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meli-writes · 4 days ago

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Bitch-Princess of Toronto

“Cute, right?” Tamsin grins. She gestures to the small, pale mess curled up on the sidewalk couch with her — into her — the 6-foot, mullet-topped werewolf draping her own leather jacket over it to keep it warm. ��Got the Bitch-Princess of Toronto purring in my lap.”

“I don’t purr,” the mess purrs back, echoing off the motor-repair shop’s walls, with an idle flash of fang catching Ezra’s eye.

“You want me to use the word ‘snore?’” Tamsin asks, irritatingly casual about it all.

Because Ezra, well they have been watching those fangs every day this week, waiting to see if the little caught vampire is gonna try anything; keeping her leashed in silver chains, some regular mechanic’s ones too, to one of the steel columns while the pack-elder fucks off to debate what to do with her. Ezra’s been looking into things themself — the usual rumours of vampires prodding into their territory, making sure it’s no-one who belongs to the Prince — because this one hasn’t been much in the way of forthcoming.

And in the two days they've left Tamsin in charge, she's got the bitch on a dog leash.

Ezra exhales, pulling at their septum ring and breathing the stress back in. “That’s the part you take issue with.” Not looking at Tamsin — but the vampire. The silent perfection with which she seems to not even notice Ezra is a screeching brake rotor in their head.

“Still only responds to what she wants to,” Tamsin uselessly informs them, flat-toned with a barely hidden smile that also says, but i’m what she wants.

And what does her owner want? The Prince, Ezra doesn’t say aloud.

“Why is she in your lap?” they manage to ask.

“I don’t know,” Tamsin says. “We were chattin’ and I felt bad about leaving her chained to the post.” She rolls her shoulders back, stretching, and pulls a massive, thrice-bitten arm up to ruffle at the vampire’s ruby-red hair. “She’s so warm after feeding.”

“You did what!?” Ezra shouts, their hands convulsing in an electric gesture of sheer-fucking-disbelief before managing to clamp them into fists on their temples. “Tam! If Lucerne comes back from the Eldermoot and sees this-leashed-bitch and that-shit-on-your-arm she’ll fucking kill us both!”

“I don’t know,” Tamsin offers in a smug-salted, doubtful smile, “seemed a whole lot less messy than feeding out of the bowl — and she’s been so good. Two taps when she needs me to pull her off, ‘cos she struggles to herself. Very polite.”

Just to annoy Ezra even worse, she gestures it out — Tap! Tap! — on her arm.

“You think she's imprinted on me?”

“So she’s a stray cat now?” Ezra says, knowing in an instant that Tam is going to—

“Ohh, she’s such a good kitten. Ain’t that right, Red?”

Not much more escapes the pile of leather and frizzy, red hair than low, pleased grumble and the soft scrape of blood-full cheeks rubbing into Tamsin’s half-dressed chest.

Ezra’s hands run from temple-sides down their cheeks, like a squished bagpipe dragging out the last few thimblefuls of air, “I guess. If it helps.”

They’re not able to think of what else could even keep ‘Red’ on her leash, nothing short of the brute-strength that seems futile on a now barely-restrained, blood-full vampire. Marde. She’s one of the Prince’s fledglings too.

But if it is, at this point, all about what ‘Red’ is choosing to do, maybe Ezra can—

“Can I— pet her?”

Tamsin’s eyes lock to her, face still for a few contemplate moments, and then— well, she kind of nod-shrugs.

It’s when Ezra has reached a wrench’s length away that ‘Red’ finally does ‘notice’ them, stirring from her wretched repose to swipe at them; Ezra has to stumble back, falling ass-backward onto the stacked-tire coffee table.

Nothing got scratched, but Ezra can definitely feel their ego bleeding; looking at Tamsin who should be pinning the bitch to the floor, snarling, fur sprouting from claw-to-delt, and is instead pissing herself laughing.

“Don’t think she’s imprinted on you,” she adds, and Ezra is sure the vicious fang-bitch is smiling herself. Probably didn’t scratch me ‘cos she didn’t need to — with Tam playing pet-mom to her. “Gotta let her feed on your first.”

“Oh-ho-ho! Ha! Ha-ha! No chance,” Ezra mutters, twisting their swiped-at wrist in the other hand to soothe the emotional agony of it. “Tam — what if she tries draining you and uses that strength to escape?”

It’s a perfectly sensible question; one that should point out what a bad idea this is; one that not even Himbo Tamsin should be able to—

“Don’t want to,” interrupts ‘Red,’ boredom effusing into Tamsin’s tits.

“What?” Ezra asks.

…

“Ugh!” they squeal, throwing their arms up in the air. “Tamsin, can you ask her—”

Tamsin merely coos at the fucking beast, rubs one of its dumb cheeks and, “you like it when I keep you, don’t you kitty?”

“Mhmm,” she replies, like once-again Tamsin is the only other person in the room. Ridicule!

But it crawls into them then, why doesn’t she want to.

“Also,” the vampire adds, as if listening to Ezra’s thoughts more than their words, “the Prince’s current truce is a lie. Doubtless I’m no longer his favourite too, if he’s not bothered to take me back from you guys.”

There’s a roll of Ezra’s eyes that hurts more than an unplanned, full-moon turning, “Oh my god! Then we’ve been hiding a worthless hostage this entire time.”

“I don’t know,” ‘Red’ tells them. “Seemed obvious to me.”

“And you never told us!” Ezra moans, glancing up to Tamsin who’s pathetically infatuated with the attention-whore clamped around her like a bench vice. “So what, nowhere to run now? We would’ve let you off leash at least. The silver one, not this shit.”

“Seems kinda hot to be honest,” ‘Red’ says, and Tamsin hums in satisfied, deferential agreement.

When Ezra stares her down she shrugs, “What? I was comfortable,” and seems to want to send a message back, “Scared a little, okay. And I’m patient. Wanted to see what happened, because again, if he wanted me, a truce — fake-or-not — wouldn’t stop him; and he knows I’m here, for sure.”

There’s a wince now, but she doesn’t stop, “I don’t feel him but— ugh, I’m sure he feels me. Even this far from his ivory tower. Wasn’t really my choice to be there y’know, or any of his ‘princesses.’”

Ezra wishes they were the one borrowing Tam’s jacket, just to hide in it.

Silver chains and a bowl. Next to a mattress you needed Tamsin to find a blanket for. What an asshole, a wonder she doesn’t listen.

Practical feels the best way forward, “So what now? You gonna tell us about some secret attack or plan or whatever it is?”

After a moment they realise, and look to— “Tamsin?”

Tamsin’s got a hand under the girl’s borrowed shirt; fingers nipping at the trim fat, forehead rocking into the top of her head. “You know this sounds awfully dangerous, kitten,” she chimes. “You don’t want the Prince to hurt me, do you? There’d be way less cuddles then.”

‘Red’ takes a moment to weigh the bargain.“Mmm, sure. But I want dinner first.”

---

(Masterpost)

#5 minute read #melinoë writes #f/f #lesbian vampire #vampire #werewolf #werewolves #vampire x werewolf #Hunter's Mark #but an AU to it okay

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theramseyloft · 3 months ago

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Could you rank the most intelligent to least intelligent performance breeds you’ve ever dealt with?

As well as the most to least affectionate Show breeds?

If you consider the Feral a breed in itself, it is, hands down, the most intelligent.

They are the product of generations of birds living without human care, who have had to dodge predators and scrounge what food they can, surviving on their wits alone and passing their knowledge to each successive generation.

If you do not consider Ferals to be a breed, then the Racing Homer is the most intelligent performer.

They have safe nests and thrive in human care, if and only if they succeed at dodging predators and finding their way home over trips up to 500 miles away, which can take days, through any kind of weather.

Those that do not succeed are lucky to survive. Most fall prey to hawks, vehicles, and exhaustion.

Those very lucky few who do live long enough to be found are the vast majority of rescues in most places, typically outnumbering even ferals and utility kings, especially in the fall.

Birmingham Rollers

and Portuguese Tumblers

Only have to dodge predators in short flights above their lofts.

Both breeds are trained to fly in a team called a Kit, required to be extremely biddable by their trainer, who acts in part as their predator spotter and calls them in either at the end of a performance, or when a predator is sighted.

Biddability requires intelligence, but not nearly as much as the independent decision making capability by which Homers navigate and ferals survive.

These are the four performers I have the most hands on experience with.

I can't really report on birds I have not worked with many of.

As to the exhibition breeds:

This bird does not belong to me.

He is Cotta's great Grandsire.

But I have to list the Show Line Danzig Highflier as the single most affectionate exhibition breed for the rock solid, determinedly sweet temperament that has passed down to all of his descendants, regardless of what they were mixed with for four straight generations.

When socialized with humans, they are the loviest things you can lay hands on shy of an imprint.

They are even one of the very rare relatively low dust breeds, though I am not sure exactly how that inherits.

Frillbacks

This breed is an entire loaf of bread.

They are extremely mellow, and not because they are stupid or flight is difficult or painful.

Most of them that I have socialized have sought out my lap as the most comfortable place to loaf, and will loaf with a person they like for hours.

This exceptionally sweet temperament passes reliably to their offspring.

Once again, this is not my bird.

But I have to rank the American Show Racer very high because of the reliability with which the breed's unflappably mellow temperament has passed to its decedents in my experience thus far.

This is an unshakable brick of a bird, that, when socialized, is very tractable and docile.

Lucerne

Extremely docile, but ranked lower because even birds that out right disliked me were very tolerant and relaxed in the hand.

There is a huge difference between docile/tolerant and affectionate, and affectionate is what I want.

Show Type Racing Homer

Very mellow baseline temperament, but not necessarily inclined to be a friendly bird.

Classic Old Frill

I love this breed dearly.

But I have to place them here because their temperament is very hit or miss.

Depending on how they are socialized, you will either have a doting cuddle bug, or an extremely skittish bird that wants nothing to do with you.

I have had an even mix of both result when I bred them for show, and birds that largely ignored me also came to be, but those were rarer than either cuddle bugs or skittish.

Those that do end up being cuddle bugs? The single most affectionate seekers of human company I have ever had the pleasure of handling!

That's all six I will be using for temperament.

Giant Homer

An absolute bowling ball of a bird, so when I call them the biggest cuddle bug, I mean that literally.

This was, initially, a Utility breed, meaning they were bred for meat.

As with most meat animals, like Flemish and Continental Giant bunnies, that means that these birds are two things; extremely heavy and extremely docile.

But because of the shift from meat bird to show bird by people who liked the big round aesthetic, part of that docility is their natural temperament, but as with boiler chickens, a lot of it is from simply being too heavy to comfortably move.

These are prone to a lot of uncomfortable health issues, from hyper rapid growth of calluses on the soles of their feet to feather deformities. (Both Bertha and Agnes suffered from abscessed flights that grew in upside down and backwards and couldn't break skin that was not supposed to have closed over the follicle.)

They do not like to move because frankly, their feet and wings tend to hurt, so they will gladly seek out a soft, warm lap to sit on.

Voorburg Shield Croppers

Are the only breed I know of with a temperament requirement written into their breed standard.

They are required to blow and dance to woo the judges, but this is not so much friendly as horny behavior, making this particular breed more inclined to see humans as potential mates regardless of imprinting.

When blended with other breeds, it leads to very pushy, aggressively forward cocks that absolutely will not take no for an answer and will fight you to the gates of hell about it.

This behavior is not particularly unpleasant in pure Voorburgs because their inflated globe is not a physical trait, but a genetically coded behavior. (Fascinatingly, passed on by a dominant gene).

Basically, they are compelled to keep their globe inflated most of the time, and that compulsion is stronger than the typical compulsion of a pigeon cock to bite to initiate the driving phase of courtship.

They can't hold their beaks open to bite without deflating their globe, and even if they could, the globe inflates far wider than the beak is long.

So, where an aggressively amorous cock of any other breed will charge in a bite, Voorburgs charge in and boop into you with their soft inflated globe.

They are harmless and adorable as they are, but that genetic drive to determinedly court humans is why I will not be incorporating any more into the project.

Valencian Figurita

These have mostly been very sweet in my experience, though that is largely dependent on bloodline.

I have lucked out with most of them so far, and their offspring tend to inherit a very demure, sweet temper.

I have stopped working with them because they are so tiny that they often need at least one of their young to be fostered under other similar sized birds like Ringneck Doves.

Old German Owl

I have met some absolutely wonderful OGO.

But the vast majority have been fairly skittish, and so have their offspring with other breeds.

Temperament is mostly genetic in pigeons. Flightiness, for example, is a single dominant gene.

It's hell to breed out because it isn't visible and can be overcome by high intelligence.

But exhibition breeds tend to be pretty low intelligence, simply because there is so much less need of it when you exist to look pretty in a show pen.

If you can, try to meet the breeder in person and see how their birds react to them.

Astrid's dearly loved her, and she was extremely sweet tempered. A far cry from OGO I had purchased at shows.

Her children were very sweet tempered too.

So don't count them out, just research the breeder.

Komorner Tumbler

This is no longer a flying breed, and as such it has lost quite a lot of its intelligence.

That said, it has lost a lot of flightiness too!

These have a good probability of being fairly sweet and happy to seek out human attention.

If you don't mind the bird not being very bright, a Komorner might be an ok fit for some one looking for a bird that's easy to socialize.

Nun

Nuns, on the other hand, are almost notorious for having lost almost all survival instinct.

Oh, they're sweet as they can be, but described as being too stupid to move out from underfoot or recognize their own eggs as something other than a weirdly hard poop.

They are often fostered under other breeds because they will poop an egg on the floor, if it's lucky, and just walk away.

Chinese Owl

I have heard that these are docile, but that has been absolutely none of my experience with them!

Flightiness is a dominant gene, and these nervous messes have made skittish terrors of nearly everything they have mixed with in my care.

Same goes for the striking Old Dutch Capuchin.

I have decided to remove these from the list of breeds I intend to blend simply because their unique embellishment is not enough to balance out their high strung skittishness.

Lahore

These lovely anime penguin cosplayers are not by any means skittish!

While you will get sweet individuals on occasion, typically cocks, the hens will fight God!

They are a lot less inclined to be combative with other pigeons as they are to be with you, but if you get one that likes you, she will fight god over the right to be in contact with you!

While I have had a Mindian, American, and Garden fantail, I do not have enough hands on experience with these breeds to evaluate them fairly for this question.

The Garden fantail is the only breed I plan to incorporate primarily for its structural embellishments, rather than temperament or intelligence.

#pet pigeon #pigeon breeds #temperament

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odyssean-flower · 1 year ago

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 6 - End of Spring: When a Planted Seed Sprouts

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette hash things out. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now? Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette standing in Enkanomiya (they should really set another event here)

Previous | Next

“Monsieur Neuvillette should be back around this time…”

You were sitting in the kitchen, working on your embroidery again. Normally, you would be doing this in the garden, but there was a trial this morning, which meant rain was coming.

The sky was already covered in gray, low-hanging clouds. It looked like there would be quite a storm today.

“Pardon me, Madame?” Marie said. She was cleaning the countertops.

“I was just saying that Monsieur Neuvillette should have been home an hour ago. I wonder if something happened.”

Marie turned around and looked at you. “Are you worried about him?”

“Well, not exactly worried, but he’s usually home around this time when there’s a morning trial.”

Maybe it had gone on longer than expected, but from what you read in the papers, today’s trial was a run-of-the-mill thievery case, so it shouldn’t have taken very long.

When you explained your reasoning to Marie, she stared at you thoughtfully for a few moments.

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking how similar the two of you are,” she said, smiling. “Unexpected things tend to happen in his line of work, but if you are concerned, why not go and see him?”

“Go see him? Is that…okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well…” you couldn’t think of a good answer. “I’m not sure if he’d be happy to see me.”

“And how would you know that, Madame? Personally, I think seeing a familiar face after an arduous day at work would lift anyone’s spirits.”

You thought about arguing that you and Neuvillette had barely had a conversation since you moved in and that it might do more harm than good if you went to receive him, but Marie was already shooing you to the door and bringing you your coat and umbrella. It looked like you had no choice.

“One last thing, Madame. I’ve worked for Monsieur Neuvillette for many years, and I can tell you a few things about him. For one thing, if you don’t make the first move, he will not do anything either.”

You stared at her in confusion. “…Okay?”

“Go to him,” Marie repeated, then opened the front door for you.

And just how am I meant to do that when I don’t even know the way? You thought as you wandered the streets of Fontaine.

You knew that Neuvillette went to the Opera in a private vessel, but you had no idea where the docks were.

Just as you passed by the Café Lucerne, a familiar-looking Melusine in a Marechausee Phantom uniform greeted you. “Good afternoon, Madame! Out for a walk?”

“Good afternoon, Officer…uh…”

“It’s Menthe, Madame.”

“My apologies, Officer Menthe. I’m looking for the docks where Monsieur Neuvillette’s boat would land.”

“Oh, then allow me to take you there! I believe Monsieur Neuvillette will be arriving there shortly.”

“Thank you, Officer.”

As you followed Menthe, who was skipping ahead of you, you felt raindrops land in your hair and opened your umbrella.

Truth be told, you had no idea what you were going to do once you got there.

Things between you and Neuvillette were as awkward as ever, and though you tried to convince yourself that things were fine the way they were, a feeling of dissatisfaction and frustration grew day by day.

I would like to be on friendly terms with him.

Maybe it was from all the covert observation you were doing, or just from the fact that you lived in such close proximity with him, but you found yourself becoming more interested in him as a person.

It's impolite, the voice of reason in your head said. You shouldn’t get too curious. It’ll only end in him pushing you away.

You thought of your debutante days, when you would try to learn more about the young gentlemen who interested you. Eventually, you stopped trying after so many failures and heartbreaks.

But with Neuvillette…somehow, you wanted things to be different. Perhaps it was because he had chosen you of all women to be his wife, even if it was partly because you were in a desperate bind. And, embarrassingly, it was also probably because he was the first man to take an interest in you.

What’s more, a part of you suspected that he wanted you to approach him as well. There were times when you would catch him looking at you out of the corner of your eye like he wanted to speak with you. And sometimes, when you were still awake in bed after he returned home, you could hear heavy footsteps stop in front of your door before turning to the other side of the second floor.

You couldn’t prove anything. But what if?

This relationship had a predestined end. Your paths were only intersecting briefly before their inevitable separation. But until then, why not turn this into a pleasant memory you could smile back on?

You were chosen for this role, as vague as it might be. You should fulfill it by doing things the right, proper way.

You walked down the brick-paved streets with resolve in your heart.

Menthe led you to the private docks. There was already a vessel stopped there, and a tall blue figure was disembarking.

“There he is!” Menthe shouted suddenly. “Monsieur Neuvillette! Madame is here for you!”

The blue figure stopped and turned in your direction.

Then, she turned to you and said, “I must return to my station now, Madame. Good luck!”

“Hold on a minute!” you said, but the Melusine was already skipping away, leaving you all alone.

Taking in a deep breath, you turned around and found Neuvillette standing a short distance away. You couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

“Um…hello there, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you said. As if on cue, it began to rain. Great.

“Did Marie send you here?” he asked. His voice was quiet, almost blending in with the rain.

Your heart sank a little. You really messed up. But hopefully, it could still be saved.

“No,” you shook your head vigorously. “I came here because I wanted to see you, sir.”

The rain, strangely, seemed to intensify at that moment.

“You need not force yourself to go out in this weather,” Neuvillette said. “It’s better to stay home than to risk illness for my sake.”

“Well, in this season, if you’re going to stay home because of a little rain, then you shouldn’t go outside at all,” you said. “Besides, I’ve never walked in the rain before. It’s such a novel experience. I can see why you like it so much.”

Neuvillette didn’t say anything, but you could detect bafflement in his gaze. You couldn’t blame him. You would feel the same way if someone who had been avoiding you for weeks suddenly started acting friendly with you.

“Are you going to the Palais, sir, or back home?”

“Home,” he said. He was even less talkative than usual. Presiding over trials probably took a lot of energy out of him. Maybe being in the rain was a way for him to recharge.

“Very well, then,” you said. “Shall we be off?”

The two of you walked in silence. You noticed that Neuvillette chose the more secluded roads with fewer people before he looked down at you.

“My apologies, we should be taking the quickest way home.”

He then proceeded to double back the way you came before stopping again.

“Or perhaps we should travel more discreetly…” he murmured to himself.

All around you, people were either running for shelter or clustered under awnings.

“Where did this storm come from?” you heard a man complain.

“My laundry’s still outside!” a woman moaned.

Neuvillette looked around at all the commotion, then closed his eyes, as though resigned.

“The shorter way back, then,” he said, walking faster.

You hurried to catch up with him. No one had noticed the two of you yet, but they would soon.

“Is there a reason why you prefer more secluded roads, sir?” you asked, even though you could somewhat guess the reason.

You didn’t really expect an answer, but Neuvillette said, “I simply find it tiresome to refuse the umbrellas people would offer me whenever I decide to take a stroll in the rain. I don’t know what’s so strange about the sight of it.”

The genuine confusion and annoyance in his voice made you giggle a little. Marie was right after all. Who knew even someone like him would be affected by the opinions of others? It was endearing, in a way.

“What is it?” he asked when he heard you laugh.

“It’s nothing,” you said. “Oh, here’s an idea. Why don’t you hold my umbrella for me? That way, people would say, ‘Look at the Chief Justice being such a gentleman, holding an umbrella for that homely-looking woman,’ and no one would think anything of you being in the rain.”

“You are not homely,” he said, but for the first time, the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. He took your umbrella and held it over your head.

The two of you continued walking in silence. Not exactly like the awkward kind of silence that was often between you two at home, but something more hopeful, like you both knew what the other was going to say and were waiting for the other to voice it.

You decided to take the first step.

“Might I guess what is on your mind, sir?”

“Please, go ahead.”

“Well, perhaps I am being too presumptuous, but I would wager a guess that my current strange behavior is one of the things bothering you?”

It was a daring guess, but you were seemingly proven right when Neuvillette didn’t say anything and turned his head.

“You must be wondering if I’m being possessed right now, or if I had eaten something strange.”

Neuvillette still didn’t say anything, but you caught the corner of his lips turning up again.

“I am a bit baffled by you,” he confessed. “You present yourself like you wish to have as little contact with me as possible, but then you would do things that seem contrary to that behavior, almost as though you’re interested in me. I am still lacking in terms of understanding human emotions, or how to make myself approachable, it seems.”

“No, sir, you've done nothing wrong!” you said, the words coming out louder than you meant it. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. Would…would you care to listen to my explanation?”

Neuvillette nodded.

You took in a deep breath. “You see, sir, I know you said that there’s no need for us to act like a couple, but it felt wrong for me to not learn anything about you, so I decided to do some, um, covert observation.”

“So that was why you…”

“Yes, that was why I’ve been watching and avoiding you at the same time. I didn’t want you to find me a bother, or to dislike me. But that clearly was the wrong choice. I deeply apologize for that. It must have been very discomforting for you.”

Neuvillette said nothing. He stepped over a large puddle, and then helped you over it. His legs are very long, you thought idly, then caught yourself staring.

“I can relate to the covert observation part,” he said after a while. “Although I must confess, it is perhaps for the best that you have not chosen to pursue the profession of detective.”

He’s making a joke? Maybe you should have been offended, but all you felt was relief. “You were probably expecting me to be a more sensible, mature person when you chose me as your wife, didn’t you?”

And you were those things. But when it came to Neuvillette, for whatever reason, you acted completely unlike yourself.

Neuvillette stayed silent for a moment before saying, “…it’s not always unpleasant to discover new sides of a person one finds interesting.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. “…I suppose?”

“This does explain why you were staring at my mouth during dinner that one time.”

You felt your cheeks turn red. Honestly, you were surprised that Neuvillette hadn’t thrown you out of his house because of your weird behavior. “Please don’t talk about that.”

“I thought I had something stuck in my teeth.”

Sorry, sorry! “Can we just pretend the past month never happened and start with a clean slate?”

A small chuckle escaped from Neuvillette’s lips. “I would love nothing more than that.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

Your heart felt lighter than it had ever been in the past weeks. As though mirroring this feeling, the steady drumming of raindrops let up a little, and you could see rays of sunlight shining through gaps in the dark clouds.

“I’m curious, sir, what did you think of me while I was doing all those things?”

Neuvillette put his hand on his chin. “I thought I had scared you in some way, which was why you always left the rooms I entered and watch me with that cautious look in your eyes.”

All you could do was force out awkward laughter and stare at your feet. You were so lucky that Neuvillette’s heart was as broad as the sea itself.

“And also,” he added after a pause. “You always call me ‘sir’ and ‘Monsieur Neuvillette,’ even though we are married.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, but...” Neuvillette cleared his throat. “Never mind.”

You felt bad that Neuvillette seemed a bit disappointed, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to call him by only his name (which was also your last name now, albeit temporarily).

You two continued to walk in silence. You were near the house now. The rain seemed to have stopped completely now, but Neuvillette was still holding your umbrella over your head.

“Also,” he suddenly said, quietly. “I could never dislike you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “...I see. Um, thank you, sir. I’ll try my best to be worthy of it.”

"And do you...dislike me?” Neuvillette stopped, looking right into your eyes.

You blinked. This man, you realized, could be clueless about some things sometimes. But on the other hand, wasn’t it good to have verbal confirmation of things, instead of constantly guessing and hoping?

“If I disliked you, sir,” you said, meeting his gaze. “I would not be coming out into the rain to talk with you like this.”

A full smile appeared on Neuvillette’s face this time. A light seemed to radiate from within him. You never knew that someone’s face could change so much from a simple change of expression. It took your breath away.

“I hope that I am worthy of that as well.”

“You know, I’ve always been curious about that favorite drink of yours. What is it?”

After getting home and drying off, you sat in the parlor with Neuvillette. His silver goblet was sitting on the small table, filled with that mysterious liquid like always.

“Would you like to try it?”

You hesitated a moment before nodding. You could hold your drink pretty well, and you doubted that Neuvillette would let you drink anything dangerous for you.

“Very well then, I shall get another cup for you,” Neuvillette said, before leaving for the kitchen. If you had to describe his gait with a literary expression, then he would be walking “with a spring in his step.”

He quickly returned with another silver cup and placed it in front of you. You peered into it. It contained that same clear, odorless liquid.

“Shall we make a toast?” Neuvillette said, sitting back down.

“To what?”

“To our new friendship, of course.”

Friendship. You weren’t strangers, but neither did you have romantic feelings for each other, despite being married. But there was something warm there. Friendship was a perfectly adequate, broad term to describe what you two wordlessly wanted with each other.

He raised his cup to yours, and you clinked yours with his. You took a sip of the drink. It’s surprisingly flavorless. Refreshing, but flavorless, just like water. Wait a minute, this is water!

“How is it?” Neuvillette asked, watching you.

“This is just water!” you said. “I thought it was some kind of fancy alcohol, but it’s really just water. No wonder I didn’t...”

You were about to say “Smell anything back then,” but decided to keep it to yourself. Some things should remain unknown.

“Just water?” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow. “This is pure water from the springs of Mondstadt. It’s an exquisite delicacy. Is it not so very different from the waters of Fontaine.”

You racked your brain, trying to recall the taste of Fontaine tap water. “I can’t tell the difference, really.”

“I see.” Neuvillette said and looked down. He sounded vaguely disappointed.

“Demonstrate it to me, then,” you found yourself saying. “I want to understand what you like, since we’re friends after all.”

Neuvillette looked at you then, his eyes widened imperceptibly. “Of course. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

When he returned with several carafes full of identical-looking liquid, you thought to yourself, What have I gotten myself into? But somehow, as you listened to his voice, more animated than you’d ever heard it, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel too annoyed.

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Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims

#genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x female reader #my works #the winding path of fate

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haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll · 4 months ago

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Tracklist:

For Flotsam • What Death Leaves Behind • A Portrait Of The Trequartista As A Young Man • Cemetery Gaits • Glue Me • As Lucerne/The Low • Avocado, Baby • Let It Spill • The Time Before The Last Time • Selling Rope (Swan Dive To Estuary)

Spotify ♪ Bandcamp ♪ YouTube

#hyltta-polls #polls #artist: los campesinos!#language: english #decade: 2010s #Indie Rock #Indie Pop

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waterloggedsoliloquy · 5 months ago

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for someone else

#cecil draws #sicely tecuani #lucerne lowe #carousel waltz

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floralmusings · 2 months ago

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Tag Game: Character Profile

Rules: fill out the information for one of your OCs!

Thank you for the tag @tildeathiwillwrite!

I will be doing this for Lucerne, the secondary protagonist of Unbound By The Light, as they are deserving of a lot of characterisation and context.

It is a bit long though, so if you're interested, read below the cut!

I will be tagging @melpomenelamusa, @transman-badass, @the-atlantis-project, and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it - if so, please tag me in it! On the other side of that, let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in these.

Full Name: Lucerne

Nickname: Torch, by Hazel

Species: Faceless One

Age: Unknown

Gender: Non-Binary

Appearance: Lucerne stands at 5’7, with shoulder length brown hair that would be considered filthy by most standards, and lightly tanned skin. A black mask wraps around their face, obscuring their features and sings with the low hum of holy light.

Occupation: Servant of Vigil, Goddess of Dawn

Family: Biological ; Unknown

Pets: None

Best Friend: Eventually, Ashaveth Olenna

Describe their room: They don’t have a room, but if they did, they’d want to fill it with all manner of creative things - of notebooks and sketchbooks and books on every subject they care to imagine, after having spent so long carrying the bare minimum, they would struggle with letting things go. It would be incredibly neat, but Ash would convince them that it’s okay to leave things out every now and then - no one is going to punish them for doing otherwise.

Way of speaking: Lucerne hasn’t spoken in years and so struggles to verbally communicate, opting to use sign language where possible - something that Ash taught them. On the few occasions they do speak, it is in a rough, low tone, utilising the least amount of words to say the most possible.

Physical Characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Lucerne tends to curl in towards themselves, leaving little opportunity for others to get close, eyes always scattered, looking for the next threat - they’re constantly on the move and so their general attitude is that of distrust. But when Vigil takes control of them, their mask burns brighter and brighter, and their posture becomes impeccably straight and each movement precise and coordinated.

Items in their bag/purse: Lucerne keeps very few items on them besides the essentials, but have picked up along their travels a misshapen dagger that they stole from the body of a would-be assailant, as well as a very tattered book on local flowers and herbs, annotated in a child’s handwriting.

Hobbies: Although they struggle to find enough respite and downtime to enjoy such creature comforts like hobbies, they have taken to drawing in the empty spaces of that book next to the child’s handwriting, as taught by Hazel. Their dexterity is poor and as a result, so is their penmanship, but they try.

Favorite sport: If they were to enjoy a sport, it would likely be equestrian riding - if they weren’t immediately spooked by their presence.

Abilities/talents/powers: Contrary to lore and legend, Lucerne seems to be lacking many of the gifts supposedly bestowed upon Servants by their Goddess, though the few they do maintain is their ability to recover from near any wound if in a place of worship and their uncanny reaction time. Their only ability that isn’t mentioned in any hymn or tome, is that of consciousness - free will.

Relationships (how they are with other people): Lucerne has very poor social skills, largely due to only gaining consciousness a few years ago, waking in a forest to find a mask affixed to their face and no memories to speak of. Interactions with others quickly taught them to keep themselves, that is until they stumbled across Ashaveth, the only one to treat them with any kind of normalcy - not reverence or fear. They still struggle to open up to anyone, but will tolerate those that Ash says she trusts.

Fears: Abandonment. They still question why they gained free will that day so many years ago, and oft feels as though their goddess has thrown them to wayside. They worry that one day, Ash will figure out what they haven’t and do the same.

Faults: In spite of the stories of the ruthless nature of Faceless Ones, Lucerne finds it difficult to intentionally hurt anyone, making it difficult for them to defend themselves or the ones they care about - relying on the terrifying mythos built around their mask to ward off others. That said, they struggle significantly with C-PTSD and this can cause unintentional harm towards others.

Good points: They want to do the right thing, to be good and kind and gentle. They are trying. They will never stop trying.

What they want more than anything else: To know who they were before the forest, before the mask, before they had a Goddess whispering in their head - were they even someone? Or were they created purely at the whim of a deity? They want to look in the mirror and see someone. They often try to sketch out what they think they might look like behind the mask but are frustrated by their own attempts and scribble them out.

#wip: unbound by the light #char tag: lucerne #tag game

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