I think this fandom is too normal about Petronille. WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S ONLY IN HER LATE TEENS/EARLY 20'S WHAT DO YOU MEAN?????
Like like!!!! We don't have a timeline on when Bonnie and Nille ran away from home, but it HAS to be when Bonnie was really young. Bonnie doesn't seem to remember their parents well at all, and the most we hear about them is that they were "mean". So like!!!! Depending on how old you see Bonnie (10-12ish) and how young you think the two ran away, that could range from 5 to 9 years give or take.
Thats!!!! A range!!! At the oldest Nille (say 24) she was 18 or 19 when the two ran away, which is an adult but still pretty young, but the youngest range????? Hello??? If Nille is 19 now, she could have been as young as 11 when she took Bonnie!!!! What!!!!
I don't think that's the case, but still??? If we take the average of those two, Nille would be 16!!! 16!!!!! And taking care of her sibling basically on her own!!! Nille is a kid who had to grow up too fast and take on the world to make sure Bonnie and her could survive!!! Nille's probably been fighting a good chunk of her life for their happiness and that doesn't even ACCOUNT for the abuse their parents messed her up with. And then after EVERYTHING basically sacrificed herself so Bonnie could have a chance to live from the King's Curse!!!!!
And after all that!!!! Suddenly, she's offered protection from 4 random adults who also adore her sibling and want to take care of the both of them??? What do you do with that??? Do you even BELIEVE that??? Can you even trust that someone else than you could be trusted with your baby sibling? That you can let someone else take that responsibility. The responsibility that you took on with your whole heart and soul to the point you made sure that even if you basically DIED for all that mattered, at least Bonnie would have a chance.
You've been asleep for months and woken up in a new reality where you're not your sibling's whole world anymore. They've changed. You weren't there for it. These people Iove Bonnie so much. But do they know them as much as you do??? They weren't there all this time!!! You should know your sibling better than anyone here!!!
And yet. Yet...
You don't know what to make of this. You're happy Bonnie's safe. You're terrified you don't recognize the new parts of them that have shown up without you being there.
Your sibling lives in a whole new world now. They love you. They would come back to it just being the two of you if you pushed it.
But if you do, you're not sure Bonnie would ever forgive you for it.
(Are you seeing my vision??? Do you understand why I'm not normal about Nille????)
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Wei Wuxian licks his lips and leans forward slightly, walking his fingers across the countertop aimlessly toward Lan Zhan. “You know, Lan Zhan,” he drawls, “A-Yuan says we’re both in the book.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan responds, tracking the path of his fingers intently, “I am apparently Hanguang-jun, the moral upstanding hero.”
“And I’m the devious Yiling Loazu, who led you astray,” he smirks, peering at Lan Zhan through his lashes.
Lan Zhan meets his stare, head-on, lit from within like molten sunshine. “No,” he corrects, “not astray, Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian tilts his head, waiting for him to continue. His fingers stop their dancing, resting just inches away from Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan shifts his own hand, bringing them even closer, their fingertips almost brushing.
“The Yiling Loazu did not lead Hanguang-jun astray,” he says, eyes piercing as they flicker between Wei Wuxian’s. “They were partners, and…”
“Ah,” Wei Wuxian breathes, “the decent romance?”
Lan Zhan doesn’t answer, watching him closely. The pupils of his eyes have grown so large there’s only the tiniest ring of gold around the edge. He can see himself reflected in the black. He thinks he likes the version of himself that lives in Lan Zhan’s eyes.
They’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the other to take a step forward, bracing for a fall.
It should be terrifying, this sudden drop into something completely new, something entirely unknown yet so familiar. But Wei Wuxian is filled with conviction that no matter what, Lan Zhan will catch him.
It's as electrifying as it is calming, this certainty that here, with Lan Zhan, he is safe.
Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side in a way he knows sets the unmarked skin of his neck on display. “I’m sure it was more than just decent, with a handsome hero like Hanguang-jun.”
Lan Zhan quirks an eyebrow, his gaze resting on the curve of Wei Wuxian’s neck, just as he’d hoped. "Handsome?"
“Well,” Wei Wuxian responds, tapping his index finger so it brushes against Lan Zhan’s fingertips. His skin is soft and perfect, just like the rest of him. “He isn’t wrong. You’re very handsome, Lan Zhan.”
“Really, Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says, voice quiet and deep.
“Yep, definitely worthy of being compared to the beautiful Second Jade of Lan.”
“Is that so?” Lan Zhan shifts closer, the smell of him filling up Wei Wuxian. He smells so familiar, like something he knows intimately. Sandalwood, Wei Wuxian realizes, with sudden clarity.
Lan Zhan continues, “I would love to hear more about your opinion on my beauty and prestige, Wei Ying.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Lan Zhan. Why would you care what I think?”
Lan Zhan tilts his head, only just. “Do I need to? To want to know how your brain works?”
I commissioned this lovely artwork by the wonderful @lotuslate of a scene from my fic, once upon a time, 很久很久以前 where the entire cultivation world is cursed to live in the modern world without their memories and abilities, but of course wangxian find a way to fall in love all over again.
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Heyyy, long time no post, huh? I'm dropping another chunk of stasis in darkness for you guys! And I wanted to remind people that these posts are basically rough drafts. The final product will hopefully be more polished but in the meantime please enjoy!
--
After Steve convinced the old man he meant no harm, he’d been allowed into the home. The Lord of Night hadn’t been super specific about the purpose of his quest, only that Steve had to bring him to Wayne Munson. Steve discreetly looked around the home as he entered it. The old man was obviously unwell and had been for a while, given the state of the house. Steve had the creeping suspicion that the time limit the Lord of Night mentioned was linked to the man’s health.
“What are you doing?” Wayne Munson asked suspiciously once he had returned to the kitchen with Steve in tow. He had sat heavily in one of the old worn chairs at the table but Steve, instead of joining him, began to clear the table on impulse. Steve halted awkwardly.
“This ain’t your house, boy,” Wayne said with a scowl. “I can take care of myself.”
Steve did his very best not to look at the scattered mess in the kitchen or living room. It was not the mess of a dirty, careless person. It was the mess of someone tired and overwhelmed. It was the mess of someone in pain who was too proud to ask for help. Steve took in Wayne Munson’s watery eyes, wan skin, and the clothes that were plain things, tattered from use, but mostly stain-free. Steve quickly added all these details and came up with a plan of attack. He set the plate back down.
“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed easily. “I’m aware, but I serve the Lord of Night and he sent me to you specifically. In our god’s name, I must assist you in any way I can.”
Wayne’s expression wavered. Steve pushed again. He lowered his gaze in a slightly embarrassed manner, letting a note of uncertainty color his words.
“I don’t know what else to do until nightfall,” Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I don’t want him to think I’ve neglected you.”
“What happens at nightfall?” Wayne asked.
“It’s when the Lord of Night wants to see you,” Steve said. Wayne blinked.
“Me? He wants to see me?”
“Yeah! So, if you could please let me,” Steve said, putting on his most endearing smile, “I’d like to take care of you until then. You know, make sure you’re comfortable and get the place ready for a divine visit. If it’s not too much trouble, sir?”
“Uh, no, that should be fine. Is…is there anything I should do?” Wayne asked dazedly.
“Not really. All I know is he really wants to see you tonight. Oh, maybe you’d like to rest until then? A nap, so you’re not drowsy when he arrives.”
Wayne nods, still in shock at the news. He didn’t protest when Steve helped him out of the chair and let him lean his weight on him as they navigated to the bedroom. Wayne sat on the bed as Steve drew curtains closed over the room’s single window. The curtains were thick enough to dim the sun to a pale yellow glow.
“I didn’t know there was anyone else who followed him,” Wayne said as he lay himself down over the covers.
"He told me you’re the only one left, besides me,” Steve told him. “And I only discovered him a month ago by accident.”
“By accident?” Wayne asked with a wry grin.
“My friends found a holy text when we were researching other gods. It was the only one of his in the city's whole library. Then we had a hell of a time trying to find his last shrine. When I finally found it, it was falling apart. He’s been forgotten,” Steve said. At Wayne’s troubled expression, he hurriedly added, “But now that I’ve pledged myself to him, I’m going to make sure people know him again.”
Wayne did not appear convinced, but he finally settled to rest after Steve promised to wake him before sunset. Steve took the opportunity to clean. He hadn’t been lying to Wayne when he said he wasn’t sure what to do until nightfall. It didn’t help that Steve also liked to keep himself busy. Being idle made him itch.
The house was small. Aside from Wayne's bedroom, there was only a cramped kitchen and a modest living room. From the small window of the backdoor, Steve could see a short, worn path to an outhouse.
Given the size of the house, though there was a mess everywhere, it didn’t take Steve very long to clean it all. When it was done to his satisfaction, there were still a few hours left until sunset so he wandered outside. The porch railing was covered with broad green leaves from intertwining vines but Steve left that alone when he saw the small garden nearby. It was full of ripe vegetables that Steve assumed Wayne had been unable to pick himself given his condition.
By the time Steve had picked the vegetables, pulled the weeds, and watered the garden, the sun hung low in the horizon. He cleaned himself up the best he could in the kitchen sink and took one of the chairs from the table to the bedroom before waking Wayne.
He told Wayne what he accomplished during Wayne’s repose. While Wayne expressed his gratitude politely enough, it was still apparent to Steve that the old man was irritated at having needed the assistance at all. To keep Wayne from dwelling on that, as well as to satisfy his own curiosity, he coaxed Wayne into conversation.
“Can I ask, uh, how you–I mean, how did you know? How did you know the Lord of Night existed?"
Wayne laughed at Steve’s befuddled tone. The laugh turned into a coughing fit. Steve quickly fetched him a glass of water and put it on the bedside table after Wayne had a drink.
“My family’s a bunch of no-good criminals,” Wayne croaked. “Were. It’s only me now. But before, each generation of Munsons took it up. Like a family tradition.”
“Criminals?” asked Steve cautiously.
“Thieves and con men. Some ladies of the night, if you catch my meaning. They knew of our Lord of Night and passed the knowledge down,” Wayne sighed sadly. “The life of a criminal ain’t what you call stable. We lost bits and pieces of him with every generation. Like his name. No one’s known his name for a very long time. Is that why he wants to see me? Did I fail him?”
There was genuine distress in Wayne’s question so Steve hid his disappointment. He had hoped the Lord of Night’s last worshiper would at least have a clue about where to start the search for the lost name. He focused, instead, on reassuring the old man.
“I don’t know why he wants to see you, but he wasn’t angry when he sent me. He sounded excited.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Wayne said uncertainly.
“Definitely,” Steve assured. Before Wayne could sink into his gloom again, Steve said, “I know you said you’ve lost some knowledge, but do you know if the Lord of Night has any prayers? I haven’t…I mean, I’ve tried to worship him but I don’t think I can do it right without a prayer. I’m kind of new at all this.”
“My ma used to say our Lord didn’t have patience for formalities,” Wayne said, brow furrowed. “They bored him so he only had a few official prayers. There was one where we’d thank him for any dreams he gave us. I think there was another one that asked for dreams to bring inspiration or something of that sort. I don’t really remember those–ma would be boxing my ears for that if she was still around. I remember the one for protection, since we used that one a lot. It goes:
Lord of Night,
Guide us through all phases
Of the moon;
May the dark be free of
All dangers,
While your many stars burn.
Wayne’s voice cracked into a coughing fit near the end. Steve hurriedly offered him water again once Wayne had caught it again. Wayne took a few mouthfuls and repeated the prayer again so Steve could learn it. It took a few tries, but Wayne was patient and by the end of it, Steve had it memorized.
“Is that the only one?” Steve asked, hoping to learn more. Wayne grimaced.
“It’s the only one I really remember. The Lord of Night prefers stories. My ma would tell us the best bedtime stories. Said they were for our god as much as for me and my brother. I was never good at coming up with new stories, so I retell my favorites or tell our Lord about my days and give him a little offering.”
Steve wasn't much of a story teller. He supposed he could do as Wayne did until he met up with Robin and Dustin again. They constantly chatted about books they’d read. Steve couldn’t help but notice how, once again, his friends seemed a better fit for his god than he was; all Steve could give his god was his shield and sword. It was discouraging. He had to figure out a way to make up for it somehow.
“What kind of offerings?” Steve asked.
He wanted to give his god more; he wanted to give the Lord of Night something he’d actually like. It wasn’t lost on him that the Lord of Night took him under duress. Who else would’ve been able to complete this quest?
“When I was young, it was horse shoes,” Wayne chuckled at Steve’s confusion. “Thieves are supposed to give him a part of their loot but my ma and pa were horse thieves. They got horseshoes and would leave one for each horse they stole, tied with a braid made of the stolen horse’s mane.”
“You stole horses?” Steve said, unable to fight off a grin as he remembered the conversation he had with the Lord of Night about it.
“Me and my brother, before he passed,” Wayne said with a weak nod.
The sky had darkened by now. Steve pulled the stone out of his satchel. He carefully unwrapped it from the cloth and set it gently on the bedside table next to the glass of water. Wayne eyed it quizzically.
“It’s from his shrine,” Steve explained. Without any further fussing, Steve stood up and went to the door.
“Don’t leave,” the Lord of Night said.
Steve turned to see the god, hooded in his cloak of constellations, sitting in the chair Steve had vacated. The Lord of Night had not even glanced Steve's way when he spoke to him. The god’s attention rested solely on Wayne.
Steve hadn’t seen or spoken to the Lord of Night since he’d been accepted as his holy warrior. The god had needed to conserve his energy, he explained to Steve, so that Steve could complete his quest. The god’s cloak was as mesmerizing as the first time. However, this far from the shrine, the god did not look as solid as he had during the nights he spent with Steve.
“I wanted to give you two some privacy,” Steve said softly.
“I think Wayne would appreciate not being alone,” the Lord of Night said.
The old man stared at the god unblinkingly. Wayne’s expression was one of awe and fear, so Steve did as he was told and stayed in the room though he chose to lean on the wall furthest from the pair. He was still close to them in the tiny bedroom, but it provided the pretense of privacy.
“My Lord?” Wayne’s voice was barely audible.
“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said.
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