#marou

[marunashi]

Marunashi’s OC lore, sorry I’m not really experienced or good at writing…

Will add illustrations with time 💜

Chapter one, Arsène.

What a pity it has to be like this, the good people always end up being the ones being punished aren’t they.

Whether it’d be by fate or by cruel minded people, that’s where being nice leads you to. That’s exactly what Arsène thought as he stared at the empty chapel in the woods, he’d protect the kind people, only he could do it right? All of the humans were sinful and could never serve others like he could.

The chapel stood in silence, its weathered stone walls bathed in the faint glow of twilight. Moss and vines embraced the once-sacred structure, Arsène stood at the entrance, already visualizing the paradise he’d create within.

“I’ll save them” he murmured to the wind. “I will make it all better.”

The chapel wasn’t just a monument to lost beliefs—it was a graveyard for humanity as it was. Arsène had seen too much cruelty in his years wandering among others, and each new act of selfishness, betrayal, or malice had driven a deeper wedge between him and the people he had once sworn to protect. Yet, ironically, it was their failures that had led him to this realization: only he, pure of intention and unshaken by their sins, could protect the good people.

He stepped inside the chapel, his boots echoing on the cracked stone floor. Sunlight filtered through the broken stained glass windows, painting fractured rainbows on the walls, but instead of a light of hope it felt like the shattered promise he believed in before leaving his previous church.

He almost felt it, the peace of a cleansed humanity, but it all came crumbling down as he discovered the one he looked up to was no better than the rest of them.

Arsène ran a hand along the broken altar and scoffed. It was fitting, he thought, that this place had been forgotten. Humans were too busy tearing each other apart to honor something greater than themselves. And yet, he was here. Picking up the pieces.

After long hours of giving a new life to this long forgotten place, The first person to arrive at the chap was a woman named Lila. She had stumbled into the clearing one night, soaked from a sudden rainstorm and clutching a gash in her side. Arsène had watched her from the doorway, his face a mask of indifference.

“Please, father I need help” she gasped, collapsing on the chapel steps.

He could have turned her away. It would have been easy to let the forest deal with her. But instead, Arsène stepped forward, hauling her inside like she was a sack of grain. He patched her up with herbs and a steady hand, his expression never softening.

“You’re lucky I’m merciful you know that? Why were you out there? What did you do that made you end up in such way” he asked once she was strong enough to speak.

“They accused me,” she said, eyes fixed on the floor. “Of poisoning the well. I was only trying to clean it.”

Arsène had snorted. Of course they had. People always feared what they didn’t understand. But when Lila looked up at him, her eyes full of desperate hope, he had felt something else: the satisfaction of being needed, of being a savior.

“Stay,” he told her. “There’s nothing for you out there anyway.”

She stayed. Others followed.

Over the years, Arsène’s settlement grew. It was a motley collection of misfits and outcasts: thieves, accused witches, the wounded and the broken. Some came willingly, drawn by whispered tales of a sanctuary in the woods. Others were less willing—those Arsène had plucked from danger, dragging them back to the chapel whether they wanted saving or not. He always managed to convince them they needed it.

He laid down rules, strict and unyielding. There would be no stealing, no lying, no betrayal, only people he deemed good were deserving of staying and be protected. Those who broke his rules faced swift punishment—banishment at best, and at worst, something far more permanent. The ends justified the means after all.

Deep down, Arsène relished the power he wielded. He told himself he was protecting the good people, the kind ones who couldn’t survive on their own. But he also knew that kindness alone didn’t create order. Fear did, that’s how humans were, mere sheep’s that needed guidance.

One evening, Lila confronted Arsène as he strolled the edge of the garden.

“You banished Willem today, He stole because he was starving. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.”

Arsène didn’t stop walking neither his expression nor step faltered. “Rules are rules, he didn’t get food for a reason, he needed to learn a lesson. However those who sin cannot be redeemed.”

“Then what makes you any different from the people you say you’re protecting us from?” She demanded.

That made Arsène stop. He turned to face the young woman, his eyes hard. “What makes me different? I get results. That’s what. The rest of the world is chaos, child. People lying, stealing, killing. Here, there’s order and peace, humanity. And if that costs something, so be it.”

Lila stared at him, disappointment etched into her face. “You talk about protecting good people. But you don’t care about kindness. You just want everyone to listen to you.”

For a moment, Arsène said nothing. Then, his lips curved into a bitter smile. “Kindness doesn’t matter, Lila. Order does. Without it, people destroy each other. So, you can hate me if you want. But don’t pretend the world out there is better. If you want to go back to your old, miserable life I’m not stopping you. Go back to living on the street, begging for a piece of rotten bread because that’s all you’re worth there.”

Lila had a bitter look on her face as she stormed away, and Arsène watched her go, with the same unwavering smile and cold eyes as always.

The community thrived because Arsène demanded it. He kept the outside world at bay, convinced that he was protecting them, but sometimes, when he looked out at the settlement, he wondered if he had simply built a smaller, more controlled version of the cruelty he had sworn to escape.

But these doubts were quickly silenced as soon as he witnessed the reality of the world outside his chapel.

What mattered was that they were alive. What mattered was that they followed his rules. What mattered was that Arsène was in control.

After all, if not him, who else could do it?

[lou-bonfightme]

The Windows Over the City (First Part, Second Motif) || [Marou]

In which Marie come to Meadowview to attend therapy with Toulouse…[takes place: mid-November]

@marie-a-bonfamille

[cw – talk of mental health, references to suicide and suicidal ideation]

|| || ||

TOULOUSE: Marie had arrived yesterday, late enough in the afternoon that they had only managed a quick stroll through the gardens before heading to dinner. (Yes, Toulouse could leave. He was there voluntarily.) 

Dinner was pleasant enough. Toulouse asked Marie plenty of questions, about their mother, Nounou, Amelia and Abigail, her insipid boyfriend. Anything that would distract Marie from asking him questions. About how he was. How things were going. He felt a buzzing under his skin that he hadn’t felt since arriving at Meadowview. 

It energized him. But, at the same time, he felt suddenly, immediately, exhausted by it. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he came to Meadowview. All his responsibilities had melted away and he became someone who simply--slept. 

He had been sleeping until he saw Marie’s face. The first familiar thing. 

Yet, she also brought with her those responsibilities. Everything that Lou had been happy to leave behind. Now, they had a therapy session scheduled and Toulouse already felt exhausted. Guilty and horrible. Yet, he met Marie at the front desk when she checked in--smiled at her, kissed her cheek--then led her to Dr. Horne’s now-familiar office. 

Dr. Horne had a discerning personality. She was not overly coddling and she wore sensible, designer suits. Today’s was a maroon Yves St. Laurent that complimented the autumn leaves outside the large bay windows of her office. She had half-moon glasses that she liked to look over the top of when she knew you were lying about something. She always stood to greet her patients when they entered the room and today was no different.

|| || ||

[link here]

|| || ||

[rausule]

KAMEROEN Ka_meroena

Die Here toelaat. Latynse

Iamo Ruan.

Laart van Kameroen

Marou.

Land van stomende oerwoude en dorre woestyne

Gar

TSJAD

Benus

Rei Bo

NIGERIE

Adamaoua

Ngaoundere ins Adamaoua-

gebergte

Miere

10000 mm reen-meer as op enige ander plek in Afrika-word jaarliks by die reenmeter op Debundja aan die hange van die Kameroenberg gemeet. Dag ná dag. week na week stort die reen hier neer op 'n sto mende oerwoud waarin daar geen seisoene bestaan nie, en waar selfs die nag kwalik verligting bring van die ondraaglik bedompige van

die ekwatoriale Afrika Maar 'n mens moenie die fout maak om te dink dat die hele Kame roen een groot tropiese reënwoud is nie. Kameroen is 'n taamlik groot land (met sy 475 442 km is dit groter as die Vrystaat en Transvaal saam), en hoewel sy noordpunt minder as 15 noord van die wanaar 10, is 'n aansienlike deel van die binneland, wat aan die onherbergsame Sahara grens, feitlik 'n woestyn. Hier is die gemiddelde jaarlikse reen val 400 mm of minder, en in die vroee deel van die jaar word die ver sengende hitte bowendien vererger deur 'n droë wind uit die Sahara Gelukkig kom die heersende winde uit die suide en suidweste, 'n fit wat daarvoor verantwoordelik is dat daar wel 'n bietjie roen val

Die groot klimaat-uiterstes wat Kameroen ondervind, kan ten dele, toegeskryf word aan sy eienaardige driehoekvorm. (In die noorde strok die land met 'n lang tong tot aan die walle van die Tajad-meer art regs) Die bou en die natuurlike plantbedekking is gevolglik op pale gevarieerd. Die suidelike en sentrale hoogland word heel in die suide begryns deur laaglande met digte tropiese reënwoude, en in die weste deur 'n breé tropiese kusvlakte. Noordwaarts loop die hoog- land uit in betrek hoe bergreekse wat met 'n wye boog van die Kameroenbergreeks naby die kus noordooswaarts strek. Die hoogste spite in die bergreeksen Kameroenberg, in 4070 m hoog en soms selfs met sneeu bedek Hierdie vulkaan se jongste uitbarsting was in 1922 Verder noordooswaarts gaan de Kameroenberge oggin die hauwniagtige Adamaous-gebied en nog verder noord, aan die oors

van die Tajad-meer, 18 'n moerasagtige laangebied Verske groot riviere dreineer die binneland Deur die suidelike hoogland vioel die Sanaga, die Nyong en 'n aantal kleiner riviere, wat almal in die Golf van Biatra uitmond. Die belangrikste rivier in die noorde is die Benue, die grootste takrivier van die Niger, wat noord- waarts ne Nigerie vloel. Hoewel die Sanaga 'n bree riviar is, is hy vari weinig waarde as 'n verkeersweg want vanweë watervalle, stroomver anellings an'n te lae watervlak in die droë seisoen is slegs klein entjies van die rivier bevaarbaar. Dieselfde geld vir die ander riviere

Tibati

Mbam

Bament

Foumban

Bambolo-

gebergle

MIDDE- AFR. REPU- BLIEK

Dengdend Lom

K

A

M anaga

Ro

odel Rey Nkongsamba.

E

Baton

KAMERDENBENG

Nange Eboko

Doume

Sanage

R

DOUALA

YAOUNDE OM Balmayo

Edea

Hyong

Golf

van

Kribio

Baumbe

E

N VOORUITSTREWENDE STAAT

Campo

Kameroen is een van die mees vooruitstrewende state in tropiese Afrika, en sy ekonomie berus hoofsaaklik op die landbou en bosbou in die droë noorde word giers verbou en beeste en bokke aangehou In die suidweste is koffie en piesangs die belangrikste produkte, terwyl

EKWATORIALE GUINEE!

GABOEN

KONGO

PLANTE- EN DIERELEWE

Die gevarieerde omgewingstoestande bring mee dat 'n groot verskeidenheid plante en diere in Kameroen voorkom Die suidelike laagland word bed deur tropiese reenwoude met die tipiese plantegroei van die soort streak die moerasgebiede van die noorde groei riet, rottang en raffiapalms, terwy fugwortelbome (mangroves) aan die kus voorkom. Dieper die binneland in Grondboontjies, mango's, @altnevrugte kakan, kole.

TEKS IN OORLEG MET DR JN STRYN

kakao in die suidelike streek verbou word. Koffie. kakao en hout is die belangrikste uitvoerprodukte. Sedert die ontdekking van olie in Kameroen se Auswaters en bauxiet (aluminiumerts) by Ngaoun- dere in die binnelandt het die mynwese vinnig ge- groel. Tans lewer dit 'n belangrike bydrae tot die and se uitvoer en volksinkome Die meeste van die Iland se krag word by die Edea-hidroelektriese skema in de Sanagarivier opgewek, waar ook 'n aluminiumsmeltery opgerig is

Exonomiese ontwikkeling word vertraag deur 'n gebrek aan 'n goeie verkeersnetwerk. Tog is daar reeds twee spoorlyne voltooi. Die een verbind die hawe van Douala met Nkongsamba, terwyl die ander tot by Ngaoundere in die binneland strek. Die pad- verbindings word eweneens verbeter. Hoewel Douala deur 'n hoofpad verbind word met Ndjamena die hoofstad van die Republiek Tsjad in die noorde is die pad so swak dat dit maklikeris om die van die noordelike streek op die Benuerivier deur Nigerie uit te voer.

Danksy die land se betreklike politieke stabilitet die regering se verstandige ontwikkelingsbeleid. vorder Kameroen ekonomies, en die per capita inkomste van byna R400 per jaar vergelyk gunstig met die van sommige van sy bure.

'N GEMENGDE BEVOLKING

Kameroen het 'n uiters gemengde bevolking, en volgens berekening word die land deur meer as 200 verskillende inboorlingstamme bewoon. Die kus strook en die suidelike woudgebied is die tuiste van Bantoestamme, die getalsterkste etniese groep in die land inde noorde woon in groot verskeidenheid Negerstamme, en in die sentrale gebied is daar stamme met tale wat verwant is aan dié van sowel die Bantoes as die Negers. In die noorde word ook hee wat groepe van Arabiese afkoma aangetref. Die oor spronklike bewoners van die land was waarskynlik pigmee, wat nou siegs nog in verspreide groepies in die suidelike woude voorkom. Daar is tans hoog- stens 10 000 van hierdie interessante inwoners van Midde-Afrika in Kameroen oor.

Vanweë die ondraaglike klimaat het blankes hulle

nooit in groot getalle in Kameroon gevestig nie. Tana

Is daar slegs sowat 12000 blankes, hoofsaaklik

Franso, in die land, uit 'n totale bevolking van sowat 9,6 miljoen.

BEKNOPTE GESKIEDENIS

Die gebied aan die Golf van Biafra is aan die einde

van die 15de eeu deur die Portugese seevaarder

word 'n groot verskeidenheid immergroen bome aangetret, en in die hoër dele kom tropiese graslande voor. In die noorde gaan die land oor danngboswereld

Die dierelewe is byna net so gevarieerd as die plantegroel in die reinwoude inef om gorillas en sjimpansees, asook duisende reptiele

Inboorlinghulte met in eienaardige vorm in die binneland

INVOER Brandstof Voertuie

UITVOER Aluminium Katoen Koffie Rubber Palmolie Petroleum Hout

Fernando Po ontdek, wat die grootste inham aan die kus die Rio dos Cameroes (Rivier van die Garnale) genoem hat vandaar die naam Kameroen. In die- 17de en die 18de eeu is verskeie handelsposte aan- die kus gestig, maar sonder veel welstae. Die kus- stamme van die Douala-gebied het geen ontdekkers toegelaat om die binneland te besoek nie en het as tussengangers fussen die blanke handelaars en die binnelandse stamme opgetree 'n Aantal van die hoofmanno aan die kus het trouens skatryk geword uit die handel in rubber, ivoor en slawe

Teen die einde van die 18de eeu was die handel hoofsaaklik in Britse hande, en in 1835 het die koning van Bimbia 'n strook land aan die kus aar Brittanje afgestaan. In 1884 het die Duitse Afrika- reisiger Gustav Nachtigal, wat van 1869 tot 1885 ver- skeie ontdekkingstogte na Midde-Afrika onderneem het (sien bl 2551), 'n verdrag met 'n aantal stam- hoofde gesluit, waardeur Kameroen 'n Duitse

kolonie geword het. Nieteenstaande aanvanklike Britse en Franse teenkanting is die Duitse aanspraak op die gebied later erken.

Tydens die Eerste Wêreldoorlog het Franse en Britse troepe die Duitse kolanie beset, en na die oor- log is die gebied verdeel in 'n groot Franse en 'n veel kleiner Britse mandaatgebied

Op 7 Januarie 1960 het die Franse Kameroon 'n onafhanklike republiek geword onder die leiding van pres. Ahmadou Ahidjo. Op 1 Oktober 1961 het die Britse Kameroen eweneens onafhanklikheid ver kry. Daar is toe deur middel van 'n volkstemming besluit om die suidelike deel van dié gebied by die voormalige Franse Kameroen en die noordelike deel by Nigerie in te lyf (sien bl. 2308) Pres. Ahidjo, wat outoritér geregeer het, het in 1982 bedank en is op- gevolg deur die eerste minister. Paul Biya, wat in 1984 herkies is. Die ontwikkelingspell van die be- volking is egter steeds baie laag, en kwalik 15 persent van die bevolking kan lees en skryf. Frans en Engels is die amptelike tale

Die enigste belangrike stede is Douala (950000 inwoners) aan die kus en Yaounde (660000 inwo- ners), die hoofstad, wat in die binneland le. Douala, die belangrikste hawe van Kameroen en een van die grootstes aan die hele Wes-Afrikaanse kus, het ook 'n moderne internasionale lughawe

TEKS IN OORLEG MET P WESTERHUYSEN

en insekte. Aan die woudrande en op die grasvlaktes hou olitante, wildsbokke, buffels, kameelperde en swartrenosters. In die riviere kam seokoaie en kro- kodille voor, terwyl 'n groot verskeidenheid tropiese volls in alle dele van Kamerben aangetref word.

[higaki]

柚子とカカオ #カヌレ堂 #CANELÉduJAPON #MAROU https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpq5dxyvEMt/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[the-real-jojo]

oh , he's glow-in-the-dark !!!!!!

[thecutiecollective]

Marous Tzaneti

IG: MarousoTzaneti

Marous is represented by Agencia Models

[wtf-a-psychoanalysis]

This man has done irreparable damage to my psyche

Here’s some drawings of him

Kuroo was definitely crushing, changing his taste in men forever.

Bro was punching air when the guy he hates the most for killing people (kiriko) kinda looks like the guy he had a crush on who happened to commit first degree murder and manslaughter (Hyakki)

Edit: Yabu isn't homophobic he just ships Kiriko with Kuroo

[hi-im-otter]

hi everyone!! im happy to present my piece for Hunter x Hunter Big Bang 2023!! @hxhbigbang23

i was assigned to illustrate @caecia’s amazing fic „Across the Winedark Sea” wich you can read here its a leopika pirate au and its absolutely incredible!

under the cut: a textless version and + bonus kurapika concept doodle as i was planning something else first :p

im really glad i took part and am amazed by the mods efforts and hard work beacuse thanks to them the event was a super fun experience!

[tank041]

Genderbend Aqours

[blackvulturezart]

[curejune]

2023 - 2013

i had a lot of fun drawings in 2013

[marunashi]

Chapter 3, the Russian man

Marou was no longer a child by the time Fyodor arrived at the chapel. She was eighteen now, pale except from freckles scattered across her cheeks. Her hollow red eyes and demeanor only added to her ghostly appearance. She rarely spoke unless spoken to, her movements quiet and deliberate, as though she didn’t even exist when you didn’t pay close attention to her.

Arsène had shaped her into what he called a “divine vessel,” but the community whispered other words when he wasn’t listening: broken, empty, lost.

The day Fyodor arrived, the chapel was quiet as usual. The man had appeared at the edge of the woods, a tall figure dressed in a dark coat, his sharp features framed by the frost of early winter. He carried himself with an air of calm authority, his violet eyes scanning the building with a detached curiosity.

He approached the chapel steps slowly, his boots crunching on the snow-covered ground. Arsène stood waiting for him at the entrance, arms crossed.

“Welcome,” Arsène said, his voice warm but laced with caution. “What brings you to our sanctuary, traveler?”

Fyodor inclined his head politely, his expression unreadable. “I’ve heard stories,” he said in a thick Russian accent. “Of a place where outcasts are given refuge. A community of peace, led by a man with… strong convictions.”

Arsène’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You’ve heard correctly. We welcome those who seek safety and purpose. If you’re looking for either, you’ve come to the right place.”

Fyodor’s eyes flicked over Arsène, as if measuring him. “I prefer to judge a man by what he does, not what others say about him.” He said with a polite smile.

Arsène gestured for him to come inside. “Then judge for yourself. You’ll find no lies here, only a sanctuary for the deserving.”

Fyodor stayed for several days, observing the community with quiet interest. He was polite but distant, offering only few details about himself and asking pointed questions that made some of the residents uneasy. It wasn’t until he met Marou that his detachment gave way to something sharper.

He found her sitting alone in the chapel, her frail frame bent over a prayer bench. She didn’t even look up when he entered.

“You must be Marou,” he said, his voice cold but clear despite being softer than usual.

She turned to him at the sound of her name. Her eyes carried a dullness that made her look like a corpse. “Yes,” she answered, it didn’t sound like a young woman, more like a machine with prerecorded answers.

Fyodor crouched to meet her gaze. “They say you’re special,” he breathed. “That you’ve been blessed.”

Marou’s lips twitched with a slight, uncanny smile. “Is that what they say?”.

He tilted his head, studying her. “You don’t look blessed to me.”

Her expression didn’t change, but her hands clenched into fists on her lap.

Fyodor exhaled through his nose and pat her shoulder.

“I’ll put you out of your misery.”

That night, Fyodor confronted Arsène.

“You’ve built a strange sanctuary,” he said, standing in the dimly lit chapel as Arsène prepared for the evening prayer.

Arsène glanced at him. “It’s not strange. It’s necessary. This is a place for the lost, the broken. I give them purpose.”

Fyodor’s lips turned into a mocking smile. “You give them fear.”

Arsène paused, his hands resting on the altar. “You don’t understand. What I’ve built here, what I’ve done—it’s for their good. For the greater good. Marou especially. She’s the key to everything. You’re only a stranger not capable of seeing the bigger picture.”

“I’ve seen her,” Fyodor said sharply. “She’s exhausted, scarred. You’ve turned her into a shell of a human. And for what? Your belief that her bones are divine?”

“They are divine,” Arsène said, his voice rising. “You’ve seen the artifacts. They’ve healed the sick, protected us from harm. Her suffering isn’t meaningless—it’s sacred.”

Fyodor stepped closer, his voice cold. “Sacred? You wound her again and again, taking pieces of her as though she’s nothing more than a resource. Whatever power you think you’re harnessing, it’s sinful and disgusting, her special ability itself is a curse from heavens.”

Arsène’s eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Marou understands her role. She accepts it.”

“Does she?” Fyodor asked. “Or has she simply given up because you’ve taken everything from her?”

The silence that followed was heavy, the tension between the two men crackling like a storm about to break. Arsène’s hands curled into fists, as he slammed them on the altar but Fyodor didn’t flinch.

“She’s a small price to pay to cleanse this world!” His voice echoed in the empty chapel.

“You think you’re righteous,” Fyodor continued, his tone icy. “But all I see is a sinner hiding behind faith to justify his cruelty.”

Arsène took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Be careful, Fyodor. You’re a guest here. Don’t overstep.”

Fyodor didn’t back down, he had a convinced and confident smile on his face “What would you do about it?”

Marou, as sneaky as she was, listened to their argument out of their sight. Her chest tightening with a mixture of fear and anticipation. No one had ever stood up to Arsène like that before. But could Fyodor really change anything? Or would he, like everyone else, eventually fall under Arsène’s control?

For the first time in years, a flicker of rebellion sparked in her heart.

The day after, she woke up to screams of horror of the other residents of the chapel. In the early rays of sunshine, stood the caped figure of the Russian traveler, soaked in the blood of the sinners of her community. His head turned to Marou, a dangerous look on his face. The girl just stared back at him before she turned away from him, walking away from the chapel.

“Where do you think you’re going” Fyodor commented, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t save you because I like you,” he said bluntly, his voice as sharp and cold as the frost beneath their feet. “What’s inside you… it’s unnatural. A corruption.”

Marou didn’t flinch, she said nothing, lowering her gaze to the dirt like she always did when chastised.

“Then why?” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible over the rustling of the trees.

Fyodor regarded her with a mix of disdain and reluctant pity. “Because what he’s doing is worse than what you are,” he said simply. “It’s grotesque. A man like him, preying on weakness and twisting it into power—it offends me. It’s an insult to God.”

She looked up at him then, her hollow eyes searching his face.

“You’re alive,” Fyodor replied, his tone flat. “That’s enough. But don’t expect kindness from me. I’m no savior. I’m simply removing a stain from this world—both his and yours. With no one to hurt you, your sinful ability will no longer be of use”

Marou stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning on his heel without waiting for her.

“Go where, you want me to go with you?” She questioned.

“Do you have anywhere else to go to?” He remarked.

“No.” Marou’s hands clenched on her skirt her legs instinctively following him.

The journey was grueling. Fyodor moved quickly, his long strides forcing Marou to struggle to keep up. He didn’t offer her help when she stumbled, nor did he slow his pace when she lagged behind.

“You’ll keep up or you’ll be left behind,” he said curtly the first time she fell.

Marou picked herself up without complaint, the sting of his words somehow less painful than Arsène’s soft, poisonous reassurances had been. At least this was honest.

As the days passed, Fyodor’s disgust for her ability became clear.

One night, when they stopped to rest, Marou cradled her arm, still healing from one of Arsène’s last “rituals.” The bone had been fractured and extracted before she escaped, and her body was still knitting itself back together. She flinched as the bone shifted under her skin, a sickening, unnatural motion that made Fyodor’s lip curl.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his tone devoid of sympathy.

“A lot,” she admitted quietly.

He watched her for a moment, his gaze hard. “Good.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback.

“That pain is the price of what you are,” Fyodor said. “You can heal yourself, twist your body back into place like clay. It’s… abominable. But at least it’s not free.”

Marou looked away, her face burning with shame.

Despite his coldness, Fyodor didn’t abandon her. He scouted their path carefully, ensuring they avoided other travelers and potential threats. When they ran low on food, he paid for it.

“You shouldn’t need my help,” he muttered once as he handed her a piece of roasted meat. “If you’re so special.”

Marou took the food without arguing. She knew better than to talk back when people’s temper flared.

“Arsène took me in when I was 10. I never lived outside of his chapel.. Why did you take me from there?”

Fyodor didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the fire. “Because I couldn’t stand the sight of you there. Watching you crawl at that man’s feet like a beaten dog—willingly, no less—it was pathetic. And it disgusted me.”

Marou’s throat tightened, but she managed to blurt out.

“He’s my savior, he provided for me and was nice to me…”

“Arsène is a monster,” Fyodor continued, his voice cold. “But you let yourself become his plaything. That’s why I took you—not because you’re worth saving, but because watching you rot there offended me and the saints themselves.”

The words were harsh, but there was a strange clarity in them. He didn’t try to dress up his motives in false kindness or lofty ideals.

Marou nodded slowly. “Then what now?”

“Now,” Fyodor said, rising to his feet, “you prove you’re more than the broken tool he made you into. Or you don’t. That’s up to you.”

For the first time in years, Marou felt something stir inside her. It wasn’t hope—not yet—but a faint, flickering defiance. Fyodor’s cruelty was different from Arsène’s; it didn’t seek to control her, only to confront her with the truth.

If she was going to survive, she realized, it wouldn’t be because of him. It would be because of her.

[lou-bonfightme]

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loubonfamille: joyeux anniversaire ma petit lapine 🩷🩷

[heatwa-ves]

omg tia happy bday!!!! im sending you love and hugs and your fav candy and i hope you have a wonderful day!! ily sm bestie!!!!! ♡♡💚🍡💖🍬🍭

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[davidca]

Many are stuck in jobs and careers that they’ve outgrown, or no longer bring them joy, In this episode, Jim Marous, Top 5 Retail Banking Influencer, Global Speaker, Podcast Host, and Co-Publisher of The Financial Brand and I discuss the catalysts in his life that inspired him to start his business, overcome fears, take risks, and embrace change.

[the-real-jojo]

marou .

supreme kaioshin apprentice of U13