#i will learn! i will grow! i will... neeko! | art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sennamybeloved · 1 year ago

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4﹕alternate universe.

✭ pairing: senna x seren (s/i)

✭ word count: 2731

✭ note: more stuff for my pride prompts! i was listening to a song and got muse for bewitching senna. lots of awkward flirting and banter in this fic! seren is dumb and senna is a little mean.

✭ tag list: @dragonselfship, @minkymeatshop !!

[ reblogs always appreciated // prompt list can be found here! ]

As the sky grows dark and the air grows colder, Harrowing Eve's festivities begin anew. Each year, it's much of the same; cheesy decorations, pastries and candy, trick-or-treaters flooding the streets. Then, the witches show up, and everything changes, for better or for worse.

Seren recalls what it was like when he first met the coven many, many years ago. They were magnificent, cutting through the crowd like bolts of lighting. Some took to the sky on broomsticks, wings, or plumes of magic, whereas others walked—or crawled, or slithered, or pranced—right down the roads, every once and a while to acknowledge an awed child that caught their eyes. They were all scales and feathers, all neon and glitter, the smell of sweet candy and heady incense.

Every since he learned of their existence, Seren has always wanted to be just like the witches. They’re colorful, proud, and unique, which is all he’s ever wanted to be. It’s hard to dabble in the dark arts when you weren’t born into them, but fortunately, mere months before this Harrowing, Seren was blessed—or cursed, rather, depending on how you look at it—by the bite of an unusual red fox.

He was transformed into a lycan, more specifically a werefox. It was not painful or frightening. He did kill anyone, nor did he break anything of importance. He just feels different, and looks different sometimes, but he mostly feels. He feels Runeterra, the magic laden within its cracks and crevices, unending possibilities hidden behind a smokescreen forged by humanity.

This year, he’ll party with the big leagues. He’ll run with witches and monsters. He’ll eat all the candy he can possibly stomach, and he’ll kick ass at the apple bobbing competition.

In the early days of autumn, he met a witch named Neeko. He was testing out his werefox form, and she was… also testing out his werefox form. She’s a shapeshifter. A chameleon.

“Say I wanted to befriend your coven,” he’d said to her a few nights before the party. They were sitting on the rooftop of a schoolhouse, and Neeko was braiding his hair. “How would I go about that?”

“Just talk to them,” Neeko says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “That’s what Neeko did. One day, she went up to the spider lady, Elise, and said ‘hello, spider lady!’ She was very nice. Loved Neeko.”

Elise? Somehow, Seren doubts she was all that nice to Neeko. Though, it seems that Neeko doesn’t care how cruel the lady witches can be, as long as they provide her with ample attention. Seren respects it.

“Just talk to them,” Seren echoes, sounding unsure. Neeko nods, egging him on. She’s so confident and encouraging that he doesn’t stop to think that things may go differently for him, a gritty, not-witch with fur for brains.

On Harrowing Eve, Seren sticks to what he knows: apple bobbing. He does kick ass at it, by the way. Those kids never stood a chance.

But he does have to talk to the witches at some point. He promised Neeko, promised himself. His chest tightens and his throat closes whenever one passes him by, throttled by their elegance and beauty. He just has to say hello to one of them. How hard can that be? How hard should it be?

The first witch that really catches his eye, the first one that makes him want to talk, is the one the kids he just defeated in the apple bobbing competition flocked to once they were done sulking. Seren pears over the tiny crowd, honing in on the other side of the square, where a lady, clad in colorful robes and a token pointy wide-brimmed hat, stands beside a creature of some sort. Deciding that this deserves a better, closer look, he follows the children, keeping a safe number of paces behind to avoid drawing attention.

Upon closer inspection, the creature isn't so much of an animal, but instead a pumpkin brought to life. It has sharp fins and a wide maw forged from magic, causing it to resemble a piranha. The lady is feeding it, paying little mind to the children that crowd her. They ask questions, "What's its name? Where did it come from? Is it your pet?" The lady gives half-answers and forced smiles. She doesn't say much.

The children eventually disperse, feeling the sting of her apathetic disposition, which leaves only Seren. He stands there awkwardly, arms folded over his chest, face oddly blank as he watches the lady and her pumpkin-piranha. He only realizes that he's staring when the lady speaks: "Do you need something?"

He startles, blinking rapidly, prying his eyes from whatever he was looking at to meet her gaze. A staggering emerald green.

"Oh," he mouths. "No, ma'am. I apologize. I was just looking at your, uh, pet."

The lady hums. "Not a pet," she says, patting the creature on its head, much like you'd do to a pet, before putting two gloves fingers between her lips and whistling. Seren's confusion turns to awe as another creature—this time made mostly of metal, like a cannon given teeth, which looks absolutely absurd—floats toward her, beckoned from a dark alleyway. The creature's sharp green eyes lock onto the pumpkin-piranha, and within the moment, it gobbles it up.

"It's food." The lady finishes, and Seren's mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

This new creature assumes the pumpkin's place at her side. She leans down and strokes it affectionately, hand ghosting over enchanted steel. Seren blinks. He forgets just how weird things can get around the Harrowing.

"Ah, I see." He says, trying to sound casual, but it ends up coming out strained. The creature chatters its large serrated teeth at Seren, like a warning. Seren steps back.

The lady chuckles dryly. "S'not gonna bite you," she snorts. On a silent command, the creature goes limp in Senna's hands. She picks it up and swings it over her shoulder, resting it there, like a literal weapon—a cannon. It's perfectly still, appearing inanimate, but its eyes still move, blinking and darting around. It makes Seren feel uneasy.

“Hah. Uhm…” he coughs, clearing his throat. “Anyways, sorry to bother.”

The lady dismisses him easily, and if he was smarter, he would’ve left right then and there, but he doesn’t want to let this opportunity go to waste. After a brief silence, he speaks up again, “What’s your name?”

The lady, who was preparing to walk away and carry on with her night, halts and turns to face him, appearing throughly unamused.

“You don’t sound all that sorry,” she says, and Seren swallows thickly.

“What?”

“If you were so sorry for bothering me,” she hums. “You’d stop bothering me.”

An ugly cocktail of shame, embarrassment, and anxiety wells up within him, making him want to flee and hide. Somehow, he manages to stand his ground- sort of, though he’s certain that he doesn’t look all that confident.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry,” he stammers, beginning to slink away, fighting the urge to take off running. “I’ll go. Have a nice night, ma’am—”

Suddenly, the lady witch erupts into bitter laughter. It does little to ease the tension, but it does make Seren stop and listen.

“Stop. Don’t play that game. If you want to talk to me, then talk.”

Seren blinks in surprise. She watches the lady take her gun-creature off her shoulder and prop it up against a nearby wall. It’s beastlike eyes flutter shut, as if it’s taking a nap. Unsurprisingly, talking to a witch feels slightly less frightening when she’s not obviously armed. He gulps down his nerves and rises to her bait.

“Okay,” he says, trying his best not to follow up with yet another apology.

“I’m Senna,” she answers at last.

“Senna,” he echoes. “That’s a lovely name. What’s it mean?”

She gives him a strange look, and he realizes that most people don’t know what their own names mean. That isn't common knowledge. He shrinks a little.

“Uhm… my name’s Seren.” He says meekly. “Means ‘star.’ I think it’s pretty.”

She offers a slow nod. Is she judging him? She’s probably judging him. God, Neeko must be real charming to keep getting away with this.

No, it’s not that she’s more charming, it’s that she’s confident. Seren isn’t. Never has been, never will be. Dammit.

“Well, Seren…” she turns his name into something nasty with her tone. “What are you doing here? As far as I know, werewolves change on the full moon. Thought your kind spend the Harrowing in the forest.”

Werewolves? Oh, that’s what Senna must think he is. To be fair, there is little distinction between a werefox and a werewolf: both have pointed ears, sharp teeth, glowing eyes, and scattered patches of fur on their otherwise humanoid bodies. Seren does very little to hide her supernatural state from the world, though it does earn him many judgmental looks—and maybe something worse, someday, if he’s not careful.

“Oh, no. I’m not a werewolf. I’m a werefox!” He informs her with a smile. “We’re very different. Us foxes tend to change on the new moon, and, not that this matters, but I usually have full control over my transformations.”

Senna gives him another quick look-over, harsh gaze scanning him from bottom to top, as if she’s recontextualizing him as a fox. “Werefox,” she echoes. “I don’t think I’ve ever met one of those.”

“Well, I’m honored to be the first.” He punctuates his words with a stiff laugh. She doesn’t laugh with him—or even smile, for that matter.

“So, you…” he begins, trying to keep the conversation rolling. “You’re a witch.”

She glares at him. “What else would I be?”

Seren tenses. Oh god, she really hates him.

“Uh… I don’t know! I’ve just never seen one like you before.” He says; a very blatant lie. He just doesn’t know what else to say. He still wants to earn her favor, but he’s panicking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She presses, not keen on making this easy for him.

He stammers nonsensically for a moment before answering. “You’re, uhm… the- uh…” she points toward the gun-creature, which is leaning against the wall. “That. Is that your familiar?”

Senna’s gaze flicks from the Seren, to the creature, then back to Seren again. “Something like that, I guess.”

“Cool,” he croaks, his grin turning into something of a grimace. This is unbearably awkward.

Seren should excuse himself. He should dip into an alleyway and run for his life. He should leave the party—leave this town—and hide his face forever.

But, against everything that is good and sensible within him, he harps on, “And also you're, uhm..." suddenly, his mouth feels dry and his throat feels tight, "you're pretty."

There's silence. He spares her a very quick glance. She's staring at him, eyes wide and unbearable green from behind her round-rimmed glassed. He doesn't look long enough to read her expression.

"Not trying to be weird," he follows it up with, wringing his hands anxiously. "Just... saying."

The silence persists for a moment longer, before she makes a sound that is halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "Okay," she says. "Well, you enjoy the rest of your night, wolfie."

Wolfie? No, he's a fox. That would technically make him foxie—oh, and she's walking off. Goddammit!

"U-Uh, yeah. You too, miss!" He calls after her, but she's gone before he knows it.

He's left feeling terrible, ashamed, and humiliated. She really hated me, he thinks to himself. So much for trying to put myself out there. Fuck this party.

But no matter how far he shrinks into himself or how hard he wills it away, the party still persists, and to avoid further fear of missing out, he stays and tries to enjoy it. He keeps away from crowds, hiding in the shadows and munching on candy. Whenever he sees a witch, because they're always bound to show up, he hides his face and quickly flees for another hiding spot. The cycle revolves until it's almost dawn.

He's sitting outside one of the village's less popular graveyards, leaning against the metal fence as he unwraps his final piece of good candy; after this, he'll have to make a venture to get more. Either that, or he'll just go home.

He pops it in his mouth and tips his head back to watch the sky. The stars twinkle like a thousand fireflies, fluttering around the moon, which is as round and iridescent as a pearl. The air is crisp, smelling of dying leaves and rotting earth. It's peaceful.

His peace is suddenly interrupted by a voice, husky and feminine and sickeningly familiar.

"Hey, wolfie."

Oh, god. It's that fucking witch again.

Seren thinks he could just die then and there. He nearly chokes on his candy, managing to gulp it down unceremoniously before looking up at her. She's just as enchanting as she was the first time he saw her, with those full lips and striking green eyes. Thick curly hair pokes out from beneath her hat and billows over her shoulders. The fabric of her hat is slightly iridescent, which is even more apparent in this light. Her cape—oh, she doesn't have a cape. She has wings. Orange, translucent, whispy bat wings. They're only half there, clearly formed by magic as opposed to physical matter. Had she always had them? Perhaps Seren had been so distracted the first time they met that he'd simply written them off as a cape.

Ah, he's staring again. She's waiting for him to answer her, lips pursed, arms folded over her chest. He feels a blush creep back onto his face.

"Hey," he croaks, voice cracking lightly. "It's, uh- I'm not a wolf, by the way."

She cracks a little smile, suppressing a chuckle. A warmth blossoms in his chest. He may be laughing at her, but at least he can make her laugh.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" She asks, and he's surprised by the fact that she's even making conversation with him. He thought she hated him. She still sort of looks and sounds like she does, if he's being honest.

"Party got boring," he lies. "Wanted some peace and quiet."

She hums. "I understand that."

The silence that follows is peaceful instead of awkward, and Seren tries not to ruin it by looking over at her too much, despite really wanting to.

"Do you live far from here?" She asks, apropos of nothing.

He blinks. "Uh, no. I actually live just outside of town. In the woods."

Senna smiles, warm and genuine. Seren's breath hitches. "The coven is busy for the next few days, but if you'd like to spend some time together on, say, Tuesday, you can come over to my house."

Seren sputters. Spend some time together? What in the name of hell is she talking about? There is no way he's talking to the same lady he met in the town square.

"What?" He asks, audibly shocked. "You're serious?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "I don't talk for my health," she scoffs. "You want to or not?"

Okay, yep, this is definitely the same lady.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I do." He nods vigorously.

Her smile returns. "Fantastic. Look for a round, two-story cottage in the middle of town. It's covered in tinsel, hanging lanterns, and bones." He nods along with everything she says, committing it all to memory.

"That's great, I..." His mouth hangs open. Every question he wanted to ask dies on his tongue. He looks at her. She's already backing away, starting on the path back toward the village. "Wait, miss-"

"Senna."

"Okay, Senna. My apologies. I have a question-"

"What? I told you where to meet me. I'm a busy woman. I'll talk to you then."

And with that, she's gone. Again. Seren is left standing there, amongst a pile of candy and wrappers, alone on a moonlit night as a party resounds in the distance. He's confused, very confused, but he also feels strangely giddy. He can't help himself from smiling as he ponders the idea of being her friend.

He's worried that he'll mess this up, but considering how terrible he's acted thus far, and how she pursued him regardless, he doesn't think that he'll have to worry about that.

#* 💚 / death is drawn to life .#senna (🎃)#lotus writes #selfship pride prompts #self ship community #f/o community #oc x canon #self insert x canon

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