#Rails memory

[digitalmemoriez]

✫･ﾟ*.2013･ﾟ✫*

[notarakhae]

Silly man and his silly dog

[starcurtain]

Detangling Mydei's Backstories Backstory?

My last post, casting doubt on 3.2's revelation that Mydei's immortality is deliberate on his part, led to some interesting discussion in the comments that definitely reinforced my earlier thoughts that the inconsistencies in Mydei's backstory are too numerous to be accidental. Star Rail is not known for its flawless continuity (Robin and Sunday's backstory, I'm looking at you lol), but usually the inconsistencies are not so overt, and repeated so many times, that they become central to the entire plot of a character.

So I wanted to refine my earlier theory a bit: I'm cautiously optimistic that there are enough signs that the inconsistencies in Mydei's backstory are deliberate, and that the Mydei of the current cycle in Amphoreus is actively experiencing an entanglement between two different timelines, without (yet) consciously recognizing the incompatibility of his own "memories."

When we work from the standpoint that the events of Mydei's backstory can be separated into two distinct timelines, the inconsistencies vanish:

The "Sea of Souls" Timeline

This is the most prominent timeline, and the one that appears most accurate for "our" Mydei. In this timeline, Mydei was thrown into the Sea of Souls as a tiny infant and spent the first nine years of his life there. This is confirmed both in the flashback we're provided early in 3.1, as well as in Mydei's voicelines and character stories.

After nine years, he crawled out of the sea (possibly motivated by witnessing Tribbie's "star" in the sky). On the same day (or very near it), he met with a band of Kremnoan exiles.

Whether this was a larger group already, constituting a small "detachment" army of exiles, or just started with the five exiled friends and Mydei then grew into a small army by picking up other exiles over time, is still unclear. However, at this point, Mydei makes no mention of returning to Kremnos and instead goes straight from "leaving the sea" to "living ten years in exile:"

This is the key point of inconsistency between the two "halves" of Mydei's story--either he lived in Kremnos or he didn't. We can handwave here and say "Yes, he returned to Kremnos with his friends and they just hid their identities, leaving Kremnos years later in a self-imposed exile," but the story gives us absolutely no indication that this realistically could have happened. Mydei never once mentions hiding his identity, changing his appearance, or living a double life in the city, and never explains how he would have had access to the inner city of Kremnos ("as befitting a crown prince") and the royal library, yet still go totally unnoticed by his father or anyone loyal to Eurypon, including Krateros. (There's also no explanation at all for why he would have wanted to return to a city ruled by someone who tried to murder him and where he would have had to live life under a fake identity just to get by, but you know...)

Instead, the game does give us several pieces of information indicating that the five Kremnoan exiles did not return to Kremnos after meeting Mydei:

First, Mydei's character stories confirm that Mydei deliberately hid his name while traveling in exile across Amphoreus, indicating that he knew he would be recognized by Eurypon/Eurypon's loyalists if he didn't hide his identity. This awareness suggests it is extremely unlikely that Mydei could have returned to Kremnos without being identified:

This also suggests that, at this point in this timeline, no one in Castrum Kremnos knew for sure that Mydeimos had survived being thrown into the Sea of Souls and returned. This is further confirmed by a memory fragment where Krateros says there has been a "rumor" that the leader of the exiled Kremnoan army is one who "defied death." Krateros alone makes the assumption that this could be Mydei and decides to defect to aid him:

This memory suggests two things clearly: Mydei was not living in Kremnos at the time Krateros defected, and the exile of all of Mydei's friends must have taken place before they met Mydei, years in the past, as there is no way an entire small army could have been exiled from Kremnos, with Mydei in toe, and not at all attract Krateros's attention until after they were gone.

The idea that Mydei never returned to Kremnos is further enforced by Eurypon, who did not recognize Mydei when he confronted him, to the point that he didn't believe Mydei was even Kremnoan. This suggests that Eurypon not only didn't know Mydei's true identity--he'd never seen him before at all, making it extremely unlikely that Mydei was walking around Castrum Kremnos, talking to Chryseus Leo, and reading in the royal library all under some false identity for years. Eurypon certainly wouldn't have been capable of exiling someone he'd never seen before from Kremnos, in any case!

Therefore, we can assume the series of events in this timeline is pretty straightforward: Mydei entered the Sea of Souls as a baby, came out nine years later, went straight into a life of exile with his five friends, amassed power and support for ten years, and then returned to seek vengeance on his father.

The only remaining question in this timeline becomes "When did Mydei join up with Okhema?"

I think, in this timeline, it makes the most sense for Mydei to have only joined up with Okhema after killing his father. In 3.1, Mydei confirms to Phainon that all his friends died before he was able to kill his father, and that none of them ever made it to Okhema:

Therefore, the final order of events for the more prominent timeline is:

Dumped into the sea as an infant, nine years in the Sea of Souls

Ten years in exile with his friends amassing strength and support

Returns to Kremnos, kills his father, and the last of his friends dies that day

Then he defects to Okhema, leading any of the Kremnoans willing to follow him there.

By itself, this story makes perfect sense. If this was all the information we'd been given, there wouldn't have been any gaps.

Unfortunately, we also have a whole other set of information that massively conflicts with these events, which can only really be explained two ways: Either Hoyo messed up (again) and really dropped the consistency ball when it comes to writing Mydei's backstory... Or there's an entire separate timeline going on. Personally, I'm leaning toward the latter, because there are just too many seemingly deliberate fingers in the story pointing toward the inconsistencies for them to feel entirely unintentional to me.

Therefore, I propose that Mydei's memories are actually getting infiltrated by a second, entirely different timeline:

The "Gorgo Lives" Timeline

From 3.0 all the way to 3.2, we're given numerous pieces of information that point to a wholly different order to the events of Mydei's life, contrasting the story that Mydei tells Phainon in the Garden. At first, these events seem scattered and nonsensical, contradicting the "main" timeline in too many ways to be anything but errors... But when taken as a whole, we can build a second coherent timeline out of these events if we make one assumption: There is a timeline where Gorgo lived longer.

In the second timeline which is intruding on Mydei's memories, there appears to be one key point of divergence: Gorgo did not die dueling Eurypon. Either she never challenged him to the duel, or (more likely) she was never successfully poisoned, and therefore it's possible she won the duel, allowing her to rescue Mydei from the sea.

Working from that possibility, a second complete timeline emerges:

Mydei was thrown into the Sea of Souls as an infant but did not drift there for nine years. Instead, he was rescued and brought back to Kremnos, where he was allowed to grow up in the inner city, with access to both Chryseus Leo, who served as his teacher, and access to the royal library, which he is proud enough of to call "his" library. He is able to lead Phainon and the Trailblazer around Castrum Kremnos even in its ruined state because he grew up there, spending enough time there to know the city like the back of his hand:

This is where we can slot in the inconsistent memories Mydei has of Gorgo:

(By the way, although Mydei writes this scene off as a dream, you can actually hear Oronyx's whisper play in the black screen seconds before this "dream" occurs...)

But okay, let's say this is just a wishful dream. Maybe this scene never happened. If all we got of Gorgo supposedly raising Mydei was this moment in 3.1, I might agree that it was just a dream (other than there being no reason to play Oronyx's sound effect there, but you know). However, in 3.2 they then hit us with this:

That's multiple moments now pointing to a timeline where Gorgo raised Mydei. Once is handwave-able--twice? That's deliberate.

In this secondary timeline, Mydei appears to have grown up as Kremnos's beloved crown prince, being warmly embraced by his people (at least until Kremnos fell into calamity). Apparently his days consisted of eating pomegranates, training for combat, playing with Kremnos's kids, and hanging out with his five friends. We see snippets of this idyllic life (along with his five friends appearing to be roughly the same age as him--something that likely wouldn't be true in the "main" timeline, by the way) on Mydei's long march back into Castrum Kremnos:

I know some people took this to be Mydei hallucinating or just wishfully imagining a life where he was able to be happy with his friends, possibly even some metaphorical "encountering the souls of the departed in a paradise," but I don't think this is true. Every single time Mydei phases in and out of this "hallucination," the visual effect and the sound effect of Oronyx are distinctly played--the exact same sound and visuals that play when Trailblazer activates Oronyx's prayer to jump between timelines.

Mydei himself doesn't seem to quite understand what is happening to him in this moment, as you can hear him stumble and pant as he repeatedly goes through flashes of Oronyx's power. You can listen to comparison video clips on the prior post I made about Mydei's backstory.

Furthermore, if we work from the assumption that these moments actually represent a rupture between timelines, then the rest of the inconsistencies can finally be cleared up:

In 3.0, Mydei says that his choice to leave Castrum Kremnos was not a forced exile but a "self-imposed" one:

And this aligns with what he stated in the Garden of Life to Phainon, that he and his friends "left Castrum Kremnos" to go into this self-imposed exile, rather than having never returned to Kremnos from the sea:

Furthermore, this also aligns with the angry NPCs in the past version of Castrum Kremnos that Trailblazer and Castorice travel back to:

Remember that this version of Castrum Kremnos was supposed to be occurring while Eurypon was still alive, so there is absolutely no way this line makes sense in the same universe where Eurypon didn't even know Mydei had survived. There isn't any way, in "our" timeline, that Mydei could have been both the "crown prince" of Kremnos for these NPCs and completely unknown to his father, the king.

These NPCs, furthermore, directly accuse Mydei of "deserting Kremnos," suggesting that Mydei was living in Castrum Kremnos as their prince, and then abandoned them to join Aglaea in Okhema, getting himself and everyone who went with him labelled as "traitors to Kremnos" in the process. None of this makes sense in the context of a timeline where no one in Kremnos knew he had even survived.

Instead, all of these elements point to a different sequence of events:

Gorgo lived, likely winning her duel and thereby (likely) giving her the right to save Mydei from the Sea of Souls and bring him back to Kremnos. He was raised by his mother as the beloved crown prince of Kremnos. Then, years later, as his father and Nikador both descended into full madness, Mydei and the Kremnoan detachment defected.

But what would have triggered this sudden need to defect after years of leading Kremnos as a well-liked prince?

The flashback between Mydei and Eurypon actually suggests a possible reason:

Apparently, at some point, in some timeline, Mydei knew about Eurypon's plan to break Nikador's divinity into separate parts and seal him away, harnessing the power of their titan for himself.

Yet the Mydei of 3.0 seems to have no idea about any of this, never able to give any explanation for how Nikador has degraded so much nor why Nikador is seemingly unkillable. Castorice, Mem, and the Trailblazer have to come up with the idea to go back in time to the past Kremnos by themselves, because Mydei never makes any mention of there ever having been a plot to break up and seal away Nikador's divinity, even when they walk past the very blades that did the sealing.

Finally, there's one last piece of conflicting information: While talking to Phainon in the Garden of Life, Mydei states that all of his friends died before the detachment could ever join up with Okhema and that all of their deaths occurred by the time he went to kill his father. But this conflicts with the NPCs above, who state that Mydei had already defected to Okhema and joined the Flame Chase Journey as a Chrysos Heir while his father was still alive.

This inconsistency is further reinforced by a memory fragment with Krateros, who confirms that Mydei had joined up with Okhema already before killing his father:

Putting all of this together, the complete series of events for this second timeline becomes:

Infant Mydei is quickly rescued from the Sea of Souls, is instead raised by his mother, and grows up as the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos with his five friends.

At some point, years later, he discovers Eurypon's plot to break up and imprison Nikador's divinity, and he and his friends and supporters defect from Kremnos as a result.

Either they go straight to Okhema (I'm inclined to say that "ten years of wandering" doesn't fit, chronologically speaking, into this secondary timeline) or they do wander a bit, but ultimately, Mydei reaches Okhema and aligns with Aglaea before killing his father.

After aligning the Kremnoan Detachment with Okhema, Mydei returns to Castrum Kremnos to kill his father, possibly to halt Eurypon's evil plan to harness Nikador's power.

At some point in this timeline, presumably before Mydei returns to kill his father, Gorgo likely still dies (possibly killed by Eurypon and/or Nikador), which explains why the Gorgo in the Sea of Souls seems to be the one convinced that she raised Mydei.

And this is just pure personal speculation, because there isn't enough evidence to really confirm it, but I almost feel like we can even pinpoint how/when the whole decision to defect to Okhema took place. At the end of Mydei's flashbacks to the "peaceful" Kremnos, Peucesta says that Mydei has been away from Kremnos for a while.

Leonnius assumes that Mydei was away on some apparently extended training trip, but this moment specifically ends with Gorgo welcoming Mydei home and asking him one very important question:

Obviously these lines are doing double duty, symbolically welcoming the present Mydei back to the ruins of Castrum Kremnos and asking him whether he's finally ready to take on his role as the "Guardian of Amphoreus." But as the wiki notes, this takes place in a flashback to the past, and for the "Mydei of the past" (aka the Mydei of the alternate timeline), this could very well have been Mydei disappearing from Kremnos to make contact with Aglaea in Okhema, and Gorgo questioning him about his decision to commit himself to the Flame Chase Journey, leading up to an ultimate and permanent defection from Kremnos. (This is just speculation though, trying to tie the last few loose ends together.)

Anyway, when taken from this perspective, that there are two separate backstories here, one from a world where Gorgo lived and the more prominent one where she died, we can sort all the seeming inconsistencies in Mydei's backstory into two surprisingly tidy and complete timelines.

I haven't yet found anything in any Mydei scene that doesn't fit one of these two scenarios, so I'm starting to definitely feel optimistic here that this writing was intentional, and that the "contradictory" backstory we're seeing for Mydei isn't "the worst continuity Star Rail has served up to date," but instead an actual deliberate choice to present us with a character whose memories are a hodge-podge of two divergent timelines, snippets of one timeline constantly erupting and "filling in the blanks" of the other.

I think this would be a fascinating way to lead up to the idea that Amphoreus's world isn't real, that it's a cobbled together story or set of memories that someone is barely holding together, and that it's constantly cyclical in nature, with events repeating with slight variations across times. The idea that Mydei is actually experiencing two different sets of memories crushed together into a tangled jumble and that he's only just now starting to become aware of the discrepancies would be such an excellent way to reinforce the "unreality" of Amphoreus's plot as a whole.

I really hope this is the direction that they take the story... Or at least that I won't one day be looking at all my Mydei posts and sadly thinking to myself that I put a lot more thought into the character's backstory than his own writers did, RIPPPPP. 😂😂😂

Cope with me, people!

[hopefulceladon]

︶⊹ all beauty, no beast | phainon x reader

summary: phainon, for whatever reason, refuses to reveal his demiurge self, up until the very moment you manage to get him to crack. notes: WRITTEN BEFORE THE 3.4 UPDATE!! if this ends up ooc at all i'll cry. i love phainon and freaknon so much that i ended up listening to an indulgent worm whispering that i should make a fic where you get to hug demiurge phainon. so now we're here. word count: 2.2k ao3 link: here!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ⋆ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“I... really don’t think you should see me like this, partner.”

There was an anxious waver lingering within Phainon’s voice as he addressed you from behind the nearby wall; a broken, unsure cadence familiar to your ears, but deeply foreign as it rang forth from his lips.

It was hard not to frown at his desperately uttered sentiments, but it didn’t come as a complete surprise. After all, upon the days that followed both the retrieval of Kephale’s Coreflame and the subsequent beginning of Era Nova’s end, Phainon had grown increasingly distant.

It had stung, of course, being gradually pushed away by the very man who had already sworn nearly everything to protect you from whatever turmoil that’d erupt—and was, already, erupting—upon the disintegrating planet, not realizing that he was actively hurting you in the process, but you tried to regard the circumstances with as much understanding as your wounded heart would allow.

Still, never once did you suspect he’d ever go so far as to physically avoid you, too.

But despite all your growing fears of abandonment and the countless streams of resentful thoughts that had trickled forth from them, you swallowed down any trace of the biting poison that resided upon your tongue, and lathered your words with the patience you knew was far more productive to possess.

The vile aftertaste of the hastily downed bitterness had burned your throat, but you knew it was only a small price to pay to maintain a bond once so sweet.

“You’ve avoided me for the past few mornings,” you finally stated, silently praying none of your deeply bruised feelings would surface. “You’ve hid behind pillars, slipped off into abandoned corridors...” you trailed off with a frown. “Whatever it is, it can’t possibly be as dire as you so clearly fear.”

A small, shaky chuckle from the other side proved he was still there, still listening.

“You’re right,” Phainon agreed, and it had lifted up your hopes for only a second, before they were chased back down with a weary sigh. “...it’s worse.”

“Phainon.”

The stubborn man didn't yield, even at your utterance of his name. “I know,” he whispered, despite his own cluelessness. “I know what you're thinking—that we’ve stuck to each other's side through thick and through thin, rejoiced in both our highs, and tried to cheer the other up at both our lows...”

He took a breath before he continued. “But, this is... different. This-” 

“Phainon.”

You were pleased by the silence that had followed—it always was hard for him to outshine your own obstinance, after all.

“...amidst all this chaos and all this uncertainty, I really just wish to see you again.”

In light of your earnest sincerity, Phainon allowed for nothing to escape in response; not a word was uttered, nor did even a single sigh escape past the separating barrier. All you could hear was a series of light tapping noises against the surface—rhythmic, yet hurried, steady, yet unassured.

This time, his silence had worried you.

“I think,” Phainon continued after moments had passed, as if he had taken the time to deeply mull over your words. “...that if you’re trying to avoid any sort of ‘chaos’ in your life, then I’m right, and I really should stay behind this wall.”

“Oh, please.” you brushed his words off with a huff, growing weary of your unwilling role in this endless song-and-dance. “...how bad can it really be?”

You swore you heard a soft gulp.

“...very bad?”

It had taken an arduous amount of restraint to force down a harsh groan that, judging by Phainon’s current tone alone, would’ve certainly deflated him into a completely pitiful pile, but you willingly did it for his sake.

“My love,” you uttered the endearment abruptly, before softening your voice down to a pleading whisper. “...please.”

It was a terribly cheap tactic, but it was one you had indeed learned and mastered from the indirect guidance of the very worst. After all, the master must’ve surely been even the slightest bit fallible to the very weaknesses he exploited?

The small, hushed ‘that’s hardly fair...’ you heard Phainon whisper—whine?—underneath his breath already allowed you to picture the pitiful expression upon his features, from the slight frown upon his lips, to the widening of his pupils as he immediately yearned to rectify his mistakes.

“...I never could say no to you, could I?”

Upon his confession, a bitter, resigned sigh had escaped him, as if Phainon had finally accepted his own fate.

“But... you can’t say I never warned you.”

Even amidst such a dire situation, you couldn’t help but crack a weak smile at the familiar words. It was a phrase that once would’ve forced a loving wince out of you in happier times, but now, you were just thankful to be even brief acquaintances with a fleeting touch of normalcy at all.

As expectant as you were to hear approaching footsteps, tapping against the shared ground beneath both your feet, you were taken aback by the stillness that followed. Even if you could somehow sense that Phainon’s presence was drawing near, you weren’t certain as to how that was.

That was, of course, until Phainon finally revealed himself.

What stood—moreso hovered, really—in what you had expected to be Phainon’s place, was a floating figure that strongly resembled a man of similar stature, if not just the slightest bit taller.

The first difference you had recognized was his hair, once a comforting shade of snow-white and lightly fluffed, now a glowing hue of pale gold, unruly and tousled about. Phainon’s sudden lack of the typical armor that adorned his body was the next thing you noted, as unfamiliar wings of black and gold shielded his form away from your perception, the shiny, nearly mechanical plumes wrapped around his torso like a curtain that hid away all of his shame.

You finally looked up to meet his eyes, hoping to still see the same pair of aquamarine you’ve familiarized yourself with, only to gaze upon shimmering gold instead.

The man who levitated before you might’ve looked so vastly different compared to what you’ve always known, but despite all the physical changes that might’ve separated one from the other, deep down you could tell it was still him.

And as you cast your gaze upon the spiked, gleaming halo that clung behind Phainon’s head and bathed his form anew with warm, ethereal light, you swore he was a sight ripped straight out of a myth of old, a celestial vision bestowed upon only a select few.

You weren’t scared like he had feared you to be, no.

Matter of fact, it was hard to feel anything but downright awe at the sight.

Still, in light of your sudden brush with speechlessness, Phainon’s lips obliviously downturned.

“...you must think it’s pretty bad, too.” 

Phainon’s voice, despite his tensed features, was still soft, as if he had already resigned himself to the likes of his false beliefs, yet remained so dejected because of them.

It was then you swore to yourself you never wished to hear the once-beaming man sound so uncertain ever again.

“What? No, you look-”

“Like a monster, prepping himself to strike?” he guessed.

“No!” you cried out, your boiling frustrations over his lack of understanding starting to spill over into your words. “We’ve both seen monsters before. We’ve both seen the depraved hunger in the eyes of the creatures consumed by the Black Tide, the crazed bloodlust radiating off the corrupted Titankin—we’ve even both been on the receiving end of the Flame Reaver’s blade!”

You paused, hastily chasing after the air that eluded you upon your spiel.

“We’ve both seen the very epitome of evil before, my love—”

Even as your gait trembled, with every step more cautious than the last, you stood before him, closer than either of you expected to be.

“—and I’m positive you couldn't look anything less alike.”

Phainon had froze at your words, a slightly hitched intake of breath giving his surprise away.

The silence that fell upon the atmosphere was solely broken up by the pattering of more careful strides towards him, all gentle in their approach, treating him as if he were a wounded stray at high risk of snapping forth to protect himself.

But even despite his new, slightly imposing visage, Phainon remained incredibly docile.

“You really are breathtaking.” you whispered with earnest reverence.

Phainon chuckled weakly before he shook his head. “You know, if I were you, I’d... probably be running away from me in utter fear.”

“Right, well,” you clicked your tongue, unable to prevent the smile that soon formed. “...you’re also sometimes an idiot, so...”

Cautiously, you lifted up your hand and cradled Phainon’s cheek against your palm, the surface of his pale skin surprisingly warm against the thumb you stroked it with.

“...maybe it’d be for the best if I didn't always listen to what you’d do in my shoes, yeah?”

It didn't take long for Phainon to lean—no, melt, into your soothing touch.

As your fingers reached skyward to thread themselves through his mussed locks of ivory, it was if your presence alone had been what finally stilled him, as Phainon all but clung to you like a scared, helpless puppy would still cling to a beloved tattered toy, his arms firmly wrapping around you and pressing you closer against him as if you were the very fragile, fraying tapestry that upheld what little remained of his diminishing stability.

Maybe because to him, that's nearly what you were.

And as you basked in the comfort of his embrace—even if it had, indeed, felt far stronger than the likes of the ones he bestowed from his other form’s arms—you willingly molded yourself against Phainon’s frame in kind, bathing yourself in the pleasant, perfect warmth that radiated from his body, breathing in the sweet scent of the morning's dreary dew that had bonded itself to his skin.

Phainon soon turned his head and pressed fleeting kisses to the skin of your palm, his eyes squeezed shut, as if this were a blissful dream he had no desire to rouse from.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you.” Phainon murmured, further sealing his apologies against your hand with another press of his lips, the brief touch nearly trembling, as if he’d rather soon perish than to allow for even a mere inch of your palm to go unloved.

You deeply loathed the waver that remained in his voice.

“It’s alright,” you tried your best to soothe, hugging him ever closer. “...the past few days have been absolute living nightmares. I could never fault you for falling prey to any stressful whims.”

Phainon didn't respond further, stiffening at what you presumed was the reminder of all the discord that wreaked havoc upon the surrounding world. Before you could apologize for bringing such a depressing topic up, however, the man had scooped you closer and floated down until you both rested upon the ground, propping you upright against the wall that once separated you, before choosing to rest his head against your lap.

You froze.

Hesitant to break the tranquility of the moment, and even more reluctant to shatter the peaceful expression upon Phainon’s features that had only grown to be an increasingly rare sight as of late, you didn’t dare question his actions, choosing instead to resume rubbing soothing circles against his warm scalp.

“...angel?”

Your fingertips stilled at the abruptly whispered name, and you were quick to glance down towards the source.

What had met your gaze was the precious sight of Phainon looking up at you through long lashes, his softened, golden eyes gleaming—tenderly, pleadingly so—with the same levels of potency as the bright blue you’ve always known.   He then grabbed onto one of your hands—utterly careful with exactly how he had grasped it, solely so that the gilded claws of his armor would not penetrate your flesh and draw pointless blood—and squeezed it within the confines of his own, firm enough to ground himself in the moment, firm enough to remind himself that yes, you truly were there with him.

Phainon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“I never wish to live a life where you’re not there by my side, you know.” he confessed quietly.

It was such a profound thing to admit so suddenly, but you knew why he had done so; Phainon’s life had always been dotted and dashed with countless loss after loss, and so he must’ve feared that you...

You squeezed his hand in return.

“I... I don’t think you ever will.”

Of course, you both knew that neither of you could ever wholeheartedly afford to keep such a lofty promise, but you were more than willing to take your chances upon whispering flimsy sentiments none could ever fulfill, if it meant your beloved hero could finally find some temporary semblance of rest.

And it must’ve worked, because the tension that had once left Phainon’s shoulders haggard seemed to have ebbed away at your reassurances, which only encouraged him to hold you even closer, his arms now lazily draped over atop your legs.

“Mm, good.” Phainon finally whispered against your thighs, his voice slightly muffled.

Your heart warmed at his sleepy murmur, your hands still idly playing with his hair.

“Why 'good?'”

“...because you really were my greatest miracle.”

[manytoonepoet]

I really do love these kinds of characters: characters who are confident yet insecure, harsh yet kind, genius yet could also be clueless at times, so sure of oneself and one's abilities, yet could also not know how they could contribute to something bigger in this group project called life.

Perhaps it's the mystery that surrounds them. No, not the "tall, dark, and handsome" kind of mystery, but the kind of mystery that billows like smoke whenever you open the packaging to a puzzle, or the heavy fog that guards the gates to a new world, or even a new universe that you're about to step into. The contradiction, the beautifully enigmatic beings that are these characters, the warring sides that long and strive for domination of their bodies presents something thought-provoking that it could invite the most prestigious of scholars to study them.

You see, these characters are not just characters; they're journeys that one must experience to understand, but even then, you can't confidently say that you know them 100% because it seems as though each day adds yet another layer of complexity to their character, a new level that one must go through to proceed through the next. And the best part of all this, you are rewarded with something so profound that it coaxes you to look at your own self.

Because, you see, these characters can be so complex that only a few people would willingly try and understand them; these characters can be so complex that only fewer people would willingly try to accept them. These characters can be so complex that they feel more human than the majority of the people in this world of ours.

They don't conform to trends, they don't conform to standards, even if they long to be accepted into something there is always a part of them that recolis whenever they are being placed into a bucket in an effort to "fit in" because some unconscious, maybe subconscious, part of them understand that an adjective or two is simply unable to even begin to describe who they are, what they represent, and what they contribute to this plane of existence.

They have brains, they have hearts, they have souls, they have humanity, even.

That is why I refuse to believe that these characters have no other purpose than fleeting entertainment.

While, yes, there are no such thing as mages or fire-breathing dragons or fairies or mermaids or whatever fantastical creature you can think of. But there are people who are vain, who are selfish, who are ruthless, who are liars, who are murderous, who are evil. And there are people who are humble, who are selfless, who are kind, who are truthful, who are good. However, human as we are, it's impossible for us to be purely good; there are times when we make mistakes, whether intentionally or not for example. And these characters represent that. They embody the nuances of what it's like to be human, to war between desire and longing and desire and longing. They are the soldiers sent to war to kill to protect and bring peace and not even know if they've managed to include the ones so dear to them in that bubble of protection and peace. They are the fathers who fully understand their sons are in the wrong, but even amid a stern lecture, they can't help but worry about whether or not they're harmed. They are the child who had to lie and adjust for a friend, only to ask them if they can drop the act in private later because they know it's wrong.

They are the lessons we understand that we should learn and implement, but we just can't seem to find it in ourselves to empty our cup to leave room for those said lessons because we are too afraid of the unpredictable and different.

That is what makes these characters important. That's what makes these characters human.

That's what makes these characters so difficult to understand. And that's why I love them.

[aratribow]

Bp icon chef mydei my beloved..

[aventurineswife]

aventurine, sunday, and any others when reader pretends to not remember them after a bad injury hehe…[angst with fluff at the end] i love giving my poor babies heart attacks mwahaha

anyways love u and ur writings btw k byeee drink water ok byeee 💕✨

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff, Light Humor Angst to Fluff, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Reassurance.

Warnings: Emotional distress (brief moments of fear and confusion).

A/N: thanks for the reminder, anon! 😪😮‍💨I really need to drink some water

Aventurine's eyes widened, his usual playful smirk faltering as you looked at him, confusion clouding your gaze. He reached out, as though instinctively wanting to close the distance between you, but he hesitated. Your words cut through the air, soft and fragile.

"You… you are… who exactly?"

The words stung more than he expected. His heart raced in his chest as he observed the faint, distant look in your eyes. He had always been in control of the game, masterful in reading people, but this? This was a blow to his carefully constructed facade.

"You don’t remember me?" His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping as his pulse quickened.

You shook your head, an empty feeling creeping into your chest. "I don’t think so. Sorry… am I supposed to?"

Aventurine's smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something raw beneath his cool exterior. Pain. Fear. He stepped back slightly, trying to hide the cracks forming in his walls.

"I suppose I’ve miscalculated…" he muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

But then, you reached out and touched his arm gently.

"I—"

Aventurine looked at you, his breath catching in his throat as you softly smiled. "I do remember you, though. Maybe I was just… testing you?"

The game was on again, but this time, it was different. He chuckled, a soft, relieved sound that made the weight of his worries lift just a little.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone, though there was an underlying tenderness now.

You smiled. "I think I’ll keep you on your toes."

And with that, the shadows of doubt lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence—one he could no longer imagine being without.

Sunday stood there, his eyes darkened with a mix of concern and confusion, staring at you as if you were a stranger. His fingers twitched slightly, an impulse to reach out, to make sure you were real, that you hadn’t slipped into some other world.

"You… you don’t recognize me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, fragile under the weight of his own disbelief.

You blinked at him, the blank look in your eyes unnerving him more than he cared to admit. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I do. Are we… close?"

The air between you seemed to freeze, thick with unspoken emotions. His mind was racing—how could you forget him, forget everything you had shared? The kindness, the warmth, the bond he’d built so carefully with you...

"I see," Sunday murmured, his gaze softening with a hint of sadness. "I suppose it’s a part of the dream, isn't it? To forget… to lose everything."

You could see the strain in his expression, the hope fading from his eyes. "Sunday, I… I didn’t mean to forget you."

You reached for him, your hand trembling as you touched his sleeve. The contact seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and his breath caught.

A moment of stillness.

Then Sunday smiled faintly, the sadness still lingering. "I suppose we’ll just have to make you remember, won't we?" His voice was gentle, though you could hear the underlying fear in it.

You smiled, this time with a reassurance he needed. "I think I already do."

A sigh escaped him, a soft, grateful breath as he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." he murmured into your hair, holding you close.

Ratio’s usual air of unshakable confidence was nowhere to be seen. He stood before you, his eyes wide with confusion and an almost frantic edge to his movements.

"You—don’t remember me?" he repeated, his voice betraying a crack he hadn’t expected.

You stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of the world around you, the details of his appearance leaving you more unsettled than anything. "I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you."

His frown deepened, his expression unreadable but filled with something you couldn't quite place—was it hurt? Disbelief?

"I see. This is… unfortunate," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with something that didn’t fit. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. "I expected better from your memory."

You looked at him more closely, sensing a vulnerability underneath the sharpness of his demeanor. He was, despite his intellectual brilliance, losing himself in this.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his, gently catching his wrist. "I’m sorry… but I’m sure we’ve met before. I just—"

He paused, his sharp breath catching in his throat as he looked down at your hand on his. For a brief moment, his composure cracked, and you could see the raw emotion behind his usually controlled facade.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear. "You must remember."

You smiled softly, understanding now. "I remember. You’re the one who always insists on teaching me things."

His gaze softened instantly, a relieved exhale leaving him. "Good."

Ratio’s usual brilliance returned, but this time, there was something gentler about him. "Perhaps next time, try not to lose your memory so easily."

And though his words were sharp, his hand reached out to take yours, a reassurance that you were not lost to him.

Me lmaoo

[sl1merr]

you'd have to surgically remove his fingers from inside of me btw

[saetiate]

thinking about yingxing who loves reader so much but he's a short life species and you're a vidyadhara and he is so aware that kind of love is almost impossible, that even if requited only causes pain for both parties, that he has a war to win with the abundance and he cannot (should not) falter. so he lets it go and hopes she finds a happiness even greater than the one he can give.

and then he becomes blade. he becomes blade and he still loves you, still knows you and it's like hot iron to skin because now he definitely can't have you in his possibly infinite life.

and since that time and now you've been reborn, rebirthed and there's likely no chance you would know him and maybe that's a kind of solace -- to know the impossibility of a circumstance makes it easier to swallow.

but then he runs into you. he's a criminal in xianzhou and he bumps into you and you work for jing yuan and he thinks he might imagine it, might just be his cowardly hope but there's a flash of recognition in your eyes. or maybe it's just from the wanted posters

but regardless of whether you remember or not, you work for jing yuan and so you work with blade and you like him. like him enough to spend time with him and relearn each other and maybe this is what elio means by fated, always meant to happen.

(it calms his mara down too, when the memories of unrequited love become replaced with ones of full, requited, wholehearted love that even he can't deny.)

[lizmidfordsblog]

Not me brainstorming a fic where our Cale gets knocked out or faints idk after spitting out blood again. Everyone thinks (because they’re literally so traumatized from this) it’s gonna go as normal: Cale is going to be unconscious for a few days (maybe weeks), wake up, eat a shit ton of steak, and then promptly drop some batshit crazy lore/new information so that he can immediately go back to work.

A week passes, then two, then three. Cale breaks his record of twenty one days in a coma. Everyone is worried but they try to stay calm, since this

had happened before and the best thing they can do is keep things running in Cale’s absence.

Then Cale wakes up around a month after, with no warning.

He looks around blankly, barely processing the people in front of him nor the baby dragon crying in his lap. He touches his hair for a bit, notes the fantasy setting & and the talking cats.

Then he looks at Choi Han and frowns. He keeps frowning long enough that Alberu steps in and says his signature “my dongsaeng is driving me nuts.”

Cale goes wide-eyed, head whipping towards Alberu.

Then he whispers.

“…The Dark Tiger?”

Alternatively, our Cale gets knocked out of his body. Who else wakes up in his absence but our baby Kim Rok Soo from the Sealed God Test?

Cue chaos.

[cspcrashing]

bleach au in which mydei is phainon's zanpakuto but they both live in oblivious bliss (+ a written snippet of what they were like before it all went to shit)

[notarakhae]

I just can't stop thinking about them

[reoflections]

“my hole hurts.”

“what do you mean, your hole hurts?”

“my hole hurts. I’ll get my period soon.”

“and what should I do now?”

“slap me.”

“where?”

“in my face-“

*fucks you instead*

- Itoshi Sae (aged up), ITOSHI RIN (aged up), Jing Yuan, Blade, Aventurine

[hopefulceladon]

︶⊹ o deliverer, grant yourself rest | phainon x reader

summary: because every chrysos heir has their flaw, including—and especially—the one they've so proudly heralded as the 'flawless one'. but it's okay, because he has you to pick up the pieces, doesn't he? notes: brief discussions of nightmares and a pitiful written attempt at the grounding technique ahead... give this man a hug. word count: 3.2k ao3 link: here!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ⋆ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It started with a whimper; one soft enough to barely be distinct, but discernible enough to any hyperactive senses.

Rather naturally, the disruption had stirred you awake from your restless slumber; you and Phainon had been assigned by Aglaea to stand guard amongst a temporary lodging post somewhere by yourselves within Amphoreus, after all, and being solely the inexperienced, non-prophetic healer of the equation had, rather unsurprisingly, flung you into a constant state of high alert.

After a moment’s breath, you forced yourself to recall one of Tribbie’s various words of advice upon stress on an already weary body; the specific lesson that ‘too much pressure upon a fragile constitution would inevitably permit it to shatter like glass’ came to mind, and, thus, proved that falling to the whims of insomnia and arising any sorts of emergency in the morning was out of the question.

Regardless of whatever your fears rushed you into believing, you reasoned it was far more likely to be a mere noisy critter, running about outside the premises of the cabin.

With those hastily-woven reassurances in mind, you fussed with the pitifully thin blanket that was draped over your reclining form, readjusting and repositioning the little warmth it had retained from your body heat along with it, before tucking your knees close to your chest in hopes that sleep would find you once more.

Briefly, you wondered if you would've been better off stealing the singular bed away from the sleeping Heir next door, leaving him to suffer with the lumpy, hard and unwelcoming kline—

The dreadful noise returned.

It was slightly louder this time, had lasted for a few seconds longer, and was most certainly being carried off from the same point of origin that was not, in fact, the vast outdoors.

In response to your abrupt realization, your hand had quickly slid down to where you had placed the dagger you had acquired from the Goldweaver in case of catastrophe.

The nearby clamor had died down just as swiftly as it arose.

Still, you clasped upon the handle of the weapon and held it taut against your palm, your fingers nearly itching, trembling, for the chance to act the moment the sound returned.

And it did return, seconds later, and far less undistinguishable than its predecessors, as it, for once, decided to take mercy upon your senses and present itself in a far-too-familiar fashion.

It was hardly any sorts of frolicking creature whimpering; you could tell that it was the sound of a human being stifling their remorse, holding back their anguished cries through the pursing of their lips, the gnashing of their teeth.

Someone was having a nightmare, and you didn't even need to lift your head up to know that the source had always ever been Phainon’s makeshift room.

But how was that so? Your dearest friend—no, the Chrysos Heir, had always seemed so strong, so perfect —strong enough to carry the burdens of Amphoreus' grand prophecy upon his shoulders, perfect enough for the other heirs and his friends alike to be able to consistently depend upon him—to the point that you believed that his sole biggest flaw, if he were capable of possessing any at all, was that he endlessly snored at night.

But perhaps, that was it? Was it the unwavering hope that nearly everyone held in him, as if they had cast aside even the mere notion that he could, in fact, be as flawed as the rest of them, that had weighed him down far more than he had ever let on?

You didn’t bother to ponder anything further as you heard another quietly smothered sound.

Even as the fatigue in your bones waged a war against the resolve within your heart, you lifted yourself away from the pitiful mishmash of materials you called your bedding, and didn't hesitate to linger a few mere footsteps away from where Phainon resided.

With a gentle rap of your knuckles against the wooden surface of a nearby wall, you called his name softly, as if approaching an anxious animal prone to startling.

“Phainon?”

You didn’t dare to peek in.

Instead, you waited through a series of noises, starting off with a startled hitch in Phainon’s breathing, followed up by him rustling the sheets as he sat upright, then finished off with him clearing his throat before he finally spoke.

“Mm,” he hummed groggily. You weakly smiled as he tried once more to clear the lull of sleep from his voice. “What is it?”

Suddenly struck frozen and without a natural beginning to such an intrusive conversation, you quickly feigned ignorance as you remained unseen. “Did you also hear that noise?”

“Huh? I...” An awkward chuckle was all you needed to deduce that Phainon, too, was dancing around the topic. “What noise? Ah, wait, don't tell me you're growing afraid of the sound of nature-”

“It came from your room, Phainon.”

There was silence for one beat, and a shaky breath in the next.

“Oh, come now, my friend,” Phainon began with a laugh you knew to be forced. “You really do fret too much. Perhaps your soul is so attuned to animals that you’re now hearing them from far away?”

Irked by Phainon’s refusal to acknowledge the situation, you revealed yourself by standing in the middle of the doorframe, greeted by a sight that was both all you expected to witness and everything you had feared at once.

Phainon was perched upright on the bed, his fluffy white hair tousled—likely from the combined efforts of thrashing his body in his sleep and running a distressed hand through the tufts whenever he briefly awoke—and his pale skin was flushed atop his still heaving chest, shivering from the cold that crept through his veins, yet shimmering from the sweat that anxiously clung to him like a festering vice.

“Did you... have a nightmare?” you finally dared to ask.

He did not dare to answer.

Instead, Phainon had looked off into the distance, his eyes appearing blearier with every slow, cautious step you took towards the bed.

“I’m...” A deep breath. “I’m fine, my friend.” he tried to reassure you through still-wavering breaths, almost as if he believed it weren't obvious that he was avoiding your worried gaze like the plague itself.

Carefully, you sat yourself down at the edge of the bed, your eyes, crinkled with concern, still fixed upon him. “You can’t even look me in the eye and properly lie, can you?”

Phainon let a weary, nearly amused breath slip past his lips as he forced his voice to steady itself. “You’re right.”

As his baby blue eyes glanced up at you, so unexpectantly soft as they met your own, full of all sorts of promises that not even him, even in all his heroic bravado—flawless on the surface as it may seem—could ever hope to wholly fulfill, you briefly pondered if the warmth his gaze brought forth was part of the reason why everyone was so quick to thrust their faith upon him nonetheless.

Suddenly, his hands grasped your shoulders, and he lightly shook you.

Or, what Phainon considered as ‘light’, anyways.

“I’m okay, you hear me?”

You were quick to snap out of whatever twisted stupor his pleading had trapped you in, slowly pushing his hands away with a fond smile. Endearing as he had appeared, his boyish whims would’ve worked far better if you were still as ignorant to the truth as everyone else in Okhema seemed to be.

Still, you couldn't ever deny yourself the chance to endure the insufferable miseries of the ever-present ache he always encouraged to endlessly burn in your chest.

“If you’re really okay, then why are you still glistening with sweat?”

“Ha-ah?” Phainon let out a mock gasp, covering up the full expanse of his muscular chest with his blanket, resting it just above his collarbone in a faux show of flustered modesty. “And... why are you looking?”

You could tell he was trying his best to lighten the mood, to distract you away from the issue at hand, and in a brief lapse of judgment, you allowed him to do so.

Which was the only reason why you allowed a soft giggle to escape you as you shook your head, you were sure.

Still, you were stubborn, unwavering in your resolve to get him to open up.

“You know you can tell me if you had one, right?” you prompted softly. “Besides, Lady Aglaea paired us up because she believes we tell one another nearly everything, so...?”

Your voice trailed off once you recognized the heavy dread that seemed to abruptly wash over Phainon’s features.

Something in your words must've snapped the last thread of what had lingered of his fraying composure, given the sight of his hand, which now trembled as it flexed inward and outward.

“Uh, right, her.” he swallowed. “I...”

The waver in his voice made your heart ache.

You had recognized the faltering; it was a familiar, broken pitch and the byproduct of the very thing that always haunted you at your weakest moments, now plaguing the very friend you believed to always be above such a treacherous foe.

“Phainon,” you uttered his name, desperate to intervene before it spiraled worse. “Name five things you can see.”

Phainon’s head had, as he remained in a far-off daze, tilted to the side, before realization dawned upon him and brought him back to at least the surface levels of reality.

“Y-You really believe me to be having a panic attack? Right now?” he asked with a disbelieving, strained chuckle. “Ha! My friend, you have no reason to worry! I... I don't get-”

“Five things, Phainon.”

“Oh, fine," he said in a huff, a pout overdramatically puffing out his bottom lip, before he took a deep, grounding breath. “I see the curtains, the floor beneath my feet, the bed I lounge upon, the blanket I am absolutely not clutching in my hands, and,” he paused, glancing up at you before looking away. “...the face of someone who's incessantly worrying about me for absolutely no good reason~”

You scrunched your brows together, cringing at the singsong tone he had forced out from his lips, but nevertheless, you persisted.

“Four things you can touch?”

As if on cue, Phainon’s hand, slightly trembling as it was, started to carefully feel and trace around his surroundings, starting from the top of his clothed kneecap. “I... I feel the cold material of my nightwear,” he began, before his hand slipped down towards his exposed skin. “The clamminess of my leg—gross. Do I really need to bathe that bad?”

The question, followed up by the playful sparkle that shimmered in his eyes as he looked up at you through his long lashes, nearly made you break.

You just hoped this was a sign he was snapping away from anxiety’s vicious grasp.

Seeing that you didn’t openly smile at his quip, despite his best efforts, Phainon’s expression fell, and his shoulders had stiffened as if he were disappointed, but still, he continued his list.

“I feel the cotton blanket beneath my fingertips, and,” his hand snuck to rest atop yours, his sweaty palm splayed over your knuckles. He waited for the physical recoil he had nearly expected to occur, before interlacing your fingers together by their delicate webbings in light of your stillness. “...a reassuring hand that always has my back.”

Your heart warmed considerably.

“Okay... three things you can hear?”

“I hear the chirping birds outside,” Phainon took another breath before he continued. “And, well, I always hear the ticking of the nearest clock. That dastardly mechanism must really think it’s calming enough to lull anyone to sleep, huh?” he chuckled weakly. “I also, finally, hear the nagging of a concerned friend.”

“Nagging?” you repeated.

Finally, you visibly witnessed the full colors of wonderful, radiant life seeping back into Phainon’s skin, refreshing his features as his smile only grew once he cheekily met your gaze.

You swore to yourself in that very moment that you never wished to see him stricken with any sort of pallor ever again.

“Nagging.” he confirmed with a nod. “You need to lay off the harassment! My head is just so weary, you know. From all those nightmares you accuse me of having.”

“Then... you need to stop associating me with all of your senses!” you huffed, unable to resist cracking a giggle at his latter remarks. “I do truly fear what the next two things you can smell are.”

“Well, I smell the fresh rain wafting into our humble little loft, and...” Phainon paused, leaning in for dramatic effect. “...I smell the scent of your bathing soap. It’s faint, but it’s there.” he took a breath. “What do you use again? Honey-”

“Okay, you’re fine now, I get it!” you gently shove him back with a laugh, your shoulders, so bristled with worry from the moments prior, finally relaxing at the new brush of levity.

Phainon let a soft ‘oomph’ slip out in response to the impact, but he effortlessly recomposed himself. “So, am I free from facing any sort of uncomfortable interrogations?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a shake of your head. “I think it’s too late to deny the nightmares, but... you haven't told me what they were of.”

You watched as Phainon visibly tensed, and you nearly thought to drop the subject, but he spoke before you could suggest otherwise.

“Plenty of dreams in Aedes Elysiae, followed up by the calamities wreaked upon it by the Black Tide,” he closed his eyes, sighing. “...and then those nightmares would turn to dreams regarding the Flame-Chase Journey...”

“And those would end up pleasant?” you inquired quietly, even if you already feared you knew the answer.

Phainon let out a chuckle, one brimming with bitterness and remorse, before shaking his head. “Even better than ‘pleasant’,” he remarked dryly. “Sometimes, the nightmares that follow get so detailed, that I get to watch my friends perish right before my very eyes, one after the other, until I’m the sole Heir standing.”

“Phainon, I... I’m so sorry...” you whispered.

“It’s alright," he quickly reassured. Absentmindedly, his hand sought yours, and, rather willingly, you gave it to him. “If... if I’m being honest, I think one of the absolute worst nightmares I have are the ones involving you.”

You looked up at him, watching wordlessly, helplessly, as your friend’s eyes, the very ones you fell so quietly hard for all those moons ago, began to shimmer with the starting shine of unshed tears.

You wished you could wipe them all away.

“But... I am not an Heir, we both know this,” you protested. “Why would I haunt your nightmares?”

Phainon simply leaned forward and ran his palm down your cheek, his gaze unwavering.

“I think,” he began shakily, his tone light yet oddly self-deprecating. “I must’ve gone wrong somewhere in our friendship, if you don’t currently believe you’re just as important to me as the Heirs, if not even slightly more.”

“Phainon, what-”

“Can’t you see, my dear friend?” he swiftly interrupted, a surprisingly reverent smile upon his lips. “You’ve become a central part of the very world I wish to protect. It’s absolutely no wonder that you haunt both the bitterest of my nightmares, and the sweetest of my dreams.”

You swore you felt your heart leap into your throat, hope flaring awake in your chest that you would’ve never dared to consider stirring if Phainon hadn’t prodded it first.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing I haven’t already avoided telling myself for ages first.”

You had very clearly noticed that Phainon’s eyes had fallen to your lips, watching as he quickly looked away the moment he knew he was caught, as if he were scolding himself for even entertaining the idea.

It made you wonder if you ought to shun yourself in kind, given all the countless times you briefly contemplated placing stolen kisses upon his forehead or cheeks—you were too afraid to count the numerous times you've felt the notion regarding his lips—within the past yourself.

You swallowed thickly.

“If... if this truly means what I believe it to mean,” you said, shakily, fighting off the burning urge to finally unleash the affection you've longed to shower upon him for countless moons. “Then... please, let us not rush-”

Your protests were interrupted by Phainon gently, but oh-so-intently, pulling you closer.

“It doesn't have to feel rushed, you know.”

He brushed the tip of his nose against yours as he waited, begging for your consent with nothing more than his all-too-lethal pair of pleading, puppy-like eyes.

And, oh, it didn’t take you long at all to decide your answer at all.

Briefly did his soft lips brush against the likes of yours, his hands gently grasping your shoulders for support, as if he believed you wouldn't be whisked away by either the cruel hands of fate or his own heartless imagination if he just had something tangible to anchor himself to.

And you kissed him back with just as much love and reverence, your fingers tangling themselves within his soft tufts of hair as the shared display of affection deepened, before you both agreed to part.

Phainon pressed his forehead to yours as he caught his breath.

“...mostly because in my eyes, I think every moment I get to spend with you is special enough to deserve a kiss.” he murmured against your lips, before pulling himself away with a dopey, lovesick grin.

You let out a disbelieving chuckle underneath your breath. “You’re utterly hopeless.”

“Hey, bearing that title is worth it, if it means I can be utterly yours, too.”

Somehow, even the cheesiest of words sounded natural whenever they flowed from Phainon’s lips, as if he championed such flowery, wince-worthy language with as great of sincerity as a lovesick poet.

Still, you remained deeply concerned about his habitual nightmares.

“Will you be alright, sleeping by yourself tonight, or do you want company?”

You regretted the specific arrangement of words the moments you had let them free.

“Oh?” Phainon arched a surprised eyebrow, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You really want to sleep next to me, when I’m already half-bared and vulnerable?”

Your pointed—albeit flustered—glare, however, quickly set him straight.

“Okay, okay! You’re right, that was an awful attempt at a joke...” Phainon trailed off into a small fit of chuckles, reaching for the pajama top he had discarded hours ago in a sweaty haze, slipping it over his head to protect himself from the sudden chill, before lifting the covers up and patting the spot next to him in the bed.

“C’mere?”

And willingly, you obliged, settling alongside him on the bed that was perhaps far too small for two. It was no matter, however; you had already made it a point to snuggle yourself closer.

Phainon buried his head against you, his breathing, once troubled by tremors and countless other woes hours prior, was now a quiet, rhythmic tune, akin to the steady beating of his fluttering heart.   He was at peace now, and so were you.

Because, perhaps in the eyes of all the Heirs, Phainon may be their prophesized ‘Deliverer’, but amongst the knowledge of intimate few, you would be his perfect rest.

“I’ll always do all that I can to make sure you feel safe in this world.” he whispered against your form, his hand tracing idle circles against you. “Please, believe that, okay?”

“I do, I promise.”

It really was only fair you inherited such a role, after all.

[manytoonepoet]

"Never let me go." Oh, I could never. For all I've done since I've met you was cling onto your presence ever so desperately and hoped that you could, so much so, spare me a glance.

[asteropewpew]

anaxa makes me tear up sometimes. he loves. he loves SO MUCH to the point of creation. to commit so many sacrifices and maximize his entire utility up until the end, it's as ruthless as it was priceless like love is.

maybe that's why cerces kept reminding him of "how wonderful it is to be alive." what must it look like to cerces to see this foolish child of humanity with ambitions that threatened to smother the already dying embers of life, who reminded her so much of mnestia? the titan that offered her rawest beating heart suffused with the memories and imprints of love born from humans upon cerces' tree, in hopes that she can see the depths of just how much mnestia loves her in all her entirety?

he's so full love. if not. the reason why creation ever existed at all. maybe cerces brought him back to life not just for his ideals, but because mnestia would have also done the same, to snatch him back from the jaws of death. an act of defiance, born from the purest of love.

for someone that claimed to have lost everything, he had so much love left to give