#the harbinger of the mourning

[thetrevisostabber]

well this one undid me a little and therefore i went insane about it all.

[vampteiga]

𓏵　　Day. II of @whisfer　event｡　swan lake op

　　 ◟ ͜ ͜ ◞　꣑୧　◟ ͜ ͜ ◞

Columbina ✚𓈒　　૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

　　𓎟𓎟⠀⠀f2u w credit

[jessamine-rose]

Dottore’s lover who is salty about the death of his Segments. They know it was a necessary sacrifice for the Electro Gnosis, but they were so fond of his younger clones!!

In an act of pettiness, their home is redecorated with a family altar that has photos of the fallen Segments. His lover will regularly light incense and leave offerings of Dottore’s favorite food for them, preferably in front of the original and Omega Build. If Dottore objects, they will just say it is part of their grieving process >:/

And if this lover is Pantalone, he should also expect a grand funeral held for the Segments.

[criticalrolo]

she is everything to me. also that is hal getting vivisected in her notes. she's going to be so fun @actionsurges

[h2o2-and-baking-soda]

signora's death rlly gets to me i'm sorry

like her lore is so, so cool. the crimson witch who, out of the madness of grief, took it upon herself to fix what killed her love, and then got essentially frozen by the tsaritsa as to not die.

and she was just in inazuma as a diplomat, she wasn't even there to fight. the traveller comes barging in, challenges her to a duel before the throne, and before she can even get a word in, it's already begun [and honestly, doomed from the start].

she was scared. you could literally see it.

in her very first introduction song, l'arrivo della signora, there was a small part near the end that was reminiscent of the mondstadt theme right before the leitmotif of her boss/death theme. i absolutely love this little addition and nod to her backstory!!

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

100 Vocabulary Words for Gothic Fiction | For Writers

Hello Writers! I've put together a list of 100 words to help you expand your vocabulary for writing gothic fiction in October. I categorized the words for easy reference. I did some research using thesauruses and dictionaries to compile this list for you. I hope you find it helpful! 👻🎃

Atmospheric Words

Tenebrous - dark and gloomy

Oppressive - overwhelming and unpleasantly powerful

Ominous - suggesting evil or harm is imminent

Eerie - strange and frightening

Uncanny - mysterious and unsettling

Nefarious - wicked or criminal

Malevolent - having evil intentions

Sinister - giving the impression of evil

Melancholy - deep sadness

Lugubrious - mournful or dismal

Sombre - dark and gloomy

Dreary - dull and depressing

Desolate - empty and lonely

Bleak - cold and depressing

Dank - unpleasantly damp and cold

Character Descriptions

Pallid - abnormally pale

Gaunt - thin and bony

Haggard - looking exhausted and unwell

Cadaverous - corpse-like

Wan - pale and sickly

Spectral - ghost-like

Enigmatic - mysterious and difficult to understand

Brooding - appearing darkly thoughtful

Tortured - suffering mentally or physically

Macabre - disturbing due to focus on death or injury

Architectural Features

Gothic - relating to medieval style architecture

Dilapidated - in a state of disrepair

Decrepit - worn out or ruined due to age

Crumbling - breaking into small fragments

Decaying - rotting or decomposing

Ramshackle - in a state of severe disrepair

Crypt - underground room or vault

Turret - small tower on a building

Parapet - low protective wall along the edge of a roof

Buttress - structure built against a wall for support

Supernatural Elements

Apparition - ghost or spirit

Phantasm - figment of the imagination

Specter - ghost or phantom

Wraith - ghost or spirit

Revenant - person who returns as a spirit after death

Ethereal - extremely delicate and light

Otherworldly - belonging to an imaginary or spiritual world

Paranormal - beyond normal explanation

Preternatural - beyond what is normal in nature

Occult - supernatural or magical

Emotions and States of Mind

Dread - great fear or apprehension

Foreboding - fearful apprehension

Trepidation - fear or anxiety about something that may happen

Anguish - severe mental or physical pain

Despair - complete loss of hope

Melancholia - deep and long-lasting sadness

Hysteria - exaggerated or uncontrollable emotion

Delirium - state of confusion and hallucination

Madness - state of severe mental illness

Obsession - persistent disturbing preoccupation with an idea or feeling

Gothic Settings

Moor - area of open, uncultivated upland

Wasteland - barren or desolate area

Labyrinth - complex maze-like structure

Catacomb - underground cemetery

Dungeon - dark underground prison

Mausoleum - building housing a tomb or tombs

Sepulcher - small room or monument where a dead person is laid

Necropolis - large cemetery, especially an ancient one

Citadel - fortress that commands a city

Monastery - building occupied by a community of monks

Weather and Natural Phenomena

Tempest - violent windy storm

Miasma - unpleasant or unhealthy smell or vapor

Fog - thick cloud of tiny water droplets

Mist - cloud of tiny water droplets in the air near ground level

Gloom - partial or total darkness

Twilight - soft glowing light from the sky when the sun is below the horizon

Umbra - the fully shaded inner region of a shadow

Penumbra - the partially shaded outer region of a shadow

Crepuscular - resembling twilight; dim

Tenebrous - dark, shadowy, or obscure

Literary Devices and Narrative Elements

Foreshadowing - warning or indication of a future event

Omen - event regarded as a portent of good or evil

Portent - sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen

Harbinger - person or thing that announces or signals the approach of another

Presage - sign or warning that something will happen

Doppelganger - look-alike or double of a living person

Grotesque - comically or repulsively ugly or distorted

Gothic double - character representing the duality of human nature

Unreliable narrator - narrator whose credibility is compromised

Frame narrative - story within a story

Liminal Spaces and Concepts

Threshold - strip of wood or stone forming the bottom of a doorway

Liminal - occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold

Betwixt - in between

Interstitial - of, forming, or occupying interstices (small spaces between things)

Twilight zone - undefined or intermediate area between two distinct states

Purgatory - place or state of temporary suffering or expiation

Netherworld - imaginary subterranean world of the dead

Abyss - deep or seemingly bottomless chasm

Void - completely empty space

Chthonic - concerning, belonging to, or inhabiting the underworld

Miscellaneous Gothic Terms

Sublime - of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire awe

Ineffable - too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words

Eldritch - weird and sinister or ghostly

Atavistic - relating to or characterized by reversion to something ancient or ancestral

Numinous - having a strong religious or spiritual quality; indicating the presence of a divinity

Happy writing, and Happy October! 📜🕯️- Rin T.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

*scuttles over to you* hey imagine how scared Childe must've been when you first found him as Foul Legacy.

the Harbinger stumbles home after a particularly difficult battle, his boots thumping along the darkened streets, the harbor city asleep under the black blanket of nighttime. labored breaths fall from his fanged maw, Foul Legacy's power barely hanging on so he can get them home, back to where it's safe, back to you. he pushes the door open and immediately doubles over, clutching the wall for support. it's fine, it's fine- he's home now. he'll patch himself up and slip into bed with your sleeping form, wrap his arms around you and drift off, nightmare-free. somehow you always chase away the memories of falling and falling and breaking on the way down.

it's past midnight. usually you're asleep by now, but the thumping noise of the door swinging shut, or perhaps the footsteps downstairs- something woke you. you sit up groggily in bed, following the shuffling and the quiet hisses of pain, not cautious in the slightest. Childe's taught you enough about combat for self-defense, a small sword in your hand as you make your way towards the door. but it clatters to the ground when your eyes land on an otherworldly beast, all violet and black and vivid crimson with sharp claws and two twin horns, hunched near the front door of your home.

you stare. Foul Legacy stares. then he scrambles back and presses himself against the way with a strangled screech.

you nearly jump back in fright, heart hammering in your chest as you grip your weapon. yet the creature merely shrinks away and grips its knees, letting out rasping sobs and whimpers. its blood drips onto the floor, dark and speckled with tiny lights, and your heart suddenly squeezes in a jolt of realization. gingerly you step forward, lowering your blade to the ground as you approach the weeping monster, placing a gentle hand into its thick, familiar coppery hair.

Foul Legacy's head snaps up towards you, his singular, faceted eye wide and filled with tears as he chokes out a faint, mournful whine.

I'm a monster. I'm terrifying. Please, please, please, don't be afraid.

you wrap your arms gently around the Abyssal half of your Harbinger, and Foul Legacy cries as he melts desperately into your embrace.

[nihilityuniverse]

𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗼𝘀𝘀.

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Story inspired by Acheron's Lore, Power, and Personality...

ENG is not my First language

I do not own Genshin Impact or any of the pictures used.

Do NOT Repost

Story also available on WattPad: Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

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Chapter 0 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐨

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Eight members of the Harbingers had gathered in the palace-like church. Inside, the air was so frigid that the nation's flags began to freeze, crackling under the intense cold. No candles lit the space; only the ethereal glow of the polar lights streaming through the stained-glass windows provided illumination.

A petite woman with long hair, her eyes concealed behind a delicate white lace mask, hums a familiar lullaby from her deceased friend as she leans against a casket. Her voice echoes softly in the frozen stillness.

The eight other Harbingers watched her from a distance, each wearing a similar coat of identical design. By order of Her Royal Highness Tsaritsa, all Harbingers were required to attend the funeral, even the elusive 0th Harbinger.

The 0th Harbinger, code name: Innamorati — The Lovers;

A figure shrouded in mystery and danger, Innamorati remained an enigma even to her fellow Harbingers.

Known only by whispers and rumors, she was a being crafted by the Cryo Archon herself, a weapon designed to challenge the Celestial Gods. Hidden away for years, her existence was the subject of much speculation.

Some Harbingers were indifferent, focusing solely on the success of their plans, while others were intensely curious. Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, claimed to know nothing about her, adding to her mystique.

Rumors abounded: some said Innamorati would annihilate anyone who crossed her path; others believed she had perished decades ago, her legend merely a shadow from the past.

What they all knew for certain was that Innamorati had a notorious reputation for forgetting critical missions assigned by Tsaritsa herself. This unreliability made her both feared and ridiculed within their ranks.

"We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade," an old dwarf with a long nose and mustache solemnly broke the deafening silence. "In honor of her sacrifice, all work shall halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing."

"Hehe, merely half a day...?" Pantalone laughed coldly, crossing his hands in front of his chest with a mocking smile. "People say the Northland Bank's true currencies are blood and tears... But mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable."

"Rosalyne died in a foreign land," Arlecchino stepped forward, her crimson red X-cross pupils glowing dangerously bright with annoyance. "But you heartless businessmen and dignitaries always find a convenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland..." She frowned. "You couldn't hope to understand, so why don't you keep your mouth shut?! We don't want to make the children cry."

"Hey, c'mon now, even I don't think this is the right time or place for a fight," Childe chipped in, lazily sitting on one of the wooden benches.

"Utterly risible!" Sandrone mocked, and the machine behind her emitted an audible angry sound.

"Though her methods tarnished her honor, Lohefalter's sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not hinder our progress," Capitano's deep voice resonated through the entire palace, catching everyone's attention.

He turned towards the Doctor, his face hidden behind a dark veil. "But Dottore... What of Scaramouche and the Gnosis from Inazuma?"

Dottore smiled, twirling a tube filled with blue liquid between his fingers. "Conventional wisdom holds that Divine Knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended. After conquering the Divine Gaze, he will make his next move."

The heavy, frozen church door creaked open, allowing the bitter winter air to sweep inside. Everyone turned their gaze towards it, even Columbina, who had paused her humming. 

A woman, clad in a coat of the same design as theirs, stepped into the church, holding a red paper umbrella. The door closed behind her with a resounding bang. The click of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the hall, a stark contrast to the silence that had filled the room.

Her face remained obscured by shadows, yet every person in the room knew instinctively that she was not someone to be trifled with. 

The sense of her power and presence was palpable, a mutual understanding among them all. To cross her would be to invite disaster.

This was Innamorati, the 0th Harbinger, a figure shrouded in mystery and danger, whose very presence commanded respect and fear.

As she advanced, the air seemed to grow even colder, the weight of her presence adding to the already frigid atmosphere. Each step she took resonated with authority, and the silence in the room deepened, a silent acknowledgment of her status among them.

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Finally, you found your way to the place where the funeral was to be held. You hadn't thought you would make it in time, given the ferocity of the snowstorm that had nearly obscured your path and made the journey treacherous.

Your heels clicked sharply with each step as you approached the group of people gathered at the center, where the casket lay. You set your red paper umbrella on one of the wooden benches, the action deliberate and unhurried. 

As the shadow over your face disappeared, the polar light from the stained-glass windows illuminated your features.

With the shadow gone, the collective breath of the eight Harbingers halted involuntarily.

Your beauty was striking: peach-colored, plump lips; long, dark eyelashes framing eyes that seemed to hold the very essence of winter. Your skin was pale and flawless, with a cold radiance that mirrored the icy surroundings. Your presence was both ethereal and commanding, a juxtaposition of delicate grace and chilling power.

You stopped a few steps before the group of Harbingers—your comrades—and looked up at them. 

"0th Harbinger, Innamorati... That is what they call me. You may call me whatever you wish," you introduced yourself, your voice ethereal and soft, yet so cold and lifeless it sent shivers down their spines. "This must be the first time we meet."

"You are quite late, Lord Innamorati," Pulcinella, the old dwarf, addressed you with a mix of respect and caution.

After all, The top-ranked Harbingers, from rank 1 to No. 3, possess powers that can rival the gods. So what about No. 0? Could she surpass the powers of the gods? Or even be greater?

You let out an annoyed sigh. "All the snow-covered streets look the same, and the blizzard did not make navigating to this gathering any easier."

Pantalone chuckled, turning towards you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"If I had known, I would have taken you with me in my carriage, Lady Innamorati. Alas, I am left to wonder why there were no escorts ready for you. I thought I had ordered the highest-ranked Skirmishers for your protection." His voice was dangerously smooth, laden with speculation, hinting at the rumors of you annihilating anyone who crossed your path.

Before you could respond, Childe interjected from the side. "Huh? The oh-so-feared Innamorati getting lost in a mere snowstorm? This is truly a sight to behold." His tone dripped with mockery. 

"Were you also getting lost on the way to your missions?" His voice carried an angry undertone, bitterness seeping through his words. 

He had often been the one to hurriedly take on your missions at the last minute, running from one nation to another like a lackey. The mission to obtain the Geo Archon's Gnosis had been assigned to you, not him, nor the now-deceased Signora. In the end, he had faced severe repercussions after the Northland Bank had to pay heavy reparations.

If gazes could kill, Childe would have been long dead under Pantalone's icy stare. Though his slight smile remained, his eyes closed behind his glasses, he radiated a murderous aura. He longed to hear your voice again and to capture your attention. Such a rare opportunity shouldn't be wasted.

"Insolent child! How dare you—!" Sandrone hissed at Childe, her anger palpable. She, too, feared inciting your wrath. If Childe weren't a fellow Harbinger, Sandrone would have killed him long ago for destroying her ruin guard factory.

"It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics." 

A deep, husky voice resonated through the church, cutting through the cold silence like a blade.

The man stepped forward from the shadows, his right side concealed by a dark mask. It was Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, and his presence commanded instant respect.

His voice, cold and demanding, echoed with authority as he advanced towards the casket.

"Right now, you have no captive audience," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Harbingers and guests, silently commanding them to gather and pay heed.

You stood on the opposite side of Pierro, your own presence a stark contrast to his imposing figure.

"Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and let this nation endure for all time," Pierro intoned, his voice carrying the weight of solemn duty.

The assembly lowered their heads in reverence, eyes closing as he delivered the farewell speech. Your hand drifted absently towards your Divine Key, a subconscious gesture.

"In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa," Pierro continued, his voice imbued with a steely resolve, "we will seize authority from the gods."

After several minutes of mournful meditation, Pierro broke the silence and left the building, his movements purposeful and commanding.

The others followed in silent procession, a testament to their respect and shared grief. You took your red paper umbrella, closing your eyes briefly before stepping into the freezing, snow-covered landscape.

"Absolute peace."

As you all departed, the church behind you began to freeze over, layers of crystal ice encasing it under the unyielding winter sky, which shimmered with the ethereal glow of the aurora.

"Such is the gift from the Tsaritsa, such is Her Majesty's benevolence," Pierro declared, his voice carrying a chilling reverence as he halted and gazed up at the celestial lights.

"Now you rest in this coffin, encased in layer upon layer of ice. But, Rosalyne, I promise you..."

"Your final resting place will be the entirety of the Old World," Pierro's voice echoed through the night sky, his farewell imbued with a cold resolve that matched the frozen land around you.

As you watched the polar light dancing across the vast darkness of the sky, a thought surfaced in your mind. You had never known this person, but you had made a promise to someone...

You halted in your steps and glanced back at the frozen church.

Some tasks have to be done, even if they seem pointless.

Amidst the snow, you caught a glimpse of shadowy hands emerging from the icy landscape, reaching out towards the sky one by one, as if seeking transcendence. As you blinked, everything returned to normal.

"Another Memory..."

"Lady Innamorati, is something the matter?" Pierro's voice broke through your reverie as he noticed you staring back at the frozen church.

"...meaningless," you whispered to yourself, yet the faint wind carried your words to Pierro. 

"Pardon?" Pierro asked again, this time capturing the attention of some of the other Harbingers, especially Dottore. The Doctor, ever curious, considered whether you might make an intriguing subject for his experiments.

"It's nothing. Continue without me. I wish to be alone," you ordered, your voice light as silk yet cold as ice. Pierro nodded, casting one last glance at you before leaving. 

Dottore lingered a moment longer, watching you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. As he did, the falling snow seemed to halt and move backward, defying the natural order.

"Existence is fleeting as the dawn's dew," your voice echoed in a dimension separate from the real world, where time had ceased.

Dottore's breath caught as he watched you, disbelief etched across his features. His analytical mind struggled to comprehend the anomaly unfolding before him.

"Yet, I guide the wandering souls on the still waters of oblivion..."

The dimension around you cracked like glass, shattering as you began to walk towards the church.

"...and weep for the departed."

A powerful gust of wind struck Dottore, and in that moment, he perceived everything yet nothing. The world seemed meaningless and empty. He felt his body ascending, his soul slipping away...

"Don't look back..." Your ethereal voice called to him, a beacon of light in the encroaching darkness.

He felt a pull from behind, "Move forward," you whispered. In the next instant, he stood where Pierro had asked if you were alright moments before.

Dottore's breath hitched, his cold heart pounding faster than ever. This was neither a dream nor an illusion. He knew this with certainty. What had just happened? The question echoed in his mind, a mystery as deep as the winter night itself.

One thing was certain: he had unmistakably felt the presence of the Almighty One—the Divine Creator.

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Reblog if you like this story

[peachdues]

THE DIVINING ROD — PROLOGUE

Obanai’s Tell Me to Stop

A/N: the prologue to Obanai’s installment of Tell Me to Stop, first teased here.

CW: canon setting AU • Reader is the Vine Pillar • blood • angst • scars • mentions of past torture • panic • this fic will be HELLA NSFW so MDNI

From the first day he drew his sword, Obanai Iguro knew life within the Demon Slayer Corps meant accepting two, twin truths.

The first was this: a career as a swordsman of the Corps means one’s life expectancy is cut drastically short. Few make it to adulthood; even fewer to retirement.

The second truth is that your time within the Corps is marked by one or two events: either you live to see another day, or you do not. There is no in between; it is either life or death, and more often than not, the Slayers themselves do not have the luxury of choosing between the two. That choice is finite and there is no gray. Members of the Demon Slayer Corps do not go missing; either they are torn apart and devoured by the very monsters they fight, or they live to see the next sunrise, only to await nightfall once more and thrust their lives back into the fickle, shifty hands of fate.

No slayer is spared that perilous dance, no matter their rank. Mizunotos and Hashira alike all know that their tether to the world they’re trying to save is little more than a fraying thread which grows more tenuous by the day, with every battle won at the expense of the lives lost.

The crows; it is the crows, the harbingers of both victory and death, who keep them apprised of their numbers. Slayers do not go missing; they are either dead or they are not. If there is nothing left of a Slayer to bury, their crow will say as much, and they will still get a headstone in the Master’s ever-growing graveyard. The crows always return, even when their assigned masters do not. It is the expectation; a given.

There is no protocol in the event neither Slayer nor crow returns, and it is that absence which blows a gaping, jagged hole right through Obanai’s understanding of his nature not just as a Hashira, but his very existence as a swordsman.

Because the Vine Pillar has vanished and there is no trace of either her or her bird to be found. There is no frantic, bleating announcement that she’s fallen at the hands of some formidable foe, no mournful sobs of the Kakushi as they solemnly carry a box bearing whatever of her remained to be buried with her brothers and sisters in death.

There was only silence; thick, oppressive, loud silence that is punctuated by the conspicuous gap in the lineup of Pillars gathered for an emergency meeting at Headquarters.

The air between the Sound and Insect Pillars is still; a tear in the fabric of reality, pulled back to reveal that something is wrong, something is out of place.

Something is missing.

Obanai cannot stop staring at it; that space between Kocho and Uzui, the utter absence of matter that should form that familiar face, that signature haori, everything that makes up her and her warmth and her comfort.

Everything he cherishes.

“Then she is dead,” Uzui declares once the Master’s children finish explaining their summoning.

“We don’t know for certain,” a soft voice, feminine and evocative of that which is distinctly pink, rises above their heads at the opposite end of their line. “Missions often take weeks, and she may simply be unable to answer —,”

“No one has seen or heard from her in weeks, nor has there been any sight of her crow.” The Sound Pillar challenges, though not unkindly. He is familiar with the friendship between the Vine and Love Pillars, and he does his best to deliver the blow as painlessly as he can. “Even Y/L/N would not ignore an emergency summons from headquarters, no matter how deep in her mission she might have been.”

Obanai is still staring at the void between his comrades where she should be, but Uzui’s words make his fists clench, the skin of his knuckles white. Beside him, the Wind Pillar shifts, sensing his growing agitation.

His panic.

Though he is inclined to voice his agreement with the pinkette at the end of their formation, Serpent Pillar does not speak. He cannot; not while he is busy retracing the last weeks in his mind, mentally calculating how much time would have passed between that night and the mission she did not return from, and whether there was a chance it was different from the one that haunted his every waking moment.

“Where was she assigned?” Rengoku’s voice was strong and commanding as ever, though if he listened hard enough, Obanai could discern the faintest tremble as the Flame Pillar, too, worried after his absent friend.

“A fishing village in the east.” One of the Master’s twins answers, and it feels like an accusation only he can hear, as Obanai feels the very ground beneath his feet break apart and open wide.

How he wishes the oblivion below the earth would swallow him up.

“She’s dead.” Uzui repeats, his head bowing solemnly.

“She’s not,” both the Love and Flame Pillars insist in unison.

Wide, anxious green eyes peer over the heads of their comrades at him, and Obanai can feel how they burn into his head, beseeching him to say something, anything, but he does not; cannot.

The Master’s pristine garden falls away, as does the rising bickering of the other pillars as they debate the merits of a search and rescue operation; whether they have the numbers or time to spare it any consideration. Whatever they decide, it is without the Serpent Pillar’s vote, because he cannot hear them over the roaring in his ears; the new truth he is forced to bear.

That truism is this: the Vine Pillar is missing.

And it is entirely his fault.

[fatuismooches]

Fragile reader reincarnation has been rotting my brain...

Dottore would have failed to cure you fast enough, resulting in your untimely death. But he kept trying. He pursued everything he could, from knowledge and procedures that shouldn't be tampered with to baseless myths and rumors that obviously held no fact, yet he investigated them thoroughly anyway because he was uncharacteristically desperate. Needing just one thing to spark some progress in his research. However, despite him and his segments searching exhaustively, nothing came up. Eventually, he had to let your body rest.

Decades upon decades would go by, and he would become far more closed off. His segments would attend all the meetings and deal with others. The mortal Harbingers had passed on already, replaced by new ones. There was still Columbina, who had mourned you a great deal as well, but he didn't speak to her much. The world had become rather boring now without you and your unpredictability. Yes, his experiments did still spark excitement whenever they turned out to be successful, but the feeling that you were missing often lingered. The person he waited over four hundred years for, and now he would wait an eternity to never be reunited with you. However, that would change one day.

It would be one of the rare days one of the segments was out in public - Omega had just returned from a meeting with the new banker for the Fatui. In the past, Prime used to attend such things sometimes, but now the responsibility was primarily his. The segment was about to return to the lab when something very familiar caught his attention.

Your laugh.

Now, the segment has replayed your voice in his head many times since your death, burned into his core, but it never felt as real as just now. It has his interest piqued. And that's when he sees you. The same eyes and smile he could recognize anywhere. Upon getting closer, your voice, quirks, and habits are unnaturally similar to what he remembers from so many years ago. Already, many thoughts and possibilities are running through Omega's head, but what seals the deal is when the other person refers to you as [Name]. Now, he simply must approach you.

It isn't hard for his skilled tongue to get information out of you, and although you do think he's a bit too inquisitive for a stranger (new friend), he's just too charming to resist, for some odd reason. (You don't know much about the Harbingers and can't recognize him.) And the similarities are too stark to ignore, from your former attendance in the Akademiya to your hobbies and research interests. Of course, there's still more he would need to confirm, but the most likely possibility is that this you... is a reincarnation.

Of course, revealing this news to the other segments, naturally creates an uproar, all of them wanting to see you in person to confirm this for themselves. But unfortunately, that isn't very easy because you'd definitely get scared seeing all these unnaturally similar blue-haired men randomly coming up to you. So only the older segments that look close to Omega come out to visit you. You can't tell the difference much, only besides you think he has slightly longer hair, and his voice isn't as deep, but you barely know him, so maybe you're just mistaken? Either way, all of them are courteous to you, although a bit- no, very strange. Still, you find it familiar. From where you don't know. (They have taken samples of your hair strands and skin but you don't know that.)

And then there are times when the 'same' man pops up but with a different mask. You just assumed that he decided to swap masks, but he acts a bit different from usual. You don't know how to describe it, but he seems the tiniest bit forlorn. Stares at you so hard you get a bit uncomfortable, but he doesn't do it maliciously. But when certain topics come around he seems to test the waters on your opinions before opening up some more. It seems he can't trust you very much yet. But perhaps time could change that.

Zandy would be the first to trust you wholeheartedly of course - the original you's death undoubtedly scarred his young heart, having been the first person to ever show the child unconditional love. When he sees that you're back, with the same smile and eagerness to entertain his childish desires, he can't help but indulge in your love once again.

A part of Dottore just wants to make you live in the lab with him, but it's obvious that would make you scared, and the last thing he wants to do is scare the someone who is supposed to be his beloved. However, a part of me wonders if Dottore would be able to truly love the reincarnated reader the same as he loved the original one. Because this isn't the person he spent centuries with, the one he's had since his young days. Whatever part of his heart that has the ability to love, loves the first you wholly, far too attached. Does have room for reincarnated you? Can he make room? That is something you two will have to work out.

At the very least, if you still happen to be sick in this life, he swears to cure you this time.

[chucapybara]

—monsters.

a short arlecchino x harbinger fem!reader drabble.

—in which a wounded innamorati is tended to be blackened hands and mournful words.

notes: "innamorati" is one of the cast in the commedia dell'arte, with the theme of the lovers, if i remember correctly. they are usually a pair, as well. wrote this a few days ago; this came to me with my own version of a harbinger!oc in mind (hence it may come off as self-shippy), but i think it's vague enough to substitute a reader as innamorati. :3c inna also has cryo-inclined abilities (hence titled "Permafrost") and covers themselves in armour!

"You still bleed like a man does."

"And how does... ngfh... a man bleed?"

"Red."

Were it not for the slickened crimson coating her cursed palms, Arlecchino may as well have thought that the Innamorati was no more than an inanimate suit of obsidian. Innamorati's breaths come heavy, misting like frost at the base of her visor.

There is a kinship, in the blood and in the ghastly taint that sours them both. Like beckons like, as the familiar recognises the familiar from a sea of crowds.

For a moment, Arlecchino's dead-eyed gaze flickers over the shadows in Innamorati's helmet, as if searching for a glimpse of the soul that stares beneath. She almost catches the abyssal-flecked hazel, the dredges of human, or what once was human.

"Innamorati."

"Mmh."

"The children will mourn your passing," the Fourth mutters. It's difficult to dress the wound of an acquaintance who refuses to shed their armour, but she improvises. The bleeding must stop eventually.

"Will they, now?"

Arlecchino bows her head, the slightest nudge of a nod. It was not often that Innamorati passed by the House, but every instance always brought with it the intrigue from the children, and the rumour of the risen "abyssal knight". For all the Lovers' aloof frigidity, a wonder it had become when said abyssal knight would bring souvenirs and trinkets for the children of the Hearth after and between deployments, when said abyssal knight would converse with the fosters in a voice soft as snow, gentle as a whisper upon a dandelion breeze.

Quickly, Innamorati had unknowingly earned a place for herself among the denizens of that organisation, and had come under the scrutiny of its unfeeling Father. Hence had Arlecchino found a wounded Innamorati, returned from a mission, stalking past whilst nursing an injury; hence had Arlecchino beckoned her fellow Harbinger into her office, where a box of medical supplies sits in her cabinet for unforeseen events much like this.

"And of you?" The words come slow from 'neath Inna's helm, a gravelled drag to them, strained. "Will you mourn my passing, Knave?"

There is a long silence. With calculating coldness, the baleful moon falls quiet, perhaps contemplative, perhaps resentful of the question.

How many has she reaped? How many throats slashed, heads ground into a marrowy pulp? And of the many, of what number were those she had no strength to aid, left to keep the reminder of their lives in their final breaths?

Even now, from the depths of that icy past blazed upon a crimson pyre, Innamorati ferried recollections that the Knave had not pondered in a long time: her first blood, on that fated arena, within the cage of a woman madder than she—the blood of a fallen dreamer, an heir to tragedy.

When Arlecchino does not answer, Innamorati answers for her.

"Well," the Permafrost mutters in a rasp, "I have yet to forfeit my life, stubborn as I am. You do not grieve for the living."

"And yet we grieve, still, for what eludes us in the present."

Their gazes meet—or Arlecchino thinks they do. She feels a knowing shiver at the tilt of Innamorati's head, in her direction, where the fiery moon meets a frigid sun.

We grieve for what we have lost.

And if naught else, yours is the grave whose flowers I shall never allow to wilt.

[the-bi-library]

Here are bisexual books out in April!

Books listed:

In Universes by Emet North Dear Bi Men: A Black Man's Perspective on Power, Consent, Breaking Down Binaries, and Combating Erasure by J.R. Yussuf Truly, Madly, Deeply by Alexandria Bellefleur Of Blood and Aether (Harbingers, #1) by Harper Hawthorne Saint-Seducing Gold (The Forge & Fracture Saga #2) by Brittany N. Williams Darker by Four (Darker by Four, #1) by June C.L. Tan Rough Trade by Katrina Carrasco The Last Love Song by Kalie Holford Moon Dust in My Hairnet by J.R. Creaden What Is Love? by Jen Comfort Finally Fitz by Marisa Kanter The Boyfriend Fix by Lee Pini Playing for Keeps by Jennifer Dugan She Came for Blood (Dreamers & Demons: Sapphic Monsters Book 3) by Darva Green Call Forth a Fox by Markelle Grabo I'm The Same by James Ungurait Something Kindred by Ciera Burch Calling of Light (Shamanborn, #3) by Lori M. Lee Off With Their Heads by Zoe Hana Mikuta Even If We're Broken by A.M. Weald Harley Quinn: Redemption (DC Icons Series Book 3) by Rachael Allen Rainbow Overalls by Maggie Fortuna Smile and Be a Villain by Yves Donlon Lights, Camera, Passion by Isabel Lucero Hearts Still Beating by Brooke Archer Aubrey McFadden Is Never Getting Married by Georgia Beers Court of Wanderers (Silver Under Nightfall, #2) by Rin Chupeco Good Mourning, Darling (Darling Disposition, #1) by Azalea Crowley All the Hype (Oak Haven Romance) by S. Bolanos The Devil to Pay by Katie Daysh Every Time You Hear That Song by Jenna Voris

You can find these books in this list on goodreads

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Y/N's Song

This is part 2 of the story Tears To Shead. Sally's Song by Amy Lee TW: Violence, unrequited love, heartbreak, self injury (reader uses her banshee powers against herself), the executions

Years have flown by since you unleashed chaos upon Hell with your Banshee powers, manipulated by Alastor's manipulation. Deep down, you always knew he would disappear the moment he had the chance. While you led infernal wars, he stirred up trouble on Earth. But fate has a twisted sense of humor—Alastor eventually fell too, joining you in the depths of Hell.

Alastor, as if born of this realm, wielded powers that matched the most formidable beings in Hell. Meanwhile, you rose in prominence, becoming the trusted right hand of Lilith and Lucifer. You were their go-to strategist, granted the privilege to navigate the rings of Hell alongside them. Your wardrobe transformed from stark silver and blue to a vibrant tapestry of colors, a whimsical patchwork dress that reflected your new status.

When you heard about Alastor’s demise, you held onto the hope that you’d never see him again. The thought of facing him and revisiting old heartaches was unbearable. Yet, cruelly, fate had other plans. Alastor reentered your life, and a tentative friendship began to blossom amid the chaos of Hell. You, now a key advisor, and he, a resurrected overlord, bonded as you both tried to prove your worth to the community.

Years of solitude turned into years filled with laughter and camaraderie. Alastor found a new place in your heart, a place you were too scared to acknowledge for fear of rejection. You had watched him turn away so many suitors, and the thought of being another disappointment paralyzed you.

As Alastor climbed the ranks, a madness began to envelop him—a stark reminder of the man you first met. You could sense the darkness creeping in, the spark of insanity igniting his ambition. While you earned respect as a natural leader, especially as Lilith grew more despondent, Alastor’s descent into chaos deepened.

In a manic frenzy, he confided in you his grand designs to overthrow Lucifer and Lilith. He envisioned himself as the ruler of Hell, and his laughter echoed with a madness that sent chills down your spine. You recognized that look all too well—the harbinger of an overlord's inevitable fall.

You begged him to reconsider, to take a step back. But your words fell on deaf ears; he saw your concern as a hindrance. As tensions escalated toward a catastrophic clash, you knew that with his shadows and your Banshee wail, Hell would tremble under the weight of your conflict.

New sorrow washed over you. It became painfully clear that you and Alastor were not meant to be. No matter how hard you tried to carve out a future together, his relentless thirst for power overshadowed any chance for love or companionship.

Yet, your feelings for him lingered—a bittersweet ache as you watched him chase his destructive ambitions. You remained a quiet observer, mourning the man he once was while he sought supremacy over Lucifer. Each step he took toward ambition felt like a dagger to your heart, a silent lament echoing in your soul.

As you followed his trail of devastation, you sang a haunting melody that intertwined with your grief: “I sense there’s something in the wind that feels like tragedy’s at hand, and though I’d like to stand by him, I can’t shake this feeling that I have.” Your skin, once vibrant with color, dulled to an ashen gray, reflecting the weight of your sorrow.

When Alastor launched his assault on Lucifer’s castle, you felt a painful tug in your chest. With a single strike, Lucifer thwarted him, sending Alastor reeling back into the shadows. You reached out in vain, your heart breaking as he slipped away, determined to seize power once more. “The worst is just around the bend, and does he notice my feelings for him? And will he see how much he means to me?” The words echoed in your mind as despair consumed you.

In a desperate attempt to reach Alastor, you invited him back into your home, hoping that a touch of care might spark some reason in him. You prepared a feast, doting on him as you once had, trying to recall the warmth of your past camaraderie. “Try as I may, it doesn’t last. Will we ever end up together?” you wondered aloud, offering him a boon: if he would only cease his relentless quest for power, you would provide him with this nurturing life every day.

But instead of gratitude, you faced his fury—not at your affection, but at your opposition to his ambitions fueled him. He scoffed at your bold request and, with a bitter laugh, stormed out, leaving you feeling empty. As he departed, you sensed your essence fading, your song slipping further into despair.

The arrival of the executioners filled you with a chilling dread. Like Lucifer’s family, you found a semblance of safety within your walls, but your heart ached with worry for Alastor. Once the chaos settled, his anguished cries echoed in the distance—yet again thwarted by Lucifer, even amid the brutal executions. “No, I think not, it’s never to become…” you murmured, reaching out for him in vain.

When Alastor finally turned to you, the pain etched on his face cut deep, and he simply looked away. Each rejection felt like a dagger to your soul. As your powers surged within you, the weight of your sorrow transformed you. In that moment, you felt like a mere doll, your essence stripped away, a haunting reflection of love turned to anguish.

“For I am not the one…” you whispered, the truth settling heavily in your heart. You realized you would never be what Alastor truly needed. As the years rolled on, this reality became clearer: no matter how fiercely you cared, he would always seek something beyond your grasp. Seven years passed, and once again, he was lost to the very ambitions that had consumed him.

[jessamine-rose]

Hi. I don't know if you answered this but what happened to Kitty's family? and did they find out what Pantalone did?

Read my Yandere! Pantalone fics first <3

Ohh thank you for asking this!! It was fun to revisit the story of Yandere! Pantalone x Kitty! Darling, and I hope you enjoy the additional lore on Kitty’s family (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))

Note:: yandere, fic spoilers under the cut

The Lai family is never able to recover their wealth nor their social status.

Her parents and sister are the most affected. To keep afloat, they had to sell their estate and switch to a humbler lifestyle. Alas, it will take years for them to pay off their debt to the Northland Bank, especially since Pantalone charges interest.

On the other hand, Kitty’s brother is actually living his best life in Sumeru. Similar to Kitty, Gege grew up stifled by their family and high society; the difference is that he wanted to distance himself from the two. During his time at the Akademiya, he became more independent and made friends from different backgrounds. Secretly, he did not look forward to returning to Liyue.

Thanks to Pantalone’s scheme, Gege was freed from his own cage. After attending their wedding, he returns to Sumeru and builds a new life for himself. It’s just that he prefers to stay silent about his family, lest he reveal his brother-in-law’s connections to the Fatui.

⬩◈⬩

At one point, Kitty’s family does learn about her surrendered Vision.

One day, Pantalone allows Kitty to accompany him to Liyue. During the mission, they pay a short visit to her parents and Jiejie, who are too nervous to ask about her missing Vision. How can they, when Pantalone is asking for an update on their repayments?

Gege is the only one concerned about Kitty. Months after the wedding, he noticed that she’d stopped responding to his letters. So he sends a letter addressed to her and Pantalone, asking if he could visit them in Snezhnaya. On the same day he receives their response, however, he has to postpone the trip due to back-to-back commissions.

⬩◈⬩

Over a year later, Gege finally has the time to visit his little sister and brother-in-law. Pantalone assigns a Fatuus to fetch Gege and escort him to their manor in Snezhnaya. As soon as Gege meets Kitty, he notices her dim gaze and missing Vision. But before he can comment on it, Pantalone wraps his arm around Kitty’s waist and warmly welcomes him.

After a casual conversation, Pantalone tells Kitty to leave the living room so he can talk to Gege in private. That is when he, in a mournful tone, tells Gege about the “accident” that led to his darling’s Vision loss. He is very convincing, but Gege remains doubtful.

Later that day, Gege asks Kitty to tell him the truth, to let him know if she is truly all right. But Kitty only responds with a small smile and tells him that she is fine. That she is loved. That she has never felt happier by her husband’s side.

What would her brother know, anyway, as the one who was absent from her life for nine years? And even if her husband is lying, does he dare to challenge a Fatui Harbinger?

In the end, he chooses to believe in Pantalone’s story. If the “accident” really happened, then it makes sense that Kitty would willingly give up her Vision. And it is true that she seems happier as the Regrator’s wife.

If there is one thing that Gege recognizes in this shell of his little sister, it is the genuineness in her smiles directed at her husband.

⬩◈⬩

A week later, Gege returns to Sumeru.

By then, Pantalone has won him over with his charming facade. During their final goodbyes, Gege thanks him for his hospitality and for being there for Kitty.

Once he is back in Sumeru, he resumes his work. Now that he knows his little sister is in good hands, there is less to worry about.

It’s a shame, though, that he can’t visit them as often as he’d like. According to Pantalone, the couple will be “preoccupied with numerous missions and events” in the near future.

[daylite-writes]

please please please please pleaseeeeeeeeeeee continue the sagau, its so good!!!!!!!!

Hnggg okay since y’all asked nicely, here’s the next part (pt 1 here) that I originally had partially written. This is legit the rest of it, so I have no more prepped after this. It’s Dottore Centric since I was originally supposed to cycle through most of the harbingers, and is such mild yandere I hesitated as even tagging it as such.

Doctor’s Orders (on your knees before me) - SAGAU ft. Dottore (pt 2)

After being brought back to the Tsaritsa’s Zapolyarny Palace, a familiar doctor is put in charge of your health. Happily, he takes on the role, and you learn a bit why the world loves you, and why the people hate you.

cws: allusions to temporary death, mild yandere, fading memories of a past life.

700 words

~~~

As it turns out, not letting the creator, well, be the creator leads to adverse side effects. Abnormal ley line flows, early deaths, and an unprecedented amount of power given to Celestia. Something Dottore explained to you in great—very confusing—lengths as he treated your hypothermia.

Huh.

You did not remember any of that from when you played the game.

Was the real world even real, or was this one the falsehood? You had a family and a life, for better or for worse.

Your skull began to ache whenever you thought of your home… logically you had a family, a world you hailed from, separated from your own. It faded from you, slowly, as if it was never even there to begin with. It was difficult to mourn it.

Dottore was speaking, you refocused your attention on him, as he strode over holding a hand out for your forearm, a syringe prepared for you. You gave it up easily.

“Creation, as we’ve found, is a hard task. After making a world, said creator often must rest for millennia. This gave Celestia time to attach to our world—to you—like a parasite. You should have awoken long ago. The archons were all expecting you to descend a few hundred years back. When you didn’t, the Tsaritsa’s war against Celestia began.”

“Ah.” Okay… sure. You’d accept that as fact for now. “What happens now that I’ve descended? Is this war against Celestia over then?”

“Hm? Oh, of course not. The Tsaritsa will personally drag Celestia down from their stolen thrones and gut them in your name, before returning their power to you.”

A violent, gleeful edge tinted his tone, then. Under his mask, a sharp smile spread as the thought crossed his mind. You paid it no attention, it was just the way he was.

“How are you so sure I’m the Creator? Others thought me to be an imposter of sorts.”

“How wouldn’t we?” Dottore laughed. “Your blood is gold, your deaths left the world weeping, the stars in your eyes shift to the constellation of whatever person you look at, and you know so much about each of us. Not to mention, we were the ones who awoke you.”

Your eyes immediately tore away from the syringe he was drawing blood with, shooting to him. “What?”

Dottore smiled, lips curling back to bare sharp teeth. “Oh, they didn’t tell you?”

“You couldn’t have awoken me.” You whispered, brow creasing. “I first appeared in Inazuma, where Kujou Sara killed me.”

The arrow was swift. After hours of wandering across familiar landscapes, the soft buzz of electro on your skin, wonder bright in your eyes. All that was cut short when the tengu woman shot you without hesitation. As you faded away, you heard her mangled scream as you bled gold.

“Awakened, not summoned. We could not control where you descended once your body awoke.”

You nodded. No wonder they were so… prepared to retrieve you, then. Brought back to the Tsaritsa’s palace, you were met with staff, a personal chamber, and every harbinger present to receive you. Even the Tsaritsa herself lowered herself from her icy throne to meet you.

You were very relieved that you met their unknown expectations for this ‘Creator’ you were expected to be.

You felt fingers on your chin, cold, the skin to skin contact separated by his sanitary gloves. He tilted your face up, locking eyes with yours, even if they were hidden by his mask.

He let out a soft, utterly enchanted sigh. “My creator.”

You brought your hand up, cupping his face in turn. Immediately, he slumped into it, like a cat, mumbling again; “My creator… my creator.”

You wondered if his eyes fluttering closed at your touch, if the slump of his shoulders, almost purring sigh, was due to your rank as creator. Was your very touch ecstasy?

His eyes remained closed when he next spoke. “The tsaritsa wishes for your presence, once you are medically cleared. It will be a little bit though. I guess you’ll just have to spend some time within my laboratory. Your health will be observed by me, of course.”

The way he said it, slightly cheeky, made you question if you actually were still sick. Alas, you were out of your depth, for now.

So, you drew back your hand, watching curiously as Dottore’s content look shifted to that of a small frown, lifting his head curiously. At his look of slight disgruntlement, you laughed a bit. “I’ll stay here, just for a few days.”

After all, you needed time to prepare to meet the Tsaritsa.

~~~

So this is all that has been prepped for the Sagau stuff, everything else is just passing thoughts. Thing is, SAGAU is way less popular, which means I read way less, and get less ideas. This is a very traditional SAGAU au tho and I’m happy people liked it!

[fancyfeathers]

What if darling was running away from yandere dearest, and was a fontainian, after the whole primordial sea water thing, and used that as a cover up and fakes their death. Only to encounter yandere dearest yesrs later by accident. You could do whatever you want this with idea, if you want to use it. <3 also i LOVE your writing :D

Connecting with the Yandere Neuvillette and Wriothesley series- Yandere Neuvillette & Wriothesly’s darling thoughts, Nothing You Can Take From Me Was Worth Keeping , I’m Bad But Then Your No Prize Either , post story headcannons, Pankration ring rules, Heartbreaking comparisons, Wriothesley’s darling escaping, Encountering his escaped darling, Wriothesley getting hurt by his darling

This would go extremely well with my Yandere Neuvillette and Wriothesley series, especially with Neuvillette’s darling to reflect Wriothesley’s darling’s escape and him encountering her again

She would have to act quickly, pickpocketing her vision that has been kept in Neuvillette’s pocket. He leaves to take care of the situation and she uses the chaos to slip away. After all the dust had settled, let’s say the darling found a certain harbinger who takes pity on her. When Arlecchino sets out to Snezhnaya, she hides the Iudex’s darling hidden under the deck. The two of them become friends, or at least the darling thinks so, after all the Knave is so kind to her. Meanwhile the worried Neuvillette, who’s darling has been missing for weeks, had just received the list of who was confirmed to be dead, and right on it was his darling’s name, thanks to strings pulled by the Knave… there wasn’t a sunny day for weeks.

After they dock in Snezhnaya they go their separate ways, staying in contact via letters. After that the darling goes off to start her life over again, going to Mondstadt, meeting someone, falling in love, getting married, having children. As the years passed she wrote to the Knave, and invited her to all these important events, the harbinger met the young man like how a father would meet their child’s partner for the first time, she gave a toast at the wedding, and was even one of the first people to hold their baby.

She is also there when the news came of the darling’s spouse’s death. It came almost out of no where, the body found dead in the lake. Of course her “friend” takes her and her baby in, giving her some place safe to stay while she mourned…

The day after the darling moved back to Fontaine with the harbinger, the Knave pays a visit to the dear Iudex of Fontaine. She sits down and has tea with him, friendly conversation before she says what she wants, turn a blind eye to the Fatui for awhile. The Iudex scoffs at the idea that is until she pulls out a photo of his darling, a recent date, and she held a baby in her arms. He didn’t even know how to respond as the Knave smiled at him, knowing his answer already.

The next day when his darling is on a walk, her baby in the stroller, it starts pouring rain. She takes cover in a nearby awning of a business, trying to calm down her baby who was crying from the sudden rain and thunder. That’s when she notices an umbrella cover her from behind, blocking the rest of the rain. She turns to thank the person but her stomach drops, there she sees Neuvillette, holding an umbrella over her and the baby, his eyes full of tears of joy.

Meanwhile a certain harbinger watches from the shadows smiling in her friend’s despair