#snowverse au

[snow-system-wol]

Reaper Menphina AU, born from us leveling Reaper while in a glam for Menphina (~2.6k)

(Warning: Snowverse typical vague references to abuse, mentions of blood and violence)

(While this is a different canon than snowverse, any implications about S'ria's 13th shard made here are canon)

Slipping out of the city was the easy part.

The walls were a clear landmark, the troops marching through hid a small figure heading the opposite way. Menphina's heart pounded as she snuck past clanking armor and machinery, and then she was out. She wasn't afraid of being spotted – wrapped in a pale coat as she was, under the cover of night and with the storm slowly kicking up around her. 

No, it was the storm that scared her, and the horror of emptiness. Menphina could no longer see far in front of her, but it was all… so big. She'd never been in a room larger than the manor’s lounge in a decade. Stepping out onto the ice plains may as well have been an infinite void, with an impossible number of directions to travel.

The very first one she chose was away, opposite the gate she'd exited – angled off from the main road she'd seen the soldiers enter from. As she walked, the storm worsened, visibility dropped further, and her damp coat seemed to do less and less to cut the chill. She was trying to tuck her hands away as much as possible to protect them, but the blood left on her skin had frozen within minutes of getting outside. The snow she stumbled through was at knee height, snow regularly falling into her oversized stolen boots.

It was too cold, wind too sharp. The next time she had a clear view of her surroundings, she turned towards the sheer cliffs and mountains. If nothing else, maybe she could find somewhere to huddle that would block the wind. She did not want S'ria to die now that they could finally have a chance to live.

Menphina had hoped for a small niche to shove herself in. She had not thought to find a cave – and expected even less to find one that was so clearly furnished. (Though, luckily, long abandoned).

Being out of the storm already helped, but it also made her feel more keenly how cold and damp she still was. As she explored the cave, eyes quickly adjusting to the lack of light, she found sectioned off living quarters, stocked with bedrolls and blankets. They were dusty and far from clean, and not too pleasant a texture, but the subzero temperatures must have kept the pests and vermin from destroying them.

Menphina also found a nearby heater – her gratitude quickly faded at it being nothing like the ones she knew. There was fuel inside, if not ceruleum then oil at the least, but no way to light it. There were no switches, nor did any manual firestarter kits seem to be placed nearby. She had to resist the urge to kick it in a rare fit of frustration. 

Plan B it was.

Convincing herself to remove her coat to hang it up for drying was possibly the hardest part of the night thus far. What few pieces of clothing she had managed to dress herself in while in a raw panic, ill-fitting things, at least remained mostly dry – and the same could be said for the supplies left behind here. Laid out across several bedrolls, curled up in as many blankets as she could find, Menphina slept for the first time as a free person.

It was fitful sleep, constantly waking in confusion and then quickly following fear. She half expected someone to show up to drag her back for her crimes – though she doubted she was worth the trouble of this weather.  She dreamed of confused jumbles of moments, of ungentle touch, of the metallic taste of blood, of the give of flesh under teeth, the paradoxical dissociative thrill of falling prey to raw instinct and cathartic violence, the warmth of blood on bare skin – and the most disorienting part to waking up from dreams of tearing one horrid man's throat out was that she awoke hungry.

Any search for food was far less successful. Menphina carefully searched the caverns, still wrapped in blankets, and found little of value. The few things that looked as though they were meant to be shelf stable seemed like they too had overstayed their welcome.

There was little to be done for that. Now, it was only resting while the storm raged and looking for anything helpful, trying to stay warm all the while. Eventually, Menphina curled back up on the bedrolls with several books that looked to be in decent condition still.

It was not as though she could read them, but there were at least illustrations to peruse. There were even maps, though she could not say where she was located on them. 

Flipping through one tome in particular, one that had somehow been damaged the least compared to all the others, Menphina found herself drawn to the illustrations and diagrams with sudden interest. For all their vagueness, they made a strange amount of sense to her. It stirred distant memories of forbidden pacts made for power, whispered things during childhood.

Menphina did not wish for power. She only wished for survival – was that different enough to avoid punishment or trickery? They would never be owned by anyone ever again, human or not, she promised that much. 

She laid back down to think it over. The winds of the storm were still audible this deep into the cave, she felt hungry and weak, and her body ached from walking as much as she'd likely done in the last decade combined. 

If it came down to it, Menphina would rather they die free. Oh, but hells take her, she wanted S'ria to live – to at least have a chance. 

And all present knew she'd not get far as things currently were. 

The cave was prepared for this, at least. The structure of the summoning circle was permanently etched into the ground, leaving Menphina to only worry about the sigils and symbols.

She violently shivered for the whole process, only wearing a single blanket so as to not smudge her work with loose drapery. Menphina had made some guesses, based on the book and the objects near the rite circle, and could only hope that she was correct. The nearby box held sticks of chalk and charcoal, and a few narrow knives. The symbols in the book were marked with white, black, and red inks.

Surely there was an obvious assumption to be made there? 

Hopefully there was no issue if the blood was not 100% her own, but she must confess to a certain amount of… strange satisfaction at the idea of inevitable traces of his blood on her skin helping her flee Garlemald.

Once nearly everything was inscribed, Menphina spared another moment to think through whether it was truly a good idea. 

Well… ‘twas not, but what other choices were left?

She could not read to know whether there was any incantation she need say, but it seemed unnecessary – the moment she wrote the final symbol and sat back on her heels, it happened.

There was a brief moment where a hollow void opened before Menphina, and then the room went utterly dark.

Unnaturally so. There was precious little light within the cave at all, but her eyes could adjust well to low light, even in the dead of night. But that was… complete blackness, no matter where her eyes flicked, she could see nothing.

She could feel the new presence in the room, though. The sensation was an odd one. ‘Twas as though the temperature of the room had both raised and dropped at the same moment – chills spread against her skin, somehow new despite the prior subzero temperatures. There, in that darkness, something circled the inside of the summoning sigil and settled in front of Menphina.

She wished she could see it – though perhaps it was not something that was meant to be seen. 

What do you wish for? I have heard many tales of your kind.

The voice was smooth in an inhuman way, as though formed without the imperfections of having a throat. 

Power? Wealth? Love? Admiration? Men have asked us for all that and more.

“I– I'm not…” Menphina stopped and shook her head. There were moments where protesting that she was not a man may be sensible, but right then did not feel like one of them. “I do not want all that.”

No, little one, you are… different than them. Young for your kind, yes?

Something nearly soft caught on the lilt of the voice.

What have you called me for? And what have you to give in return?

A bolt of fear struck Menphina. “Wait, my sight, have you –?”

Laughter rang out and echoed off the cave walls. Oh, no, I just prefer it this way. What would blinding you do to benefit me? Cruelty is not a useful bargaining chip to me – personally, I would not even be entertained.

The air in the room seemed to shudder.

But to discuss the price, you must tell me what you want.

Menphina paused, trying to find the words – words that hopefully would not lay a trap for her. “I want to be able to protect ourself, to make it out of this forsaken tundra without dying. I want to never again be weak enough to be kept as a plaything. This body belongs to no one else.”

The last words are said in a pointed tone, that the body is not meant for the demon to use either.

The darkness hummed around her. Oh, poor thing – something terrible has happened to you.

It sounded… more genuine than sarcastic.

’Tis power you want after all, yes, but… only just enough, no more than that. What you ask for is within my ability to give.

Menphina bit her lip, staring at where the ground would be. “What is your name? I would like to know who I am making this deal with. I shall tell you mine first, as a gesture of goodwill – Menphina.”

She had half-expected this entity to question her at some point, as to her gender and name, but it occurred to her that such a thing may not matter or even be understood by what was in the room with her.

An equal trade – very well. You may call me Luna.

Menphina nearly laughed, trying to stifle it. Was this a joke? Had this demon thought calling herself Menphina was a cute lie and responded with something fitting in turn? Perhaps it did not know the connotations of the goddess Menphina's domain, perhaps it was merely a coincidence – but that Luna.

Menphina knew this word – luna, lunae, she had heard nearly the same in the multiple Garlean dialects spoken around the manor. 

No, it would be presumptive to think a being from another realm would be familiar with their gods – it was surely just a strange twist of Fate.

Now, Menphina – what have you to offer?

“I – what is needed? I have little of value, I have no money –”

Your currency serves no use in the Thirteenth. I am expecting something a touch less… concrete, rather something more abstract, in a sense.

“Less… oh!” Why had she thought this demon could be plied in the same way those around her before could? The logic was all wrong. “I cannot offer you much knowledge or influence in my world. I do not… what appeals to you, Luna? My blood, my companionship, my lifespan – or something more abstract still?”

It(?) They(?) laughed, but it was a more hesitant thing this time.

Siphoning off your lifeforce is an option, enough not to kill you – but you offer… your companionship? What is that meant to be, what value given?

Menphina leaned towards the voice, desperation entering her tone. “You cannot stay in this world alone, can you not? If you've come when summoned, surely you want to be here? There are – there are lands somewhere far from here, where the sun is warm and the breeze is gentle. I remember them, I can take you there, if I survive.”

There was a silence, an odd sense of stillness in the room – and yet a sudden feeling of an intangible tether. Had that frantic offer been… somehow acceptable?

Luna began to speak again, somewhere, but Menphina no longer heard her in that moment – the hunger and cold caught up with her again all at once and she curled up, violently shivering.

Immediately, the void shadowing the room receded to its normal darkness.

Menphina – leave the circle, I can assist you. If you can make it to that heater over yonder…

Menphina stood and stumbled out of the circle, a strange feeling of dread prickling at her skin as she passed the threshold. She paused for a moment, suddenly entirely certain that leaving the runes meant leaving her safety behind – that Luna would be easily able to attack her.

But while she felt a presence settle behind her, her own shadow feeling oddly heavy, no more than that occurred.

Menphina's voice was a quiet mutter. “Luna, the heater doesn't work, I already tried.”

You tried alone. Now try again. Reach inside – just so.

There was a flicker of shadows moving from Menphina's arm to her fingertips and sudden blue sparks. She jerked her hand back as the oil erupted into flame, settling from blue to a more familiar red. 

Oh, the warmth. She leaned into it and finally relaxed as the small area began to heat up. She curled up in blankets again, as close to the heater as she dared, and found sleep calling to her once again. 

Menphina – may I leave your side and seek sustenance for your body?

Blind to any considerations of whether drastically lengthening Luna's leash may be ill-advised or easily abused, Menphina simply nodded with a tired hum. As she fell asleep, that weight to her shadow vanished. 

—-------

Luna gazed down at the miqo'te before them. Menphina was a frail thing, small even completely wrapped in blankets. Despite that, her soul shone full and warm. It was tantalizing, really. 

It wasn't as though Menphina had been careful, especially leaving the circle while the deal was not yet mutually set. Her insistence on ownership of her body was a good call, it left possession out, but the rest of the terms spoken… technically they could drain Menphina within an ilm of her life and that would be permissible. And now, they were not even purely bound. 

Luna considered their options as they left the cave. It would have been easy to abandon Menphina, having fulfilled some terms of the half-pact already – then simply roam the aether-rich world as they saw fit.

Instead, they found themself stalking down some sort of antlered and hooved creature. It would serve as an acceptable meal for themself, and Luna was fairly sure that bringing the carcass back to Menphina would feed her as well.

Probably. They weren't sure what mortals ate, but meat sounded right.

----------

Drusilla pinched the bridge of her nose, regarding the young miqo'te in front of her with an expression that was indiscernible aside from sheer incredulity.

“Do I understand correctly? You made an open-ended pact with a voidsent, with vague terms on both your parts, and then permitted your avatar to freely roam quite far from your side?”

Menphina cringed. “I take it that is far worse than I realized at that time?”

“It's a bleedin’ miracle you haven't left a trail of bodies behind you, is what it is – and that you are still alive and in control. What were you thinkin’, doing something so idiotic?”

Menphina went through many reactions, each for only a moment. Long-ingrained fear from being snapped at, shame, anger – there was a moment where she wanted to lash out and explain that Drusilla had no idea what S'ria had been through, how dare she judge –

That impulse passed as quickly as it came, and Menphina simply lifted her head to meet Drusilla's eyes. “I was not ready to give up on living yet. If nothing else, I wanted to die somewhere warm.” 

Drusilla crossed her arms and leaned against her desk. “Well, it's plenty warm here. You still tryin’ to live? If you are, you can't keep goin' on like this – but you don't have to, if you'll hear me out.”

[rhienfic]

fic bonuses, part 1 - amo

Three bonuses for you, my friendly blog readers. 

1) The Story of How amo (amas, amamus) Got Its Name

Titles are always tricky for me. Either there is one perfect thing that I adore (”Poetry vs. Robots;” “Carry On, Baz”) or else I can think of absolutely nothing (pretty much everything else) and I scrape around for song lyrics or something. (It often feels a little silly anyway, because don’t we all use our own shorthand when referring to most fics? “Oh yeah, that one selkie one” or “the one where they’re soulbonded” or “the AU where they work at the bowling alley” or whatever.) (These are examples from other fandoms, fyi.) 

In this case, “amo (amas, amamus)” is Latin for “I love (you love, we love).” This seemed like a good choice given the language based magic in the Snowverse, and the fact that (gasp! spoilers!) it’s a love story and all. 

2) The REAL Story of How AMO Got Its Name

The above is technically true, BUT. Some may have noticed that I pretty much always call this story AMO. That’s because for literal years (L. and I were headcanoning this for at least 18 months before I posted the initial chapters in 2015) I always referred to it as AMO or “the AMO fic.” It was ingrained. And there was no perfect title that was presenting itself. So when I had to choose a title, I was desperate for something that would, at the very least, initialize to AMO. That search was a bust, but luckily, Latin came to the rescue. 

Why “AMO,” you ask? Because we called it “the Angry Make Outs fic.” (Ironically, I think I’m terrible at writing make outs that stay angry. Probably should have called it the Angsty Make Outs fic, which would also have worked.) 

So yeah, the title was completely chosen to accommodate the name Angry Make Outs Fic without actually calling it Angry Make Outs Fic. I find this pretty hilarious. 

3) Updates? 

Chapter 5 (out of 10 or 11) is almost done and will be posted before the end of the summer. (I don’t want to over-promise, but that much I can definitely do.) Also, chapter five is at least 10k, so *shrug emoji*

[snow-system-wol]

Incredibly uncanon to normal Snowverse, BUT hope y'all want the rambles about the "vampire" S'ria AU for Snowverse. (Backstory, details. Gonna put the physiology/anatomy details in a reblog bc this post is already long.)

Let's go:

The very basic background on vampire AU is essentially answering a different question that we refuse to answer in normal snowverse.

Because like. A fact of snowverse (and the reason for the name, since vague flashes of it are S'ria's earliest memories when he's in Limsa) is that there is a Mystery period of time. In between.

Point A: a scrawny teen scrambling off a balcony (has not even fully managed to clean blood off) and then dealing with being in an unfamiliar country, temps below freezing, in a part of town absolutely no miqo'te would normally be.

Point B: Confused and mostly amnesiac teen shows up in Limsa Lominsa

And like, y'know. Did someone help him? Did he somehow get on a boat to Limsa? Sneak onto a magitek ship headed to Eorzea? He doesn't really understand how functioning in society works, he can't even read, like. And just traveling through the wilderness would be deadly, he's barely gotten enough layers on to be outside at all.

In "vampire" AU, that is actually answered. How does a 15-year-old in delicate health set out from the city and head across the least populated part of the ice flats without dying? Well, he doesn't, not really.

S'ria never really saw what attacked him, but he eventually woke up and.. the cold wasn't so bad anymore. He felt strong enough to just *keep walking* until he was very far away (and actually saw people that looked like him and none that looked like Garleans.)

(And if, along that long trek, he mostly tried to eat any prey he caught raw, he didn't need to justify that to himself -- not like he knew how to cook anyway.)

Jacke has his hands even more full than usual taking S'ria in, because it doesn't take long to realize that there's a bit more of a situation than S'ria had thought.

(Anyway the only thing I handwave is like, idk how the aging thing works. It's not true vampirism, just something thematically similar, so he is not still physically 15 a decade later when ARR starts. He looks like an adult as WoL (and dating G'raha remains Fine.))

It also also adds a very fun layer to the point in the plot where instead of asking "who are you?" people start to ask "what are you?" (As Thordan quite literally does before he dies.)

And y'know, of course S'ria knows he's... well, not one of a kind probably, but may as well be. It's the sort of thing that is best kept under wraps, for public perception and all that, but it's more the world's worst kept secret in some ways. It took S'ria and Jacke years of him being sickly and weak to realize that whatever less-than-fresh bottles they were getting from the butcher wasn't what he was meant to be consuming. They make do -- the Rogue's guild is a tight knit group after all.

There are plenty of those willing to help in the Scions, once it's explained how best to keep their WoL fighting fit and strong -- but not all those in the A Team are willing, and even those that are must not overdo it... So it is more of a "Scion-wide" secret, which is only a secret in name anymore.

At least they are quick to laugh off the rumors, that "the Warrior of Light is some sort of blood-drinking beast sounds like Garlean garbage propaganda, doesn't it?" but. Open secret, really.

(I'm sure, given how things are in ffxiv, Voidsent is the category of explanation of what was out there in Garlemald given the sheer variety of traits different ones have. I suppose my thoughts are that ones like him from the Source are extremely rare, as victims are usually killed rather than Changed, but -- perhaps there was a measure of sympathy for some poor young creature who was going to die otherwise.)

On the Scion A Team and their opinions on letting S'ria feed from them:

The twins: both are willing, though Alphinaud is a little more scared of the prospect. S'ria himself refuses though, trying to find a polite way to point out that they're really quite small/young and should keep all their blood where it's meant to be. The only time he's more lax about that with Alphinaud is during HW out of necessity, as the only Ishgardian that should ever know about this situation is Haurchefant.

Urianger: earlier game -- says he would be happy to help, but seems blatantly uncomfortable with the idea (if only on a sensory and skin contact level). This changes somewhat after his time on the First.

Y'shtola: it varies, mostly depending on her trust level towards him in different expansions. She's fine with it in ARR, but is more doubtful of his restraint in like, ShB. (Perhaps reasonably so. He seemed...hungrier and less in control of himself with those last few Lightwardens killed.)

Thancred: pretty consistently fine with it, though he acts way more casual about it than he actually feels. (When he's actually Thancred, of course. Lahabrea categorically refused, mostly just side-eyeing the whole situation for any developments. Nothing under the sun is new to Ascian, but also What the Hell.)

Lyse: S'ria and her are a little awkward around each other in early game and she refuses during ARR, but by the point of SB besties she's much more "alright bon appetit or whatever, get over here" about the whole thing.

G'raha: I'll be honest, I don't think the whole question was even asked before he said yes.

Estinien: there's still a bit of an old knee-jerk reaction of a dragonhunter, that there's something unnatural about that, and then immediately decides "whatever, I've got extra blood". (He is briefly concerned that he might have traces of dragons blood in his veins, but he's pretty sure that wouldn't do anything to S'ria.)

Honorable mentions:

The lalafells: oh noo, S'ria has developed an okay sense of how much is alright to take and is quite sure that'd go badly when applied to someone half his size. Nervously denied regardless of their own stance.

[snow-system-wol]

As a follow up: a snippet of the rest of that conversation with Drusilla. It doesn't go very well. (<1k)

(tw for suicide threat)

No one present would fully describe the conversation as going perfectly – though it could be far worse, really. Menphina was here and listening, and that was plenty of a start.

To be honest, Drusilla had not known what to expect of a child with a voidsent pact. Potentially fighting back, refusal to cooperate, a vicious streak – she had chosen carefully who was sent to invite her, on the chance that she attacked the messenger. She followed willingly, though, even if warily.

Aside from some defensiveness and anxiety, Menphina had a demeanor that was surprisingly pleasant. She clearly didn't care for the blunt judgement, but she'd come to speak willingly and was being open enough.

Until, that is, one exact moment.

Drusilla had arrived at her own conclusions, about whether assisting Menphina and giving her a Reaper's soul crystal would be a beneficial choice. Given the unusual situation, she still cared to hear the opinions of others before making the actual offer. She turned to speak in quiet tones, safe in the knowledge that their guest would not understand.

Should not understand.

Menphina went rigid in the middle of the room, ears flattened and tail puffed up. Her voice was something terrified and suspicious, nothing like her prior tone.

“That… that is… why are you speaking Garlean?”

Menphina's steps carried her backwards, towards the exit. There was a precision to her steps that suggested she was ready to move quickly the moment it was demanded of her.

Drusilla felt her blood freeze for a moment. Even if most were refugees like any other, full-blooded Garleans would not be treated well if attention was called to them. If their organization was pointed to as an Imperial faction…

“Stop her.”

Menphina lunged for the handle at the same moment that her other wrist was grabbed. Upon the attempt to wrangle her, she immediately shifted into something more feral – kicking, clawing, managing to lower her head to her attacker's arm and bite down –

She was dropped with a curse, but her path to the door was already blocked. She retreated to the nearest corner, pulling out a dagger and pointing it meaningfully outward.

If nothing else, she was no longer going to slip out onto the streets without a proper explanation. It had to be admitted that getting this physical with her did not make them look any better, but they had needed to intervene quickly.

Drusilla was calmer, knowing this – there was no longer any danger to her family. She had the chance to explain to Menphina now (and, in the absolute worst case scenario, the ability to silence her. Still, she truly hated the idea of it coming to that.)

“Calm down. There's five of us, you're not gettin’ far with that knife.”

Menphina trembled, shoving herself farther into her corner. Clearly, she agreed with that assessment of the situation, and she slowly lowered the dagger from that defensive posture.

Perhaps assuming the situation as resolved was far too hasty – a single step towards Menphina and she moved as though she'd been waiting for someone to get closer. Not to attack the threat, she'd given up on that plan.

Instead she pressed the dagger against her own throat. Despite her whole body shaking, her eyes were focused.

“No – no closer. I won't go back, I won't let you take me back there!” Her jaw clenched. “N-never again. I would sooner…”

Menphina didn't finish the sentence, but it did not need to be finished. Drusilla misliked the look of cold resolve in those eyes and took several steps back.

“At ease, girl. My fate if I return to Garlemald is no better – whatever you've escaped from, I imagine they're more pissed with me.”

Menphina laughed, sharp and slightly hysterical. “I murdered someone that I am fairly sure was socially important – and I know how they feel about my kind. What could you have done to warrant worse?”

Drusilla's expression did not change. “My grandfather tried to assassinate the Emperor. That kind of thing tends to make you a bit of a persona non grata in those parts.”

“...what?” The tension bled out of Menphina, the dagger moving some few ilms away from her neck. “That was not a lie… but, why?”

“Have a seat. Hold onto the knife, if you must, but it's gonna be a long story.”

Reaper Menphina AU, born from us leveling Reaper while in a glam for Menphina (~2.6k)

(Warning: Snowverse typical vague references to abuse, mentions of blood and violence)

(While this is a different canon than snowverse, any implications about S'ria's 13th shard made here are canon)

Slipping out of the city was the easy part.

The walls were a clear landmark, the troops marching through hid a small figure heading the opposite way. Menphina's heart pounded as she snuck past clanking armor and machinery, and then she was out. She wasn't afraid of being spotted – wrapped in a pale coat as she was, under the cover of night and with the storm slowly kicking up around her. 

No, it was the storm that scared her, and the horror of emptiness. Menphina could no longer see far in front of her, but it was all… so big. She'd never been in a room larger than the manor’s lounge in a decade. Stepping out onto the ice plains may as well have been an infinite void, with an impossible number of directions to travel.

The very first one she chose was away, opposite the gate she'd exited – angled off from the main road she'd seen the soldiers enter from. As she walked, the storm worsened, visibility dropped further, and her damp coat seemed to do less and less to cut the chill. She was trying to tuck her hands away as much as possible to protect them, but the blood left on her skin had frozen within minutes of getting outside. The snow she stumbled through was at knee height, snow regularly falling into her oversized stolen boots.

It was too cold, wind too sharp. The next time she had a clear view of her surroundings, she turned towards the sheer cliffs and mountains. If nothing else, maybe she could find somewhere to huddle that would block the wind. She did not want S'ria to die now that they could finally have a chance to live.

Menphina had hoped for a small niche to shove herself in. She had not thought to find a cave – and expected even less to find one that was so clearly furnished. (Though, luckily, long abandoned).

Being out of the storm already helped, but it also made her feel more keenly how cold and damp she still was. As she explored the cave, eyes quickly adjusting to the lack of light, she found sectioned off living quarters, stocked with bedrolls and blankets. They were dusty and far from clean, and not too pleasant a texture, but the subzero temperatures must have kept the pests and vermin from destroying them.

Menphina also found a nearby heater – her gratitude quickly faded at it being nothing like the ones she knew. There was fuel inside, if not ceruleum then oil at the least, but no way to light it. There were no switches, nor did any manual firestarter kits seem to be placed nearby. She had to resist the urge to kick it in a rare fit of frustration. 

Plan B it was.

Convincing herself to remove her coat to hang it up for drying was possibly the hardest part of the night thus far. What few pieces of clothing she had managed to dress herself in while in a raw panic, ill-fitting things, at least remained mostly dry – and the same could be said for the supplies left behind here. Laid out across several bedrolls, curled up in as many blankets as she could find, Menphina slept for the first time as a free person.

It was fitful sleep, constantly waking in confusion and then quickly following fear. She half expected someone to show up to drag her back for her crimes – though she doubted she was worth the trouble of this weather.  She dreamed of confused jumbles of moments, of ungentle touch, of the metallic taste of blood, of the give of flesh under teeth, the paradoxical dissociative thrill of falling prey to raw instinct and cathartic violence, the warmth of blood on bare skin – and the most disorienting part to waking up from dreams of tearing one horrid man's throat out was that she awoke hungry.

Any search for food was far less successful. Menphina carefully searched the caverns, still wrapped in blankets, and found little of value. The few things that looked as though they were meant to be shelf stable seemed like they too had overstayed their welcome.

There was little to be done for that. Now, it was only resting while the storm raged and looking for anything helpful, trying to stay warm all the while. Eventually, Menphina curled back up on the bedrolls with several books that looked to be in decent condition still.

It was not as though she could read them, but there were at least illustrations to peruse. There were even maps, though she could not say where she was located on them. 

Flipping through one tome in particular, one that had somehow been damaged the least compared to all the others, Menphina found herself drawn to the illustrations and diagrams with sudden interest. For all their vagueness, they made a strange amount of sense to her. It stirred distant memories of forbidden pacts made for power, whispered things during childhood.

Menphina did not wish for power. She only wished for survival – was that different enough to avoid punishment or trickery? They would never be owned by anyone ever again, human or not, she promised that much. 

She laid back down to think it over. The winds of the storm were still audible this deep into the cave, she felt hungry and weak, and her body ached from walking as much as she'd likely done in the last decade combined. 

If it came down to it, Menphina would rather they die free. Oh, but hells take her, she wanted S'ria to live – to at least have a chance. 

And all present knew she'd not get far as things currently were. 

The cave was prepared for this, at least. The structure of the summoning circle was permanently etched into the ground, leaving Menphina to only worry about the sigils and symbols.

She violently shivered for the whole process, only wearing a single blanket so as to not smudge her work with loose drapery. Menphina had made some guesses, based on the book and the objects near the rite circle, and could only hope that she was correct. The nearby box held sticks of chalk and charcoal, and a few narrow knives. The symbols in the book were marked with white, black, and red inks.

Surely there was an obvious assumption to be made there? 

Hopefully there was no issue if the blood was not 100% her own, but she must confess to a certain amount of… strange satisfaction at the idea of inevitable traces of his blood on her skin helping her flee Garlemald.

Once nearly everything was inscribed, Menphina spared another moment to think through whether it was truly a good idea. 

Well… ‘twas not, but what other choices were left?

She could not read to know whether there was any incantation she need say, but it seemed unnecessary – the moment she wrote the final symbol and sat back on her heels, it happened.

There was a brief moment where a hollow void opened before Menphina, and then the room went utterly dark.

Unnaturally so. There was precious little light within the cave at all, but her eyes could adjust well to low light, even in the dead of night. But that was… complete blackness, no matter where her eyes flicked, she could see nothing.

She could feel the new presence in the room, though. The sensation was an odd one. ‘Twas as though the temperature of the room had both raised and dropped at the same moment – chills spread against her skin, somehow new despite the prior subzero temperatures. There, in that darkness, something circled the inside of the summoning sigil and settled in front of Menphina.

She wished she could see it – though perhaps it was not something that was meant to be seen. 

What do you wish for? I have heard many tales of your kind.

The voice was smooth in an inhuman way, as though formed without the imperfections of having a throat. 

Power? Wealth? Love? Admiration? Men have asked us for all that and more.

“I– I'm not…” Menphina stopped and shook her head. There were moments where protesting that she was not a man may be sensible, but right then did not feel like one of them. “I do not want all that.”

No, little one, you are… different than them. Young for your kind, yes?

Something nearly soft caught on the lilt of the voice.

What have you called me for? And what have you to give in return?

A bolt of fear struck Menphina. “Wait, my sight, have you –?”

Laughter rang out and echoed off the cave walls. Oh, no, I just prefer it this way. What would blinding you do to benefit me? Cruelty is not a useful bargaining chip to me – personally, I would not even be entertained.

The air in the room seemed to shudder.

But to discuss the price, you must tell me what you want.

Menphina paused, trying to find the words – words that hopefully would not lay a trap for her. “I want to be able to protect ourself, to make it out of this forsaken tundra without dying. I want to never again be weak enough to be kept as a plaything. This body belongs to no one else.”

The last words are said in a pointed tone, that the body is not meant for the demon to use either.

The darkness hummed around her. Oh, poor thing – something terrible has happened to you.

It sounded… more genuine than sarcastic.

’Tis power you want after all, yes, but… only just enough, no more than that. What you ask for is within my ability to give.

Menphina bit her lip, staring at where the ground would be. “What is your name? I would like to know who I am making this deal with. I shall tell you mine first, as a gesture of goodwill – Menphina.”

She had half-expected this entity to question her at some point, as to her gender and name, but it occurred to her that such a thing may not matter or even be understood by what was in the room with her.

An equal trade – very well. You may call me Luna.

Menphina nearly laughed, trying to stifle it. Was this a joke? Had this demon thought calling herself Menphina was a cute lie and responded with something fitting in turn? Perhaps it did not know the connotations of the goddess Menphina's domain, perhaps it was merely a coincidence – but that Luna.

Menphina knew this word – luna, lunae, she had heard nearly the same in the multiple Garlean dialects spoken around the manor. 

No, it would be presumptive to think a being from another realm would be familiar with their gods – it was surely just a strange twist of Fate.

Now, Menphina – what have you to offer?

“I – what is needed? I have little of value, I have no money –”

Your currency serves no use in the Thirteenth. I am expecting something a touch less… concrete, rather something more abstract, in a sense.

“Less… oh!” Why had she thought this demon could be plied in the same way those around her before could? The logic was all wrong. “I cannot offer you much knowledge or influence in my world. I do not… what appeals to you, Luna? My blood, my companionship, my lifespan – or something more abstract still?”

It(?) They(?) laughed, but it was a more hesitant thing this time.

Siphoning off your lifeforce is an option, enough not to kill you – but you offer… your companionship? What is that meant to be, what value given?

Menphina leaned towards the voice, desperation entering her tone. “You cannot stay in this world alone, can you not? If you've come when summoned, surely you want to be here? There are – there are lands somewhere far from here, where the sun is warm and the breeze is gentle. I remember them, I can take you there, if I survive.”

There was a silence, an odd sense of stillness in the room – and yet a sudden feeling of an intangible tether. Had that frantic offer been… somehow acceptable?

Luna began to speak again, somewhere, but Menphina no longer heard her in that moment – the hunger and cold caught up with her again all at once and she curled up, violently shivering.

Immediately, the void shadowing the room receded to its normal darkness.

Menphina – leave the circle, I can assist you. If you can make it to that heater over yonder…

Menphina stood and stumbled out of the circle, a strange feeling of dread prickling at her skin as she passed the threshold. She paused for a moment, suddenly entirely certain that leaving the runes meant leaving her safety behind – that Luna would be easily able to attack her.

But while she felt a presence settle behind her, her own shadow feeling oddly heavy, no more than that occurred.

Menphina's voice was a quiet mutter. “Luna, the heater doesn't work, I already tried.”

You tried alone. Now try again. Reach inside – just so.

There was a flicker of shadows moving from Menphina's arm to her fingertips and sudden blue sparks. She jerked her hand back as the oil erupted into flame, settling from blue to a more familiar red. 

Oh, the warmth. She leaned into it and finally relaxed as the small area began to heat up. She curled up in blankets again, as close to the heater as she dared, and found sleep calling to her once again. 

Menphina – may I leave your side and seek sustenance for your body?

Blind to any considerations of whether drastically lengthening Luna's leash may be ill-advised or easily abused, Menphina simply nodded with a tired hum. As she fell asleep, that weight to her shadow vanished. 

—-------

Luna gazed down at the miqo'te before them. Menphina was a frail thing, small even completely wrapped in blankets. Despite that, her soul shone full and warm. It was tantalizing, really. 

It wasn't as though Menphina had been careful, especially leaving the circle while the deal was not yet mutually set. Her insistence on ownership of her body was a good call, it left possession out, but the rest of the terms spoken… technically they could drain Menphina within an ilm of her life and that would be permissible. And now, they were not even purely bound. 

Luna considered their options as they left the cave. It would have been easy to abandon Menphina, having fulfilled some terms of the half-pact already – then simply roam the aether-rich world as they saw fit.

Instead, they found themself stalking down some sort of antlered and hooved creature. It would serve as an acceptable meal for themself, and Luna was fairly sure that bringing the carcass back to Menphina would feed her as well.

Probably. They weren't sure what mortals ate, but meat sounded right.

----------

Drusilla pinched the bridge of her nose, regarding the young miqo'te in front of her with an expression that was indiscernible aside from sheer incredulity.

“Do I understand correctly? You made an open-ended pact with a voidsent, with vague terms on both your parts, and then permitted your avatar to freely roam quite far from your side?”

Menphina cringed. “I take it that is far worse than I realized at that time?”

“It's a bleedin’ miracle you haven't left a trail of bodies behind you, is what it is – and that you are still alive and in control. What were you thinkin’, doing something so idiotic?”

Menphina went through many reactions, each for only a moment. Long-ingrained fear from being snapped at, shame, anger – there was a moment where she wanted to lash out and explain that Drusilla had no idea what S'ria had been through, how dare she judge –

That impulse passed as quickly as it came, and Menphina simply lifted her head to meet Drusilla's eyes. “I was not ready to give up on living yet. If nothing else, I wanted to die somewhere warm.” 

Drusilla crossed her arms and leaned against her desk. “Well, it's plenty warm here. You still tryin’ to live? If you are, you can't keep goin' on like this – but you don't have to, if you'll hear me out.”