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roseamongroses · 5 years ago

Text

W.A.L: “It’s A Long Way Down To the Bottom of the River” (26)

s u m m a r y

Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.Neither cared much for staying trapped.So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

v i b e s

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some dissociation

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Elliot, Kai, Lauren, Dot

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

---

Ms. Drak’on didn’t bother to look up once Logan had entered her office, her massive tail curled in her lap as she tapped away at her computer.

She was busy, always busy and today she was dealing with the mass freeing of the Sanders and all associated parties. For a curse that exhaustive it wasn’t just a matter of freeing them, but it was a matter of arranging new housing, placing younger children under adoptive care, and arranging for funeral services and preservation efforts for any humans or elders caught in the mix.

Overall the whole ordeal was incredibly profitable despite being horrendously irritating. And while being around so many humans was disturbing, it was ultimately for the best. The Council was this world's new future whether the magic-folk liked it or not and Annaliese would be damned if she let her folk be thrown to the wayside like so many others.

Her initial plan was to be a part of the Sanders, seeing as they were a powerhouse among the folk and everyone knew the Council had an eye on them. It took decades just for her to convince her family to arrange the marriage between her and the Sanders, and many years later for them to forgive her for that failure of an investment. Still, she found away, and when that way fell apart she’d find another and another.

Logan cleared his throat, once then twice, and Annaliese looked up, “Yes?” she said, her long claws tapping impatiently, “Is this related to your studies or the coronation?”

“Uh,” Logan frowned, “No ma’am.”

Annaliese scowled, “Then what is it?”

“I was talking with Patton and Virgil--” Annaliese made a face. She thought he would’ve gotten over them once they had left for the colonies. Logan continued, “And they mentioned that there was a series of break-ins at The Colonies.”

“And?”

“And… I thought it would a good idea for us to investigate,” He reasoned, “Large amounts of their discarded magical waste had been taken before it was properly deactivated and the only person known to experiment with that is The Stranger so I though-”

“Logan,” She cut him off with a sharp smile, “I admire your dedication,”

Logan blinked startled, “Uh, thank you ma’am,”

“You’re welcome,” Ms. Drak’on’s smile stayed unnervingly in place, “So when I say leave it alone, I’m not trying to discourage you--In fact, I say this as a way to encourage you to keep focus,”

“But nearly a thousand ounces of magical residue went missing that’s enough to--”

“Blow up a small nation, yes, yes I’m aware,” She finished, “Someone else will handle it. I’ll arrange for it personally in fact,” she promised, “But you are going to be the heir of the most powerful folk-family. You need to stop worrying about your friends, stop worrying about some no-name shifter and his joke of a mentor, and start thinking about your own future,” Logan still looked unpleased, “Do you really care about this magical residue or do you just want a rematch.”

“I…” Logan swallowed, “There’s going to be backlash…”

“And? They can have their opinions, it won’t change paperwork, ” Annaliese snapped, “You let them and their little prank under your skin once, but I won’t let it happen again,” she pointed at a singular talon at Logan, “You want to be heir, correct?”

Logan’s face hardened, “Yes.”

“In a couple of months you will be,” She said, “So leave it be, unless you’d rather me pick another heir? You have plenty of cousins who would gladly step up,” Logan flinched and at that, she hummed, “So you’ll leave it be?”

“I’ll…” Logan sighed, “I’ll leave it be,”

---

“It looks pretty, Sof,” Roman said, hands curling around the torn up leaves of the flowers she picked.

Sofia batted his hands away from her arrangement on the table, “No it isn’t, it’s ugly and stupid,” she huffed as she picked at the flowers, “Marisol would’ve made them pretty,”

“Marisol isn’t here,” Viviane said, readjusting her flower crown with a careless delight, “Momma said she’s still sleeping,”

“I know that,” Sofia grumbled, though she started messing with her flowers more .

“Sofia?”

Her face scrunched and she ignored Roman.

Roman sighed, knowing that at any second she’d get frustrated and either cry or scream. Probably both. He bit his lip, “Sofia, can you do me a big favor?”

At that she looked up, still scowling and eyes watery, “What?”

“Can you help Ma in the garden?” Roman suggested, pointing out the screen door, “Tami can’t be alone in the house, but Ma’s going to need a lot of help,”

Before Sofia could answer Viviane butted in, “Oh Sofia can’t help, she’d get dirty,”

Sofia’s eyes snapped up full of some equivalent to fury, “Yes I can!”

“No, you can’t!” Viviane stuck her nose up, pointing to herself, “But I can,”

It didn’t take long for that disaster of an argument to spill outside, startling Ma and a dozing Marie. Once they were out of sight, Roman took a cursory glance at the flowers on the table, before oh so innocently dragging a hand over the stems.

It was a bit harder since the flower's roots had long since been ripped off, but that just meant he had to give them a new root system. It didn’t take long after that for dingy petals to brighten into delicate pinks and yellows and for the torn, leaves to wilt and be replaced with stronger, healthier greens.

While he was finishing up, Lauren walked in, looking sweaty--hair tied in a high ponytail as she guzzled down water. She raised an eyebrow, “You’re spoiling them,” she accused.

“I can get you flowers too if you’re jealous,” Roman mocked.

Laruen’s eyes narrowed, “I can pick my own,” she scoffed, though her gaze still lingered on the petals, “Maybe you should take some out for your boy~friend, he’s been mean all day,”

“I mean…” Roman shrugged, “I’d be pissy too if I had to babysit y’all instead of, y’know, kissing me.”

Lauren sighed, turning on her heel, “Leaving now,”

“Love ya too,” Roman said dusting off his hands. He breezed through the living room passing the slumped, heaving forms of Kai and Elliot. He poked his head out of the front door, easily finding Janus in the midst of doing cool-down stretches.

Roman closed the door behind them, a smile creeping on his face, “Darling?” Janus paused mid-stretch but didn’t look up, even as Roman crouched behind them, hugging them from behind. Roman pursed his lips, resting his head on their shoulder, “Janus, you’re ignoring me,” he whined.

“Am I?”

“Yes, yes you are,” Roman said,” Any reason why?”

Janus stiffened, not immediately responding so Roman waited. After a while he finished his stretch, leaning into Roman, “I’m... tired. Just gotta get used to the new training regiment that’s all,”

Roman frowned at that, “Anything I can do?”

“I stink, so a bath would be nice,” Janus sighed.

Roman hummed in agreement, “Can I join?”

“Now,” Janus said, pushing Roman’s face away,

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Roman laughed, giving Janus a little squeeze before standing up, “I’ll run it in a few minutes, try not to stay out here for too long,” He squinted at the setting sun, “It's getting late,”

Janus sighed, “I won’t be long,”

—--

His eyes were burning long after The Stranger gave him another vial. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t inviting, but it clawed into him deep, stoking an internal itch Deceit never knew he had. On one hand, he could feel himself getting stronger, on the other hand he knew that he had to stay vigilant, lest he lose control.

It wouldn’t be like the first time.

Eden and him had taken the vials at the same time, but it hit Eden much harder. He was human, after all. One moment they were laughing. The next moment, well… Janus couldn’t tell you for sure what happened. But he knew something changed when the light jabs became shoves, and the words spilling were no longer loving.

Janus had always admired Eden, so of course, it hurt, but if it had just been about Janus well… maybe they would’ve all went to church that day. But Virgil was Janus’s responsibility and Eden… was replaceable. Eden was loved, he was cherished by his family, but at the end of the day he was just as disposable as Janus.

The only difference was that they at least searched for Eden, even if they didn’t really find him. They mourned for Virgil, they were furious at Eden, but never said a word about Janus.

Janus, Eden, Deceit, Janus. It was a mantra he cycled through constantly, but it was especially dizzying when he was alone with himself. One face wasn’t his own, but it was better than nothing. One embraced his nothingness with an obnoxious flair. And one… was nothing, but Roman said it like it meant something. And the more they said it, the more Janus found himself unwilling to hate it completely.

Janus dunked his head in the bath, not rising again until the stink of memories were drowned by his desperate need for air. Then he scrubbed himself as raw as his lungs were, ignoring how his body ached and not lingering on his scales or the irritated and inflamed scars, but instead focussing on his need to be clean.

Once he was done with that, he untied his hair. It had grown back long, but since Deceit tended to just shift to fix his hair it had gotten tangled and matted. After the temptation to rip his hair out of his skull intensified, he dragged himself out of the tub. Throwing on pants, he trudged back into the room--immediately rummaging through the dresser drawers.

Roman, who was hanging off the bed upside down, sat up, “Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“Scissors,” Janus grumbled, “Or a knife, anything sharp--” He frowned, finding nothing but books and clothes.

“Why would you…” Roman trailed off, “Weren’t you going to try to actually take care of your hair?”

“I did try-- it was taking too long,” Janus said, looking up when Roman sighed, “What?”

“Come here, you big baby,” Roman said, leaving no room for complaint as he pulled out a wider-tooth comb from the side-drawer. Janus complied, flopping on his stomach and burying his head in Roman’s lap.

Roman hummed, fingers kneading their scalp gently, causing Janus to tense, before relaxing, “Long day?”

Janus groaned, voice muffled, “I hate everything,”

Roman had started sectioning Janus’s hair, “I don’t think you hate everything,”

“I hate most things,”

“Eh,”

“...I don’t hate you?”

Roman didn’t say anything to that, starting to pull the comb through Janus’s tangled ends and methodically working his way up. Janus lost himself in the sensation, not quite feeling the pit in his stomach go away, but instead feeling like he had more space to breathe.

At some point Janus had drifted off, only stirring when Roman stopped combing, slowly just rubbing circles in Janus’s scalp. Janus propped his head up on Roman’s lap, vaguely registering that Roman had stole another one of his shirts, “What time is it?”

“Ready to leave me so soon?”

“Mmm…” Janus wrapped an arm around their waist, playing with ends of the shirt, “Not quite,”

“Go--ood,” Roman stuttered, eyes closing as Janus pressed feather-light kisses along their thigh, hand drifting up their shirt, “Aren’t you still tired?”

“A little…” Janus mumbled with a frown, “But with this new schedule I won’t be able to see you as often,” Roman’s face fell, “But... I’m here now,”

“I guess you are…but--” Roman inhaled sharply as Janus’s fangs flashed, “Janus…” Roman squirmed as they sucked at the sensitive skin there.

“Huh, I thought you were fucking with me, but, “ Janus smiled, deliberately twirling a vine creeping over Roman’s hip, “You really do like them?”

“Shut up,” Roman whined into his hands, “Of course I like them,”

Janus paused at that, sitting up, “So if I grew a tail and started craving human flesh?”

Roman snorted, “Babe, I had a tail when I was younger,” Janus shot him a curious look, “It fell off--” he explain shortly, “But the point is I’m not even human, you don’t scare me,” he pushed aside his braids, leaning back against the headboard, “In fact, if you hadn’t noticed I find you very attractive,”

“You find Eden very attractive,”

“Yes, I am a fan,” Roman admitted rolling his eyes, “But I guarantee that you can pick any face you want- even your own, and I’d still be just as eager. And… you wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“We’re partners--” Roman squeaked, cupping Janus’s face, his sappy smile beaming into the kiss.

“Is it later yet?” Janus murmured, feeling how Roman’s skin was getting hotter and hotter, “Cause I really would like to have that talk now--”

There was a knock and they both froze.

Roman was the first to speak, “It's locked--they’ll go away soon,”

Janus frowned at that, “Are you sure it’s the triplets?”

Roman paused for entirely too long with a look entirely too pissy and Janus rolled off the bed despite their protests. Janus wasn’t surprised to see The Stranger when he opened the door, but The Stranger seemed pretty surprised.

The Stranger’s mouth opened, then closed, “Busy?”

Janus scowled, “I’ll be out in a minute,” and he shut the door promptly. He winced upon seeing just how pleased Roman was, “Sorry...”

“Don’t apologize… just,” Roman’s gaze flickered to the door, “Be safe.”

---

Deceit had the decency to feel somewhat guilty when The Stranger handed him another vial. It’s just that it was hard to pinpoint any feelings after they handed him another, and another, and another. It was hard to even remember his name and it wasn’t like The Stranger was inclined to remind him.

Blood soaked and vaguely human-shaped, Deceit stumbled up as the snake-like creature slithered towards him again, fangs bared.

He didn’t have to turn around to see The Stranger’s displeased expression. This what...the 45th? 67th? time that Deceit was attempting this shift, whilst trying to avoid the creature -- the pitch blackness of the sky had long since softened into mocking pinks and swirling purples.

The snake lunged and for a dizzying second, Deceit didn’t even feel as their fangs sank into his skin again, tearing at the flesh. He dropped to his knees, fruitlessly clawing at the beast, feeling his shift sharpen and humanity slick away piece by piece.

The Stranger tossed his drink, the cup disappearing, “Alright, enough,” and like that the creature was gone.

Deceit shuddered, hands still grasping as if he could still feel the creature’s grip around his throat, “Was it...was it good enough?”

The Stranger inclined his head, lowering his glasses to observe the glistening, gold scales dripping from Deceit’s lower half, still radiating the same manic energy the snake had, “No, but it's a start,” he said, pushing his glasses up, “You’re too attached,”

Deceit swallowed, “Attached? Attached to what?”

“To your identity,” The Stranger drawled, “Forget it. It's useless anyway,” his spiked boots kicked up the dirt.

“Identity?” Deceit’s laugh was a choked, guttural thing that caused the pain in his shoulder to flare up,” I don’t have an identity, I’m nothing, remember?”

The Stranger didn’t say anything, an uncomfortable silence stretching, “Same time tomorrow,” he finally said, turning on his heel, “Don’t be late this time,”

When Deceit returned to the house, Lauren took one good look at him before bullying him into getting cleaned up and getting stitches. Deceit let her babble about some T.V show wash over him before he dragged himself to bed.

The next night, it was some underground creature that only appeared when provoked and apparently when you provoked one, the entire nest appeared. It had taken so long to even get a glimpse of them and even longer to shake them all off so by the time he got back to the house it was already mid-day. After Kai stopped yelling at him for missing the sparring sessions they shoved a plate of food in his direction and chucked a water bottle at his head.

On the days that he was nonverbal, they switched to signing without further questioning after Elliot’s telepathy proved to be too overwhelming after a night trapped in a cave with a sound-based creature.

And every day, whenever he could--- he calmed down an upset Roman, letting them check over each new scar and relentlessly curse The Stranger’s name in a surprising amount of languages until they were content that he was in one piece.

Only then did he tell Janus about his day, telling him about the fort the triplets were building outside, about the new book he’s reading, or how he was going to start taking care of Tami and them more often since his mom had finally gotten the paperwork she needed to start working again.

It was odd floating between those moments of normalcy and chaos, but it was odder when they overlapped. Tonight it was less of a creature and more of a gelatin mass that seeped acid.

Deceit wasn’t allowed to attack it back, not unless he replicated it perfectly, but as he was letting that acid bastard swallow him all he could think about was yesterday night.

Roman had just finished Tami’s very specific bedtime routine when he had walked into the room doe eyed and really quiet. After a few attempts at prodding, they quietly admitted that they might want kids when he got older. Which wasn’t surprising, but what did throw Deceit off guard was the fact that they asked for his opinion on the matter. As if Deceit had a future beyond this--and if he did how much of it would be dedicated to being The Stranger’s experiment?

He hadn’t even noticed that the creature was gone until The Stranger snapped in front of his face, annoyed. Deceit staggered up, “Sorry--are we done?”

“Sure, this isn’t working anyway,” The Stranger said cooly and Deceit tensed, “You’re still distracted, you’re still attached,”

“I…” Deceit frowned, “I don’t understand,”

“Of course you don’t,” The Stranger scoffed, “You’re lucky you’re not a complete waste of time or I wouldn’t even bother trying at this point,” he the lollipop cracked in his mouth, “Don’t bother coming back tomorrow,”

Both relief and terror pooled into Deceit’s gut, “What?”

“Don’t get so worked up--” The Stranger scolded, “You get the next three days off and , after that we’re going on a little trip. If it goes as planned, we’ll have everything we ever wanted,”

“And...if it doesn’t go as planned?”

“Well, I'll take a break somewhere blisteringly hot and then try again in the next hundred years,” The Stranger shrugged.

Deceit didn’t have to ask to figure out what would happen to him.

#ts sides #roceit #ts roman #ts deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

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roseamongroses · 5 years ago

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W.A.L: “Fly Me to the Moon” Part One (22)

s u m m a r y:

Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.

Neither cared much for staying trapped.

So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.

Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

v i b e s :

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, minor character death/suicide, repression, cursing,

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

---

“Are the rest of the brats getting ready?” Roman asked, picking up a comb and a jar of moisturizer.

“Uh-- I think so?” Lauren winced sitting back, “I wouldn’t know, Kai’s being… weird,” Roman ran their hand experimentally through the now kinkier coils in her hair, the light tugging of her scalp painfully nostalgic.

She’d always prefered her hair straight, but she never went so long without taking a break. It was mainly luck that she hadn’t had any major heat damage, but even that fear didn’t make the idea any more appealing.

You could say she was avoiding it in a way.

Her mom had always insisted on braiding Lauren’s hair herself, so the act was tangled with her in every way. Doing it by herself now only made her mom’s absence louder, but having Roman here made it better.

“Weird how?” Roman asked, detangling her hair, “Is he getting pissy about getting his ass kicked?”

“No…” She said, bracing herself, “That’s why it's weird. He’s not complaining, he’s avoiding me,” She sighed, feeling strangely annoyed. It wasn’t like she liked the constant arguing, but this was just odd…. Did she do something wrong?

Why does she even care?

Roman’s hands stopped mid braid, “Oh,” he hummed before resuming, “Maybe he’s just in a mood,” he said, a laugh peeking through his tone.

“What?” Lauren demanded.

“Nothing, nothing,” Roman snickered, “I’m just thinking about how pretty you’re going to be in that dress,” he cooed, pinching her cheek and effectively smearing whatever moisturizer he was using all over her cheek.

“Gross,” Lauren scowled to keep the smile from her face, “Anyway you’re too calm about this,” she said, her worry bubbling at the thought of just… walking into Council territory, “Do you really believe Drak’on’s going to play fair?”

It could go a lot of ways.

Logan was fair to a fault, so she wasn’t worried about dirty tricks from him. But he was predictable in a dangerous way. He had a never ending consistency that tended to wear people down. Roman wasn’t as unpredictable as Remus, but he had a similar quality. He couldn’t afford to trust that his body and magic would perform the same way every time, so he had to be creative, and more than often had to run himself ragged.

“Are you worried?” Roman asked, but it was more like an observation.

“You should be,” Lauren grumbled.

“I’m not,” Roman said.

She was oddly comforted by the finality of the promise.

---

Upon opening the letter, they were taken in a flash of light.

They first saw a glittering series of arcs that were almost translucent. It was as if the towering structure was merely ideas carved into the stars, but it solid beneath their feet. Deceit wasn’t sure how he was breathing with the world so far beneath him, with the stars so close.

The Offerings were a series of events, of elaborate ceremonies, of balls. A celebration at it's finest, but preformative grief at its core. Councilmen decked out in elaborate gowns and ancient suits milled inside the glittering gates, magic flowing from people’s tongues as easy as they laughed.

The brats were pretty much gawking, but thankfully they didn’t wander off.

Roman’s face betrayed nothing but unapologetic decadence. Their hair braided high before exploding into a fire of curls and flowers. All signs of exhaustion were wiped clean behind rosy lips and impossibly dark lashes that were stark against his eyes. Roman was in his element to anyone with eyes, but his death grip on Deceit’s arm told another story.

Which to be fair, was expected. They were deep in Councilmen territory, with their invitation only being allowed due to the technicalities of their situation--i.e all the alleged crimes not being directly linked to anyone, but The Stranger-- and Drak’on’s disturbing amount of influence.

Still Deceit knew that wasn’t it, “Roman?” He said, the question hanging in the air between them as they handed off their bags.

“The curse,” Roman sighed, “Even if I have temporary immunity, I keep expecting to...It’s more mental than anything,” he explained, low, “It shouldn’t be a problem, but...forgive me if I’m a bit more clingy,”

“That’s it?” He said scrutinizing them. They'd gotten better at actually vocalizing their limits lately, but Deceit knew he’d be more willing to cover it up in order to not cause a scene.

“E… Darling... tonight will be fine,” Roman promised. He tilted his head, horns catching the light and his eyes having a hungry glint, “You trust me?”

Deceit was breathless, “Something like that.”

---

Virgil stirred the brothy, something, in front of him, mildly impressed by how shiny the utensils were, but mostly getting sick by how rich everything tasted. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to eating “good” food, in fact from what he could remember he was most likely used to it, but there was a different level of luxury here. It was almost irritating.

Actually a lot of things were irritating, the key one being that his supposed date fucked off to schmooze with rich bastards, but the most alarming part of that was that Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Logan at all right now.

It was all duel this and duel that lately. About how this is what he always deserved, how he’ll somehow become better--how everything will become better once he finally puts this to rest and claim his rightful place. Virgil’s beginning to suspect that Logan didn’t even realize how obsessed he was getting with it.

In fact, Virgil suspected that Logan’s always been obsessed with this, but Dr. Picani never let him fixate on that need entirely. Even if Dr. Picani was low-key just as dysfunctional as his Apprentices, the man was disgustingly determined to create a somewhat functional life for them.

But Dr. Picani was gone, even if they found him-- his consciousness had yet to return. All they had now was Ms. Annalise Drak’on, someone who apparently had no issue with feeding Logan’s obsession.

Virgil felt sick.

He stood, not caring about how loudly he dropped the utensils or about the dirty looks sent his way as he pushed his way through the crowd. The band was some pseudo-jazz, a thundering accompaniment to his rising anxiety and the dazzling lights were getting too much and--

His spiraling halted upon catching the faintest blue flash in the corner of his eye. Turning around he met Patton’s eyes. Virgil flinched and for the briefest moment Patton’s brow furrowed, before smoothing into his normal dazed expression, “You’re alone?”

Virgil wanted to scowl, but he couldn’t. He was alone and he wasn't sure how long its been draining away at him.

Patton nodded at his non-response, “You need air,” he said, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. It took a few seconds before Virgil realized he was meant to follow.

Virgil somehow found himself out of the crowd, feeling the cool air first, and the relief of being away from all of those people all at once. Patton was already there leaning against the balcony, the translucent beads of their gown soft against the blue of the distant earth.

Patton turned his head to acknowledge him, “Is this better?”

“I think so,” Virgil sighed, slumping against the balcony, “Uh… thanks, I guess,” Patton laughed, an off colored chirp that normally unnerved Virgil, but now only made him blush, “What?”

“I don’t scare you anymore, do I?” Patton said, covering his mouth.

“I was never--” Virgil winced at the lie, “Was I that obvious?”

“Yes, but…” Patton started, trailing off, “I didn’t mind completely,”

Virgil frowned, “You didn’t mind me being an asshole?”

“I minded,” Patton said, “But at least you didn’t hide it,” he shrugged as if that explained it all, “I knew Logan and Emile cared about me, but… it was like they were afraid to admit that they didn’t always feel safe,”

“...Should we feel safe?’ Virgil said, twisting and untwisting the loose hair.

Patton didn’t respond immediately, tracing the rail, “I wish you could, but I…” he sighed, “Watchdogs aren’t meant to be outside the colonies for long without a bond...we aren’t built for that. When I’m home I can feel-- I’m in control,” he said, “But here, it feels like all I can do is take orders and hope, there’s nothing else there,” His face twisted unnaturally, but his eyes remained blank.

“Why…” Virgil tore his gaze away, “After Remus….Why didn’t you go to Roman?” he asked. It seemed simple, just go to another Sanders, a legal, full magic Sanders--

“I wasn’t in love with Roman,” Patton said, with no theatrics, but the simplicity throbbed with something intense, “Why didn’t you die in the river?”

“I-” Rushing water, blood everywhere,it was only supposed to be a game, it was a game it was a game, it was a game, “I didn’t want to die.”

“You’re lying,” Patton said, matter of fact.

Virgil blew out his cheeks, “I got lucky,” he admitted. Lucky that he wasn’t deemed enough of a threat by the other two. Lucky that the vial seared in his hand instead of in his eyes or down his throat. Lucky that at the end of the day, he thought it was a just game. Something stupid to do before church.

If only he knew that it was The Stranger’s Game he was playing.

“Well...I’m glad you were lucky,” Patton said quietly, “I wouldn’t have met you and I certainly wouldn’t have stayed for as long as I did without you two…”

Virgil’s throat tightened, “I…” he wiped his eyes, “Why do I feel like that’s a goodbye?” he choked out a bitter laugh.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Patton smiled, “You could always visit the colonies,” he said wistfully, and Virgil swore he glowed a little bit brighter, “I might be a bit...different there, but it's a good different,”

“...Can you tell me more about it?” Virgil asked.

Patton did.

He told Virgil about the fountains-- how water dripped like fire, but was icy to the touch. He talked about how young watchdogs burned holes in their cribs and terrorized their families. About the family dinners, with plates overflowing with food--how each story and laugh was never the same.

He told Virgil about how the community grew closer and took care of each other in spite of the stricter regulations. About how they’re even planning to build their own schools instead of relying on council tutors. He told Virgil about his mom and dad, about how they missed him, but understood he wanted to see his friends. He told Virgil about everything he missed and hated and seemed to glow a little bit brighter with each second.

Virgil doesn’t know why, but it felt nice. It sounded nice--talking to Patton was nice in a way that Virgil didn’t even know he missed. It's been awhile since he just...had fun.

The music changed, to something delicate--a soft piano, followed by a low, breathy voice. Patton’s voice trailed off and he closed his eyes swaying to the lullaby.

Virgil asked him for a dance.

#ts sides #roceit #ts deceit #ts janus #ts roman #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

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roseamongroses · 5 years ago

Text

W.A.L: “Devil’s Food” (23)

s u m m a r y

v i b e s

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some dissociation

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Elliot, Kai, Lauren, Dot

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

(18) (19) (20) (21) (22.1) (22.2)

---

“Janus,” Roman slurred his name, half awake and slumped against Deceit.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary by any means, but somehow something was different in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was how their sleep-rough voice was so much more vulnerable, the magic laced in his tone more-so an innocent suggestion than a command.

Or perhaps Deceit was drawn to Roman’s blatant display of trust--how his oversized sleeping shirt was carelessly hiked up revealing how Roman’s freckles grew into swirls and smears that shaped his abdomen into something distinctly inhuman--as if the forest had been branded across their skin. Maybe it was the way Roman’s legs pressed into Deceit--skin a never-ending furnace, maybe...

But none of that was new.

And this--whatever this was, clearly was new because--

“Janus, what time is it?” Roman yawned, arching his back before sighing into the comically large pillows again.

Somehow Deceit found it the most distracting thing in the world. Sleeping with Roman had never been suggestive, at least not in any serious way. And even if Roman had gotten into one of his moods, Deceit was pretty comfortable with ignoring any fleeting attraction he felt.

Then again, it was easy to kill desire when you were constantly reminded why you never deserved it to begin with.

“What?” Roman sniffed, sitting up and pulling the blanket around his shoulders.

“It’s near noon,” Deceit answered instead, “The brats have that competition today...” he eyed Roman cautiously as they seemed to nod off, “Are you good for today?”

“‘Mmm good,” Roman nodded, smile sleepy, “I feel really good,”

Deceit leaned against the headboard, “Are you…” he narrowed his eyes, “drunk?”

“Mmm, my Sanders genes are too strong-- can’t get drunk,” Roman said, slinking back into the bed, “But the room... it’s really quiet here… ” he sighed, “Are you sure we can’t stay in?”

“And do what?” Deceit entertained.

Roman looked up through half-lidded eyes, “I have a few ideas,” he purred before bursting out into snickers.

“I’m waking up the brats,” Deceit said, rolling his eyes when Roman whined in protest, “Attempt to be dressed when I get back,” he slid out of the bed, making his way to the door that connected the rooms.

After gently waking up Elliot and not so gently dragging Lauren and Kai out of the bed, Deceit made his way back to their bedroom. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Roman did indeed get dressed. The simple, white turtleneck elaborate, frilly skirt a stark difference to the military blazer, embroidered with gold from the night before.

While Roman messed with his hair, Deceit inspected the different outfits pulled out for him, “Got any preferences?” he asked, picking at a black dress.

At this point Roman had put his hair up into twin-buns, slicking back his edges, , “Maybe a more traditionally feminine shift?” he mused, turning from the mirror to give Deceit a considering look.

Deceit nodded, letting his features soften and round out, but he kept his hard line of muscles. Pushing the longer hair behind his ear, he tugged off his clothes and picked up the dress, quickly realizing the simple dress had a trail of gold laces and buttons trailing it's spine. Not completely intimidated, Deceit unbuttoned it, but upon sliding the dress on, he realized he wouldn’t be able to reach all of the buttons.

Roman caught on to Deceit’s struggle quick, “Let me,” he said, slipping behind Deceit. His hands reached inside the dress, barely skimming Deceit’s skin as he pulled on some ties on the inside and started lacing Deceit up.

“Why are clothes so complicated,” Deceit complained, keeping his face straight.

Roman pulled the dress taunt, “I mean...” his hand rested on Deceit’s waist as he leaned down slightly, breath brushing Deceit’s ear, “It does look so good on you,”

Deceit shivered, “You…” he cleared his throat, “You’ve been teasing a lot this morning.” he said, keeping his voice steady.

Roman immediately pulled his face away, “Is it a problem?” he asked. Even though he didn’t remove his hand, Deceit knew for a fact that all he had to do was ask and it’d be gone. It’d be so easy, so simple, but--

“No,” Deceit said, “I don't mind….I….I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea,”

Deceit could feel them staring, “...Of course,” Roman finally said after a while, starting to button the dress without further question. Still, something about his tone was too gentle. He was too close and yet, Deceit couldn’t push them away.

He could do so easily before, but now…

Deceit distinctly felt his little wants grow into something too strong to ignore.

---

Compared to other wonders found at The Offerings, the room hosting the competition for the younger Apprentices was oddly mundane. It was a disorienting mixture of too-bright fluorescent lights and the squeaking of sneakers.

Kai rushed past the unassuming attendant holding a clipboard, his energy palatable. Elliot followed after, ducking into the bleachers.

Lauren walked behind the two distractedly talking to Roman, “It’s just so boring, why does there need to be an entire chapter about white symbolism,”

Roman followed after, “I don’t--” he stopped abruptly, clipboard blocking his way.

“Only mentors are allowed to enter,” The attendant said, not looking up.

Deceit stiffened, ignoring Roman’s tightening grip, “Excuse me?”

“I said--” The Attendenet looked up and sputtered, wide-eyed, “Uh- You’re the Heir,”

“Yes, yes he is,” Lauren said, eyes narrowed, “Can they come in now? It's starting soon”

The Attendant ignored her, “I’m sorry, sir,“ he didn’t sound sorry, but at least he had the decency to sound afraid, “I still can’t let you in unless you’re a mentor and um… you’re not a mentor. ”

Roman fixed on a polite smile, “Can I ask why?”

“No you can’t--” The attendant froze. Roman wasn’t sure what Deceit did, but it certainly got the attendant to talk, “Uh, sorry it's just-- it’s to prevent councilmen from poaching on each other’s Apprentices-- I really can’t let you in. It ends at 5 though, so you can come back then?” the words rushed out all at once, as they shrunk behind their clipboard.

“Of course,” Roman said, eyes redirecting to Lauren, “Be good.”

“Sure,” Lauren grumbled, making her way to the bleachers.

Seeing that Lauren found Elliot, Roman tugged Deceit along back to the staircase.

“What a shame,” Roman sighed, “I wanted to see if Kai got himself kicked out,”

“I could convince him to let us in,” Deceit said.

“We wouldn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention,” Roman retorted, head conveniently tilted in the direction of a video-only security camera, “Plus, you’re dead, remember?”

“That only means I’d be harder to trace,” Deceit said, contemplatively and Roman laughed.

The two wandered around, peeking into rooms that ranged from sprawling parks to more… intimate spaces. Roman had only vaguely mentioned what he was looking for, but Deceit was content with exploring.

Exploring the shape of Roman’s hand in his, their slender fingers light to the touch and unnaturally smooth. Exploring how their pin-straight posture hardly faltered and how even their most graceless steps still had poise. How in the light their eyes weren’t simply silver, but always had a barely perceptible shifting shimmer of colors. And his lips-- Deceit could never get their lips right.

He could never get Roman right, at least not by himself. It was always evasive, something more ethereal then simply copying the paleness in their eyes and the dimples in their smile.

The one time he’d gotten close was when he was prepping for the Duel. Roman spent most of the night correcting Deceit’s errors until he could replicate every feature with near perfection. He remembered how Roman coaxed his magic into something far too significant for Deceit to even imagine and how this mimicked magic burned deep, an endless coil that was never satisfied.

Roman had been worried about how long Deceit could handle maintaining the illusion, Deceit had been worried if he’d ever wanted to stop.

It hadn’t been the first time he had been lost in the allure of becoming, but this was different. Beforehand, it was a cheap trick The Stranger taught them. A throwaway spell, a stupid game if you will. Switch faces, switch lives, and for a little while, Deceit got to play the prized son, adopted from the streets and raised with love while Eden got to play at being invisible.

Even when those damn vials got involved, it never felt this dangerous. Deceit understood that now. By himself, he could take the shape, he could take it all eventually--the voice, its cadence and accent, how they smile, how they laugh. But Roman’s influence made the illusion real--he made it believable with little corrections that stood as commands themselves.

They worked well together. Too well.

The Stranger had wanted them to be close. That asshole had always wanted Deceit to keep an eye on Roman, to tend to Roman, as if trying to enforce control over something that didn’t need to be controlled. It was too intentional and Deceit didn’t like that one bit.

Deceit would uphold his part of the agreement of course. He’d be The Stranger’s glorified dog, who kneels and growls when told, who lies until there’s nothing left. But that didn’t mean he had to let The Stranger influence his relationship, even if they ended up at the same place in the end.

It scared him a lot; this desire, this love, but what scared him more was the prospect of it no longer being his to choose.

---

Roman had found the library with a few hours to spare before the competition ended. He had wandered away from Janus after awhile, scanning titles in the Foreign Language section with a critical gaze.

He’d been trying to work out Janus’s accent for a while now. Sure he could just ask, but Roman liked the thrill of investigation and he loved the thrill of being right.

Right now he figured that Janus had lived in Italy for a little while-- seeing as whenever they spoke Spanish it was always just a little off in either vocabulary or how they pronounced words. Roman also suspected a few others like Romanian and German, but right now he was looking into Slavic languages.

He spotted a set of translation books near the top shelf and pulled up a chair--and when that wasn’t enough, he stacked another chair on top of that chair. He wasn’t short but compared to other Drak’on’s you could argue he was stunted. Still, even with his heels and the chairs the bookshelves in this library were freakishly big.

Roman briefly considered untucking his shirt so his wings could help out, but before that could be a thing he stumbled trying to catch the book while simultaneously forgetting to keep his balance. However, before Roman hit the ground two steady hands caught his waist.

“Can’t I leave you alone for two minutes?” Janus murmured, raising an eyebrow.

Roman grinned sheepish, leaning back against their chest, “It isn’t recommended,” he said half dazed. “You can…” Roman squirmed in their grip, “You can let me go now,”

“I’ll consider it,”.

“What do you mean you’ll--” Roman squawked as Janus scooped him up, “Janus,” Roman pouted, “Lemme goo-,”

“I thought you liked being carried?” Janus mused, making his way down the aisle.

“I…” Roman slumped defeated, “Shut up,” he groaned, pointedly watching the carpet as Janus carried them past the rows and rows of books to a smaller alcove nestled in the back. Upon seeing the stack of books already there, Roman squirmed out of Janus’s shoulder falling into the pile of pillows, “Aw you picked out my favorites,”

Janus settled next to Roman, “You gave me a list,” he said, dry.

Roman thumbed the spine of Alice in Wonderland, “You follow directions wonderfully,” he shrugged, “Did you see anything you liked?”

“I don’t read for fun,”

Roman blew out his cheeks, “I never said it had to be a book,” he huffed, leaning against Janus’s shoulder, “There’s plenty of stuff around here, I’m sure you could find something for a souvenir,”

Janus frowned, “....Souvenir?” he echoed.

Roman paused, briefly confused before realization hit, “A keepsake, memento if you will,” he tried to articulate, “Something... physical to remember this place.” Janus nodded in understanding, “So did you have anything in mind…?”

For a split second, Janus’s face was unbearably soft before it smoothed into hardened resolve, “I do,” he said, vaguely, but before Roman could question them further, he had grasped Roman’s chin, drawing their full attention, “Kiss me?”

Roman’s mind short-circuited, “What…” he frowned, “ Can you what?”

“I want to kiss you,” Janus said slowly, “Is that okay?”

“Yes…” Roman stuttered, “Of course it is, but…” he didn’t want to ask, but he had to, “Would it just be a one-time thing? I’d still care about you, but I don’t think I could..it’d be…”

Too much.

Janus’s answer was to close the distance.

The kiss was tentative-- brief, but terribly gentle, “I want this,” he promised, brushing a stray curl from Roman’s face, “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I want you, I enjoy being with you. I wouldn’t play with that.”

“Then…” Roman bit his lip, ”Why now?” he asked, voice small, “I thought you couldn’t…”

“I’m not used to being wanted,” Janus admitted, and Roman looked up startled, “And when I was wanted it never meant something good, it still doesn’t, but...” he sighed, “Before….It was easy. I could walk away from everything and not have any reason to go back, but,” He blushed, “I can’t walk away now and I certainly can’t pretend everything I feel is platonic I just...I want to choose you. Again and again and again.”

Roman didn’t say anything for a while.

Roman’s face was one of quiet contemplation that slowly melted into a cat-like satisfaction as he leaned in close, fingers hooking into the top of Janus’s dress as he pulled him into a kiss. He kissed Janus like the world was going to end and Janus returned the favor, letting the burning wrap around him, not caring if they ever let go.

And when Roman finally did, breathing heavy with smudged lipstick and ruddy cheeks, Janus kissed him again. And again. And again. And again.

#ts sides #roceit #ts roman #ts deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

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roseamongroses · 4 years ago

Text

W.A.L: (31) “The Last Ending” (iii)

s u m m a r y

v i b e s

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some dissociation

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Elliot, Kai, Lauren, Dot

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

---

Janus was drowning.

He was drowning in the morning caresses of his mother coming in from a late night of work. He was drowning in the jeers, the shouts, in the lustful looks as he marched her coffin into the woods, hoping that no one would follow him.

He was drowning in envy seeing someone who looked like him, with tanned skin and light eyes, who was loved and cared by the entire village just because their mom was white. He was drowning in blood, in anger, in layer after layer of lies.

So when he broke the surface and inhaled his first breath of air, it was intoxicating. He let the red fill his vision, feeling something greater then himself curl about his figure, asking him questions he didn’t know the answer to, telling him secrets he would never understand.

The Goddesses felt like everything good. And he let it seep into him, he felt them fill in the empty patches of himself and push air into every crevice of himself until he was light. The tangle of his heartache loosened, and become uncomplicated and unneeded. Memories of his mother’s grave were swept away. He felt his mother’s face fade away piece by piece. He saw the village's scowls whiten, so bright, so happy and unfeeling, not quite sure what was missing.

He heard singing somewhere as he swam farther away from the water’s surface into the burning embrace of the Goddesses. He felt caresses that no longer stung, but the hands were foreign and strange against his hair. He heard singing somewhere and felt nothing. He embodied everything, he became all things and could create all things, and yet the warmth seemed to be a blanket of indifference.

He felt his scales smooth away blank, and his form melt into something indistinguishable, knowing that he at that moment would become nothing.

Janus plunged his head beneath the river’s surface, taking that snatch of air and swimming deeper. He felt the smoothness wilt away to jagged scales and scarred skin, his teeth sharpened, and eyes became slitted, with a dangerous glow. He felt the pain of loss, of jealousy, the fear of losing love.

Those memories prickled against his skin as he swam deeper and soon enough he remembered the sunday morning games by the river, before games became deadly. He remembered making faces behind the priest's back. He remembered warm loaves of bread and kisses that tasted of ripe berries. He remembered hands that stroked his hair and how it was so loving and so painful--

The further he swam away from the Goddess, the more his body twisted. The dread pooling into his stomach and the anger holding his heart tight, defensive and ready to strike.

He kept swimming and he could hear singing from here. He kept swimming, even when everything disgusting, everything he hated seemed to bubble up and swallow him whole because he knew everything wonderful and everything loving would come back eventually. He could hear Roman singing from here. He could hear someone else sing along.

Janus decided he would be okay.

He let the disgusting magic circle him. It crackled under his skin, an electric fire in his heart that caused Roman’s song to fade.

He heard a cackle erupt from deep within himself.

Janus would be okay.

---

The Stranger snapped out of his daze, immediately zeroing in on the vessel. Deceit stood, formless, on two legs in front of The Tree. Unmoving even as the branches retreated back to the tree, snaking across their feet and shriveling black.

It would be another century before that tree grew back.

The Stranger wouldn't’ be able to tell if it worked or not until Deceit took a shape. The fact that they didn’t immediately combust was a good sign, but there is a good chance that he couldn’t reach the goddesses in time for the transfer--and at that point even their body would become useless. He saw Deceit slowly take shape, broad shoulders losing muscle, scales smoothing away to deep brown skin. When their hair grew into bouncing, scarlet curls, The Stranger recognized what was happening, and apparently so did Roman.

Roman stood, now unaffected, a mirth coloring his face .

“What did you do,” The Stranger’s eyes narrowed, as he already thumbed at his phone for Dot to carry out with their mission.

“I sang for you,” Roman said, eyes still light with amusement, “And I woke up the goddesses,” he continued, “He must have found someone else to bring back,”

“But you’re right here,” The Stranger said, really, really not enjoying where this is going, “That tree connects to where all magic folk goes when they die, there’s no way he could take on your form from that,”

“That,” Roman’s shoulders shook, their smile wild,, “That isn’t me,” he said.

Deceit turned and The Stranger at first didn’t understand what Roman meant. They were a perfect replica of Roman, from the freckles to the eyes. But then he understood. From a white streaked curl, to the mustache that framed a pointed smile.

That was definitely a Sanders and it had to be a second born--

Deceit eyes settled cruelly on The Stranger, two pairs of horned wings flaring behind.

That wasn’t Roman.

That was Remus.

The Stranger lunged for Roman, the curse crackling in his hand, but clawed hands snatched him--pulling him into the air. Remus’s wings were deafening, the air a tunnel that made Roman’s shouting below seem faint. The Stranger felt his air being choked, but he didn’t need air, he was immortal and not even demigods could change that.

The Stranger managed a wheezed laugh, “You idiot,” he felt Remus’s second pair of arms unfurl from their spine and wrap tight around their throat, “You’re made of the same shit he is,” he spat, letting the curse spread, a white bile erupting from his throat and racing up Remus’s arms.

If only he could see Roman’s face. It was what The Stranger deserved after all this bullshit, to see that pathetic prince’s face when he realized that it wouldn’t work out for him. To see that he was just as unlovable as the rest of the world.

“You’re wrong,” Remus said, his voice splintering through the air--somehow both shrill and booming, “You see my brother and I are very different people,” he said, his flesh bubbling and blistering, he tightened his grip, “Ask me how,” he said, sing song.

“How-” The Stranger blurted, words no longer his own.

“ You see, Roman is so in love with living, even when his body breaks down, even when they tell him it won’t be long or that he will never be strong, he loves living and life loves him,” Remus said, a thoughtful look overcoming him, as he pulled his face away from the Stranger to take one more look at Roman’s shrinking form below, “I however,” he yanked the Stranger back up to face him, “I’m already dead. I could care less if I die again,” he laughed, “And I certainly don’t care who I have to bring with me. “

At that, Remus’s face splintered open.

Deceit was still asleep as Remus's magic left him. It's putrid green, still partially corrupted with the curse as it lunged for The Stranger’s face.

Everything went white.

The Stranger was finally at peace.

#ts sides #ts sanders sides #roceit #ts roman #ts deceit #ts janus #roman sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

0 notes

roseamongroses · 4 years ago

Text

W.A.L: (30) “The Last Ending” (ii)

s u m m a r y

v i b e s

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some dissociation

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Elliot, Kai, Lauren, Dot

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

Roman picked himself up slowly, feeling those ghostly fingers dig into his skin, dragging closer and closer to his-- He swallowed thick, shaking off that train of thought. It wasn’t that bad. The only proof of what had happened was the loss of sensation around his shoulders. It was a minor blessing that he couldn’t see it. Somehow he knew The Stranger wasn’t lying when he said it was permanent, but for now Roman needed to believe that it wasn’t.

He walked towards Janus, feeling something close to relief as he slid against the wall next to them tucked underneath their still chained hands.

“Are you…” Janus asked, craning his head to better see Roman.

“I’m fine,” Roman mumbled, pressing his face into their side, hands just barely tracing the now healed wounds. Janus managed something comparable to a snort and Roman forced a laugh, wincing at how brittle his voice sounded, “Like you're one to talk,”

“How are you really?”

“I’m fine as this shit can be,” Roman snapped, still trying to will those fingers away from his mind with Janus’s terrible, disgusting, but wonderfully safe stench,” We can still figure a way out of here, especially since that dumbass left us in here alone so we should get you out of those chains first and formos--”

“Roman,”

“What--I’m fine Janus, he didn’t put that curse on me, I’m fine,”

“He touched you.”

“I…” Roman swallowed, “It wasn’t a big deal, you heard him--Sanders are just sensitive--”

“Yes, I know --He tried to touch your wings Roman,”

“He does shitty things, but... some shitty things are worse than others I--” Even though Janus couldn’t see their face he could hear their pain, “He’s trying to wipe out everything I think almost getting a---” Roman stuttered on the word. He couldn’t even say it. It would be too real if he did.

“We need to get you out of those chains,” Roman finally mumbled, reaching for the metal, “--and a plan--I don’t even know how close midnight is what if--”

“We’re not going to do anything,” Janus said.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not going to try to escape,” Janus said more resolutely, shaking his hair out of his eyes to meet Roman’s gaze squarely.

“You’re not suggesting we give up,” Roman hissed, “I’m not letting you die and I’m certainly not letting that facist fucking weirdo--”

“Roman,” Janus said and Roman quieted, “I’m not saying that I’m just...Right now we can’t do anything,”

“But right now is all we have,”

“I know but…” Janus knew time was a luxury, but right now he felt like the time to rest was a necessity, “I’ll think of something, I promise. But right now I don’t think either of us are in a good enough state to do anything that won’t get us killed,”

“But…” Roman’s forehead pressed against Janus’s, defeated as his hands cradling their cheek, “I don’t like this,”

“Please... do whatever he says tomorrow,” Janus mumbled, letting their breathes sync with his, “I’m not planning on dying, but I need to make sure you get out--just in case it does go to shit,”

Roman sighed, lips pressing lightly against their cheek, “You’re an asshole,” he said, against their skin, “You’re a self-sacrificial asshole and if you think I’ll just leave you,”

“It's not leaving, it's not being distracting,” Janus retorted, “He knows he can use you to get me to do what he wants,”

“Am I...” Roman’s face flitted between pleased and distressed, “Do I distract you that much?” Definitely pleased.

Janus didn’t answer that, knowing that it was the closest thing to agreement he’d get from Roman. Instead, Janus twisted his face quick, meeting Roman’s lips. Janus ignored his sore body as Roman braced himself against his chest, the gold scales pliable under their warmth. Roman’s hand had slipped from Janus’ hair to cradle his face, not quite touching the scales there. And Janus realized that he didn’t care anymore if they did.

It was one of many desperate, tired kisses.

---

It was Larry who had entered the cell to take off Deceit’s chains.

His cheerful demeanor dampened as he unwinded the blood soaked, metal cuffs from around Janus’s wrists, only murmuring apologies when patting the wounds down with alcohol and tightly wrapping them.

When Larry was finally done, Janus sagged all at once, only being caught by Larry’s steady hands. Janus wasn’t sure if he was just unused to his tail or if his body forgot how to sit upright all together. Larry had only left to let Roman change into some actual clothes, but quickly materialized to lead them to the ceremony.

The tomb was silent, it always was silent, but Janus could feel the Misrae’s presences’ pushing against his mind. Some were curious, some seem frantic, some seemed…. tired. As if they’ve seen this before and know that nothing would stop the Stranger from attempting it again.

Janus distantly wondered about all the shifters who’ve walked down this hall before.

Some who looked and spoke like him with strange accents and jagged scales, some who forgo language completely--embraced their anonymity and lose themselves to the shadows, those with feathers that glittered in the sun and voices that always seemed familiar. Theshifters who’ve never left their family, the shifters who had no choice but to leave, so they could survive.

Were they scared? Did they fight or did they take one look at all the promises laid out before them and simply submitted themselves?

Was it the best alternative? Was it the only alternative? Did they feel that rising dread towards the future that only seemed to quiet with a few simple, distant promises, “it’ll all be over, it'll all be gone, you will not suffer, you will grow beyond suffering, you will be more,”

Janus wasn’t sure exactly when this promise of eternal peace, of unfathomable power, became so menacing. He didn’t know when that outstretched hand stretched into claws.

He had been so afraid of becoming a monster that he became willing prey.

Larry had led the two of them down the winding halls of the tomb until the path widened and they reached a gaping cave. Snatches of light seemed to filter from the rocks, making each drop of water glisten, and the muddied path before them shine of clean marble.

“You’re late,” The Stranger said, not looking up as he scanned through some papers.

Janus squinted in the light, a sharp pain encroaching behind his eyes. He tried not to stumble when Larry let go of him. Uneasily, Janus slithered forward towards the center of the room, feeling Roman close by.

The Stranger took a step back, revealing the strange sight behind him.

The rock at the center of the tomb was rubble and twisted amongst it was a single tree. A tree of paling grey that seemed to shine just as much as it waned. The weight of it’s branch thich with thin leaves and dotting, white fruit.

Roman froze, dropping to his knees at once.

At that The Stranger smiled, “So the Sanders does have manners,” he mused, looking up from the papers, “Don’t worry hun it takes a bit getting used to,”

“What’s…?” Janus frowned, glancing down.

Roman caught his eye and gave a grimace, “You don’t feel it?” he said and Janus recognized the tone. It was the tone Roman used when he didn’t want to make assumptions, but was pretty sure he was right. It was the tone Roman used when Janus fascinated him, it was the tone Roman used when Janus concerned him in all the ways that were good.

“Of course he doesn’t,” The Stranger rolled his eyes, “Did you even listen to a word of my plan you im--”

“Yeah, yeah genocide, I got it,” Roman bit back, head still down, hands flat on the ground beside his thigh.

The Stranger’s cool smile seemed to have frozen, the page tight in his hand, “Genoicde is such a human word--”

The cave splintered under Roman’s hands, “Last time I checked, you are human you di-”

“Roman,” Janus pleaded, and Roman fell silent.

“Well, well, well,” The Stranger asked, amused, “You've trained him. I’m almost impressed,”

Janus schooled his expression, forcing himself to look away from Roman, “He respects my decision,” he said evenly.

“So he does,” The Stranger muttered, quickly becoming disinterested. He picked out a page out of the stack of papers, letting the rest fall useless to the ground as he shoved the page in Roman’s face, “Sing,” he said.

Roman raised his head as if it laboured him, curls falling painstakingly slow to the side, and his hand trembling as he grasped the page between his fingertips.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Sing,” The Stranger snapped.

And Roman did, clumsily, in a broken mismatch of spanish that seemed to cause trembling to move up to their shoulders.

The Stranger only grew more impatient, “In. English.”

Roman whimpered and Janus could imagine how their chest shuddered trying to keep it all in, trying to keep the tightness in his throat locked away, hoping the tears laid dormant in his eyes. How their eyes would cloud and their skin would burn in protest.

Janus forced himself to stay still. He had to betray Roman once more, he had to turn away only once more. If he did turn around, if he did turn to them, he knew he’d get desperate to make Roman okay again. But if he got desperate then it wasn’t guaranteed they’d both be okay together.

“Roman,” Janus spoke, words thick on his tongue, “Please sing,”

Roman cursed and while the silence that followed was thick with The Stranger's agitation, soon enough Roman’s sniffles quieted.

Roman took a breath.

And sang.

---

A Sander’s song was a lullaby, it was a wake-up call, it was the cold distance between stars and the lights that promised you a home.

It said look up, come here, I am waiting for you.

I miss you.

Follow me--take my hand, stay a little while longer, kiss me a little harder.

Let my warmth hold you until you are well rested again.

The lullaby tamed the tomb’s thunderous presence, all the prying minds of the Misrae now gone, even the Stranger looked a little lost.

In this thoughtful daze, the silver tree unfurled.

It’s lanky branches didn’t shoot up, instead the branches to the ground, an intricate pattern that covered the walls and floor. Most of its silver fruit now shriveled and dusty.

Only one dripping fruit remained, it's molten red calling.

Janus slithered across the tangle of branches, Roman’s voice a distant hum that seemed to circle his neck and bind his throat. As if saying “I am here, I will keep you a float”

Janus plucked the fruit, crushing it in his hands and letting the red drip freely as he raised it above his head and opened his mouth for a taste.

#ts sides #ts sanders sides #roceit #ts roman #ts deceit #ts janus #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #janus sanders #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

0 notes

roseamongroses · 4 years ago

Text

W.A.L: (29) “The Last Ending” (i)

s u m m a r y

Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins. Neither cared much for staying trapped. So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no. Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

v i b e s

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some dissociation

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Elliot, Kai, Lauren, Dot

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

A story begins separately, each person in their own bubble, their own path. So when these paths finally do meet, they collide, and it is just as disastrous as expected.

Dot; The Favorite.

She was separated from the Aleseners with no way home and the threat of the council hanging over her. The Old Man found her first and instead of becoming a specimen, she became the daughter he never had--and he became the dad she could never stay with. The Old man had given everything up for her and... she still left.

Emile; The Kiss-Ass.

He was assigned to be the Old Man’s apprentice as soon as he was born and was raised with a calculated warmth. The Old Man understood Emile's purpose was not only as his student but as the council’s informant and his eventual replacement.

And finally, The Stranger; The Fuck Up.

Found who knows where doing who knows what with an affinity towards crude, trickers magic, despite the overwhelming amount of humanity pumping through his veins. His appearance was neither pleasant nor planned, but that Old Man did work hard and The Stranger did attempt to not be a hardass. For awhile their charade worked and they were almost like a family. But this family lived a long time and sometimes, trying isn’t enough.

. The Favorite went away to be with their real family, The Kiss-ass continued their path to the top, and The Fuck up was left behind.

The Stranger wasn’t surprised when he was inevitably left to his own devices. He was considered too cruel, too human, too much to handle, yet too good to let go. But with no family, nor purpose, no pieces to put together, The Stranger had realized despite all the excuses given to him, he was really nothing.

---

Roman woke up with the unpleasant sensation of hands wrapped around his throat and opened his eyes to The Stranger . Hands wrapped around Roman’s throat. The action itself wasn’t particularly alarming seeing as Roman didn’t have lungs in the human sense of the word, but the audacity of it all was enough for him to see red.

The Stranger leaned in, teeth bared to reveal all the broken bits of candy and plaque, “What did you do,” he growled, and Roman writhed--knowing that his skin must’ve been blistering under The Stranger’s palm--yet The Stranger did not seem phased, eyes only narrowing.

“I didn’t do shit,” Roman said pleasantly, in fact he may have said it with a smile, because the grip on his throat only seemed to tighten.

“Sanders,” The Stranger’s voice warned, “I swear if yo--”

“What do you think you’re doing,” Dot hissed standing at the door and The Stranger flinched at the unmistakable accusation, “You promised,”

The Stranger ignored Roman’s smug look , “We were talking,”

Dot’s flat look only became flatter, “I’m aware that humans experience moment’s of rashness,” her words rolled thick with her accent, just barely slipping into her native tongue, “But that is crude and entirely counter-productive,” she pulled him into the makeshift hallway, shutting the door behind them.

The Stranger sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair, “He’s trying to sabotage me,” he scowled, “And it isn’t like it can kill him,”

Dot crossed her arms, “You need his voice for the spell to have any effect at all--”

The Stranger’s frown deepened, “I’m aware, he’s just--”

“He’s trying to get under your skin, ignore it,”

“That’s easy for you to say,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Stranger shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark, trench coat, “You don’t have any emotions, you don’t care,” he pulled a lollipop from his pocket, popping it into his mouth, “You get everything and you’re indifferent to it, “

Dot opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, “Are you still not over it?”

“I am over it,” The Stranger gritted, “It’s just-just,” he bit down on the lollipop hard, the sudden crunch of sour overpowering the ever festering emotions, “Forget it,”

“No I won’t,” She stepped in front of him, blocking his escape, “What is this about? You’re making stupid mistakes and you don’t just make stupid mistakes, you self destruct. ”

“It doesn’t matter, but...I need this Dot,” The Stranger admitted, feeling no relief from the thick pressure tight around his heart and winding about my lungs, “I‘ve never been this close to getting anything--I don’t get picked and you know this and that fucking Sanders--” he spat the lolipop stick, “He’s ruining everything. I don’t know what he told that piece of shit shifter, but--”

“Hey…” Dot’s wings wrapped about The Stranger’s waist, “Find a different way,” she suggested softly,” “I know it's harder and I know you want this power, but... try? It might be harder, but I just want to see you happy again,”

The Stranger’s expression was a grim acceptance, “And I…” he shook his head, “I’m sure you’ll see the Old Man soon, too,”

At that Dot’s indifferent expression brightened, as if she was almost human. And in that moment The Stranger felt at peace with his lie, he felt no vitriol to reveal the Old Man’s death nor any guilt.

He felt content that eventually she’d feel his pain. He was assured that eventually everyone would feel his pain and then with a wave of his hand it would all be gone.

Everything would be destroyed and at last be at peace.

---

Roman was not-too subtly eavesdropping when the Stranger bust back inside. Roman made some attempt to look busy studying the ancient text in front of him, but The Stranger didn’t look convinced--nor did he look irritated.

Roman gripped his hand tight, forcing it not to fidget as he watched the man calmly close the door behind him, pulling down their sunglasses, “You need to get changed,” The Stranger said, unceremoniously pulling a long white robe from thin air and tossing it at Roman,“Change.”

“Or wh--” Whatever snide comment died on Roman’s lips as he handled the borderline sheer fabric, “What...but what about my…”

“Is there a problem Sanders?”

Roman’s fingers clutched the fabric tight, “You can’t be serious,”

“You don’t have a choice, remember?” The Stranger hummed.

“I…” Roman balled his hands into fist, “Fine,”

---

Janus knew the Stranger entered the room without even hearing him arrive.

It was a second sense in a way--the ability to just understand when you had fucked up by the slightest twitch of a frown or change in the air. To survive you needed to recognize these changes quickly and hope to god that if you couldn’t run fast enough, you could grovel.

Janus stayed silent instead. Roman’s plan, Roman’s easy words slipping over his skin and soothing his aches and quieting cries. He just had to lie his ass off.

He had to buy time.

“Deceit,” The Stranger hissed, words slapping Janus across the face, “Look at me I talk to you,” he said, hand jerking Janus’s face up, unphased when it slammed against the wall, “It's time for your lessons,”

“What...lessons?”Janus blinked back the tears welling in his eyes, letting the pain wash away--it was happening to someone else--he was somewhere else.

The Stranger didn’t seem to hear him, “You’re familiar with a decent range of creatures, however, you do need more practice handling more…” He turned, making a hand motion and Janus’s heart dropped, “Advanced magic folk,”

Janus didn’t know how he spoke, but he did, “I…” his voice was cracked, barely audible, but suddenly Janus felt incredibly present and presently wanted his hand around the Stranger’s throat, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing,”

“You’re lesson of course,” The Stranger’s grip on Roman’s wrist tightened, yanking them to his side, “You want to make-believe human, fine, we’ll just have to...jump start your magic again,” He said, catching Roman’s chin and forcing them to look at them, “And the best way to do that--other than a watchdog, is a Sanders. Isn’t that right, Roman,”

Roman’s face stayed pinch tight, tears welling in the corners of their eyes but never spilling. The Stranger made a face letting Roman go and pushing them onto a stool.

Roman stumbled, not looking up, not looking at The Stranger, not even looking at Janus, as they pulled the near, sheer robe tighter around them.

Perfectly aware of Roman’s distress, The Stranger continued unphased, “As you probably gathered, Sanders, particularly the Sanders family are well known not only for their manipulation,” The Stranger said, smiling brighter when Roman recoiled at the word, “But for their sensitivity as well. They’re notoriously strict about their modesty and restricting all outside contact. Some think it’s purely ceremonial, but according the legend, their human skins were a gift from the goddesses and their true forms can be overwhelmed by something as simple as sunlight --”

“The point,” Janus spat.

The Stranger froze at that, unnatural smile not wavering as he clamped down on Roman’s shoulder, “The point is you useless shit, is that they weren’t built for this world. His skin, this body it's all a fragile, perfect, facade so he won’t scare off humans ,” he said, pulling the fabric past Roman’s shoulder, revealing the dark swirls and freckles.

“Stop it…” Roman whimpered, curling into himself.

The Stranger ignored him, “Whatever you’ve learned about this form, is useless and will not bring us any closer to cultivating a vessel for Salvation,” he dragged a finger along Roman’s neck, nail’s looking sharper than usual, “Thankfully, the curse is a fantastic little tool because it brings up everything pure and true, burying that pesky humanity and leaving them as what they are intended to be. Vessels for magic. Sadly... I don’t have access to that curse. But I’ve whipped up something a bit more experimental...even if it is possibly more painful, permanent even.” he said wistfully, digging into their shoulders, not leaving a bruise or a bump, but--

Roman jerked away, shaking, and Janus saw the freckles and swirls be brightened, no longer an earth rich brown, but becoming dustier. As if white flakes were coating Roman’s shoulder’s with each tear that slipped down his face.

“Stop, stop, stop it,” Roman sniffed as The Stranger’s little finger trailed the curse around his neck and down his spine, closer and closer to--god Roman’s wings--

Dece-Janus doesn’t know what sound he made, but The Stranger stopped the bastard's smile dropping into cold satisfaction at the sight of his vessel. The Stranger pulled back his hand and Roman curled into himself all at once, sobs wracking his entire body. The Stranger nodded, “The ceremony begins at midnight,” he said, leaving the room with a skip in his step.

Janus had saved Roman from being taken from him again. Deceit had failed Roman, failed the plan, and might never see them again after today.

He didn’t need a mirror to know the ugly look he had adopted, he could feel all remnants of humanity leave him as nothing but this...thing.

A monster.

Fingers thickened, nails more like talons, scales jutting like crystalized feathers from his skin, and his body elongated stretched out, his legs indiscernible from one another. And his face...he didn’t even want to think about it.

He didn’t.

Yet with the room's silence, heavy with the goddesses' presence, heavy with everything he tried to be but couldn’t he jus…

Roman’s crying quieted into sniffles after a while. Janus doesn’t know how long a while was, it could’ve been minutes after The Stranger left, it could’ve been hours.

All that mattered was that when Roman sat up, wiping away his tears, he smiled.

As if seeing Janus alive was enough for now.

----

The Stranger could feel Dot’s glare when he entered the room, “Ceremony begins at midnight--” he said, pulling on gloves and unlatching a crate, “I’ll need you to run a few short errands after you teach Roman the song,”

“What did you do?” Dot said.

“What needed to be done of course,” The Stranger shrugged, carefully picking up the pages of the ancient text from the crate and placing it on the table, “Not a hair on his head was harmed and the vessel is back of track,”

“Why are you lying,” Dot hissed, “I could hear him crying, we could all hear him crying,” It wasn’t even literal. It was a throbbing panic that seemed to shake the entire tomb at once. The Misrae were practically thrown into a frenzy and Dot--

“We?” The Stranger echoed, face furrowing, “Oh yeah, forgot about his attention seeking quality, huh. That might be a problem.” he said, closing the crate, and pulling the gloves off with a snap, “Can’t have any other creatures waking up before the ceremony or worst--alert The Council to his whereabouts…”

“You’re missing the point,” Dot’s wings seem to get bigger, “Whatever you did--you could’ve traumatized him--”

“Oh so now you’re worried about our little prince being traumatized?” The Stranger sneered, “Honestly pick a side a this point,”

“What--” Dot inhaled, “I did pick a side, I’m here to support you it's just--”

“It's just what?” The Stranger said, sing a song, “Am I no longer interesting to you?”

“I…” Dot folded her arms, “I’m doing this as a favor to the Old Man--I doing it to protect you,” she said, ignoring The Stranger’s scoff, “You’ve been alone for too long and I’m making the choice to care about you even after all the shit you’ve done. You deserve at least that. So please respect the fact that I still have boundaries,”

“As flimsy as your so-called boundaries are,” The Stranger hummed, “I’m glad you’re caring, Dot. I do deserve a lot don’t I,” He said, the amusement in his face fading as he scanned the papers, “And in the spirit of friendship and caring--or whatever, you’ll be doing a little task for me. For security purposes of course,”

“What task,” Dot said, feeling a piece of her drain from her body.

“Just stop by the Sander’s house and keep an eye on my apprentices and the family,” The Stranger said, picking his teeth, “Just in case Roman tries something stupid, I’ll be able to...handle that situation quickly,”

“Of course,”

“And just so you know, Elliot will be going with you--just in case you try something stupid as well,” The Stranger added, Elliot fluttering in and landing on Dot’s shoulder.

If Elliot felt her building rage, they didn’t mention it. And when Dot left the tomb, and when Dot left the forest, Elliot didn’t mention when Dot made a phone call or two.

#ts sides #ts sanders sides #sanders sides #roceit #ts roman #ts deceit #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

0 notes

roseamongroses · 4 years ago

Text

W.A.L: “The Last Supper” (28) (ii)

s u m m a r y

v i b e s

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some dissociation

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Elliot, Kai, Lauren, Dot

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

Everything was too loud and once again Roman felt like it was completely beyond his control. The forest’s weight was an oppressive entity, seemingly outside of normal nature’s reach. Everything either felt as if it was moving too fast for conscious comprehension or that it didn’t move at all.

He didn’t need to ask to know that this forest was older than time itself. And while plausibly Roman knew that nothing was too beyond a Sanders’ control, something deep within him said that he shouldn’t even try it here.

Even before when the tree-like beast attacked, he knew he had done something unspeakable when he ordered it to unmake itself. At the time he was too confused and panicked to care about the consequences but now...He's still confused, and still had that constant growing panic that made his hyperawareness a curse in itself, but at least he now had a goal.

Several in fact.

Most of which involved him burning The Stranger and The Council to the ground and getting his family away from all of this bullshit. But the key point of that was he had to get to Janus--he had to find Janus.

Larry carried him through the forest rambling about nothing in particular to no one in particular and Roman ignored Dot’s heavy stare. He tried to somewhat memorize where they were taking him, but the forest didn’t make any sense. It was made long before sense was even a concept, but eventually Roman caught on to how it worked.

Even if there was no distinct landmarks, there was an undoubtable heaviness that increased the closer they got to wherever they were going. Roman could feel the magic laying dormant become more and more unbearable, he could feel even his own magic being dwarfed as he realized just how big this “forest” was.

The long branches of the trees seemed to cluster and tangle together locking away the sky until even the faint twinkling of stars seemed to meld into the darkness. And yet they continued forward, seemingly unphased or alarmed by the complete darkness.

Only it wasn’t dark for long. Slowly, but surely, dots of glowing red started to line their path. The unblinking eyes swooping above their heads just out of reach or scuttling just out of view into the hearth.

At one point, Roman felt the pressure increase and realized they were going underground, deep underground--all the while the glow of the Misrae’s eyes grew steadily around him. All attentive and completely soundless aside from the beating of wings. It got to the point where the glow was enough to illuminate the caverns walls and the deep etchings and carvings that swirled across stone in a deeply familiar yet foreign language.

At a certain point a thought came to him that maybe this wasn’t a weird forest or a cavern. Another thought followed with such clarity that Roman flinched at the intrusion.

It wasn’t a forest or a cavern.

It was a tomb.

---

Roman tuned out most of The Stranger’s speech.

It was some long, drawn out thing about his many woes and how the Universe continuously stripped away everything he cared about and how he needed to fix it. At first Roman didn’t understand what “it’ was exactly because while the Council sucked ass, it didn’t seemed like The Stranger was only fixated on that. Some of his issues had to do with the decaying world while others dealt with the fuckery that was human society and how magic folk were being systematically destroyed.

So Roman assumes that fixing it, meant well fixing everything. It meant reconstructing how existence worked until it was all this perfectly oiled machine. And The Stranger planned to do it by bringing back the goddess and some-fucking how Roman was suppose to wake her up.

At that point in the speech, Roman was less bored and more tired because it was absolute bullshit.

“That,” Roman picked at his nails, “Is absolute bullshit,” he said, relishing in how he can audibly hear the bastard's blood spike.

Dot’s wings stretched to curl around The Stranger, but they jerked away, scowl firmly in place, “Of course you wouldn’t understand,”

“Oh I understand,” Roman sighed, leaning back against the makeshift bed, “You’re some old, sad, crusty man who likes taking his shit out on my boyfriend because no one likes you,”

The Stranger had an interesting vein popping in his forehead now, his blue eyes wild under the faint haze of the Misrae’s careful gaze, “I detail a plan constructed over centuries and you trivialize it to loneliness? This is not about me, this isn’t about you, this is about fixing this world and--”

“Are you done?” Roman groaned, hands tapping impatient, “Because I don’t fucking care. You’re holding my loved ones hostage and you want me to revive the fucking goddess so I’m going along with this shitty plan--what else do you want?”

“I want--” The Stranger snapped his mouth shut, a strange flush settling over his face. He cleared his throat, turning to Dot stiffly, “Get him ready,” he gritted, turning on his heel and disappearing to the shadows of the tomb.

Dot exhaled, turning to Roman, “I know you’re upset, but that doesn’t mean you have to upset him,”

“Upset him?” Roman scoffed, “He’s older than dirt he can deal with it,”

“He really can’t,” Dot said. She maneuvered about the room with an uncomfortable ease and grace, sidestepping the oddly place crates and horrifically sized spider webs.

Roman attempted not to flinch as she hefted up a large, wrapped, thing, that, if the smell was anything to go by, was most likely dead.

“What are you doing with that,” Roman said with a grimace, curling himself further against the wall.

Dot hummed, the air stirring with the noise, “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

“I…” Dot dropped the dead thing on the crate next to the makeshift bed, “That’s ...unfortunate,” she finally said, wings curling about her waist, “It isn’t personal, I’m just returning a favor,”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Roman said, still eyeing the thing with caution.

“Roman don’t be--”

“Don’t be what?” The air became ice, Roman’s eyes trained on anything but Dot, “Because I know my reaction is reasonable and I don’t appreciate you trying to convince me otherwise-- as if you being nice makes this situation any better,”

“It could be better,” Dot reasoned, slowly unwrapping the thing, “He has no ill will of you as far as I know and if everything goes right, you’ll be safe,”

“It doesn’t matter it’s still fucked up,” Roman felt the makeshift bed crack and he could hear the tomb stirring and it made him al the more uneasy, “And the thing is I know fucked up--Annaliese wouldn't even call me by my name for years and yet somehow you’re even worst,”

At that, Dot had stiffened, her wings dropping at once, “Roman--” she reached out.

“Don’t,” Roman gritted, the command rushing out all at once. Dot’s hand had frozen mid-air, her wide-doe eyes blown wide, body frozen, “I trusted you,” Roman finally said, voice small.

All at once Dot’s body relaxed, as if the taunt string had finally been cut loose.

She didn’t try to touch Roman again.

---

Waking the dead was sort of like reading.

It was picking apart at the layers of a life that wasn’t his and trying to decipher a meaning--trying to reason with the bits and pieces the life had left behind. The coaxing was the easy part, the magic of the dead still lingered in some way. Sometimes returning back to nature, sometimes laying dormant, other times well…

Roman let the smile on his face linger at the thought, memories of Remus’s laugh a comforting relief that was only interrupted by the brief twitching of the creature’s corpse in front of him. He frowned as he watched the brief flickering of life slip away all at once.

He had done it before successfully, sometimes accidental sometimes on purpose. But even the successes weren’t...right. Even though he had never seen the creature in life, Roman felt the wrongness wash over him as they twitched and writhed in their own juices, the stink of their magic flooding the room before quieting--taking their life with it.

“So who’s going to tell the ass that I suck at this,?” Roman grumbled.

“You don’t suck,” Dot said leaning over Roman’s shoulders,” You’re progressing well for such little time,”

“Um... well it's still dead,”

Dot sighed, “It is,” she said, “Technical ability only get you so far, especially with the dead--and they’ll only get more uncooperative if we place it in a vessel it’s unfamiliar with,”

“So how do I make it cooperative?”

“Convince it that this new life will be worth living,” Dot said as if that was easy, “It's fairly similar to how you grow plants, only more complicated, so the energy you’re putting in will affect the outcome,”

“Dot I really hope you aren’t fucking suggesting I think good thoughts to revive a corpse cause that’s pretty fucking hard to do when my family’s being threatened,”

“It would speed up the process,” Dot shrugged, “And you’ve done it before,”

“But before I at least had J- Deceit--” Roman snapped.

Dot didn’t say anything to that, her stare far too heavy so Roman fixated on the corpse in front of him, pushing himself to try again--at least the failure would distract him. The corpse crumpled into ash in front of him and Roman felt his irritation spike--hating himself even more when he instinctively looked up for Dot’s commentary.

The only thing was that when he looked up Dot wasn’t there, and then she was, drifting back into the room as if she never left, a single key hanging from her fingers.

She tilted her head, staring at him expectantly before turning on her heel.

Roman scrambled to follow.

#ts sides #roceit #ts roman #ts deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

0 notes

roseamongroses · 5 years ago

Text

W.A.L: “The Last Supper” (27) (i)

s u m m a r y

v i b e s

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some dissociation

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Elliot, Kai, Lauren, Dot

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

---

Janus spent his break relearning.

He relearned what it felt like to rest.

He ignored the sun’s rise, feeling his body’s relief. He relearned how it felt for his muscles to be simply sore without the adrenaline of training clouding his senses. He relished in the sluggishness of the early morning, Roman curled at his side, only really waking up when hearing their rough, sleep heavy voice.

He spent his break patient. He listened to the brats argue until Mrs. Sanders kicked them outside so she could do her accounting in peace. He listened to the babble of Roman’s sisters as they bossed and questioned him with seemingly no qualms about what might or might not be seen as rude.

They apparently didn’t like calling him Deceit and had taken a liking to refer to him as Mr. Snake, which also spurred a number of inside jokes that he didn’t understand--including calling him slimy. Janus had to stop himself more than once from just telling them his actual name just to stop that nonsense.

He spent his break...well catching up with Roman.

Janus hadn’t realized how often they would have to stop or avoid talking about certain things because something would always come up. Janus generally had to train the brats while Roman had to watch his sisters and help out around the house. Even when they had free time, The Stranger's traning had gotten more exhausting, leaving Janus mentally and physically checked out most of the time. Roman, despite his medication helping with his physical ability to withstand his magic, still had nausea, fatigue, and anxiety attacks-- sometimes getting to the point where they couldn't take care of his sisters much less spend time with Janus.

But for once… all of that wasn’t stopping them, as if for a brief moment the universe let them breathe.

So Janus was patient when Roman was describing his boundaries, as Roman described the myriad of peculiar or dangerous things that had happened when he decided to get intimate before. And in turn, Janus did the same.

And on his last day of his break, he spent his time relearning Roman’s body.

---

Janus knew he would have to leave soon, yet he found himself lingering.

Roman curled into him, their transparent wings twitching every so often--still overly sensitive from being touched. The blankets cradling their smooth expanse of skin, just barely hiding the trail of pink flowers dotting around their legs and disappearing between their thighs.

Janus knew he had to leave, but before he did he wanted to do literally anything else. So he sat up slowly scooping up and slipping on his discarded clothes, feeling the moon’s glare on his neck and Roman’s faint touches on his skin. He had to leave.

He stood, forcing himself not to look back, but the bed creaked causing Roman to stir.

Hearing their intelligible voice, Janus caved.

Roman had kicked off the blankets, face scrunched up as he pawed at the empty space beside them. Janus sighed, pulling the covers back onto him, and before he could think he found himself pressing a kiss to their forehead.

Pulling away, his breath caught, “You’re awake,”

Roman opened his eyes, a small frown on their face, “You were leaving,”

“I have to get back to training,” Janus explained, soft. And even though he knew that it was the truth, it felt as heavy as a lie, “I’ll be back in about a week,”

Somehow Roman’s frown got deeper, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he said sitting up, the blanket pooling around his waist.

“If I did I wouldn’t have been able to leave,” Janus admitted.

“Then don’t.”

“I,” Janus’s mind blanked. That sounded too easy when Roman said it, “I can’t do that,” he said, “I have to Roman. I made a deal. Without The Stranger I’d probably be in jail somewhere rotting away or dead,”

Roman tilted his head at the new information, “And how did you end up there?”

“Alle-” Janus froze. Instead of the village people’s stare as he stumbled through town half dazed and still covered in blood. Instead of Eden’s mangled and beastly body dissapearing into the woods--Instead of Virgil being swept way in the river, all he could think of was--

Blue eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Janus gritted, suddenly angry, “I have to leave,”

Roman hugged his arms, “You….You don’t have to do anything,” he said, “I get that you have a deal but...this is too much. Every time you leave with him you come back worse. I…”

“That’s easy for you to say, “Janus inhaled, “Roman even after your life went to shit, you still managed to get everyone you cared for back. You still had people who cared. I don’t have that, and I won’t as long as I’m like this. If I have to suffer a bit to get it then…”

Roman’s face looked shattered, “...I care about you,” he sniffed, wiping his face.

“...I know,” Janus swallowed, “It’s just, “I’m not en--”

“Don’t,” Roman’s teary eyes narrowed, fist balling at his sides, “If you weren’t enough I sure as fuck would not have gotten into a relationship with you. And even if you were that doesn’t mean you’re less deserving of love,”

“I’m not looking for…” Janus blinked hard, “ I’m not looking for love. I’m becoming more,” he said, voice not quite his own.

“Please…. don’t leave.”

Somehow he found his body moving towards the door, the doorknob burning underneath his hand, “I’ll be back in a week,” he murmured bile rising in his throat as he left, Roman’s pleas distant in his ear.

Everything was distant.

It was only when he was standing outside of the door did a foggy thought drift into his head that he didn’t want to leave.

Janus didn’t want to do this. He wanted to turn back around and ignore every promise, every deal he’s ever made. He didn’t want to keep becoming he just wanted to be. Be alive, be loved, even if that life felt like shit sometimes, he was so desperate to make it better because for once that life was his.

It was only when his world went black did he realize that he didn’t have a choice anymore.

---

It had been about a week and you could say that Roman was still upset.

He didn’t mention Janus’s absence and continued on with his new life. He played and cared for his younger sisters and let the brats do whatever they want. He laughed when he was supposed to laugh and avoided Lauren’s careful prodding with the ease expected from a practiced liar. You wouldn’t even have noticed the faint trail of ashes that tended to follow him or how he spent a bit too long in the shower.

So you could say he was still upset, but ultimately he was fine. He was functional and sometimes functional was enough. This was…

Roman shut the door, leaning against it with his eyes shut tight as he inhaled sharply. He swallowed thick, feeling that all familiar panic seize him with every breath. It wasn’t that he couldn’t focus on calming down, but there was so much to focus on. The way raindroplets sliding down the bedroom window, how tree branches rattled outside, the constant fucking whirring of technology everywhere, and heartbeats--so many heartbeats but none of them Janu--

Roman opened his eyes startled, “Dot?” he rasped, staring into the darkness head of him, “When did you get ou-- how?”

Dot sat on the bed, legs crossed--only the faint reflecting of her unblinking eyes visible. Otherwise, her glimmering skin seemed to lay hushed in the shadows. “Dear, have you been taking your medication?”

Roman bit his lip, “Yes, but that doesn’t--”

“All of it?”

“U-Yes?”

Dot made an odd sound comparable to an exhale, but it felt like reluctance, “It would seem that Sanders should be stable enough,” she echoed to herself. Her wings drooped uncharacteristically low as she stood up, “I guess I’m not killing that man after all,”

Roman became distinctly aware of another presence in the room, one without heartbeat or shape, “What’s going on?” he demanded fumbling with the door behind him, flinching when instead of the door handle he felt the hands of The Guard wrap around his arm, feeling both tight yet nonexistent as they restrained him.

Roman struggled, air turning into ice as The Guard lifted him up, “Let me go,” he snarled, feeling the house shake as he forced the distant storm to wrap around the house.

The Guard’s laugh was booming, not terribly phased, “Oh he is an Heir,” he said, somehow holding Roman up higher, “He’s so cute, are you sure we can’t keep him?”

Dot shook her head, wrapping the shawl around her shoulders tighter as she flipped out a phone, “Larry, he’s not a toy,” Larry made a whimpering sound and Dot made a chirping one in return, “I did try, but He was rather adamant about keeping the pair together,” she frowned as the windows burst open. A blackened branch crashing inside with a deathly ease, “I wouldn’t advise that dear,” Dot said, sidestepping it's initial strike, “He did give us a beta version of the curse to use if you became difficult,”

“Like I give a damn,” Roman choked, only increasing his struggling, “I’ve gotten out of it before,”

Dot hummed, phone still at her ear, “But your father didn’t,” she commented, “Nor did your brother,” at that Roman spat at her, “And they were very powerful men, though not terribly creative like you are. Power can only get you so far after all,”

“Is there a point to this?” Roman scoffed.

“Still so impatient,” Dot tutted, approaching Roman with the casualty you usually do not expect from someone inches away from being crushed to death, “But the point is if some very powerful Sanders can’t physically handle the curse, what do you think would happen to humans? Especially with something as volatile as a beta version of the curse?”

And like that, the tree was gone,.

Roman’s panic had only surged, “You wouldn’t,”

“I don’t want to, but I’d have to,” Dot corrected, softly patting Roman’s face, “Please don’t make this any more difficult, darling. I’d love to see you in one piece after this,”

Roman jerked his face away, blinking back his tears, “Fuck off,”

Aleseners didn’t emote like humans did, but for a brief moment Dot looked pained.

And in the next moment the world went white.

---

A nameless shifter wakes up, hot metal pressed tight around their wrists and mouth bound with an unwashed rag. Their skin was slick, an uncomfortable heat lingering around their form. Their eyes throbbed with a clear, burning ooze still dripping from them.

A breeze blew through the air even though there wasn’t a window in sight.

They looked up, seeing the same Stranger from before.

It was time to try again.

#ts sides #roceit #ts roman #ts deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

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