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alternity01 · 4 months

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Violet Hands and the Vermilion Masks of Pale Men

Chapter I. “Auf Wiedersehen, mein Freund.”

Word Count: 1469

Blurb: Aidan Grimm has spent almost his whole life with the Ngela-Machiavelli family. They've eaten together, drunk together, bathed together, and they've even killed together. That's a bond not many can have—a bond not many deserve—but they're not family. And sure there's more than the Machiavellis, more than Leo and Aunty Ciseko and Uncle Fernando. There's Silenzio: Ayesha, Natasha, Giuseppe and Brianna. All great in their own right, all people he's grown with, but they were never his family.

His family is no more. A mission from his dear Aunty and Uncle led to them being snuffed out like the indigo flame from his indigo lighter and his home to burn. It is for that very reason that they must be extinguished alongside his best friend, his companion, his… Leo.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The buzz of Aidan’s phone kicks him out of his restless rest. As his eyes welcome the new day, he turns his attention to his nightstand. Sunlight crept onto it as he slept for its own break, finding his phone comfortable enough, causing the screen’s brightness to match. With this almost divine call to action, he reads:

X: Do not disappoint me.

He doesn’t bother to open the chat itself and respond. He knows what he must do. Having sat up to sleep, his tail drags behind him on his way to their shared bathroom—a crescent at the back rightmost corner of the house. There—hanging in a plastic sleeve off of the towel warmer—is a dress. The dress in fact. Woven from darkness only found under the coldest of beds, one paired with gloves covering an area from his paws to halfway up his biceps. Acknowledging it with an expressionless nod, he runs himself a bath Leonardo-Nawa would consider scalding.

‘How can I say goodbye?’ he thinks, sitting from the edge of the bathtub. As if he didn’t spend the past couple of years contemplating and organising it all.

Aidan's hand dances within the water during his thoughts, guiding his whole body into the depths of the clear liquid. As if to cleanse himself of his vices one last time, he glides the gel against the skin of his chest and face and the wine–red fur of his limbs with strength and vigour. All while laying down in a way that mimics those experiencing eternal slumber. Whether it's Leo’s parents or his own parents he's mimicking more is unknown even to him.

It’s not long before he finds his way back into the dress, a snug fit. Sliding his paws into flats, he fixes what he’s been told resembles a smile onto his face, and walks through Leonardo-Nawa’s bedroom door.

“You live, you laugh

Your time won’t pass

Today’s your day

(It is your day)

Only your day

(Only your day)

So we are here to say Happy Birthday,” Aidan sings softly to the sleeping kiweli, his voice moulding to add Aunty Ciseko and Uncle Fernando’s in perfect harmony.

Leonardo-Nawa dances around to the sombrely sung tune. It is only after it is done that he hugs him.

“I thank you with all my heart, darling. You understand this time has been hard for me,” utters Leonardo-Nawa in a loving whisper. “Might I add, you look absolutely stunning. As stunning as the day we met.”

“We met when we were barely able to speak,” he comments.

“Details, details. I… cared for you all the same. As you have cared for me. Thank you dearly.” He guides him into a miniature waltz.

“It’s nothing.” He keeps his steps.

Hand in hand, he spins him out despite his shorter build—an act that never fails to impress Aidan. He reverses it in a way that Leo finds himself into his open chest.

“With you, I’ll celebrate every moment as if it’s my last.” Leonardo-Nawa raises his head from his chest. “Till death do us part.”

Aidan found himself in the play pit nestled in the centre of the Ncana Institute for Education and Extracurricular Experience’s kindergarten section. His pale skin had already grown purple from the fall. Specifically, his chest—one he’d rather have torn out than receive anymore pain in that moment. And his arms—with his fur torn out in patches. At that point, what’s now a phantom of a memory stood above him, readying to deliver more punishment. That is until Leonardo-Nawa pounced on them, causing cuts to form.

“Who’s next?” he roared to the stunned crowd. His paintbrush-esque tail decorated the air around him with its rapid movements.

Aidan looked up at Leo in awe. His—at the time—short chocolate curls flowed in the wind. His stance was like the icons of legend, turning his unimpressive figure statue-esque in his eyes.

He turned to him and nodded to himself as he asked “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispered in response, bruised and aching.

“Listen up! I’m sick and tired of the way you guys treat, Aido.” Leo proclaimed, stepping on the chest of one of his attackers. “Quit messing with my love, or I’ll keep messing with you. Nothing can get between us. Till death do us part.”

It was then that he pressed his lips against his cheek in what the young one thought was nothing more than the cementing of the friendly gesture at the time. A far more naive Aidan felt himself grow rosy, having held onto Leo’s waist in a warm embrace.

A smile pops onto his face.

“Now, darling. How long must I wait for your surprises?”

“It’ll all be over soon.” Words he nearly chokes out.

“Are you alright?”

“Clearing my throat.”

“Go drink some water, darling. I’ll be waiting in here.”

“Freshening up?”

“Naturally.” He kisses him on the cheek.

Aidan slinks away, his expression flattening before he’s able to even open the door he came in from. His strides are wide, never spending longer in there than he needs to. Turning around, he tests his lock. The door shakes and scratches and fails to move. Perfect. He squats down by his bed, his primary exit already closed. Under it rests a duffle bag so dark it would be safe to assume his dress and it were woven from the same fabrics. Within it are hemp gloves, hiding the skeleton of a flash drive and a palm-sized remote. Aidan’s wallet, Aidan’s phone, Aidan’s bedroom keys. The ones for the bathroom follow once his gloves are on.

Once out of the room, halfway down a corridor he could’ve sworn was a quarter of its current length last night, he hears “Aidan, darling?”

“Yes?” He neglects to turn around.

“I miss you already.”

His heart stretches the skin of his chest forward with every beat. He tastes iron. He turns his head to face the ceiling.

Keeping his eyes to the sky, Aidan responds “I’ll miss you too.”

Finally, past their rooms and past their home gym, he exits the hallway. Air returns to his lungs. He turns right. The spiral marble stairway awaits him below, so he borrows the movement of an accomplished gymnast to carry him down. Nary a breath nor movement goes to waste.

Now off of the stairs, an incessant bitter fog clings to the back of his throat, diffusing into him. Forbidding himself any water, he makes his way across the polished wooden floor towards a seldom visited elevator tucked behind the folds of plain sight. Not a sound as he goes down, and not a sound as he comes out.

Doors sparsely litter the suffocating, outwardly unfinished hallway. Aidan never understood how a place so beautiful could house something so ugly. The room itself, its back wall lined from top to bottom by a giant monitor, is quite modern. In the middle of it is a decagonal table, and while he isn't the tallest—nor is he the shortest—member of Silenzio, it reaches his knee. Squatting, he inserts the corpse of the usb into the primary tower. That's all it really takes. Eleven days. An entire week of thirty two hours each gone like the memories of an ageing patient. Cyber security the likes of which both Ayesha and Giuseppe would show their disappointment with. Back into his glove it goes.

Having left the room without a trace, he takes a moment in the elevator to recognise that the air doesn’t taste the same anymore. However, he doubts he'll ever be able to tell what it is, nor does he think he wants to. Aidan takes his last steps into the foyer, ready to breach the threshold between now and the rest of his life.

By the door is a picture of them all. One taken too long ago for him to remember, but he does recognise it. He only looks at it for a second, yet he can feel Leo’s violet eyes stare through him all the same. This is not the time to be plagued with tears. One step with the force of a million.

Despite the heat, the wind nibbles on his skin. Awaiting him is what can only be described as an armoured family minivan. Aidan enters. Whereas his mind scratches and claws at him, his body alone leads the drive out of the estate, proving to him the husk he’s become. Faster than Leo’s suspicions, but slow enough to ensure they don't creep up on him. The house is now a mere smudge within his rear view mirror, and the remote finds itself in his rigid hand.

“I'm sorry, I loved you,” he whispers, finger flicking the switch.

If only Bri could see the fireworks, because at least in her ignorance she could enjoy the show.

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nono-uwu · 16 days

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Hello hi here is what alignments ons characters would have in path to nowhere :3 (and i give zero context for my reasoning!) Also feel free to add on/make suggestions for other characters!

(Tierlist maker fried the images holy shit)

Characters not included bc i have no fugin clue where to put them: Mitsuba, Chess, Horn

Characters not included bc I was too lazy to grab their images: everyone else lmao

Explanations for each alignment utc! (aka the flavor text in game)

Violence: Boiling blood torments the body of the violent one. Neither love not hatred matters anymore. - No matter how you try, you will be forever mired in blood

Love: The lover's upturned gaze fixes on the sky above the cliff, as if longing for an unattainable aim of desire. - Fulfill my most frantic loneliness

Greed: Greed will ever expand and snowball into a massive, bone-crushing boulder. - You wish to dominate all, but you will perish a servant

Treachery: Paths of the earth become as fatal as a frozen lake with cracks. Icy demise is at the slightest misstep. - The faithless, the insincere, the dishonest - their soul do not return

Limbo: The limbo one tries to see through Fate's plan, yet has learbed how arduous it is to seek the meaning of life. - Blind idiot, all is vanity

Anger: The angry trudges through mud, searching for a clear path. The answer's not out there; it reflects from within. - The fire of rage may burn out, but I am their fuel

Heresy: Wrath of authority trails closely behind, vowing to chase heretics into the eternal hellfire of the sarcophagus. - Outside of the light, I dwell in shadow

Sloth: The heart of the sloth stays where it is. Even if there are countless roads in front, they shall balk at moving forward. - Cherish the outmoded and preserve the outworn, stubbornly fetering oneself

Fraud: The fraud believes in what they think is true, and therefore feels they can manipulate everything. - The deluded take refuge in the dark, and those who fool others have no place to return to

Immortal: The one who sleeps here is not deceased. Under the light of the red moon, there is an end to death. - Retrograde without return, withered and sunken

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