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riddlemearose · 7 months ago

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Phoning a Friend

Warriors watches the two Champions blearily, forcing his eyes to stay focused on them. He knows one is the Shadow but he can’t let himself entertain the possibilities of who the other one is. For now, he has to think of it nothing more than another potential enemy.

The one with the odd spear that gleams gold, its green gem ornaments clinking softly against the shaft as he twirls it, keeps himself between Warriors and the twisted Champion. The golden spear spins and spins, batting away a sickening dark blade every time the bloodstained, withered Champion tries to break through his guard.

Watching the spinning spear is actually making Warriors feel nauseous. Well, he mentally amends that to ‘more nauseous’, glancing down at the blood spreading across his tunic.

And this weird noise, whatever it is, isn’t helping! There’s something heavy weighing the clearing down, pressing into Warriors’ skin.

All he can hear is this pulsing loud tick tick tick in his ears, accompanied by an odd warping sensation in his limbs.

It’s magic, he knows that much, but he’s never felt it before and has no idea which Champion it may be coming from, if it even is either of them casting the spell.

He turns his head to spit out a mouthful of blood and it feels like the movement takes an eternity to complete.

So either his blood loss is more severe than he thought, or there’s something else going on.

The spear-wielding Champion darts backwards, his grip along the spear finally shifting into a proper stance, grinning wildly.

Ha, Warriors is hilarious.

A large shining gem sitting at the dip of the first Champion's throat lights his face up from below, all deep shadows and softened edges. He’s breathing heavily, a slight tremble visible in his fingers as he readjusts his grip.

The other Champion across from them makes a sweeping gesture with its withered arm and something red and alive spurs into life, lunging forward. The shape twists, absorbing what remains of the rotted flesh, and large, monstrous fingers stretch into existence. They reach through the darkness for the first Champion, wicked under the moonlight.

The first Champion raises the spear slightly in response, his grin vanishing as it's smothered under a blank, smooth expression that Warriors refuses to recognise. The fingers, the vile magic, get closer to his face, closing the distance rapidly—

And Time shoots out of the bushes, the Biggoron sword catching the moonlight as it arcs through the air and severs the arm from withered Champion's body. The arm hits the ground and melts into a writhing pool of furious magic, thrashing around that Champion’s feet.

The ticking in Warriors’ ears stops so abruptly he's thrown off-kilter, reeling at the sudden silence left in its wake.

Time glances at him, a quick look filled with concern and worry, then shifts his gaze to the spear-wielding Champion — Wild, Warriors lets himself finally acknowledge.

Dozens of micro-expressions fly rapidly across Time's face before he finally decides on grim determination.

“That,” he says in an almost wobbly tone of voice, taking up stance next to Wild, “is loud.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told. Sorry about that.” Wild agrees, still focused on the withered copy of himself standing in front of them. He shoots Time a small grin, barely there but blindingly obvious if you know what to look for. “Worked though.”

Time lets out a quiet huff of laughter, his own small smile twitching across his face. He shifts, sword held tightly in both hands. "You're definitely not wrong about that, Wild. When we get back to camp, you'll have to tell me how you managed to make your magic even louder than it already was."

#lu warriors #lu wild #lu time #linked universe #riddel's fics #Wild post-totk going through a portal and finding Warriors half dead: don't worry I've got this #Wild: *floods the entire forest with his secret stone amplified magic*#Time instantly from like 1 km away: HELP IS ON THE WAY!!!#this is called Wild uses his patented Time Summoning Method in my docs lmao #im ride or die by my headcanon that pre-totk Time was the only one who could sense Wild's champion ability bc it's time magic #he used that sense like a homing beacon whenever Wild got separated from them bc Wild always inevitably ended up fighting something #Dink absolutely used Wild's nearly-dead appearance from the start of totk to screw with the Chain you can catch these hands #tfw you want to write but nothing over 800 words apparently wants to exist rude #tw: blood #linked universe fanfic #linked universe fic #Wars is fine btw #he got ambushed by 3 of Sky's moblins then caught a face full of gloom thanks to Dink #over 12 hours after posting this I realised at some point I'd accidentally deleted the last two tags 😭

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oldxenomorph · 1 month ago

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TAGHANIC

characters: nyx, melinoë, and reaper!nemesis warnings: none, surprisingly. notes: this was originally a one-word prompt submitted by @cthoniccompanion but i accidentally deleted the ask 😞 the prompt was "ephemeral and/or eternal." summary: the ziggurat opens for the first time to let melinoë in, nyx watches her while nemesis's body and consciousness is occupied.

The mention of an extinction event causes Melinoë to tense up a little. She takes another sip from the teacup. The liquid is special, made with a substance that will allow the chthonic goddess to acclimate to the insides of the Ziggurat safely. It is a reminder that this place is neither the House of Hades nor the Crossroads. It is alive and violent. It hates things that do not belong within it. It hates things that are not of the Emperor’s or the Great Family’s blood. It hates things that are not Nyx or Nemesis. It hates everything that the Emperor hates, it loves everything that the Emperor loves.

It tolerates Melinoë.

A Machine-Sister’s clear cybernetic hands carefully tilts the angular teapot to pour a strange, hot liquid into a teacup. Steam tinged with a faint blue glow rises, the liquid providing a source, a point, of heat in the cold, vast room.

Nyx reclines on a klinai and playfully caresses the face of the nymph in her lap, a slender finger tracing the biomechanical structure of her cheeks, following curvature of her jaw. Black and violet darkness veils most of her form, the folds of her peplos and contour of her body outlined by the turquoise glow of the wall of tanks. The nymph and her sisters that surround the Night Incarnate are fixated on the black dicranurus trilobites that swim by. Ancient cousins, they move away from the ones that have gotten too close to the glass with a quickness, an anxiousness.

Her attention turns from her daughter to the space across from her, to the Machine-Sister that presents Melinoë with the tea cup and matching saucer. The machine-woman smiles enigmatically when the chthonic princess thanks her.

For the past hour, Melinoë has dutifully sat on the bench of webbed black resin. The furnature pulled like flesh, manipulated to be part of a seating arrangement of many such benches across from Nyx’s klinai made from that same material, permanently affixed to the floor of the room. She has is not as restless as her elder brother. Several millennia have passed since that time of crisis, the princess has matured into yet retains a youthfulness in her face and form. Her ghostly glow of her missing arm is the only other source of light, aside from the tanks in the walls. The darkness of the Ziggurat dulls the orange-red glow of her fire-lick laurels and feet.

Another nymph jumps up onto Nyx’s lap making the other nymph move aside to create more space, resulting in an irritated hiss. She ignores her sister, instead melding into the presence of the Night Herself, standing upright, seeking attention with a series of clicking sounds the end with a sweet chitter. With a smile, Nyx begins to gently touches her little face, placing a soft kiss on her eyeless forehead.

“I wanted to thank you again for letting me into your and the Emperor’s domain, Lady Nyx.” Melinoë’s voice draws Nyx’s attention away from the nymph, resulting a slightly displeased sound from the little daughter. “I never expected to step foot into this place. Nemesis has told me so much about it.”

“It is Nemesis whom you should thank, O champion mine,” Nyx replies, “Without her, the Emperor nor the Ziggurat would have allowed you inside.”

Melinoë lets out a soft, nervous laugh, flustered that the Night Herself still refers to her by that title. Nyx does not wear her impassive mask within this domain that is her home; her violet painted lips form a soft smile at the young goddess, her starlight eyes not as harsh as they are in the House of Hades.

“It has been a very long time since the crisis, yet you still call me your champion, Lady Nyx,” Melinoë says, “I’m very honored, but…. Much time has passed, and things have changed.”

“It matters not how long it has been since that night you helped me escape.” Nyx hears the questioning of whether Melinoë is still worthy of such a title in the young goddess’s voice, masked under layers of politeness and deference. Hecate has told her about these feelings the chthonic goddess harbors. “The Emperor also thinks of you as my champion. The title is permanent.”

Nyx has always wondered if the permanent flustered glow Melinoë seems to have in her presence is because she sees Nemesis whenever she looks at her. It amuses the Night Incarnate. Whenever she looks at Nemesis, she sees the Emperor. But she remembers that the young goddess has never seen the face of her wife, of Extinction Itself. Melinoë has only ever seen her veiled in black, the Sign of Extinction distorting any opacity that might reveal her face.

It makes sense that she would see only Nyx in Nemesis.

A nymph sitting amongst her elder drone-sisters tries to catch a trilobite, putting her hand up to the glass and snapping her jaws of metallic teeth. It scares the ancient cousin, causing it to swim away quickly. The sudden activity catches the young goddess’s attention.

“If I may ask, Lady Nyx, what are these creatures?” Melinoë turns her head around over her shoulder, looking at the small black trilobites swimming in the walls. “I have never seen anything like them.”

“Dicranurus trilobites,” Nyx says, “They are beings from 390 million years ago.”

Melinoë mismatched eyes widen slightly as she stares at the ones swimming by. Nyx doesn’t tell her that the only surviving xiphosurans are actually much older, not wanting to instill more existential dread and terror into the young chthonic goddess. To think that the humble horseshoe crab, as humans call them, could terrify a goddess of ghosts and nightmares. She always found it interesting that the children of Hades and Persephone had no issues meeting the originator of their kind, her parent Old Khaos, but reminders of their place in the timeline of the Earth is an insight into madness.

It is a reminder that there is an end to their existence. It puts their short lives in context of greater forces, greater beings and entities that have existed long before them and will continue to exist long after this universe ends. It is the fear the other gods feel in Nyx’s presence.

There will always be the Night at the End of Everything.

“I did not know things on the surface could last that long,” Melinoë remarks, acknowledging the ancientness of the little beings that seem untroubled by all the complexities of organic life.

“Alas, this species is extinct. These are the only ones left, gifted to us from the Sleeper. The rest of their kind died out during the Second Extinction Event.” Nyx remembers each one well. The Emperor — Extinction Itself — was growing into her attribution. She remembers being with her beloved in the Black Palace, held close in her many arms and tentacles as she orchestrated each mass extinction event, each time becoming more powerful and more beautiful.

It tolerates Melinoë.

“In the grand narrative of the universe, you and your family are very young,” the Night says, “The Emperor and I remember when neither the Sun or the Earth existed, when this system was without form and only void.”

She knows that her statement does little to ease the discomfort the young goddess must feel, but it is one that must be said. Within her blood is that from those on the mountaintop, those that shun the oldest entities beneath the earth, those that remain oblivious to what exists beyond their realm of ambrosia and family bickering. Melinoë is far from being like her relatives on the mountaintop, but even so, the children of Hades and Persephone ought to remain cognizant of the context of their existence.

Even her own children needed to be reminded of this fact, like the Moirai when she went to them to revive the newborn Zagreus.

“There are few things that are eternal,” the Night continues, “The Great Family, the Emperor, myself, our daughters.” One of the nymphs has fallen asleep in Nyx’s lap, her small hand clutching the goddess’s slender fingers, her little body curled up into a perfect circle. Some of the ancient cousins float up to the glass to observe her. Her violet lips form a small smile, a tenderness. “Love is eternal. Sustaining, nourishing. The love of soulmates. The love of a parent.”

Melinoë casts her gaze away from the primordial goddess, her mismatched eyes drifting back towards the trilobites for a moment.

“I can’t imagine what waiting for eons is like,” the chthonic goddess says, her eyes downcast, lingering on the liquid still in her cup, “Did you ever worry that the Fates would keep the two of your apart?”

“No.” The ethereality of Nyx’s voice has a sharp edge to it, startling the young goddess and causing her to straighten her posture. “I knew that no matter what happened, she would wake up and we would be reunited and we would never be separated again. Her family always looked after me. ”

In this place, Nyx’s words cannot reach the Moirai, she is able to speak freely about the first of the children she bore alone. “They know better than to intervene in things beyond their purview. Not even I would want them to receive the wrath of Nyog’sothep or Nyarlathotep. Or worse, Azathoth or Shai-Hulud.”

While Azathoth ignores all of existence, bathing in the cacophony of sounds by its attendants, its twin spawns are the core of the Great Family, their lines long and extensive, spanning dimensions beyond space and time, spanning entire universes. Shai-Hulud remains on its beloved desert world making spice, making water of life. The old worms are content with ignoring all of existence, content with remaining in their domains. Nyx sees a similar tendency in her wife, for the Emperor is content with never leaving the Ziggurat if she can help it, and her first-shape never leaves the Black Palace.

Yet the old worms dislike it when their youngest sibling is upset. She who is such their precious and beloved centipede, the most worshiped, the most adored. Azathoth prefers that its twin spawn handle situations that arise. If it turns its gaze to the Moirai because their prophesying caused realm harm to its sibling, there would be nothing Nyx could do to assuage its rage. Shai-Hulud is the same, although it is more involved in its sibling’s well-being. When it passes through their domain, its presence is a soothing comfort. It is there alongside Nyx when the Emperor is gripped by weeping, raging madness when one of their daughters is hurt, the two of them there to ease the intensity of her emotions, to kiss her tears away, to calm her, to love her.

Spice lingers in the cold air of the Ziggurat. Particles emerge from the black sand in parts of the building that facilitate the passage of the Grandfather of the Desert. (May His passage cleanse the world.) Nyx has seen some of their daughters sleep near the black sand, their bodies taking on a slight blue tint from their time breathing in the spice. But in this room there is not enough for Melinoë to notice when she breathes, even as it collects at the bottom of her teacup.

The Machine-Sister from before approaches the Night Incarnate, her strange hands hold the folds of her pristine white clothes as she bends down to speak to the goddess, her glowing white oculi averting her gaze in reverence, her head bowed in worship. “Lady Nemesis has finished her diagnostic session. She will be here soon.”

Nyx softly thanks them and notices that the mention of Nemesis pulls Melinoë out of her deep thoughts. The primordial goddess knows that it typically takes a while for Nemesis to regain control of her mind and body after being in the chair for hours, the Old Machines and the Emperor extracting information. The warm glow in the young goddess’s face returns as she drinks the rest of the liquid, leaving nothing behind. Another nymph climbs into Nyx’s laps, finding a space not taken up by her sister, pressing herself as close as she can to her Night-mother’s middle, letting out a series of deep breaths as the goddess gently caresses her face, beckoning her to sleep and dream.

Ancient cousins begin to congregate in the area closest to Nyx. A sound emits from the glowing liquid in the walls, a hum.

“Lady Nyx….” Melinoë can hear the sound, a glaze of blue coating her mismatched eyes. “Are those beings singing—?”

On the far end of the room, the door slides open, mechanisms with the metal and rock hissing like an airlock depressurizing the space. Nemesis, freshly emerged from the diagnostic chair, crosses the threshold, pulling her heavy body through the door, every sound of servos and panels making a sound as she moves. Melinoë rises from her seat, dwarfed by the sheer size of Nemesis. Nyx sees the light in her eyes, the smile that her teal lips form as her daughter approaches her.

Underneath the pale skin of Nemesis’s face, the last of her skin, her face framed by her long midnight black hair, the Night sees that it bears the dusting of a deep, dark red. Her mechanical biology simulating the glow that Melinoë has whenever she looks upon the primordial goddess. Nemesis’s dark lips form a small smile, an expression so rare that Nyx cherishes every moment she bears witness to it. The happiness of her daughter: the smile she bears, the softness in her golden oculi, the way her black metal hand reaches out for Melinoë.

The Night Incarnate shifts her position, carefully moving the nymphs that have chosen her reclining form as the best place to sleep over to the cushions. She rises to her full height, towering over Nemesis and Melinoë. The darkness and spice shifts with her movement, her gems pulsing, the stars that line her hair reacting to the room itself. The ancient cousins move farther down the wall, singing to the sleeping nymphs.

“I understand you have multiple prospects and suitors, Melinoë. Many of them my own children.” The chthonic princess turns around to look at Nyx, her ghostly hand in Nemesis’s metal one. The Night’s face is impassive, but in her ethereal voice is approval and the joy she feel at seeing her children happy with another soul made just for them. “So long as you continue to love Nemesis and so long as my daughter is happy, this domain will always be open to you.”

“Mother….” Nemesis’s flanged, distorted voice travels across the room. Nyx can hear the gratitude in just that single word and it is enough for her.

With a knowing smile, the Night at the End of Everything waves her hand, wordlessly granting her daughter permission to take Melinoë deeper into the dimension that is home.

#creative impulses #creation: writing #hades game #melinoe hades #nyx hades #nemesis hades #night and extinction #the great family #nemesis x melinoe #it's all about love being the most powerful and eternal force in the universe #i rarely write long conversations so this was a little different from what i normally do #also i got the idea of nyx referring to melinoe as “o champion mine” from ryuuna's art #folks you ever just chill with your gf's mom in an eldritch building that tolerates you?#(taghanic refers to one of the late devonian extinction events that wiped out the dicranurus trilobites)#ever since matty called dicranurus trilobites cousins it's never left my head

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