aubins

[aubins]

yuri's been following her. they don't care much to bother hiding the fact.

one of their men coincidentally hanging around the inn when she happens to be there, loitering in the shadow library if she ever stops by. all the children running about abyss—not intentional spies, but everyone notices when new people arrive to the underground city, and they never deny yuri when they come around to play and ask a few questions about what they've seen her getting up to for their time.

professor. it's funny, really. as of recent years, they're hardly a surprise anymore, even if they have to wonder what aelfric's up to with their implementation. what reason was there to assigning teachers to guide the flock he intends to send to the slaughter? to keep them in line until then? to keep yuri in line until then?

aelfric's not that clever. he hasn't even suspected the half of it yet. but it still leaves the mockingbird to wonder why.

but waiting and watching only gets you so far, in the end. so the next time they hear that sonya's gone to visit the shadow library, they move to follow after her themself and leave one of their men to watch the door when the shut it behind them.

“hey, professor.” yuri approaches with the barest incline of their head in greeting, brow quirking. “had a question. your job's to answer those, right? have a minute?” / @excalitress

＊⠀what's in a name?

[aubins]

yuri's not the pickiest eater, even on a good day. food is food—they'll take what they can get however begrudgingly they must do so. yet...

“wow,” they say blandly, staring down at the bowl they've been poured. it doesn't look all that suspicious, really. if they hadn't known any better it would've just appeared like a normal bowl of stew. but the old woman's grin, all teeth, doesn't help calm their suspicions any. “do you have any daphnel stew?” they try instead, but all they get in response is a laugh and another pointed stir of the large pot.

“i'm sure some poultry and onion has made its way into the stew at some point.”

next, they nudge the bowl back toward her. “why don't you have it? it's no good to be working on an empty stomach.” a passerby pauses briefly as they're speaking to drop some chopped up carrots into the bowl and yuri bites down on their sigh. this can't possibly be sanitary. it must go against a tenet of seiros or three.

“aren't you generous, lad?” but she's still smiling, amused, when she pushes the bowl back in their direction. “my stomach's plenty full. why don't you have a taste before you write it off?”

their mother raised them not to waste food, but they're almost certain this might give them stomach poisoning for their manners. yuri casts a desperate glance around the room. there must be some poor stranger they can pawn it off to. / @burningquake

＊⠀(un)fortunately, nothing lasts forever.

MISSION BOARD : PEARLESCENT , PERPETUAL STEW .

[aubins]

“all set, your highness?”

yuri is the furthest thing from set, not even a turn of their head from the mirror when the door opens behind them. the prince's retinue had helped them into their clothes, had even done their makeup after much cajoling, but the mockingbird had drawn the line at their hair. careful hands slowly twist the braids up into a bun, gaze never drifting from their reflection even as the prince's retainer draws close behind them with a smile, holding the hairpins out before they can grab them themself.

they take them, sliding them into place one by one, then sigh. and finally, yuri stands, smoothing out the wrinkles in their clothes, and holds out a hand. “all right. where's my sword?”

it's just as gaudy as they would expect from something meant for ornamentation rather than a battlefield, far too bejewled in a way that makes it more valuable to pawn off than to fight with. but when they take it in hand anyway, it's far lighter than they expect, and just as sharp as any other. the surprise must show however briefly on their face, because the other man just laughs, a twinkle in his eyes. “they're all fake.” he leans over to flick at one of them, a shiny red thing. “hollow, see? isn't it a fun trick? they look real enough to fool the eye, but they're hardly as valuable or heavy. we can't have you fighting at a disadvantage, after all.”

“clever,” yuri agrees, sliding it into the sheath at their waist. their other hand slides over their side, feeling for the daggers concealed beneath their layers—there and...there. and if it comes to the worst of it, they suppose they could just find a glass to break. they start toward the door without waiting for prompting. “lead the way.”

the job is simple enough that yuri tunes out most of the briefing the prince's retainer offers along the way. always be on guard for an ambush. permission to deal with any attackers however they see fit. “if you could save one or two for interrogation, it would be nice”—an unconcerned wave of his hand—“but no need to trouble yourselves otherwise.” it's nothing particularly new in their line of work, really, except for one final factor that arrives stumbling into their chest, their arms already open to catch her before she has the chance to trip over herself.

“don't forget to smile, both of you!” the prince's retainer calls over his shoulder as he leaves with miss elidure's handmaiden. yuri just sighs as they adjust their grip around bernadetta.

but they smile, as requested. they're meant to play the part of a loving husband-to-be, after all. “of course it is, my love. surely you weren't planning on seeing any other men on our wedding day?” they lean closer under the guise of fixing her veil—can she even see under that thing? she'd sooner get stabbed than do any stabbing—a murmur under their breath, “you all right?”

the music starts up a moment later like an answer—it doesn't matter; it's time to begin. they release her long enough to reach for her hand instead. “just follow my lead,” yuri says as the doors leading to the venue proper are pulled open. their head dips closer to her as they start down the aisle. “careful, walk slow. i got you.”

*⚘ an unmarriageable bouquet

⠀ pearlescent '25 ⚘ sword +1 ⠀

[aubins]

＊⠀plotting call!⠀⠀yuri is an ashen wolf & also free for all your unaffiliated needs if you require a tag along for any of the prompts, even if i don't have them listed down. discord pings, tumblr ims, whatever floats your boat as usual if you'd like to plot. happy june, my friends!

to contextualize any prompts i take up from the mission board this month: i love writing yuri abusing his supposed status as count rowe's son hahaha so he is here under the guise of yuri rowe, visiting his father's villa to ensure it's being upkept through the winter.

ANY SKILL +1. / information is his trade as i love to make him say all the time HAHA and i imagine yuri's friendly enough with the staff of the rowe villa at the very least despite being “nobility.” supposed noble title or not, he's not the kind of person to sit by and let other people do all the chores when he's perfectly capable of lending a hand.

RIDING +1. / we explore da weird cellar with rumors of human experimentation ya-ho! to be honest i don't have specific plot beats i'm looking to hit for this one i just find the prompt fun. yuri is allergic to dogs though so your mileage sneaking around with him may vary.

FAITH +1. / so called infamous savage mockingbird when his mun never gets to write him doing crimes...he yearns for vigilante justice. yuri isn't going to cause a scene, really, he's more of the kind of person who plays for the long con. play the part of an innocent, young man who's new to pearl shoals, befriend them over the course of his stay for the investigation, and if the stolen money goes missing at the same time he does, well. nothing to be done about that. i think it could be funny if your muse thinks yuri is another one of the elites pocketing the gold though. please fuck up his plans hahaha

CLINGY LOVER. / i just think it's funny god bless i love to make yuri leclerc's life miserable.

and lastly! blinks cutely at all the abyssians & ashen wolves. i have realized that i am so bad at getting yuri to interact with abyss - affiliated muses HAHA so i would like to change this. if any of you are interested in doing something on or off board i reach for you :palm_up_hand:

[aubins]

step by step, they pick a path through the depths of abyss, fingers trailing over dusty brick as though they could retrace their steps through touch alone. the vague strokes of it, they remember well enough: left when you reach the fork in the tunnel that used to diverge into three paths, only for the ceiling above one of them to cave in and leave only two. getting closer when you find the abandoned cathedral, where corrosion has weathered the foreign god's face and rot has ruined the wooden pews.

treasure is interesting, sure. yuri will never say no to more gold to line their pockets, whatever the means it was acquired by. but more pressing to the mockingbird is where that supposed treasure lay, an arena they're sure they stumbled across just the other week on an expedition.

it had only been a small side project, that half-scribbled map left behind in their room. abyss is a city as secretive as her people, boasting dozens of secrets that they are privy to and likely dozens more that they have yet to discover. yuri is under no impression that they'll ever manage to completely map out its tunnels, but now they wish they'd gone out with just a bit more diligence that last trip they took. how could you not hear about all the portals popping up around the monastery, apparently a one-way ticket straight there?

if someone managed to make it through the arena's trials and find actual treasure... well, the last thing yuri needs is hopeful treasure hunters getting ideas and finding their way to abyss on accident. and so, they'll just have to get there first and hope the lack of incentive is enough to dissuade anyone.

there's the fork in the path. they take the left.   /   @wolfhednn

＊⠀every which way.

MISSION BOARD : EXCAVATION , ANY SKILL +1 .

[aubins]

there's never any harm to more food going around abyss, especially in more recent moons. that's what finally drags yuri to the surface after weeks of laboring away at setting things to rights in the underground city—a wolf's caught the scent of blood, and they'll chase it down if it's the last thing they do.

it's been a long while since they've held a bow instead of a blade. short of chasing the damned birds to wrestle them down, though, their usual methods will hardly be of much use here. still, legs dangling from their perch in a tree, they draw the string back with a practiced ease, aimed for the flock in the distance.

...and then they scatter before their fingers have even relaxed enough to loose the arrow, leaving yuri scowling as they guide the bowstring back to rest and return the arrow to its quiver. after all the effort they'd gone through too. they waited so patiently for them to show up, climbed a tree despite the hassle just to get a better vantage point...

they carefully lower their bow and quiver to the ground with a rope before tipping their weight ever so slightly off the tree branch. at least getting back down is easier. they hit the ground in a roll, then pop back onto their feet in an instant, knife in hand as they back into the tree stump. “it's polite to say hello,” they call out. “i prefer to greet my voyeurs first.” / @fujins-favored

＊⠀a shot in the dark.

MISSION BOARD : EXCAVATION , BOW +1 .

[aubins]

the first few squeezes of their hand earn a flicker of their gaze, curious. after a while, they take to squeezing back. yuri may be used to brushing off their own near deaths like dust from their shoulder, but...reassurance for them both, perhaps.

the promise of a roof over their head has them eager to start toward venue proper, but bernadetta's voice is quick to draw their voice away. “hm?”

if only everyone could see the way she lights up—yuri doesn't want any of them to, though. selfish and greedy, certainly, but when have they ever claimed to be otherwise? a soft exhale, the smallest twitch at the corner of their lips. just for tonight, then, they'll fall victim to nostalgia. they'd have gone even without her pulling them along, and so now that she does they only laugh as they follow. “okay, okay! i'm coming. be careful, it's wet.”

it's quieter the closer they get to the greenhouse—perhaps owed to the fact that they're probably not meant to be here at all—the pitter patter of rain and the splash of their steps their only company. a tug on her hands, a bid to slow, and then it is yuri's turn to step ahead, finger pressed to their lips as they glance around for any staff that may be laying in wait.

but the night is still and the path is clear. they dart for the greenhouse door before that can change, trying for the door and exhaling when it slides open without complaint. “come on, before anyone shows up,” they murmur, ushering her inside with a wave of their hand. then, wryly, as they shut the door behind them, “i suppose breaking and entering is a step down for you after poison.”

a hand brushes damp hair out of their eyes, fluttering shut as they slump against a wall with a dramatic sigh. one eye cracks open, an amused smile curls. “you know, i think i took for granted how nice it is to be dry. i could water all the plants in here just from wringing my hair out.”

·⠀❥　april showers, may flowers.

[aubins]

yuri knows. he always seems to goes deaf the moment she protests it, though, what odd timing.

“you are being stingy!” he accuses with a gasp, a touch too dramatic to be genuine. “what, are my bracelet charm and wonderful company not enough for you? you'll hurt my feelings at this rate.”

then, a raise of their brow. “besides, i don't see you offering up anything else. and what could someone as insignificant as i possibly provide the esteemed constance von nuvelle?”

“trade with me.” not quite polite enough to call it a request and not quite harsh enough to be a demand. it's just a byproduct of the air of confidence that follows yuri wherever he goes, a man who tends to get his ‘yes’es. the turtle charm dangles before her, pinched between two fingers as their owner quirks a brow. “c'mon. don't be stingy with me, shady lady—you'll get something out of it too. and i wanna see what prizes they've got lined up this time.”

He had come out of the blue - but it almost feels right, for him to appear from within the ever-moving crowds. She reserves a smile to greet him with. Or would, but it's fairly quickly exchanged with a furrowed brow.

"Oh, you know that's not the name I want to be called by!" Placed upon her face is a prominent pout, as she watches the turtle charm dangle from their hands. Being informed at the entrance about the goal of these charms, her scowl deepens as she reflects upon her options.

In the end, she lets out a sharp heave, searching her belongings to find...oh, that's right. They're matching. In one of her hands, a cute little turtle dangles from her fingertips now, too.

"Really though, what IS in it for me?" She asks. A rare chance to wave something over his head, for once? She's can't just let it go now. "I won't deny that would appreciate the trade. But you really can't provide something more in return?"

[aubins]

their head snaps to the direction of her voice. wobbles toward it at first, then breaks into a sprint as they find steadier footing. before long, there she is, and yuri finally exhales the breath they'd been holding since the sea took them both.

immediately, they frown. “bernie shouldn't be sorry for anything unless she was plan—are you sure you're all right?” a hand comes to rest on her shoulder as she hunches over abruptly, frown deepening. “i'm fine. worry about yourself, not me.” nausea stirs in their stomach and throat as soon as the words are out, and they've half a mind to swallow it just so the point sticks.

the choice is made for them, in the end. they turn sharply away from her to cough up more water to the sand.

they're soaked to the bone and starting to shiver now that the adrenaline's wearing off, their scarf was a lost cause the moment the wave hit, and their hair tie must've gotten pulled off at some point from the way their loose hair is now sticking to their neck, but—well. they're not at the bottom of the sea, so small mercies, they suppose. alive is usually the most yuri bothers to ask for.

where are we is a good question. they contemplate it as they grimace and gather their hair in their hands to wring the water out. but the sand—tch, they'll need to wash it out later. and after all the effort they put into dressing up for the night too.

instinct braces them for a bad answer as they finally tear their thoughts away from their vanity long enough to take a surveying look around—some random island off in the sea, somewhere far off on the adrestian shoreline, somewhere else entirely—only to squint at lights in the distance.

a blink. a step forward as they squint again just to be sure. “...i think that's the menja estate?” is their baffled answer instead.

and yuri laughs. they can't help it. almost drowning must get to your head, all the salt and all the water and all the nausea from all the twisting and turning. “well, i think that saves us most of the walk.” they hold out a hand, tilting their head toward safe shelter in the distance. “c'mon. before the sea changes its mind and drags us back.”

·⠀❥　april showers, may flowers.

[aubins]

bernadetta jumps straight into their side, and, “you're fine,” yuri says automatically, one part for the apology they expect her to voice, two parts as reassurance. but the apology doesn't come, a concerning warning in its place. “what?”

a half-turn in the direction she gestures and the beginning of a warning to run—to where? there is literally nowhere to hide—are all that yuri manages before they are swept a bit too literally off their feet. all they can taste is salt, all they can see is darkness, and all they can feel is bernadetta's grip slipping away—and then, all they can feel is blinding panic bolting through their chest as they try to grasp blindly for her.

their mouth opens automatically to call for her, her name choked on instead as water floods their mouth before they can close it again. but they force their eyes open against the sting and reach wildly again for whatever shape of her they can make out only for the waves to drag them too far apart.

the next moment they can remember, there is suddenly merciful land beneath them again. yuri braces themself with shaky arms and promptly throws water up on the sand.

saints. they hope that when they die, it isn't by drowning. coughing, they push themself to their feet and cast their gaze around. hands cup around their mouth in a hoarse shout, “bernadetta!” a few, wary steps away from the shoreline as they call out again, “bernadetta! oh, for saints' sake. don't tell me i have to dive back in for you.”

the way they slowly draw back to the edge of the shore, it seems like they're really considering it. like hell they spared her life just to have her drown to death in a storm all these years later. imagine that? they think the knife really would have been kinder if she ends up drowning here. their hands drop from their mouth, if only to cast a random spell to light up the dark as they squint into the water.

then, again, the barest hint of something—desperation? fear? something else entirely?—in their tone, “bernadetta!”

·⠀❥　april showers, may flowers.

[aubins]

it starts when they're still down by the shore.

yuri hadn't been in any hurry to reach their destination, but they're starting to wish they'd had even a bit more urgency. there's hardly any warning. one moment, they're leisurely walking the shoreline, in the middle of recounting a story of the last party they'd been to—boring, except for the part where the host's prized heirloom abruptly went missing, a theft they surely had no hand in, they insist. the next, it seems the sky itself has decided to cry its protests at the lie.

“you have to be kidding.” one hand goes up to shield their eyes automatically, the other grasping blindly for the cape usually at their shoulder on every evening except tonight, for all the good either does. the rain just goes down the back of their hand, trickling in streaks down their arm before they give up and let it fall a second later. “i just got dry,” they complain with a grimace, picking at where their clothes have already begun to stick to skin.

but there's nothing to be done about it now. standing around and complaining will hardly get them dry. with a sigh, they unravel the scarf around their neck and draw closer to bernadetta, unfurling it as much as it can to hold over her head, though it does a lousy job at stopping the rain. “all right. c'mon, then. we should get further from shore before this storm gets worse.” / @hermidetta

·⠀❥　april showers, may flowers.

[aubins]

it is an insult to bernadetta's character that they still brace for the knife. they do, though; they know nothing else. and, of course, it never comes. because they know. she is brave. strong. good—too good, to them. but yuri is not used to goodness without the twist of a knife to follow it. it always has, it always will, and getting ahead of expecting the worst lets them prepare for it.

so, they brace. you can't want that. no one wants that.

but she does, she says. and what are they mean to do with that?

this is the problem with caring. because yuri should pry her chest apart and tear that key free from her rib cage without a second thought, crush and bury it somewhere no one will ever find it again. a dozen times over they've done this song and dance, a trail of bodies and broken hearts left in their wake—that savagest of mockingbirds, as many knives as feathers to adorn them.

and yet, yuri doesn't. can't. reaches for her heart with the same determination they'd once put the knife to her throat only to falter the exact same way, too. mercy is not a survival instinct—but there is no one here to drag them away and break their bones. if they are to be punished for it, they will have to fall on the knife themself.

and they will. they would, without hesitation, if they didn't think she would try to fight for it again. yuri's body can bend and bleed and break whichever way they want it to—but not bernadetta's, not trying to save them from themself, not when they already know how it would end.

“...okay,” they exhale instead, because they don't trust themself to say anything more, don't know if the i'm sorry would even make it past their lips. okay, because they don't know if they believe it, but they want to believe her. okay, because they guess they can try to agree with her too, even if most of the time they know they won't. because sometimes it's just important that they try, isn't that what they said to her, hypocrite that they are?

“but you're out of luck if you want to learn more about stars,” they continue—and there goes regulus, swallowed up for good by yuri leclerc once more as they pull themself to their feet. the pieces slip back into place without needing an extra beat, as easy as breathing. a pained wince as they roll out their shoulders, stretch the cricks in their neck and back. “regulus is the only one i know anything about.”

and then? “think one of the viscount's ships has a library so we can steal a book about them?” because yuri can try to do good by her, even if no one else. they'll continue to show her their favorite things, continue to laugh at all her antics, and try—because bernadetta is trying so hard too, isn't it only fair that they do the same? maybe they won't kiss her again. maybe the most they can promise for now is to be there, to still be her friend. maybe they'll never be able to promise more. and then if she still wants that, this, them, whatever name they wear...

they tilt their head toward the mouth of the cavern and raise a brow. “confident bernadetta's up to another lesson in crime things, right?”

if one day she gets tired of forgiving, they won't fault her for it. they'll just have to brace for that, too. but until then, they hold a hand out again. take another step. and maybe today is something they can promise her too, even if tomorrow isn't.

*⚘ crimes one and two

⠀ continued. ⚘ ethereal ball 2025 ⠀

[aubins]

i don't want anything that you don't, she says.

it's sweet of her. kind of her. maybe the most consideration anyone's ever had of them. but it's not an answer. the frustration rises automatically, like it always does, when they are faced with a conundrum they cannot solve. they can't help it. everyone wants something; yuri is good at giving it to them. for what is a mockingbird's worth? only what they can offer to others. to the denizens of abyss, it is their protection. to the men in their gang, it is gold in their pockets and food on the table. every corrupt noble and evil bastard they've schemed against, they have twisted their body and their words to fit the mold required of them.

people are essentially selfish—no matter how they mask it, that is the most base truth. and so, if you know what they want, offer it to them like a carrot on a stick, then you can lead a horse to water and make it drink.

can't your happiness be valuable enough? she asks of the boy who is ready to burn down alongside this world to build a better one. will it ever be, in this world? they want to ask in return. because they had been happy, once. a family, whole in his mind, as he hummed along to his mother's voice while the elder taught him his letters. a garden, sacred in his memories, as two children stifled giggles beneath the cover of shrubbery while waiting for the coast to be clear.

but all the happiness in the world couldn't stop the plague from knocking at their door and taking the elder away. all the happiness in the world couldn't line their pockets with the gold they needed to help their sick mother. it was yuri who left home to find help; yuri who put a knife to the throat of their dearest friend for gold; yuri who plots and schemes to keep everyone safe and makes the abyssian children that look up to them for it promise that they will never grow up to be like them.

and still, a mother welcomes them home without question, no matter how long and far away they drift. a girl offers her heart to them again and again, no matter the threat of a knife. a little kid still smiles at yuri every time they pass her in abyss with the same admiration in her eyes. everyone forgives yuri—everyone except themself, because they know that most base truth.

“i'll hurt you again,” they say, and they'll never forgive themself for it no matter how many times she does. if she wants them to be themself, then this is what they are: a wounded animal that lashes out when it's afraid. “worse than a knife to your throat.” she sees them and sees them and sees them, so why can't she see this? bernadetta deserves care; yuri doesn't. that is the difference.

still, they meet her gaze. they have no choice—how could they ever look away?

“is that what you want?” they murmur. “i'm not a good thing in this world anymore. all i do is take.” because people are essentially selfish. yuri is too. but they want to mean it, and yuri leclerc never can, and...

and.

and so regulus kisses her, because maybe it can be that simple again if they pretend. because they want to mean it. just once, even if never again.

but it can't last. nothing in their life ever does, not even a name. it's their turn to pull away, just a fraction. so they can look her in the eyes one last time before they let go of her hands to put theirs on her shoulders and gently push her away. and they promise, “i'll hurt you again. you can't forgive me forever—i won't let you. you deserve better than that.”

go, they say. this is the last good thing i know how to give you, and even this is for myself. because it's a promise they know they will inevitably keep, an eternally self-fulfilling prophecy. even if yuri doesn't hold the blade, someone else will. the savage mockingbird is a wraith with no name, but plenty of enemies to spare. and they can't stab a ghost when it won't bleed.

but bernadetta still can.

so they press the hilt of the knife back into her bloodied hands and guide the blade to their heart. strike here to make me bleed, they tell her. hurt me first. make it quick.

because a caged bird never sings, but an unshackled one does. so, this time, they'll make sure to lose the key for the good.

*⚘ crimes one and two

⠀ continued. ⚘ ethereal ball 2025 ⠀

[aubins]

their breath catches at the first touch. if they breathe, they think it all might shatter.

so yuri holds very, very still.

they have to. they force themself to. they swallow every instinct to flinch and flee. they'd asked her to be brave, but yuri realizes in this moment that they aren't. the walls do not crumble—they were built with sturdier things than that—but they chip, a little bit. slowly, slowly, from the very first day that bernadetta walked back into their life and asked can't we just be friends again?

as if life was that simple. as if forgiveness was that easy.

(  she makes it so easy. everything is easy with bernadetta.  )

and so the walls do not crumble, but they chip, a little bit. over the year of their rekindled friendship, again and again, and now there is a hole big enough to reach through. one that only she can find, because maybe the key hadn't been lost when jules died. maybe they just left it behind with her when he died.

a ghost, a whisper, below their right eye then gone. ah. bernadetta pulls away—but not that far, they realize as they open their eyes. she ducks again, but yuri doesn't have the will to tilt her head back up this time, doesn't know if they would even be able to meet her eyes if they did. “bernadetta, i...” ...am fine? ...forgive you? what's the truth, really?

yuri pulls away. not too far, but it might as well be miles away for how close they'd just been.

“i told you to be brave”—they try for levity and know their tone comes up short, comes out half-pained instead—“and that's what you decided to do?” they really don't understand her.

a strangled laugh. “...i really don't understand you.”

and they really don't. it's true. because of course yuri has known—they're not blind. they've seen the way she looks at them, noted each time her gaze darted to their lips and away. yuri knows lust, has twisted it every which way to work in their favor, and they ought to have nipped this in the bud. because they won't do it here, won't do it with her. if they had it their way, they would have reunited in that infirmary and parted the same day. there is nothing they can offer her that is worthwhile.

what is there to gain, after all? a hundred secrets she knows they're keeping that yuri will still never tell? a target forever painted on her back, because the savage mockingbird is a ghost that can hide, but how could bernadetta von varley ever be? she worries enough now; she'll worry more. she is afraid enough now; she'll have more to fear. the only thing they can do is make her life infinitely worse.

“i don't know what you want from me,” they confess quietly. it's the most honest they've ever been. “i can't give you anything of value. you don't even know my name.”

in the end, there's nothing to forgive. the truth is this: this is no one's fault but theirs.

*⚘ crimes one and two

⠀ continued. ⚘ ethereal ball 2025 ⠀

[aubins]

“i've hurt someone i cared about before, you know,” yuri says. thinks of a letter at a kitchen table left behind for a mother to find in place of her son. thinks of a knife to a girl's throat in her sleep. thinks of the secrets they keep now to play puppet master over their friends, all their lives unwittingly entrusted to them. “i've hurt a lot of people. i'll probably hurt even more in the future.” that is the nature of their profession, the base truth of their life: to survive, they will do whatever it takes. and if hurting even those closest to them is what it takes...

but then they laugh, half-disbelieving, and shake their head. “funny, though. that when people care for you too, they understand. they forgive anyway, even when i know i don't deserve it.” the mother still shed tears for the son that had run away when he returned. the girl still offered her would-be murderer friendship when they reunited.

and so what can yuri do in the face of it but laugh? they are not deserving of love, of forgiveness, of a million other kindnesses they have been afforded. the world they seek to create is not one will ever they belong to. they'll laugh in the face of the goddess sooner than they'll decide to repent. and if given a chance to go back, they'll just do it all over again the exact same way.

“but if people could forgive even me”—an unrepentant sinner, a no-good bastard who never learns, a person who has hurt them on purpose—“then they'll forgive you. even if you hurt them on accident.”

so yuri reaches out their other hand to tighten their grip over hers. nods.

and they close their eyes.

because together, yes. always on purpose. she had not forsaken them, so they will never forsake her.

*⚘ crimes one and two

⠀ continued. ⚘ ethereal ball 2025 ⠀

[aubins]

bernadetta's question snaps their train of thought back on course. their hand falls from their collar to draw idle circles in the sand.

“well, you practice.” simple, obvious, and out of their mouth before they even have time to think about it. but yuri, despite their seemingly endless confidence, knows it's not as easy as all that. “you push yourself even if you're scared. you pretend you aren't until you don't have to. and if you lie about it long enough, sometimes it becomes the truth.” after all, even they weren't born a liar. the mask of yuri leclerc exists to hide a terrified boy whose heart they'll lie and kill and bleed to defend.

it is all he has left. it is all he has left. because it was built up to protect him, first and foremost. because bones could break, and wounds could bleed, and the world itself could end, but at least his heart would never break. and so they'll claw tooth and nail to that future both they and that boy dream of, so one day, he will no longer have to be afraid.

if they must wear their mask and play the role of the savage mockingbird forever for it to be, then so be it.

“but you can think of it like writing or reading, if that helps,” they continue. “a murder mystery, sure, if you really are committing to the life of crime—the clever serial killer. a romance novel if you'd like to fall in love—the charming love interest.”

who did regulus want to be? what?

sharp, so the advantage would only ever be in his hands. charming, so no man or woman alive could tell him no. stronger, faster, smarter. if the world wasn't made to favor children like him, then he would cut out a place for him and all those like him to belong.

but they hope bernadetta will never have a need to be all of that. they shrug. “or you can just be bernadetta von varley, but a little braver. do all the things you'd normally hesitate to. even if you're scared of what might happen, sometimes it's just important that you try.” yuri holds out a hand and raises a brow. “so? what's something you've always wanted to do? if you can't give it a shot for yourself, at least humor me. it'd be embarrassing if you didn't after the long speech and all. besides, i'd like to see what a confident bernadetta looks like myself.”

no, they won't. they pull on the knife, send it skittering aside. because, really, they should've known that if they bled, she would try to follow. so, fine. bloodied hand in bloodied hand, then. they can just bleed out together.

*⚘ crimes one and two

⠀ continued. ⚘ ethereal ball 2025 ⠀

[aubins]

bernadetta flusters—because of course she does, because who doesn't is a far shorter list of people—and yuri doesn't feel good about it. feels worse when she rushes to soothe their ego and tramples her own in the process. stupid loser, she'd called herself earlier. unkissable, she says now. the words tumble out of her, practiced and well-worn and untrue, and they wonder if she ever gives them a second thought.

they shake their head, waving off her concern. “i'm fine, i'm fine. you've cheered me right up.” but are you? they almost ask, then swallow it in favor of another smile. “i don't bite unless you ask me to. you don't have to hide.” and the words are light, but their heart feels heavy.

she's not even half the things she says—no, not any of them at all, really. but some lies, they know, get buried far too deep. engraved again and again to the bone, a fact of life you settle into with enough time.

yuri sighs. then a hand reaches over to tilt her chin up, lilacs finding her eyes. they frown. “all right, listen up. here's your first lesson in crime things: confidence. if you're not confident, you'll get caught. as far as i'm concerned, you're smart and perfectly kissable.”

a few words won't be enough to unlearn every foul word that's been trained into her head, so they'll say it as many times as it takes. anyone else, they might've even thought about kissing her just to prove a point. it would be far from their first and certainly ages still from their last. they trade in charm and information. love and lust. it's all just another tool at their disposal, held at a distance, all the physicality with none of the care.

yuri cares, though. about bernadetta. against their better judgement. and she'd never believe it about herself, perhaps, but she makes it so easy. everything is easy with bernadetta. for just a moment, reality slips into the background. they can lose themself to the absurdity of the chaos she spins. yuri leclerc isn't the savage mockingbird. they're just yuri, and somehow that is enough. they can smile and laugh like they mean it—because they want to mean it, and they do.

and if they ever kiss her, they want to—

yuri blinks. that train of thought slams to a sudden stop at the same time their hand drops, reaches to fuss at their collar instead. they need to take a few steps back from that. a lot of steps back from that. awkwardly, they tack on, “so chin up, yeah? if i think so, then it has to be right.”

it turns out yuri can cut themself just fine, trying to flip the knife back.

*⚘ crimes one and two

⠀ continued. ⚘ ethereal ball 2025 ⠀