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punk-in-docs · 4 months ago

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A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

#emperor geta #punkwrites #joseph quinn #ancient rome #gladiator 2 #gladiator #i would die for this man #geta is a bitch ok #lots of holy goddess imagery #idfk what im doing #i wrote this in a fever dream induced daze at 2am ok #pls dont kill me smut in next chap ofc #geta is a hugeeee nasty prick #the title is so douchey I’m sorry #smut to come !

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white-shadow25 · 1 year ago

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Getting Back

Tyki Mikk x Fem!Reader

She squeezed her eyelids tightly, but the intensity of the sunlight that had appeared so suddenly was unavoidable. As her eyes adjusted to the landscape in front of her, discomfort gave way to confusion. She was standing outdoors, in the full light of day.

The warm rays of the sun caressed her face and slid over her shoulders, creating a stark contrast to the wintry cold she had felt before lying down in her bed just moments ago. Because it's winter, she thought.

She looked around cautiously. She was on a path in the middle of a forest. She could see the end of the trail from where she stood, and overcome by confusion, she began to walk towards it. It wasn't until she took a step forward that she realized she was carrying a backpack on her shoulder. With desperation, she checked its contents: two changes of clothes, her glasses case, a toothbrush, medication, a charger, and her phone.

She took the small device, still bewildered, and attempted to locate herself on the map. "No signal," she murmured as she sat on the ground, observing her surroundings. The breeze gently swayed the leaves of the trees, and the sound of the forest was comforting. Could I be dreaming? The idea began to solidify in her mind. I must be! There's no other logical explanation!

She jumped to her feet, Not to mention that my dreams have always been strange. Feeling more relaxed and now filled with a new and insatiable curiosity, she cautiously descended the path.

The only thing that doesn't make sense about this is that I don't usually question my dreams until something truly impossible happens, she thought, remembering the dream where Circus Baby was chasing her, and she was flying away. Now, that was a weird one.

Upon reaching the end of the trail, the trees gave way to a picturesque village that stood, warm and welcoming, taking center stage.

It was indeed a small village, but there were three important things to note. First, the image before her eyes was that of a landscape she had never seen before; it wasn't awe-inspiring or magnificent, just entirely unfamiliar. Second, everyone in the village was dressed in accordance with a bygone era, something resembling the 19th century. And third, despite never having been there, something about this place felt eerily familiar. It was hard to describe. She had never set foot in this village, but there was something about the colors, the buildings, the attire, and the sounds of the people that felt strangely familiar.

It looks like something out of an anime, she thought as she debated whether to enter or not. In my dreams, there's always something chasing me, whether it's a forest animal or a mob of outraged fanatics.

She walked along the outskirts of the village, casually hiding among the trees to avoid prying eyes, exploring the small town that stretched before her.

In the distance, there was someone, a figure that stood out from the crowd. A tall man dressed in period attire, with a top hat and a coat, set him apart from the rest. But whether in a suit or rags, from afar or up close, there was no way she couldn't recognize that silhouette.

"No way...," she whispered, hiding behind a tree as she watched the man calmly walk away from the village entrance. It is a dream after all! She silently slipped closer to him. I never manage to control the dreams where Tyki appears; I have to take this opportunity.

She followed the man closely, calculating her steps and making sure to produce the least noise possible. There are two possibilities, she deduced, observing the man's attire and maintaining a prudent distance. He has just met with the Earl, or he's about to meet with him.

What do I do? Where do I steer this dream? I mean, it would be nice to spend time with him; becoming his friend would be a dream come true, literally, she sighed, her eyes glued to the ground. But how do I get closer? It's not like I can surprise him; the man would kill me befo—

She came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake. Her breath caught for a moment and then became slow and heavy. Her hands began to tremble as she somehow summoned the courage to lift her gaze. She cautiously scanned the path as it stretched out before her, praying that the lethal man was still in sight. When she finally raised her head fully, she couldn't see him. He wasn't there.

She took a step back, fear trembling in her legs. Her back felt the impact of a solid surface, and, as if knowing what would happen, she opened her mouth reflexively, inhaling as much air as she could until a warm and firm hand cut off her airflow. Instinct led her own hands to try to free her throat from the attacker, who, with his other hand and without the slightest effort, managed to immobilize her completely.

"So," [Name] felt the soft caress of his lips on her ear, "who are we looking for?"

She remained still, cold and static. Relax, she thought. Choose your words carefully and appear harmless. For now, regaining oxygen is a priority.

[Name] gently caressed the back of Tyki's hand with her pinky. He opened his eyes and almost dropped his cigarette, but of course, being behind her, [Name] wasn't able to notice it, though she could sense the slight murmur of confusion, even though he refused to let it escape from his throat.

"I would like to answer," she said with great effort; her throat was beginning to burn. "But you see, it's kinda hard when you can't breathe."

Tyki responded with a small "mhh" and loosened his grip on her neck. "Alright, missy. Now, if you don't mind, I'll take the liberty of asking for your name."

"[Name] [Last Name]," she replied instantly, with an attitude that tried to appear cooperative. "Although everyone calls me [Name]," she added after a few seconds.

"Well, [Name], I'm—"

"Tyki Mikk, the Earl's third disciple," Tyki officially dropped his cigarette. In the split second it took him to realize, he grabbed the young woman by the jaw and forced her to face him. For a moment, she thought he looked younger than she remembered. "What?" she asked innocently. Her big, bright eyes locked onto his, golden and icy.

"What's a little creature like you doing alone in the forest?" the noah asked after a while, once he had made sure that the figure clinging to him carried no innocence.

"I got lost (and I'm not that small, you barely top me by a head)."

"Oh, is that so?"

"That's right."

"And were you following me because you were lost?"

"Yes," she looked him in the eyes. "I was following you because I wanted to ask for directions, but," she shrugged, "I'm a bit shy, so I was gathering courage. And... trying to find the right words so you wouldn't kill me."

"Although it seems I failed miserably."

Tyki looked at her impatiently. Oh man, please, at this rate, I'll wake up from the scare, she thought before adding, "I'm looking for the Earl." Tyki's fingers tensed.

"Why?"

"Well, that's the thing. You see when I said I was lost, it wasn't just a figure of speech. I think he can grant me asylum."

Tyki looked at her bewildered. If I remember correctly, Katsura said that during the early phases of D. Gray-man, Tyki expressed his thoughts with his face. Seeing him like this, up close, I have to admit he's quite transparent, she reflected. He must think I'm stupid. It's not really a lie, but it still hurts.

"The Earl?" he scoffed. "Why would h—"

"Because," [Name] cut in, elongating the "a" in a childish chant, "I have information." She took note of the smug look he had acquired upon hearing her feeble excuse.

"Listen, you don't have to trust me, just confirm that I'm weak (which is true) and I pose no threat of any kind. I promise I won't waste your time, and I know that Adam will find what I have to say interesting enough to at least warrant an audience with him. You can kill me at any time if you think I'm up to something suspicious," Tyki pierced her with his gaze, there was no other way to put it, he was trying to intimidate her, although, to his surprise, she smiled genuinely at him. "Literally," she added, "I have no innocence, and even if I did, I know full well I stand no chance against you in combat, let alone you and the Earl."

Tyki considered the possibilities and came to the conclusion that she was right. Whether she was a deserter from the Order or whoever, she wasn't dangerous, and if she did have valuable information, he had nothing to lose by bringing her to the Earl. Not to mention that she not only knew he was a Noah, no, she was more specific than that, ‘the Earl's third disciple,’ she had said. He didn't even remember that about himself. At the very least, he could confirm that she did indeed know a thing or two.

"Very well," Tyki released her slowly, took off his hat, and made an incredibly graceful bow. The man moved with feline fluidity. "Tyki Mikk, at your service."

[Name] raised an eyebrow as she rubbed her newly liberated wrists. "How gentlemanly," she recalled.

It wasn't until that moment that he took the time to observe her. A young woman, probably not older than twenty-three, she wasn't ugly, nor would he say she was a beauty. The lady in question was quite average, from her height to her features. She had nothing outstanding about her, although he admitted, to himself, that she had a charming sparkle in her gaze. He didn't have much time to think about that; his attention was completely and utterly stolen from her face to her attire. She was wearing strange clothes, and although he had never seen anything like them before, he noted that they eerily resembled something familiar.

"If I'm not mistaken," [Name] said abruptly, shaking him from his trance, "your memory should have records of this clothing." He looked at her with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. She just shrugged. "You couldn't stop looking, and I'm aware that the local fashion doesn't resemble it. I assumed it would catch your attention sooner or later."

This is the most narratively coherent dream I've ever had, she noted in her mind.

Tyki took another cigarette from the pack in his pocket, still not taking his eyes off her clothes, then nodded. "How do you know?"

"I don't. It's just a theory for now," Tyki raised an eyebrow around her to prompt her to elaborate, but [Name] just looked away, slightly embarrassed. "I'll tell you after I talk to the Earl."

"How mysterious."

"I'd prefer to keep it while I’m around you," Tyki responded with an inquisitive "mh," offering her his arm like the gentleman he had been taught to be. "Well, if you find me interesting, there are fewer chances you'll kill me on the spot. If you get bored of me, on the other hand, well... I don't see a tomorrow in that."

Tyki smiled to himself. "You seem to know me quite well, and yet, you're not as scared as most people."

[Name] chuckled softly. "By most, do you mean exorcists?" she asked. "You know, those who are your enemies? Those you're supposed to exterminate?"

Without looking away from the front and with a charming smile on his lips, he asked, "What makes you think your situation is different?"

"That you have no reason to kill me. Not yet, at least."

"Not yet?"

[Name] shrugged. "The Earl might not like me, then you'll have a reason to want to eliminate me, or to be ordered to do so."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, mainly because [Name] was trying not to reveal information until she deemed it appropriate, meaning once she decided what to tell the Earl. They covered a wide stretch of the forest until they reached what appeared to be an abandoned train station. [Name] could see the chubby, green figure of the Earl knitting on a bench.

Tyki noticed how [Name] tensed her muscles and relaxed them with each breath.

Well, this is it. This is the moment, she thought. I guess based on this, the rest of the dream will be decided.

"Tyki, good—" the Earl stopped himself when he saw her. His ears perked up and then lowered as he tilted his head, like a confused dog. "Who is that?"

Tyki let go of her arm and placed her in front of him, resting his hands on her shoulders to respond, "Good morning, Earl. This young lady next to me is [Name][Last Name]. She said she had 'information' that might interest you."

The Earl lifted his head slowly, examining the young woman from head to toe. "A deserter from the Order, perhaps?"

[Name] took a step forward. "No," she took a deep breath, "I'm going to reveal something to you. Something important," she added, "And all I'm going to ask is that, before you decide whether to believe me or not, you allow me to state my case."

Tyki raised an eyebrow skeptically while the Earl carefully set his needles and yarn next to him on the bench.

Now or never, she encouraged herself.

"I probably shouldn't start like this, but I can't think of any other way to say it... Well, I'm almost certain that I come from the future."

[Name] could hear Tyki trying to stifle a laugh behind her.

The Earl, on the other hand, didn't find it funny. "Miss, you have a very poor sense of humor."

[Name] frowned. "Actually, you're right, I do laugh at very bad jokes, I won't lie, but that’s not related to what I just said."

Adam lowered his head and shook it slightly. "You've brought me an unfunny clown."

Tyki removed his hat and made a very slight bow with an amused smile on his face. "Yes, it seems so. My apologies, let me—"

"Wait!" [Name] approached the Earl and looked into his eyes. "I know it's hard to believe, to be totally honest, I'm more inclined to think this is a dream than reality." She sat down on the bench next to the Earl. "So, I don't really care much about the consequences of my actions, but I prefer to stay asleep a little longer, and I'm sure that if you execute me in the dream, I'll wake up (and I don't feel like studying for my exams or looking for a job right now)."

Tyki was leaning towards believing that the woman he had found in the forest was crazy, and Adam almost agreed with him. However, there was something about her that left him unsettled. He decided that trying wouldn't cost him anything, so he added, "Then, Miss [Last Name]..." She raised her hand and cut him off before he could finish the sentence.

"I’m sure I said, let me finish stating my case before deciding whether to believe me or not." She leaned closer, closing the distance between her and the Earl. "May I?"

The irreverence caused him a nervous tic, but out of sheer curiosity, he gestured with his hand to invite her to continue speaking.

[Name] let out a breath through her nose and relaxed a bit. "Now, here's my evidence, because, of course, I don't expect you to simply believe me (I wouldn't)."

She turned in her seat toward the Earl. "As I've told Tyki, I have information from both the past and the future. If you promise not to get defensive, I will reveal something from your past and something from your future, so you can draw your own conclusions."

The Earl's ears perked up again, and he chuckled softly. "Very well."

[Name] reached out her hand. "Deal?"

"Deal," said the patriarch, shaking the offered hand.

"Okay."

Now, the question is, what do I tell him? I can't tell him anything he doesn't know about himself, like that he split in two about fifty years ago, no, or that he's actually Mana Walker.

Tyki decided to approach to observe the scene. The young woman who had presumably lost her mind was looking at the ground at her feet while playing with her fingers. She seemed truly lost in her thoughts until a spark lit up her face when she met the Earl's gaze.

"You killed Nea D. Campbell around thirty or forty years ago, and you're looking for the musician who can move the Ark."

The Earl stopped breathing for a moment, and both [Name] and Tyki noticed the tension in his body. Tyki, in particular, could detect the slight nervous tremor in the patriarch's hands. As he had suspected, even if this girl was crazy, it was evident that she had information. Not even he knew about that. He didn’t even know who Nea D. Campbell was.

"While that is confidential information—"

"Cross Marian also knows about it, yes. And he could have told me if he knew me. I don't really think he would, but it's a logical conclusion that I could find out about this from someone else. That's why I'll add a detail about your future. To place me in time, tell me, have you happened to meet any cursed exorcist recently?"

The Earl looked expectant, she was managing at least a bit of information; that seemed to be true. "No."

[Name] nodded. Then it's safe to assume I'm somewhere before the original story begins, she thought.

"You'll hear about Nea again. Since I don't know exactly what year it is, I'll take a risk and say it will be in about three or four years... Although, well, since you all reincarnate, I don't know if that's something you wouldn't know..."

The Earl stopped hearing the woman in front of him. Yes, it was true that he had suspected he would see Nea again, but he hadn't dared to guess a date.

With narrowed eyes, he returned his attention to the girl who was still babbling, now lower, definitely more for herself, and asked her one more thing: "How do you know?" he demanded, shaking her out of her monologue and bringing her back to the conversation.

"I read it," she answered immediately, without even thinking about it. "You see," she scratched her neck and looked at the ground, as if trying to find the words in the earth to explain, "where I come from, there's something like a history book."

"In fact, it's more like a biography than a neutral textbook about the war, so I lack details, especially about the noah. It's fair to admit from the start that most of the information I have comes without exact dates and is very centered on this specific exorcist, so everything I know revolves around him. Still, I have vague details about your past and future. The thing is," she explained, gesturing with her hands, "I didn't finish the book, so I have very limited information.

"More specifically, two years of events from when this exorcist joins the Order."

Tyki unconsciously bit the filter of his cigarette. What this woman was telling him sounded unreal, impossible, but somehow, feasible. No wonder she thinks it's a dream, he thought. After all, if what she said was true, he wouldn't believe it either.

The Earl was beginning to open up to the possibility that everything [Name] was telling him was indeed real, but he remained skeptical.

[Name] noticed it instantly and, looking at Tyki, jumped from her seat.

"You!" she pointed with a shout. "I have an idea," she said, still pointing at Tyki. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Tyki can pass through anything, right? Anything belonging to this world, which is why you can't pass through innocence because it's not from 'this world'."

The Earl chuckled softly. "What are you suggesting?" he asked, having a light idea of where she was going.

"Well, I'm not sure if it will work, because the future still belongs to 'this world.'"

Since I definitely didn't come from the future, if this dream remains as coherent as it has been so far, it should work without any issues, she thought.

"But I understand that it's physically impossible to travel back in time, so what about," [Name] raised both index fingers in parallel and separated them a bit, "instead of coming from the future, I come from a parallel world with a different time?"

Adam arched an eyebrow, hidden under his hat. His eyes fixed on the finger a few inches from his face.

"Come on, don't make that face. You came here somehow, right?" The Earl raised his head suddenly to face her. "Yes, I know about that too. Now, back to the important, if my conclusion is right (which I doubt), Tyki shouldn't be able to pass through me. In fact, I'm inclined to believe that if Tyki can't pass through me, Wisely won't be able to read my mind, Sheril won't control my body, and Road won't be able to take my mind anywhere." She looked at the Earl with determined eyes. "And since I'm betting on all or nothing, I'll also say that you won't be able to absorb me."

Adam pondered it for a moment; in a way, everything she said made sense.

"And what if you're wrong?"

[Name] smiled. "All or nothing, sir. If I'm wrong, Tyki kills me."

Tyki watched her with wide eyes and a mouth that looked somewhat like a nervous smile. She's insane, he thought. He looked over the young woman's shoulder at the Earl, who gestured for him to come closer.

“Tyki, may I entrust you with this task?”

The Noah sighed in resignation and shrugged. If she really didn't care for her life, there was nothing he could do about it.

[Name] and Tyki stood facing each other, less than a meter apart, with the Earl watching from the bench.

"You know? Maybe if you beg a little, you might save yourself from this."

[Name] shook her head, and Tyki noticed the excited smile she was trying hard to hide. “Honestly, I think I'm more curious to know if this will work out than he is.”

Totally out of her mind… but 'I'm more inclined to believe this is a dream than a reality' that's what she had said. She really thinks she's dreaming, he concluded. Well, is better to die like this.

Tyki decided to be merciful and handle things delicately. He brushed the fabric of her shirt with just two fingers and looked her in the eyes. "Any last words?"

She gazed at him with an intensity he couldn’t recall ever seeing. After a cute mouth twitch and a glance around the place, she looked back at him.

“Did you hear about the Italian chef who died?” Tyki frowned, totally bewildered. “He pasta-way.”

Officially, the noah lost his second cigarette of the day. He bit his lip trying to restrain himself from smiling, but failed. The absurdity of the moment overwhelmed him, and he burst into laughter that he could barely control.

When he had finished, he straightened up and caught the young woman looking at him with soft eyes and a gentle smile played at the corners of her lips. A faint pink covered her cheeks, and she let out a small giggle.

"You have a really lovely laugh. It's a pleasure to hear it before I die."

Tyki blinked with a silly smile on his face, unsure of how to react. While he was used to flirting, this was different. And absurd. Absurd above everything else. Although he couldn't deny that it was the nicest compliment he had received in a while.

Tyki sighed. All of a sudden, he no longer felt like killing her, but a job was a job. He placed two fingers above her heart again, with every intention of making it as painless as possible, and swiftly pierced.

He withdrew his hand immediately and shook his wrist as he felt the sudden pain in his fingers. [Name] was on the ground in front of him, gently rubbing the area where he had just hit with a wince curving her lips and furrowed brows.

"Ouch," she whimpered, still softly rubbing the spot where he had poked her just a moment ago. "I didn't think that if it didn't work, the impact would hurt."

The Earl interlaced his fingers and watched the scene without a word.

Tyki glanced at his hand, then at the young woman on the ground. His eyes widened again, and he was thankful he didn't have a cigarette in his mouth, as he would have lost it once more time. He leaned down next to her and grabbed her arms, applying force in an attempt to pass through her.

"Hey!" [Name] called, trying to break free from his grip. "You can do the same without hurting me, you know?"

From the future, Tyki saw the young woman in a new light. Does she really come from the future?

"Very well."

Both [Name] and Tyki turned their heads abruptly toward the Earl, realizing they had forgotten about him.

The Earl kept his gaze fixed on the scene before him as [Name] and Tyki interacted. The situation was incredibly strange, but the young woman had provided evidence that was hard to ignore or completely dismissed.

"As difficult as it may seem, I am inclined to think that everything you say is true," the Earl declared finally, breaking his silence. His voice was calm and thoughtful as he continued to watch [Name] and Tyki.

[Name] jumped up. "Really?" Adam just nodded. "Well, that's good news," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "I can't even fully believe it myself," she added, her laughter fading as she noticed the persistent pain in her chest. It wasn't unbearable, just what you'd expect after someone forcefully jabbed two fingers into you. But there was something unsettling about it.

The noah, who had noticed the nervous and almost hysterical atmosphere surrounding the small figure, stood up and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Missy?" he asked, watching as she rubbed the area where he had tried to penetrate. Just as he started to wonder if he had hurt her too badly, she murmured, "I've never felt pain in a dream before," she turned slowly to see his hand on her shoulder, “nor… warmth."

She opened her eyes wide as acceptance settled into the depths of her mind. A wave of nausea washed over her, and her vision blurred. Her heart adopted a dangerous rhythm that threatened to burst out of her chest, and her legs turned into jelly, barely able to support her weight. It felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under her feet. She clung to Tyki's arm for support as she struggled to breathe.

Tyki witnessed the scene in slow motion and managed to catch her before she completely lost consciousness. It's not a dream anymore, is it? he thought. He held her in his arms and looked at the Earl.

"What should we do with her?"

Adam looked at the unconscious body in Tyki's arms. "We'll take her with us for now. That's what she wanted, right?"

Tyki nodded. "She mentioned needing a place to stay."

"Very well, then. It's settled," the Earl said, his ears twitching up and down one last time. "Let's go. We're already running late, and on top of that, we'll have to add an extra seat at the table."

The Earl made a mental note to find some proper clothes for their unconscious guest. He watched as Tyki performed a complicated maneuver to lift the young woman's backpack and added, "Be careful. You're carrying a very special guest."

#tyki mikk x reader #dgm x reader #tyki x reader #tyki mikk #chap 0 #provisional title #Any ideas??

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