#I CANNOT PUT INTO WORDS THE EMOTIONS I FEEL ABOUT FONTAINE

[m1d-45]

I'm so scared for Childe, I don't want him to die in the Fontaine quests! I want my boy to be okay! 😭

REAL

childe is such a guy ever. i know he won’t die cause o plot reasons but DAMN

[harmonysanreads]

What do you think about Yan! Focalors?

I saw this ask a while back but I decided to first see Furina's personality in-game before answering and mmmm, definitely possible. Though if I ever do include her in any of my writings, I'll be keeping it platonic :>

Furina's life source is the spotlight, she thrives in the very epicenter of attention. At the same time, she seems to have a distinct need for external validation. Her extravagant manner of speech is both her weapon and her shield. If you wish to catch her attention and keep it fixated upon you until a solid foundation of affection can be formed ; you'd need to be a bit of an anomaly. Someone who's a challenge, someone who's not swayed by her provocations and someone who can see through her bravado. What would really change the trajectory of your relationship is, if you'd share a vulnerable moment with her, as as it is seen she prefers to keep her troubles and insecurities to herself.

Furina knows when she likes someone or something enough to make a move, so her initial strategy is to put all sorts of grandiose shows that flaunt her own admirable qualities. There's another reason she chooses this method, that is the pressure that comes from the public and which she hopes would push you to accept her proposals. When that doesn't work and gossip of the Hydro Archon getting rejected spreads like wildfire, Furina is embarrassed. But ever the stubborn one, she employs strategies after strategies to gain your attention and praise (she phrases it as you getting hers instead because of course) and even the tiniest quantity of it has her squealing at the quiet confines of her bedroom.

I think she's one of those characters who get hit by a whole existential crisis the moment they realize they've actually caught feelings for someone. It becomes blatantly clear to bystanders as well, she fumbles with her words, twiddles her thumbs and reacts strongly with matters that concern you. Definitely throws a tantrum if you don't notice the new bow she wore. At the same time, she does thorough research on you from the time you get up for bed to who your first ancestor was. She makes sure to learn about your interests and hobbies and might even start doing them herself to better bond with you. She'd consider those all-nighters worth it if she manages to get even an impressed look from you.

As her affections grow in intensity, she starts expressing her jealousy. She cannot stand you being all buddy-buddy with someone who's obviously lesser than her, she's the better choice! Can't you see?! Thankfully, getting pesky pedestrians out of the picture is easy in Fontaine — given that you know how to use its laws against your enemies. One thing is for certain though, because of the influx of these new and intense emotions, Furina is rather unstable. She'd never physically hurt you (that's just not her thing) but she does take a lot of impulsive decisions that effect the surroundings.

If push comes to shove and you still refuse to reciprocate her love despite all that she's done, her final weapon is the courtroom. Remember? Getting anyone out of the picture is easy if you know your way around the laws of Fontaine and really, who'd look for you at the Hydro Archon's palace if they believed you to be sentenced to lifelong prison?

[ereana]

Neuvillette x Furina - I’d come for you. No matter what, when you need me, I will be there.

The news hits Fontaine like a drop of rain across a still pond.

Furina is gone.

It ripples out from the point of impact in waves.

Furina is missing.

It provides only a second of warning, enough time for people to look up and wonder, before the rest of the rain falls.

Furina has been kidnapped.

The sudden deluge appears from nowhere, pedestrians quickly flee for shelter and vainly attempt to shield themselves from the heavy drops of rain that pelt the land below as if in punishment. In his manmade lair of marble and glass the Hydro Sovereign feels five hundred years of control snap.

Had Focalors known what she was doing when she returned his power? Had she known what it would unlock inside him? Emotions, once dull and frustratingly out of reach, now howl in his breast. Neuvillette snarls and feels fangs in his mouth. There is no hiding from the vortex of rage and fear that consumes him, he embraces it.

He has to find her. He must find her. He needs to see her stand before him unharmed and unfazed, smiling excitedly as she talks about the new dish she is attempting to master.

The fools who have done this do not know what they have unleashed, what now hunts them with unwavering focus. People uneasily watch from the sides of the great lake as its waters swell and churn, mirroring the mood of the enraged dragon.

If Furina has been hurt they will wish the prophecy had taken them.

Messages are sent out, officers are given tasks, and Neuvillette clamps down on the growing need to walk out the Palais doors and start hunting by himself. Patience, he reminds himself. He needs more information, the sort that only comes from human networks and investigation. 

Clorinde eyes him with uncertainty as she reports back, seeing the promise of savagery that lurks beneath his human guise. Neuvillette does not try to hide it. His claws scrape across the grand wooden desk of his office as she tells him of the group of rogue scientists from the Fontaine Research Institute who had sought to experiment with Primordial Sea water. Their proposals had been soundly rejected by the Institute so they had left to look for other opportunities and had come across the news of the only Hydro vision bearer who could control the dangerous substance.

Clorinde does not look away as she relays this to him nor does she flinch when the arm of his chair splinters under the force of his grip. There is a satisfied tightness in her eyes as she stands before him having just condemned these men to death.

Neuvillette enters their hideout alone.

He ignores the concerns from the Melusines and the Gardes. It is misplaced. He does not bring them with him not because he doubts their abilities, but because he will not be able to ensure their safety once he steps foot inside the wretched hole in the ground. His power simmers in his veins ready to be called upon, to obliterate anyone who has dared lay a hand on Furina, and he cannot guarantee that any assistance would be caught in the crossfire.

This is where they have kept her? A rotting network of pipes and caves that reeks of chemicals which sting his nose.

Unforgivable.

The first sinner kidnapper that he sees dies without uttering a word, merely gargles as water in the air starts to condense rapidly in his mouth and lungs.

This is no trial. No arguments. No evidence.

They have dared to put their hands on Furina; the woman who holds the heart of the Hydro dragon in her hands, the woman who could command him to drown a thousand nations for her and he would do so gladly, the woman who never would because kindness is an intrinsic part of her very soul.

Everyone in this pathetic shelter has already received their final judgment and all that remains is for Neuvillette to carry out the sentence.

Corridor after corridor passes in a blur of yells and the crushing force of his power. With each step his panic rises. Not here. Not here. He hasn’t found her yet. She isn’t safe.

What if-

He rounds a corner and is met with the most beautiful pair of mismatched eyes looking at him from behind the raised hilt of a sword. The fight leaves him instantly and he almost staggers towards her.

Furina lowers her blade at the sight of him. Her familiars float around her, searching left and right for enemies, Mademoiselle Crabaletta snaps a claw in his direction. 

“Neuvillette? How did you….What are you…” She stutters, before her eyes widen. “Is that blood?! Are you alright?” She steps closer to him, hands waving wildly as she frets over the red splotch on his coat. Normally he would listen intently to her every word but not at this moment. Not when a wave of relief crashes over him with the force of a tsunami.

She is here.

She is alive.

He sees the tear in her coat and shirt, the telltale bruises around her wrists that could only have come from chains, and part of him wants to continue through the base and rip apart the ones responsible. The rest of him doesn’t want to leave her side.

“Are you listening to me?” Furina asks, waving a hand in front of his unblinking eyes. “I think I made it about halfway up before they noticed I escaped and I think one of them raised the alarm. I mean I didn’t expect you to come but we should-”

“Why?” Neuvillette asks hoarsely. “Why did you not think I would come for you?”

Furina startles at the interruption, before dropping her gaze to the floor. Her body language shifts from a battle ready stance to something smaller, weaker. It conjures fresh memories of a fateful trial and a broken woman sitting silently on her throne.

“W-Well, I-I mean you’re so busy with running Fontaine and I-I’m nobody important anymore, just a civilian. I know we’re friends but I know you have other priorities.”

Neuvillette listens to her and hears what remains unsaid.

And the last time I needed you, you left me alone.

He falls to his knees before her.

He doesn’t reach out to hold her like he so desperately wants to, not until she allows him to.

“I’d come for you.” He swears to her. “No matter what, when you need me, I will be there.” 

Furina freezes, her hands momentarily still in their fluttering before she clutches them to her chest. She looks at him with equal parts trepidation and hope, five hundred years working together and she’s never heard him speak so ardently.

His oath echoes in the room around them and outside the world itself seems to hold its breath.

She lets out a shaky breath, sniffs once. Twice.

And then she pulls him into a crushing hug as she starts to cry into his shoulder.

Neuvillette returns the embrace immediately, careful not to hold her too tightly lest he inflict more pain than he already has, and lets his goddess find the comfort she needs in his arms.

[the-steambird]

[ 011223 EDITION ]

GENSHINBLR — NOVEMBER, 2023 EDITORIAL

EXTRA! EXTRA! Over here, dear reader! As we enter the twelfth month of the year, read up on what’s happened this past month of November on Genshin Tumblr!

From your Editors: Crow and Ely.

COLLECTIVES — November Events !

TRENDING! || From Journalist @meidnightrain

1989 Event — 21 songs to 21 fics with the Genshin characters; A celebration to the release of Taylor Swift’s 1989 album, with fluff, angst, and hurt / comfort galore! Our journalist Meisha takes us through the re-recorded album with various Genshin characters X GN! Reader ranging from Aether, to Furina, and many more in between!

NEWS FLASH! || From Editor @yuellii

Fontaine : Dark Blood — A supernatural-themed event to continue off the spirit of Halloween in November; Dark Blood follows three separate one shots of vampire Neuvillette, werewolf Wriothesley, and puppet Lyney X GN! Reader. Our editor Ely executes horror through her writing, so readers, please heed her warnings carefully in each fic!

COLUMN — Individual Spotlight !

LET TWO EYES BE UNDECEIVED, Lyney / By Editor @rainswept

Summary from the editor: Growing up with you by his side, falsities were always something Lyney could see through. He preferred not to use them, not for a long time — but once you were gone and he and Lynette were left without someone to do the group’s dirty work, he forced himself to inherit the way of living you left behind.

“So excited for this one! Editor Crow’s been showing me their progress—honestly such a must-read for Lyney fans when it comes out, teehee.” — Editor Ely.

YOU’RE SO RED, ARE YOU OKAY?, Furina / By Journalist @definitelynotaneulasimp

A comedic review by Journalist Henry, in which the Archon of Hydro attempts at a date, but all goes wrong when she develops a terrible case of hiccups. Rumor has it: This fic is a part of Henry’s 1.5k Followers Event!

Want more Genshin women content? Definitely check out Henry’s own blog for characters like Ei, Navia, and more!

GOODNIGHT, Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @strawberrylabs

Did you know: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe have voice lines about you, dear reader?! If you’re having trouble falling asleep, hear what these characters have to say all about you!

A SIMPLE MISSION, Neuvillette / By Journalist @alaboadoa

Rumor has it: The Duke and the Iudex were caught whispering privately about you?! Read as Journalist Soph gossips all the juicy details about their conversation—it seems Monsieur Neuvillette might have a crush on you!

Just recently released: Journalist Soph also just recently released a new entry for Ayato, “INK TO PAPER.” Both of these works are featured in her 1k milestone event!

ONE CHANCE (PT.2), Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @ayaboba

“You give them one chance. How do they use it?” Journalist Anya returns with Kazuha, Lyney, Wanderer, and Zhongli—all who have just one last chance with you. Be sure to also check our her part one of this entry with Alhaitham, Diluc, Neuvillette, and Wriothesley, linked in her entry!

WHEN THEY LOSE YOU, Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @yrbladie

Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvillette, Zhongli — ever in the mood for angst and no comfort? Then Journalist Naeris delivered us painful excepts on five different Genshin men and how they act after ( spoiler! ) losing you.

With Journalist Naeris also being on the rise and joining the writing train, be sure to check out all the other works she has published this month, as well!

FEATURE — The Editors’ Favorites !

YOUR SHADOW UNDER THE ILLUSORY MOON., Lyney / By Journalist @dulcesiabits

“this piece genuinely moved me. journalist liya’s writing is beautiful, and out of hundreds — maybe even thousands — of works that i have read, this has remained my favorite. it had me hanging on every word and i could genuinely feel the emotion put into it — her word choices and the way she conveys the scenes are profound in a way i cannot hope to describe. the ties and parallels part one has with PART TWO are so smart, too. hands down the most immersive and touching writing i’ve ever had the pleasure to read.” — Editor Crow.

JEALOUS-!, Ayato / By Journalist @jinxlixir

“LOVED this one! Takes place in a modern school AU with Ayato as the student council prez, and reader as his vice prez! The concept is every hopeful cliché, and Journalist Jinx did an amazing job characterizing Ayato so well—this one definitely stayed in my head for a while!”

“Not to mention: This little snippet is a continued concept of Jinx’s OTHER AYATO PIECE, one that’s much longer and written excellently!! I was practically squealing the whole time I read it… Ignore my tags if you decide to scroll through the notes.” — Editor Ely.

THE-STEAMBIRD is a Genshinblr Newspaper that posts news on the latest fanfiction and fanart! Editorials are published on the 1st day of every month, compiling your favorite works, featuring sections for journalists (writers) and photographers (artists).

Every month, from the 2nd-24th, we are in the nomination process. Writers and artists can nominate works they would like to see featured on The-Steambird for the month using our form!

[xstarlightxstarbrightx]

Neuvi headcanons

MY BBGRL,,, MY LIL CUTIE MANS WHO I ADORE,,,, i love him so much he's so fuCKIng CUTE dude, lil dragon mans sksmefkhjrshefkj. i swear i'm a normal individual w/ these characters

list of current h/c's: - i feel like he's socially anxious?? like ok, listen, he's GREAT w/ any formal situation, but THE MOMENT it gets casual he PANICs on the inside bc he's like 'wait what's the right and wrong thing to say'. - following that, i feel like when he's in a casual conversation w/ ppl and starts getting panicked, i feel like he's learned to tap his cane twice on the ground to signal to any of his closer companions that he's freaking out. like a "get me out of this situation please" type deal. - this ties into my belief that he's got anxiety regarding smaller scale things. like if he makes a small mistake on something or breaks an object, he feels SO BAD and panics as he tries to figure out how to fix it. - knowing this, i feel like he feels a bunch of emotions, he just doesn't know how to like,,, put them into words? read below - a yearning for learning,,,, actively seeks out how to label his emotions, but how does one define their feelings? Emotions are not equated to logic, and yet they're a part of human experience, so what is the method to label that which is so intangible yet so real? he doesn't know yet, but he's figuring it out and i'm so proud of him :)c - overprotective in his own way. like he's been putting a lot of stuff on his shoulders so ofc that includes him being sensitive towards people he cares about being harmed. - prideful! he doesn't think he's prideful, he just is Proud Of Things, but tbh i get a bit of a "dragon pride" vibe from him. it's silly goofy and rears up the most around certain Archons. - GOOD DAD. NEUVI IS SUCH A GOOD DAD. IF A MELUSINE COMES UP TO HIM TO TALK ABT A THING, HE IS THE MOST ATTENTIVE LISTENER. HE'LL ASK QUESTIONS, TOO, TO TRY AND LEARN MORE. oUGH i love him he's SUCH a gOOD DAD - afraid of losing everything; Neuvi didn't really realize he had so much to lose until he almost lost it, and now he's like even more scared to lose anything else. - anxious of closer connections. Neuvi wants to be closer to people; he really likes humanity, and he wants to reach out to people. but he's afraid, bc if they ever err away from the side of justice, they may end up in his court. no matter what happens, then, is him sentencing them not a form of betrayal? neuvi ponders this a lot - MOVING AWAY FROM SAD THINGS: y'all i'll be SO real, ppl are so used to Neuvillette being in Fontaine that, when he's Outside of Fontaine, unless they Know Him on a personal level, no one recognizes that he's the Iudex of Fontaine. like not even actual Fontainians register it, bc, like, why would the literal Iudex Leave his Natural Habitat of the Court of Fontaine??? - side note, average ppl are intimidated by him. like most ppl look at him and go 'if i approach him, i will be arrested for war crimes bc CLEARLY he is a PRINCE' (which is the best and funniest shit) - 'unrelated'; Neuvi doesn't talk to a lot of ppl outside of his closer friend group, i think u can understand why - such a hard worker,,, honestly probably overworks himself and doesn't even realize it. - WHICH LEADS ME TO HIS HOBBIES HEHEHHEHEHEHE - ARTIST,,, you CANNOT sit there, after Lantern Rite, and TELL ME that HE DOES NOT start looking into the arts. THIS MAN would ABSOLUTELY get into painting and poetry and shit. he likes watercolors and he ADORES POTTERY (THAT FUCKING LADLE??? I CRIED OVER IT IN MY TEAPOT FOR 30 MINUTES HELP) - loves books and stories. like seriously they're kinda actually really fun for him to read bc he sits and breaks down what is and isn't accurate abt them (crime/detective books) and he gets invested in romance books (he's CURIOUS okay??) - bc he reads Fontainian romance books, any and every romantic gesture is like,,, awkwardly sappy? like he'll do small scale things bc he's a lil nervous baby, but it's THE SAPPIEST of the sappy. - fashion lover. Listen, this man could arguably wear whatever he wants and he chose to wear THAT???? he's a fashion lover / makeup master, and i will die on this hill. - he would laugh at Cyno's jokes, but only AFTER Cyno explains them.

OKAY I,,, I THINK I DID IT,,, i had so much written i'm dying please i love him so so so much. my itty bitty squishy bbgrl i cannot wait to explain why and how he joined the party / poly it's SO silly, this entire thing is my favorite i have been yapping abt them for a MILLENIA

[daybreakrising]

@ccaptain: ' i thought about what to gift you for a while... well, aside from my presence, ' thanks to his 'emergency trip' to fontaine, kaeya was able to make it to the nation of hydro for his beau's birthday. now, comfortably sat on his desk ( after mercifully putting away the very organized papers that used to lay where his bottom is now, ) the cavalry captain hums and slips something he managed to hide right under Wriothesley's desk- and very smoothly, he may add.

there's a kiss delivered to the Duke's cheek, and impatient hands push a rather large package in his lap. ' after you open it, tell me that i'm a genius of gifts,' he purrs, delighted.

inside the package? well, it's a pair of gray and black boxing gloves, with just a touch of cerulean wrapping around the wrist support. brand new, the leather immaculate, the inside of it made of soft and sturdy material to completely and comfortably keep his hands both safe and supported as they'll impact on someone's body. ' they're customized just for you, ' that's when the smugness turns bashful, pale diamond averts with a small smile.

' i thought you might need them- yours must be pretty worn out, by now... '

Kaeya himself is gift enough - his presence here for this otherwise unremarkable day was something he never expected, so he already considers himself spoiled. He'd be perfectly happy enough just to spend the day with him, to indulge in him, to savour every second, every inch-

-but then a gift is pressed into his hands, and Kaeya looks so smug about it that his curiosity is immediately spiked. The fact he managed to sneak it in here without him seeing is certainly something to be proud of. Then again... he is so easily distracted when this unfairly pretty man is in front of him.

"You really didn't have to-," the wrapping is torn away, snatching his words with it.

This gift is... perfect. He thinks of his current pair, now years old, the leather cracked and peeling, worn in and loved but definitely looking worse for wear. It's something he's been meaning to replace for a while, but never quite found the time.

"Mon coeur..." He carefully sets the gloves aside, his chest fit to burst with a swell of emotion he cannot keep down. It's so thoughtful, so meaningful. His hands grasp the cavalry captain's hips and tug him, swiftly, into his lap. His lips claim the other's in a kiss that conveys the gratitude, the love, every emotion he feels but cannot put words to, overwhelmed once again by this incredible man who, for some reason, chooses to love him.

"You are, indeed, a genius of gifts." A soft murmur against Kaeya's lips, his own curving into a tender smile. "And I love you for it."

[genshin-impacted]

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (2)

Word Count: 1.8k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy.

Notes: female + Princess!Reader, Teacher!Zhongli, mutual pining, fake politics, Zhongli POV

xiansheng - Chinese honorific translated to as “person born before another,” also used as a title to refer to persons of authority or skills; generally used to mean “teacher”

[Previous] [Next]

Zhongli’s duties as the Princess’ tutor, as spoken by the head noble-- a man who seemed to always have a sneer on his face-- was to fully and completely reeducate the Princess. He understands now why his room is so close to yours considering how they have asked him to spend the majority of your day with him-- and vice versa. You seem to take this schedule in stride, listening to his lectures with an apt mind and following whatever lessons he brings throughout the day, regardless of familiarity or novelty.

But you are quiet, and as appreciative as Zhongli is at a rapt audience, he knows you have more to say than what you are giving-- but he understands. Zhongli can’t imagine not having a moment of solidarity when the presence of others can be so oppressive in the face of grief. In the middle of his afternoon lessons, he excuses himself and allows you to have a break. He knows he has decided well when you shoot him a grateful smile and when he sees you deflate the moment he closes the sliding door.

“Has she not been raised as a Princess for her whole life?” He asks the noble politely as they walk down the long outdoor hallways of the palace. He had been called to meet up with him on his way to court with the intentions to review the Princess’s progress, only it seems as though the head noble had no intentions of listening. “Surely, there is no need for me to go so extensively into that sector of education," he presses.

The noble sighs. “Mr. Zhongli, with all due respect, the girl--” Zhongli can feel his brows raise at the lack of title used-- “...has never been properly prepared for the possibility to become the Empress. She was one of the last ones in line to inherit the throne, so no one thought she could amount to anything. Surely, you’ve seen the way she acts?” The noble lifts his round silk fan to his face, and Zhongli, despite all his efforts to not feel disdain for the callous noble, feels his patience wear thin. “It was such a surprise, you see, to all of us when that tragedy hit, but alas, she’s the only one left.”

“I see,” Zhongli replies coolly. “And so you would have me follow her and scrutinize her every action to make her fit to rule?”

If the noble took heed of his frosty tone, he does not react to it. Instead, he looks at Zhongli coyly from behind his fan. “I assure you, it will be best for both you and me to have her reeducated. To an extent.” The noble says, “I assume you know what I’m referring to? You’re an intelligent man, Mr. Zhongli. You come from a good family and know much of the world… but you could always, ah, possess more.”

“Knowledge is power, as I am sure you are aware,” he says, chuckling. Zhongli watches in silence as the noble walks away, waving a flippant hand. “Be sure to take care not to provide her with too much, Mr. Zhongli, and perhaps I’ll refer you to a different title someday.”

.

.

.

When Guizhong was chosen to become a lady of another country, Zhongli felt, for the first time in many, that perhaps there was more to life than a constant grapple for power and the legacy that it would lead. She had not wanted to leave as much as he did not want her to go, but he did not understand then that he held power in his mind and in his own actions to change the path in which his path would lead.

Despite his disdain for the lies and trickery involved with the power struggle, Zhongli knows he will keep his promise to his father to uphold his family honor. He has always been a man of his words, for he bound himself into fulfilling them as though they are contracts.

But as he watches the head noble disappear behind the court doors, Zhongli wonders if that is all he is capable of.

When he thinks of Guizhong-- when he thinks of you, who has lost so much and could lose so much more, he thinks that for how your world seems to be against you, he wants to be someone on your side of the ring-- despite how everyone pressures for the opposite. Zhongli does not know if he deserves it, but he wishes to have your trust. He has yet to know how to truly support you, but he wants to provide you the freedom of choice if he can-- even in the smallest of ways.

And so he gives you freedom in the only way he knows how.

“What would you like to learn about today?” Zhongli asks you the next day as the two of you walk quietly to the study room. He can’t help the smile on his face when you turn to him in poorly-hidden surprise. Despite how you may act in front of the nobles whom he knows has an ill-opinion of you as you of them, you cannot help the emotions that come to the surface. He thinks himself lucky, if he were honest, to know that he is at least in your favor enough for you to let down your guard to give him a glimpse of the Princess he had seen not a fortnight ago.

To this date, he has only seen you be as such with your lady-in-waiting, Amber, but he knows that in his presence, he has only barely scratched the surface to the depth of your relationship and personality.

“What would I like to learn about?” You repeat, looking out into the garden in thought. “I’m not sure,” you say, turning to him. “What do you want to teach me?”

Zhongli blinks. “Pardon?”

At his confusion, you laugh, and Zhongli cannot help how his chest flutters at your sound of joy, for how far off it seemed that you would ever express that again. Just when he thought he could not be surprised, you tilt your head and smile teasingly at him. “You and I both know that the nobles are the ones that have been controlling my schedule for the past week. I want to know what you would want to teach me personally.”

Zhongli feels his cheeks warm at the tone of your voice. “Princess, I--” His father would be horrified at his lack of composure, but Zhongli cannot afford to think of his family and their expectations when you look up at him expectantly without an ounce of impatience. He clears his throat and thinks deeply, much to your amusement, putting his hand to his chin. “I suppose… I suppose I could provide you the history of the glaze lilies that the garden has in abundance?” He says, watching as your eyes soften, “They’re quite remarkable-- able to bloom in a night and gone in the next, some even saying they possess a different scent if you sing to them.”

“I agree with them, whoever said singing to them creates a different scent,” you say, looking out into the garden by the bamboo where three glaze lilies lay unbloomed. “If you sing the Liyuen lullaby to them, it produces a very soft fragrance-- almost like baby powder.” You turn to him and smile. “They were my mother’s favorite,” you explain gently. “She always sang and picked one for me to keep in my room.”

Zhongli lowers his head in respect. “My apologies, Princess, I didn't mean to bring up such personal topics."

“No, no! Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, laughing. “It’s fine. It’s nice to think of something nice like that.” You brush your hair behind your ears, and if there was a nostalgic lilt to your voice, he does not throw attention to it. “I like it,” you say, “please continue. I’m curious about the glaze lily’s history.”  

And what was Zhongli to do for the Princess if not to continue?

Zhongli doesn’t know if you have committed his every word to memory, or whether you remember anything in regards to the dates he provided (you are terrible with dates, he has found out, much to your embarrassment; but much like everything he knows of you, he finds it endearing). But he watches as you walk through the garden with him, the most at peace he has ever seen you, and he continues to speak.

And Zhongli lets his voice rid of the garden of silence, your thoughtful hums and soft laughter as accompaniment. Soon enough, though, the sun sets and the stars begin to shine, and Zhongli leads you to your room where you will be served dinner.

You thank him for the lesson, and he nods gracefully, his hand upon his chest. When he raises his head, you are still smiling at him. (He thinks abruptly that he would like to keep that smile on your face, if only for a moment, and the next words tumble from his mouth.)

“If you are looking for a place by the sea,” he says, remembering your words from before, “‘where the wind blows and the earth is clean,’ then I believe that I shall make our lesson on that the next time we find ourselves free.”

You blink up at him, eyes wide-- lips parted as though awestruck until they widen into the kindest smile he has ever seen on you.

“Yes,” you say softly, “that sounds lovely. Thank you.”

Zhongli lowers his head again in respect, swallowing at the magnitude of your magnanimity. “Of course, Princess.”

He expects to be dismissed, but instead he hears you ask, “Would you like to join me for dinner, xiansheng?”

Zhongli wonders how many times a person can bewilder him one day. “Pardon me?”

“I’m asking if you, Zhongli xiansheng,” you say with a now-familiar lilt of amusement, “would like to eat with the Princess.” You laugh when he stands, tall as he is, gaping at you. “You can say no. I won’t take offense. Promise.”

And he thinks to himself that as generous as you are to offer him the option to deny your request, he doesn’t know if he ever would have.

Dinner consisted of the finest foods: Peking duck, the freshest peaches of Fontaine, the grains of Qingce Village, and bamboo soup that would have put his personal chef to shame. It is custom of the Princess to sit from a table distant from him, but in the confines of your inner chambers, you sit right in front of him, placing dishes in front of him for him to try. (Zhongli has a feeling you would pile food onto his bowl if you could.)

He has the delight of not only enjoying the foods you have offered but also the sight of your smiling countenance for the remainder of that night. And for once, he feels as though he has taken the reins on his own life-- for the better.

(He only hopes he can keep holding on.)

[kryptsune]

Till Death Do You Part {Part 1} (UF Frans)

🌼Hummm I wonder why this is getting reposted with fully new edits. Could there be a reason I wonder?~ 

It was common for a girl such as herself to be betrothed to another even if she didn't know of him truly. A frightening prospect to promise your life to someone you had never met. Someone she knew so little of. Tonight was the night that they would meet and speak weeks before they would pledge themselves to one another. Just thinking about it made her nervous, hands fiddling with the fabric of her dress gently. Any moment now. 

 She was made up to look the most beautiful she had ever before but even then she was anxious, a shy and timid thing. Her auburn hair was styled in ringlets by her face amongst the bright ruby of a satin dress. Why had her father arranged such a thing? Wasn’t love the most important feeling? What if that was a luxury should would never be able to afford?

The young Lord yawned as he adjusted his cufflinks, going through the motions as always. He figured she would be just another pretty face, no mind to stimulate him, "I give her a month..." he murmured to himself before setting out for his first meeting. She was pretty, of course, and he always played the handsome and charismatic young suitor, "You must be the oh so lovely Lady Frisk."

Frisk didn't know who or what to expect as she twirled slowly to see whose baritone voice was addressing her. Was this him? The young lady picked up her dress taking a little curtsey out of respect. It was the proper greeting for a lady, "Yes Sire, though such flattery is not necessary. Frisk will do just fine." She had beautiful sparkling blue eyes like dazzling sapphires and a smile warm like the first rays of the morning sun.

She watched as he took a sweeping bow, "I would be your betrothed, Lord Red Fontaine." His hand extended out to her desiring the feeling of her own, "My... your beauty is astounding, I do not flatter my dear, there's no necessity for it.” 

Well, he certainly was the charmer, “Forgive me, my Lord. I was uncertain and a lady should never assume. I thank you but I must confess my own thoughts on the matter, beauty only runs so deep. There are far more important qualities in a person.” She gingerly slipped her hand into his own. This was a gesture that most male suitors practiced at the time. The true test for her was his reaction to her confession. 

He lifted that dainty pale hand, brushing his lips over the skin. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he laid on his almost supernatural charm, "Quite right my dear. Beauty fades overtime, but the mind...oh the mind is wondrous in what it can do...It is a true rarity to find both qualities." She was different from the other pretty faces he had charmed over the centuries. Something told him this was going to be quite interesting. 

Most men she had conversed with wanted dull and shallow girls, all things which she was not. That gentle kiss he laid on her hand did cause her cheeks to warm in a sweet pink glow, “Such a refreshing perspective my Lord. I am used to dulling the mind in pursuit of shallow appeals. As you can see I do not hold my tongue.” It was better, to be honest about who she was then proclaim a temperament that she could not uphold.

He could not contain the smirk that twisted his mouth, perhaps she would prove to be a challenge nearly after 400 plus years, "Indeed, I too find your outlook refreshing. It's so rare to see a young lady of the times actually use the mind they possess." His voice was soft as he pulled her closer to him.

Cobalt eyes locked with his as she was brought close enough to feel the velvet of his suit. She considered him swoon-worthy, a gentleman, and he agreed with her view of intellectual stimulation. A rarity if she ever knew one. Her nerves fluttered away, “It is unfortunate. I hope that I do not disappoint. I must confess my nerves have been keeping my attention all day until this point."

One of her many distinguishing features were those eyes that held a vibrancy to them that he hadn’t seen in all his centuries, "As they should... After all, women are expected to bow and behave for their men." He gave a boisterous laugh and waved a hand dismissively, "Bah with that. I want my bride to be herself. Something I suspect you'll do, won't you?"

She seemed like such a sweet little thing. Usually, the ones he chose were vain or dim-witted. They jumped on him as soon as they saw his looks but not her, "A good mindset to have my dear, come let us take a walk and speak more." All he got was that sweet smile and those gemstone eyes filled with newfound curiosity and excitement, “I can only ever be true to myself, my Lord. Nothing more.”

He smiled at her agreement, endeavouring to know her fully and of course more playing to what she liked, but he found he had to lie less around her, "Truly, I've had a wonderful time my dear. I look forward to our wedding and future life."

Frisk was the happiest she had ever been because of his genuineness. She wasn’t quite sure if she loved him but he made her smile and treated her like a human being, not just some prize to be won or a doll to display, “As do I.” That genuine smile practically caused her face to glow.

He kissed her forehead chastely knowing full well he had to play his hand sweetly for now. The young bride to be couldn’t deny his sweet forehead kiss was enough to melt her as his hand slipped from hers. There was no doubt that she was smitten with him. His voice was that baritone that would cause one’s knees to weaken, "Wondrous my dear, I shall see you quite soon~"

As he always intended of course. He left her soon after dropping her off back at her home, slipping into the shadows as he returned to his own estate. His mind wandered as he strolled past the lamps posted at every street corner, their flames bright behind their glass cases. As with every game they played he would relay his findings to his two older brothers. They would exchange their progress and in turn joke about their victim’s coming demise.

His return home prompted a sit down by the roaring fire and a glass of wine as he let them speak. Carthus, the second eldest, reclined upon the ornate fainting couch that rested to the right of the main sitting area. The eldest, Gered, took a seat to his right.

The conversation left him at odds even as he barely processed to the words that slipped from his mouth. His two brothers on the other hand reveled in the drab game they had been toying with for more lifetimes than he cared to count.

Carthus smugly teased his younger brother with her potential thoughts of him as the moon rose to cast its silver light upon the land. The beams slipped through windows casting a somewhat eerie glow within the room. He of course had no such worries of the dark but what about her? He could just hear his brothers mockery about how hypnotized by him she probably was, "Honestly brother what do you think she will taste like?~" 

Despite his emotional confusion he placed a smirk on his face, leaning back, and taking a sip from the wine glass cradled in between his fingers, "She is rather spirited and I believe pure as well. A rarity. It did not take much to have her wrapped around my finger, brother, but you are well aware of what I am capable of." The smirk forced on his lips grew as he spoke, “I believe this time that the game shall be won by me. My bride to be will be easy to please~”

Gered chuckled from his place closest to the flames, "We shall certainly see. I cannot wait to see how this game will come to a close... of course, we shall see how our lovely ladies stack up when the time comes to evaluate."

Carthus was back to his teasing, leaning forward to make a point of it, "I cannot wait to see the look on her face when she finds out what you really are in her last moments of life." It caused him to pause. What would she think of him regardless of the outcome? No mortal had survived to tell others about the brothers. They usually lasted a few months once the wedding vows were finished.

He cleared his throat to respond to his brother’s rather sadistic humor, "Oh it will be quite sweet I assure you." The three laughed in unison as they toasted to their manipulative vice, “Their faces are always precious right before you devour them~" If he was honest he did not even remember most of them. They were a meal and nothing more. Those blue eyes, however, stuck with him even now.

The following day he would meet with her again though the visit was more of a surprise to her. He found her lounging beneath the shade of an old tree and drawing silently. A few sticks of charcoal were scattered about the lush grasses at her feet. 

He put on his best smile as he drew a single red rose from his coat pocket and dangled it in front of her sight, "Good morning my dear one."

She blinked in surprise, that soft flush painting her cheeks, "Good morning. You took me by surprise for a moment. I am overjoyed to see you again so soon." Truly she never felt so affectionate toward another before. Her smile only grew when he took a seat beside her, "As am I my dear, I simply could not wait to see you once more."

Though her joy was genuine she still retained doubts in her mind. The idea of an arranged union was not one that usually ended happily. She gently set her book aside as she smiled at him sadly, "Is such a thing true? I wish for you to be honest with me and I shall do the same.”

Red inclined his head for a moment before brushing his fingers over the soft, cool skin of her shoulder only to find a strand of long auburn hair to toy with, "I am being honest with you my dear, that certainly seems an odd request. Do you think I am only telling you sweet words that you expect to hear?" That was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. 

Frisk looked out over the water as her pink lips curled upward. A smile but one filled with sadness. He had rarely seen such an expression on such a pretty face before, “I apologize. I must keep a healthy skepticism. My heart flutters when you are near and yet it feels too good to be true.” Maybe that was because it was.

How to assuage her concerns? He truly did not know how to do so since he was the root of the deception, "Ahh I see." His back came to rest on the tree behind him as he made himself more comfortable, "I can see why... to potentially find one that we belong with. It's an amazing feeling I think. It truly feels as if nothing else matters."

The look still painted on her face gave off that aura of doubt. He could usually sweet-talk his way out of anything but she was far too sharp to fall too easily for his floral language and sweet promises. Her eyes now remained trained on the ground, “I fear I do not deserve something so wonderful.”

A comment like that shocked him. It was baffling, "why ever not my dear?" Curiosity swam within his eyes as he moved to tilt her chin up. What a sweet and pretty thing she was, so fragile and yet so strong at the same time.

“I am cursed for what runs in my blood is dark. A power unnatural and forbidden.”

A curious response, "Oh? What might that be my dear?" Forbidden? Dark? Unnatural? What could she possibly harbor that would lead her to believe that she deserved ill-fortune? The irony was that he was the worst omen she could have possibly received. 

Her lips parted as she kept her attention on her betrothed, letting the word linger on the soft breeze that lifted her hair, “magic.”

A mortal with access to magic? A mage? A witch? She was rare indeed in more ways than he originally anticipated. Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to her, "Magic?" His tone housed a sufficient amount of curiosity and he wondered if now he had to be more careful. If the power of the mages slept within her blood then even his own abilities may not work on her. 

She nodded softly, “Yes. It’s a part of me and it feels right and beautiful but... it’s known as something evil.” A lie she had been told nearly the entirety of her life.

As an immortal being infected by dark magic himself he knew that all too well. His past was far from joyous, "Magic.. is one of those things people will..." He sighed pulling her closer to him. How much would he be able to tell her without implicating his rather... bloodthirsty condition? She deserved some form of comfort, "The things that people do not fully understand become a threat. Even if such a thing is no more harmful than the smallest butterfly.”

He truly understood her even better than she could have hoped, “Something that they do not understand they seek to destroy or punish. Even something frightening does not mean it is evil or has ill intentions.” Her eyes fluttered open as her hands began to glow softly, when she opened them there was a small illuminated blue flower nestled in the center of her palm.

He smiled, letting a gentle finger stroke one of the magical petals, "Magic can be beautiful... It can be deadly. It is like a sword. It depends upon how you use it."

Her cheeks darkened further as he spoke, "That is what I believe as well. It is hard to try and hide who I truly am. I fear no one would understand or be afraid of me. It's why no one truly knows but when I am around you I feel as though I can speak my truth. Forgive me."

His hands reached for hers closing them around that luminescent blossom, "There is no need for forgiveness my dear. You need not hide anything of yourself from me. For I hide nothing from you." He smiled at her. Why did he care what she thought?

She scooted a little closer to him as his arm came to wrap around her as he held her closer to him. That gentle breeze soothed her as she enjoyed the afternoon. He would be able to feel how much joy she got from just being in his company, "I have been very lucky. Perhaps this is not a curse after all.”

He had a desire to say more but he kept his words simple, comforting, “Of course it is not. It is a natural part of you that should be nurtured not diminished. You shall never have to fear such judgment from me.” For I am something far worse.

Frisk rested her head gently against his shoulder feeling free from whatever chains kept her prisoner before, “I know. No one has ever looked at me the way you do it’s...” She toyed with the hands resting in her lap, “Nice to know you accept me for who I am.”

He smiled. "Of course I will Frisk. You are quite wonderful.”

She rested there in silence with him. It was so peaceful and all the following days were the same. They both began to know each other better just by speaking their minds. She even practiced some magic when they were alone so that she no longer lived in fear of it.

When the day of the wedding arrived everything seemed to go by smoothly. She had been nervous at first but the moment she said "I do" he could see it was one of the happiest moments of her life.

In the depths of his mind, he thought it was the dumbest choice she could ever have made, but his face remained with an overjoyed smile, exactly what was expected.

Even...perhaps...

When he pulled her toward him for the kiss that would seal their vows, he felt something. This was far more than just a childish game of superiority. She could be different and then this wretched cycle could end. 

Until death do us part

There was only one problem...

Death... had already parted them…

[thefortyeightlawsofpower-blog]

LAW # 16 : USE ABSENCE TO INCREASE RESPECT AND HONOR

JUDGEMENT

Too much circulation makes the price go down: The more you are seen and heard from, the more common you appear. If you are already established in a group, temporary withdrawal from it will make you more talked about, even more admired. You must learn when to leave. Create value through scarcity.

TRANSGRESSION AND OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW

Sir Guillaume de Balaun was a troubadour who roamed the South of France in the Middle Ages, going from castle to castle, reciting poetry, and playing the perfect knight. At the castle of Javiac he met and fell in love with the beautiful lady of the house, Madame Guillelma de Javiac. He sang her his songs, recited his poetry, played chess with her, and little by little she in turn fell in love with him. Guillaume had a friend, Sir Pierre de Barjac, who traveled with him and who was also received at the castle. And Pierre too fell in love with a lady in Javiac, the gracious but temperamental Viernetta.

THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS

The first man who saw a camel fled; The second ventured within distance; The third dared slip a halter round its head. Familiarity in this existence Makes all things tame, for what may seem Terrible or bizarre, when once our eyes Have had time to acclimatize, Becomes quite commonplace. Since I’m on this theme, I’ve heard of sentinels posted by the shore Who, spotting something far-away afloat, Couldn’t resist the shout: “A sail! A sail! A mighty man-of-war!” Five minutes later it’s a packet boat, And then a skiff, and then a bale, And finally some sticks bobbing about. I know of plenty such To whom this story applies—People whom distance magnifies, Who, close to, don’t amount to much.

SELECTED FABLES, JEAN DE LA FONTAINE, 1621-1695

Then one day Pierre and Viernetta had a violent quarrel. The lady dismissed him, and he sought out his friend Guillaume to help heal the breach and get him back in her good graces. Guillaume was about to leave the castle for a while, but on his return, several weeks later, he worked his magic, and Pierre and the lady were reconciled. Pierre felt that his love had increased tenfold—that there was no stronger love, in fact, than the love that follows reconciliation. The stronger and longer the disagreement, he told Guillaume, the sweeter the feeling that comes with peace and rapprochement.

As a troubadour, Sir Guillaume prided himself on experiencing all the joys and sorrows of love. On hearing his friend’s talk, he too wanted know the bliss of reconciliation after a quarrel. He therefore feigned great anger with Lady Guillelma, stopped sending her love letters, and abruptly left the castle and stayed away, even during the festivals and hunts. This drove the young lady wild.

Guillelma sent messengers to Guillaume to find out what had happened, but he turned the messengers away. He thought all this would make her angry, forcing him to plead for reconciliation as Pierre had. Instead, however, his absence had the opposite effect: It made Guillelma love him all the more. Now the lady pursued her knight, sending messengers and love notes of her own. This was almost unheard of—a lady never pursued her troubadour. And Guillaume did not like it. Guillelma’s forwardness made him feel she had lost some of her dignity. Not only was he no longer sure of his plan, he was no longer sure of his lady.

Finally, after several months of not hearing from Guillaume, Guillelma gave up. She sent him no more messengers, and he began to wonder—perhaps she was angry? Perhaps the plan had worked after all? So much the better if she was. He would wait no more—it was time to reconcile. So he put on his best robe, decked the horse in its fanciest caparison, chose a magnificent helmet, and rode off to Javiac.

On hearing that her beloved had returned, Guillelma rushed to see him, knelt before him, dropped her veil to kiss him, and begged forgiveness for whatever slight had caused his anger. Imagine his confusion and despair—his plan had failed abysmally. She was not angry, she had never been angry, she was only deeper in love, and he would never experience the joy of reconciliation after a quarrel. Seeing her now, and still desperate to taste that joy, he decided to try one more time: He drove her away with harsh words and threatening gestures. She left, this time vowing never to see him again.

The next morning the troubadour regretted what he had done. He rode back to Javiac, but the lady would not receive him, and ordered her servants to chase him away, across the drawbridge and over the hill. Guillaume fled. Back in his chamber he collapsed and started to cry: He had made a terrible mistake. Over the next year, unable to see his lady, he experienced the absence, the terrible absence, that can only inflame love. He wrote one of his most beautiful poems, “My song ascends for mercy praying.” And he sent many letters to Guillelma, explaining what he had done, and begging forgiveness.

After a great deal of this, Lady Guillelma, remembering his beautiful songs, his handsome figure, and his skills in dancing and falconry, found herself yearning to have him back. As penance for his cruelty, she ordered him to remove the nail from the little finger of his right hand, and to send it to her along with a poem describing his miseries.

He did as she asked. Finally Guillaume de Balaun was able to taste the ultimate sensation—a reconciliation even surpassing that of his friend Pierre.

THE VIRTUES OF THE COCK

While serving under the Duke Ai of Lu, T‘ien Jao, resenting his obscure position, said to his master, “I am going to wander far away like a snow goose.” 

“What do you mean by that?” inquired the Duke. 

“Do you see the cock?” said T��ien Jao in reply. “Its crest is a symbol of civility; its powerful talons suggest strength; its daring to fight any enemy denotes courage; its instinct to invite others whenever food is obtained shows benevolence; and, last but not least, its punctuality in keeping the time through the night gives us an example of veracity. In spite. however, of these five virtues, the cock is daily killed to fill a dish on your table. Why? The reason is that it is found within our reach. On the other hand, the snow goose traverses in one flight a thousand li. Resting in your garden, it preys on your fishes and turtles and pecks your millet. Though devoid of any of the cock’s five virtues, yet you prize this bird for the sake of its scarcity. This being so, I shall fly far like a snow goose.”

ANCIENT CHINESE PARABLES, YU HSIU SEN, ED., 1974

Interpretation

Trying to discover the joys of reconciliation, Guillaume de Balaun inadvertently experienced the truth of the law of absence and presence. At the start of an affair, you need to heighten your presence in the eyes of the other. If you absent yourself too early, you may be forgotten. But once your lover’s emotions are engaged, and the feeling of love has crystallized, absence inflames and excites. Giving no reason for your absence excites even more: The other person assumes he or she is at fault. While you are away, the lover’s imagination takes flight, and a stimulated imagination cannot help but make love grow stronger. Conversely, the more Guillelma pursued Guillaume, the less he loved her—she had become too present, too accessible, leaving no room for his imagination and fancy, so that his feelings were suffocating. When she finally stopped sending messengers, he was able to breathe again, and to return to his plan.

What withdraws, what becomes scarce, suddenly seems to deserve our respect and honor. What stays too long, inundating us with its presence, makes us disdain it. In the Middle Ages, ladies were constantly putting their knights through trials of love, sending them on some long and arduous quest—all to create a pattern of absence and presence. Indeed, had Guillaume not left his lady in the first place, she might have been forced to send him away, creating an absence of her own.

Absence diminishes minor passions and inflames great ones, as the wind douses a candle and fans a fire.

La Rochefoucauld, 1613-1680

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW

For many centuries the Assyrians ruled upper Asia with an iron fist. In the eighth century B.C., however, the people of Medea (now northwestern Iran) revolted against them, and finally broke free. Now the Medes had to establish a new government. Determined to avoid any form of despotism, they refused to give ultimate power to any one man, or to establish a monarchy. Without a leader, however, the country soon fell into chaos, and fractured into small kingdoms, with village fighting against village.

In one such village lived a man named Deioces, who began to make a name for himself for fair dealing and the ability to settle disputes.

He did this so successfully, in fact, that soon any legal conflict in the area was brought to him, and his power increased. Throughout the land, the law had fallen into disrepute—the judges were corrupt, and no one entrusted their cases to the courts any more, resorting to violence instead. When news spread of Deioces’ wisdom, incorruptibility, and unshakable impartiality, Medean villages far and wide turned to him to settle all manner of cases. Soon he became the sole arbiter of justice in the land.

At the height of his power, Deioces suddenly decided he had had enough. He would no longer sit in the chair of judgement, would hear no more suits, settle no more disputes between brother and brother, village and village. Complaining that he was spending so much time dealing with other people’s problems that he had neglected his own affairs, he retired. The country once again descended into chaos. With the sudden withdrawal of a powerful arbiter like Deioces, crime increased, and contempt for the law was never greater. The Medes held a meeting of all the villages to decide how to get out of their predicament. “We cannot continue to live in this country under these conditions,” said one tribal leader. “Let us appoint one of our number to rule so that we can live under orderly government, rather than losing our homes altogether in the present chaos.”

And so, despite all that the Medes had suffered under the Assyrian despotism, they decided to set up a monarchy and name a king. And the man they most wanted to rule, of course, was the fair-minded Deioces. He was hard to convince, for he wanted nothing more to do with the villages’ in-fighting and bickering, but the Medes begged and pleaded—without him the country had descended into a state of lawlessness. Deioces finally agreed.

Yet he also imposed conditions. An enormous palace was to be constructed for him, he was to be provided with bodyguards, and a capital city was to be built from which he could rule. All of this was done, and Deioces settled into his palace. In the center of the capital, the palace was surrounded by walls, and completely inaccessible to ordinary people. Deioces then established the terms of his rule: Admission to his presence was forbidden. Communication with the king was only possible through messengers. No one in the royal court could see him more than once a week, and then only by permission.

Deioces ruled for fifty-three years, extended the Medean empire, and established the foundation for what would later be the Persian empire, under his great-great-grandson Cyrus. During Deioces’ reign, the people’s respect for him gradually turned into a form of worship: He was not a mere mortal, they believed, but the son of a god.

Interpretation

Deioces was a man of great ambition. He determined early on that the country needed a strong ruler, and that he was the man for the job.

In a land plagued with anarchy, the most powerful man is the judge and arbiter. So Deioces began his career by making his reputation as a man of impeccable fairness.

At the height of his power as a judge, however, Deioces realized the truth of the law of absence and presence: By serving so many clients, he had become too noticeable, too available, and had lost the respect he had earlier enjoyed. People were taking his services for granted. The only way to regain the veneration and power he wanted was to withdraw completely, and let the Medes taste what life was like without him. As he expected, they came begging for him to rule.

Once Deioces had discovered the truth of this law, he carried it to its ultimate realization. In the palace his people had built for him, none could see him except a few courtiers, and those only rarely. As Herodotus wrote, “There was a risk that if they saw him habitually, it might lead to jealousy and resentment, and plots would follow; but if nobody saw him, the legend would grow that he was a being of a different order from mere men.”

A man said to a Dervish: “Why do I not see you more often?” The Dervish replied, “Because the words ‘Why have you not been to see me?’ are sweeter to my ear than the words ‘Why have you come again?”’

Mulla jami, quoted in ldries Shah’s Caravan of Dreams, 1968

KEYS TO POWER

Everything in the world depends on absence and presence. A strong presence will draw power and attention to you—you shine more brightly than those around you. But a point is inevitably reached where too much presence creates the opposite effect: The more you are seen and heard from, the more your value degrades. You become a habit. No matter how hard you try to be different, subtly, without your knowing why, people respect you less and less. At the right moment you must learn to withdraw yourself before they unconsciously push you away. It is a game of hide-and-seek.

The truth of this law can most easily be appreciated in matters of love and seduction. In the beginning stages of an affair, the lover’s absence stimulates your imagination, forming a sort of aura around him or her. But this aura fades when you know too much—when your imagination no longer has room to roam. The loved one becomes a person like anyone else, a person whose presence is taken for granted. This is why the seventeenth-century French courtesan Ninon de Lenclos advised constant feints at withdrawal from one’s lover. “Love never dies of starvation,” she wrote, “but often of indigestion.”

The moment you allow yourself to be treated like anyone else, it is too late—you are swallowed and digested. To prevent this you need to starve the other person of your presence. Force their respect by threatening them with the possibility that they will lose you for good; create a pattern of presence and absence.

Once you die, everything about you will seem different. You will be surrounded by an instant aura of respect. People will remember their criticisms of you, their arguments with you, and will be filled with regret and guilt. They are missing a presence that will never return. But you do not have to wait until you die: By completely withdrawing for a while, you create a kind of death before death. And when you come back, it will be as if you had come back from the dead—an air of resurrection will cling to you, and people will be relieved at your return. This is how Deioces made himself king.

Napoleon was recognizing the law of absence and presence when he said, “If I am often seen at the theater, people will cease to notice me.” Today, in a world inundated with presence through the flood of images, the game of withdrawal is all the more powerful. We rarely know when to withdraw anymore, and nothing seems private, so we are awed by anyone who is able to disappear by choice. Novelists J. D. Salinger and Thomas Pynchon have created cultlike followings by knowing when to disappear.

Another, more everyday side of this law, but one that demonstrates its truth even further, is the law of scarcity in the science of economics. By withdrawing something from the market, you create instant value. In seventeenth-century Holland, the upper classes wanted to make the tulip more than just a beautiful flower—they wanted it to be a kind of status symbol. Making the flower scarce, indeed almost impossible to obtain, they sparked what was later called tulipomania. A single flower was now worth more than its weight in gold. In our own century, similarly, the art dealer Joseph Duveen insisted on making the paintings he sold as scarce and rare as possible. To keep their prices elevated and their status high, he bought up whole collections and stored them in his basement. The paintings that he sold became more than just paintings—they were fetish objects, their value increased by their rarity. “You can get all the pictures you want at fifty thousand dollars apiece—that’s easy,” he once said. “But to get pictures at a quarter of a million apiece—that wants doing!”

Image: The Sun. It can only be appreciated by its absence. The longer the days of rain, the more the sun is craved. But too many hot days and the sun overwhelms. Learn to keep yourself obscure and make people demand your return.

Extend the law of scarcity to your own skills. Make what you are offering the world rare and hard to find, and you instantly increase its value.

There always comes a moment when those in power overstay their welcome. We have grown tired of them, lost respect for them; we see them as no different from the rest of mankind, which is to say that we see them as rather worse, since we inevitably compare their current status in our eyes to their former one. There is an art to knowing when to retire. If it is done right, you regain the respect you had lost, and retain a part of your power.

The greatest ruler of the sixteenth century was Charles V. King of Spain, Hapsburg emperor, he governed an empire that at one point included much of Europe and the New World. Yet at the height of his power, in 1557, he retired to the monastery of Yuste. All of Europe was captivated by his sudden withdrawal; people who had hated and feared him suddenly called him great, and he came to be seen as a saint. In more recent times, the film actress Greta Garbo was never more admired than when she retired, in 1941. For some her absence came too soon—she was in her mid-thirties—but she wisely preferred to leave on her own terms, rather than waiting for her audience to grow tired of her.

Make yourself too available and the aura of power you have created around yourself will wear away. Turn the game around: Make yourself less accessible and you increase the value of your presence.

Authority: Use absence to create respect and esteem. If presence diminishes fame, absence augments it. A man who when absent is regarded as a lion becomes when present something com mon and ridiculous. Talents lose their luster if we become too familiar with them, for the outer shell of the mind is more readily seen than its rich inner kernel. Even the outstand ing genius makes use of retirement so that men may honor him and so that the yearning aroused by his absence may cause him to be esteemed. (Baltasar Gracián, 1601-1658)

REVERSAL

This law only applies once a certain level of power has been attained. The need to withdraw only comes after you have established your presence; leave too early and you do not increase your respect, you are simply forgotten. When you are first entering onto the world’s stage, create an image that is recognizable, reproducible, and is seen everywhere. Until that status is attained, absence is dangerous—instead of fanning the flames, it will extinguish them.

In love and seduction, similarly, absence is only effective once you have surrounded the other with your image, been seen by him or her everywhere. Everything must remind your lover of your presence, so that when you do choose to be away, the lover will always be thinking of you, will always be seeing you in his or her mind’s eye.

Remember: In the beginning, make yourself not scarce but omnipresent. Only what is seen, appreciated, and loved will be missed in its absence.

[orindasfinest]

TDFL PR W#1

Welcome to the first installment of the TouchDongers Foobaw Lig Power Rankings  yadda yadda this doesn’t really require any introduction – reading this is kind of like waking up in a virtual gulag in a Black Mirror episode. You can feign ignorance all you want, but you know deep down why you’re here, Mohamed Jetta.

I’m hosting this on tumblr because it’s barely more public than a google doc thanks to the porn ban that whisked away all my piss bookmarks just as I was starting to make real inroads on a new fetish. Thanks for nothing you Puritan technocrats. If the pageviews from this post give you 35 more cents in your next worthless sale I demand compensation in the form of 45 second clips of coeds soaking granite countertops.

Pay your league dues so I can indulge my second favorite fluffing pastime of mailing people ostentatious shit they don’t need. I’m accepting submissions for the name of the championship trophy. Current front-runner is The Shiny Hiney so you might want to get on that (and I’m not talking about scaling Griffin’s stark-white cracked mountainside prone to avalanches and civilian suffocation)

WITH PLENTY OF FAFFING ABOUT

10. Leaguema Balls (Dirty Mike)

Record: 0-1 | PF: 73 | PA: 167.7

Playing Next: Airstrip One Ezekiels Engels (Derv)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Living with the knowledge that he gave himself forehead welts

The only man in double digits for team score created a gulf between himself and the rest of the field almost as big as the space between his eyeballs. I’m not saying Mike’s squad is already done for, but on the heels of many players demanding trades from Miami after their week one demolition, Travis Kelce called his agent and said he wouldn’t do another mind-numbingly stupid McDonald’s commercial until he was cut loose to go play for another Dongers contender. Not only was this performance abysmal, but I can’t even label it an outlier because Devonta Freeman is now hurt and his 3 other major skill players are from the NFC North where points are harder to find than Josh Gordon’s 2 week AA chip.

9. Airstrip One Ezekiels Engels (Derv)

Record: 0-1 | PF: 120.9 | PA: 151.6

Playing Next: I just fukcing did this one

Questionable Decision of the Week: the Mets

Writing a summary of Derv’s fantasy prospects feels a lot like breaking the news to a wounded soldier that he’s had to have his dick amputated. Sure, you’re not technically dead, but what is there to live for? Derv has two good quarterbacks in a league where you can only start one, which marks the first and last time she’ll have two men vying for one of her slots. Zeke ended his holdout just in time to put up 12 points a game because Jerruh will be GOT DAMNED if he pays anyone an obscene amount of money and then has them succeed. Her best wide receiver made softcore porn with Pete Carroll. I’d rather read The Sun Also Rises again than keep looking at this roster to make any more jokes.

8. James White is Right (Tori)

Record: 0-1 | PF: 131.2 | PA: 173.4

Playing Next: The Queen’s Booty Lickers (Liv)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Thinking that being introverted is a substitute for a personality

Tori ran into a Clemson-scented buzzsaw this week and was really not at fault for the enormity of her loss, which is more than I can say about the fact that 85% of her Sundays vanish into her duvet cover because she got alcohol poisioning after gagging down 3 jello shots and looking at her bottle of listerine before she got into bed. That considered, though, she’s going to need Austin Ekeler to keep putting up 40-point games like he’s not a body double from ‘Honey, I Shrunk the Kids’ AND she’ll need Matt Ryan to learn what side of a football holds the white thingies for her to get any kind of consistent production going forward. Much like she would say about Sacramento being a gangrenous taint, “I just don’t see it.”

7. Sean’s Hard Mangos (sean)

Record: 0-1 | PF: 130.7 | PA: 136.2

Playing Next: Mark Ruffalo’s Ruffalo Bills (Aidan)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Paying more than the cost of a Notre Dame education for a military-grade laser-guided beard trimmer

Sean dropped his game versus Griffin in the closest fight since the donnybrook between his ex-girlfriend and sanity. A couple breaks here and there and he might have come away with a W. Unfortunately, Tyreek Hill will be out for an indefinite period of time after finding out that it’s hard to box with people who aren’t 5 years old and Evan Engram is going to put up 28 points again as soon as Father Jenkins decides it’s high time to adhere to his vow of poverty. His third-leading scorer this week was his kicker. Last time everyone discovered so obviously that something fishy was afoot Sean needed his location tracked to a downtrodden dormitory fuck-barn.

6. Mark Ruffalo’s Ruffalo Bills (Aidan)

Record: 1-0 | PF: 151.6 | PA: 120.9

Playing Next: Reading comprehension

Questionable Decision of the Week: $45 says he’s still doing Fontaine to all of his roommates and they’re plotting in equal measures to cut him out of the will and to put a steak knife in his femoral artery

Big boy trade man saw his wheeling and dealing pay off, running contrary to his favorite Silver-and-Black organization, and to the time he swapped his dignity for his desktop toaster oven. Drew Brees stepped up, and not just on the baby footstool he uses to properly gaze into the bathroom mirror to examine his face birthmark that looks like Spaghetti-O cum. Julio and JuJu took the field, which is worth 15 points apiece in standard ESPN scoring. Outside of that, though, we have another aberrant kicker performance, this one from Harrison “Anal” Butker, and Josh Jacobs putting up 25 against a Broncos defense more porous than an Aidan snap group selfie. Expect a greater fall from grace than that of the Robert Pattinson Porsche launching itself from the car WTC.

5. Cartoon Colt Copulation (Gabe)

Record: 0-1 | PF: 127.1 | PA: 145.3

Playing Next: The Birds Have Arrived (John)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Drafting from Hawaii during my last day on that particular vacation because I value disposable carnal pleasures more than lasting memories with my aging and loving parents

This ranking is like the number of inches I used to tell Tinder hookers after snapping them at 2AM: obviously inflated because I think I’m in control. A charitable read tells you that all of my risky/reachy picks paid off in spades and that I was one Desean Jackson start from starting the season off strong. A realistic assessment brings you back to the reality of the fact that depending on Desean Jackson for a victory is a lot like expecting me to bring you to orgasm. I’m just going to drop out before anyone crosses the line. Can’t wait to be 0-6 by the time AJ Green and Golden Tate come back, leaving me in a scramble for respectability that nobody respects, much like how I acquired my college degree.

4. Poo Poo Point Diarrheas (Griff)

Record: 1-0 | PF: 136.2 | PA: 130.7

Playing Next: TEAM DUMPSTER BEARS (Lauren)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Being really fucking amped about his band despite ostensibly not being under the influence of cocaine

Griffin’s starting lineup is the quintessential example of boom or bust, which is odd, because I thought the quintessential example of boom or bust was his nightly decision between offing himself and masturbating. Every single one of his starting skill players suits up for the Panthers, the Chargers, or the Rams. That diversity is so poor that it makes Mendoza look like the fucking United Nations. I’d tell you to branch out, Griff, but your bench is thinner than you if you were half your size and if half your size wasn’t also still fat. Will Lutz, your kicker, almost tripled the score of your quarterback. As the signal-caller in question is none other than Cameron Newton, I imagine that we won’t be hearing from Tori for a while, as her resultant pussy surge at a black man’s failure sent all of her electronics into traction.

3. TEAM DUMPSTER BEARS (Lolo)

Record: 1-0 | PF: 173.4 | PA: 131.2

Playing Next: What cruel twist of fate caused me to do the rankings like this

Questionable Decision of the Week: Letting me find out you actually own a Deshaun Watson jersey as if I didn’t already have enough roasting ammunition

Wowie! High score! Hope you’re hard at work roasting up some tasty crow for me to eat after my little draft-day Clemson jab because A) You cook so infrequently you thought a “burner” was one of the twitter accounts you use to solicit Hunter Renfrow dick pics and B) this is the last week you even sniff this stratosphere of point-getting. It is not often I flex my fantasy football “expertise” because clearly I don’t know shit about fuck but anyone who’s played this sick game of roulette for more than one season has learned the unalienable truth that you CANNOT TRUST SAMMY WATKINS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. Holy god that 46.8-spot is a bigger mirage than someone looking at your hair under favorable light and thinking it has volume. Sammy will get run over by a stock car, Deshaun will have his spleen removed in week 6 when Laremy Tunsil turns his back on a bootleg to get fitted for a new nicotine gas mask, and your chances of success will disappear faster than your willingness to take on any more of my emotional baggage once I let you in the cargo hold. Much like our relationship, enjoy it while it lasts.

2. The Queen’s Booty Lickers (Liv)

Record: 1-0 | PF: 145.3 | PA: 127.1

Playing Next: James White is Right (Tori)

Questionable Decision of the Week: We won’t find out till next week, when she gets in contact again and sends 14 messages, 13 of which relate to topics nobody remembers and 1 of which is feloniously horny

It is cruel fucking fate that the Eagles stans would fly to the top of the power rankings from the word go. I know I attract toxic elements to my life, but being friends with multiple people from Philadelphia is like trying to run a fever to get out of going to school and instead having both your arms fed into an original Eli Whitney cotton gin. Liv didn’t even draft her squad, which probably explains why both Dak and Amari are both properly valued and are on this roster, ready to put up a combined 245 points a game because NFC East teams treat defense like Louis CK does consent. They don’t really think about it much. Hey Liv, hope that reflective road vest is enough to save you when Griffin trips coming out of a show and rolls downhill for 5 miles. It’s a good thing you have OBJ because you both look like closeted lesbians trying to stand out in Catholic school.

1. The Birds Have Arrived (John)

Record: 1-0 | PF: 167.7 | PA: 73

Playing Next: Cartoon Colt Copulation (idk some guy, poor bastard)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Getting piss on the floor of his bathroom, totally missing my mouth

This is a truly upsetting squad about which to write a recap. John’s team put up the second-most points with consistent performances across the board despite having AB and Melvin Gordon on the shelf. I haven’t been this worried about two people returning since John’s parents told him they were just going down to the store for a pack of cigarettes. It’s tough to not look at this lineup and be intimidated, so now we all know how John’s organs feel when they receive the message from his tastebuds that there’s a combination of peanut butter, salsa, Drano, and barbeque sauce slathered on a cheesesteak coming down the hatch. At least that sub is still more palatable than his dating life. John wanted me to hear two words: Antonio Brown. I got 2(1) words for ya, John: You’re the Anthony Fantano of book reviews if Fantano looked like Steve Brule and had the follower base of the Shakers.

See ya next week!

-Commish

[meggannn]

I haven't played infinite or the dlcs, how was elizabeth screwed over by the writers?

most of my criticism for what happened to her is in the dlcs. (most of my criticism for the game is about how the game wraps in the dlcs, actually.) it’s some pretty dark and messed up stuff though, so putting behind a cut if you don’t care about spoilers

burial at sea 2 was essentially elizabeth torture porn. there was a ten-minute sequence of atlas literally torturing her (during which the player cannot skip or avoid looking at the torture, since it’s a first-person camera and the torture happens in her eyeballs so it looks like it’s happening to you), and later he kills her, for… no reason. the narrative excuse the game gives is “he needs the trigger word to get mind control jack to start the events of bioshock 1,” but…. this completely ignores the fact somehow that if atlas/fontaine commissioned jack’s entire existence, he should already know the trigger word without needing to torture a complete stranger for it. going by their own consistency, there was literally no reason for the torture, physical or emotional.

in burial at sea 1, elizabeth puts sally, a vulnerable little sister, in danger just to get revenge on someone else. this is meant to be the same elizabeth who, in the main game, killed a grown woman that was threatening a child to save the child’s life. (that was a whole ‘nother level of fucked up, since that person happens to be the only black woman in the series and one with an important social message at that, but it’s another argument.) this is meant to be the same elizabeth who was a victim of childhood negligence, abuse, and trauma, for her entire life, who was proven to be fiercely protective of children and innocents in the main game. elizabeth comstock. putting an innocent little girl in harm’s way. locking sally into a heating vent. putting her in danger of burning to death. just to get personal revenge on someone else. like… no?????

an undercurrent theme of the two dlcs is that elizabeth, as booker’s daughter, is essentially born to repeat his mistakes/tread in his footsteps as a murder and morally ambiguous character. not only is this a total 180 from the woman we saw in the main game, but it’s like saying child abuse victims are destined to become child abusers themselves. hopefully i don’t have to explain why that’s fucked up. (it’s not an exaggeration since it’s kind of exactly what happens in the game: booker is negligent of child safety at best in bsi and elizabeth actively puts a kid in harm’s way for revenge in the dlc, something she never would’ve dreamed in bsi. you could argue it’s excused win her character ‘cause maybe the dlc happens so far in the future after bsi, elizabeth is no longer the girl she was, and she’s so focused on revenge she was willing to kill a girl to get what she wants – but that’s just the “she’s destined to become her father” bullshit in different colors).

then there’s the fact that atlas killed her for no reason at all in the end. other than ken levine feeling the need to meet some bizarre tearjerk/mindfuck quota to end the game on a bang. idk man looks bad

[kryptsune]

Till Death Do You Part {Part 3} (UF Frans)

Part 1  Part 2 

She couldn't see his face as he turned on his second eldest brother. Her ears could only hear what he was saying not truly Red’s own disdain for speaking them aloud, "That's so dull brother, but perhaps you should meet her. Her blood is sweeter than any honey." 

Frisk knew nothing of his brothers but she did hear two separate voices within the room. This one sounded a touch older than the rest though it was difficult to tell, "Practically glowing little brother are you sure you don't feel something for this frail human? You know how father sees them. Could it be that the wolf has fallen for the little rabbit?" It was Gered who was currently teasing him as their family tended to do. 

Red had retained remnants of his humanity over his course of eternal life but the other two had this stigma about humans and how superior vampires were above all else. They had power, looks, wealth, and knowledge. None could rival their prowess. 

All of course vampiric propaganda instilled through all three of them by their tyrant of a “father”. Not biological of course but their fealty to him was absolute. A sire. Even if he wanted to disobey him the hierarchy of their affliction it was a near possibility as a vampire of his standing. While his two other brothers were master vampires, he was not. He would have to break that hold and that was no easy task. 

Frisk felt herself slowly slipping down the wall unable to gain the will to get to her feet. Her heart had been torn asunder and hearing that sweet voice that she so loved talking about her like she was some sort of pet, shattered it even further. In her heart, she wished that he had been open with her, honest. Just as she had been with him.   

Carthus rolled his eyes at the comment, "It's hardly dull and perhaps maybe I will. I cannot promise my restraint of course. I am sure the little thing was terrified of you were they not? They always are~" He had taken to sitting upright in his chair once more eager to see this new catch. 

Red slipped one of his hands into the pocket of his tailored black slacks so that he could hide with how much force he was balling his hand into a fist. Did he want to punch Carthus straight in the mouth, no, but if he pushed this any further he just might take a swing. No one would suspect his rage however as he used his opposite hand to gesture nonchalantly, "Of course but she is quite a sweetheart." He did not hide the glare that he shot the two as he replied. 

Gered on the other hand had been quiet for a time only to set his glass down on the side table. It was currently empty, "Well let's meet your blushing little witch bride, shall we?" He would push a meeting like that. 

Frisk didn't know if she could muster the energy to remove herself from where she had fallen. She felt defeated and yet there was a spark in her that gave her enough will to force herself to stand and head back up the stairs. Even if the pain persisted she managed to make it to her room, wiping the tears from her eyes. She wanted to hear his duplicity from his own lips. It may kill her in the process but she was far more headstrong than even she realized.

There was no telling what would become of her if they caught her snooping on their private conversation. The magic inside of her would not be able to best three vampiric brothers with an unknown number of lifetimes over her own. 

---------------------------------------------

Carthus chuckled, "Of course I have a distinct interest as well. The more you talk about her the more I am inclined to feel curious. Are you keeping her from us brother?"

Red just shook his head, "Of course not." Carthus and Gered were his older brothers and therefore had the say. He stood up and led them towards his room where his beloved rested. That pain that he felt before still struck his chest, "Come right this way." She would be surprised by the soft knock that he made against the wooden door. He wanted her to know to be prepared. Unfortunately, she was already far too aware of her visitors, "Frisk, Dear... are you well enough to receive company?"

The words that were running through her mind were 'keep up the act' as she curled under the covers. She wanted to try and run far, far away but it wouldn't do much good. Every part of her felt like it was going to fall apart. It was a marvel she was keeping the emotional pain in as well as she was, "I am. Please come in."

Red opened the door, stepping aside to let Carthus and Gered entrance into the room, "My Dear, these are my older brothers, Carthus and Gered Fontaine," he explained in introduction as he came to sit by her. 

Gered’s bold nature had him coming to take her hand, kissing the back of it as he formally introduced himself, "Charmed of course Madam. My such a beautiful young lady that is wed to our little brother." There was no hint of jest or mockery in his tone, only polite respect. 

She put on her best smile as she rose from her reclining position against a mountain of goose down pillows, "It is a pleasure to meet you both. I did not know Red had siblings until a few weeks ago." Well, you could give her this, she was a good actress.

Gered nodded in return twisting to eye his brother with a hint of a grin forming on his lips, "Ahh Red, one would think you were embarrassed by us~" He teased, chuckling softly. She hated that he had just as much charm as her husband. Not to mention the same blonde hair, pale complexion, and these stunning golden eyes. 

Red made his way to her. His brothers she could handle but she could not meet his eyes, "Never brother.. I just wanted to enjoy being married to the most wonderful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

No. She could barely hold it together as it stood but now he was giving her compliments. Her heart ached within her chest and so too did his own. 

Carthus did a little bow, "Our brother even kept you from us. Perhaps because he's afraid we would try to sweep his beautiful bride away~" He just smirked, wine glass still in hand.

Frisk shut her eyes, "You flatter me, my Lord, but I'm afraid my heart belongs to only one." Even saying it caused that pain to increase. She just noticed off to the side that Red’s fingers were digging into his chest. Ih had her wondering if he could feel the pain festering inside of her. How heartbroken she was to learn his love was all a lie.

It made his heart flutter to hear such a confession from her, "Ahh... you flatter me, my Love." He moved to brush her hair from her face. His eyes resting on only her, swirling with admiration and concern. He hated these interactions. It made him feel like they were subtly dehumanizing her more. 

Gered had pulled away from the two keeping a close eye on his younger siblings tells. There was something off just by the way he looked at his mortal girl, "Indeed. Such a loyal one you have here little brother. A rarity in this day and age. I am quite impressed." It was the truth. His brother had found a rare one.

Carthus raised his glass in a toast, "I agree dear brother. I can see why you love her so much. A toast to your long and happy marriage." Those that kept their glasses clinked them together in celebration. One, of course, she was not participating in. Gered even offered the bedridden lady a sip from his glass to which her dutiful husband respectfully declined for her. He knew what was mixed within.

"Here here~," Gered said softly, clinking his glass taking his place beside Carthus. Red made sure to give his thanks in the wake of his brother’s praises, "You both are too kind of course."

She opened her eyes only to feel Red’s fingers near her face. It took everything in her not to pull away. Her soul just crumbled under the emotional weight, "It's something I don't feel I do enough. You take care of me and love me so. I could never ask for anything more." 

He glanced at Frisk curiously a moment before he sat back. She was acting strange, "Oh my Dear enough of that. I told you I would care for you for as long as we both lived." 

Her smile faltered for a moment, "Of course. I am sorry. I only meant that it is rare that a husband would care so much for his ill wife without asking anything in return." What was she supposed to say?

Red kissed her forehead gingerly trying to inject some levity into this backward situation, "I am unlike any other of course~” Her hand slipped into his gently, "Please forgive me." That stunning smile seemed off and filled with a deep sadness. He liked to believe that he knew her better than anyone. She was in a great deal of pain. 

There was not a thing in his mind that would overshadow his concern. "Ahh, you must be tired still my Dear, do rest. I shall see my brothers out and perhaps they could visit again when you are well. You can grace us with your bright beautiful smile."

All she could manage to do was nod, slipping her hand away from him, "Yes, thank you my Love." Her eyes never met his. Not once.

Red stood and ushered the older two out, closing the door. He was happy that the tribulation had passed. It would be some time before they reappeared enjoying their endless game together. One that he no longer was going to participate in. His eyes fell to his chest. 

---------------------------------------------------

Frisk placed her hands on her face, shaking before sinking down into the covers. How long could she look at him and not see his betrayal? That once sweet smile hurt her soul so much, something that as she lay there, he would feel a stabbing sensation.

No longer could she keep that pain from spilling over as tears slipped through her fingers. She felt hopeless and beyond repair. Why would she ever think that someone could love her, truly? Now that she knew what was wrong she used her magic to ease her pain. Even now that she felt physically better it didn't change anything else.

As he made his way back to their shared room he caught that faint smell of salt in the air, tears, "Frisk dear?” First, it was the pain in his chest but now he could hear those faint sobs.

She ripped her hands away from her face and quickly pulled the covers over herself so that she could try and hide those tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, "Y...yes?"

The scent increased as he neared the door, opening it to see her cowering under her bedspread, "I came to check on you, my Love." He stepped inside coming to reside by her side and sit on the bed, "I do hope my brothers weren’t a bother.”

Why was he even trying? It was all just an act after all, "No, of course not. It is nice to meet your family." Not only was she lying but she also was still trying to hide her face. Something that was suspicious on its own.

He hummed softly and pulled the sheet from her shaking hands, "My Love...” Her eyes were red and puffy, lips trembling as her eyes finally met his. It broke his heart. One that he thought would never return, “Why are you hiding away and crying?" 

He was far too strong for her to resist as she turned her head slowly to look at him. She looked like her entire world had fallen apart, "Did anything you ever say to me... Was it true... Or just more of your games?"

Every muscle in his body tensed at once. That was why he felt that pain burning a hole in his chest. She had overheard the conversation he had with his brothers. It was time to tell her the truth, "Yes, perhaps but not at first. I knew the moment of our wedding night. You have grown on me. It’s why I have kept you alive, rather than kill you as I...” He paused letting a sigh escape from him, “have so many others before you.”

She just looked off to the side, "Why... Why would you pretend like you cared? Do you even know the extent of physical pain I've been in these last few months? To find out it's because..." The words stuck in her throat she couldn't speak as her eyes started to water once more.

She was right and yet he still tried to justify his behavior, "My Dear. I am over 400 years old, I can act well, but caring even for my brothers is very difficult to do. So while yes, I am aware you are in pain, it is not my intention in the first place. Our... games do not usually keep a human alive so long." It was the truth but she had to know what he now felt. How different it had become. 

Those words did not form according to plan, "I do care, hence why I haven't torn your throat from you, it is also why I did not tell you what I was, to begin with." He slid his hand through her hair feeling her apprehension. It was alright he understood why. How could he blame her for it?

Tears continued to slip down her cheeks as she tried to listen to him. He sounded so cold and methodical. She had given him her trust, her love, and her life, "Then you are 400 years an idiot. I so desperately desired that you put your trust in me as I had in you but instead you erase yourself from my memory. A vampire… such a thing is but gothic fiction and yet you are before me.”

His head tilted to the side as his thumb brushed away those still falling tears. Do not cry any longer. Please, "Oh, my Dear, I have been twice burned in that regard. Two women in the past that I believed I had fallen for, told others what I was. I confided in them only to end up nearly staked and burned. I pray you forgive me if I am not keen to visit such a circumstance again. So you have discovered what my true affliction is. I knew so bright a mind would make the correct conclusion.”  

Her eyes screwed shut unable to look him in the eyes, "I would never do something like that even knowing the truth. I can not deny that it frightens me but... I would do anything for you." She raised her face before inky lashes parted to reveal deep sapphire eyes. Finally, she had the courage to look at him directly, "I love you... So much it hurts. Even after your deceptions."

She still loved him and wanted to be with him? After everything? Now she was the wiser. The memories he had taken from her did not alter that deep and genuine feeling that resided in her heart. How could someone cursed like him love and find it with someone so beautiful, inside and out, "We will see then my Dear. I shan't wipe your memory further, but I require your blood tonight. Prove your words to me, and we may continue our... arrangement. It would be quite a shame to lose you.” Why did his words always come out so cold? That was honestly the best she was going to get in terms of a love confession from a 400-year-old vampire. For now.

Her hand rubbed at her arm gently, looking away. She didn't know if she could live like this. It was practically a lie, "Now that I know why my health was deteriorating I have been able to heal myself. It will no longer be an issue. I... I have no choice. As heartbroken as I am...my desire to prove myself to you far outweighs my fears"

Ruby eyes fell on her as she spoke. The truth was that he could just wipe her memory of actually having learned all this, continue like always. It made something deeper within his chest ache to see her so... heartbroken. This was his fault. Everything was far easier without a conscience.

He looked at her, sure, but that didn't change how she felt. She wanted to beg and plead, "I don't know what I am going to do..." All she wanted to hear was that someone, anyone, loved her. That she wasn't just some kind of disposable human being. A toy. Her heart ached more than she could even explain.

Perhaps she would soon think of it from his perspective. He was detached from human emotions, a defense mechanism. So perhaps... she could get through to him. The way he looked at her didn't change at all of course. Could she hold her own against her to his brothers?

She could tell he was detached as she struggled with her own mind. Her hand rose to gently caress his cheek if he would let her, "I would never do anything to hurt you. Please believe me."

He touched her hand to his cheek gently doing his best to reassure her that his intentions for her were only from the heart, though his speech may have given her the impression otherwise, "I want to believe you, my dear. I truly do but I must protect myself. I am sure you understand. I kept you alive when my brothers expected me to kill you after our first night."

Her voice was strained but she did the best she could, "I understand." She watched as his face twist in pain. That was the first time she had ever seen that expression from him. Was she getting through somehow?

He pet her head gently. "That alone should tell you much, my dearest Frisk. I have not dealt with human emotion for nearly 3 lifetimes.” 

A little shimmer of hope began to grow, “Then... it’s not that you do not care? You have forgotten how to do so?” He would be able to hear her heart skip a small beat at this new information, “I know it is selfish but... I want your love... so badly even after everything. I can not deny my heart.”

Her voice was soft and quiet as she pulled him closer into a kiss. She poured all her emotions in that single act before resting her head back on the pillow, “What do you want me to do, Red?”

She noticed how vibrant his eyes were, far more stunning than the brown ones she had grown accustomed to. His voice was at a low whisper, "Rest for now. You may ask me questions, but for now, you will rest, and heal."

Frisk grasped for his sleeve gently, “Will you stay with me while I do?”

He settled into bed with her, "Of course." His worry of her keeping her distance after learning the truth was once again unfounded. She curled up close to him even if he could hear that faint pitter-patter of a heartbeat, “You need not be afraid of me. I promise. I will never do anything to hurt you any longer.”

Why did she want him to love her so desperately? He was everything she had ever wanted, dreamed of. The truth didn’t deter her, “What... would I have to do... for you to love me?” Her voice wavered as she spoke for it was the only thing her heart truly wanted.

How was he supposed to answer that question? He already knew deep down that no one could ever replace the hole in his heart if he lost her, "That is a  loaded question my Dear” he replied with hesitation as he stroked her hair. His lips ran over her jaw gingerly, "It is not a matter of what you can do, but rather what I am able to project. In my mind, that fact that you remain so close to my side proves how...important... you are to me."

She sighed painfully and curled up again. It was a lost cause. Of course, it burdened her heart like a lead weight but there was nothing she could do. No longer did she want to cry in front of him. He just didn’t understand.

He kissed her forehead letting her drift into a peaceful sleep. The poor thing had been so tired. His brothers had come to call and had ruined their loving relationship. Was that truly what it was? Or was it more like a facade of one? He had told her he required her blood that evening but he could not bring himself to do it. She had been through Hell and back being toyed with emotionally. He loved her that much he was certain but if he projected weakness then she may be in danger. 

Little by little he would show the full extent of his feelings but for now even he felt weary. The dawn would bring many questions he already knew. What she did not understand is that he had done these things for her. He wanted her happiness as he stared at her peaceful sleeping face, falling to sleep beside her. 

[kryptsune]

Till Death Do You Part {Part 3} (UF Frans)

🌼Here we are! Part 3 of this little story. As it stands there is only one left. The only way that could possibly change is if there is a request for more C: So please let me know what you think by the usual ways, comment/reblog. It really helps me gage that interest. 

She couldn't see his face as he turned on his second eldest brother. Her ears could only hear what he was saying not truly his own disdain for speaking them aloud, "That's so dull Brother, but perhaps you should meet her. Her blood is sweeter than any honey." 

Frisk knew nothing of his brothers but she did hear two separate voices within the room. This one sounded a touch older than the rest though it was difficult to tell, "Practically glowing little brother are you sure you don't feel something for this frail human? You know how father sees them. Could it be that the wolf has fallen for the little rabbit?" It was Gered who was currently teasing him as their family tended to do. 

Red had retained remnants of his humanity over his course of eternal life but the other two had this stigma about humans and how superior vampires were above all else. They had power, looks, wealth, and knowledge. None could rival their prowess. 

All of course vampiric propaganda instilled through all three of them by their tyrant of a “father”. Not biological of course but their fealty to him was absolute. A sire. Even if he wanted to disobey him the hierarchy of their affliction would not allow it. He would have to break that hold and that was no easy task. 

Frisk felt herself slowly slipping down the wall unable losing the will to get to her feet. Her heart had been torn asunder and hearing that sweet voice that she so loved talk about her like she was some sort of pet, shattered it even further. In her heart she wished that he had been open with her, honest. Just as she had been with him.   

Crimson rolled his eyes at the comment, "It's hardly dull and perhaps maybe I will. I cannot promise my restraint of course. I am sure the little thing was terrified of you were they not? They always are~" He had taken to sitting upright in his chair once more eager to see this new catch. 

Red slipped one of his hands into the pocket of his tailored black slacks so that he could hide with how much force he was balling his hand into a fist. Did he want to punch Crimson straight in the mouth, no, but if he pushed this any further he just might take a swing. No one would suspect his rage however as he used his opposite hand to gesture nonchalantly, "Of course but she is quite a sweetheart." He did not hide the glare that he shot the two. 

Gered on the other hand had been quiet for a time only to set his glass down on the side table. It was currently empty, "Well let's meet your blushing little mage bride, shall we?" He would push a meeting like that. 

Frisk didn't know if she could muster the energy to remove herself from where she had fallen. She felt defeated and yet there was a spark in her that gave her enough will to force herself to stand and back up the stairs. Even if the pain persisted she managed to make it to her room, wiping the tears from her eyes. She wanted to hear his duplicity from his own lips. It may kill her in the process but she was far more headstrong than even she realized.

There was no telling what would become of her if they caught her snooping on their private conversation. The magic inside of her would not be able to best three vampiric brothers with an unknown number of lifetimes over her own. 

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Crimson chuckled, "Of course I have a distinct interest as well. The more you talk about her the more I am inclined to feel curious. Are you keeping her from us brother?"

Red just shook his head, "Of course not brother." Crimson and Gered were his older brothers and therefore had the say. He stood up and led them towards his room where his beloved rested. That pain that he felt before still struck his chest, "Come right this way." She would be surprised by the soft knock that he made against the wooden door. He wanted her to know to be prepared. Unfortunately she was already far too aware of her visitors, "Frisk, Dear... are you well enough to receive company?"

The words that were running through her mind were 'keep up the act' as she curled under the covers. She wanted to just try and run far, far away but it wouldn't do much good. Every part of her felt like it was going to fall apart. It was a marvel she was keeping the emotional pain in as well as she was, "I am. Please come in."

Red opened the door, stepping aside to let Crimson and Gered inside, "My Dear, these are my older brothers, Crimson and Gered Fontaine." He explained in introduction as he came to sit by her. 

Gered’s bold nature had him coming to take her hand, kissing the back of it as he formally introduced himself, "Charmed of course madam. My such a beautiful young lady that is wed to our little brother." There was no hint of jest or mockery in his tone only polite respect. 

She put on her best smile as rising from her reclining position against a mountain of goose down pillows, "It is a pleasure to meet you both. I did not know Red had siblings until a few weeks ago." Well you could give her this, she was a good actress.

Gered nodded in return twisting to eye his brother with a hint of a grin forming on his lips, "Ahh Red, one would think you were embarrassed of us~" He teased, chuckling softly. She hated that he had just as much charm as her husband. Not to mention the same blonde hair, pale complexion, and these stunning golden eyes. 

Red made his way to her. His brothers she could handle but she could not meet his eyes, "Never brother.. I just wanted to enjoy being married to the most wonderful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

No. She could barely hold it together as it stood but now he was giving her compliments. Her heart ached within her chest and so too did his own. 

Crimson did a little bow, "Our brother even kept you from us. Perhaps because he's afraid we would try to sweep his beautiful bride away~" He just smirked, wine glass still in hand.

 Frisk shut her eyes, "You flatter me, my Lord, but I'm afraid my heart belongs to only one." Even saying it caused that pain to increase. She just noticed off to the side that Red’s fingers were digging into his chest.

It made his heart flutter to hear such a confession from her, "Ahh... you flatter me my Love." He moved to brush her hair from her face. His eyes resting on only her, swirling with admiration and concern. He hated these interactions. It made him feel like they were subtly dehumanizing her more. 

Gered had pulled away from the two keeping a close eye on his younger siblings tells. There was something off just by the way he looked at his mortal girl, "Indeed. Such a loyal one you have here little brother. A rarity this day and age. I am quite impressed." It was a truth. His brother had found a rare one.

Crimson raised his glass in a toast, "I agree dear brother. I can see why you love her so much. A toast to your long and happy marriage." Those that kept their glasses clinked them together in celebration. One of course she was not participating in. Gered even offered the bed ridden lady a sip from his glass to which her dutiful husband respectfully declined for her. He knew what was in that glass.

"Here here~" Gered said softly, clinking his glass taking his place beside Crimson. Red made sure to give his thanks in the wake of his brothers praises, "You both are too kind of course."

She opened her eyes only to feel Red’s fingers near her face. It took everything in her not to pull away. Her soul just crumbled under the emotional weight, "It's something I don't feel I do enough. You take care of me and love me so. I could never ask for anything more." 

He glanced at Frisk curiously a moment before he pulled back. She was acting strange, "Oh my Dear enough of that. I told you I would care for you for as long as we both lived." 

Her smile faltered for a moment, "Of course. I am sorry. I only meant that it is rare that a husband would care so much for his ill wife without asking anything in return." What was she supposed to say?

Red kissed her forehead gingerly trying to inject some levity into this backwards situation, "I am unlike any other of course~” Her hand slipped into his gently, "Please forgive me." That stunning smile seemed off and filled with a deep sadness. He liked to believe that he knew her better than anyone. She was in a great deal of pain. 

There was not a thing in his mind that would overshadow his concern. "Ahh you must be tired still my Dear, do rest. I shall see my brothers out and perhaps they could visit again when you are well. You can grace us with your bright beautiful smile."

All she could manage to do was nod, slipping her hand away from him, "Yes, thank you my Love." Her eyes never met his. Not once.

Red stood and ushered the older two out, closing the door. He was happy that the tribulation has passed. It would be some time before they reappeared enjoying their endless game together. One that he no longer was going to participate in. His eyes fell to his chest. 

---------------------------------------------------

Frisk placed her hands on her face, shaking before sinking down into the covers. How long could she look at him and not see his betrayal. That once sweet smile hurt her soul so much, something that as she lay there, he would begin to feel.

No longer could she keep that pain from spilling over as tears slipped through her fingers. She felt hopeless and beyond repair. Why would she ever think that someone could love her, truly. Now that she knew what was wrong she used her magic to restore herself. Even now that she felt physically better it didn't change anything else.

As he made his way back to their shared room he caught that faint smell of salt in the air. Tears, "Frisk dear?” First it was the pain in his chest but now it was her tears.

She ripped her hands away from her face and quickly pulled the covers over herself so that she could try and hide those tear stained cheeks and red eyes, "Y...yes?"

The scent increased as he neared the door, opening it to see her cowering under her bedspread, "I came to check on you, my Love." He stepped inside coming to her side to sit on the bed, "I do hope my brothers weren’t a bother.”

Why was he even trying? It was all just an act after all, "No, of course not. It is nice to meet your family." Not only was she lying but she also was still trying to hide her face. Something that was suspicious on its own.

He hummed softly and pulled the sheet from her shaking hands, "My Love...” Her eyes were red and puffy, lips trembling as her eyes final met his. It broke his heart. One that he thought would never return, “Why are you hiding away and crying?" 

He was far too strong for her to resist as she turned her head slowly to look at him. She looked like her entire world had fallen apart, "Did anything you ever say to me... Was it true... Or just more of your games?"

Every muscle in his body tensed at once. That was why that he felt that pain burning a hole in his chest. She had overheard the conversation he had with his brothers. It was time to tell her the truth, "Yes, perhaps but not at first. I knew the moment of our wedding night. You have grown on me. It’s why I have kept you alive, rather than kill you as I...” He paused letting a sigh escape from him, “have so many others before you.”

She just looked off to the side, "Why... Why would you pretend like you cared? Do you even know the extent of physical pain I've been in these last few months? To find out it's because..." The words stuck in her throat she couldn't speak as her eyes started to water once more.

She was right and yet he still tried to justify his behavior, "My Dear. I am over 400 years old, I can act well, but caring even for my brothers is very difficult to do. So while yes, I am aware you are in pain, it is not my intention in the first place. Our... games do not usually keep a human alive so long." It was the truth but she had to know what he now felt. How different it had become. 

Those words did not form according to plan, "I do care, hence why I haven't torn your throat from you, it is also why I did not tell you what I was to begin with." He slid his hand through her hair feeling her apprehension. It was alright he understood why. How could he blame her for it?

Tears continued to slip down her cheeks as she tried to listen to him. He sounded so cold and methodical. She had given him her trust, her love, and her life, "Then you are 400 years an idiot. I so desperately desired that you put your trust me as I had in you but instead you erased yourself from my memory."

His head tilted to the side as his thumb brushed away those still falling tears. Do not cry any longer. Please, "Oh, my Dear, I have been twice burned in that regard. Two women in the past that I believed I had fallen for, told others what I was. I confided in them only to end up nearly staked and burned. I pray you forgive me if I am not keen to visit such a circumstance again." 

Her eyes screwed shut unable to look him in the eyes, "I would never do something like that even knowing the truth. I can not deny that it frightens me but... I would do anything for you." She raised her face before inky lashes parted to reveal deep sapphire eyes. Finally she had the courage to look at him directly, "I love you... So much it hurts. Even after your deceptions."

She still loved him and wanted to be with him? After everything? Now she was the wiser. The memories he had taken from her did not alter that deep and genuine feeling that resided in her heart. How could someone cursed like him love and find it with someone so beautiful, inside and out, "We will see then my Dear. I shan't wipe your memory further, but I require your blood tonight. Prove your words to me, and we may continue our... arrangement. It would be quite the shame to lose you.” Why did his words always come out so cold. That was honestly the best she was going to get in terms of a love confession from a 400 year old vampire. For now.

Her hand rubbed at her arm gently, looking away. She didn't know if she could live like this. It was practically a lie, "Now that I know why my health was deteriorating I have been able to heal myself. It will no longer be an issue. I... I have no choice. As heartbroken as I am...my desire to prove myself to you far outweighs my fears"

Ruby eyes fell on her as she spoke. The truth was that he could just wipe her memory of actually having learned all this, continue like always. It made something deeper within his chest ache to see her so... heartbroken. It was his fault.

He looked at her, sure, but that didn't change how she felt. She wanted to beg and plead, "I don't know what I am going to do..." All she wanted to hear was that someone, anyone, loved her. That she wasn't just some kind of disposable human being. A toy. Her heart ached more than she could even explain.

Perhaps she would soon think of it from his perspective. He was detached from human emotions, a defense mechanism. So perhaps... she could get through to him. The way he looked at her didn't change at all of course. Could she hold her own against her to his brothers?

She could tell he was detached as she struggled with her own mind. Her hand rose to gently touch his cheek if he would let her, "I would never do anything to hurt you. Please believe me."

He touched her hand to his cheek gently doing his best to reassure her that his intentions for her were only from the heart though his speech may have given her the impression otherwise, "I want to believe you my dear. I truly do but I must protect myself. I am sure you understand. I kept you alive when my brothers expected me to kill you after our first night."

Her voice was strained but she did the best she could, "I understand." She watched as his face twist in pain. That was the first time she had ever seen that expression from him. Was she getting through somehow?

"That alone should tell you much my dearest Frisk." 

He pet her head gently. "I have not dealt with human emotion for nearly 3 lifetimes. 

A little shimmer of hope began to grow, “Then... it’s not that you do not care? You have forgotten how to do so?” He would be able to hear her heart skip a small beat at this new information, “I know it is selfish but... I want your love... so badly even after everything. I can not deny my heart.”

Her voice was soft and quiet as she pulled him closer into a kiss. She poured all her emotions in that single act before resting her head back on the pillow, “What do you want me to do, Red?”

She noticed how vibrant his eyes were, far more stunning than the brown ones she had grown accustomed. His voice was at a low whisper, "Rest for now. You may ask me questions, but for now you will rest, and heal."

Frisk grasped for his sleeve gently, “Will you stay with me while I do?”

He settled into bed with her, "Of course." His worry of her keeping her distance after learning the truth was once again unfounded. She curled up close to him even if he could hear that faint pitter patter of a heart beat, “You need not be afraid of me. I promise. I will never do anything to hurt you any longer.”

Why did she want him to love her so desperately? He was everything she had ever wanted, dreamed of. The truth didn’t deter her, “What... would I have to do... for you to love me?” Her voice wavered as she spoke for it was the only thing her heart truly wanted.

How was he supposed to answer that question? He already knew deep down that no one could ever replace the hole in his heart if he lost her, "That is a  loaded question my Dear” he replied with hesitation as he stroked her hair. His lips ran over her jaw gingerly, "It is not a matter of what you can do, but rather what I am able to project. In my mind that fact that you remain so close to my side proves how...important... you are to me."

She sighed painfully and curled up again. It was a lost cause. Of course it burdened her heart like a lead weight but there was nothing she could do. No longer did she want to cry in front of him. He just didn’t understand.

He kissed her forehead letting her drift into a peaceful sleep. The poor thing had been so tired. His brothers had come to call and had ruined their loving relationship. Was that truly what it was? Or was it more like a facade of one? He had told her he required her blood that evening but he could not bring himself to do it. She had been through Hell and back being toyed with emotionally. He loved her that much he was certain but if he projected weakness then she may be in danger. 

Little by little he would show the full extent of his feelings but for now even he felt weary. The dawn would bring many questions he already knew. What she did not understand is that he had done these things for her. He wanted her happiness as he stared at her peaceful sleeping face, falling to sleep beside her.