#barely even scraping the first tiny bit of Koalemos’ life

[mujinayokai]

First Impressions

you take mydei and phainon on a rest day to the chrysos heirs baths. no, you aren’t a chrysos heir. of course you didn’t just want an excuse to go to their private baths! phainon then caused a whole thing by asking the two about their first impressions of him

mydei x phainon x reader (can be read as platonic, but now that I think about it is platonic so read it as platonic for now until they get freaky deeky 🤑🤑)

wc: 2014 goated year btw

cw: malnutrition, homelessness (???), racism, readers life lowkey just fucking sucks, reader is called jester and Koalemos instead of y/* as a pseudonym but has a real name that I will not name because it’s up to the reader #blessthefreakup

Phainon came to you first.

You still remember the way he nervously walked up to you, sitting in a library chair, and reading a book that he used to read when he was younger.

It is so vivid in your mind— the way he sat down, how he shifted ever so slightly in his seat (nervous but eager), to the way you looked at him and smiled politely. You remember thinking he’d make fun of you. Do the other students know that you aren’t up to par on your reading skills despite not being a child anymore? You scooted away—

“I’m— sorry, you believed I sought you out only to mock you?” The ivory haired man asks, leaning forward in the bathwater.

You shrug, smiling. “If I had been reading a children’s book so slowly I would probably tease myself too.” You carefully begin to lift your glass from the wooden tray that floats atop the warm bathwater. The fruit that was recommended to you by Mydeimos was a good decision! Aged pineapple is an incredibly refreshing addition to your drink. It isn’t too sweet, and it isn’t too rancid. It’s just right.

Mydeimos looks away from you. You wonder if such a conversation is too boring to his liking.

Phainon shakes his head with a confident expression, smiling. He raises his leg atop the stone edge of the waterlogged seats of the bathpool, bringing his elbow up to rest on his knee. He has nice arms. You don’t mean it in a strange way, by any means. The plump of his biceps fit him, and he is quite bulky now that you’ve seen him without so much clothing.

“I wouldn’t make fun of anyone for reading children’s books. They are quite fun to reminisce on, actually. I do feel sorry that your first impression of me was to assume that I attempted to taunt you.” His head lowers in something short of a bow. Does he truly feel guilty for something that isn’t his fault? After all, it is as he said. You assumed that he’d be like the other arrogant students from The Grove.

Or— well, perhaps not arrogant. Just… confident. After all, you will never reach their level of education. Why shouldn’t they boast? They have a bragging right, after all.

“No need for apologies! That was only my first impression of you. After I met you, I thought you were very kind,” You lean back into the cold, stone edge of the bath, “However! I’m quite interested in your first impression of the Deliverer, Prince Mydeimos.”

Mydeimos turns back to you and Phainon. “I thought that he was very determined. Something about him reminded me of another friend.”

“Aww… well, you’ll have to give us more than that, now!” You prod, smiling cheekily.

Mydeimos crosses his arms, his brow perking up. “Need I say more? The deliverer has proven to be a formidable fighter, and shows promise along with great skill. However, at times, he can be quite… audacious.”

Phainon tilts his head, scratching the side of his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He means to say,” you clear your throat, voice dropping low. And after a moment, “‘You are crazy, Deliverer.’”

Phainon huffs a laugh through his nose. Mydeimos scoffs, looking away in jesting disgust. “And you, Jester, are nosy and impertinent.”

Your brows raise to your hairline, jaw dropping in faux-offense. “Wha?! Oh, Prince, you surely have mistaken me for a different person!”

Mydeimos is not amused. His lips press into a thin line as he stares at you with unimpressed eyes. “Shall I remind you, including our audience, of our first meeting?”

You sigh, dramatically huffing a deep breath out. “I was quite intelligent.”

“No, you were not,” he retorts.

“Must you be such a downer?”

“There is no word for—“

You and Phainon collectively groan. You lean back once more, staring at the ceiling. “Do Kremnoans speak at all? I’m beginning to believe that the Kremnoan language is void of any vocabulary.”

Mydei grunts before he begins to recount the tale of your first encounter. Slowly, you find your muscles (oddly) relaxing at the gruff of his voice. And by the looks of it, your fellow audience member is enjoying the narration as well. Phainon sighs as he sinks his shoulders deeper into the warm water.

There were two women. You remember this also, despite your confusion at the time of the past situation. You had just come from a checkup appointment with a doctor, walking through the streets of Okhema feeling downcast with your diagnosis.

You were fed regularly as a child. In the kingdom of Aphros, you did not need to question where your next meal came from. When you fled from your home, the palace, you were forced to survive. No full meals, just a dish per day kept you from crippling starvation.

Slowly, in your adulthood, you’d grow healthier. You’d eat more, at least two meals per day.

So, when a doctor, whom you’ve never met, tells you confidently that you show signs of previously suffering from malnourishment, you are stunned. The doctor urges you to drink plenty of water, and even writes down a list of foods you should eat regularly. You cannot read as is, but this handwriting appears to be something other than the common language.

You trudge through the city, back to your home with the Troupe who are also your coworkers, your friends, your family. The reason you are able to eat everyday, and the reason you are surviving. In a corner of the city, a screaming match and laughter attracts you to look from your sandals up to the laughing crowd.

Naturally, you approach the crowd, pushing toward the front. There are two women who are screaming at each other. One is a woman dressed in tattered clothing with crimson sashes donning her torso. The red clothed people have been popping up more frequently in Okhema. It’s a nice addition, actually, compared to the abundance of blue and purple colors that fill the city.

The other woman, you also have not seen before. She is carrying a baby, wrapped in a blanket. The child is wailing and it just about pierces your ears. She is very blatantly from Okhema. Her head is carried high with arrogance, and she shields the baby from the other woman.

A city guard in the crowd holds your shoulder. They are hunched over in laughter. “Ah, Koalemos! The foolish Kremnoan believes that child is her own, the old crone,” he laughs.

You had forgotten that you are a well-known entertainer amongst the city.

“Is that so?” You pout slightly, wiping it away within seconds.

The crowd slowly begins to urge you forward, to make light of the situation.

You hesitantly step between the two women.

“Why do you two quarrel over something so foolish?” You question, holding your arms out as the old woman lunges toward the other. The city-woman grows quiet while the woman in red still yells angrily, attempting to go around you to meet the Okheman woman's eyes.

“The foolish hag thinks my baby is hers! The Kremnoans are true to the stories, they are vile and insane! Shame on Kremnos!”

You look toward the Kremnoan woman. Her eyes are flooded with tears, and you can now see clearly that she is only halfway to being elderly. Her brows are furrowed in fear and anger, and there is dirt scuffed near her cheeks. She looks toward you with disdain and desperation, and you feel guilt rouse in your stomach as a sharp feeling.

She has the same wrinkles around her mouth as your mother. Not that you’d ever seen her. Only in the painting that hung high in the courtyard of the palace. You still remember Sophias, who, at the time, was with you as your handmaiden. She would smile at the portrait of the Queen. Your mother. She always mentioned that you resemble her likeness. You can’t seem to remember what the painting even looked like.

“Bring me your sword,” you nod to the guard. You have realized who the child belongs to, by now.

The guard brings unto you his sword, unsheathed. He looks at you with nervous eyes. How shameful, to look at you like that when not only he, but the crowd, torment this old woman? All because she is Kremnoan? If only they knew whom you came from.

The old woman stares at you with wide eyes, silently crying. The other smiles confidently.

“This child will be divided in two,” you announce to the crowd. “The severed body will be distributed between the women!”

The old woman cries. She begs you to give the child to the fair lady. The woman grasps your wrists, and you drop the blade, however, she herds no mind to the fact that the sharp edge could’ve easily hurt either of you.

On the contrary, the city woman holds the baby out toward you. “So it shall be! Give me this half, and give her the torso-up.” The crowd laughs again.

You are positively disgusted.

You take the old woman’s hands to the baby, slowly pushing it close to her body. “Please, be safe, Miss.” you whisper, ushering the woman away.

Phainon baffles. “What a… interesting solution.”

“Your first impression of me, then?” You lean toward the Prince, who leans away in turn. Phainon chuckles.

Mydei thinks for a moment. You expect the usual. He’ll say something like: Hmm. Foolish. Or maybe something in Kremnoan, that he will later tell you means, ‘deluded’ or ‘crazy’.

“Okay.”

…

Huh? Okay?

As if he can see the confusion in your head, he shrugs. “You are okay. I occasionally- no, often think you’re foolish. However…” he looks up, trying to find what he’s trying to say. “In the moment, I was relieved that you handled the situation without showing prejudice toward Kremnos and its people.” He doesn’t mention the sadness he’d seen in your eyes, when he recognized that you might’ve felt connected to the woman. He knows that feeling. He sees his mother in so many places, yet, will never have the chance to get to know her personally.

You smile. “If I’m being honest, I wasn’t aware she was Kremnoan. I thought half the city decided to wear red for an Okheman holiday.”

Phainon shakes his head. “Do you pretend to be so dense?”

“Excuse me, I think I am highly intelligent.”

“Spell intelligent.”

You open your mouth, ready to spell. Until you close your mouth and slouch into a hunch.

Phainon looks at you expectantly. It might be easy if you can sound it out in your head. Intelligent. Intelligent. Intelligent.

“I-N-T,” You try.

“Uh-huh…?”

“Intelligent, I-N-T…E-L-I-G-I-N-T.”

Phainon barks out a laugh. His shoulders bounce with laughter. His eyes crinkle when he laughs, which is unfortunate, because his eyes are beautiful. They are azure, and if you look closely, they are also gold.

You smile, standing as you splash water toward the Deliverer. “Hey! I’m right, aren’t I?”

Mydeimos watches you two splash each other with water, amused.

He forgot to mention the part where, after a quick (that’s a lie, you do not know how to text) message sent to Aglaea through your newly gifted teleslate, you both sat with the old woman, who insisted that you hold her baby. Which is incredibly unwise, considering that, not even a moment ago, you had been suggesting to sever the said baby in half.

He forgot to mention the fondness and love that filled your eyes when the baby, cradled firmly and carefully in your arms, begins to smile and laugh at you once you take the theater mask off your face. You refused to scare the child, and so you took it off.

He forgot to mention that his first impression of you was that— gods you are foolish to keep that raggedy theater mask on.

He forgot to mention that he thought you were gorgeous.

Oh well. There’s no word for gorgeous in the Kremnoan language.

i have notes on my ao3. I lowkey don’t know how to use tumblr so pls forgive me

thank u for reading