and again when Zhang Wei had no money for me.”

Xingqiu gently rubs Chongyun’s arm. He flinches a little, but lets him touch him. “Don’t worry about it! You chased after the you hun ye gui because you’re upset. I can tell that you’re a little more accepting of your emotions. It was hard to tell what you were feeling back when you and I were the same age.”

“No, it’s not that…” Chongyun trails off, taking in a deep breath. “I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Xingqiu presses. “I may not be the real Xingqiu anyways.”

Chongyun snorts, rolling his head to the side. “You’re a damn good fanboy, you know that?” Xingqiu grins, entertaining his older friend.

“Come on, tell me.”

“Ah, fine.” Chongyun slides off the rock and sits beside Xingqiu on the grass, staring into the setting sun. “The advice Xingqiu gave me...when we were younger. You know, about my yang energy. Instead of trying to reduce my yang energy, I should find a demon that’s immune to it.” Xingqiu nods. “Well...I did. It had been years after I was already considered a full-fledged exorcist. We were both grown adults at this point. I...got too confident. And I got really hurt. It left me...unable to work. I had to stay home in bed and rest.” Xingqiu frowns as he watches Chongyun talk, observing his expressions and listening to the tone of his voice. “This time, you were too busy for me. I kept asking for you to come by but you were always doing something. I was just so bored by myself in the bed.” Chongyun stops to chuckle. “The one time you came by, it was for fleeting minutes. You simply said hello, apologized for not coming over more, and gave me medicine. The same medicine you gave to Zhang Wei…”

“Well, if you needed it, why didn’t you use it!” Xingqiu puffed out his cheeks. “I oughtta have a talk with me!”

Chongyun ruffled Xingqiu’s hair playfully. “It’s okay. I like seeing him busy. I like knowing that he’s happy and not bored. But still...I do miss him. And that’s why I kept it instead, because I don’t get to see him often.”

Xingqiu stood abruptly. “Let’s go see me.”

“Huh?” Chongyun looked up at Xingqiu with a surprised look.

Xingqiu bent down and picked up Chongyun’s hand. “Come on! Where do I live?”

Chongyun unwillingly got up, slouching meekly as Xingqiu dragged him forward. “But let’s look for the library first.”

Xingqiu pulled the exorcist’s arm. “We can ask me about it when we get there!”

[sockablock]

When in sudden need of a place to stay, Caleb Widogast finds a room for rent at a price so low he can’t believe his luck. Ignoring the concerns of his friends, he moves in and quickly finds himself tangled up in the life of one Essek Thelyss, a reclusive scholar who may be even stranger than Caleb himself…

(start) - (previous) - (next)

Chapter 3: The Preliminary Framework

Dusk slung its indigo cloak across the sky, painting little wisps of orange clouds that shone in the fading pink light of the sun.

“Would you, er, like some…water?”

“Ah. That…yes. Thank you.”

The tap gurgled.

“I wish I had something better to offer, but it is either, well, this or coffee. And it is late for your k…for you to have coffee, right?”

“Er…I suppose that is true. Would you…I bought some milk this morning, if you would rather drink that?”

“No, thank you.”

“Ah.”

“That was…it is a kind offer, though.”

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, Essek shut the faucet and turned around with a glass in each hand. He put them on the countertop.

He sat down.

His newest roommate—a human—was fidgeting in his chair. Essek couldn’t help but commiserate with that, and stole another look at the man’s face.

Caleb Widogast was pale, as if life on the coast had done absolutely nothing to color his complexion. His hair was a little shaggy, but impressively red, and the faintest shadow of stubble had begun to siege his chin. He had sharp features—though what Essek didn’t know was that Caleb had actually filled out in recent years—framing a long nose and eyes that shone a piercing blue in the lamplight.

The eyes blinked.

Caleb was staring back at him. “Is everything alright?”

Essek coughed and waved his hand. “Oh, yes, of course, of course. I was distracted by…something. Er…I think I must start by apologizing for how our few interactions have played out so far. The phone call, for one, and just now. I hope you do not think me rude.”

Caleb took a little too long to respond, but he did manage a smile, which eased the mood.

“Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he conceded. “Shall we re-introduce ourselves?”

The corner of Essek’s lip quirked up. Ah, so this was Camaraderie. “Perhaps that would be for the best. I am Essek Thelyss. Just ‘Essek’ will suffice.”

Caleb dipped his head in a greeting that some might have called stiffly formal. Essek regarded this as plainly cordial. “My name is Caleb Widogast,” he returned. “Er…is there anything else you would like to know?”

Seldom-used pieces of Essek’s mind whirred to life. Was there? Were names not enough? What were people supposed to tell each other? What was important? What was too much?”

“Of…course,” he tried. “How…old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

There was a pause. This time, it was Caleb who had to do the thinking. “How...old are you, Mist—Essek?”

“Ah. I would have to be honest and admit that in exact years…I do not know. I am in my second century, though.”

“Scheisse,” said Caleb, before he could stop himself. “That is—”

“Please. It is nothing for an elf,” though Essek preened a bit regardless. “I know a few souls who date back to bygone eras. Compared to them, I am nowhere near the oldest of my kind.”

“I—” and then Caleb blinked. “Does this mean I am older than you? Relatively speaking.”

Essek chuckled. “In terms of mentality and life experience, rest assured that I am as mature as any adult. More mature, perhaps, depending on the adult.”

“I see,” said Caleb, and Essek was surprised to find an echo of intellectual curiosity in his tone.

He tapped the rim of his glass. “So, are you from this city? Your accent sounds…somewhat familiar, but I cannot place if it is something I have heard in Nicodranas.”

“Oh, no, I am not from here,” Caleb shook his head. “I am, er…originally Dwendalian.”

To his credit, Essek recovered magnificently.

“The, ah, oh,” he said. “The Empire. Yes?”

“Yes,” Caleb agreed, “though I have not lived there for some time. I am…how might you say this…not the most patriotic citizen.”

This, at least, Essek understood. “Perhaps we have something in common, then. You may have guessed by now that I am not from Nicodranas either.”

“No?” said Caleb, with an acceptable amount of tact.

“I am Xhorhastian.” And then, after a beat, he added, “I was born and raised in the capital city of the Krynn Dynasty. Rosohna. You might know it as Ghor Dranas, but we prefer our own terms.”

He was admittedly surprised when this elicited a minimal reaction.

“I see,” said Caleb. “I did not know. I have never been there before.”

Essek had to rein in his smirk. “I would be very surprised if you had. Not many outsiders come to visit, and the Dynasty is fond of its secrets. It is perhaps one of the downsides of living there, not much…room for change and new experiences. If it helps, I have not been to your Empire before, either.”

Caleb smiled again. “I may have fondness for my homeland, but you are not missing that much.”

Essek put his glass down. “A lack of patriotism, indeed.”

Caleb laughed. It was a startled, quiet sound, almost surprised by its own existence. Essek found himself with the impression that this man did not laugh much, at least not like this, and then he wondered why.

Later, perhaps, he might wonder why he cared.

His head cocked slightly. “So, what is it that you do, Mr. Widogast? For a living, or—”

“Please,” Caleb quickly said. “If I am to call you Essek, refer to me as Caleb. Ah…sorry for interrupting.”

“Oh, no, it is fine. Caleb,” he tacked on. “And…?”

“Well—” and here, Caleb’s face flushed. He scratched the back of his neck. “These days, I mostly do small magic for hire. Simple spells and enchantments, that sort of thing. A lot of transmutation. I am working on a much bigger project, though that is something a bit…closer to my chest.”

Essek leaned in. It might not have been voluntary. “Really?” he asked. “In that case, am I right in surmising that you are an arcane caster? I met your…furry friend, earlier.”

“My—oh, Frumpkin!” Caleb nodded hurriedly. “Was he—I hope he did not bother you, I told him to stay in the room but, well, he is a cat—”

“He was no bother,” Essek held up a hand. That faint hint of amusement was surfacing again. “He is a charming…fellow. Though I would ask you to at least try to keep him out of my bedroom.”

Caleb closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of my nose. “My apologies.”

Essek shook his head again. “Please. It will be nice to have a familiar around. At least they are easier to reason with than real cats.”

Caleb opened his mouth. He closed. It seemed like he was trying quite hard to not say something.

When he opened his mouth again, his tone was slightly strained. “You recognized what Frumpkin is. Does that mean you are a wizard as well?”

Essek hesitated. Caleb noticed.

“Ah, bitte—”

“I am.”

A pause.

“Oh. Er…good?”

Now it was Essek’s turn to lean back. “I am…a wizard. From the Kryn Dynasty. Though, as we have established, I left quite some time ago to…to expand my horizons across the world. I am currently…also working on a rather large project in Nicodranas, that I would prefer to keep close to my chest.”

He watched Caleb absorb this information, and…yes, there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“I hope you understand,” Essek continued, “that though I like to think of myself independent from my homeland, there are…some things that I cannot share. There are some secrets, some practices that…perhaps might only be rumor to you, that I would like to keep guarded. You seem a good fellow, but…”

There was a waning hunger in Caleb’s voice as he said, “I understand.”

Essek let his gaze linger. “Good. I am glad.”

Caleb looked away first. He reached for his cup and considered it. “Did you leave Xhorhas to study magic then, Essek? To see and learn from the world?”

“Well.” He huffed. “Something like that. I am certainly here to see what I can learn.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that also why you left, Mi—Caleb?”

“Actually, I came with some friends,” he swirled his glass, “who were drawn for one reason or another to life by the sea. Two of them are originally from the Concord, and one of them is even Nicodranan.” His grin flickered back. “Her name is Jester. She is…well, she is quite interested in you.”

“Me?” Essek blinked. “But…why?”

“I, ah, told them about your listing. They were rather intrigued by…all of it. That is, they quite wanted to know what sort of person would rent such a nice room for that low a price…”

He trailed off.

“I see,” Essek said. “They must not be the only ones wondering.”

Caleb responded with a small smile. “I would not be looking a gift horse in the mouth by asking, would I?”

Essek found himself grinning back, and the tension from before dissipated.

“I hope not,” he said. “And the answer is that I have had some…slight difficulty finding a good housemate. Money is not so much of a concern for me, given…well, it is not a concern. Rather, I…to be honest, I need assistance in maintaining some aspects of the home. Not in the sense that I want a maid,” he added quickly, “it is just that I frequently have business to attend to elsewhere. I sometimes spend extended periods of time away, and it would give me a peace of mind to have someone here that I trust.”

“I see,” Caleb said. “That does make sense. In that case, I hope I do not let you down.”

“I hope so as well,” Essek chuckled, “because I am quite tired of putting up flyers. Though, to ensure full compatibility, I do believe we should compare notes about our lifestyles. And, perhaps, review our contract?”

“Ah, certainly. I think—”

“One moment.” Essek flicked his wrist and suddenly, with a heavy thud, an enormous ream of paper landed on the counter. He pulled it closer and turned to the first page.

“I find that taking notes and being methodical is best. Don’t you think so as well?”

And silently, privately, he was quite satisfied when Caleb nodded.

“I do. Can I borrow a pen?”

— — —

“You know,” said Caduceus, from the doorway, “Nott was probably just having some fun. I think you’re doing a great job. I really do.”

Fjord spat out his toothpaste and turned the faucet.

“Yes, but you’re biased,” he said through a mouth of foam. “And anyway, even if she is just being…Nott, she does have a point. I don’t know how to do anything.”

Caduceus crossed his arms while Fjord gargled. “Maybe for now, but you’ll get there. You’re still new at this.”

“I am new at this. I think I might have to take over delivery runs, Cad. What happens if a real customer comes in and you’re not there and I can’t answer their questions? I mean, gods, I don’t want to be a liability.”

“I’m sure a real customer would be more understanding.”

“No kidding.” He wiped his face off with a towel. “A real customer wouldn’t leave buttons in our tip jar.”

“She tipped on her card. You were busy giving a speech to her, but I saw.”

“Did she? Oh.” He turned around. “Well…good. But my point still stands. I can’t run things alone. Besides, I’m just a part-timer.”

Caduceus followed him into the living room, where a little teal radio was playing smooth jazz. It was one of the only three stations that the radio ever picked up, but so far neither of them had ever had the heart to replace it.

“You could go full-time,” Cad said, a little haltingly, as Fjord flopped down on the couch. “My aunt is better now, so I don’t have to send as much home. Colton called.”

“Oh. Well, hey, that’s really good to hear. Your family must be pretty happy.”

“They are,” Caduceus sunk into the sofa chair. “I’ll visit them in Midsummer, probably. It’s still a hike to get out to the Savalirwood.”

“You could fly, couldn’t you?”

“No airport.”

“Right. Woods. Right.”

Caduceus gave a small smile. “We’ll get one, maybe. One of these days. But…the offer still stands, you know. We can afford it. And it would be…nice for you.”

Fjord rubbed his eyes. “That’s just the thing, isn’t it? It would be rather nice for me. And it has been nice, you know, extremely nice, working with you in the shop. It’s just that…I’m a rather useless employee. At least I know what I’m doing at the Wayfarer’s.”

“You’ll get better as you practice,” Caduceus said. “If you wanted to…to come by tomorrow, I could show you the new bulbs…”

He trailed off when Fjord shook his head. “I appreciate it, Cad, I really do. But I don’t want to take up your time. And working at the diner isn’t so bad, at least I get free meals and I can still be by the sea. I miss that, you know? And I won’t be a burden for you.”

Caduceus’s tone was low, even as always, so Fjord missed the brief flicker in his eyes. “You’re not a burden. You know which ones are roses.”

“Everyone knows what a rose is,” Fjord snorted. “That’s nothing.”

“And you were right about the delphiniums.”

“Lucky guess.” Then Fjord winced. “Gods, no, that sounds so rude, I…I really do appreciate—”

Caduceus held up his hands. “Just think about it,” he said. “It’s just an offer. It might do you some good.”

Fjord’s shoulders relaxed. He even managed a smile as he reached for the remote.

“Okay. I’ll…think about it.”

Caduceus smiled back. “I hope you will.”

— — —

The front door did not creak anymore, because Beauregard—for all her bluster and brashness—was a very good homeowner. She was proud of the fact that she’d done the hinges herself. Admittedly, she’d used olive oil, but it had worked.

A fruity, pungent smell followed Yasha into the apartment. It was dark. At this time of night, her roommates would be asleep.

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, she nudged the door shut and slid her shoes into the tray.

She stretched. She glanced around.

The faint sound of snoring echoed out from the far hallway. Jester was adamant that she slept like a delicate princess, and this was true granted the fact that princesses also had a head cold. Yasha was never bothered by it, though, and anyway she’d slept under much worse conditions.

She noticed the kitchen table when she moved to put her keys away. She notice that there was still a small plastic container on top of it.

She walked over. She raised the lid. Inside were two pastries so sugary that the glaze shone under the microwave clock.

There was also a note. It read, in plain script:

— — —

“I almost forgot to thank you,” Essek said suddenly.

Caleb blinked. He looked up from their negotiations, mind bloated with clauses, vision swimming with subclauses.

“What?”

“The cheesecake,” Essek said. “It, ah…” His expression softened. “It was good.”

— — —

Fjord clicked the TV on. He wasn’t the most observant guy out there, but even he could tell that there was something bugging Cad.

“C’mon,” he said, and patted the sofa. “Let’s watch something together.”

— — —

Saved these for you.

— — —

Morning came with very little fanfare, ushering in a new day.

In the comfort of his bedroom—now officially his by way of the densest paperwork in Wildemount—Caleb was distantly aware that this specific morning was important for Nott. So important, in fact, that he had decided to break the first rule of spell work and leave his phone on the floor next to him. She was on her way to the airport now, though, so it would probably be some time before she texted with another update.

He tapped his chin with his pen. He stared at the notes scattered across his desk.

He could feel the formulas aligning, feel them working, could taste the lilt of the rite on his tongue. He hadn’t had a breakthrough like this in months, and every second that went by without progress was another second of wasted potential. He had already told himself that he would have something to put together by the end of the week, at least the preliminary framework and a bare-bones proof of concept. Nott was counting on him, after all, and he wasn’t about to let her down.

In his lap, dozing peacefully, was the reassuring weight of Frumpkin. Occasionally, his fingers would cart through the cat’s fur, stopping to scritch behind Frumpkin’s ears and vibrating when he purred.

“It would be easier if I had a template,” Caleb murmured half-lucidly to no one. “Any decent magical library would have a fixed set of transmutation runes.”

His other hand led the pen across a page.

“Too bad the only decent library for miles is still being put together by Beau. You don’t think the other wizard has any templates, do you, Frumpkin? You don’t think he’d be willing to share, do you?”

There was a faint mrow. Caleb sighed.

“It is not a very open profession. I didn’t even tell him what I’m doing, and I live in his house. For all he knows, I could slip up and cause an explosion in the living room. That would be a violation of Section VI, though.”

He scrawled in a few more runes.

“I cannot help but wonder what he is doing. He mentioned…you did not see anything in his…ach, no, that is intruding.”

There was another meow. Caleb scowled.

“I specifically did not ask. No, do not.”

Frumpkin stretched, jostling the bottom of Caleb’s desk. He sighed. He put his pen down.

“It is a secret. I must respect his wishes. Even if…even if…well, he was hinting, wasn’t he? I am sure he was speaking in circles about Dunamancy. Everyone knows…and, götter, it would be so incredible to learn. But…no. No, he has made his stance clear. I will not ask. And you will not go into his bedroom, okay? Not the study, either. That is Section II.”

Frumpkin looked up at him with baleful eyes.

Caleb tapped his cat on the nose.

“Go back to sleep. I was doing so well before you interrupted me.”

— — —

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

[paellaplease]

Balter: BOTW Robbie x Reader

15. balter - to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment

(Robbie x Reader)

Part I of ?

It’s day one of being assigned as an assistant to the Chief of Guardian Research, and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“This is a great honour,” your research supervisor—ex-supervisor, said. They smiled at you tearily like a proud parent, fixing the collar of your shirt and patting away the non-existent dirt on your shoulders. Both of you had decided together on an outfit that was functional but boringly business casual, something that screamed ‘This job is serious and I too am seriously serious.’

“Teach,” you say, bending down to look the elderly scholar in the eye. They’ve been frantic the entire morning, packing and repacking your things, double checking your itinerary and quizzing you on random topics for the past five hours (“What is the integral of the absolute sin, x, over the interval 0 to two pi?” “Four, and how is this relevant?”) You try to smile in a way that is both calming and trustworthy. “I’m going to be alright. We’ve gone over all the possibilities together yesterday, everything from A to Z remember?”

Grabbing their cane, they picked up your suitcase, wagging their finger when you reached to take it from their smaller, wrinkly hands. “Yes, yes. But one can never be too careful.” Walking to the exit of the academy, both of you pushed open the double doors, a field of wildflowers greeting you on the other side.

A bright blue sky hung above, cloudless and empty. Your horse was grazing not too far away, ears pricking up at the sound of your approach. Before planting your foot into the stirrup, your supervisor called out your name, prompting you to turn around. Pulling their coat close to them self, they wrapped their short arms around you, enveloping you in a rare hug. “Just, keep your wits about you.”

“Why is that?”

“Doctor Robbie is a little eccentric.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Teach.” You winked, squeezing them a little tighter. “I’ve worked with you after all.” The air shifts when you spot a cane spinning in the air, the hardwood eventually smacking painfully into your side and making you yelp.

“Stupid child,” the centenarian grins. “I wish you luck and a prosperous future.”

With the Royal Highway in your sights, your thoughts were filled with a whirlwind of excitement at the prospect of working with such a bright mind. Focusing your thesis on the newly excavated Guardian’s design and its sophisticated targeting system had spiraled into a series of meetings with the King’s scientific panel and eventually a position at a lab beyond the imaginations of both you and your Sheikah supervisor.

An hour had sped by and before you knew it, the imposing entrance to the Royal Ancient Tech Lab loomed over you like a giant’s shadow. The secure metal doors were decorated with a pattern of tumultuous swirls and waves, stretching from the edges and across the vast surface like creeping vines on a stone wall. Raising your hand to knock, you were surprised to hear the unmistakable boom of a small explosion on the other side.

Pulling down the handle, the door opened with little resistance, a black cloud of smoke filling your nostrils and making you splutter. “Anyone there?” You called out. Leaving your suitcase at the entrance, you cautiously stepped into the fray, dress shoes squeaking against the floor. Looking around, the first thing you spot are three long stone tables littered with gears and springs of various sizes. The next is the smoking carcass of half a Guardian in the corner.

You stared at the ancient machine, unable to compute.

“Over here!”

Whipping around, your eyes scanned the room.

“Ah, behind the table.” The voice said sheepishly.

Rushing towards it, you quickly vaulted over to the other side, finding a young man on the floor. You blinked, silent as he rubbed his head and groaned, readjusting the metal goggles that sat heavy above his eyes. Taking in his appearance was...overwhelming. He looked, well, rather odd for starters.

His coiffed white hair was combed back and above his forehead in a style you’ve never seen before, fanning out like a peacock’s feathers. It possessed a volume that was miraculously intact despite the blast, making you wonder if he employed some sort of chemical to keep it that way.

The Sheikah uniform that he wore was cream in colour and soot stained from the explosion earlier. You noticed that he’d made a few minor adjustments, rolling his shirt sleeves above the elbows and foregoing the usual navy inner layer completely, giving him a ridiculous V-neck that seemed to go on and on...and oh Goddesses you were staring now. How long have you been staring at him for?

Quick, your brain screamed. Say something, maybe he hasn’t noticed.

You blurted out the first thing in your mind: (well, second. The first was ‘is your hair held up by witchcraft?’ and that probably wouldn’t roll too well.) “Are you okay?”

Reaching out, you offered him a hand up, shocked when he grasped it with no hesitation. His grip was strong but not uncomfortable, and with your help he managed to stand with little trouble.

The grin that he gave in reply was infectious. “I am now, thanks to you.” He had a nice smile. In fact, now that you think about it, his voice was rather nice too. Smooth and—not the time to do this brain!

Releasing your hand, he took a step back, surveying the damage and mess around him. He cleared his throat. “Hm, apologies for the...everything that you see around you right now. I wanted to test a hypothesis regarding the activation of the Guardian’s defense mechanism even whilst inert.” Picking up a fallen gear, he polished it with the edge of his charred shirt and placed it on the table. “Evidently, I got my answer,” he laughed. “So in a way the experiment was a success.”

Oh, he’s a scientist here, you gathered. Great, maybe he could help you find your boss. “Actually, I was wondering if you knew where one of the Directors of this lab was? His name is Doctor Robbie. I’m the new research assistant.” You felt a shock of warmth threatening to creep up your neck, feeling silly at needing to ask a colleague for assistance this early in the day.

His smile widened, your blush rising to your face like mercury in a thermometer. “Know where he is? Why, of course I do.” In the blink of an eye, he stuck his hand in the air, striking a pose that was so charming and silly that you wondered if you’d inhaled too much toxic smoke earlier and was currently hallucinating on the fumes.

“You’re in luck,” he announced. “For the ‘Doctor Robbie’ you’re looking for is none other than I.”

Oh. It was no use, your embarrassment was reaching an all time high and at this point the smartest option was to stop fighting and let the blush takeover and run its course. Trying and failing to hide your shock, you don’t notice the Doctor’s pose wilt at the lack of your response.

Take a deep breath and do it again, your supervisor— ex-supervisor’s voice echoed like an angry phantom that refused to leave your head. Slowly recovering, you bowed low, the seventy degree angle pulling the muscles in your back. “Forgive me, I didn’t know.” You say your name quickly and in one breath. “Pleased to meet you.”

Straightening up, you were relieved at the lack of anger or annoyance in his face. Even with the goggles, it was easy to tell that the Doctor’s expression was relaxed, and if anything, just a tad worried. “The pleasure is all mine. You have nothing to be sorry for, and please, there’s no need to be so formal.”

“Got it. If you show me where the written reports are kept, I can start organising the data as soon as possible.”

“Hmm? Oh, we can worry about that later.” Folding his arms across his chest, Doctor Robbie gracefully spun on his heels, walking towards the Guardian head that tried to set him on fire only minutes ago. “What I need you to do is to grab a crowbar from the table and some gloves.”

“How come?”

Fearlessly knocking on the ancient machine’s temple, he moved to face you, that enigmatic smile back on his face as the gears on his goggles began to turn. “We’re going to see what makes this beauty tick.”

-

:)

[confusedgoldenflower]

There is No Glorious Purpose Chap. 2

Hello, you beautiful Tesseract-loving bastards!

I've been meaning for a long time to update but I've been having a really bad time with the whole motivation thing, and what I had first thought of doing with this fic got thrown in a wood-chipper and sunk with the Titanic... so, I'm trying to pick up the pieces and decide where I want to go with this. I also wanted to do it episodically: Chapter One aligned with Episode One and so on. That has not worked partly due to the issues of the above so, well, I guess we'll find out together!

So sorry for any grammar issues, I did my best to look it over but got too sick of staring at it over and over again in my drafts.

Small Thor cameo!

Chapter Two: You Oafs

“Yeah, well, you’re a mischievous scamp--or at least, the other you is. Been killing our minutemen and stealing our reset charges. Been happening for quite a long time….” Mobius whistled lowly. Loki nodded slowly.

“If you know me or us as well as you say, what need have you of my help?”

“Like I said, mischievous scamp. And I know what makes a Loki tick, sure, but even Sherlock needed Watson sometimes--you do know about them, right? Really fun stories with a super smart detective and his below average side-kick--.”

Loki ignored the rambling, “I agree.” Perhaps then… after… peace? “Just tell me, please… is it true that I directly led to my mother’s death?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, definitely. Thor was pissed and then he dragged you along to Svart--Svartle… anyway, the planet of the Dark Elves with Jane because she absorbed the Aether. Then you faked your death, again . There’s that ‘doing a horrible thing then getting away,’ again. But Thor totally gets you back on Sakaar with those Obedience Disks. Yeah, yeah… oh, right, you don’t know--and won’t. He slaps one of ‘em on you when you betray him again, then dials it up all the way while he returns to Asguard. For a god, you get put down a lot .” Mobius chuckled.

Loki sucked in a shuddering breath, reverently laid the Tesseract down and stood, “let us catch this scoundrel then.” He faked a smile for the agent.

“Ok,” Mobius clapped and rubbed his hands together, “what a therapy session!”

Loki had a fleeting thought of, “he must be some Midguardian fool, possibly in some relation to Thor,” before he remembered that the all powerful Time Keepers had created the oaf in front of him.

“Ya know, for the record, maybe ‘undying fidelity,’ wasn’t the right thing to say to Thanos. Just saying. But this is good! We’re gonna be a great team.”

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

“Loki,” the orange clock whined on his ‘gifted’ desk. Though still somewhat transparent, Miss Minutes was a fairly good illusion.

“Yes?” He replied pleasantly, blue hand turning the page of a magazine. His slack-clad legs were propped on the desk, fine business shoes not too far from where she stood on a rather large book. The suit replacement of the prison wear wasn’t bad, he, of course, would have done better had he access to his seidr. But it was fine for the time being.

“Are you paying attention?” The angry little clock motioned to the old Midguardian computer screen which read in that same horrible orange color:

LET’S SEE WHAT YA KNOW!

Q2. Thanos has two apples. He eats both but realizes he wants more. He goes back in time 20 minutes and eats the apples again. Does this mean the apples will not have existed in the timeline he left?

No, because time is constantly happening

The question doesn’t matter because a branch cannot change another time branch

Thanos would’ve been hungry prior because the Grandfather paradox already accounted for the change in matter before it’s move.

TVA FILE EDIT VIEW MODE HELP

Of course he was paying attention, and of course he chose not to amuse them! One order after another; feeding off of each other even. He may have bowed to Thanos but he had never kneeled. Not truly. And he clung to that remaining dignity.

“Naturally,” he returned pleasantly. She sighed.

“What happens when a nexus event branches past red line?”

“Ragnarok.”

“Come on, Loki. What is it?... Loki!”

“It is when the TVA can no longer reset a nexus event. Are you satisfied?’

“Right. And that would lead to the destruction of the timeline and the collapse of reality as we know it.” He lowered the magazine lower into his lap and took his feet off the desk.

“Yes, indeed. Are you alive or a recording? Clearly, you can hear me.”

Her big cartoonish eyes moved around, “uh… sorta both?”

“So not an illusion or projection?” He swiped at her with the rolled up magazine.

“Ah!” A small smirk ghosted his face and he went after her again.

“Watch it! Where are your manners? Oh! Hey! Quit it! That is not nice, ya jerk!” She floated and then fazed back into the computer. He gave that ugly thing a few whacks as well. She pouted on the other side of the screen.

“Trainin’ going wel--is that my jet ski magazine? Put it down, Blue-Raz.” Mobius ripped the magazine from him, swivelled to his desk then swiveled again to flop a jacket in front of Loki.

“Gear up, there’s been an attack. Let’s go.” The agent commanded. Loki picked up the jacket. It unfolded from the collar, back facing him. “VARIANT” was emblazoned across it.

“Ah,” was all he commented as he moved to slip it on before his handler got any ideas while he was led down hallways. Norns knew the agent would have plenty of examples in his own life up to that point, much less his future or other variants.

“Good. Yeah. Smart.” Mobius commented with his fists in a move reminiscent of excited warriors as said human stopped to look back at his charge and the newly bestowed article of clothing. B-15 gave her usual droll stare. Her minutemen stood around her in a group.

“ C-20 and her team went dark shortly after they jumped into the 1985 branch. All signs point to another ambush. We've grabbed enough temporal aura to know it's our Loki Variant.”

The “actually dangerous” sort, Loki groused silently. Then Mobius opened his mouth.

“Here's the deal. When we get out on the branch, we're not just looking for a Time Criminal. We're looking for a Loki. A variation of this guy. A type we should all be very familiar with, because the TVA has pruned a lotta these guys, almost more than any other Variant. And no two are alike. Slight differences in appearances, or not so slight. Different powers, although, powers generally include shape-shifting, illusion-projection, and my favorite... Duplication-casting. Illusion-Projection.”

Mobius gestured to him when applicable in his little speech, also projecting other variations of Loki with his TemPad--all assumedly pruned likewise. Variation 8: L6792 looked exactly like he would now had he’d been afforded the luxury of keeping his clothes, but also with slight differences that led Loki to think that that variant must have been favored royally in some way he was rejected.

Variation 8: L1247 looked like a Midguardian sportsman happily holding a trophy of some kind. Variation 8: L6792 was an atrocity of him and the Hulk combined. Variation 8: L8914 was more strongly built with more prominent hair curls in their longer hair. They stood like dignitary with their hands behind them. Variation 8: L7803 looked like an oaf. A full, half-face helmet emblazoned with the horns in the wrong direction and even a piece of turf over the shoulder like a cape. Oh, dear….

“No.”

“...Huh?”

“Those two powers are completely different, although, I am unsurprised you cannot comprehend it.”

“Loki, what are you talking about--look, I’ve dealt with more of you than you’ve dealt with yourself.”

“The truth remains that those powers are not the same.”

“Then, please, Loki, tell me.”

Loki smiled easily and supplicatingly at the contempt and patronization, just like talking to anyone in Asguard.

“ Illusion-projection involves depicting a detailed image from outside oneself, which is perceptible in the external world, whereas duplication-casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure.”

“Ok, take a breath. Noted. We’re gonna break into two teams, including myself and Professor Loki here”

B-15 still looked unamused and dubious.

“Whoever the Variant is, we haven’t been able to find them so I’m the Sherlock and he’s my Watson. Look, this’ll work.” Mobius said to her. She side-eyed Loki, Loki who had nothing but a branded jacket to protect himself with.

“And so my agency in this is to… tell you how brilliant you are.”

“Go outside, maybe touch some grass.” Mobius returned with a tilted smile under his twisted nose.

“Ah. I shall protect myself with your wit, then, should this superior being choose me as a next target.”

Mobius chuckled and mimed “talky-talky” again.

He passed through the portal B-15 had summoned, closed in on both ends by TVA agents. Immediately, he could feel his seidr swell within him again and redonned his Aesir glamor. The choker chafed as he glanced around, and he found himself much preferring the biting metal of the chains he was usually imprisoned in. The place they passed into was a celebration of old Midguardian times, further back than what the TVA modeled itself after, in direct juxtaposition of the modern technology with the humans held in their hands, and had used to both get to the location and create their sometimes elaborate costumes.

“Apex of nexus signature located, ma'am,” a minuteman said as they walked.

“Allow me to ask you this, why do we not travel to the moments prior to the Variant’s attack, to when they arrive.” Loki asked as the tent grew ever nearer.

“Nexus events destabilize the time flow. This branch is still changing and growing, so you gotta show up in real time. Did you watch any of the training videos you were supposed to?”

The minutemen twisted their batons, the ends glowing a shade that seemed to haunt the TVA as they neared.

Loki chuckled a laugh that was never and would never be heartfelt, “my dear Sherlock, you should know I am quite the scholar. But these ‘reset charges,’ they ‘prune’ a branched timeline which ‘allows time to heal all wounds.’”

Mobius made an odd gesture towards him, “he’s on it.”

Within the dark, torch-lit tent, limp minutemen laid about the displays which held real weapons and a large, stepped seating construct. Their bodies were splayed out in obvious struggle. Unactivated batons laid around as well, a few clenched in hands. A helmet bearing “C-20” laid, discarded within the scene. Loki hovered a hand over one display as he passed and they grouped around the scene.

“So he's taking hostages now?” B-15 spat.

“The Variant's never taken a hostage before,” Mobus returned.

“Maybe he's upping his game.”

“Or he pruned her,” a minuteman remarked.

“A Loki couldn't have gotten the jump on C-20.” B-15 returned.

“Fan out and search for her. And hurry up, we're at three units until red line.” B-15 ordered, her minutemen immediately moving to obey.

“Let's go. She's right.” A peon echoed.

Mobius concurred, “Come on.”

“Wait….” Loki said, brow knit as he studied the scene.

“What do you see?” Mobius asked as he stepped away from the entrance.

“I see wolf’s teeth.”

“Yeah, ok,” Mobius motioned for him to hurry and Loki got brief satisfaction that the human had no idea what he was talking about.

“‘Where there are wolf’s ears, there are wolf’s teeth,’” Loki echoed one of many sayings he heard during his childhood, especially before bed. He swallowed down the thought of a certain story about blue, darkly lined and vicious monsters.

“Ridiculous, really,” he laughed hallowly, “my people are gullible fools by nature. You remind me of them; the Time Variance Authority and the great gods of Asgard. One and the same. Drunk with power, blinded to the truth. Those you underestimate will devour you, and we’ve just walked into a wolf’s mouth.” He raked his eyes across his audience as he spoke, kneeling down in front of the helmet and stroking his hand in the grassy turf. The minutemen seemed to falter ever so slightly, B-15 rolled her eyes, and Mobius stared.

A TemPad beeped, “two units, he’s wasting our time.”

“No, step outside this tent and my other Variant will devour you,” Loki stated plainly. It was easy, nearly in a terrifying way, how he fell into the usual routine he had had with his oaf of a brother and his lackeys, who, similarly, never headed his words.

“We need to look for C-20.” B-15 repeated.

“Come on, Loki, we don’t have time for your lies.”

“Oh, I am not lying, and out of curiosity, when you find them, will you prune us both seeing as you will not have any need of me?”

Mobius sighed and gesticulated like a frustrated middle-aged Midguardian, “he’s lying.”

Loki’s head turned to the side minutely, in a ghost of a head shake. His stomach turned the way it usually did when he knew things were about to--.

“Aghr!” A minuteman had exited and had been consequently slaughtered. A brawl broke out just outside the small entrance. Innocent event-goers made exclamations outside as well. Batons revved, and B-15 and Mobius stalked to the opening. Loki walked behind them.

“The charge!” Someone yelled. The fight continued. A cloaked figure with amazing skill in combat fought them all while a crowd of civilians formed around them. There were a few smiles and jeers, no doubt thinking it was all a show.

“On behalf of t-... the Time Va-...Variance Authority, I hereby-... arrest you for-... for crimes against the… Sacred Timeline, V-… Variant!” B-15 huffed between blows.

“Ergh!” A minuteman got pruned. Loki’s cloaked variant said nothing, only continued fighting. He backed back into the tent, took aloft a jousting lance, broke it half and reemerged. For all their combined ability, the TVA was losing. The glow of pruning swung around arbitrarily. He dipped into the fight and caught his counterpart’s cutlass in the cross the two ends of the lance made.

“Pardon me, I mean no intrusion,” he said calmly to his other self, noticing a similar collar of metal that had adorned his own garments. He could feel the other’s tension as they reclaimed their sword and focused solely on him. It proved more of a poor decision than anticipated and he found himself holding his breath in pain more than he’d wanted. The wood was also useless and even though both it and he put up a valiant fight, his other self had taken hold of a baton along the line. His weapons were useless as they continued to share blows. He lowered the stubs of wood and opened his arms. The glowing end came close.

Then it wasn’t.

The grunting that followed was B-15 and Mobius disarming the variant of the baton and nearly restraining them.

“About to redline!” A remaining minuteman nearly yelled. B-15 and Mobius shared a look. A door was opened and Loki found the cloaked figure disappearing into a flurry of gold.

“What in the Rolling Stones was that, Blue-Raz?!” Mobius had him hard by the shoulder of both his jacket and dress shirt.

Loki blinked once then made eye contact with Mobius, “what ever do you mean?”

“He was about to kill you!”

“Prune,” Loki politely corrected. Mobius gawked.

“I kno--what were you thinking?!”

“Your only use of me is to capture me, I was assisting in that.”

“By letting you be killed by yourself?!”

“A mere distraction to the larger goal, Mobius.”

“And it almost worked,” B-15 piped from somewhere beside them. Her voice had dropped a tone or two.

“Yeah… almost had ‘im too.” Mobius admitted, letting Loki go. “But seriously, man, what was that?”

“Nearly fulfilling my role, as you yourself stated.” Loki replied pleasantly.

“We also barely pruned it in time and got outta there with our lives.” B-15 stated.

“Yeah…” Mobius rubbed the back of his head with his other hand on his hip as he stared at the floor. I was not lying, Loki wanted to say. To push. To scream. But he instead focused on the ache in his back. It should be fine in a matter of a few more hours given the time he had for recovery before the Tesseract opened the portal in New York and he was knocked from the Mind Stone’s, and thus Thanos’, direct influence.

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

Loki subconsciously touched his hideously blue palm as he waited outside of the judge’s office for his handler. The doors were decorated with sandglasses. How quaint .

Mobius finally emerged, stalking right past him. Loki fell in step behind him. He realized such only after he’d done it.

An angry finger wagged in front of him as they walked, “one thing, Loki, that’s all I asked.”

“The ‘talk’ from earlier.”

“No! Catching the superior version of yourself. We lost guys out there today-- good guys!” Good, yes, ‘good guys’ who also happened to have erased who knows how many people from existence.

“There would have been a lot more had I not been there and, likewise, a lot less had I been heeded.”

“And there you go again. That narcissism! Do you ever stop? Get tired of yourself?”

Loki didn’t respond as Mobius stopped and whirled on him, only gave him his schooled expression.

“I’m on thin ice ‘cause of you. I saved you, remember that? Didn’t that mean anything to your Asguardian standards or personal morals or anything?”

“If you recall, I was about to meet that fate regardless as I helped you bring in my Variant. I also have little doubt you will delete me if I survive assisting you in their arrest either way.”

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy? Ok. Well that other you is worse, remember that. He’s killed a lot of people--more than you. You’re just a little blue ice runt, crying in the cold.”

Loki chuckled and didn’t even need to bite back the urge to correct this “Loki expert.”

“Ever get tired of playing this same old part?” Mobius continued bitterly, “I’m getting sick of your constant need for sympathy, Loki!”

“Mobius?” He asked after allowing a few minutes to pass.

“What?” Mobius mumbled.

“This other Variant is after reset charges, why not supervise another ‘pruning’ in case we find the correct branch they target. How many happen in a day, usually?”

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

Loki almost choked when they entered into an Aguardian hall. The was beautiful and towering and held stones and architecture he could rewrite the books about. For one blissful second, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of his homeland--or the place he was raised. His glamor fell over him unconsciously.

Then he had to play follow-the-leader with the TVA peons. He rounded a large corner and immediately knew how many steps it would take to get to his room, his mother’s and Thor’s.

“Loki?” A familiar voice boomed. Loki tensed. Mobius cast him a “good luck” glance and mumbled, “I’ll be back for ya, Blue-Raz”

Loki had the urge to run him through followed by his brother who should not—it didn’t matter, the timeline would be reset. The Thor bounding up behind him would be pruned with everything else… why did that hurt? He turned to face his adopted sibling.

“Loki, it is you? Isn’t it? I mean you look horrendous in that getup, but it’s you!” Thor held his hands out in what could only be described as reverence. But the esteemed Asguardian Prince was wearing dirty Midguardian clothes and had a beer gut to match. How? Barely any time had elapsed between that moment and when they were facing down in New York.

“It is me but what happened to you, brother?”

A shadow came over Thor’s face. His hands lowered and he reached out to Loki.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispered, “did you just escape the dungeons?”

Loki held his gaze for a few long moments. The timeline will be reset. There is no harm in it.

“No, Thor, I never—this me never went to the dungeons. Never came back to Asguard.”

Thor hissed an inhalation of breath as his eyes widened.

“Thor what happened to you? Why do you have mismatched eyes? Where is your armor? Or Mjolnir?”

“Oh, Loki! Loki. Loki. Loki.” Thor’s voice trembled with false laughter and an emotion Loki didn’t know, “what--you look horrendous. What in the Nine Realms are you wearing?”

“Thor, it is good to see you, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time for a chat.” Loki returned, clipped. Redline grew ever nearer.

Thor’s face fell again, “Loki… just tell me you’re alive. That I didn’t fail you on the Statesmen--Thanos is dead now, I-I killed him! I-... I killed him… I avenged you.”

“Oh, Thor,” Loki found himself saying as Thor’s eyes shined and tears spilled onto his cheeks. He allowed himself to be squeezed in the other’s arms… and found it to be the best hug he’d ever received… or the only hug….

“Thor… Thor, are you listening?” Thor only sobbed into his shoulder, holding Loki up against his beer gut and off of the actual floor.

“Y-yes?”

“Very soon, this timeline will be reset which means you will have never seen me here. So tell me, what happened to you?”

Thor whined in the back of his throat and plopped Loki back down, it was just hard enough to make pain spike up his nearly healed spine.

“I--You--Thanos--.”

Loki laid his arms on Thor’s biceps, squeezing gently, Thor shuttered then took a breath and smiled fondly at him. Fondly. Thor never did that. What sort of--how is he not the Variation?

“So after Ragnarok, Thanos… had all the Stones and killed half of what was left of Asguard including you. I wasn’t able to--I’m sorry.”

“Just tell me, Thor, I am right here.”

“Then I was found by the space morons and went to Nidevelir to forge Storm Breaker because Hela broke Mjolnir before Sakaar--Ragnarok happened because of her. Then we battled with the Avengers in Wakanda and… I didn’t go for the head! How could I have not gone for the head?! Thanos snapped and…. It was horrible, brother. Absolutely horrible. The whole universe. And so many extinctions followed and more tragedies. I-....” He hung his head. “I tried to drown my worries like the ‘oaf’ I am….”

“I thought your annoying little group was the ‘Avengers’ not the ‘Alcoholics.’”

“... Ha!” Thor slapped him on the back. The statement seemed to have brought about the intended reaction.

“Yes! Of course! So five years later, we found him and I slayed him! But Tony and Scott found a way to move through time to get the stones to undo it all, and so we did, and we succeeded! But still, Thanos haunted us and we had a final battle--which we won!” Thor seemed to have noticed himself that he was about to go into one of his long winded stories of victory, and cut it short.

Then his smile abated and his beard fell, “Loki, Steve and Tony lost the Tesseract in 2012 to you…?”

“Yes, yes, that would be me, brother.”

A gasp of breath as Thor readied himself for the most bone crushing hug in the universe was all that was afforded to Loki.

“Thor,” he wheezed slightly, “I know I was not kindest to you but must you kill me prematurely?”

“Oh, Loki! I never threw you off the Bifrost, and I-!”

“Charge is set, we gotta boogie!” Mobius interrupted, jogging over.

Thor allowed the interruption if only to interrogate him, “and who are you? How and why do you command my brother? If you are with Tha-!”

To Loki’s astonishment, a few electrical charges emanate off of his brother.

“No, time to talk. Put Loki down We gotta get outta Dodge.”

Thor’s grip tightened, “Thor, just do it!” Loki groused. Thor did. Mobius opened the portal.

“Sorry, big guy, big fan but I need your Buddy. You ever think of trying Old Spice?”

“Ah--I just--Loki just returned to me as he always does and you expect me to just give up?!”

“Thor, do not follow us, I would rather not see you get deleted.”

Heavy feet crossed through the yellow threshold and left 2023 Thor in 2014 with a gaping mouth and tear stained cheeks.

“So no Loki!” Mobius announced as he clapped his hands together, “that means we gotta get to work!” He went on to walk at a brisk pace. Loki trailed after, blinking back the stinging in his now red eyes.

“I was of the understanding that is what we were doing,” he put a hand over his throat while he cleared it.

“I need you to go over each and every one of this Variant's case files, and then, give me your... How do I put it?... Your unique Loki perspective. And who knows? Maybe there's something that we missed.”

Seeing as how you are so hypocritical, I would be surprised if you had not missed anything. Honestly, “all you Lokis are the same” yet in the same breath, “no Loki variant is exactly alike.” I think as I do.

“You are the expert, I trust your judgement” Loki said instead.

“That's why I'm lucky I got ya for a little bit longer. Let me park ya at this desk. And don't be afraid to really lean into this work. Here's a good trick for you: pretend your life depends on it. I'm gonna get a snack.”

For all his countless hours spent in not only the Grand Library, but others around Asguard and the other Realms, he found himself having little interest in sifting through all the instances in which that other version of him overcame the great TVA and triggered more animosity against themselves--and all other Lokis.

“Any motive, Sherlock?” He asked dryly.

“That’s what you’re for!” The agent chuckled, poked at his chest and walked away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the agent walk away then turned his attention to the paperwork. The pattern was known to begin with but became… inane the more pages he flipped through: nexus event, dispensed TVA agents, the team goes silent, they’re found dead and without the reset charge, Mobius, the expert, is called in for investigation and then the branch is reset before redline.

One Loki… only one to best their happy little teams. I was bested, but I also have extenuating circumstances of the past year. Without Thanos’ interruption, could I have?... Yes, I fought alongside Thor and his foolish troup of warriors, I would have been able to exact my own damage. For a ‘timeline protection force,’ how are they schooled in combat?

“Pardon me,” he tapped the librarian’s bell. She turned to him with a nonplussed expression.

“Could you show me to the combat regimens of our dear agents?”

“No.”

“Infographics?”

“No.”

“Battle end-games?”

“No.”

“Well, you have been very helpful, thank you.” It was still a library after all and he more than knew his way around one seidr or not; his mind was still intact--somewhat intact and that had always been his greatest weapon.

So he sat back down at the table to form a plan of action, so to speak, of how he could find the files he wanted in the fastest and most assured way. But, he still had all the paperwork of this other Loki, dripping in red. Oozing. Gushing. Like Thor’s cape as yet more enemies were put to ruin under his brother’s sheer might. He never envied that red; never thought he could own it or have it become him… yet this other version had jumped--leapt into that pool of blood and ended all who stood in their way. Incapacitation would have sufficed. Has sufficed in innumerable cases. He’d both saved lives of his comrades and stupid brother, and saw the end goal in such a way.

He gasped and leapt up, running along the railing of the library.

“Mobius--.”

“No, I said, ‘don’t bother me until you’ve read all the files,’ and I know you don’t read that fast.” Mobius set his Js\osta down with a hard thonk .

“I have, but unimportant--.” Loki slid into the seat across from the agent in the cafeteria.

“No, read every file pertaining to the Variant.”

“The answer does not lie in the files, it lies on the timeline!” Mobius gave him a dangerous look at the slight raising of his voice. Loki took a breath.

“Look,” Loki began again with his arms fanning over the table, “they’re hiding in apocalypses.”

“Which one? There’s, like, a million?”

“Take Ragnarok, I assume you are familiar?”

“Yeah, total destruction of your weird coin planet and most of its people because of your sister Hela. I’m sorry.”

Sister? Hela? Thor mentioned her--unimportant now.

“Yes, well, that recent visit with Thor got me thinking…?”

Mobius regarded him but eventually sighed and sat back, making a small gesture, “yeah, sure, ok.”

“Nexus events happen when someone does something that is not meant to happen--.”

“A bit more complicated but yeah.”

“These can culminate into entire other timelines--.”

“Chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.” Loki did his best to ignore the interruptions. He forced animation into his movements as if trying to explain it to Thor. That was best, pretend he was explaining something that now seemed so basic to the warrior.

“Alright! So this is Asgard,” he plundered the agent’s salad bowl. Said agent gave sad push back. Loki continued.

“I could travel back to Asgard preceding Ragnarok and do whatever I wished; switch crowns, resoil linens, topple some columns. I could destroy the Rainbow Bridge.” He grabbed the small salt shaker and started pouring some in. Mobius mourned his food. Loki was not fed.

“None of this would matter. Not if I set fire to the courtyard. Or even killed the Allfather!”

“Why--Lo--God, Loki!”

“Excuse me,” Loki greeted Casey kindly at an adjacent table, “are you finished with this?”

Casey, who had his bunched napkin thrown on his plate in clear sign of being finished looked from his crumpled juice box to Loki, “you!”

“Yes, very nice to see you again,” Loki took the drink container and poured it into the salad, secretly relishing how the agent utterly deflated.

“Due to Surtur!” Loki finished.

Mobius rubbed his hand down his face, “what am I lookin’ at?”

“Apocalypses, Holmes.”

“Loki, you just apocalypse my lunch, I wanted to eat that!”

“You want my other Variant.”

Mobius leaned onto the table, “cut to the chase.”

“That is how they have escaped you for so long; no matter what happens, an apocalypse negates anything that would otherwise summon the TVA.”

“Oh, not bad. Not Bad. Hey, so, how do you weigh over five hundred pounds?”

That was a “jackknife”--as Midgaurdians may say--that he did not expect.

Mobius raised his hands, “hey, I’m not judging, just curious.”

“Focus, Mobius, please.”

“Ok, ok. My salad. Destroyed.” Another despondent hand waved at the bowl.

“I can show you my theory is true.”

Mobius laughed, “I’m not letting you go.”

“You come with me, naturally,” Loki pushed.

“Well, I’ve had enough of your troublemaking for one day.”

“No one has to know unless I am correct--which I am.”

“TVA agents can’t just go running around anyway. Waltzing into the White House would be a Nexus event.”

You are not listening!

“Pompeii, for instance, you Midguardians like talking about that catastrophe, we could go there!”

“Pompeii?”

“Pompeii. Everyone died and that town was not even the worst hit of the eruption of Vesuvius.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Talk, talk, talk. Oh, you’re so smart!” Mobius sneered and wiped his mouth with his napkin despite not having spilled anything much less eaten enough to make a mess of his face. No food for either of them it seemed.

“If I go along with this and you stab me in the back, you’re getting erased. Capische?”

“Understood,” I am fully expecting that regardless.

[potassium-pilot]

Not As A Scion

"Now that the dust has settled, what will you do? Not as a Scion, I mean, but...what do you want for yourself?"

What might have arisen if Thancred only arrived with Alisaie later?

The WoL is a female elezen scholar/arcanist named Dia Sito in this story. This takes place during the 3.4 msq “Promises Kept”, starting with a divergence right after he asks the question above.

Ships: Aymeric/WoL, Alphinaud & WoL, Alisaie & WoL, Scions & WoL, Edmont & Warrior of Light, previous one-sided Haurchefant/WoL

Dia searched through her head for an answer only for her brain to return visions of the past two years. Everything from her arrival in Limsa Lominsa to the very moment she was invited for a drink with the newest Lord Speaker rushed through her third eye like running water. For some reason, looking beyond that felt nigh impossible.

“You ask a very good question, Ser Aymeric- if only I had a very good answer to give you.” He chuckled at her response. “Truly no thoughts to the future?” She shook her head, “The future feels far too ahead of me to really think of it, especially since there’s so many avenues that tend to hit all at once.” He nodded.

“I suppose”, she thought aloud, “I should probably find time in that future to rest, shouldn’t I?” He smiled, “That is customary, yes. Positions like ours, we so rarely are graced with such moments of respite, it’s never a bad idea to plan ahead of time.” She smiled back, “Time is not the issue to plan against; it’s the Scions.” He laughed aloud, “Cunning, are they?” She smiled with her teeth now, “Only the best possible people in Eorzea to ask to ruin my day.” He continued to laugh, giving her a very pleasant feeling of accomplishment.

Dia managed to make him laugh a good portion of her time in the manor. It was quite easy with him. She loved the Scions, of course, as they’re a second family in her mind, but it was harder to truly do anything with them as it was also work, and the Warrior of Light works constantly. She felt the ‘ruin my day’ comment a little harsh, but she also knew perfectly well she cared for them greatly, and they for her. It just felt nice to talk to someone who, especially in this moment, didn’t make her feel like she was working. He gave her a spectacular meal, some of the best drinks in Ishgard, and wonderful conversation. She had never seen such a side to a leader of Eorzea, probably due to his not being a leader of Eorzea just yet.

“What of an apprentice?”

The thought piqued her interest, causing her to raise her eyebrows to him. “If you happen to know another talented warrior blessed with the gift of Hydaelyn, I beg you bring them to the Rising Stones.” He made a noise that she couldn’t truly discern, but sounded uncomfortable, before saying, “Yes, I didn’t think of that, did I…?”

She grimaced, “That came out harsher than I expected. I’m sorry.” He lifted a hand and shook his head, “No apologies necessary. It reminded me of why so much tends to fall to you.” He took a bite of what remained on his plate. She looked to her lap, clad in amethyst due to her napkin.

“It’s not to say we haven’t tried. It’s just very difficult, especially when the needs of Eorzea come so suddenly and so harshly. Even if I were to have found the perfect warrior with the gift and everything, and made them my apprentice, whose to say I’m not dooming them to certain death?” He swallowed his food and replied, “An understandable concern. I would highly doubt they would follow you everywhere you go, but problems seem to escalate quickly for you lot. I would imagine it would take far too long what with the pressing matters that seem to come quickly for you, although we don’t know what that might be at the moment.” She nodded.

They took a moment to continue eating the meal, roast beef with a delicious spread of mushrooms, popotoes, spinach and green onion, and to the side was a soup of her particular liking, a popoto, cheese, and broccoli soup.

“I’m happy to answer your personal question, Ser Aymeric, but may I ask the same of you?” Eyebrows rose on his face. “What do you, not the Lord Speaker of Ishgard, not the Lord Commander, but you, Aymeric de Borel, want outside of the needs of Ishgard?” Did my eyes look like that after he asked that question, she thought to herself. They almost clouded in contemplation. “I’m afraid as you ask a similar question of me, I must give you a similar answer.” She smiled at that, “Ah, a kindred spirit.” She raised her glass and announced a toast, “To not planning anything!”

He grinned and followed suit, his own glass in hand, raised to the sky, “Here, here!” They both took a quick swig of their respective drinks and giggled at their silliness. Once they calmed down, he continued, “I believe my future will involve the state of my house.”

You can read the rest on https://archiveofourown.org/works/32128531/chapters/79597504

[tetrakys]

Sweet Elite - chapter 10

I finally played the episode on both my active accounts, review below the cut.

The episode starts with Scholar reminiscing the Halloween party and finally openly admitting to themselves they have a crush on the person chosen in the previous episode. As you probably remember I’m currently on Tegan’s and Axel’s routes.

Tegan:

Axel:

I... am destined to suffer with this game.

After this realisation we decide that the most important thing is to focus on our studies to be sure we’ll be able to remain at the academy. After studying we go to the cafeteria to have dinner and we find there the person we are in love with, we have a lovely dinner together 

Axel:

They talk about school for a bit

(Babe I forgive you only because you are cute, and also because you are teasing, your file says that math is one of your strengths, so cut the crap. )

Then he talks about him leaving school to go on tour.

(LMAO his face)

(!!!!!!! YES PLEASE!!!! but admit you’d do it because YOU want to see ME day and night 😏)

[...]

Ah! Someone who understands that scholarship students are brighter than the average Arligton student. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out... I mean... someone would have to be veeeeery stupid and close minded to think the opposite... wouldn’t they...  🙄

Funny but... I’m sure we can come up with another form of punishment 😊😏

Tegan:

There’s not much to show about the dinner with Tegan, as I said multiple times until we literally jump on him we’re going to get nowhere with him.

SCHOLAR SHOULD I REMIND YOU THAT YOU’RE IN THE MATH DEPARTMENT TOO?? 

Then he makes his back crack and Scholar gets spooked and they talk about being weird and true to themselves.

I’m a bit sad that in all the cute moments with Tegan you can rarely tell if they are flirty or just friendly. I know they reflect his personality, but it’s disappointing.

At the end of the dinner we agree that we had fun and we should do this again after the exams.

And this is where the episode ends.

......

Okay, no, I’m jooooooooking

This is where most interactions with our crush end and Karol/Neha’s arc begins (still not sure if the arc is only about Karol or both, I’d say both). 

Someone took a picture of scholar hugging Tadashi to console him during his arc and it got viral for some reason, so now Arlington’s sweetheart is again getting attention and the school board has decided to use the free publicity to raise the school’s profile in people’s eyes, so scholar is going to be one of Faxion’s judges. Scholar and Tadashi are called in Lady A’s office to talk about this, but they have to keep the secret until it’s publicly announced.

There is a very funny group chat scene where people try to get information out of Scholar and Tadashi, the picture comes out and we get no reaction from Tegan (he is the one who shares the link, so he might have at least brooded about it for a bit I hope), but we get a small cute scene with Axel

(Also, apparently he’s a dog person. Nice.)

Scholar, my child, could you try to use a bit of this sass with Tegan? You’re gonna die alone if you don’t.

After this, Faxion is announced and Scholar’s role too. You would guess that the smart thing to do is to treat well ALL the people who are going to to judge your work, right? Right? With respect, like any other human being deserves at the very least. But noooo of course not.

I’ve tried really hard to like you Karolina. I really did.

But you are a bitch.

Someone who defines people’s worth by how much money their parents own is even less than stupid. 

She even tries to show she has some higher moral ground respect to another model who is just as an asshole as she is. I can’t see much of a difference between the two.

What’s the difference with Karolina? I see none.

Scholar tries to make peace with Karol and be an impartial judge. We meet the other judges, among them there is a Luis Vuitton knock-off who is apparently friend with lady A and knows things about both Scholar and Neha. They are really fishy. In fact they out Neha as a scholarship student in front of the whole school. This is where things go to shit. Up until this point Neha and Karol where a great team and way ahead of everyone else, but now Karol can barely stand Neha’s sight.

I see how Karol can be hurt that Neha has lied to her all this time, but it doesn’t justify the shitty way she treats her at this point. Also, try at least to be smart and civil until the competition is over instead of actively sabotaging everything because now that you know Neha is not rich her ideas are worth less in your eyes. But no, why be smart when you can be completely stupid.

In all this we also find out that Karol is anorexic, which we suspected since episode 2, and that Neha is in love with her, which we knew since episode 1. We talk to Raquel, Claire, Tegan and Neha about Karol’s eating disorder and the episode ends with the winners about to be announced (Karol and Neha of course) but Karol faints in front of the entire school.

A few comments:

- I appreciate when the writing is solid enough to make the reader see where the plot is going, instead of pulling things out of nowhere for pure shock value. Surprises are good only when they are well planned.

- I also liked that Scholar had an active role. I didn’t expect them being a judge and even if it’s a bit of a stretch I liked seeing that we are not a secondary character in our story. However I’m still turned off by the fact that scholar’s department makes no difference in the story. A scholar in the fashion department can’t be considered the “general population” vote. I know that the excuse for them not being in the competition is that they don’t have a ranking yet, but it makes no sense in my opinion. Even blaming it on the school board is a stretch. But this is not the only instance something like this has happened, a scholar in science needing someone to explain them the science lecture. A scholar in math teaming up with Tegan and Ellie to only end up shopping for computer parts online. I wish these things were better thought.

- I’m calling out whoever in the dev/art/writing team has a CLEAR preference for Neha. She is the only one we can raise the meter this episode. In my gameplays the only one we got a romantic interaction in one of the past episodes. The only one we have an extra solo illustration with. And I assume we have a 1-1 illustration with her here because this is her arc (same as what happened with Tadashi), so I’m expecting a 1-1 illustration with Karol next episode. However I feel the bias for Neha, same as what I felt the last episode with Axel, and no one can change my mind.

- This episode made me dislike Karolina a lot. I assume I should be nicer with her because she has an eating disorder, but her being a bitch has nothing to do with her anorexia. The two things may come from the same issue, her needing to be perfect for whatever reason, and I’m sure we will get a teary explanation at some point that will make me forgive her, but still... she deserves take accountability for her own actions. I hope she looses the award.

- Neha doesn’t deserve to loose, she is talented and works hard, she deserves to find another partner. Don’t worry Neha, there are lots of people who can walk in a straight line in the world, there’s no need to attend an elite school for this. However she is also quite spineless, but there’s still hope for her, I understand why she has been lying all this time if she was trying to build a business in such an elitist world. I hope this serves her as a lecture and she learns to stand up for herself and others when such things happen.

All in all I liked the episode. It’s not perfect but as a character arc episode is thousands times better than Tadashi’s was. I just hope we’ll be done with Karol quickly and move on to better things.

[loruleanheart]

Desired Fate, Chapter 6

Read on ff.net

Read on AO3

Master Kohga, Sooga, and the Harbinger were waiting as Astor emerged from the Lost Woods.

“Well? Don’t keep us in suspense, three eyes. Did you manage to kill the princess?”

Astor ignored Kohga, staying silent. Astor’s attention was drawn to the Harbinger. It was emitting malice like a smokestack. The little black Guardian gave an ear-piercing shriek that made all three men cover their ears. It scuttled over to Astor, giving him a swift and stinging slap to the knee with its mechanical leg.

“Oh!” The prophet recoiled more in surprise than in pain.

“Ha! Now I HAVE to hear what happened!” The Yiga leader crowed.

“Fate intervened and saved the girl,” Astor stated, in a matter of fact way. He wasn’t even disappointed he had failed to end her life. Not even a little… And that’s what really scared him.

The Harbinger gave a series of enraged distorted beeps at the prophet.

Sooga gave a small laugh. “Ah, yes… Fate is fickle…”

“Well... there will be more opportunities... As long as the deed is done before she can unlock her power,” said the prophet, trying to sound as convincing as possible, although he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

“We’re never going to let you live this down. Not after the way you spoke to us before. And it looks like your Harbinger sees likewise. Lord Ganon’s chosen or not, you are not one of us. The Yiga Clan is not to be trifled with or strung along with your delusions of grandeur. Do I make myself clear, seer?”

“You tell him, Sooga!” Kohga chimed in.

Astor was growing exasperated. He couldn’t believe he was going to have to beg and manipulate these two degenerates to continue to ally with him. The prophet bit his tongue. “We are bound in the name of Calamity Ganon and by fate. We will need each other’s help if we are to achieve Lord Ganon’s grand purpose.”

The Yiga Leaders seemed uninspired by the prophet’s words.

“Alright. Let’s call it even then! You sure are terrible at prophesying your failures, little lord malice.” Kohga chuckled.

The three began to walk. The Harbinger continued to smack at the backs of Astor’s knees with its mechanical legs. Astor tried to stay a few steps ahead of its reach. As they walked, he explained at length what happened, embellishing the fight, and leaving out the part where the princess had asked her knight to spare his life. He couldn’t make sense of it. He never would have foreseen she would do something like that, nor could he understand why. He had nearly killed her after all. Young and full of sweetness and Hylia’s light she may be, no one was that forgiving. And then he thought about what he’d do if she and the knight had succeeded in capturing him.

So she thinks she can stop me from carrying out my destiny and convince me to turn against the Calamity? There is nothing that foolish girl can do to stop the Calamity, apart from finding her power...

And there it was... Deep down inside he knew the truth. The Calamity would still happen with or without him, and that was such a crippling thought.

“Good job, Three-Eyes! You may not have killed the princess, but at least you broke her widdle toy.” Kohga clapped his hands in a slow sarcastic manner. “I bet that took the wind out of her sails.”

“It did actually... Although I barely got to savor the look on her face. That Guardian was capable of a great deal. And now, thanks to my efforts it won’t cause further interference.”

“Like what? Playing a tune when she’s feeling sad?” Sooga challenged.

Kohga laughed. “A banana peel could do a better job of killing her than prophecy man here! I could throw it at her feet and she’d fall and crack her skull! Boom! Done! Game Over!”

Astor gave a sardonic scoff. “And yet, you already had your chance and you didn’t.  Nice try… Trust me when I say that now that the Guardian is no more, the future will proceed as it must, according to fate’s design.”

oOo

Impa and Princess Zelda closed in on the Royal Tech Lab, an imposing stone structure with an oversized Sheikah telescope on the roof. The Royal Tech Lab had only come to be in the recent past, having been built specifically for research of Guardians and other ancient Sheikah technology to oppose the resurrection of Calamity Ganon.

Impa looked down at the box she carried with a somber expression. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I miss the Guardian already.” 

Zelda acknowledged this with a nod of her head. “All isn’t lost yet.”

The two entered the Royal Tech Lab, transitioning from being in brilliant sunlight into the more subdued dimness of the laboratory. 

Purah and Robbie surveyed the wreckage that was the mysterious Guardian, it’s parts grimly but neatly arranged to make sure it was all there.

Robbie shook his head. “Oh, the one of a kind Guardian model…” He said in a rather dramatic fashion.

Zelda hesitated. “A-are you saying it can’t be repaired?”

“Oh, no,” Purah corrected. “I think it can be done. But it’s going to take some time.”

“I see…” Zelda gave a relieved sigh. “Then I have an additional favor to ask..”

“What’s that, Princess?” Purah blinked. The older sister of Impa was more worldly than other more traditional Sheikah women, having painted fingernails and a red streak through her naturally snow-white hair.

“If you find any additional data within the Guardian, please let me know right away, no matter how insignificant it may seem.”

“Will do, Your Highness. Not a problem.” Purah reassured. “I’ll just need the Sheikah Slate so I can transfer any potential remaining data.”

“Oh...” Zelda hesitated. “Alright. Um...” Zelda pushed back a lock of hair behind her ear. “The images that you initially extracted from the Guardian’s memory…” Zelda reached into her pouch for the Sheikah Slate. It was a longshot of an inquiry, but Robbie and Purah were researchers. Maybe they might know something after all. “Do you… know anything of this man? Perhaps, any accompanying data about him from the Guardian?” Zelda handed Purah the Sheikah Slate. 

Robbie and Purah took a long hard look at the man Zelda had come to know as Astor. Even Impa was craning her neck over Purah to try to see. Zelda stood by anxiously as they scrutinized the image.

Purah grinned slyly, studying Zelda’s expression.

“What….?” Zelda asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Can’t say I know anything, but it seems to me like you know more about this mystery man than you’re letting on. Am I correct?” Purah asked playfully.

“Well…”

“Your Highness…?” Impa took on a serious expression upon hearing her elder sister’s tone. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this? This sounds like most crucial information.” Impa half-joked, although she sounded slightly cross.

“Well… his image was on the Sheikah Slate and I had a run-in with him yesterday… His name is Astor. And well, he is our enemy… He said he was chosen by Calamity Ganon and  from what I can tell, he can harness the Calamity’s power with an orb he carries.”

Impa rubbed her chin, seemingly confused by Zelda’s tone and demeanor. “I can’t help but worry for your safety, Your Highness… I’m just relieved you lived to tell. But you seem... excited to learn more about him…. Which is… bizarre, but I guess that’s the scholar in you.”

Zelda blushed. It wasn’t a completely inaccurate assessment. “Well… If I can manage to stop Astor, maybe the Calamity can be averted.”

“Hmm, I could easily believe he is some sort of fanatical follower of Calamity Ganon... He certainly gives off that vibe,” Robbie observed. “So, was it this... Astor who broke the Guardian?” Robbie enunciated the name oddly. Making a sort of double entendre. 

“Yes…” Zelda confirmed.

Robbie shook his head and grabbed a nearby box, beginning to scrape the pieces of the Guardian into it. “ALL HAIL CALAMITY GANON! HE SHALL PROVIDE!” Robbie said, doing his best Astor impersonation given what little information he had.

Zelda couldn’t help but giggle. It wasn’t that far off the mark.

“And I’m sure we can provide a repaired Guardian and perhaps even the information you seek… Just give us some time.” Robbie said, in a normal tone of voice.

“Thank you, Robbie. I appreciate it. “There’s also a strong possibility that this Guardian is… not one of a kind. There have been at least a few incidents of a Guardian like this one leading an attack on Rito Village.”

“Interesting…” Robbie remarked.

Purah was still watching Zelda’s reactions and smiling at her incredulously.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Purah, or I’ll do it for you.” Impa hissed. “The Princess could have been killed!”

“Woah, calm down, sis. I was just trying to humor the Princess.”

“It’s alright, Impa, really....” Zelda offered nervously. 

“But, Your Highness…”

“I guess we should head back now. The Champion’s garments aren’t going to sew themselves.” Zelda sighed and headed for the door.

“Take care, Your Highness. Hope you get your man!” she called in a sing-song intonation, giving a brief wave goodbye, before being cut off by Impa’s stern voice.

“Ok, that's it!” Impa charged at Purah. Soon Impa was chasing Purah around the lab, using the main work table to keep distance between them.

“You WILL show respect to Her Highness!”

“‘I only meant it as ‘hope she can bring him to justice.’” Purah placated, innocently.

Robbie and Zelda shared a disconcerted look between them.

“Sisters...” Robbie crossed his arms, leaning back slightly against a wall to spectate. “Do you think they’ll still be fighting like this when they’re old and grey?”

[lairofsentinel]

I love your BG3 analysis posts and wanted to get your insight into one of Gale's lines. On point 21 you discuss his 'doubt' lines. There's another line that I find similar / fitting: if the main char tells Gale they think their night together was a mistake then he says something like "Let me clear your mind of doubts: it absolutely wasn't." He doesn't discuss the 'why' of it - or express he's disappointed but accepts their choice. He tries to discourage that line of thinking outright. Thoughts?

Hey, hello! Thanks for reading those big posts. :D

[Baldur’s Gate 3 Early Access Spoilers]

For those who don't know what those numbers mean: [Gale in 27 points or more]

Yeah, in (21) I found curious that he just says "doubt is a spoilsport" in another desperate attempt to make the MC stop thinking about it, and go for him already. Yes, you are right. The other line afterwards, when the MC shows doubts again about the whole night, he desperately tries to cast them aside. Again! They are like attempts of "no, no, dear, stop thinking right there. We are not a mistake, we are just we. Stop thinking. I don't care if I encourage questioning in general. On this matter, question not" XD

Which I found hilarious in comparison with his personality which is ALL the time in his mode "we need to doubt about everything", because well, that's a scholar. Scholars tend to be better at questioning than knowing things most of the time. This shows once more that he is desperate to stay with the MC, so far. I want to believe that there are not more hidden secrets, or ill-intended motives coming from him.

His mental state by the time he meets the MC is quite a mess. If you think that since too young he was abandoned by Mystra with that orb of Netherese devastation stuck in his chest... we can assume that there is a high chance for him to have been alone ever since. The quest in saving himself from that bomb probably prevented him to use time and energy in relationships (like I say in (15)), and by (12) we know he feels deadly alone. Especially if we take his description of how the bomb makes him feel, which is an increasing terror the longer he stays without consuming artefacts.

If you fail in that conversation of the Loss scene, when you insist about what he lost, he will push the MC away and will say something like "I'm strong enough to keep on". But we know that by the end of that night (or after the party in case MC did not romance him), he will say it anyway. He will talk about Mystra abandonment.  He can't hold it anymore. He needs to share the burden and find someone to trust. Which will be the MC, as a friend or a lover.

I still think about the mind-shocking impact that the Weave scene caused him. It's not only what he states, his mindset has been focused on solving his bomb condition for too long. Relationships have been out of question for a while (15).  And then, he has this Weave moment with the MC showing him their romantic interest; it not only took him by surprise, it caught him quite vulnerable too (too much feeling of loneliness and fear and despair plus the tadpoles looming danger), so the event had a stronger effect than he lets show in that moment. We know he thinks about that event the following days in between the Weave scene and the party, and apparently, that makes a click in him.

As I said, he is desperate for the MC who shared that magic moment of the Weave. Magic is his life, as he said, and sharing it with someone who has supported him and giving him their trust, it moves the ground he is walking on.

He is a char that, when a chance appears, he doesn't want to let is waste. And that romantic scene in the weave was a completely unexpected chance happening in front of him. Serendipity, as he said. (I don't know if by choosing the last option, the one in which you imagine nothing, Gale will want something anyway. I have to explore that.) (** I already explored this [here] **)

In sum, the concept here is that, as a scholar, he is into doubts and questioning all what you want. He will encourage such attitude in the MC. Except when it comes to question his emotions for the MC and their night together. Because questioning them, may cause abandon him. We also need to remember he was abandoned. Abandonment issues must to be added to his psychological profile. It was probably this issue the one that made him wait to the last moment before saying the truth. Because he is all about consent and let people know the truth, but he freaked out at the thought that maybe that truth could mean a second abandonment. That fear is there even if the MC did not romance him. He reached to a point in his life where loneliness, the bomb, and the tadpole became too heavy to deal with alone anymore. He needs the MC. And needs to be sure that they won't abandon him. That's why Gale ends up doing that rotten move of saying the truth only after sleeping with the romanced MC and after all that speech of the book of Anm: through intimacy he wanted to have a deeper link with the MC in order to prevent the abandonment. This is why he says “after all what we passed through, after the night we spent together”. He wants the MC baaaadly. And he  wants not to be abandoned again. You see him bending and breaking his usual philosophy just to avoid abandonment. That's... a bit dangerous.

Once more it gives me the feeling that Gale is a nice mature character, who knows where he walks as long as we are not in the emotional ground. Emotional-wise... seems that Gale has pretty bad experiences, filled with over-idealised situations (Mystra) or over-darkened by misery (his bomb condition and now the tadpole) and in the back of all that there is a constant abandonment issue that may make some situations quite... complicated.

Asking for middle reactions to Gale on these matters seems to be a bit too much for his char. XD This is why I like to joke that he is basically proposing the MC right there... I mean, the book of Anm speech? If you choose “hey Gale, we are not newlywed (stressing that fact), but newly acquainted”, he gives a shit to the definitions of the words (the scholar, uh), he says “let's write the prequel”. One can interpret it like... he is assuming he and the MC are walking that path through and through. He is riiight heading into marriage. Lol. I personally would not like this kind of chars, but I make my exception here because, at least, Gale has a solid reason to be this way: he may die at any moment.

This kind of soft emotional instability char may be a dangerous compound in Larian's hands. You see, Larian in DOS2 offered romances that clearly were not going to last after the ending of the game; and you had hints of that pretty early in the game: one companion was married looking for their spouse, and another was betrothed, and had a fling with the MC meanwhile, if you want to. Another companion you can romance, simply disappears later by the end of the game. So... Larian... is not Bioware. Having a man like Gale that can break or bend his usual philosophy and his morals to a certain degree when it comes to matters of the heart.... well... it's dangerous, to say the least.

I fear Mystra appearing, and telling him that she abandoned him not because she wanted to, but because the netherese orb put her in danger (a logical reason that Gale could accept without problems no matter how much he suffered because of it, check (4),(14) and (20) ). And if Gale gets rid of that orb, and Mystra asks him to be his Chosen One “with benefits” once more (lol)... I'm not so sure if he will not abandon the MC. Unless the MC accepts a polyamory relationship (with a goddess? XD), because I totally see Gale has no issues with Mystra or MC having lovers besides him. 

Magic is his life, and he longs a lot the powers granted by the title of the Chosen One. And Mystra's affections are where the true magical power lays (Gale's own words). So.... yes. Dangerous.

Ah, damn... I derailed again. Sorry.

More content of bg3 in general [here]