#it's not like leaving the IPC would make his life any better

[starcurtain]

I guess it's because his Warp is called 'gilded imprisonment', and the phonecall with Jade where he says 'I don't wanna bet anything just to escape your clutches'.

Kinda makes him a foil to Robin and warped parallel to Sunday in a way I think if you see him as thinking of his job as a gilded cage. It may not really be true, maybe he can walk away anytime he wants I'm sure he has the power and ability to even if hed be up for silencing if he left the Stonehearts, but he has nowhere else to go so he may just be trapping himself there with his own apathy. Hope that made sense lol

Always enjoy reading your thoughts ty for the food 🙏

(Will answer the part about the character foils in a different post because that is a whole long thing of its own!!)

See, I definitely think this is the issue, because I have had people say that exact thing to me "Well his warp is called gilded imprisonment so that has to be referring to the IPC!" Like... Do people think the IPC has a monopoly on the word "gilded" or something? Or that "gilded" can only refer to literal gold coins and not any of the many, many metaphors for being a prisoner to destiny that are swirling around Aventurine?

"To gild" means to "cover thinly with gold." It doesn't mean to create wealth, to imply actual money, or even to relate at all to the concept of "golden handcuffs" (which is what people seem to be mistaking it for). Gilding could more accurately be described as a process of taking something cheap--like low-quality nickel--and plating it over with the thinnest layer of gold, to try to make the item seem much better than it is. Gilding something is often like dressing up a pig--you can make it look pretty on the outside, but on the inside, it's still a pig.

Just the thinnest layer of gold over a darker interior...

There's nothing about "gilded imprisonment" that automatically has anything to do with the IPC, unless you're already coming in with the impression that Aventurine is a prisoner of the IPC. If you start with a preconceived notion of what "imprisonment" means for Aventurine, then and only then do we make the jump to "Oh, this must be in reference to the IPC." Take that preconception out and there's zero connection lol.

Even the Chinese name of the warp, "囚石铸金" (lit. "Prison stones cast [in] gold") and other languages' translation of the banner name (like German's "Stein zu Gold," lit. "Stone to gold") imply that the most important element of the banner is "coating over something bad with something good"--i.e., turning prison walls into gold, turning the "stone" of his dark past into something shining. (This actually makes a nice irony in several languages, because he turned the rocky desert of his homeland and the stone walls of a prison into gold by... earning a Cornerstone and becoming a "Stoneheart"--or, that is, he himself is a "worthless" stone that has been thinly coated over in shiny wealth.)

But personally, if we really want to go by the English name of the banner, I would argue that it is much more likely Aventurine's banner name is a reference to his own troubled relationship with the concept of "blessings" and "destiny" than anything to do with the IPC.

From the beginning of his life, Kakavasha was told he was "blessed" and that he was the "chosen one." He was favored by a goddess, born on the day of her rebirth, and told that he will be the savior of his people. So, we can literally say he's the Avgin "golden child," which is further supported by the constant connection between Aventurine and gold colors (his golden-haired appearance, his mother's gold accessories with him since his birth, the word "Avgin" itself even meaning [golden] honey). So as the "golden child," we have this perception that his power of incredible luck, gifted to him by a goddess, must be a blessing, a good thing.

And yet that's not how it plays out for him. What his family tells him is a blessing ends up functioning more like a curse for Aventurine, when it becomes clear he can't use that luck of his to protect those who mean the most to him. He might be the goddess's golden child, the chosen one--but no one else is chosen with him. He's a failed savior, an incapable hero, and there is no escape from the destiny which has been decided for him.

There's a reason his lightcone is called "Inherently Unjust Destiny." His own destiny, decided when he was born favored of an aeon, makes him a prisoner of the suffering that he can survive but never avoid.

We see how much this haunts him constantly throughout his experiences in 2.1...

To me, I would interpret the English banner name "Gilded Imprisonment" as much more related to how Aventurine's blessing, which is supposed to make him the favored, lucky, golden child, is actually nothing more than a thin veneer over the terrible destiny that binds him, continually costing him everything and everyone he loves.

On to the other point entirely, I think people might also really be misinterpreting that sentence about "escaping Jade's clutches." Again, I think this relates a lot to the fact that people are coming into Aventurine's character with this preconception of him as a prisoner to the IPC, so they're interpreting this sentence in the most literal way possible ("I want to get away from you"), but that is actually not what Aventurine is saying at all there.

Jade's rank in the IPC is P46. If Aventurine is promoted to P46, he would no longer be her subordinate. Therefore, when he says "I don't want to bet anything just to escape your clutches," this is actually a (vaguely snarky, to be sure) compliment. Aventurine is saying "I don't want you to think I'm engaging in a bet [that I know I'll win] because I dislike working for you."

It's supposed to be flattery. He's saying "Don't think I'm trying to get away from you, oh great Madam Jade. I wouldn't try to make any bets just to get out of being your underling."

I think it's got a healthy dose of sarcasm to be sure, because Jade herself would have trained Aventurine to snatch every chance to get ahead. So now he's in the hilarious situation of having to balance the expected respect to his mentor ("Of course I would never want to leave you! You're the best boss!") with the fact that his own mentor wants him to be cut-throat at all costs lolol.

It's irony-laced flattery for sure.

That's why his next line is "Well, if it's just a friendly bet though, then sure, I'll engage." He's saying "So long as you know I'm not betting because I dislike working for you, sure, I'll play along." Because he knows that's what he's supposed to do--as a Stoneheart, he should be seizing every opportunity to advance. He virtually has to make this bet that he'll be promoted just to demonstrate the desirous personality that Jade would be expecting.

And honestly, it's supposed to be a callback to their first scene together too. They literally add that to text so people can't miss it. Kakavasha came to Jade as a person "hungry" to rise up the chain, to change his circumstances. He's making the same bet again to suggest to her that he hasn't changed in the slightest even after his experiences in Penacony.

(Now, why he's trying to act like he hasn't changed in front of Jade is another story, and "Aventurine is out to destroy the IPC" conspiracy theorists can run wild with this one for sure.)

But yeah. That line... really does not mean what people think it means, apparently.

Anddddd I'll get to the character foils in another post; this was already long enough as-is! 😂

[verinarin]

How Ratio handles his reckless partner during a mission

I wrote this as a character study to better understand and illustrate how he treats people he respects and trusts (*´꒳`*)

So fluffiest fluff ever; in Ratio’s standards ofc

Please tell me if you guys want a part 2 of this ٩( ᐛ )و

Part Two ψ(｀∇´)ψ - Part Three (о´∀`о)

Support me on Ko-fi ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

“I often wonder how does the IPC’s HR department handles the recruitment process,” he sighs as he walks towards your body slumped to the floor as a result of your trademarked clumsiness

He stood there beside you waiting for you to sprung back to life like you usually do “How rude, for your information I aced my test,” you huff as you dust off your hands

“Is that so ?,” he replies candidly, he continues to leave you behind without much thought, he knows you possess some qualities that’s befitting for a investor but still you’re too clumsy and reckless at times

Hence why the higher ups assign him as your supervisor or so to speak, he acknowledges your lack of experience as well as your potential that’s why he agreed to be your supervisor

But he didn’t sign up to be your babysitter….

“Wait up would ya?,” you whine as you quickly jog to be by his side

He tilted his head to the side, studying you from afar to assess any damages on your body from the fall earlier “Time awaits for no one,”

“Please do think before anything else, stop making a fool out yourself while representing the IPC,” he continues his statement as he paced himself to be slightly slower for you to catch up

You huff feeling a little bit dejected by his statement but it’s the truth and from this past year of working beside him, you knew he always have your best interest at heart, well even though most of the times he verbally bullies you

“Yes yes of course Mr. Ratio,” you smile as you walk beside him, you notice that he slowed down his pace earlier, it made you smile to know that behind that rude demeanour he does care a lot

He steal a glance at your expression before resuming to look at the road ahead, he can’t help but to feel comfort in knowing that you didn’t seem to take his words to heart

He always finds it hard to express his truth towards others because to be frank the truth hurts, yet the pain itself is a important element to achieve improvement, pain used as a motivation of sorts

Most people deemed his truthful nature to be harmful yet you’re astoundingly adept in his true nature, you easily read between the lines and see his objective clearly

“Can I ask you something ?,” his sudden inquiry surprises you, it is usually you who do the asking, you deem this as a pleasant surprise

“Sure go ahead,” you reply casually while masking your excitement, he rarely does this so you’re ecstatic

“I know you’re both emotionally and intellectually intelligent, but I can’t seem to grasp why you’re so reckless at times,” he smiles as he ask this question, he’s mostly likely to remember a gamble you took a few weeks ago

Well granted you almost lose your life by gambling your life away in a literal sense to gain a dictator’s trust towards the IPC, but at least you won

Ever since that stunt, Ratio seems to respect you more although afterwards he berated your gamble for two hours straight

“Audaces fortuna iuvat,” you reply as you stare at his face, his merely scoffs as he took notice of the philosophy behind your statement

In a sudden trance he leans down towards your face, ardently reading through your flustered expression caused by the sudden close proximity “Fortune favours the bold, that’s very true to yourself,” his voice deepens as it is drenched in sultriness

Well this is an uncharted territory between you both-

He then leans back towards his previous position, smirking as he relish in your dumbstruck expression, he gently strokes your hair as a sign of acknowledgement something you didn’t knew you enjoyed before

“Now then we should get going, our next meeting is due in approximately 13 minutes,” he stated as he retracts his hand away and leaves you behind yet again but this time speechless and flustered

“H-hey !, what was that about ?,” you huff as you try to catch up with him, not knowing that he’s currently blushing himself underneath that cold exterior of his

“What have I done..” he mutters as he covers his face with his alabaster head

[dragonmonstermilk]

I'm soon normal for Aventurine and Childes boss forms, I swear🙂

Mean Aventurine and Childe Boss forms fucking an unfortunate secretary/+ assassin as a reward for doing so well!

(Threesome, like I said, so normal for both of them, I swear😃)

Anon, you're so right. I've been obsessed with Foul Legacy Childe since i've been playing genshin ! He's just so big that it makes my size difference kink CRAZY! And Aventurine boss form? Lord have some mercy on me because I love how cunty it is + size difference here too. Tbh??? A dream to be sandwiched between them!

Bosses reward

Thanks to anon to they request! This was my first time writing a 3some so sorry if some things aren't quite clear! I really hope you enjoy it though !

tw: threesome, dubcon, bossform!Aventurine × Foul Legacy!Childe x hiddenidentity!Reader (formal IPC secretary but works as an assasin), gn!reader, slight choking, lots of cum, cumming inside, mention of public sex

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your mission was finished. The target that your bosses needeed you to eliminate now was gone. You sighed of relief, using your hand to swat way some sweat mixed with blood. You didn't really want to kill him but he was talking some nonsense shit and wasn't being rational, at all. You would have, gladly, saved his life but he preferred death.

As your footsteps echoed through the empty and long hallway you soon arrived to your bosses door. Taking a big breath you pushed the door open and saw them in their monster form: Foul Legacy Childe and Aventurine of Stratagems. The two of them seemed too busy to show off each other's strength, so you thought it was better if you came later. As you were to go away, Childe grabbed your hand and with a swift move took you in between his arms, both of you levitating in the air.

"That's how you wanna play, Childe?" asked Aventurine, a tone lower than his usual voice. Childe huffed, and keeping his eyes on Aventurine, he circled your nipple with the tip of his pointy finger while the other hand was on your neck, applying a slight pressure. You gasped, your eyes searching Aventurine's ones. Childe continued to circle your nipple, whispering sweet nothing into your ear. Aventurine got closer, your body shaking from the fear.

"Ow, poor little one. Why are you shacking?" mocked you Aventurine, twirling a strand of your hair, making you feel embarrassed. Childe still tortured your nipple, now teasing the other one as the hand on your neck was now in between your legs. Aventurine opened yours legs, him too levitating in the air.

"N-no, wait, please..." you begged, your voice cracking and eyes teary. You didn't want this! Why they were doing this to you? If they had some business between them, well, it's their problem!

Aventurine gripped you chin "Be a good pet and let us use you, mh?" His tone intimidating. You nodded in fear, afraid of what they could have done to you.

Childe licked your ear, his forked tongue making you shiver. Childe chuckled as he ripped of your pants. You instantly tried to close your legs but Aventurine was holding your ankles. You couldn't move, no matter what you did.

You were scared but at the same time it was all so exciting. Both Aventurine and Childe laughed as they felt your wetness. "You're so ready for us, little one" said Childe, talking as if you weren't right there, trapped in between these enormous monsters.

Still levitating from the ground, you could see the shape of Aventurine's cock, feeling Childe's one. You swear they were so big that worried how could they fit inside you or in any of your body parts. While you were in trance Aventurine was touching your sensitive area, circling your neediest point, even using the tip of his clawed fingers. Your moans bought you back to reality. None of them really spoke, too busy to make you feel good. Childe was leaving a trail of wet kisses and hickeys on you neck. Aventurine made sure your legs were spread enough to him.

Childe looked down, seeing your pretty hole clenching around nothing. "My, my, you sure are excited about this, aren't you?" teased Childe, his cock throbbing. Aventurine stroked his cock, leaking precum and you felt yourself clenching a few times, salivating at his size. Withouth warning Aventurine pushed himself inside you. You arched you back, gasping at the feeling of the stretch, pain and pleasure mixing it together, again.

A few tears came down your cheeks as Childe pumped his cock, taking then your hand. "Jerk me off" he said, his tone even lower than Aventurine's ones. You nodded, hand pumping down his shaft, squeezing his tip as his precum fell down his cock and on your hand, "Good pet, that's it. So nhgg good". Your moans and Aventurine's and Childe's groans filled the room. You cried out when you felt both Aventurine's and Childe's claws sinking into your skin, both of them going faster and faster with their thrusts.

"C-cumming!" You screamed, Aventurine pounding hard into you, touching your deepest spot. You were seeying the stars and didn't care about anything. The door was still open and you didn't care if everyone who passed could hear all of your moans and cries. You squeezed Aventurine's cock, cumming all around it.

"F-fuck, yes, that's it baby, squeeze me like that. I'm going to fill you up so good" moaned Aventurine, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came inside you. You bited your lips, feeling all of his warm seed inside you. Childe thrusts came to an end too, his cum spurting all over your hand and on your sides.

You were all spent up, so much that they became humans again. The tree of you now laying naked on the ground, taking deep breaths. You closed your eyes, too tired to start a conversation with them. Childe and Aventurine looked at each other and then looked down at you, caressing your sleepy face. Then, the two guys kissed your cheeks.

"Have a good sleep" whispered them in unison before closing their eyes and falling asleep on your chest.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

[justatinycatgirl]

Oaths & Loyalties

link to ao3 version

(direct fan content of @havanillas' roleswap au)

“No.”  A terse and firm rejection.  Lapis Lazuli had expected this from Sapphire, his coworker known for his unwavering dedication to his oaths.  The oath to treasure his cornerstone like his own life is no different.

“Oh come on Sapphire, it’s not that terrible of a plan, is it?” Lapis groaned.  It wasn’t such a terrible plan to himself, deceiving The Family with two cornerstones that are not his own.  It was a gamble whether they would take the bait, but that’s what Lapis specializes in.

“It’s a horrible plan!  Not only do you intend to put I and Miss Topaz’s cornerstones at risk for your scheme, but also risk your own life at the end of it all.  Are you even sure any of this will work?”

“Well of course not, no scheme is ever one hundred percent certain to go through as planned.” Lapis shrugs.

“Mine always are.” Sapphire retorts, causing Lapis’ face to twist into a sneer.

“Well, aren't you a genius.  Perhaps I could make some ends meet and get you hooked up with the Genius Society?” Lapis derided, leaning forward with his hands on his hips.

Sapphire’s eyebrows raised at Lapis’ contemptuous mocking, before letting out a derisive huff of his own.  He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Did I mistakenly probe at an old wound, Lapis Lazuli?  As far as I knew, you had cut ties with any and all factions related to Nous.” Sapphire quirked an eyebrow at the man before him, who’s shoulders now tensed at his pointed statement.

Lapis’ gaze leaves the slender man in front of him, now resting on his shoes. “Yes, I did.  I was only being sarcastic.” His gaze shifts to the side now, brows furrowed in irritation.

“While we’re on the topic, your loyalty is…concerning, to say the least.” Sapphire begins, rising from his seat and slowly making his way to the broader shouldered man. “You gave up on Erudition after the Genius Society rejected you, you couldn’t fully dedicate yourself to The Hunt, I do wonder how long it will take until you break your oath to Preservation as well.” He was now standing directly in front of Lapis, looking down his nose at him with a contemptuous glare.

Lapis grit his teeth, clenching his fists at his sides.  He wanted to say many things to this man, things he knew he couldn’t if he wanted his plan to work out correctly.  They need to at least tolerate each other for things to work out.  But this proud bastard is making that really difficult right now.

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking again. “I can assure you, my loyalty to the IPC is unwavering.  This corporation has done a lot for me, I have no reason to be so fickle.”

“Now,” A swift topic change, lest he blow a gasket. “As for my plan for Penacony.  I can assure you that your and Topaz’s cornerstone’s will be safe.  Even if The Family despises the IPC, they should know better than to mess with our property.”

“I suppose you do have a point…” Sapphire reluctantly admits. “But what of yourself?”

“Well,” Lapis smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “We will just have to see on that.  If all goes well, both the cornerstones and myself will return unscathed.  At worst, only the cornerstones will, and Penacony will still be back in the IPC’s grasp.  Either way, it will be a success.”

Sapphire narrows his eyes at the man, lips pressed together tightly, until he sighs.  He hangs his head and his shoulders slack, and he uncrosses his arms to hold out a hand to his coworker. “Fine then.  Against my better judgment, you shall have my cornerstone.”

Lapis could almost jump for joy at Sapphire’s delayed acceptance, but he knew better than that.  He had to keep his poker face.

He takes his hand in his own, and gives it a firm shake. “You won’t regret it.”

“I hope you won’t give me reason to.”

[theother-victoria]

all hearts as one beneath the sun

SYNOPSIS: before kakavasha dissolves into the nihility, there is one hope he has to let go of. may you meet again in a kinder world and under a warm sun.

CHARACTERS: kakavasha, aventurine, dr ratio, aventurine's family, sunday

TAGS: angst, no comfort, established relationship, mentions of suicide, 4k+ wc

TAGLIST: @mitsvriii, @harque, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore, @moineauz

NOTES: sobbed to "had I not seen the sun" the entire time I was writing this I love making myself cry w my own work

special thanks to @akutasoda, @tragedy-of-commons, and @https-sourlimes for proofreading this! love u all <33

link to the playlist

Aventurine was mildly surprised when he received word that he would be handling the Penacony mission. Why him, of all the Ten Stonehearts? Surely someone more capable such as Opal would be trusted with a mission of this caliber. 

He only realized why when he pried further into the details. 

Penacony was a death trap. With so many powerful and important people gathered in one place, one wrong move on his part would spell his end.

He chuckles sardonically. Figures. They’re sending their most suicidal employee out for a suicide mission.

As if to rub the situation into his face, he finds out they’re pairing him with Dr. Ratio. What purpose is he supposed to serve, suicide prevention? Too little, too late, in his opinion. 

The doctor doesn’t look too thrilled about the fact either. It makes Aventurine feel somewhat better about this whole situation. 

“You’d best get your affairs settled before we leave, gambler. The odds that you make it back alive from this mission aren’t as high as you’d hope they’d be.”

“Ooh, well I do like the sound of that.”

A glare sent his way makes Aventurine roll his eyes, but he shuts up anyway. Plans are made and discussed for what role each of them will be playing before it’s time to leave. 

“Well then, I look forward to working with you in Penacony, Doctor.”

“Just don’t act like a complete idiot and we’ll be fine.”

The two men head their separate ways. Ratio’s advice to settle his affairs lingers in his mind, though. That means there’s a will he has to sign, assets he has to distribute, funeral arrangements to be made, and more. Of course, most, if not all of it, will be going toward you. You’d be set for the rest of your life, never having to work a day again if you so chose. 

He heaves a sigh. Ah, it’s all so tedious. It was all so much easier before you came along. He had no will to worry about. He’d toss caution to the wind every mission and wind up sorely disappointed when he returned, still alive. If he did end up dying, his assets would end up being pawned off and most likely make their way back to the IPC somehow. So what even was the point then?

With all that being said, he didn’t mind putting in all that extra work for your peace of mind and so you’d continue to benefit, even after his death. 

Still, the stakes this time around are higher, and he has you to consider now before placing his bets. One wrong move and you’d be left without someone to welcome home. And then there’s the consideration of whether he’d be willing to die when the moment came. Sure, he’d attempted several times before but they’d all failed. Would he be able to take the plunge this time, should the opportunity present itself? 

“Hey, Doc?”

Ratio is about to leave, but the uncharacteristic hint of hesitation in his voice makes him stop and look over his shoulder.

“... How can you tell if you’ve lived a life worth living?”

Ratio stares at the blonde in silence in disbelief over what he’s hearing. Aventurine chuckles, trying to dispel the awkwardness that’s settled in the air.

“No answer? Never mind-”

“That answer will vary from person to person. However, if you were to ask me personally…”

The doctor’s ruby eyes flit over Aventurine’s frame, narrowing in contemplation- and perhaps a hint of resignation. 

“Ask yourself this question: can you die today without any regrets?”

“Can I die today without any regrets?” Doctor, what were you thinking when you posed that rhetorical question on me? Obviously the answer would be no!

Expensive leather shoes click against stone as Aventurine hurriedly makes his way through the Dreamscape. The weight of having mere hours left to live looms above his head like an anvil, leaving him scrambling to figure out how to cheat death- not for the hope of living to see another day, but so he can carry out his mission. 

When confronted with death, even a suicidal man will cling to the urge to live for one reason or another. 

He’s hardly paying attention to where he’s going, muttering out half-hearted apologies to those he bumps into as he stumbles through the Dreamscape before he ends up in a secluded area. The kaleidoscopic iridescence in the corners of his vision makes him stumble and he audibly groans when a searing pain flashes through his temples, the Harmony’s brand on his mind assailing him again. 

Dammit… am I really at the end of the line now? And before I could do anything meaningful either…

He hears the sound of a… child humming some distance away? That’s strange, there’s no one else here. 

“Mister, are you lost too?”

That voice. 

He turns around slowly, as if that would change anything. Aventurine’s eyes dart across the boy standing before him, with rags for clothes and scraped knees. The child in front of him is everything he is not- or rather, what he was, but is no longer. Optimistic, with bright shining eyes. Hope still exists for him. 

Those eyes. Oh, it’s himself. 

Aventurine thinks he’s about to be sick. 

“Woah, you have such pretty eyes! Can I call you Mr. Pretty Eyes?”

Aventurine stiffly nods. 

“Sure. Call me whatever you want, kid. What’s your name?”

“It’s Kakavasha. Nice to meet you!”

And that’s the final nail in the coffin confirming his suspicions. 

Kakavasha looks around nervously.

“I was searching for my family, but I got lost. This place is so much bigger than home… Mister, do you think you could help me find them?”

Aventurine shakily extends a trembling hand out.

“Of course. Lead the way. How about you hold onto my hand so you don’t get lost anymore?

Kakavasha latches onto it and begins wandering around, calling out for his parents and big sister. Every unanswered call feels like a punch to the gut but he has a faint flickering of hope that he’ll be able to see them.

“You really love your family, kid,” remarks Aventurine in an attempt to keep some conversation going. 

“Of course! I do!”

Kakavasha pauses in his steps and thinks for a bit, eyes wandering skyward and free hand resting on his chin.

“… Do you have anyone you love, Mr. Pretty Eyes?”

“Yes, I do. Their name is (Name).”

The boy’s eyes light up, sparkling in curiosity.

“Woah, really? What’re they like?”

A light chuckle escapes Aventurine’s lips as he crouches down to Kakavasha’s eye level and ruffles his hair. 

“They’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

“Wow, they must be a really amazing person for you to say that…”

“They are. They're incredible.”

I don’t deserve them.

He chuckles and stands back up again, hand reaching for Kakavasha’s. The little boy continues to lead the way, until he suddenly stops and turns. 

“Would you like to meet my family? They’ve been gone for so long I think they went back home. You can introduce (Name) to them as well!”

Panic wells up inside him. Seeing his family? In this state? After all he’s done? No, he can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. Not under these circumstances!

“Kid, I don’t think-”

“It’s ok if (Name) shows up late. They’re nice people and they’ll understand.”

“No, I-”

“Come on, let’s go! They’re already waiting for us!”

Aventurine feels himself being forcefully pulled under and he instinctively closes his eyes. A blast of hot, sandy air hits him, making him shield himself. When it settles down, he opens his eyes to a familiar sight. Sand stretches as far as the eye can see. There’s minimal vegetation and he can feel the sun beating down on his back already.

Sigonia-IV. He’s returned home. 

Kakavasha eagerly tugs on his sleeve. 

“This is my home! I know it’s not much, but everyone I know and love is here. I think you’ll like it too.”

Still holding onto Aventurine’s hand, Kakvasha begins running toward the horizon. Aventurine, meanwhile, feels numb all over. 

There’s no way this is happening. Is this some sort of cruel prank? What did that chicken-wing boy do this time? But if this is just a cruel prank…

He looks around at the yellow sand stretching as far as the eye can see and the mountains in the distance.

… Then it’s far too realistic. How is this happening? If I filter out the memories of the massacre, then everything is the same as I remembered it. 

“We’re almost there!” calls out Kakavasha. “Just a little longer now!”

Three familiar figures stand in front of a tent some distance away and Aventurine feels his heart seize up in his chest. He’s long forgotten their faces, but he instinctively recognizes them.

Mom. Dad. Big Sis. 

Kakavasha lets go of his hand and sprints toward his family. He leaps into the arms of his big sister, who spins him around giddily while his mother plants kisses over his face and his father holds his tiny hands. 

As he approaches, he realizes they have no faces. Where there are supposed to be eyes, a nose, and a mouth, there is nothing. A blank canvas with dents and ridges where the features are supposed to be greets him and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise up in warning. 

The only exception to this is his sister, with her grinning mouth and her long blonde hair billowing in the wind- the only feature he remembers clearly about her. She takes notice of him and tilts her head curiously to the side. 

“Kakavasha, did you br▇ng a f▇▇▇d of ▇urs?”

Her voice comes out scratchy and distorted with only a few syllables recognizable. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes why.

He can’t remember her voice anymore. Or the voices of his parents, for that matter. He’s forgotten what they look like, and now what they sound like. What’s been forgotten can’t be restored. 

“Yeah!” exclaims Kakavasha nestled safely into his sister’s arms now. “Everybody, meet Mr. Pretty Eyes!”

They greet him with friendly waves and scratchy sounds that he thinks are supposed to be words of greeting. He almost chokes on the guilt and regret building up in his throat

“▇▇ look just like ▇▇ Kakavasha over here! ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ his long-lost b▇▇▇▇r or something?” 

Aventurine forces out a laugh as the others join in. 

If only they knew…  

The sun is going down now, and the solar winds that blanket the planet grow harsher. They quickly usher him into the tent, telling him to make himself at home and inviting him to stay for dinner. There’s no way out as far as he can tell, so he obliges.

��It’s smaller than he remembers, he thinks as he ducks to avoid hitting his head. There’s a rudimentary kitchen setup in the back that Kakavasha’s mother is tending to as she begins preparing dinner. Kakavasha hops into his sister’s lap and shakes the sand out of his hair and gets it everywhere, to which she lightly scolds him with a tug on his cheek. 

He takes a seat on the fraying rug in the center and rubs a brightly-colored teal tassel between his fingers. The sand is already starting to seep into his clothes. He feels grains of it in his shoes and it pools onto his pristine white dress pants. Grains of it are nestled deep into the fur collar of his coat from the harsh solar winds outside that even vigorous shaking won’t dislodge.

Kakavasha’s sister smiles at him. It’s a bit unnerving, just seeing a smiling mouth with no other features.

“So, Mr. ▇▇▇ Eyes, w▇at 's your ▇▇▇ ? At least, I’m a▇▇▇ ming Mr. ▇▇▇ Eyes isn’t yo▇▇ r▇l name.”

“It’s Kaka-”

He swallows hard and kicks himself. He’s not Kakavasha. Not anymore.

“It’s… Aventurine.”

The very act of saying that name makes him feel like he’s betraying his family, stabbing them in the back. 

“A▇▇▇▇▇ , huh? What an in▇▇▇ing and pretty name!” remarks his sister. He feels the air rush out his lungs and almost coughs up a sardonic laugh from the sheer irony of it all. First his family, then his language, then his body, and now even his name? Is there anything left that he can truly call his from his culture? 

Thunder distantly rumbles overhead. Kakavasha and his sister peek their heads out curiously of the tent. She gasps excitedly and points to the darkening clouds overhead. 

“Hear that? ▇▇ sign ▇▇ your birthday is ▇▇▇ ▇!” she exclaims as she holds Kakavasha’s hands in hers.“▇▇▇ ▇▇ excited?”

… His birthday? 

Thunder rumbles overhead again and he hears the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the tent. 

His birthday. The Kakava Festival. 

His heart sinks into his stomach as his family chatters around him. They talk about birthday celebrations and what they’ll do that day, but it’s a muffled mess in his ears. Is it really almost his birthday already? Sigonia-IV followed many beliefs that were independent from the rest of the universe, namely the Aeon belief system, and that also extended to the calendar system. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure what day his birthday was in the Interastral Standard calendar system. He usually just flipped a coin and that was if he even bothered to celebrate, which he hadn’t done in many years. 

Aventurine does some quick estimating and realizes that yes, it’s almost his birthday. But how would he celebrate his birthday in this world, where all was good and he still remembered their faces and voices? 

Aventurine closes his eyes and thinks. His mother would be overjoyed to know that her beloved son finally has a lover now. She’d make him clean the tent from top to bottom in preparation for your arrival, even though the sand would find its way back inside again within a matter of a few hours. His parents would cook up a feast for your arrival while his sister would pester him to tell more stories about you- as if there were any left that he hadn’t. When the time would come and you’d nervously step through the tent flap with one hand holding his tightly and another clutching some gifts, his mother would rush forward and greet you with a kiss to the cheek, having already accepted you as family. His sister would steal you away from him to dote on you, much to his half-hearted chagrin. His father would tell corny jokes that you’d cringe at, and his mother would teach you recipes that had been passed down for generations, her warm, weathered hands resting atop yours and lovingly guiding your movements in the kitchen. 

The five of you, safe, warm, and alive under the sun. 

Hours after the rest of his family had gone to sleep, you’d lie side by side outside, watching the stars drift on by. Sigonia-IV is nothing like Pier Point. Free from light and industrial pollution, you’d have a stunning view of the cosmos every night. Twinkling stars shine overhead, so close you could practically pluck them out of the sky. Multicolored clouds of gas and stardust bathe the sky in their shifting hues as he tells you stories that have been passed down from generation to generation with the occasional shooting star passing by. You’d stay like that for hours on end, content to just listen and watch, until you were lulled to sleep by his voice. 

It would be cold, as all desert climates are at night, but it was nothing he couldn’t bear with your warmth nestled into his side. 

In the spring, or around now, he’d take you to celebrate the Kakava festival under the stars with a roaring bonfire. The festival itself would be a solemn and silent celebration with people murmuring prayers to the Mother Goddess and tossing sacrificial vessels into the fires, but the celebration of his birthday afterward would be loud and joyful. Bonfire sparks would rise up into the sky, carried by the hot solar winds and the rich sounds of his people’s songs. His mother would drape you in turquoise jewelry and gift you traditional clothes that she would’ve spent hours beforehand making by hand, every stitch a labor of love. He’d teach you to dance to the cheers of his family and the familiar tunes he’d hum under his breath. His movements would be fluid and graceful as he spins and twirls you around, while you stumble and flail along. He’d enjoy every second of it- even if you step on his feet the whole time. 

He would be kinder in this world, he thinks. He’d still be Kakavasha. Aventurine would be an unknown man to him. He’d wear his heart on his sleeve and his eyes would still have life to them. He’d never have to hide his left hand. 

And you’d be happier too. You wouldn’t have to sift through the layers to find the true self underneath the act he puts up. He wouldn’t be so hot and cold- practically love-bombing you one moment and then disappearing without a word for weeks the next. He wouldn’t be a dirty gambler, a two-faced businessman, a disinterested womanizer, cheating scum, an IPC mutt, a corporate bootlicker, a worthless Sigonian slut or who knows what else you’ve heard about him–

In this world, there are no Katicans. The Avigins and his family are still intact. His neck is unmarred and he speaks the Avigin dialect fluently, instead of the halting and choppy cadence that's even worse than that of a child’s. Syrupy, honeyed words spill from his mouth as he teaches you common words and phrases in his mother tongue. Have you eaten yet? How did you sleep? How was your day? I missed you. Mother. Sister. Father. Lover. Goddess. I made you something. I saw this today and thought of you. Be safe. Sweet dreams. Goodnight. I love you. He chuckles when you parrot them back to him haltingly, with your accent mixed in. The notebook you keep with various phrases, their meanings, and their phonetics grows every day. The most worn out page was the one crammed full of declarations of love that sound more akin to poetry as your mastery over the dialect grows. The ink is smeared from how often you’ve run your fingers over them, murmuring them under your breath until you’d committed them to memory. In your arms is the safest I’ll ever be. I’m lucky to call you my lover. I sleep better when I’m with you. I secretly name stars and constellations after you. I’ll kiss the weariness away from your face every night. I pray to Mama Fenge every night for your safety. I imagine her hands and embrace to be as warm as yours, and it reassures me somehow. I’ll miss your warm hands when that day finally comes. Goodnight, I love you.  

We’ll be together even in Kakava’s next aurora. 

Aventurine jolts forward with a start. His eyes search around frantically, instinctively searching for his family and you, only to be greeted with a familiar sight that isn’t his home. Bright flashing lights, the sound of cars honking and speeding by, muffled pop music playing in the distance, and the sugary scent of SoulGlad greet his senses instead of arid hot wind that howls in his ears and endless seas of sand. You and his family are nowhere to be seen either. 

Oh. Right.

The Dreamscape.

His clothes stick to his skin drenched in a cold sweat and his glasses are resting lopsidedly on his face. His whole body is shivering uncontrollably, as if he’s been plunged into ice-cold water without warning. The world is going white before his eyes and all he can hear is the loud thump of his pulse in his ears that suddenly drops. He thinks he’s about to pass out again. This is the end, he thinks. Aventurine leans against the side of a wall again, taking deep, heaving breaths to steady himself and quell the nausea swirling around in his stomach. 

When it subsides and he doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of death (sadly), he sits back up and forces out a laugh in place of a sob. First forcing a religious consecration onto him, then dangling his family in front of his face? How much crueler could the head of the Oak Family get? 

His heart sinks and an overwhelmingly bitter feeling engulfs him. It was just a dream all along. A dream within a dream, really. Was he really that desperate for something familiar again?

(And just like that, the mask known as Aventurine is back in place.)

(But he couldn’t even say goodbye or apologize to his family one last time, even if it wasn’t them.)

It was a pleasant dream, he’ll admit. How nice it would be to live in that world forever. But he knew it was a dream because it could never happen, as much as it pained him. 

Aventurine hears the voice of Kakavasha drifting along from further up ahead and knows he’s nearing the final leg of his plan. With what little time he has left, he takes pictures with the boy for posterity and buys the child all the treats his eyes rest on for more than a second. Aventurine delights in the way his eyes light up at the first taste before he eagerly digs in for more. 

It’s cathartic, in a way. 

Before stepping on stage, he looks up at the sky. It’s perpetually nighttime in Clock Studios Theme Park, but he knows the sun is shining elsewhere in the Dreamscape. Is the sun shining where you are back at home? He thinks it’s morning for you. You must still be asleep with the cat cakes curled into your sides, blissfully unaware of the news you’ll wake up to. 

Get onstage. Fear not. Never look back. 

One last thing to do.

He sends a final text to you.

Aventurine: I love you.

It stays on delivered when he puts his phone away. It’ll be the first thing you see when you wake up, and that’s more than enough for him. 

It’s time for the curtain call.

The feeling of Kakavasha’s tiny body in his arms won’t be enough to chase away the grief. Nothing ever will be. But this’ll be the closest he can get.

Aventurine hugs the boy close, squeezing as hard as he can without hurting him. He feels how he’s nothing more than skin and bone beneath the oversized rags. No child should have to be this thin, he thinks, and he’s even more glad he treated Kakavasha to his heart’s content earlier. 

This is the end. He gives Kakavasha one last squeeze to imprint this memory into his mind and gets up, waving goodbye over his shoulder all the while. 

He never looks back. 

In a shower of light, Kakavasha dissolves into the Nihility, and with him, Aventurine’s hopes for the ideal future- the one that you deserved. The Horizon of Existence is finally devoid of all color save for himself and the dark sun beckoning him forward toward the event horizon.

He takes a step forward, and then another. The sound of his footsteps against the surface and liquid splashing echo loudly in the empty space. 

The Nihility is beginning to slowly engulf him. He feels it encroaching at the edges of his mind, eating away at his thoughts one by one until nothing remains. A hollow, empty feeling settles into his heart that weighs him down. Aventurine looks down at his hands and realizes the color is beginning to seep from his vision until he, too, would become one with the Nihility. The point of no return beckons to him like a moth to a flame. Nothingness, emptiness, worthlessness. There’s nothing left for him to do. 

“Can you die today without any regrets?”

Aventurine finally has an answer to that question. The past is gone and he’s walking toward no future.

Yes. I finally can.

enjoyed this? my taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[generalsdiary]

Dr. Ratio w/ Kavetham parents (x Aventurine)

warnings: none

word count: 5.7k

a/n: after the intro (one or two paragraphs) it switches to Ratio’s pov dw (beginning with the first line of dialogue), also if you don’t like the Aventio ship- it is only mentioned after half of the writing. and in case you’re only here for Aventio- it begins halfway. tho I do recommend reading the full work for the best experience ^^

description: let's talk about Ratio's parents. I have been going on and leaving comments/hiding in hashtags here and there about how much I like the theory/fanon of Alhaitham and Kaveh being his parents (fluff, nostalgia)

now let us take into consideration that Teyvat does exist in the canon of Star Rail- and (if you've read/watched a few analysis) you might know that the planet on the loading screen is literally Teyvat- and now if you're questioning how is it separated from everything (read; not getting checked by the IPC) and similar- well.. it is locked off of any access. I'm truly not the right person to dwell into this, so do explore more about that if it has piqued your interest, and without further ado, these are my thoughts on our favorite canon couple in Genshin being Ratio's parents.

I can see Veritas coming back home (by some means) and his dads being just over the moon delighted to see him.

Kaveh would most likely ask him to sculpt something with him. Veritas, as it is portrayed, he sculpts mostly himself, and (in Kaveh’s voice lines he says sculpting is his hobby) Kaveh enjoys that as well. so, it makes perfect sense that Kaveh taught him that, just a little Veritas wobbling around and putting his hands into the grayish looking water, little hands shaping the sculpture- Kaveh giggling at the sight, gods Kaveh would look so beautiful in that setting, Alhaitham smiling fondly- he won’t touch the water or the statue- the texture ain’t right. so, when adult Veritas comes back home for a longer visit, of course Kaveh insists on his son sculpting something with him.

“how have you been, Veritas? it has been quiet without you rambling with yourself in the middle of the night about the problems of the world” Kaveh snickers and pours fresh ground coffee.

“I do hope you have been taking care of yourself, you shouldn’t let your job rule over your private life.” Alhaitham adds.

“I- I have been fine, and no my job isn’t suffocating me, dad.” He answers in that annoyed voice reminding his fathers of a teenager. “I never said suffocating.” Alhaitham quietly adds, his son revealing himself in his word choice. He doesn’t comment any further. The obvious is clear to all three men.

he goes to his room, fresh, clean as if he never left. his walls covered in sheets of paper with math equations, sketches of various buildings (even an attempt to sketch his father’s beautiful work of the palace of Alcazarzaray), quotes from those close to him in case memory ever betrayed him. the warm sunlight dripping into his room, the scent of spices, fresh coffee, herbal tea and warm cotton letting him know that he is home. nostalgia isn’t something he allows to rule over him, but in this moment, he is weak to it and indulges in the safety of his room. the rough texture of the sheets soothes him and all the puzzle pieces seem to fall in their place. he needed this. his dads, this vacation. he falls asleep with a small smile on his face that night, there’s perhaps no better place to be than home.

little kid Veritas was truly born into the right family with his intellect. perfect parents to take care of all of his “quirks”, and hunger for knowledge. and, Alhaitham and Kaveh are so proud of the man he grew up to be, “you know that love for math and numbers, is all you.” Alhaitham comments, not raising his gaze from the book in his hand, the early morning sun just barely grazing the room. Kaveh smiles and walks over to his partner, his lips leaving a soft kiss on the top of the younger man’s head, “he is equally you and me, Alhaitham.” both men smile for the next minute, Alhaitham’s free arm moving around Kaveh’s waist since he stood right next to where he sat. “except the hair, that he takes after his uncle.” Kaveh laughs melodically at that remark, “well, he crafted the hair genome-altering potion himself because we allowed him to ask Tighnari too many questions which he was all too happy to answer.” Alhaitham nods, “it fits him. the indigo. can’t even remember what it was before if I’m being honest.” Kaveh all but shrieks, turning his voice to a whisper to not wake their son, “that’s because he did it when he was 4.”

speaking of his ‘uncle’, Wanderer is someone Veritas was very fond of. or rather, is still very fond of. such a genius mind, a clever being with a puppet body, snarky, sarcastic- Veritas felt confused why he didn’t hang out even more often with his dads; they seemed like the perfect match of personalities and intellect. nonetheless, he did come over occasionally, and was always met with, something he now knows to cherish; the soft smile, the gentle voice and the cozy embrace of his uncle who likes tolerates children. and especially since he didn’t come over often, teenage Veritas would run away take a walk to go see him, he always looked young so that made him seem even more approachable to the young boy. he’d seek knowledge, and intelligent conversations- not that his fathers or his other uncles didn’t provide that. he simply needed someone outside of that roster. an outsider. well… half of an outsider, who can keep secrets. not that he’d have many secrets to share, Wanderer would gladly amuse the kid, happy with the respect the child gave him and intrigued by the questions he'd hear.

“alright kid, it is late, off you go.”

“it’s dark yes, you won’t see me off?”

“you can walk, can’t you? now go.” Wanderer zooms off into the shadows. Veritas developed confidence in his late night walks home and bravery, not knowing- until maybe in his adult life, that Wanderer always flew above him on his way home. making sure that he was safe. and every time, maybe out of respect, maybe out of a sense of duty, or perhaps… even… companionship? friendship? he’d slip a note under the door ‘the kid was with me, W’

“is uncle Wanderer still in Sumeru?” Veritas indulged between bites of pita pockets. he just did a workout session with Alhaitham, his dad is where he picked up the healthy habit of working out and staying active.

“he should be. I mean he didn’t move out to a different region if that’s what you mean” Kaveh answered with a nod in Alhaitham’s direction, to confirm or debunk what he said in case he had different information. Alhaitham shook his head, he didn’t know anything else, “he should be in Sumeru city.”

Veritas makes his way on the incline of the Divine Tree, last step, and, “ah well if it isn’t my favorite nephew?” the voice said sarcastically. a whoosh of wind and the short man with a large hat- obscuring anyone’s view, flew down.

Veritas smiled, “uncle. it has been very long. and the years have… treated you well” he chuckled, attempting to tease the older man.

Wanderer scoffed, “is that some poor attempt at a joke? perhaps, you should spend more time with the general on this vacation. brush up your…” vague gesture, “comedy.” he hovered and sat down on the stone wall.

“I doubt comedy is something I’m fit to pursue.”

they talked for hours that day. catching up and Veritas dumping, if at all possible, even more questions onto his uncle about life and existentialism. the sun started setting and Wanderer got up, ending their conversation as always before it got too late in the night. he gestured to Veritas to come closer, to which he bent lower- the height difference was painfully obvious, “you really grew so big.” Wanderer softly commented, Veritas could see the same kindness and endearment in his eyes that he saw as a child. Veritas always meant much more to Wanderer than he ever let on. to be called uncle, considered a family member, and not be asked to change himself. Wanderer appreciated Alhaitham and Kaveh, and his nephew is someone he’d die for. he pinched his cheek, “you take care of yourself, young man.” Wanderer smiled for a second and flew up out of sight. and, just like all those years ago, he flew above him out of sight, making sure he got safely home… after all, Veritas isn’t a vision carrier.

“puppets- puppets can’t cry, stop this” he’d mumble to himself as a few more teardrops fell on the parchment paper he pushed under the door.

‘the kid was with me’

second night he dreamed. Nahida smiled in this dream and waved “welcome home, Veritas”, once awake he sat up immediately out of breath.

stepping into the kitchen and there she sat.

“oh Veritas, it is so good to see you” she chirps, jumping off of her chair and walking over, he bends over to pick her up so she may properly hug him.

“auntie Nahida- I- I seem to have forgotten you knew the exact moment I laid my head on the pillow two nights ago that I got back home” Veritas would mumble, he didn’t realize that he would be this happy to see her.

“oh- Lesser lord Kusanali, you didn’t use the door- um- would you like some tea?”

“Lesser lord Kusanali, good morning, I’ll fetch the tea.” Alhaitham would add, making Kaveh sit down so he doesn’t stumble over something, his husband is always jittery when the archon comes to visit.

being close to Wanderer meant Nahida heard of him, and of course, she knew about Alhaitham’s and Kaveh’s son, hence upon visiting the kid often she became the auntie Nahida. Veritas grew up knowing the full truth, his dads aren’t the type to sugarcoat it or lie.

so in this embrace, Veritas realized how many questions he had for the tiny god in his arms. the god of wisdom. although, that might be impolite… he was silent for a bit.

Nahida giggled, “ask,” her legs swaying on the chair, “I know you must have so many more things you wish to know. especially with your age, doctor~” she giggled even more. and therefore it became a discussion, Veritas carefully forming his words, his dads listening to the conversation until they had to leave to lunch with friends. “come if you have time, your uncles Tighnari and Cyno will be there. they would be happy to see you.” Alhaitham adds as they leave the house.

on his way to the tavern he hears a woman yell his name, frozen in his step he turns and sees her running towards him. “Collei!” Veritas smiles, opening his arms and she jumps at him. he gives her a spin and tightly embraces her, “how have you been- you’re still amusingly short-“ he laughs, and she playfully punches him,

“is that how you greet your favorite cousin?”

“you mean my only cousin?”

“don’t get snarky with me- I got better at communication and will use sarcasm to my advantage!” Collei laughed happily as she answered. in his mind, she has always communicated well with him. he never saw any issues, only fondness for his older cousin.

they catch up on the street, his cousin is someone he cared about a lot in his youth. a peer who he didn’t shoo off, who didn’t dislike him, and who was and still is an amazing, accepting, intelligent person. one stayed and the other one moved away, yet their communication never failed, never changed, and the love always there for one another.

Cyno and Tighnari basically tackle him with love and affection. Cyno wraps him up in a blanket of dad jokes (not literal), while Veritas shares stories of foxians on the Xianzhou Luofu. it is a pleasant lunch filled with stories, and the tallest man at the table getting babied and treated as if he is fifteen years old again. somewhat bittersweet. Cyno insists they play a round of TCG, Veritas winning easily, “it is pure strategy, uncle Cyno” he tries to hide his smirk as he answers to a frowning general; Alhaitham adds quietly, “that’s my boy. well done.”

His uncle Cyno was the one to teach him Genius invocation TCG, during their trips to the desert they spent their evenings playing cards. “this is hardly fair, uncle. I keep losing” the small boy frowned.

“Veritas, when you are old enough, and more experienced you will, maybe, come close to winning.” Cyno answers, not showing mercy to the kid- he must learn the rules of the game properly, as he is teaching him survival in the desert. which, over the years of many trips, resulted in Veritas growing well acclimated to the weather conditions and scorching sun there, a good life skill to have.

on the other hand, he also grew accustomed to the moisture-heavy air and high heat of the rainforest. going on many camping trips with his uncle Tighnari. learning of different plants and creatures, gaining proficiency in biology before he even got to go to school. nights in the Gandharva Ville were also something he remembers fondly, his cousin, someone he holds in high regard, was always nice to him, pleasant, no matter his attitude and ‘adapting’ behavior. Collei never judged, they were, in a way, both patient with each other and led intellectually stimulating conversations for both parties. Veritas wouldn’t be the same man he is today if it weren’t for his peer.

Madam Faruzan is someone he didn’t expect to see in the house of Daena. he found her… interesting in his youth, but he moved past the interest when the well of knowledge for him dried up. on the other hand, Faruzan adored the little boy who was respectful and smart. they chatted for a few minutes and he quickly excused himself, otherwise, he’d have to put the bust on and the people of Sumeru have spent years not seeing such strange behavior and he knew it would attract even more attention. his younger dad’s voice would echo in his head, “it never matters if it makes others around you uncomfortable- you take care of yourself. if it helps you, if you feel better, then wear it.” and the scene of his dad placing the kid sized plaster head on his head played in Veritas’ mind. he feels incredibly lucky to have such amazing parents.

“how’s the traveler?”

“oh them? they found their sibling and I’m afraid I haven’t seen them in a bit. but they always come around, you know how they are. unpredictable~” Kaveh chuckles, and fondly recalls his friend with gold hair.

“or perhaps they changed bodies and personalities and embody someone you know outside of Teyvat.”

“daaad.” Veritas exhaled, “your attempts at humor get more annoying with years” he rolled his eyes at Alhaitham.

in a suggestive voice he joked a bit more, “maybe now they are less polite, maybe they even have- gray hair like I do.”

for a second the image of the Trailblazer flashed before his eyes but he dismissed it, “daad please can you contain yourself. I would appreciate it. those books on comedy did you no good,” his head turned to Kaveh, “dad why did you buy him that?”

“for pure shits and giggles, my dear boy.” Kaveh answered with a grin.

one can be as put together as they want and as old as they can be, but once one is home… we all turn back into children.

there was a knock on the door, Kaveh got up to open it, “good morning, yes?”

“ah hello, is doctor Ratio here- his device seems to not be working on Teyvat it seems so err…”

“Veritas it’s for you!” he said louder and turned back to face the man in front of him, “and you are?”

“dad-“ he gently pushed Kaveh aside, “you’re too flashy- get inside Aventurine!” he hissed in a hushed tone.

Veritas stands with his hand on his forehead, shaking his head gently. Kaveh seems amused with a smile on his face and sits down on the couch, next to the sofa armchair where Alhaitham made himself sit in no time. Kaveh can tell by the look in his husband’s eyes that he is entertained.

the young man, which their son addressed as a translucent quartz… Aventurine took a step towards Veritas. “hey- doc- I didn’t mean to- maybe I should’ve read some stuff about the planet before jumping-“

“maybe?” the tone of voice was obviously a displeased one, even raising in tone with a sharp glare. Veritas inhaled and exhaled. like a child doing a play he turned to face his parents, “dads, this is Kakavasha,” Aventurine did a small wave, “he is an occasional work partner of mine and I suppose that is why he came here.” he turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“well, yes, your phone- I mean device wasn’t working- actually nothing came up- I grew worried,” his voice turned into a whisper, “you know with this planet being so gatekept and outside of the IPC’s or the Aeons’ control so…”

“worried?” Veritas asked. Kaveh and Alhaitham were only missing popcorn, this has been the most entertaining thing they have watched in years. going all the way back to when they visited Fontaine and saw a wonderful drama performance.

“yes,” the blond man answered.

“let’s-“ Kaveh cleared his throat, “I’m Kaveh, Veritas’ father, this is my husband Alhaitham. why don’t you stay a bit- no need to rush off to… wherever you zapped from, hm?” he smiled.

“this, being the isolated area you claim, surely two travels in one day are not good, hm? stay the night. we will make room.” Alhaitham nodded.

and oh, Aventurine could read them in a second, street smarts this guy. he saw every single detail of the two men and how it translated into Veritas. “I’d hate to be a bother- but I’m clever enough to know you two would insist.” Aventurine smiles. Alhaitham and Kaveh hold back any laughs bubbling up their throats from giddiness. for them two, a pinning couple such as themselves, something as this short interaction between Aventurine and Veritas was as obvious as Cyno being the general Mahamatra. visible from the top of the Divine Tree. the only question was, where do they stand together?

“I. you’re right, but I don’t think it is necessary-“ Veritas begins only to be cut off by Kaveh.

“you’re forgetting yourself- didn’t you say he was flashy? you practically dragged him inside.”

Veritas cursed himself mentally, this was truly not what he had in plan. “fine. follow along, dear gambler.” he walked down the hallway and Aventurine followed quickly along.

Kaveh looked at Alhaitham with wide eyes and held back the urge to bite down on a pillow. “I will fucking scream, our son, OUR SON, got bitches?”  “was that real? that just happened, yes?”

Alhaitham was speechless in any verbal form, but his facial expression was priceless. “dear. Archons. thank you lesser lord Kusanali for blessing our boy.” Alhaitham hoped their son would never be lonely… and over the years it truly did turn him to even hope for the archons to show mercy upon him. “he also isn’t an idiot” Alhaitham continued.

“mhm, quite a beautifully well-mannered young man along with that,” Kaveh added.

inside his room, “why- this was truly unnecessary- my dads will now-“

“doc, calm down your parents are great- is this where I’ll stay?”

“this is my room!” he narrowed his eyes, Aventurine nodded and stayed quiet, “yes… this is where you’ll stay. don’t get… cocky about it”

“oh please doc, it isn’t the first time we share a bed.”

“change into something Sumeru appropriate if you wish to leave this house at any time during your stay.” Veritas ponders for a moment, “my clothes are too big and so are any of my dads- uncle Cyno is shorter than you so that’s a no, uncle Tighnari has a tail so that’s also a no, uncle Wanderer wears Inazuma-Sumeru styled clothes and also too small- I will have to buy.” he sighs after his short analysis.

“money is never the problem- credits are something I have a lot of and you know that- why?”

“they use mora here, not credits.”

Aventurine falls quiet, a world with no credits… a land of opportunity! he shall gain mora!

“no. don’t you gamble- the rules here are different-“ knock, knock.

“Veritas, will you go buy Kakavasha clothes or shall I sew something of some old pieces?” Kaveh asked against the closed door.

“I- dad can you go buy- we need to talk- I can’t at this moment.”

“yeah, I’ll go.” silence, he didn’t move away yet. “I’ll take your father with me.”

a distant muffled voice answered, “I don’t like shopping for clothes, Kaveh.” “Shush Alhaitham we are going.”

“I doubt your worry was justified- you knew you couldn’t contact me here”

“your parents seem nice. and now I’m here, so let us not dwell on would’ve, could’ve, should’ve hm?”

Veritas sighs. they exchange a few more words and he leaves for dinner with Collei previously arranged.

the sun is setting when he gets back, Aventurine got nicely acquainted with his parents and… well, Veritas is standing frozen at the entrance door. Aventurine is wearing white Sumeru style clothes, with pretty gold accents and splashes of purple and cyan. there has never been a lovelier man than him, your beauty leaves me speechless. He clears his throat, “now that you look appropriate, allow me to take you on a walk, yes?” to which the blond man obliges and they leave the house.

absentmindedly he talks of the architecture and how people live in Sumeru city. they arrive at a point that oversees the vast area towards Port Ormos and they stand there in silence for a few moments.

“the clothes are very comfortable, I hope I’m wearing them well,” Aventurine says with a big smile.

“you look…” beautiful, ravishing, heavenly, out of this world, take my hand in marriage, “…you wear them well, yes” Veritas cuts his thoughts off.

“c’mon doc, we are on your home planet, in your city. no one knows us here- at least not as the cornerstone of the Aeon of preservation and the member of the Intelligentsia guild. we can relax.”

Veritas rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath. “you’re right. … you look… beautiful. I… I bought you something- it was meant to be a gift when I got back but… here” he hands him a small blue velvet box. Veritas doubts Aventurine ever enjoys wearing jewelry, not with the way he quickly strips himself off of his rings, the watch, and necklace the moment he gets home. Aventurine opens the box and tilts his head in thought, “this is…?”

“a hairpiece. sort of like mine. a pin. I’m sure you understand.” Veritas nods to himself. Aventurine hands him the pin, a dark blue-golden piece displaying a certain mushroom. “put it on me.” Veritas’ eyes shift to the shorter man, if he wasn’t such a calm person his hands would shake in this moment. his fingers gently grip the pin and place it on the soft blond hair.

“good?”

“perfect. I chose well.” Veritas cannot hide how flustered he is at that moment despite his cold demeanor when his cheeks show a shade of pink.

“Doctor… Veritas. I would like to enjoy this vacation- with you. us, together, no one to say anything, may we… relax?” Aventurine says softly, his hand shyly coming to hold Veritas’ making him look at the man. “the view is beautiful from here, the sunset, colors, everything in warm colors, look.” he says, Aventurine shifts his gaze and Veritas keeps looking at him. he raises their joined hands and kisses his knuckles, “you mean everything to me” he whispers.

Aventurine smiles, returning his gaze to him. Veritas continues in a soft voice, “you wear the clothes well. it is… such a vision to see you in the clothing of my world. to see you standing next to me on the streets I grew up on, to see you meet my parents… also I have planned to stay for quite a while so expect to be here for at least a month or travel back to the ship.”

“I think I might stay for a few days. I like the sight of you here, you seem much more relaxed than you usually are, Doc. it’s like you feel safer here. and given how many dangerous specimens are on this planet I am surprised by that fact.” Aventurine gives his hand a small squeeze. “I’d like to get to know your family.” there’s an underlying sadness he sees in the shorter man’s eyes, perhaps the yearning for a safe family of his own.

“I have a big family, uncles, and aunts, a cousin… I’d be happy to introduce you.”

“friends? you didn’t say friends.”

“ah… those. family is what I have here. and you.” Veritas pushes the thoughts of his childhood away, friends… not something he had a big privilege of experiencing. He always preferred his uncles, aunts, truly the only real friend he ever had was Collei. perhaps the other kids weren’t even worth it.

the walk ends with them gazing at the sunset, holding hands.

at night they share his bed, his childhood bed. in the privacy of his home he feels safe enough to lean his face closer and gently kiss him. his lips pressing onto Aventurine’s with a mumble of good night. It feels surreal… his partner with him, in his arms, in his home. Aventurine that night dreams of a small white-haired person who welcomes him to Sumeru and says she is happy to meet him. in the morning when he shares the dream, between kisses Veritas lays along his jawline, the doctor stops to inform him that that was the Dendro archon, which results in a gasping Aventurine and a longer time in bed explaining the function of gods and deities in this world.

Veritas walks into the kitchen, following the scent of Sabz meat stew. his parents are in the study so he freely wraps his arms around Aventurine and lowers his head into the crook of his neck. “smells good.”

“mhm, your dad gave me the recipe- I thought I’d try it out. taste it!” Aventurine turns a bit in his arms, lips pursed blowing on the wooden spoon. it tastes good, melts on the tongue, his eyes widen and it is all the confirmation Aventurine needs. Veritas kisses his temple, “I’m so happy you’re here, Kakavasha.”

steps on the wooden floor knock him out of his bubble, his cheeks blush- being physical with his partner isn’t something he wants his parents to see. he puts the plaster head on and sits down. luckily in this household, it is perfectly normal to self-regulate in such a way. he can count on both hands just how many times he saw his dad without the noise-canceling pieces he uses. half of those were when he was sleeping, he remembers as a kid when he’d run to their bedroom, in tears from a nightmare- in mere seconds he’d have the devices on his head- be it Kaveh putting them on or he himself getting them on. after which they would both turn to comfort the small boy. any other time, was his dads quietly chatting on the sofa, and upon his arrival his younger dad would waste no time to put them on. two voices being too much. Alhaitham reassured him plenty of times so he doesn’t feel hurt by it, especially now, that he is old enough to understand; the only person he can tolerate, he enjoys listening fully to (not all the time tho) is Kaveh. to prove the case further, as a teenager he found out that his dad’s device has a mode which makes sure that his older dad’s voice always pushes through noise cancellation. true love at its finest. and what a hopeless romantic his dad is to do so and feel like that. the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. he does wear his bust much less when he is around Kakavasha.

and now not even the plaster head can hide it when he tilts his head on his hand and stares at the blond man. Alhaitham smirks, he sees through it oh so easily, “do you need any help, Kakavasha? if not, Kaveh and I are leaving to go to the Akademiya, update our retirement plans and so on. although, I’m sure my son can help out if the need arises.”

“I am doing fine so far, thank you sir”

“no need for sir, Alhaitham is fine.”

“I’d feel impolite to address my partner’s parents like that,” he speaks out loud before thinking. he stops stirring the food, when did he- how- when did he start feeling so safe that he stopped overthinking as much? Alhaitham nods with a barely noticeable smile and turns to leave the kitchen. “don’t burn the house down, you two.”

Veritas plants his face into his palms, covering the plaster head even more. Kakavasha turns around to face him when the doors close. “hah, um… sorry?”

Veritas gently takes his plaster head off with a small sigh, his cheeks are colored a light shade of pink, and eyes looking elsewhere, “it happens. I’d love to think my dad took your ‘partner’ in a business terminology, but… nobody in this household is that idiotic. and… I doubt we were any less than obvious, especially to a special case such as my parents.”

“special case?” Kakavasha hangs onto his words.

“some other time I’ll tell you about their situation- or perhaps you may ask them yourself. watch the food, dear.” Veritas gestures with his chin to the cooking pot.

Kakavasha does that indeed, chatting along with Alhaitham and Kaveh, the men more than happy to share their story- and get to know their son’s partner.

“I was told I might find you here,” he says in a soft voice, sitting next to the tall man.

Veritas raises his head from his notes. he is sitting at a large table in the house of Daena, surrounded by books, papers and a few pens. “who told you? I wasn’t avoiding you- my dad told me they added a few books and borrowed some from the Temple of silence, I couldn’t resist reading through it all.”

“your dads. am I bothering you, doc? I’m sure there are some books I can entertain myself with” Kakavasha gazes around.

“with no offense, doubtful. it is usually highly dry material, unworthy of your time and energy. I am willing to take a break, may I tempt you with a walk, dear?”

“yes, you may.” Kakavasha smiles at the flirty question.

saying goodbye is never easy. when being home is nice, pleasant- it makes it much harder. Aventurine left a week or so ago, and went back in the outer orbit of the planet. Veritas spent more time with his close family, having more shared meals and spending his early mornings in the Akademiya’s library, even going so far to visit the actual Temple of silence.

Kaveh’s arms are holding him tightly in an embrace, his voice slightly shaky, but he is trying not to let it show, “I will miss you so much, my dear boy. please stay safe, don’t get into unnecessary trouble, eat a lot, take care of yourself and you can always come home if it gets tiring. or just- one day come home to retire, maybe? and bring that boy with you, your father and I like him, he is welcome any time.”

Alhaitham’s strong arms hug him with a few pats on the back, in a monotone voice, which Veritas recognizes as warmth, he softly speaks, “I stand behind everything your dad already said. do take care of yourself, we will miss you a lot.”

“I don’t want to cry.” Veritas whispers, standing in front of his parents, Kaveh inhales sharply holding back his own tears, Alhaitham tightly holds his hand, his jaw clenched as he also tries not to grow too upset. “we shouldn’t cry,” the retired scribe says, “it isn’t good to say goodbye in tears, we will see each other again. we are immensely happy you came to see us, Veritas. I love you- we both love you, and safe travels.” he ends it with a nod, Kaveh nods as well.

“I love you too” Veritas whispers back, he jumps into both of them, hugging them one more time. he steps back, waves and, with the usage of technology unnatural to Teyvat, he is gone. Zapped away into the orbit.

“I miss him already.” Kaveh doesn’t cry as much as he thought he would when their son leaves.

“Veritas is out there doing the best he can for himself, and he isn’t alone. we both know how much it matters that he isn’t alone.” Alhaitham’s eyes appear sad despite his words. the men sit on the couch cuddled in each other’s arms. “you’re right… he isn’t alone.”

Ratio, back on the ship, eyes filled with tears threatening to drop meet the watercolor ones of his partner. “I- I… I miss them already, Kakavasha.” Aventurine walks over to hug him, his hand moving in circles on his back. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

after a few minutes, Aventurine quietly says, “we will visit them again. we can come over for my birthday? I… really enjoyed being surrounded by family. maybe you’d let me meet more of them this time, yes?”

Veritas smiles, tears dried up, he really has a way of bringing his mood up. “of course, we will visit for your birthday then.”

“I look forward to calling them my family like you do,” Aventurine adds with an all-too-familiar smile.

“is that-“ Ratio tilts his head, “is that some backward way of proposing?”

Aventurine chuckles, shaking his hands, “nope. not yet. there’s time for us to do… that”

Ratio smirks, with an exhale he leans his head on the shorter man’s shoulder, “thank you… for coming along. I’m glad you met them.”

Aventurine silently smiles and kisses his cheek. perhaps the next time they come around they will make certain vows.

[owlespresso]

the red fruit which ripens

alpha!blade/beta!reader you are a beta courier. one of your clients is getting too close. tags: blackmail, mind games, nonconsensual touching, blade and luocha are just weirdos idk pt 2 of my part in @lorelune's a/b/o collab. the first part can be read here.

You have never known peace. You doubt any emanator ever has. The Mother of Harmony, of peace, bestowed upon you a fraction of her immortal grace. She cored herself, tore out a seed—jewel like and glistening, and beckoned you to feast. The taste went down so smooth and sweet.

That was the first and last time you held your blessing in awe. Xipe sentenced you, that day, to never know the peace she covets. You could catch glimpses of it, inhale the scent of it deep, but it would fade like morning mist, chased away by the winds of chaos and whatever awful business you were to tend to next.

When you strayed from The Family, tore yourself free of their clutches and hid where their millions of bulging eyes could not find you; you believed it possible to know peace. Perhaps not immediately. There was so much to take care of during your first days on the Luofu, paperwork and apartment hunting. It was all jarringly normal. You were mystified by the mundanity, delighted by it even. The world suddenly closed in for the better. There were no enemy factions to worry about corralling, no petty politics, no attempts to usurp you or take your life.

The world became the Luofu. It became your apartment. It became your favorite food stalls and your neighbors and the little birds fluttering about in the trees.

But it was not peace. Soon, you came to realize that even the average Luofu citizen did not know the concept as intimate as you hoped. They live in fear of Mara, of the Abundance, which they are so intimately intertwined with. Every pain is a life threatening risk, a potential trigger to a deadly malady. Outside of the Abundance, so many run themselves ragged, weighted by long work hours and petty squabbles with loved ones. The kindly folk by the docks find themselves cornered by the IPC.

No mortal knows peace, you have come to realize. Perfect tranquility is a ripe and red lie, birthed gold and glistening from the Goddess’s many lips, spread carelessly and listlessly across the universe. Unattainable by the emanator’s closest to her.

You believed once, and it hurt you. Not again. You will heed no honeyed words. You can only believe in what is cold, concrete, and solid.

—

“I feel like—” you begin, pushing through the rusted metal paneling of the dilapidated fence. “—you could have gotten here by yourself.” You usually don’t talk this much, but Blade’s habitual silence combined with your burgeoning irritation leaves you uncharacteristically eager to complain aloud.

The abandoned warehouse looms an eerie, empty monument of crumbling sheet metal and shattered glass. Long columns of broken machinery are gutted in pieces across the concrete yard. You make note to return later, just to make sure you’re not leaving valuable goods out to waste.

“I have never been here before. Kafka thought it wise to come with a guide.” 

“And what do you think?” you pause, shoulder buried in the outside paneling of the building itself.

“What I think… does not matter.” Blade says cooly. “A blade is meant to be wielded. It does not choose who it cuts down or where it goes.”

“Hm,” you don’t have much to say to that. You shouldn’t have opened your yap in the first place. The less you know about the bizarre relations of the Stellaron Hunters, the better. You squeeze into the building through the gap. Blade hardly two paces behind. The metal groans and squeaks as he forces his way in. It feels like the loudest sound you’ve ever fucking heard, an offensive and high pitched screech that probably rings through the yard and neighboring alleyways.

“At least try to be a little quieter,” you grumble, squinting into the dark. The main room is made a maze by haphazardly laid out storage containers, many cracked open and already emptied. Wires hang from the ceiling, which has become an amalgamation of mechanical matter and rotting parts. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Black grunts his assent.

“Well. You’re here, safe and sound.” you waste no time, doubling back towards the Blade-shaped hole in the wall. Did he just walk straight through!? What are they feeding this guy? “So I—”

The sound of thundering footsteps and approaching shouts freezes you mid-step. Momentary panic jars you still. The Cloud Knights? Here? Now?

Your pulse thrums in your ears as you turn tail, ready to haul ass in the opposite direction, only to collide face-first with Blade’s firm chest. He jostles you to the side with his shoulder, ignoring your grunt of complaint. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade. Your stomach jumps into your throat.

“Where are you going!?” you hiss.

“To take care of the vermin,” Blade replies drolly, looking down his nose at you. His lips twitch into the beginnings of a puzzled frown.

“Absolutely not!” you say, and his frown pulls deeper. “Where there’s ten, there’s bound to be twenty waiting to back them up.”

It is unlike you to be so bold, but you seize him by the wrist, pulling him further into the jagged steel labyrinth. He allows himself to be led, surprisingly docile as you round corners and scuttle down corridors. Pale moonlight covers the room in a silvery sheen, providing just enough light for you to make out a door embedded into the outermost wall. Footsteps echo around you, calling voices made cacophonous by the echo. Blade’s grip on your hand tightens, likely annoyed and sorely tempted to begin the slaughter, but you yank open the door and jam yourself inside what seems to be a cramped server room.

A few circuit towers stand side-by-side, dark and dusty with disuse. Blade shuts the door behind you, opening his mouth to speak, but you’re already wedging yourself into the lone aisle between the wall and the towers, pulling him behind you.

A few moments later sees you crammed in the narrow space. The back wall and server towers rise on either side of you, caging you up against your troublesome accomplice. One of Blade’s thighs presses tight to your own. Warm and firm. The proximity betrays what you’ve expected since your first meeting. Blade is an alpha. Only now, brought so obscenely close, are you fully able to realize that. It’s a footnote in comparison to your agitation, which swims and simmers just beneath the surface of your skin.

“How long were they following us for?” you grumble aloud. “Tell Kafka she owes an extra 20% when you see her, and that I’m not doing this ever again.”

Blade sighs out of his nose. You can’t see his face well enough to make out his expression.

“You’re wearing a mask. Your identity is safe.” he says.

“The threat of being arrested still remains,” you grumble, listening to the clamorous noise outside. Trained troops rush back and forth, kicking up dust and old grease. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying, beyond a few paltry words, but no one has yet knocked on the door. Surely a good sign.

Blade squeezes your hand, and subsequently reminds you that you are holding it.

“That won’t happen. Destiny’s Slave would not risk your safety over something so simple. No harm will come to you, tonight.”

Well, isn’t that comforting. You wrest your hand away with a scowl, and clamp down on the pressing urge to let him know what you really think about his boss. He stares down at the place where your hands were once joined.

The next half-hour passes in relative silence. His eyes are all that is visible in the empty dark of the room, candlewick embers extinguished when he shuts them and leans back against the wall.

Eventually, the outside noise quiets. No more thudding boots or searching shouts, the warehouse silent as it had been when you arrived. Shimmying out from the pitch dark crevice is much more awkward without the frantic adrenaline, but you manage it, emerging in a new layer of dust.

“Alright. I’m heading out. Be careful.”

“They won’t return anytime soon,” Blade remains inside, arms crossed and impassive. Your frown deepens. You clamber through a hole in the wall. No Knights have remained behind. You feared a few would have stayed just in case, but none leap out from behind the rubble. Which means that the horrible feeling prickling up the back of your neck is just Blade’s cold, empty gaze trained on your retreating form.

Strange beast, you think to yourself, scuttling into the nearest alleyway.

—

One of your favorite things about Luocha’s home is that he is hardly ever in it. The first time you met him after helping him with his pre-heat, he pressed a silver house key into your palms, before turning and leaving. Not even allowing you to splutter a single, indignant protest. Back then, you mentally swore that you wouldn’t use it.

Now, you use it almost everyday. His neighborhood, smack dab in the middle of the Luofu, intersects with several of your regular routes. It’s just too easy so slide in between deliveries for a quick rest. It helps that he’s hardly ever home, leaving you to pilfer snacks from his fridge and take brief naps on the couch. You haven’t been bold enough to stay overnight. You’ve become far, far too intimate with the man.

No more, you decide, and stay firm to that decision even when he beseeches your company not a week later. It’s rude, but you can’t risk getting anymore attached than you already are. He’s become a bothersome burr stuck to your side, a looming presence in your thoughts even when he’s far across the stars, doing Xipe knows what.

There’s a knock at the door. You startle, because this has never happened before. You remain stock still on the couch. If you remain still, surely whoever is out there will get the message and bugger off. Another knock. You should have known that any solicitor determined to walk through the forest of a front yard would be too stubborn to give up after only seven knocks.

At the eleventh, you get up and stomp to the door. It’s mostly to preserve your own sanity. 

You throw open the door, prepared to give the nosy bastard on the other side an earful. 

It’s Blade. Blade is stood there. He blots out the afternoon sun, leaving you in the shadow he casts. It’s like seeing your clothes in the fridge. You blink several times.

“Ah. It’s you.”

“It is,” He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in his left hand. 

“What… why are you here?” 

“Kafka’s orders. She wanted you to have these,” he hands you the bouquet. You receive it. Fresh petunias and sprigs of rosemary curl next to daisies and tulips. It’s a nonsensical thing. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Nothing particularly artful about the presentation besides the pretty colors. 

“I see… Is this your home?” He looks like he already knows the answer.

You decide not to humor him. You tuck the bouquet underneath your arm and lean up against the doorframe. “What’s it to you?” 

He blinks, looks confused, and then responds after a moment of silent thought. “I… there is someone else who lives here. I remember it clearly, now.”

“You two know each other, huh? What a coincidence. But… how did you know where I was?”

“I asked the woman next door. She directed me here. I’ve been searching for you since the early morning.” 

“All morning?” you tut, somewhat sympathetic. “That’s a lot of walking.”

“It is nothing compared to other pains I have endured.” Blade says, solemnly. “And I have traveled far greater distances on foot. You shouldn’t worry.”

“...Well,” you stare down at the bouquet for a moment. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t give you anything for the effort. You know that big, red maple by the pond? Go sit there. I’ll get you something to drink.”

Two minutes later sees you outside, cradling two crystalline glasses filled with lemonade. You didn’t get him the fancy stuff—the strawberry-kiwi-whatever fruit stuff that you hand mixed. But it’s something.

He’s hunched beneath the red canopy. There’s a dark, inky type of handsomeness he possesses. Dark hair tumbles down his back, shaggy bangs frame that wolfish face. He looks dour almost all the time. Like the frown lines and cold apathy have permanently creased it. He’s hunched beneath the shade. Like it sits on his shoulders as a physical weight. He looks up at you as you settle next to him, accepts his glass without fuss or thanks. Which is just fine, with you. You probably shouldn’t be doing this, anyways. He’s an intergalactic criminal. The less time you spend together, the better.

But at the same time… you can’t help but be curious. Curious about the mara which buzzes underneath his skin, yet somehow never breaches it. Curious about what manner of creature he must be to withstand the final stages of Yaoshi’s curse. Curious if there’s any real, lingering emotion beyond the stoicism he treats… well, everything with. 

The two of you sit in silence and sip. You don’t feel any need for artificial conversation. It’s easy to sit down and simply exist next to him. No impulsive need for niceties. 

“This house isn’t yours,” he says.

“No. The owner is a client of mine. He lets me stop by here, in between deliveries. It’s convenient.”

A few beats of silence. “How well do you know the man that lives here?”

“As well as I know any other client,” he looks at you expectantly, as though waiting for you to finish that statement. “Which isn’t very well. He’s not here most of the time.”

“You should remain cautious while in his presence,” he says, and you nearly raise a brow at the unsolicited advice. He levels you with his dull, candlewick gaze, as impassive as ever. A leaf flutters from the lowest branches onto his head. “That man draws his power from the source of the mara. He wields it under the guise of a blessing, and yet…” Blade frowns, almost a grimace, and doesn’t say anything else. 

“I know.”

“Yet you take shelter under his roof and exist willingly in his space.” Blade stares at you. There’s a faint bristling in the air. A shuddering of the atmosphere that emerges from him. Thorny tendrils of bitter gold crackle beneath his pale skin. You don’t know exactly what aggrieves him so, but you get the feeling that you should say something to appease him, quickly.

“Well. I don’t know any other rich diplomats willing to offer me a free, mostly empty house to take a break in for… around twenty minutes a day,” you shrug. “It’s convenient.”

That seems to settle him.

“Do you… not like him? The merchant?” Does he even know Luocha’s name? What kind of relationship do these two weirdos have?

“In the strange purgatory of my existence, he acts as both poison and cure.” Blade informs you, as if it tells you really anything. As if sensing your befuddlement, he deflates a little, nose scrunching. He looks like a dour cat, stuck out in the rain. “He wants something from me. I can’t tell what it is. His unseemly fascination means it can be nothing good.” His attempt at elaboration gives you somewhat of a clearer picture, but it’s still some insanity that you’ll have to unpack later.

“I see. I’ll make sure to remember that,” you’re not sure if it’s possible to forget a conversation with Blade. Especially one that lasts more than a few moments. What prompted this? Genuine concern for your well-being? You have a hard time believing that. There are many things that are better off left unsaid, in your experience, so you don’t ask. 

The rest of the visit passes in relative quiet. Blade finishes his lemonade.

You reach over. His gaze snaps to you immediately, a beaten dog evaluating a potential threat.

“You have something in your hair,” you inform him helpfully, plucking the leaf from his sable locks. You curl the stem around your fingers. 

He doesn’t say anything after that. The two of you stand. He murmurs a brief farewell, and is off through the yard, slipping through the ferns to become one with the cast shadows. You’re not sure how long you remain after he leaves. The pond water ripples with each gentle breeze. Glimmering koi bob to the surface, in search of mid-afternoon snacks. When they find none, they dive beneath, water droplets flickering off their lashing tail fins.

Well, you think after another moment, at least you learned something.

Now, it is high time that you tend to the bouquet so generously sent your way. You dump the glasses in the sink, halfheartedly vowing to deal with them later, before taking a closer look at the arrangement of flowers. As you expected, it’s more than a paltry, sentimental gift. Tucked into the plastic wrapping is a small card.

Bladie said you got in quite the mess, the other day. You have my deepest gratitude for handling it so cleanly. He’s not that good at talking things out. He seems to like you, though! I wonder what makes you so special?

P.S. Next Tuesday, please escort Bladie to the address written on the back of this note. Please? Do it for me. :)

—

You hate working with criminals. Criminals other than yourself.

Though, you don’t fancy yourself much a criminal.  Deliveries are an entirely different beast, simple points of contact which last at most for five minutes. Escorting a known, intergalactic criminal through multiple layers of the Luofu is completely different—something you would never do if anyone besides Kafka asked. You’ll dance to her tune, run her errands if it keeps you off her shitlist. But is there even a point if keeping off of hers just puts you onto someone else’s?

You’ll have some fierce thinking to do after you shake off the six Cloud Knights currently on your tail. You dive between market stalls. You leap over a counter, sending an array of fruits and vegetables tumbling onto the pavement. You ignore the enraged shout of the peddler behind you, pulse thundering in your ears as you weave between the passerby, narrowly avoiding a stack of crates.

The air stings at the corners of your eyes. The marketplace blends together to the point of featurelessness. You don’t know who you pass or what else you know over, too focused on what’s ahead to care about the wreckage left behind. At the very least, it may hamper the Knights as they shout and stomp and rush after you—and Blade, whose fault all this is.

You slide around a corner and into a red-bricked alleyway, lanterns strung between the two rooftops, gold and glittering against that fake, blue sky.

“Dead end.” Blade grunts. You hear the telltale click of his sword being unsheathed.

“No! Just follow me!” you snap, seizing his wrist and pulling him forward, all the way to the end. As you trudge forward, you tap a sequence into the walls on either side. The worn clay surfaces are coarse under your fingertips. None move after you touch them, but you feel a subtle shift in the energy as it rushes down to the focal point. The pattern ends at the back of the alley. You tap a chipped, ragged brick embedded into the dead-end wall. The slabs unfold, layer-by-layer, to form an opening.

You pull him through.

It folds shut behind you, the quiet sound of grinding stone following you through the passage. The hollering and thudding of the pursuit have been silenced. Their chaos of the market sealed away behind the otherwise impenetrable seal. You doubt the low-ranking footmen who chased you will know the way.

Yellow-green vines crawl up the pulsing walls. Luminous particles bob and float in the air like fireflies. The place is silent, leaving you with only the sound of your own panting and Blade—Blade’s rasping, spluttering wheezes.

You stop, right where you are, because you have never heard him make such a sound before. Even after a chase, or a fight. 

The passage opens to a wider tunnel up ahead. You drop Blade’s hand, and turn to look at him. The adrenaline is fading, now leaving room for fresh, common sense. 

Blades hunches up against the wall. The air enters and leaves his lungs in winded, rushed wheezes. His eyes are wide and unseeing. Those candlewick irises dart from the floor, to the place where your hands had been joined, and finally, then, to you. 

A scent, like firewood charred too long, blistering into crumbled charcoal, blooms in and clouds the thin space. It’s like nothing you’ve ever smelled before, the vicious pheromones of an alpha at the very end of their tether. Something more, too, something earthen and ancient and charged. A flavor which has graced your palate only once or twice before.

Encroaching mara. You don’t know what he’s like, when his symptoms flare. You’re not eager to find out. The capricious nature of his mara has not once posed a threat to you. But his composure is slipping, his hands curling like claws and flexing. Like he’s getting a feel for his own body. Like the joints are sore and need stretching.

“Blade,” you stumble forward, pressing your palm to the cold, pale pane of his cheek. “Blade, look at me.”

His shaky irises hover awkwardly over your shoulder, before at last meeting your gaze. 

“It approaches,” he rasps, looking as haunted as you have ever seen him.

“Blade, do not let the mara take you.” you take in a deep, steadying breath. The violent pulsing in your ears returns in full force, the unhinged mass of his disease gnawing at your physical form.

Bracing yourself, you reach within. You touch the very bottom of your long neglected wellspring. Harmonic Essence leaps to the surface, warm and loving and so eager to be put to use. It feels like an old coat slipped around your shoulders, a familiarity you wouldn’t dare indulge in under ordinary circumstances. It is a power long wasted on you, but useful this very once. It pulses from underneath your fingertips, washes underneath his pallid skin.

The acrid taste of his mara brashes against the tip of your tongue for a single, fleeting moment. It then skitters backwards. Retreats into the dark, churning void of what you assume to be his subconsciousness. It’s a temporary balancing of the scales, but his wild pulse settles.

You sigh, shoulder slumping in relief. The tension winds out of your body, hand dropping back to your side.

He still looms above you, jet black hair curtaining you in. When did he get so close? Or had it been you in your haste to soothe him? He runs hot as a hearth, the warmth which radiates from him thick enough to feel. This close, you can see his every breath, soft mounds of his chest straining the fastenings which hold his shirt together. Slender stripes of pale skin peek through his chest wrappings. You swallow and look away, up at the strong column of his neck.

“Are you with me?” you murmur. You don’t dare move, lest your retreat trigger the chase instinct which some alphas are known to possess. You don’t like making assumptions. You feel like Blade would be among that number anyways.

“Yes,” Blade’s voice is sandpaper rough. He moves before you do, shouldering past you into the wider tunnel. “You make use of these often, I take it.”

As though nothing had ever happened. Something bitter churns in your gut, but you don’t bring it up. There’s no reason to. He probably wants to distance himself from this episode as quickly as possible. You don’t blame him. The mara must be a humiliating affliction to live and cope with. 

“It’s the fastest way to get around,” you break into a brisk walk, overtaking him. You’re the one who knows your way around, here.

“The mara would rend asunder the minds of anyone not wearing the correct protective gear,” Blade observes. There’s nothing pointed in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes your skin crawl. Its keen focus is that of an apex predator’s, a beast somehow sated enough to keep his teeth from your throat. How long will that last? Fifteen minutes? An hour? The air here swelters with abundance. His mara must sup on it like a starved prisoner, far stronger and fuller than it could ever be on the surface. 

He could easily match your pace, but he chooses to walk behind you.

“I could say the same for you.”

“I am an abomination of Yaoshi. The abundance has already taken hold of me.” Blade says, grimacing. You toy with the fraying edge of your sleeve between your forefinger and thumb. “All the saturation here does is spur on the symptoms.”

You make a face. He must sense your unease.

“I should be able to resist the pull until we surface. Provided we do not linger overlong.” Blade replies. It does remarkably little to reassure you. 

A predator stalks at your back, one whose sanity may pop like an overfilled balloon at really any moment. Against your better sense, you feel anxiety lash at the bottom of your stomach, guts churning with that primal fear.

“Reassuring.” you bite out thoughtlessly. 

“It would be in your best interest to focus on finding a way out, rather than back-talking me.” Blade says, and you swallow. 

“Back-talking? I think my frustration is quite justified. You’re the reason we’re in this mess, after all.” you pointedly remind him. The words roll bitter off your tongue. Prickling discomfort coalesces with the saturation of abundance in the air, becoming a consistent buzz against the back of your skull.

Blade makes a ragged little noise, wedged between a wheeze and a laugh.

“Another do I make pay the price. I was not always like this. deathless beast borne of blind ambition and hubris…” he trails off. “I was once a man. Death walked with me as it walked with every other. It was never meant to—to become—”

A distorted warble slowly creeps into his voice. Shit, you just shouldn’t have said anything. The hovering energy coalesces, thin whispers congealing into thick, mist-like mass around him. It’s drawn to him. 

“What’s your favorite food?” you turn on your heel and ask, crossing your arms. He looks down at you, brows furrowing as he roots around for an answer. “You haven’t thought about it, have you?” Do the mara-struck even have to eat? Blade is a particularly unique case among them, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he even remembers to eat. He is a blade, according to his own words. And a blade doesn’t need to eat. How desolate an existence he must have lived. Must still be living if his own preferences evade him.

“Well. Try to find an answer while I get us out of here.” you command. He’s quiet for the remainder of the trek. You emerge topside and immediately feel several pounds lighter. The air is fresh and sweet, the skies blue and open. You’re two blocks from your apartment in a dark, neglected alleyway. 

“You can find your way back from here,” you sigh, chancing a glance at your companion as you stretch your arms above your head. “Right?”

He’s still quiet. You don’t sense the acrid tang of the illness. He looks thoughtful. You wish he would just give you an answer already. You’re not eager to be chanced upon again by a patrol, or by any other witnesses for that matter. 

“Your question. I don’t have an answer.” Blade says. He sounds almost regretful. 

Over your few interactions, you’ve come to realize that not much bothers him. Very little manages to budge that glacial mien. His demeanor, as you have come to understand, either sits as stoney neutrality or maniacal, giddy rage. The shades between are so very visited.

“It’s no big deal. You can just tell me next time, if you want.” If he even remembers. The idea of turning your back to him still riddles you with unease, but you do it anyway. Your steps are slow and measured. He stares you down until you disappear around the corner, meld into the crowds like just another thread in a blanket.

—

The sky above hangs a pale grey. It’s the threat of a light drizzle rather than a raging storm. You slip through the abundant foliage of Luocha’s front yard, unable but to notice that the shrubs and vibrant blooms have somehow grown in size since your last visit. The greens are hearty, fresh dewdrops glimmering off grass and unfurled leaves.

It’s not difficult to spot him. He’s lounged beneath the sole scarlet maple of the yard. He’s a spot of red himself, swathed in a richly-colored, likely richly-made, robe of it. The fabric pools on the lawn chair he lounges atop of. His eyes are shut, blonde lashes fanning against his perfect cheeks. Those eyes open as you skirt along the jagged stone edge of the pond, manilla envelope clutched in your left hand. He smiles, but does not lift his head. Sumptuous locks of golden blonde fan out behind his head like a halo. The very picture of serenity. 

“Well, well. To what do I owe this visit?” he tilts his head, smiling like a contented cat. You huff, and avoid looking below his neck, where the plush robe parts to reveal the pale soft of his chest. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but any sliver of intimacy you may have granted him has long passed. The moment you look down, he’ll notice and impose upon you another outlandish favor.

“Don’t get excited.” You hand him the package, and begin to pull back, but he’s faster. He darts for you like a viper. Long fingers curl around your wrist to hold you in place. The look in his eyes is beseeching. He gently deposits the envelope on the side table next to his seat. He doesn’t look away from you for even a moment. 

“Always so busy… doesn’t it exhaust you?” he murmurs, a sympathetic coo. He’s putting just enough strain on your arm to make standing uncomfortable, in hopes that you’ll sit down beside him. 

“No. I’m used to it. I like being busy,” you bear the ache in your arm with unyielding ease. It is so small and insignificant in comparison to every other you have endured.

“Do you… like being busy, or is it that you’ve never known anything else?” Luocha tilts his head to the side, smiling. Your skin prickles. You resist the urge to swallow. 

“You know what they say about assumptions.”

“Which is why I’m glad I’m not making one. You go to awfully desperate lengths to not be known, Courier.”

The corners of your lips twitch downwards, and his eyes gleam. “Don’t be coy with me. Did you talk to them?” You ask. The question has lingered on your mind for weeks, leaving you restless and more unkind than usual. The persistent threat of him is always at the back of your mind, represented in the throbbing between your temples, in the harshness of your voice as you snap at someone who might not deserve it. There’s no sense in beating around the bush, anymore. Not if you want to preserve your sanity.

“How very vague, for someone who just accused me of being coy. Be at ease, I haven’t had any contact with The Family. Merely some… particularly useful informants who have heard a thing or two. Hunches based on speculation that you’ve proven by being cagey.” Luocha assures you.

“...So, what do you want from me?”

“Merely conversation. I do find our interactions so compelling, however short they may be.”

“Being blackmailed doesn’t put me in the mood for conversation. There’s not much for us to talk about.”

“I beg to differ. I know so very little about you, despite all we’ve shared. I’m curious—what set you on the path of Harmony?” 

“...” You look away, internally evaluating the pros and cons of going along with his little game. “Peace. She promised us peace. Because that’s what Harmony was supposed to be.” His eyes soften. The indignation sizzling inside of you sparks into a raw flame (he has no right to look at you like that), but you smother it. 

“Did it live up to your expectations?” he asks. His thumb rubs circles against the hollow of your wrist. His gaze sweeps from your face, down your arm, to where he’s still got you. He’s waiting for you to be vulnerable, you just know it. A shark that smells blood in the water, circling and searching for tender flesh to lay its rows of teeth into. How does he imagine it will taste? Soft and meaty, melting underneath teeth and tongue? Layers of skin peeled back and pried open, made thin by older slices?

“It didn’t work out.” you reply. sagacious enough to play along only minimally. When you elaborate no further, he releases you with a smile.

“How interesting,” he hums. He reclines further, eyes fluttering shut. You could pounce on him so easily, like this. You could fix your teeth into his jugular and make it so he never threatens you again. The blood would be so warm in your mouth. His skin would be so sweet.

Don’t be gross. You grimace.

He drums his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

The fluttering of wings erupts in the canopy above you, a flock of songbirds taking an afternoon flight. He cracks open his eyes, then. He tracks some sort of movement (you aren’t looking up), idle, like you aren’t even there. He tilts his head to the side, the slender column of his neck completely exposed. The robe slips off of his shoulders, curvature of his collarbones and soft expanse of his chest open for your viewing pleasure. You’re annoyed.

 “I’ve held you long enough,” he sighs. “Thank you for sharing. Though, I do hope we can manage a longer conversation next time.”

“We’ll see,” you just barely keep a sigh out of your voice as you turn to leave, speed-walking up the grassy slope.

—

“That old man’s damn cat has been coming into the yard and bothering all the birds,” you grumble, squinting into the aforementioned patch of forest. 

Blade makes a noncommittal noise, indicating that he’s heard you.

“It pisses me off.”

“You care about the birds in someone else’s yard.” Blade observes. You frown deeper.

“It’s annoying. Cats are an invasive species, here. They slaughter all of the native wildlife—and sometimes they don’t even eat what they kill,” you sigh, tampering down your rising agitation. If you’ve learned one thing in your short and storied life, it’s that being impassioned isn’t good for you. 

“So, how would you suggest the problem be solved? If the owner insists on letting it out…”

“I don’t really live here, so it’s not like I have any right to get involved,” you shrug, “It’s just… if you’re gonna be that irresponsible with an animal, you don’t deserve to have it. You know?”

Blade makes another noise. Closer to a hum, this time. You don’t know if he knows or not. But you do know that he’s listening. You stare into the yard, and in your periphery you can see him staring at you.

—

You see Blade more in the coming days. Despite your best attempts, a routine slips into being, like weeds through cracks in the cement. Silver Wolf doesn’t show up to accept her own packages nearly as much, anymore. It’s almost always Blade. You see him so often that you question if he even has a job anymore.

He glowers. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He says, low voice almost lost amongst the bustle of the crowd. The markets are especially full today. Nestled in the crook of your elbow is a plastic shopping basket, loaded with some bread, some spices, and some vegetables. The stall you’re at rests beneath a red tarp, casts warm shadows onto his pale, bone-weary skin. “There are currently no tasks which command my presence at the moment.”

“Well. It’s good to have time off, but you don’t need to follow me around.”

“...” he doesn’t reply, but he does follow you all the way up to the counter. You can’t tell if he doesn’t understand the nuance, or if he’s just being bizarre and stubborn. Regardless, tailing you like a lost puppy seems to alleviate his boredom. To each their own.

“If you’re just going to walk behind me, can you—” you shift the basket from the crook of your arm, preparing to offer it. He snatches it from you before you can even finish speaking. 

“...Thanks.” 

He takes his newfound job as the basket carrier very seriously. His dour face doesn't budge an inch as you peruse the rest of the wares, plucking a few items from open crates and wooden shelves to add to the bundle. 

“So, see anything that piques your interest?” you’re not sure what prompts you to speak up. You should get through this as silently and as quickly as possible. The less time you spend in public with this man, the better. The presence of the Cloud Knights isn’t nearly as felt on this level, making it as safe a haven for criminals as can be. You suspect, sometimes, that it’s purposeful. In your many travels, you have come to realize that the criminal class is a valuable part of any economy, no matter how much those at the top may protest it. Those who disavow it the most fervently are usually the most involved, under the table.

Blade doesn’t respond, at first. His crimson gaze glances over the nearby shelves. He grabs a bottle of cloves and presents it to you, completely straight-faced.

You get the overwhelming sense he’s appeasing you more than anything.

“...Yeah,” you pluck it from his hand and halfheartedly eye the label. It’s hard to muster the energy to argue with him, especially when he looks so resolute. The fact that he’s continuing to tail you through the market is cause enough to ignore him. You drop the bottle into your basket and move on.

Thankfully, the rest of the trip passes in peaceful silence. You can feel Blade’s gaze, unreadable, lingering on your form as you pull your wallet out of one of your many pockets. The shopkeep, a sprightly young man with a head of bouncy, brown hair beams at the sight of you. You don’t remember his name, but you’re familiar with him. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts his mouth tight before he can get a word out.

He glances over your shoulder. You swivel just barely to look at your stubborn shadow. Blade looms closer than you remember him being, leaving you with an up close and personal view of his chest. You tsk and look up at his face. 

“Can you get a bottle of white cardamom for me? It should be with the rest of the spices.”

Blade looks at you, and looks at the shopkeep. He is silent. The lines of his face are harsher than usual, burdened with deeper shadow. For a few, agonizing moments, you fear he may object, but he turns almost robotically and walks off. You’re not sure what’s upset him this time. You don’t particularly care. If you troubled yourself with the qualms of every pouting client, you’d be just as miserable as you were with The Family.

“Thanks. I could hardly get a word out while he was giving me those evil eyes,” the shopkeep says, shuddering.

“I guess his manners still need work,” Not that men in his line of work really needed any. 

“Alphas that smell that strong and don’t even try to put a lid on it are the worst,” he gripes, bagging your produce with nimble hands, before pausing and looking back up at you. He wrings his hands, contrite and sheepish. “—er, no offense.” 

“He smells strong?” you tilt your head to the side.

“Well, yeah. He’s all over you,” the man blinks. Some of his bangs fall over his big, brown eyes. He swipes them behind his ear thoughtlessly. “You guys just get together? He’s probably trying to flaunt it. Stake his ‘claim’, y’know?” he says with a sympathetic roll of the eyes.

You don’t particularly care what he says about Blade. A man able to lift a three-thousand pound sword doesn’t need defending.  It’s his misconceptions about your relationship that irks you, for some reason. You don’t care about the opinions of others (you try not to care about the opinions of others) but you can’t resist the sudden urge to correct him.

“We’re not together.”

“Oh,” he blinks at you. “Does he know that?”

“Ugh. Enough. It’s none of your business.” your lips twist, a sliver of teeth exposed in your displeasure.

The shopkeep nods and beams at you, all previous curiosity wiped clean off his face. “Heard loud and clear!”

He finishes ringing you up and sees you off with a “have a nice day~!”. Blade follows you to your next stop, a stall that sells fresh fruits. 

The frustration builds within you slowly. It’s a candlewick of a thing, at first. Blade is following you around. Irritating, but you can cope with it. He would leave if he was asked. Maybe Kafka told him to stick around for a while. She’s gotten into a bad habit of pawning him off on you, like he’s a child that needs watching rather than one of the universe’s most efficient killing machines. That’s fine. You’re not keen to get on her bad side.

Blade is scenting you. He’s sticking to you tight as a cobweb and giving dirty looks to people you talk to. That, you cannot abide by. It takes you at least five minutes to simmer, from the crate of apples to the lefternmost all of the stall to the bundle of leeks close to its middle. You’re not really looking at anything. Lost in thought.

“I am not an omega for you to covet. I don’t need your protection,” you tell him, letting your gaze idly roam over the prices. They’re written on fancy little labels with red accents, each one neatly stickered just below the lip of each crate. 

“I never said you did,” Blade replies after a moment of deliberating. You look over a crate of cantaloupe. Selecting a ripe one is a practiced art.

“You didn’t have to,” you pause, melon held in your hands as you give him a scathing look. “Control your pheromones. You’re not an animal.”

“No. Worse, I am a blade.” he sighs, suddenly sounding unusually surly. Your lips twitch in the barest beginnings of a frown. 

“Not an excuse,” you helpfully remind him. A shadow is cast over his face, then, dark and brooding. The space between his brows wrinkles, an uncertainty you haven’t quite seen from him before. There’s so little need to deliberate in a life like his own, so what troubles him now? It nettles something in you, makes you feel in a way that you don’t care to name and don’t want to look into. You deliberate asking, but he makes the choice for you.

“I will leave you, now.” When you turn to look at him, he’s already walked away from your side, strides longer than usual. He dissolves into the crowd like a sunset shadow, naught left in his wake but the scent you know still clings to your clothes. 

—

“My, my. You rarely ever visit at this hour,” Luocha says, giving you one of those mirthful smiles where his eyes scrunch, unabashedly delighted (and undeniably smug) to see you. He lounges on the ottoman, slender fingers parting the pages of a furniture catalogue. “To what do I owe the honor?”’ He’s already deduced that you want something from him. You take no excessive pride in your poker face but it still pains you to be so easily read. Luocha stands apart from the crowd with his soft hands and feigned delicacy, but he smells blood in the water just as easily as any other follower of the Hunt.

“I just wanted to talk,” you see no reason to dance around it.

“You came all this way for a conversation?” He rests his chin on the palm of his hand in a haughty way that pisses you off.

“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted this whole time?” you grouse, and he laughs.

“I’m flattered, regardless. Come, sit and tell me all that is on your mind.” he beckons to a seat at his side, which you stiffly sink into, unable to relax beneath his hunter’s gaze.

“You’re an omega—”

“Yes, quite,” his smile is now coquettish. You feel your face wrinkle in annoyance, line of your brows dipping low. 

“I wasn’t done. You know more about secondary genders than I do—and I don’t have anyone else to talk about it with, so…”

“I appreciate you confiding in me like this,” Luocha says, sweet as honey, timbre smooth as silk. There’s an ease about him here, in his own domain, that soothes and disarms you despite your best efforts. “It couldn’t have been easy for you to ask, so unused to relying on anyone else. I’m no professional, but I will answer your questions as best as I am able.”

He steeples his fingers with a smile, way too delighted for you to feel good about his generosity. He just likes knowing something you don’t, doesn’t he?

“Well. I’ve been spending time with an alpha, lately. It’s a work thing, but he keeps hovering around. Even after I tell him he can leave.”

“Ah.” Luocha says. The corners of his smile grow taut with something you don’t quite recognize. 

And it’s a question you suddenly have to wonder for yourself. Is Blade bothering you? You can count on one hand the amount of times you have been genuinely upset with him. He’s quiet, most of the time. He answers your questions and attempts to appease you whenever possible. He carries your bags whenever you happen to be at the markets, together. Even if you really wish he wouldn’t, you can tell he’s trying to be kind. 

“He hardly speaks. And when I does, I don’t really mind. But he hovers and keeps grabbing my shopping bags whenever we’re at the markets. I don’t get it. Is it some sort of courting gesture?”

“He certainly sounds like a character,” Luocha muses, sounding far off for a moment. “You have the right idea. He’s carrying your things to both lessen your burden and to prove himself capable, even if he himself does not realize it.”

You grimace, face twisting up, The truth has an acerbic tang to it. Luocha laughs unabashedly at your dismay, the sound melodic and trilling. The longer you spend in his presence, the more convinced you become that the Aeons crafted him specifically to vex you. You give him a scathing look.

“Come, now,” Luocha wheedles. “My humblest apologies, Courier—it’s simply so rare for you to be so expressive. I was caught off guard. Shall I get you something to drink? Come, please, sit back down. Surely you have more to ask of me?”

Reluctantly, you drop into the armchair closest to the door, leaning back as far as you have the space for, You fold your fingers together, elbows perched on an arm rest each.

“I don’t envy you. It must be difficult to bear the attentions of such a peculiar alpha,” Luocha says.

“You know him, then.��� You can’t keep the accusation from your voice, something frenetic and ugly kicking up your pulse, making your stomach go sour. How deeply do they know each other? Enough for Luocha to consider spilling your secrets? Enough for them to conspire against your purposes unknown?

No, don't be ridiculous. You're not important enough a figure to be the center of any such elaborate scheme. Weak, as far as emanators go. Painfully average, even as far as betas go. Unremarkable in status and career. All that threatens you is what you have long left behind.

“I do know him. Quite well, in fact.” Luocha muses, undisputed fondness in his voice. How close are they? The question lingers bitter on the tip of your tongue. It vibrates underneath your skin, wild and desperate and gods, you want to know so badly.  “Though he may deny it, he can be shy. You’re alike, in that way.”

“I am not shy,” you bristle. It’s your curiosity alone that keeps you in his company. 

“An argument best saved for another day. Let’s not get off track—Blade is an alpha, but he bears few of the typical mannerisms associated with his secondary gender, which makes this newfound attachment to you all the more significant.”

Progressively, throughout your conversation, you’ve been able to feel the wrinkles on your face multiplying and darkening.

“It makes sense, if you ask me. You’re quite the extraordinary individual,” Luocha says, drumming his fingers idly against the armrest.

“So how do I get him to stop?” you brush past his superfluous flattery with practiced indifference. He wants to fluster you, to see you squirm. It’s one of the ugly truths behind the chivalrous front he wears in polite company.

“Are you sure you want him to stop?” he inquires.

“What are you getting at?”

“If you truly wanted to no longer be the object of these behaviors, you would have no problem telling him yourself.”

You laugh, and it’s a cold and bitter thing. “Not all men take rejection well.”

“As I well know,” Luocha reminds you. He’s so haughty, so utterly confident that sometimes you forget he’s an omega, a demographic as subject to unwanted advances as any you are a part of. He stands up, empty glass cradled in hand. The sheer material of his robe billows around him like fine mist, treating you to the outline of his smooth, toned legs. Blade is more built, the thought comes to you unbidden. You squish it like the raspberries you juiced only a week ago on Luocha's kitchen counter. You wonder if the stains ever came out.

“Objectively speaking, you have more of a reason to hold your tongue around me than you do him. Yet, you hardly hesitate to make your displeasure known in my company,” he points out. “It’s not because of my secondary sex. You hardly ever remember that I’m an omega, unless my heat is soon.”

“And your point is?”

He seizes your chin, then tilts your head up until you’re forced to look into those grass green eyes. Cradled between his forefinger and thumb, you are left with nowhere else to go. You wonder briefly if it thrills him to do this because he is an omega. If he finds some kind of perverse pleasure in subverting the roles society espouses about his kind.

“You could have told him off on your own. Instead, you went out of your way to consult someone you deeply dislike, looking for another, less direct way of handling it. All of that implies some degree of care, whether you want to admit it or not.”

He’s right, and you hate nothing more than when he’s right.

“Thank you for your time,” you dip back into your customer service with a placid and empty drone, because you know how much he hates it. You say it to his chest, refusing to give him the eye contact. Unwilling to expend the effort. For plausible deniability, because you don’t know what you’ll find on his face. The air has grown balmy and cloying and fragrant. You stand up, and he steps backwards. “But I must be going, now.”

“How unfortunate,” Luocha coos as you awkwardly find your way around him, having been sandwiched between his body and the coffee table. “I was going to put the kettle on…”

—

The shroud of night has settled over the Luofu. A crescent moon winks down at you from the artificial sky, peering between the treetops. You’re laid on your back, on the concrete patio near the shed. 

Footsteps head in your direction. You already know who it is. There’s no one else that has that blistering, writhing aura. Blade comes to stand over you. His brows wrinkle in displeasure. You don’t know why. It’s not his patio that you’ve gotten your blood all over.

“You’re injured,” he says, frowning. He crouches over you. A pale thumb smears the drying crimson on your upper lip. Your entire face scrunches up, gnarled like a gargoyle, recoiling from the unexpected touch.

“Nosebleed,” you mutter. The space behind your eyes throbs in protest, accompanied by a fierce pressure at the bridge of your nose. All typical symptoms. The gifts bestowed upon you as Emanator unfortunately do not shield you from your allergies. To think, an Emanator could still be laid low by something as mundane as allergies. 

“Who gave it to you?” Blade looms a little closer, gaze steely.

“No one. Sometimes my allergies act up. That’s all.” you assure him, squinting irritably. You hope your judgmental flower will shame him out of your personal space, but he lingers.

“You should remain indoors, then.” he draws. He lifts his bloodied hand and looks at it, too contemplative for your liking. 

“I take medication for it. Just forgot today,” it feels wrong to justify yourself. He isn't owed an answer, but this is a rare moment. Blade showing such outright concern over something so novel is interesting (a more sentimental person might call it touching). Has his immortality rendered him incapable of distinguishing a few pesky allergies from a deadly ammonia? You can’t imagine someone so riddled with regeneration to register the difference between a gaping gash and a papercut. 

“Then remember to take them.” he advises coolly. 

“I will.”

You lay there, then, in silence unperturbed for a few moments. The hard ground is cool against your back. It’ll fix your aching spine, you’re sure. 

“Are you not going to get up?” Blade asks.

“No. It feels nice to be on the floor, sometimes.” you assure him quickly, lest he assume your nosebleed has robbed you of all mobility. He stares at you, blank-faced, but you somehow can tell he is skeptical. You pat the space next to you, a silent offering.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it. This rare creature, crackling with the energy of his divine “gift”. You don’t indulge in typical sentiments, and you spurn love and limerence for your own sanity, due to the madness you have seen both inspire. To adore is to give of yourself, to exhaust what limited energy you have left. Yet, there is no arguing the fact of his beauty. His hair pools like fresh slick pitch. Faint moonlight catches on the sable strands. His jaw cuts a sharp and handsome shape, eyelashes long and thick. He stares up at the sky, unreadable. 

“Kafka has no need of me in the coming days.” “It is… strange. The Stellaron Hunters are few in number, so our hands are always full. To be bereft of any responsibility… is rare.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about that.”

“No. It will leave me restless. And the silence will only give the mara room to spread. It’s better—more manageable when there is a task at hand.” Blade admits, a shiver in his voice.

“I do. I believe you are familiar with the place,” he says. That catches your attention. And makes you just a little nervous. 

“Do you even have anywhere to stay?” The Stellaron Hunters surely have a vessel of their own where he can lodge. You’re ultimately not too concerned. You shut your eyes and listen to the midnight breeze, feel the black of the night against your skin.

You turn to look at him, almost afraid to ask. “Familiar?”

“The merchant has opened his home to me. I will remain there for the duration of my… off time.”

Again, you are sorely tempted to question the exact nature and origin of their relationship, but it’s truly none of your business. You’ve long espoused a policy of isolation, but there’s no denying how thoroughly entangled you have become in them. Elbows deep. You’re not quite sure how it happened. They’re infiltrated your monotonous life, moved in so slowly that you didn’t even notice until this very moment. 

“Well. He’s not there most of the time, so it’ll be like having your own place,” You can’t imagine Blade as a homeowner, for some reason. It just invokes the image of him mowing a lawn in khaki shorts with that same, placid face he always wears. He’s too ethereal and strange to trim the hedges or fix a leaky faucet. Sometimes, you think he’d look more in-place if he levitated instead of just walking everywhere.

“I had lemonade the other day,” he says, and this fascinates you, because it is so very rare for him to initiate conversation about something so little.

“...And? Did you like it?” Perhaps it’s petty, but you already have a feeling that he didn’t. You hate to presume, but you think you have similar palettes. 

“...It was too sweet, and burdened by a lingering, chemical taste,” he confirms your vague conjecture and you very nearly laugh. Or make some sort of short, wry noise like a horse’s snort.

“Yeah. Ones that aren’t made from scratch tend to be like that.”

“And that is why you make your own.” 

“Exactly,” you lift your gaze from him and return it to the sky. “When you make something from scratch, you can make however you like. Ones you buy pre-bottled have too much sugar.” He hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing else.

The twinkling stars are no more authentic than the clouds which hover during the day. But you wonder how many far off stars he has visited across the span of his long un-life. How many civilizations he has seen toppled, how many lives have ended at his hands. What a terrifying beast Yaoshi has created. Yet, here he lay beneath a sky he has likely long tired of, humoring your purposeless requests for reasons unknown.

—

You’re tucked on the steps off the side door, head leaned back and eyes shut, drinking in the warmth of the artificial midday sun. Blade leans up against the wall next to you, arms crossed. You don’t blame him for staying in the shade, not when he’s always dressed so darkly.

You shouldn’t show your stomach to a known apex predator. Your instincts are tampered down, but you still curl your spine and lift your knees to your chest when you usually it on the stoop. You haven’t done it, today. Anxiety thrums in the space right behind your eyes. The scared animal inside of you writhes in his presence. You look at him, gaze by happenstance falling on the profile of his chest.

Breasts, you think stupidly, and laugh aloud. The noise is so sudden that you almost don’t realize it came from you. Blade looks down at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you're still too caught up in your own disbelief. Spending so much time with him has softened your skill, started to fry your remaining brain cells. He’s always been handsome. But you’ve started to too keenly note the bow curve of his lips, the narrowness of his waist.

And you hate, hate, hate proving Luocha right.

“What is it that you find so amusing?” Blade speaks slowly, like he’s talking to a scared dog or a lost child.

“Nothing,” you shut your eyes and tilt your head back, letting it thump against the top step. Blade inhales sharply. “Just remembered a stupid joke I heard a few days ago.” When you open your eyes, Blade has turned away, inspecting a row of gladiolus planted next to the nearby shed. The line of his shoulders has gone tense.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” you muse.

“Did you plant them?”

“No. I delivered the seeds. Only a week ago, I think. They wouldn’t have been able to sprout this fast.”

“Under normal circumstances, perhaps,” Blade skates a finger over a bright orange petal. “That merchant utilizes his gift so shamelessly. Even while at the heart of his natural born enemy.”

“And it’ll all be for nothing if that damn cat comes and eats them,” you grunt. You’ev stumbled upon torn up patches of grass and bitten through flower patches, stems snapped and petals crushed. You briefly, in one of your pettiest and cruelest moments, nearly suggested Luocha plant lilies next. The callousness of your own thought had startled you into silence, so gladiolus it was.

“Ah. About the cat,” Blade begins. You blink, wide-eyed. A cold pit forms in your stomach, because—

“You didn’t,” you gape.

“I did not kill it,” Blade says sourly, clearly affronted by the assumption. “I brought it to Kafka. They seem to get along.”

The tension melts out of you at once. Your petty grudge isn’t worth the blood of an innocent animal. You let yourself fall back against the stoop. The edges of the stairs dig into your spine. 

“That makes sense,” you say, a touch wry.

Blade grimaces. “They send me images of the little beast every day I am not there. If Silver Wolf is to be believed, it ‘eats better’ than she does.”

Does Silver Wolf eat well to begin with? “That was kind of you,” you say instead. 

“Was it? Or was it cruel to the man who will wonder where his pet has gone?” Blade inquires. He doesn’t sound particularly bothered by the possibility. 

You scoff. “I doubt he’ll even notice.”

—

You are natant in the dull haze of half-sleep. The soft scent of camelias and fabric softener and linens. A cloying warmth cocoons you, keeps you mired in a state of partial sleep. Burrowed beneath the comfort exists a nagging feeling of wrongness, like a pebble in your boot. You cling to the sensation, let it pull you from the inky, peaceful depths. You’re not sure how long it takes for you to breach the surface. It feels like ages by the time you pry your weary eyes open.

There’s a body crushed into you. An unyielding, solid mass of muscle. The scent of something charred wreathes around you. Your cheek is pressed up against a heartbeat, steady and strong. It would be comforting if you knew where you were, or who you were with.

Alarm, molten hot, jots down your spine. Shaken from your stupor, you begin to writhe. Your palms slap against the chest of the man beneath you. You brace yourself against him in an effort to pry yourself free.

An arm around your midriff tightens, and the panic grows. You lash out, snarl, a hand reaching behind you to grab onto the assailant’s wrist.

The room blurs, then. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you’re reoriented and pinned with minimal effort. Your eyes blow wide, gaze caught by those candlewick eyes. Blade’s hair is mussed from both sleep and the struggle. His lips are pulled into a snarl. Your gut squirms at the flash of those deadly canines—sharper than you’d imagined (he’s never bared his teeth at you).

“Stop,” he commands, low and throaty. You shudder, foolish hindbrain moved to obey the order. This, you realize, is what an alpha’s command must sound like.

As you lay beneath him, chest to heaving chest, the pieces of the previous night return to you in fragments and shades.

Blade came to your door at dusk’s end. The shuttles had shut down for the night. You let him in, quickly, before anyone could witness a known fucking criminal at your door. You fed him dinner, anyways. Spoke late into the night—about what you cannot truly recall. Somewhere around three in the morning, you must have nodded off. 

“Have you calmed down?” Blade asks.

“Yes,” you grumble, feeling thoroughly chastised despite his flat and empty tone. You attempt to dislodge yourself a second time, but Blade stops you fast. “Blade—” The beginning of a feeling you cannot quite name crawls up your spine, up the back of your skull. It’s a creeping, white hot sensation. A sudden deprivation of air. His eyes have closed. You feel your pulse spike. “Blade.” You try again. “Let me up.”

He draws a shaky breath.

“You don’t understand, do you?”

“What is there for me to understand?” you ask, voice a tepid little thing. He laughs. The sound is manic and bitter. When he opens his eyes, they’re hot enough to burn a hole in you.

“I… remember you,” he begins slowly. There’s a creeping breathiness there, you feel it under your palms, writhing inside of his ribcage. “When you are not there. I remember how warm your hands are, the smell of your sweat—the taste of when we are… together. And I crave it every moment we are apart. It’s—maddening.”

“What.” you’re taken back, all the sudden, to the sixth time Sunday called you to his office. A servant of the Harmony, you were, still protected by your naivete, still convinced by the smiling faces and open arms which surrounded you. A child. A seed, among the older and wiser trees in Xipe’s forests. 

You remember the exact shape of his lips when he said it—you remember how it felt. You feel the same way now, pinned like a little butterfly. Lost in the reeds.

“I remember you,” Blade continues, slower and calmer, now. Burning wood to dead charcoal. “When we are apart, you are all I remember, and the emptiness that exists in your shape is too much to bear. I need—” he licks his lips, his empty pupils blown so very wide.

“The mara becomes quiet, when we are together,” he whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. His eyes close. His forehead is a wide rash of heat, pressed against yours. He takes a single, shuddering inhale, breathing your air. 

And you—you’re still frozen there, caught up in the vice of his body and the couch. You stare emptily beyond him. His face settles into the crook of your neck. 

The lamplight flickers on and off. 

[pauli-writes]

will u write a pt 2 for the sunday short?? its such a good concept 😓😓

warning: set during 2.3 story quest, religious themes, toxic relationship

pairing: sunday x reader

author’s note: u request i shall deliver (i’m sorry it’s been like a month, i didn’t know what to write for this but now i do) not proofread :,)

part I

“you are up early.”

you nearly dropped your bottle of soulglad as you heard the familiar voice of himeko. despite having found the watchmakers legacy and the truth about penacony, as well as stopping sunday from becoming… whatever it was that the express crew fought in the end, you found yourself restless.

perhaps it was the fact that you were forced to return to penacony, when a galaxy ranger named boothill hijacked the astral express with you and dan heng on it, you had no choice but face your past and what you saw was anything but healing for your inner self. you’d think beating up the person who kept you locked up for a better part of your life would lead to catharsis, if anything it left you more confused than before.

you turned to face himeko, forcing a smile. “ever since i first left penacony i don’t sleep well. i suppose it’s less noticeable when we’re on the express since i’m mostly in my room.”

you hoped that this explanation was enough for her, it was the truth, but not the whole truth. although you saw himeko’s expression change slightly as she put a hand on your shoulder. “don’t worry after the charmony festival we’ll leave. so, i suggest you take care of any unfinished business before then.”

you blinked in confusion. she said it so casually, that you almost missed the look she gave you. did she know about your troubles? “unfinished business?”

“you know what i mean,” himeko replied with a small smile, “well, i’ve got to go. i’m having a meeting with the ipc. i’m sure you’ll do well.”

himeko left after giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder, leaving you to ponder your choices. it wasn’t like you couldn’t return to penacony after leaving, but you seriously doubted that you would come back voluntarily.

which is why you now found yourself with your dear childhood friend robin in front of a large door.

“thank you for letting me do this.” you said to her, fidgeting with the golden astral express crew member pin on your jacket. you had been nervous since you texted robin for the favour and the many bloodhound family members around you weren’t helping.

robin smiled kindly at you as always, despite spending most of your time with sunday, the moments you spent with her were very dear to your heart. when you were children you were often forced guided to spent time with sunday, but every once in a while you played or studied with Robin and she was kind to you, almost distracting you from sunday’s possessive behaviour. maybe in a different life you could have travelled with her on her tour.

“it’s no problem, but are you sure?”

you waved your hand dismissively, trying to hide your feelings. “yeah, yeah. i’ll be fine.”

“okay,” she replied simply, “well, i have to go back to prepare everything on the radiant feldspar, but call me if anything happens.”

you nodded, “will do.”

after that she took your hands in hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze, surprising you and making you blush. “i hope this will give you the closure you need. i can not excuse the things my brother has done to you, but i hope you can move past them.”

she let go and then left you to it. with a deep breath you opened the door and let light stream into the otherwise dark room. as you stepped inside with small hesitant steps you saw him, he was sitting on a chair, chained in placed by his wrists, ankles and neck. he had the look of a fallen angel, and you suppose that was an accurate description of sunday.

an angel led astray and blinded by a god by way of false promises and the lie of a perfect painless world.

his golden eyes widened slightly as he saw you walk in, he hadn’t been expecting anyone to visit him, let alone you, until he was sentenced to death. “reader…”

“hey…” you replied meekly, even chained he had some sort of authority about him, making you feel small. “thought I should say goodbye before leaving penacony.”

he let out a dry chuckle, “don’t lie to me, please. i thought you knew better than that.”

you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. you couldn’t let him get to you. “don’t address me as if we are friends.”

“we were friends once,” he said calmly, “something more too. i remember you enjoyed our time together.”

“because i didn’t know any better,” you replied, your hands balling into fists on your sides.

“until you did and you ran away,” he replied, and you hated how calm and condescending he sounded when he talked to you. “you ran away and you left penacony, you left robin, you left… me.”

you looked down briefly. you did leave without a word, but you weren’t the bad guy like sunday would want you to believe. “you think i wanted to leave? you gave me no other option. i was forced to live in solitude, you made me completely dependent on you. my cage may have been gilded but it was a cage nonetheless.”

sunday was quiet after that. you didn’t like when he was quiet, because you couldn’t read his expression very well. he was taught to conceal his emotions from a young age, so you never knew what he thought about.

the silence continued as he leaned his head up to look at the ceiling in a contemplative manner. you didn’t think you’d get anything else out of him, and if you were being honest you felt a lot more at ease by speaking your truth already.

“if you have nothing else to say, i’ll leave now.” you looked at him expectingly.

he lowered his head and looked at you again, his golden eyes staring straight into you. “i feel no remorse for what i did, because i believe that i was just. i was trying to protect and help the people of penacony, i was trying to protect you. and yet you see me as the bad guy, so please, can you answer me a question before you go?”

you nodded hesitantly.

“did you ever love me?”

the words pierced your heart in a way you didn’t expect, because you didn’t know the answer yourself. your entire life was orchestrated by the family, your feelings were dictated as much as your schedule or your diet. you once loved sunday, but you didn’t know if these feelings were your feelings.

you shifted awkwardly on your feet, fidgeting again with your astral express badge. “there was a time where i loved you, but that version of me, wasn’t, well, very me. the person you know and the person i am today, are different people. i hope you understand that.”

his expression once again didn’t reveal any emotion, making you fidget once again.

“i should go now,” you blurted out, before taking a deep breath, “despite everything i do wish you well, sunday.”

for once in his captivity he smiled a little, “i wish you well too, reader. i truly hope that in another life we’ll see each other again.”

you smiled back at him, before stepping out of the room and closing the door. you spent the rest of your way to golden hour by contemplating your life with sunday, until you reached the golden clockie statue and spotted three familiar faces, dan heng, march 7th and the trailblazer.

“what are you guys doing here?” you asked as you walked up to them.

“mr. yang told us where you are and we couldn’t possibly go to the charmony festival without you,” march 7th said with her usual smile.

“how are you feeling?” dan heng asked, he could probably see the exhaustion and emotional turmoil on your face.

you put on a smile, “i’m managing. let’s head to the radiant feldspar, i promised robin to help with some preparations.”

[akutasoda]

good evening. first of all, again, congratulations on 1k, thats a big milestone! (for me at least) and im here to request for the 1k event ^_^

i figured the event doesn't really have a theme, so id like to req a small oneshot of aventurine and reader with the 4th prompt of this post with heavy angst if you could do. thank you, and have a nice day!

if only i could've told you sooner

synopsis - you want him to know, especially if he doesn't have long left

includes - aventurine

warnings - gn!reader, heavy angst, no comfort, maybe unrequited feelings?, hints toward suicide + death, wc - 689 a/n: thank you!! if you're reading this you better check out ezel - writing is *chef's kiss*

anyone with half a brain could realise it was practically a suicide mission - even if it wasn't intended to be, that was obviously the back up plan. it's like the saying 'if all else fails', if the plan didn't work out you knew damn well aventurine wouldn't mind placing his life on the line to achieve the goal he had his sights on. you both knew that, even if he didn't tell you.

'how long do you reckon then' you stared his slumped over form down as he shuffled a small deck he kept on his desk 'mm don't know but i wouldn't plan to stay long' he sighed before letting a small smirk crawl onto his lips as he made eye contact 'why? you worried you'll start to miss me?'. now it was your turn to sigh, and mask the genuine concern, 'as if. just means i get your paperwork if you're gone too long' he let out a small laugh 'ouch. i'd hoped atleast you'd miss me'

he left not long after to prepare for his stay in penacony, leaving you all alone in his office. you closed your eyes and sighed yet again, you knew damn well that any mission that had aventurine on it would result in him making an outlandish bet that would always affect him if he lost. it would be a good couple of amber eras before you even dared to admit, but you cared for him. his self destructive behaviour kept you on your toes because you truly wouldn't know what to do if he lost one day - he didn't deserve the fates he put on the table for the sake of the IPC's demand.

your eyes caught sight of the mission file laid carelessly on his desk and you picked it up to throw into his trash can on the way out. aventurine had picked up many skills, one of which was the ability to grasp a very accurate reading on people so he knew you cared. he knew you'd throw away that file if he left it and he knew you kept little trinkets he gave you or a note as a memento to what he dare say was a friendship. a friendship that oh so clearly had the potential for more.

it was true. you'd kept most things aventurine gave you: notes he'd send you on long missions, small gifts he'd bring back from across the galaxy, and even the card pack that won you your first game against aventurine. however those were just material items. no matter how much you could keep, if he truly lost a bet on his life you wouldn't be able to remember him the same. nothing could even begin to compare to seeing him in person, even if he drove you up the wall sometimes.

in honesty, most of your memories with aventurine are encapsulated inside your phone. it wouldn't be uncommon for you and aventurine to hang around each other especially at IPC event's and sometimes in a rare moment you can catch aventurine in a photo with you - and it's not aventurine one of the ten stonehearts, it's aventurine. your favourite is a more recent photo of you and aventurine at the most recent IPC event, you can convince yourself that his smile isn't a facade and he is truly happy in that moment.

aventurine has exactly ten minutes before he's set to depart to penacony. you haven't seen him for awhile because he's been too busy ensuring the transport of the cornerstone's was successful and all the other bag's he didn't need on him, and as you stare at the photos of you and him you realise something. at this point you don't care that he might not reciprocate your feelings, but you want him to be aware. you want him to know for sure that there is somebody in this unforgiving galaxy who loves him, especially if he may never return.

akutasoda's 1k event

[glitterguts13]

Do you have any favourite of hcs (any kind) of aventurine?

Oh, I have so much to say about Aventurine it's not even funny, so here comes a jumbled mix of thoughts.

TW: topics of slavery, self-harm, sexual abuse, and suicidal ideation. Please read with caution!

Aventurine struggles with genuine physical and emotional intimacy. Having been used, abused, and tortured all this life, mentally, sexually, and physically, he's grown to learn that people are to be kept at arm's length the whole time.

Because of this, Aventurine became very hyper-sexual to deal with the trauma. To him, if he starts it and stays in control, he can't be hurt. This isn't true at all, but it's the only way he knows how to handle people who start getting touchy with him because saying 'no' never worked in the past.

If someone does manage to break down his walls and form a genuine emotional bond with him...he really doesn't know what to do. He showers his partners with gifts and money, is extremely sex driven, and doesn't have any consideration for his own well-being. He's so worried about losing them, that he gives too much.

Aventurine doesn't know how to ask for things he wants. In the sense, he doesn't know how to say "Please, just hold my hand." or "Will you brush my hair?" These simple little acts of love that he desperately craves, but can't ask for because he's worried he's being needy.

For fucks sake just hold this man and remind him that his worth isn't tied to his wealth or his body.

The hand that trembles, hold it tightly and press it to your lips. He'll fall to pieces.

Aventurine is torn between desperately wanting a family and being terrified of having one. He wants a partner, children, and a home to come back to that's filled with love, warmth, and laughter...but he knows how quickly he could lose it, and just how big a target is painted on his back. It keeps him up at night, debating back and forth on if he should pursue his desire or leave it to rot like the rest of his dreams.

Topaz is the closest thing to a 'friend' he has inside of the IPC. While they're hardly besties, she's at least someone he can relax around and share a few drinks with. She's not given him any reason to distrust her, but I don't think he would ever fully rely on her either.

Has played his fair share of Russian Roulette, and leaves disappointed each time he wins.

Also, are we all just going to ignore that little tidbit where they mention he was strapped to an electric chair?? I can't even begin to imagine how that fucked him up both mentally and physically.

That being said, Aventurine has a lot of self-harm and pain-seeking tendencies. I won't go into details, but when he gets low, his mind begins to spiral and he has to find something to snap him out of it or else it just gets worse and worse until he's ready to make sure that gun is fully loaded.

He's grown better about it over the years, but he will never fully be able to heal and recover. Especially not as long as he's in the hands of the IPC. Ratio is the only one who catches wind of Aventurine's self-harming tendencies, but he doesn't have a clue on how to help him, so he keeps quiet.

The brand on his neck is a source of contention. He has the money to have it removed and covered up. He hates to see it, but in the same breath, he's almost afraid to lose it. If he does, will he lose sight of his past? Where he came from? He isn't ashamed of his past, but he also doesn't like the very clear reminder of it either. Jade makes passion comments on it often, and it makes his stomach twist everytime.

Donates obscene amounts of money to children in need. He will never let a child suffer, and while he clearly can't dismantle the entire fucked up system set in place, he's bought the contracts of many child slaves and freed them anonymously. He wants to save them all, but it just isn't possible, and it's one more thing that keeps him awake at night.

[mymarifae]

HI I just happened to have stumbled upon your account and got very excited to see someone talking about the story for this HSR update because I’m still processing!! I know you’ve mainly been talking about Aventurine (understandably so), but I’d love to know your thoughts on the conversation between him and Acheron. Idk something about that scene really stuck to me through everything. I think it reveals so much about each of them as individuals and even their relationship? But yea how did you see it and what are your thoughts and

i loved it! like i said, i really, really, really enjoyed the way she shunned the nihility despite her position as an emanator. that was thematically perfect. she's a "raiden mei" who lost her "kiana" (and subsequently, her home, her planet, and everything she knew). she has been engulfed by despair, plagued by loss on an unimaginable scale. it would be so easy for her to drown in the nihility - to lose herself in the pointlessness and unfairness of it all... but she doesn't. she actively chooses to value life and individual choices. when aventurine starts talking about the nihility enveloping everyone and always being There, she tells him it's pointless. "it" not as in life, but as in the nihility itself.

and she's right! if it's always there, then what's the point in paying it any mind? that energy is better put into cherishing the time you do have to be alive. life matters because it always comes to an end. like, remember the xianzhou? yeah.

everything she had to say about endings and death is basically my own perspective on the matter. so that was really gratifying ^^ it's not a perspective i often see explored to the extent hsr did, because like i've said before... many stories are afraid to go prodding at the idea of death. many people are terrified of it. but like... why bother with that? it's there, it will happen to all of us, that's fine, i don't mind, i'm not going to despair over it. because the journey and the memories we make along the way are what matters

(good old red text blending in badly with this alternate color palette of hers... "And because of this, the 'end' will thus reveal a completely different meaning.")

she really was the perfect person to convey this. not just because of the subversion of the entire philosophy of nihilism - i think aventurine needed to hear it all. from her specifically. hard to keep arguing that life is pointless because it always ends in death when an emanator of nihility tells you that's not true. he hasn't valued his own life since... well . ever, it seems. even in his childhood he was ready to gamble it all away (the flashback where he risks his life to retrieve his sister's necklace)

his current gamble isn't over yet. he managed to stay one step ahead of sunday and provoked acheron into attacking him and getting him to this "other side" of the memory zone/dreamscape. but now he has to get out - and from what i understand, this is the part where all those official deaths on penacony's record happened. it wasn't them being "killed" in the dreamscape; it was their attempt to leave this "other side." if he can do it, i think he'll come out with a new appreciation for his life and a new sense of peace - and perhaps some freedom from the IPC, finally. the other stonehearts seem to think he's actually dead, right? here's his chance to slip free. which is the real reason why he went this far in the first place, btw :)

[yunarise]

@iiryoku said: ❝ Doc- Ratioooo~ ❞ left the gambler's glossy lips as he followed the tall male, clearly not caring that the man, was most likely too busy to pay attention to him or, simply outright ignored him. Aventurine couldn't care less that heads were turning as he kept on following the doctor, uncaring that he had to speed up his steps as he did so, while dodging the people in his path. ❝ Come on, doc, slow down- ❞ Was it because he hadn't told the other about his last mission, which had ended up, with him being injured? No, that couldn't be it, he wouldn't truly care about that. ❝ If I didn't know any better, I would say that you're ignoring me, ❞ the words were lashed with sarcasm as amusement was pulled onto Aventurine's features, effortlessly, while he continued to follow the familiar back.

Aventurine is worse than any fly, insistent on buzzing right beside his ear. Veritas continues to stride forward, uncaring of his students' curious stares, hastening his steps until they reach his office. He opens the door and pushes Aventurine inside, his hand snatching the gambler's akin to a snake snatching its prey. And isn't it hilarious that his mind rouses the image of a reptile before his inner eye, now of all times.

Jade's glossed lips had curved deviously as she'd leaned in, not touching but intruding on Veritas space's closely enough to smell the stifling sweetness of her perfume; a temptress born from Eden's garden; a cloying sweetness that of rot rather than the fruit of widom greedy sheltered by an uncaring god. They all claim to be loving, yet watch passively as their darlings suffer without remorse.

Veritas pushes Aventurine up against the wodden door as soon as it closes behind them, separating them from the busy student body and nosy colleages, who whisper about the man who holds Veritas heart in the palm of his hand. It's not a secret. Veritas never attempted to hide his affection even if Aventurine appears too riddled with self-doubt to notice the depths of Veritas care.

"Your prowess of observation are truly without compare," he exhales with a hot puff of air against Aventurine's face. Veritas continues to hold onto the gamber's wrist, squeezing it to still his own's trembling. "What were you thinking?" he snarls, anger burning brightly in his chest. It's passion that makes his heart burn, but he recognizes the fear egging him on even more. It's not an emotion he knows how to manage well, he never had. This - and Aventurine by extension - are his Achilles' heel. "You idiot! Why would you use your life so carelessly? There was no need to endanger yourself, and I know you would have cheerfully sacrificed even more if the chance had presented itself." Veritas feels the dryness of his mouth, the chilled sweat leaving his pores at the thought of what could have happened. What almost did happen. "Why can't you care about your life? Or if you're incapable of even the smallest modicum of love for yourself, why can't you consider the pain you put your loved ones through when acting like this?"

Veritas bites his lip, a new flash of anger alighting his eyes as he thinks back to Jade's taunting words; her honeyed gaze and the show of emotion on her face.

' He's the IPC's and, by extention, mine. I may choose to discard him if I deem it favorable for our cause; if he causes more damage than he's worth. '

He pushes Aventurine more firmly against the door, glaring while choosing to ignore the wetness entering his eyes. He's never been ashamed of how he feels even if he isn't prone to professing it. "If you care for me, you ought to also care for yourself!"

' Do look after him, will you? '

[puppysloves]

#SELFSHIPTOBER // DAY 1: CONFESSION

fandom: honkai star rail

ship: nicholas/dr.ratio

characters: nicholas valentine (my self insert), dr veritas ratio

tags: mutual pining

i have a lot of lore for this one that i could dump on u at any given moment but i will resist for now just think of Sanctuary as a medical facility and Ratio was there because of a mission gone wrong. He fell in love with the kind director of the facility who also fell just as hard for him.

Sanctuary sits above a pink planet, the space station orbiting the doomed pink rock for the hundredth time since its conception. Eros, the planet below that had long been destroyed by all manner of criminals left nothing but an empty husk who only served to give the space station its aimless direction in space.

Veritas Ratio was well aware of the pointlessness of the planet that swirled with a mix of pink and red, but staring down at it through the window of Sanctuary he found himself almost imagining the lush pink fields and beautiful purple trees the planet had been known for. A familiar click of Sanctuary staff boots passed him before pausing in front of the window as well. One of the planets last inhabitants, the director of Sanctuary, stood next to him looking wistfully at his former home.

"It used to be magnificent. I would have liked to show you." Nicholas spoke softly the pain evident in his voice.

"I've seen pictures and heard stories but I don't suppose they could compare to the real thing." Ratio replied in kind not daring to look at the face the Lapine was making.

"I don't suppose it could."

They both stood in silence taking in the sight for a while. Nicholas's large ears had drooped down as the thick feeling of sadness spread between them. Ratio opened his mouth to say something when one of the sagging ears twitched up.

"Is everything ok?" Ratio asked, finally looking over at the other.

"... It seems like the IPC ship has arrived." The regret in Nicholas's voice was palpable but Ratio decided to ignore it.

"It's a shame." It was hard to know exactly what Ratio was talking about. "... It's really... It's beautiful."

"You could stay. You could-" Nicholas's voice cracked. "You could stay and see it whenever you want."

Ratio's knuckles gripped his hand so tightly they turned white. There was so much left unsaid here, the unspoken words could fill entire books. But how does one put words to something like 'I'm sorry the IPC helped facilitate the entrapment and slaughter of your people. I'm not like that though but I'm really in love with you and unwilling to leave my position maybe you should join them.' It's better left unsaid. There's another ear twitch that breaks the uncomfortable silence of things left unsaid.

"They're informing me that the IPC is looking for you." Nicholas pulled his eyes away from the window and turned away from Ratio.

"I'll be on my way then." With that Ratio also turned away content to leave all the words left unsaid.

"... Come back, Veritas. I will always have a room for you." Nicholas's words were so quiet but so full of meaning. Somehow he had found a way to put all his own unsaid words into one feeling that hit Ratio like a tidal wave. 'I forgive you but I can't leave my position. But you are welcome to my life, you are an important part of my heart now as well. Come be with me when everything else is too much to bare.'

Ratio found his heart caught in his throat as his feet stilled. "... Whenever I require sanctuary." It was a shaky promise that truthfully didn't reach above a whisper like he was too afraid of the words solidifying. But Nicholas heard, his large ears twitching with satisfaction. The two would come together again.

[sleepy-aletheas]

Tipsy rambling about Ratio

For someone who tried to catch Nous’ gaze, he really thinks less about the Genius Society. He seems like the person who thinks their smarts are wasted by being so selfish and self-absorbed about their ambitions that cost other people their well-being when they could achieve so much and help so many more people.

It’s interesting that his character stories are told through outsider perspectives. We don’t know what he truly thinks in those moments, in those moments in his life that seem to be so important that we are told about them. Sometimes I think about the story how he created the anti-planetary-weapon-thingy and how it’s told through the perspective of his assistant. He got a letter and let out a weary sigh. I wonder if that is where everyone got the idea that he wants to get into the genius society so badly, even till this day. Cause it could have been a sigh of someone disappointed in another’s disinterest. He is a doctor and someone who tries to help people (in his own ways, but ultimately not to seriously harm), so him building such a weapon could have been him testing the morality of others and be disappointed that even geniuses can be so fucking stupid like any other person. (Disillusionment of grandeur of someone you idolize can leave you questioning yourself for a long time)

I love his delivery of sentiments. It’s so harsh and sarcastic and demeaning, he sounds exactly like me when I try to get on others’ nerves to rise a reaction that they would usually avoid, so I could map them out better, except he does it earnestly. Which is so much funnier to me. Like yes, step over other’s feelings like a tipsy elephant, Veritas. This is a great character flaw to learn to navigate (not necessary fix, because there is a certain charm to it, and also I think, if monitored properly, it can be handled in a delicate manner; maybe I’m just projecting my own lack of societal takt, I don’t really care)

Him being caring with the sandpaper treatment is the funniest thing to me. Like, yes. Insult everyone and yet (im)patiently wait until they use their brains to think about something deeper than the surface. There is something about rough intelligent characters with a genuine hope for the better that make me go feral. Maybe it’s the juxtaposition, or maybe a projection on my part (again, I don’t care which one it is)

His love for rubber duckies is something I feel on a spiritual level. All hardass characters need to have a cute quirk. And a weird eating habit. And a “are you serious” type of sleeping position. And a silly side that makes them do ridiculous poses of statues with their own selves. (But that is once again a purely me thing)

I love how he insults Aventurine and yet it’s a thinly veiled compliment at moments. Best example is when you brute force the nightingale puzzle and along the lines he says Aventurine should join the Intelligentsia Guild. Which can be read as a joke (which probably was meant to be portrayed in-game for Sunday), but it’s not an insult all things considered. Veritas is in the Intelligentsia Guild. They would work for the same part of the IPC. If it was meant as an insult, then it would insult Veritas too, cause the sarcasm on the Genius Society was that if Veritas can’t get into the ranks, Aventurine absolutely couldn’t. And there was no specification on it being sarcasm either like the Genius Society bit.

Also I love him texting the Trailblazer, it’s so fun. Him asking if they want to pursue any schooling and in what major. Recommending them getting to learn more about debate. Wanting to unwind, so asking the Trailblazer to give him anything to think about and then be fascinated in the cutest way. He can be soft, but in the roughest way possible, and I respect that.

Even the whole playing-chess-with-himself bit is so goofy, why is he like this?? And him basically testing everyone to see what they would do, mainly the geniuses. He probably wanted to feel out the Trailblazer and in a sense also Asta (who is more of the keeper of the space station that Herta, imo), but it was a bigger test to see what Screwllum and Herta would do, and his disappointment just made me think maybe he doesn’t wanna even be in the Genius Society anymore, cause if being callous and selfish and self-absorbent is the genius quality that Nous is seeking, then he will rather be in the Intelligentsia Guild and call himself a Mundanite, cause he wants the whole universe to step up and move forward, not just a select few that leave others in the dust to die.

Simply put, he is the most infuriating character I wanna toss into the ocean whenever he opens his mouth, and I love him so dearly, my teeth itch to chew on him. The cute aggression is real with him around, and hoyo knows what they're doing. And I thank them for it.

[aluckiicoin]

"If I'm worth your while is only up to you."

*Veritas leans closer, too close, he could kiss Aventurine if he wanted to. But he doesn't. He only smiles sweetly.*

"Would you rather spend your time with me, or working for idiots who can never see your true capabilities? You could be so much more than this. Free, perhaps, but that's only the beginning."

*He leaves Aventurine a moment to process the words, watching his every reaction.*

"But first of all, a friendly talk would be nice. The choice is yours. Meet me in the closest bar in ten minutes. Or don't, you are not a pet to be told what to do."

*He brushes a stray strand of hair from Aventurine's face before leaving his office.*

@the-truth-of-nothingness

Ah, too bad, it sounded like he wouldn't get an extra prize out of the doctor. And the ball was back in his court too. Up to him, huh? His decision, his choice maybe. Aventurine refused to flinch or blink when the other leaned closer, so close – maybe close enough to taste if the blonde wasn't certain the action wouldn't shock the doctor and therefore be without any use to him. His eyes narrowed, stare unwavering, unblinking still. He could stare people down easily, it was what made him so unnerving to some.

Well, those words sure were hitting a nerve. Thank you for reminding him how little his colleagues cared for him or how often he had to deal with people effectively looking down on him. More, the doctor said as if that had ever been an option. As if there was anything more to him than his luck besides maybe his pretty face. That illusion of beauty ended the moment anyone spied his scars. Even worse Veritas spoke of a temptation that had been plaguing the gambler for almost all his life.

Free – freedom. The word tasted rotten on his tongue. For a long arduous moment the blonde felt like throwing up. As if Veritas could give him freedom. The best he could possibly do was selling the illusion of it. Like the IPC had tried. Regrettably Aventurine had always been just that bit too smart to fall for the deception.

On the other hand? Didn't Ratio free himself, got away from the preservation's claws with nary a scratch? He couldn't judge if the other was doing better or worse than before. Too much time apart he supposed. Maybe he hadn't known him at all – hadn't ever known him. Such a pity, he might never know the answer to it. And now all that was left was that offer of a 'friendly talk'. A rather venom-drenched offer to – maybe – get to know the doctor again yet if he agreed, he'd inevitably push his luck with his employer (if you could even call it that). Because ultimately the man's perception of him was flawed. He was very much a glorified pet on a short leash – or in a rather sturdy gilded and golden cage. Sure, Aventurine was able to rattle at the bars and drag some unwitting fools into his little prison to play with, crash an IPC party and – if he played the cards right – even a deal here and there but in the end his life was in someone else's hand. It made it easier to put it on the line knowing that the alternative to doing so was death too.

Fingers traced against his skin while his mind had taken a detour to consider his options. He only noticed the motion unable to perceive the touch. It would have been a sweet and caring gesture but all of those were just as poisoned to him as the words 'friend' or 'allies'.

“Ten minutes?”, that wasn't a lot of time to finish what he was supposed to do, especially with the time spent on this conversation. He would have to abandon the paperwork then and come up with an excuse. Yet that one was easy to find. Surely the IPC wouldn't mind having a set of eyes on an asset, right? “Makes one wonder on how long you are willing to wait.” - on me, left unsaid. It didn't matter, who knew if any of his words reached the man, already on his way out of the office. Well, guess it was time to test how much slack this leash of his had – and go out for a drink.

[obsoletelibrarian]

Hello, friends, family, countrymen!  I am off on a new adventure!  I am trying to keep a better track of this year than the one I spent in Toronto.  I did better in Oxford, so I will try to go back to that dedication.  For those of you who don’t know, my husband Dan was recently offered a position working as an instructor and researcher for ETH Zurich, a position where he will earn a full salary, and also leave in 3-ish years with a PhD.  Not a bad deal!  I always knew he was a smart one.  A real keeper.

Anywho, I am therefore now in Zurich, Switzerland.  We just decided to pack up and leave in fairly short notice.  We had to fly to San Francisco to get Visas, which was a terrible process which involved me at 3:00 am demanding that an airline give me a flight so that their delayed flight wouldn’t prevent us from reaching our consulate appointment, and several other such hiccups.  Especially difficult was the fact that while we tried to prepare to move, I was working very hard to participate in a version of Comedy of Errors in Clement Park, Colorado.  Brutal.

But we have made it!  I have now been here a little less than a week.  It has been about 94 degrees or hotter all week, which is insane, particularly with the humidity.  I feel like I have been just damp forever.  The Swiss spend their summer weekends in the lake and the river, but due to the airline accidentally leaving part of my luggage in Minnesota for the time being, I have no swimsuit.  I just bought the cheapest swim top money can buy, so that I can wear it with Sofi shorts as a bathing suit next weekend, to cope with the heat.

Our new apartment is nice.  350 square feet is more than I thought it was.  Our kitchen is actually quite nice, although the appliances are all half sized!  Food is in smaller portions here anyways, so it actually all fits.  This complex is actually for both students and retired individuals (it is government-run housing).  So our bathroom has a shower seat for a more elderly person than either of us.  There’s also a tiny cot/bed that smells strange.  We only use it for storage.  We sleep on an air mattress we brought with us.  We have a small issue with cockroaches, but it is nothing our boot soles cannot handle (thus far).  The two windows are open until we go to sleep, and we bought a rotating fan to deal with the heat.

Getting settled has been difficult.  The immigration office didn’t want to accept us without our marriage license, which was hard.  I was praying harder than I’d ever prayed that the guy would let us off easy on that one, and he did, so thanks to God for that one.  We still have to have our biometrics taken to get residency, and we are really worried that we won’t get full residency until our current entry visas run out, so we’re just moving as fast as we can and praying for the best.  We got Swiss health insurance, which also took some doing, but was necessary to get residency.  

At the immigration office, we were also mandated nuclear medication, because Zurich is so close to many nuclear sites.  It is a weird thing, and we still have to go to the “Apothece,” or Pharmacy, to get those pills.  This goes with the missile barn (not nuclear missiles, I think it’s just anti-aircraft or something--the nuclear is from power plants) we saw just in the city.  You can tell that it’s a missile barn because of the large “VERBOT” (forbidden) signs and the roof the comes off with a pulley system.  We had read about these before arriving here.

We just got Swiss bank accounts, but it’s taken some doing.  They are really worried about Americans doing illegal offshore stuff out here, so we really had to prove our poverty and good intentions.  But we ended up with the nicest banker of all time, who had learned German and English in the past couple of years, after having to learn Italian first when his family moved from eastern Europe.  His dream is to move to America and become a painter.  He was so nice, and gave us espresso, mineral water, and chocolates on a fancy tray as if we were the rich clients he normally works with.  He did a great job, and I hope he gets to paint someday.

We both bought year long bus passes for the greater Zurich area, which are great.  I hope onto any transportation I want and get wherever I want to go in no time.  Yesterday, Dan was at work, so I went over to the Altstadtt, the Old City, where you can see the Alps across Zurichsee, the big lake here.  I walked around the lake, and also saw more of Bahnhofstrausse than I saw from our banking time.  

I also went to the two old churches in the Altstadtt:  Grossmunster and Fraumunster.  GM was founded by Charlemagne himself, and FM was founded by his grandson, so you can imagine that I was absolutely elated to visit them.  They both have been redone many times, so actually the coolest part to me about each is the crypts underneath.  In GM, there is this ancient medieval statue of Charlemagne that used to be on the roof, but it weathered away too much, and there are these very old drawings/pictures on the wall from medieval times.  In FM, they actually have taken cross sections out of the floors in the crypts, because you can see all the levels of church buildings that have been erected at the cite, from old nun housing to waterways, all intersecting each other with different-aged stones.  They even have parts of columns from the era when Charlemagne’s grandson started the church.  Truly breathtaking.  FM also has a Chagall window, which is just gorgeous.  It is actually 5 panes, each a different color and scene from the Bible, and I just sat in the church, staring up at them and crying, because there is something about that beautiful old church with those beautiful new windows that is holy.

Dan actually couldn’t buy those bus passes before I got here though, because he made the mistake of speaking English at the counter.  They told him, “We speak German here” and turned him away.  Whether it was my meager amount of German (we eventually spoke English at the counter anyways) or our newly stamped paperwork from the Swiss government, it was much easier to get passes the second time.

Overall, we hear, “You are in Switzerland, and we speak German here,” a lot.  It’s like karma for every USA person who has mocked someone who speaks Spanish.  The older man in the apartment next to us told us that right away, and then explained the rules of the apartment complex, eying us warily.  He took us to the mailroom, and asked us where the name “Hammerland” was from, sighing that “you never could tell where people were from, nowadays.”  At first, I was worried that he didn’t like us at all, because we were Americans.  But he warmed right up to us, and now I believe he is the best friend we have out here thus far.  He gave me a book of German “Weisheit,” or wise sayings, and a card to get into Fraumunster for free (it is normally 5 franc).  He also has given us tips for everything from fashion to tourism to life.  His English is excellent, because in the 60s and 70s he was part of the music scene in New York.  After that, he studied Renaissance art and music in the Sorbonne!!!  How cool is that?!�� 

Dan hasn’t met many people at school thus far, but that’s because his group mates are on a trip, and he is going to get to hang out with them much more when they get back!  And we did make some friends at church.  We went to the IPC, the international protestant church, where they speak English and are very welcoming.  They offered us friendship and help, and one of them attends Dan’s school in the chemistry department.  Additionally, the assistant pastor’s wife is from Colorado, with family in Minnesota, she left her career to follow her husband here, and her name is Jenna.  It was such a relief to have a person who understood me well so immediately.  So we think we might make some friends here.

Dan and I have been having some good adventures, finding good places to buy groceries (the main stores are called Migros, Coop, and Denner, but boy, are they all expensive!), walking by the river and seeing all of the people in intertubes or swimming in the dammed sections, seeing art in the Wasserkirche (the Water Church), and trying to adjust to the very cheese-and-small-bits-of-bread diet we have out here (Dan has to adjust.  I think I’ve been eating Swiss accidentally all along!).  So things are starting well, despite some setbacks.

Some things you may not know about Switzerland, because I surely did not:

1) They don’t believe in air conditioning.  Ever.  They only have it in supermarkets and banks (and some busses, but rarely).  So most stores, churches, and our apartment are approximately a billion degrees at the moment.  And sticky.  Swiss women (especially the elderly and pregnant) all carry these white collapsible fans with little flowers painted on them in the Swiss style, and the bus is filled with the sound of little fans going back and forth.

2) The Swiss are all SO TAN.  Every single person has a golden summer glow.  I am about eight shades whiter than anyone here, which definitely sets me apart.  Dan looks much more like a Swiss person than me, but he dresses American so it is a dead give away.  Luckily, in public, I keep being mistaken for a Brit (unlike poor Dan who has been really lashed out at for his USA heritage), which is overall less of a problem than being an American.

3) Pretty much all bottled water is sparkling, or “mit gass”

4) It doesn’t look like pictures.  Most of Zurich is a bunch of concrete apartments, trying to fit as much as possible into the smallest space.  It reminds me a lot of London in that way--there are beautiful old buildings, but a lot of the city is just overcrowded and overbusy.  I kind of like it, though.  The bustle reminds me of Toronto.

5) They don’t get married in Switzerland.  People hardly date, but if they do fall in love, they just live together until they die.  People literally cannot comprehend me and my situation when we explain it.  Get married?  And then move somewhere without a job prepared, simply because of a partner?  As one person curtly informed me when I suggested it, “Well, the Junge do not do that here.  Here, we are all supposed to function.”  That has been a little disheartening.  Only that other Jenna at church understood my predicament.

6) The healthcare isn’t free.  Indeed, we will be paying quite a lot for it.

7) There are no taxes on food!  What you see on a pricetag is what you get!  Huzzah!

8) Swiss croissants are called “Gipfeli” and are delicious

9) Swiss German is a cross between half of the world languages, I feel like.  There are signs in French talking about hair stylists, advertisements with English puns, Italian menu items, and weirdly almost-German greetings.  When you meet someone, you say “Gruezi,” and when you bump into someone you say “Ӓxcusi,” and if someone bumps into you, you say “Scho guen” (it’s all good).  None of these things is German, but they are all quite Swiss.