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mika-mp3 · 9 months ago

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The treasure is all mine

-chapter four-

(Prologue, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three)

Genshin Impact x Creator!Reader

warnings: possible spelling errors, no y/n used, takes place after the sumeru archon quest

summary: after resting, your new friends tell you their plan to visit the dendro archon. You were very excited but had no idea what trouble little actions of yours can bring.

characters: Tighnari, Collei, Nilou, Wanderer (Hat Guy), Nahida, some guard npc's

word count: 3408

wattpad story here

https://pin.it/GipbEvjeb

Tighnari's words from the previous night echoed in your mind. The journey to uncover your true identity was just beginning, and with the support of your new friends, they felt ready to face whatever lay ahead. The path forward was uncertain, but it was also filled with hope and the promise of discovery.

You awoke to the delicious aroma of fresh fruit and baked bread wafting through the air. The scent of ripe berries, citrus, and something sweet filled your senses, inviting you to rise from the warmth of your blankets. As you blinked away the remnants of sleep, you noticed the soft morning light streaming through the window, casting gentle shadows on the wooden floor. Slowly, you sat up and stretched, feeling the comforting ache of a good night's sleep. The previous day's journey and the warmth of Tighnari and Collei's hospitality had done wonders for your weary body. You glanced around, taking in the cozy, rustic interior of Tighnari's home, the shelves lined with various plants, books, and trinkets.

As you made your way outside, you found Tighnari and Collei already seated at a small wooden table laden with a simple but inviting breakfast spread. There were freshly baked bread, colorful fruits, and a pot of fragrant tea. The morning sun bathed the village in a golden light, highlighting the intricate architecture and lush greenery.

"Good morning!" Collei greeted with a bright smile as you joined them. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, very well, thank you," you replied, taking a seat and feeling the warmth of their kindness envelop you once more.

"Help yourself," Tighnari said, gesturing to the food. "We have a lot to discuss today."

You nodded, grateful for the sustenance and the company. As you ate, Tighnari began to explain their plan. "After discussing things last night, we decided it would be best to take you to the Dendro Archon," Tighnari said between bites. "She possesses great wisdom and knowledge, and if anyone can help you uncover your past and identity, it's her."

"The Dendro Archon?" you echoed, feeling a mixture of awe and anticipation.

"Yes," Collei confirmed. "But we need to gather a few supplies for the journey. It will take some time, so you have a chance to explore the village while we prepare."

You nodded, understanding the importance of the plan. "Thank you, both of you. I really appreciate everything you're doing for me."

"It's our pleasure," Tighnari said with a reassuring smile. "Feel free to look around and get to know the place. Gandharva Village is a special community, and I'm sure you'll find it quite interesting."

After finishing breakfast, you stepped outside into the vibrant village. The morning sun bathed Gandharva Village in a golden light, highlighting the intricate architecture and lush greenery. The village, often referred to as "The City Above the Forest," was a marvel of design, with houses built into the trees and connected by winding bridges and pathways. As you wandered through the village, you noticed that many of the villagers were glancing at you curiously. Their expressions were a mix of friendliness and intrigue, as if they were trying to understand who you were and what had brought you to their home.

After a few minutes of strolling through the village, you came across a group of children playing near a large tree. They were laughing and chasing each other, their joy infectious. When they spotted you, they paused and approached with wide eyes and eager smiles.

"Hi! Are you new here?" one of the children asked, their curiosity shining brightly.

"Yes, I am," you replied with a smile. "What are you all up to?"

"We're just playing," another child said, their eyes sparkling. "Do you want to join us?"

Feeling a surge of warmth and happiness, you nodded. "Sure, I'd love to. How about I teach you something I learned from some very special friends of mine?"

The children gathered around, their excitement palpable. You sat down on the grass and began to show them how to make flower crowns, just as the Aranara had taught you. The children watched with fascination, their small hands eager to mimic your movements.

"First, you need to find some pretty flowers and sturdy stems," you explained, demonstrating as you spoke. The children scattered, collecting flowers and stems from the surrounding area, their laughter filling the air.

Once they returned, you guided them through the process, weaving the flowers together to create beautiful crowns. The children were quick learners, and soon they were proudly wearing their creations, their faces beaming with pride and joy.

"This is so fun!" one of the children exclaimed, adjusting their flower crown.

"Thank you for teaching us," another added, their eyes shining with gratitude.

"You're very welcome," you replied, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment. "It's something my friends taught me, and I'm happy to share it with you."

As the children continued to play and create, you felt a sense of peace and belonging. Despite the uncertainties that still lay ahead, moments like these reminded you of the simple joys and connections that made life meaningful. Soon after, Tighnari and Collei called you back to start the travel. Feeling both excited and a bit scared you start the new chapter

The journey through the vibrant and verdant Sumeru rainforest felt surprisingly effortless with Tighnari and Collei by your side. The forest seemed to welcome your presence, the paths almost guiding your steps as the dense foliage parted to make way. Tighnari, with his vast knowledge of flora and fauna, pointed out various plants and creatures, sharing fascinating tidbits about each one. Collei, though initially quiet, soon opened up, her laughter and stories adding warmth to the journey. The camaraderie between the three of you created a comforting rhythm, each step taken with a shared purpose and growing bond.

Before long, the towering silhouette of the Academia came into view, its majestic spires rising above the treetops. The awe-inspiring structure, built upon a colossal tree, seemed to defy gravity with its intricate architecture and grand design. The sight filled you with a mix of anticipation and wonder. With Tighnari and Collei's support, the path to discovering your past felt clearer and more achievable. The closer you got to the Academia, the stronger the feeling of hope and purpose grew, propelling you forward towards the answers you sought.

The bustling capital of Sumeru came into view, its port teeming with activity. Ships unloaded their cargo as merchants and travelers from all over Teyvat mingled, creating a lively and colorful scene. Market stalls lined the streets, offering everything from exotic spices to intricate jewelry. The aroma of freshly baked bread and ripe fruits filled the air, mingling with the sounds of lively bargaining and cheerful chatter. The buildings were adorned with intricate carvings and lush greenery, their architecture blending seamlessly with the natural beauty of the rainforest.

As you walked through the city with Tighnari and Collei, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and excitement. The sheer vibrancy of the capital was overwhelming. "Can we look around first before meeting the Archon?" you asked, your eyes wide with curiosity. Tighnari nodded, understanding your eagerness to explore. "Of course," he said. "There's much to see here. We'll head towards the Grand Bazaar first. It's a place filled with wonder and culture."

As you made your way through the bustling streets, the crowd seemed to part for Tighnari and Collei, their presence as respected Forest Rangers earning them nods and smiles from the townsfolk. The Grand Bazaar was a vibrant hub of commerce and culture nestled under the giant tree that supported the Academia. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter and music filled the air.

Before you could reach the entrance to the tunnel leading to the Grand Bazaar, a captivating sight caught your eye. A red-haired girl in a flowing blue dress adorned with beautiful gold and silver accessories was dancing gracefully. Her movements were fluid and enchanting, as if she was telling a story with every step. Her hair, a cascade of crimson waves, flowed around her as she twirled, and her eyes sparkled with joy and passion. The small group of children watching her were completely captivated, their eyes wide with wonder.

Tighnari and Collei smiled, recognizing her immediately. "That's Nilou," Tighnari explained. "She dances for the Zubayr Theater, located in the Grand Bazaar. Her performances are legendary around here."

Nilou's dance was mesmerizing. She moved with an ethereal grace, each motion perfectly synchronized with the music that played softly in the background. Her dress fluttered like petals in the wind, and her bare feet seemed to barely touch the ground. It was as if she was dancing on air, her every move a testament to her skill and dedication. The children watched in awe, clapping and cheering with delight.

When Nilou noticed you watching, she beckoned you to join her. At first, you hesitated, unsure if you could match her grace. "Me?" you asked, pointing to yourself. Nilou nodded with a warm smile, her eyes inviting and encouraging.

Collei gently nudged you forward. "Go on," she said with a smile. "It's a rare opportunity to dance with someone as talented as Nilou. Besides, it looks like fun!"

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. Under Nilou's expert guidance, you found it surprisingly easy to follow her lead. She moved with such fluidity and grace that it felt natural to mimic her movements. Her hands guided yours, her smile reassuring you. The crowd began to grow, more and more people stopping to watch the impromptu performance. Their cheers and applause were a testament to Nilou's captivating presence and your newfound courage.

More and more people stopped to watch, and soon a small crowd had gathered, captivated by the performance. The energy was infectious, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else. You were lost in the dance, the rhythm of the music, and the joy of the moment.

The crowd, however, began to cause a bit of congestion, blocking the merchants from entering and leaving the tunnel to the bazaar. This attracted the attention of the city guards, who moved in to disperse the crowd for safety reasons. One of the guards, carrying a spear like the others, approached you with a stern expression. "Please follow me," he said. "The Lesser Lord Kusanali has requested to meet you."

The sudden request made you nervous, and Nilou's expression turned worried. She stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Don't be afraid," she said softly. "The Lesser Lord is kind and wise. If she wants to meet you, it must be important."

Tighnari and Collei rushed to your side, having heard the guards words as well. "Don't worry," Tighnari reassured you. "It will be okay. We'll be with you every step of the way."

Collei nodded, her expression serious but kind. "We won't leave your side," she said firmly. "You're not alone in this."

With your friends by your side, you followed the guard up towards the Academia. The path spiraled upwards, each step taking you higher and higher. The grandeur of the Academia loomed closer, its magnificent structure both intimidating and awe-inspiring. The buildings were intricately designed, with ornate carvings and lush greenery adorning their surfaces. The closer you got, the more the air seemed to hum with an almost palpable energy.

Finally, you reached the grand doors of the Academia, standing tall and imposing before you. As the doors slowly opened, you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The interior was just as grand as the exterior, with high ceilings, elegant archways, and an atmosphere of quiet reverence. With Tighnari and Collei at your side, you stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited you inside.

The doors to the Academia swung open, revealing an interior that took your breath away. The first room you entered was vast and round, dominated by a magnificent water fountain in the center. The water cascaded gracefully, its gentle splashing echoing softly throughout the chamber. Around the fountain, potted plants added a touch of verdant beauty, their leaves glistening in the light. Above, a grand chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its crystals catching and reflecting the light, casting shimmering patterns on the polished floor below. Additional stand lanterns lined the room, their soft glow adding to the serene ambiance.

The room buzzed with activity as students moved about, their expressions serious and focused. The atmosphere was markedly different from the bustling port and vibrant bazaar outside; here, the weight of knowledge and scholarship was palpable. Some students paused to stare at your group, their curiosity evident, but their attention didn't deter your determined progress.

You followed the guard through the room, your footsteps echoing on the marble floor. The halls of the Academia were lined with more intricate carvings and adorned with lush greenery, a testament to the harmonious blend of nature and intellect that defined Sumeru. As you walked, you couldn't help but be struck by the sheer scale and beauty of the architecture.

Your journey led you to a grand library, a sanctuary of knowledge and learning. The vast number of books lining the shelves was truly impressive, each tome a repository of wisdom waiting to be explored. The library was illuminated by more of the elegant chandeliers, their light casting a warm, inviting glow over the numerous tables where students sat engrossed in their studies. The air was filled with the quiet rustle of pages turning and the soft murmur of scholarly discussions.

The most impressive feature of the library, however, was the stained glass ceiling. Intricate designs in shades of blue and green formed a breathtaking mosaic above, casting beautiful light patterns on the floor below. The interplay of colors created an ethereal atmosphere, making the library feel like a sacred place of learning and reflection.

In the middle of the library was a smaller, round room that piqued your curiosity. At first, you didn't understand its purpose, but as you stepped closer, a sense of familiarity washed over you. Though you had never been here before, you instinctively recognized it as an elevator. The realization was strange, like remembering something from a past life.

You stepped inside the elevator with the guard, Tighnari, and Collei. The doors closed with a gentle whoosh, and you felt the ground begin to lift beneath you. The ascent was smooth and silent, the library slowly disappearing from view through the elevator's glass walls. The higher you went, the more the grandeur of the Academia unfolded before you, each floor revealing more of its architectural marvels and scholarly treasures.

As the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, you found yourself on a higher floor, ready to continue your journey towards the answers you sought. The anticipation in your heart was a mix of excitement and apprehension, each step bringing you closer to the enigmatic Lesser Lord Kusanali and the truth about your mysterious past.

You step out of the elevator and into a round room bathed in a soft, ethereal blue light. The centerpiece of the room is a giant floating blue sphere, rotating slowly and surrounded by intricate constructions that defy your understanding. The size of the sphere is imposing, and multiple staircases wind up to a second floor that encircles the room, adding to the grandeur.

As you take in the breathtaking sight, you finally notice two figures standing before you. One is a small girl, exuding a gentle, calming presence. The other is a boy with a more intense demeanor, his expression a mix of surprise and something deeper, like he has seen a ghost. The girl quickly regains her composure and smiles warmly at you.

"Welcome," she says with a voice as soothing as a breeze through the trees. "You can call me Nahida. And this is Wanderer"

She nods to the boy beside her, wearing a navy blue kasa hat, a black turtleneck bodysuit, a white kimono, and other intricate garments, continues to look at you with a mixture of disbelief and wariness. His attire includes fingerless metallic gloves, black hakama shorts, a thick black and indigo obi belt, knee-high white gaiters, black geta sandals, and a patterned blue half-cape adorned with gold ornaments and a gold feather. This is the Wanderer, and his piercing gaze seems to search for something beyond your appearance.

Nahida's expression turns more serious as she continues, "I called you here to discuss an incident that occurred during the dance at the bazaar. A child was hurt and couldn't get out as quickly as they should have. I don't blame you, but this situation has piqued my interest more than I initially thought."

Before you can respond, Tighnari steps forward, his demeanor respectful yet firm. "Lesser Lord Kusanali, this person has lost their memory and does not even recall their own name. They were found in the forest, and their presence seems to have a profound effect on the environment. Flowers bloom, and they even met and stayed with the Aranara for a while."

Nahida listens intently, her eyes widening slightly as she processes Tighnari's words. "Is that so?" she murmurs, more to herself than anyone else.

The Wanderer finally speaks, his voice tinged with curiosity and skepticism. "The Aranara? Are you telling me they were living with those mythical creatures?"

You nod, feeling the weight of their combined scrutiny. "Yes, I lived with the Aranara for months. They took care of me when I had nowhere else to go."

Nahida's eyes soften with understanding. "It seems there's much more to you than meets the eye. The Aranara are known to be elusive and magical beings. For them to accept you so readily is extraordinary."

The Wanderer crosses his arms, his gaze still sharp but now more thoughtful. "So, what are you, exactly?"

Tighnari interjects again, his voice calm and measured. "We believe they may be something more than human. The forest's reaction, the absence of any scent, and the unusual events surrounding them all point to a deeper mystery. We hoped you might be able to help us uncover the truth, Lesser Lord Kusanali."

Your eyes widen. You had no idea they thought you were something more then a human. However you said nothing, you didn't want to be rude to someone like Nahida and wanted to know more about their theories.

Nahida nods slowly, her mind clearly racing through possibilities. "I see. This is indeed a complex situation. There is a presence about you that is different. We must tread carefully to understand it fully."

The Wanderer, though still skeptical, seems to accept the gravity of the situation. "If anyone can uncover the truth, it's Nahida. She has the wisdom and the connection to this land that we need."

Nahida smiles again, this time with a hint of determination. "We will get to the bottom of this. But first, let's address the immediate concerns and ensure everyone is safe."

The atmosphere in the room shifts from tension to a shared sense of purpose. You feel a mixture of apprehension and hope, knowing that these knowledgeable and powerful individuals are now invested in uncovering your true identity. With their guidance, the path ahead, though uncertain, seems a little less daunting.

After a lengthy discussion, a conclusion is reached: you will remain in Sumeru, living within the bounds of the capital until more is known about your true nature. During this time, you will have unrestricted access to the grand library, a treasure trove of knowledge that will aid in uncovering your past. You will also meet with Nahida once a week. Through various tests and exposures to different environments and stimuli, they will try to learn as much as possible about you.

However, this arrangement means that you won’t be seeing your friends as often. Collei and Tighnari must return to Gandharva Ville to fulfill their duties as forest rangers and caretakers of the rainforest. They promise to visit the capital when they can, but their presence will be sporadic. The Wanderer continues to watch you with suspicion, his eyes never leaving you, as if expecting something to reveal itself at any moment. Nahida, on the other hand, seems to already be forming theories, her mind working quickly behind her gentle eyes.

As you stand there, surrounded by these remarkable individuals, you feel a mixture of hope and sadness. The path to discovering your identity may be long and challenging, but you are not alone. With the support of Nahida and the resources of the Akademiya, you take your first steps toward uncovering the mystery of who you truly are.

https://www.pinterest.de/pin/121456521194198161/

Thank you so much for reading! Fell free to give me feedback and ideas how to continue this!

P.S. Sorry for not posting in a while! I got really sick and wasn't able to do much.

Mika

Taglist:

- @resident-cryptid - @wutap - @saternsky - @vianitry - @fantasyhopperhea - @yamarireads

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin x creator reader #sagau x reader #tighnari x reader #wanderer x reader #Nahida x reader #nilou x reader #collei x reader

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etozheden · 5 months ago

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Charmed locations ↳ The Council of Elders

The Council of Elders is a place where time seems to stand still. Its majestic architecture, inspired by classic colonial style, appears designed to command respect and awe. Behind the heavy oak doors lies a hall where the fates of the magical world are debated. Warm light streams through the tall windows, softly illuminating the ancient wooden benches and the elegant columns supporting the vaulted ceiling. Every detail of the interior tells a story — whether it’s the worn carpet where the sorcerers of the past may have stood, or the antique chandeliers casting light on a room that has echoed with voices shaping the destiny of magic.

From the outside, the building looks like an isolated island of order and knowledge, nestled amidst the lush greenery of Brindleton Bay. This house of history serves as a reminder of the delicate balance between light and darkness, and that even the oldest, most powerful places harbor their own mysteries. Here, every whisper reverberates through the empty hall, making one wonder how many secrets its walls still keep.

#charmed locations #ts4 #the sims 4 #the sims #etozheden #charmed #charmed sims #etozheden charmed #the westwood family #ts4 maxis match #sims #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 #simblr #elders #the elders

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rninies · 1 year ago

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✮ she looks just like a dream

౨ৎ sunday x reader. fluff, fem!reader, ceo!sunday is really hot idc, inspired by tears of themis marius card (iykyk), sunday might be ooc im sorry </3 — wc: 2,836

notes. guys i love sunday i want him so bad please

you hold on to the folds of your dress as you look around at the throng of people around you. two days ago, sunday extended an invitation to you to come to a charity auction he would be hosting tonight. one of his assistants had picked you up soon after you had finished with your paperwork, and here you are, taking in the wondrous architecture of a famous resort’s lobby.

everything looks so expensive here, you think, a grim expression on your face. rich people do have it easy, huh.

“please wait here a moment,” his assistant tells you. “i’ll get your registration finalized for you.”

“thank you.” you smile at him, watching her round the corner and leave you alone. again. you desperately want to give sunday a call, but you know he must be busy greeting guests and taking care of the preparations, so with a heavy sigh, you decide against it.

as you watch the stream of wealthy-looking people come in, a conversation catches your interest.

“who does sunday think he is? ordering people around like that!” you turn your head to see two people, seemingly a bit older than you, talking to each other. “i’ve been in the family's corporations longer than him, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!”

you are just about to approach them, but his assistant bustles back with papers. “your registration is done. come with me, i’ll lead you to the venue.” you turn your head back, about to protest, but causing a scene would be more than you bargained for, so you reluctantly follow him into the elevator.

an awkward silence engulfs the metal box you both are standing in before the assistant breaks it. “you don’t have to worry about what he said. he’s been like this for a long time.”

“eh?” you chirp, shocked. “y-you heard that?”

“yes,” he chuckles. “it’s quite common, i would say. i’m quite used to hearing those awful remarks they say about master sunday. he said he doesn’t mind, anyway, so it’s no use trying to defend him.”

you smile a bit at that. typical, indifferent sunday. “yeah… that’s true,” you murmur as the elevator comes to a halt. when you step out, you immediately feel overwhelmed by the flood of people greeting you.

maybe it’s because you’re used to only seeing a few people in the law firm and the fact that you don’t go out to parties often that you feel nauseous at the sight of the overcrowded room. you tried searching for sunday through the mass, but your height makes it harder for you to see above people’s heads.

you eventually spot him reclining in a chair, talking to a few people you recognize as the VIPs of the event. he looks like he isn’t going to finish any time soon, so you wave your hand and mouth that you’ll be waiting for him as sunday glances at you. your boyfriend gives you a small smile before turning his attention back to the group.

there is something different about sunday on this occasion, you decide. you’re used to seeing him in suits at important events, but the fact that his family crest is embossed on the suit makes it so much different. he looks so… different.

“y/n?” sunday's voice knocks you out of your daydream and back into reality. “why do you look so dazed? do i look so attractive that you aren’t able to take your eyes off me?”

your face flushes red, quickly turning away. “w-what are you talking about? you don’t look attractive. i was simply thinking about what drink to get,” you say, regaining your composure. though, you aren’t able to deny the fact that sunday is indeed attractive, even in his normal attire.

curse him and his family genes, you think to yourself.

“eh? love, why are you so mean to me these days?” sunday whines, his infamous puppy dog eyes coming into play. he always uses them on you, knowing they have such an effect on you. there isn’t a single moment in which the use of his puppy dog eyes doesn't make you tell the truth or agree to something he suggested. you, however, learned how to resist sunday's temptations.

“never mind that, mr. sunday,” you remark, a twinkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “if you were busy, you didn’t have to come to me. it looks like people are still wanting to talk to you,” you say, looking around at the throng almost surrounding you both. sunday gives a little chuckle.

“mm, that’s true. i’m quite famous, aren’t i?” sunday returns rather smugly, making you frown. “i’m just kidding! either way, i’m pretty sure they already understand that if I am currently talking to you, i don’t want to be disturbed because no one is trying to disturb-”

“excuse me, master sunday,” sunday's assistant appears, cutting sunday off abruptly. “there’s someone here who’d like to speak to you.”

the heir of the family sighs. “you really had to choose the worst timing,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i’ll be back, so stay put,” sunday continues, leaving to follow his assistant. you watch him until he’s out of sight, getting up to choose a drink. refreshers in every shade of color are laid out on the table that you almost don’t know which to pick.

“are you having trouble choosing a drink, my lady?” an unfamiliar voice emerges behind you, and turning around you realize that it is one of the men complaining about sunday in the lobby. “you don’t look too familiar with these drinks so how about you let me help you, hm?”

you cringe slightly at the attempt to flirt, but you offer him a smile in hopes of being polite. “oh, um, no thank you. i can get someone else to help me.”

the man shows no signs of leaving you alone, making you even more uncomfortable. “are you sure? all of the staff are busy as of the moment, so i can help.”

i might as well accept his offer. he doesn’t look like he’ll take no as an answer, you grimace before forcing a pleasant smile on your face. “okay, sure. which drink should-”

“ah, there you are!” sunday materializes, wrapping a hand around your waist and leaning over you. “i’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart,” he drawls, you raise an eyebrow at the use of the new pet name. you soon catch up with the fact that he’s trying to help you out of this awkward situation.

“sunday! sorry for disappearing. i got thirsty and wanted to get something to drink so here i am,” you take a look at the man beside you, who lets out a ‘tch’ with a scowl on his face and leaves, allowing you to let your breath go. “thanks, sunday. he wouldn’t leave me alone ever since i got to this table.”

“yuki, huh,” sunday mutters, arm still around you. “he’s always been trying to get on my nerves. ever since i was revealed to be the heir to family corporation, that is.”

“really?” you query, surprise crossing over your face. “i overheard him- oh!” an exclamation leaves your sentence hanging as a waiter accidentally bumps into you, spilling the drinks he was carrying onto your dress.

“ah! i am so sorry, madam!” the waiter panics, whipping out a few napkins in an attempt to wipe away the mess on your dress. “i wasn’t watching my step, please forgive me!” he looks even more nervous when he glimpses sunday standing beside you with a minuscule frown on his face.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! this happens a lot during parties anyway,” your try at calming the waiter down wasn’t working, so you nudge sunday to help you reassure the former.

“ow!” sunday hisses, tenderly rubbing the area you elbowed. “i-it’s okay. just be more careful of where you’re going next time, okay?”

“yes!” the waiter squeaks out and leaves, but not before gracing you with another ‘sorry!’ for his mistake. as soon as he disappears, a small pout envelops your face.

“aw, now what am i supposed to do?” you wonder, patting your stained dress with a few more tissues sunday offers you. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”

“hehe,” sunday's little laugh catches your attention, and you furrow your eyebrows in reply. “you, my lady, are in luck because you have the sunday as your boyfriend and he’s always prepared for emergencies like this. come on, let’s go to the guest room.”

“why are we going there?” you question. you’re used to sunday and his little surprises, but you never imagined that he would have a spare change of clothes lying around for you to wear.

“to get you to change, of course!” sunday responds enthusiastically, grabbing a hold of your hand. he finds his assistant first, though, “if anyone asks where i am, tell them i have an important matter to take care of.”

you let out a giggle. “really? important matter? how is this important?”

“that’s because you’re always the most important in my eyes,” sunday tells you with his boyish grin, and he says with such ease that your cheeks are dusted pretty pink. you smile to yourself, a giddy grin, feeling as if it were only you and sunday in the world.

“okay, here we are,” sunday says as you arrive at a room, unlocking it with a gold-clasped key he procures from his pocket. “you can go ahead and change. i’ll wait out here.”

you nod in agreement, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. your gaze immediately falls upon a strikingly gorgeous violet dress laid out on the bed before you, adorned with layers and layers of deep purple that glows under the soft moonlight; complimenting the necklace spread out beside it.

at first glance, it seems like a normal necklace anyone could find in jewelry stores, but as you step forward to take a closer look, you let out a soft gasp: your name is engraved on it. you pick it up, noting how the necklace itself feels expensive.

though, you suppose, you should be used to expensive gifts from sunday. the man had been doing this even before they were dating. you let out a fond sigh; a small smile on your face as you take your dirty dress off to change into the one sunday had prepared.

sunday didn’t have to wait long for you, for you soon opens the door. sunday eyes widen, staring at you in the dress and the necklace he had bought two weeks previously. you look stunning.

you look like you had just stepped out of a fantasy royal novel.

a princess.

you look just like a dream. the prettiest girl sunday has ever seen.

“sunday? hello?” you wave a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his daydream. “h-how do i look?”

“gorgeous,” sunday isn’t able to say anything other than that; his mind malfunctioning faster than his coffee machine had done this morning. “it-it looks really nice on you. i mean, of course it does, i was the one who chose that dress anyway.”

you press a quick, gentle kiss on sunday's lips, causing sunday to freeze on the spot for the second time that evening. “thank you, sunday. i loved the necklace too, by the way.”

sunday gives you a small smile and another peck on the cheek. “let’s go. the auction is about to start soon,” he says, extending his hand to you and feeling his heart flutter as you take it.

the room they had left is filled with even more people, and if you were being honest, it was suffocating you. you take a seat close to the brightly decorated stage, watching sunday take control of the whole room.

“everyone, welcome to the second charity auction event hosted by the family corporation!” sunday exclaims joyously, as the people in the venue applaud politely. “i won’t be taking too much time for tonight’s opening ceremony, so, without further ado, let the event start!” sunday bows, and signals to the auctioneer to take the lead as he returns to your side.

the auction, with quite a few bidders raising the prices of objects you think shouldn’t cost more than a few hundred dollars, goes smoothly until it reaches the last object.

“alright, our last item for tonight! an amethyst hairpin starting at the cost of one thousand dollars!” the auctioneer states, waiting for bids.

“two thousand!” a hand emerges from the crowd.

“tch… three thousand!”

“three thousand five hundred!”

“four thousand!”

“ten thousand,” sunday interrupts smoothly, shocking both you and the audience. you stare wide-eyed at him, in disbelief that he would bid that much in an auction you didn’t expect him to participate in.

“ten thousand dollars from mr. sunday! going once,” counting down, the auctioneer stares around, but no one seems ready to object. “going twice… sold to mr. sunday at ten thousand dollars!” applause erupts from the audience, congratulating sunday for obtaining the hairpin. you clap as well, figuring out who sunday would spend that much money on a hairpin for (though, to be honest, you already have a feeling who it’s for).

you soon find out though - his assistant soon brings the hairpin over to sunday, who inspects it closely, smiling as he hands it over to you. “here, it’s for you.”

“eh?!” you cry out, in shock, that sunday would be giving you something worth more than your whole apartment. “wh-what do you mean? i thought- wait, huh?!”

sunday only laughs gaily at your reaction, eliciting the attention of bystanders. “why are you so shocked? the necklace you’re wearing costs almost as much as this hairpin. plus, this is a thank-you gift. i know you don’t really like going to big events like this but you still came.”

“of course i did,” you beam softly. “you’re my boyfriend after all - wouldn’t miss any of your events for the world. now, did you want to place the hairpin on me?”

sunday nods, sliding the hairpin slowly into your beautiful hair. the light shade of purple the hairpin reflects matches the dress you had on, and the sight makes sunday's heart fill with joy.

there’s something about you that feels different in sunday's eyes. you look so… dazzling and gorgeous that he fumbles for words to express himself.

“hm, it matches you very well as expected,” sunday says, a soft tone engulfing his usual cheeky voice. “now then, would you like to escape, my lady?”

“huh?” the sound barely leaves your mouth before sunday drags you away from the auction site, quickly getting into an elevator and pressing the doors shut before anyone could catch up to them. as soon as it opens again at the lobby, sunday makes a beeline for the exit, you thankfully not tripping on your heels.

sunday spots an empty park up ahead, and as expected sunday dashes across to it, letting go of your hand as you both drop to the grass.

you both lie in silence for a few moments, panting, before bursting into sweet laughter that interrupts the solace of the quiet evening.

“that… was probably one of the most epic moments i had… since forever!” sunday exclaims, turning to you with happiness painted over his face. “i was surprised you didn’t try protesting in the elevator.”

“how could i?” you return, out of breath. “i wanted to get out of there… as well. as much as i liked being with you in the family's events, i’d rather have it this way. just the two of us.”

“hm. just the two of us, huh? aw, you flatter me, baby,” sunday coos at you. he suddenly sits up, fumbling through the folds of his suit and sighing in relief when he holds his phone up. “oh, thank god. i thought i left my phone back there,” giving you a small smile, a familiar song starts playing. “would you like to dance, my lady?”

you take his smooth, outstretched hand, placing both hands on his broad shoulders while sunday places one of his hands on your waist.

you both aren’t doing anything special, barely any experience in dancing, and yet your bodies flow gracefully to the tune of the gentle song across the chilly night wind, dancing slowly under the glow of the moon.

with your foreheads pressed against each other’s, you lock eyes, basking in the beautiful moment together. relaxing never came easy to you both, given your incredibly busy schedules, but once given the chance, you both will take it in a heartbeat.

the familiar worries of being rude don’t cross your mind at all, realizing that you’re too focused on sunday. slow dancing in the dark with only the moon to light their dance floor, away from the chatter of the crowd. absolutely perfect.

the song quickly comes to an end, ending your lover’s dance with a small brush of lips.

“i love you so much, sunday” you whisper softly.

“i love you more, love,” sunday replies, the ghost of a grin upon his lips.

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hiskillingjar · 7 months ago

Text

Castration (Strade/MC)

well. you did say dinner, right?

day 4: castration second person. amab reader. cw for gruesome genital mutilation (duh) and mentions of true crime

“You know what Germany is most famous for, right?”

You blinked wearily, shaking cold water off your skin and out of your hair with an exhausted jerk of your head.

You had been jolted out of the comforting void of blissful unconsciousness by a splash of water, courtesy of your captor, no doubt because he was bored and wanted to play with his new toy before he broke it beyond repair.

You might have felt sick referring to yourself as a toy at one point, but now, it felt like a relief to be able to refer to yourself at all.

“Huh?” You blinked again as he set the water pail down and stepped around you. “What?”

“It's not for our architecture or culture, or the god-awful food, no,” Strade started to explain, squatting down for a moment to hastily untie your wrists from the support beam you were propped against. “It seems to be something as strange as cannibalism! Can you believe that?”

“Mm…” You murmured sluggishly, letting your heavy head sink forward and not listening to him, as he forced you to stand on shaking legs, pale flesh riddled with bloody holes and streaming with pus and fluid, making your body look more and more like a battlefield of pain.

“No, no, keep your head up.” He chided softly, reaching forward to curl a fist into your hair and yank it back, firmly, against the support beam, jolting you out of your daze. “Don’t you know it’s rude to pass out when someone is talking to you?”

“R-Right…” You nodded the best you could in his grip, an ever-pliant hostage (not that your obedience had done you much good) and let your body be moved into a new position.

Your raw and bloody wrists were raised high above your head and suspended in the air with the support of a new rope (as rough and coarse as the last one), slung over one of the basement’s bannisters and hoisting you to your trembling tip-toes and stretching your skinny body out painfully.

Like a dead rabbit in a butcher’s display, wet muscles shimmering in the light.

“I mean, it's not like I'm offended or anything.” He continued, tucking the end of the rope between your wrists (making the knot that much tighter) and pacing back to your front, his hands on his hips. “It's just, ah...a bit stereotypical, right? I can't watch one of America's horror films without some mention of it. Ridiculous!”

Your eyes went above your head and towards the ropes, where you were swinging from a hangman’s noose, before going back to him.

“What…are you doing?” You asked, a slight frown pulling down your features.

“Seriously!” He emoted widely, like he hadn’t even heard you, before turning his back to you and rifling through one of the drawers. “It's more common than even Nazis now, which, you know,” He held his arms out in a quasi-shrug, despite still facing away from you. “I appreciate that, but we've barely had any actual cannibals at all.”

“Strade, what are you doing?” You said again, raising your voice and trying to be heard over the rifling, jumbling sounds of heavy metal on metal.

“Okay, okay, so I'll concede that we did have the most famous one. You know the guy, he went looking for victims online?” He stopped rooting through the drawer and looked to the side, as if trying to appear thoughtful (when you were sure he had little else on his mind than how to hurt you). “What was his name? Mi-wes...Mee-wes…"

"Strade-"

"YES, Meiwes!” He exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. “He was a character, wasn't he? But, ah, quite the romantic if you think about it, ja?"

He turned back to face you with an ever-casual smile creasing his handsome features, pleased to have found what he was looking for.

A pair of thick, heavy wire cutters.

You swallowed, the harsh bulge of your Adam’s apple bobbing in your dry throat as you felt a trickle of cold water run down the back of your neck.

Or was it sweat?

"I don't…” You stammered, shivering at the cold and pulling at your ropes, trying to relieve the aching balls of your feet. “I don't understand."

“You think too much,” Strade grinned (sick and twisted, like the Devil he was) as he took a step closer to you. “It really won’t get you anywhere good, you know.”

Your heart raced and your chest tightened, watching him close the gap completely, pressing a strong hand against the small of your back and pulling your naked body close to his.

"Yes, yes, he was a real romantic.” He continued his previous train of thought, moving the cutters down your stomach, trembling from the persisting cold. “Certainly more so than your, ah, Amerikaner cannibals, Gein and Dahmer, those idiots.” He made a sympathetic ‘tsk’ with his tongue and shook his head. “Poor guy just wanted to feel someone inside him. I say…”

He moved the open, sharpened blades of the cutters around the base of your cock.

“There are easier ways to do that, Meiwes, but I'm never one to judge."

Your eyes snapped down almost instantly, practically bulging out of your skull when he squeezed the handle experimentally, the cool metal digging deep into your skin.

"Oh god," You whispered, manic eyes going back up to him. “Don’t, don’t, please-”

"The problem was," He said, sounding as casual as talking about the weather. "He had a taste of it, the fellow he decided to make his meat, and didn't even like it!” He let out a bark of a laugh, making you flinch and the blade snag painfully on the flaccid length of your cock. “How tragic!"

"Oh god, oh god,” You moaned, biting your cracked lip to stop yourself from crying out. “No-"

"It was all gristle, he said.” Strade continued to elaborate. “He cut off his cock,” He squeezed the handle again, teasing you, wanting you to flinch and cower even more and cause yourself even more damage. “And it was too much to bite through. Like the poor sucker died for nothing."

"Please no-"

"That's the thing though.” He suddenly pulled the cutters back from your cock and gestured them against his stubbly chin, as if deep in thought. You wouldn’t let yourself feel relief yet, though, especially when the bloody mark already marring your skin was making your entire pelvis thrum with pain. “He probably told himself that it was all for love, sex, the works, right? Got himself convinced and even found a sorry faggot to go along with it."

Your pale stomach trembled even more, and you felt it begin to churn.

"Strade, please," You pleaded, as if you hadn’t pleaded enough already. “Please let me down, please let me go…”

"But honestly?” Strade shrugged again and lowered the cutters back down, squeezing even tighter, each of the blades digging in firmly, painfully. “What he actually wanted was to feel power over someone else. To feel like he was the apex predator and not, ah, the sad geek that he really was, you know?"

He squeezed again, and you could feel the skin start to split, blood beading down your shrinking ballsack and your thighs

"No, nononono," You kept pleading, shaking your head erratically, a sudden stream of hysterical tears coming before you could get the chance to stop them. “No, please, stop-”

"He couldn't hack it. Some of us aren't born to be predators, are we, mein herr?” He smirked. the good-natured smirk that you had fallen in love with at the bar, before raising a dark brow.

Fuck you for falling for it, you told yourself. Fuck you for being so lonely that you went home with the first guy who was nice to you.

You hopeless, little cocksucker.

Fuck you.

“S-S-Strade…” You whimpered, a sticky rivulet of snot running over your grimacing lips, tears stinging your red eyes. “Don’t-”

“Now me, on the other hand?"

"NO NO NO NO NO!!!" You screamed like a dying animal, thrashing against the ropes, trying to get away. “STOP, NO, NONONONO!!!”

The cutters chewed through the meat of your cock with barely a modicum of effort, severing the flaccid appendage at the base with a sickeningly soft and wet thud when it fell to the cement floor.

Your voice cracked from the pure, primal power of the scream, the pain like nothing you had felt in your life, and petered into wet, heaving and loud sobs, too much to keep inside. Rivers of blood covered your trembling thighs and drooled out of the useless mess of your groin.

It felt like dying. And you wanted, so badly, to die.

"I wouldn't waste my energy on something like that. A real predetor knows not to."

Strade didn’t seem bothered by your screams, as he squatted down to your feet and picked up the bloody pile of wet flesh that used to be your cock, smirking as it flopped, uselessly, between his fingers.

"A real predetor earns his supper, properly,” He said, looking up at your dead eyes, his own glittering with malice. “And he enjoys every morsel. "Guten appetit, ja?"

He put it into his mouth, and you couldn’t stop yourself before your head sank down, somehow even lower than it was before, and you threw up down yourself, a brownish mush of water and regurgitated protein bars covering your chest and joining the still streaming blood on the cement floor.

“Mm. Gross.”

Strade grimaced as he chewed, meat ground between his molars and his eyes suddenly thoughtful again. He spat out the mouthful of flesh, though, before wiping the blood from his lips while his teeth were still stained with it.

Like the predator he was.

“He did have a point, though. A little too grainy for my tastes."

#strade btd #strade ykmet #strade x reader #strade x mc #kinktober 2024 #one of the faves #lol

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bestducky · 2 days ago

Text

Master Chief x fem! Reader

Chapter 4: That's one big map!

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Summary: Bridges made of light!? Portals!? Can we please use a normal form of transportation!

Notes: Things get more interesting, I changed some scenes from the game, otherwise everything is canon!

The path ahead rose gently, carved from cracked stone and overgrown with wild grass that rustled under their boots. At the summit, something utterly alien dominated the landscape. (Y/N) felt herself slow as they approached. The building was massive—an impossible fusion of nature and machine. Its outer shell gleamed a pale, metallic white under the filtered sunlight, so smooth and seamless it could have been poured from the sky itself. Luminous accents of blue and gold traced delicate patterns across the surface, pulsing softly with a life all their own.

It was beautiful in a way that felt almost cruel.

The air around them buzzed faintly, the hum of unseen energies vibrating against her skin. The closer they got, the more the world itself seemed to quiet—no birds, no insects, only the low, ever-present sound of power thrumming through the ground.

(Y/N) tightened her arms around herself, feeling the rough fabric of her shirt between her fingers. Every logical part of her brain screamed at her to stop, to turn back, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. There was something terrifying about the structure's perfection, something deeply wrong in how it stood untouched by time, by decay, as if it had simply been waiting.

Chief moved ahead without hesitation, his heavy steps unwavering. (Y/N) trailed after him, her own movements cautious, almost reverent. Her gaze flicked across the strange architecture—arching spires, floating platforms suspended in shafts of golden light, walls that shimmered like living stone. She had never seen anything like it. Nothing human, nothing natural.

When they reached the entrance, she hesitated.

The doorway stood three stories high, no hinge or seam, only veins of light tracing its edges. No handle, no welcome—just silent, mathematical permission. Then, with a deep, resonant groan, the metal split along hidden seams. Panels shifted and slid into the walls with fluid precision, revealing a passageway beyond. Cold air spilled out, brushing against her skin with a strange electric bite.

(Y/N) flinched back instinctively, heart hammering against her ribs. She had seen automatic doors before—at malls, at hospitals—but this was different. There had been no sensor, no sound of hydraulics, no visible command. It had reacted to them as if it knew they were there.

She stared into the gaping entrance, her muscles locked in indecision. Every part of her screamed that this was wrong, that stepping through would be a mistake she couldn’t undo. She looked toward Chief. He waited at the threshold, one solid hand resting lightly against the frame, his gold visor reflecting her small, frozen figure back at her.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the sharp bite of her nails against her palms, and forced herself to move. One step. Another.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the hum grew stronger. Not louder—but deeper, like a bass note thrumming in the bones of the world. The air inside was colder, thinner, laced with a metallic tang that tasted like ozone.

The walls of the corridor were impossibly smooth, curving upward into a vaulted ceiling etched with glowing lines of shifting script. The floor underfoot was the same seamless white metal, marred only by hairline fractures spiderwebbing outward like old scars. Shafts of pale light streamed down from hidden sources far above, catching in the mist that clung low around their boots.

(Y/N) slowed, tilting her head back to stare at the dizzying height. Awe prickled down her spine, battling fear. It was too much. Too alien. Her engineer's brain itched to understand the mechanics of it—the materials, the construction—but her instincts recoiled. This wasn’t built. This was grown. Or shaped by hands that didn’t think the way human hands did.

Her fingertips brushed lightly against the wall. It was cool to the touch, almost soft, as if the metal itself was breathing. She snatched her hand back, heart leaping.

Chief kept moving ahead at an even pace, scanning the path with methodical sweeps of his rifle. His steady presence anchored her, gave her a rhythm to follow when her mind wanted to spiral into panic.

(Y/N) forced herself to breathe slowly.

One step at a time.

One breath at a time.

The corridor opened wider ahead, revealing a massive inner chamber lit by an eerie, sourceless glow. Great pillars of white stone and metal spiraled toward the unseen ceiling, their surfaces engraved with delicate patterns that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking directly at them. Floating platforms drifted lazily through the air, tethered by thin streams of crackling energy. In the center of the room, a towering obelisk pulsed with soft light, casting long shadows across the misty floor.

She turned slowly in place, trying to take it all in—the impossible architecture, the terrible beauty of it. Her heart ached with the enormity of it all, a sharp, painful longing for home, for anything familiar.

(Y/N) stopped dead in the entrance, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

An immense circular platform stretched out before them, suspended high above a bottomless abyss by columns of shifting, braided light. Floating geometric shapes drifted lazily through the air, orbiting a towering central spire that pulsed with a cool blue glow. Narrow bridges branched out from the platform’s edges, leading into darkness and distant doors she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Above them, the ceiling disappeared into swirling mist lit by shafts of golden sunlight that filtered down like something holy.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her hand tightening instinctively around the hem of her shirt. This wasn’t architecture. This wasn’t construction.

It was like stepping into the exposed skeleton of a god.

A sudden metallic trill echoed overhead. Narrow panels in the floor parted, and a flock of small machines drifted out on columns of pale light—orb-shaped cores ringed by three razor-thin arms that clicked and realigned with unnerving grace. Their central lenses glowed a cool amber as they fanned across the chamber.

(Y/N) took an involuntary step behind Chief’s bulk. “Uh—what are those flying machines?”

“Sentinels,” Cortana supplied, tone matter-of-fact. “Automated Forerunner custodians. They’ll monitor us unless we give them a reason to do something less friendly.”

One Sentinel paused directly in front of (Y/N). A lattice of light swept over her—head to toe—then receded. The machine issued a soft chirp, as if filing her under mildly interesting, and floated away.

She let out the breath she’d been storing. “Good to know we’re only rated ‘minor inconvenience.’ “

Chief resumed his advance, apparently satisfied the drones posed no threat. Their amber eyes tracked him for a moment, then drifted upward, leaving the platform clear for Cortana’s console work. (Y/N) followed slower, unable to tear her eyes from the grandeur towering above and around them, even after the Sentinels had left.

Cortana materialized as Chief slotted her into the console—her form flickering to life in a bloom of soft blue light above the smooth surface.

(Y/N) stopped a few paces back, watching in awe as Cortana's hologram leaned over the console, her fingers moving through holographic displays that shifted and twisted at her command.

"We’re close," Cortana said, her voice sharp and focused. "I’m picking up faint distress signals—"

(Y/N) tilted her head. "From what?"

Cortana glanced over her shoulder at her, faint amusement flashing through her flickering form. "Infinity," she said simply.

(Y/N) blinked. "Infinity?"

Chief answered without looking away from the room, his voice low and steady. "UNSC Infinity. Our supercarrier. Biggest ship in the fleet."

(Y/N) nodded slowly, her mind trying to wrap itself around the concept. Even the words felt too big. Supercarrier. Fleet. It made her world—the small workshops, the crowded streets—feel impossibly distant.

She watched as Cortana plunged deeper into the console’s systems, chasing something only she could see.

Then suddenly, without warning, the entire console shuddered violently. Cortana's form blinked and distorted before being violently ejected in a burst of static, her figure collapsing into thin air.

(Y/N) flinched back instinctively.

Cortana’s voice snapped sharply over the comms. "They’re locking me out of the system!"

The console darkened, streams of glyphs racing like veins across the platform as hidden mechanisms clicked into motion deep beneath the floor.

Chief stepped forward immediately, already assessing, already planning.

Cortana's voice crackled through again. "There’s still a way. Power couplings, connected to the core systems. If we can re-enable them, I can regain control."

(Y/N) watched as parts of the platform shifted—strange mechanical flowers unfolding from the walls to reveal pathways across the abyss.

Two glowing bridges of light—narrow and unstable-looking—extended from the platform toward floating generator nodes embedded in the stone around the perimeter.

Chief started toward the nearest path without hesitation.

(Y/N) stared at the luminous walkway, her heart hammering.

It wasn't solid. It wasn’t natural. It was a ribbon of pure energy stretching over a drop so deep it made her dizzy to look at it.

And yet—

A small, fierce spark lit inside her chest.

Beneath the fear, the awe, the endless crushing wrongness of everything around her, there was something else.

Excitement.

Her hands itched at her sides, aching for tools she didn’t have.

"This is..." she whispered under her breath, almost laughing in disbelief, "This is insane."

Chief paused halfway across the platform, turning slightly to glance back at her.

She shook her head, grinning despite herself. "Back home I was... sort of an engineer," she admitted, voice still breathless with awe. "Or at least, I tried to be."

Her fingers brushed lightly against the glowing lines on the nearest column as she passed, feeling the faint warmth radiating from the Forerunner metal.

"I used to fix broken junk in my apartment," she said, almost to herself. "Now I’m walking on light bridges built by gods."

Chief didn’t answer—he just nodded once, a small, silent approval she could feel in the gesture.

The platform beneath her boots vibrated faintly as the structure shifted again, unseen systems stirring in the depths.

(Y/N) pulled in a slow breath, steadying herself.

She had no tools.

No manuals.

No backup.

But somehow, in this broken, alien place, for the first time in what felt like days—

She wasn’t useless.

Not yet.

Not today.

And that would have to be enough.

They moved across the first bridge of light, the endless drop yawning hungrily below.

Behind them, the Cartographer core pulsed faintly, waiting for the system to come alive again.

And yet, some part of her—buried deep beneath the fear—ached with a different feeling.

Wonder.

Terrible, aching wonder.

(Y/N) hugged herself tightly, trying to hold the feeling together before it could tear her apart.

Chief stood nearby, silent and patient.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

She met his gaze—or rather, the reflection of herself in the gold mirror of his visor—and felt a tiny, fierce spark of determination flicker inside her.

She wasn't ready for this world.

She didn't belong here.

But she was here anyway.

The bridge of light solidified beneath their boots as they moved, humming with an almost musical resonance. (Y/N) kept her eyes forward, trying not to think about the abyss yawning on either side. The first generator came into view—a massive pillar of smooth metal carved with shifting glyphs. Its surface pulsed faintly, a heartbeat buried under layers of ancient code.

Chief reached it first.

He moved with efficiency, placing a gloved hand flat against a recessed panel. A series of symbols flared to life beneath his palm, and with a deep, resonant hum, the pillar began to unfold. Light spilled upward in a sudden surge, stretching back toward the core platform where Cortana waited.

(Y/N) flinched slightly at the sudden flare, but it was beautiful—like watching a sun rise in fast-forward.

Before they could admire it, Cortana’s voice snapped through the comms.

"Contacts! Covenant forces incoming!"

(Y/N)'s blood went cold.

She turned instinctively—and there, across the broken stone and floating pathways, a ripple of distortion twisted into reality. Bright bursts of energy crackled into existence, forming the squat, hunched shapes she recognized from before. Grunts. Behind them, taller, more imposing figures materialized, weapons raised, armor glinting in the strange half-light.

Panic surged in her chest.

Without thinking, she darted toward the nearest cover—an outcropping of fractured Forerunner metal at the edge of the platform. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she pressed herself against the cold surface, heart hammering wildly.

Blasts of plasma sizzled through the air.

Chief was already moving—fluid, precise, a living machine of destruction. He dropped into the fray with brutal efficiency, plasma bouncing harmlessly from his shielded armor as he cleared a path with his rifle.

(Y/N) crouched lower, arms wrapped tight around her knees, fighting the instinct to squeeze her eyes shut.

Stay calm. Stay hidden. Let him handle it.

That had been the plan.

Until she realized where she had ended up.

Through the shifting haze of battle, she spotted it— another generator, nearly identical to the first, tucked against the far side of the platform. The second activation point.

And she was closer to it than Chief was.

Far closer.

(Y/N) hesitated, terror clawing at her throat. Plasma scorched the air overhead. She ducked instinctively, her muscles locking.

She could stay here. Hide.

Let Chief deal with it.

Or—

She swallowed hard, heart slamming against her ribs, and pushed herself up into a low crouch.

I’m not useless. I’m not dead weight.

She forced her legs to move, darting from cover to cover, keeping her body low as she sprinted toward the pillar. Every step felt like it could be her last, but somehow—miraculously—nothing hit her.

The generator towered above her, humming with latent energy.

(Y/N) stared up at it, trying to remember what Chief had done. The panel—his hand—the symbols—

Biting her lip, she mimicked his movements as best she could, pressing her palm flat against the smooth surface.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the pillar pulsed under her hand.

And the entire structure responded—not sluggishly, not with mechanical delay, but immediately. Like a living thing recognizing something familiar.

Light flared upward in a brilliant rush, faster and brighter than before.

(Y/N) flinched back, shielding her eyes.

She stared at the activated console for a stunned second, blinking.

"...Huh," she muttered under her breath, brushing dust off her jeans. "Thought it would take longer."

The words left her mouth without thought, more confusion than pride. She stepped back quickly, scanning for cover again as the battle raged nearby.

Chief, having just cleared the last of the nearby Covenant, turned at the sudden surge of light. His helmet tilted slightly, his posture shifting in that subtle, careful way she was starting to recognize.

Assessing.

Calculating.

Cortana's voice chimed in the comms, sharp but not accusing. "The generator’s online. Faster than expected."

(Y/N) ducked her head, half-shrugging as she jogged back toward them. "Got lucky," she called out breathlessly.

Neither Chief nor Cortana answered immediately. But as she fell into step behind him again, she could feel it—their attention lingering just a moment longer than usual.

Not suspicion, but respect, if she could call it that. Which made her proud, showing them, she wasn’t just useless.

The bridge behind them solidified, a new path unfolding back toward the core platform.

(Y/N) tightened her fists at her sides, her skin still tingling faintly where she had touched the console.

She didn’t understand what had happened.

The chamber shuddered.

A deep, resonant hum rolled through the floor under (Y/N)’s boots, rattling up through her spine as the Cartographer core flared to life.

The central spire blazed upward in a torrent of shifting blue light, expanding outward like a living tree made of pure energy. Thin strands of illumination spiraled across the platform, connecting the floating islands of Forerunner machinery with lines of burning code. Above them, a massive holographic sphere unfolded—spinning slowly, casting fractured light across the mist-filled air.

(Y/N) staggered back half a step, head tilted back in awe. The sphere was enormous, suspended above the platform like a captured star, its surface rippling with images she couldn’t understand—maps, symbols, complex structures forming and dissolving in impossible patterns.

It was breathtaking. And terrifying.

Nothing human could have made this.

She stared, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, lips parted in stunned silence. It wasn’t just technology. It was art. It was language. It was alive in a way no machine back home had ever been.

Cortana flickered into existence at the console nearby, her form brighter now, energized by the facility’s systems. She moved with quick, precise gestures, manipulating the swirling mass of information with her bare hands like a conductor orchestrating a symphony only she could hear.

"There," Cortana said sharply, highlighting a section of the sphere. "Deep beneath the surface. There's an access point near the core. If we reach it, we might be able to find the source of the signal."

Chief stood still, his rifle lowered for now, his gold visor catching and scattering the light from the hologram.

(Y/N) looked between them, frowning slightly. "Wait—core? As in, 'center of the planet' core?"

Cortana didn’t look up. "More or less. This entire installation is built around it."

(Y/N) blinked, then gave a short, incredulous laugh.

"Oh, great," she muttered. "We’re digging our own grave now. Didn’t know self-burial was part of the mission."

Chief’s helmet tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible movement. If he was amused, he gave no sign—but Cortana’s mouth twitched faintly at the corner, a shadow of a smile.

"It’s not ideal," Cortana admitted, her tone dry. "But it's our only option."

The platform beneath them shifted again, deep, grinding tremors rolling through the massive structure as more pathways unfolded—narrow bridges of white stone and shimmering light stretching downward into the misty abyss.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her stomach flipping uncomfortably.

Lower. Always lower.

She shifted the strap of her glasses nervously, tightening her hands into fists to hide the slight tremble in her fingers.

Chief moved first, stepping onto the newly formed bridge without hesitation.

(Y/N) hesitated a breath longer.

The glowing lines pulsed underfoot, inviting them downward into the heart of a dead world.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, voice almost lost in the rising hum. "First the end of the world, now spelunking into alien hell."

Still— she followed.

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The corridor widened until it dissolved into light. Stone gave way to a sweeping ledge, and (Y/N) found herself staring at a sky that seemed too large for any horizon she had ever known. Mountains reared up in fractured ridges, their peaks lost in bright, swirling haze. Great white spires of Forerunner alloy pierced the cliffsides; smaller monoliths hung motionless in mid-air, tethered to the earth below by ribbons of molten-blue energy. Far beneath the ledge, rivers of light wound through silver forests and out across a valley floor she could barely see.

One step carried her onto weather-worn stone. The breeze was thin and metallic—sharp enough to sting her nose, scented with rock dust and something faintly electrical. She gripped her sleeves, half for warmth, half because the view threatened to tip the world sideways.

Back home she’d fixed radios in cramped apartments, brushed rust from broken circuit boards, breathed city air heavy with exhaust. Now she stood on a mountainside that wasn’t even on her star chart—still not sure which star chart she belonged to anymore.

Chief moved ahead along a narrow path etched into the plateau. Cortana’s hologram glimmered at his shoulder, her voice soft in the comm line. “The distress signal’s stronger out here. A Terminus should be deeper in the structure beyond those cliffs.”

(Y/N) followed, forcing calm into her steps. Somewhere overhead a floating platform drifted, its underside latticed with lights that rearranged themselves like living circuitry. Her heart ached to understand it. Part of her wanted to laugh—of course she’d crossed half a galaxy only to find the most advanced machinery in existence and not a single tool in her pocket.

A gust of wind stirred the grass at the cliff’s edge. Homesickness punched through her chest: not for an exact street or building, just for sidewalks, neon reflections in puddles, the warm buzz of voices carried on traffic noise. Normal things. Earth things. A world that still existed—somewhere, impossibly far behind her—but no longer within reach.

She rubbed the heel of her hand against her sternum, steadying her breathing. Chief glanced back; his gold visor caught daylight and threw it in fractured sparks. He waited until her steps matched his again before pressing forward.

They wound down a sloping ramp toward another entrance carved into the cliff face: tall, flawless, rimmed with glowing script. Luminous glyphs whispered across the doorframe, as though debating whether to let them pass.

(Y/N) swallowed. She was most likely light-years from every reference point she’d ever trusted, walking into halls no human had mapped. Yet the path kept opening, and Chief kept moving, and she—somehow—kept following. Hoping she could go back to Earth. They knew about it, so maybe it was possible?

One step at a time, she told herself as the massive doorway parted with a deep metallic sigh, spilling cool blue light across the stone

The corridor sloped steadily, each level dropping them a little farther beneath the mountain. No sudden lifts, no shimmering portals—just a long march down pristine ramps of pale alloy. The walls glowed with thin seams of light that pulsed in a lazy heartbeat, guiding the way deeper into Requiem’s silent gut.

(Y/N) stayed close to Chief yet still far enough back to stare at everything. Where cracked stone met seamless metal, she traced faint scorch patterns as though someone had once tried—and failed—to cut this place open. Half-buried conduits pulsed behind translucent panels; every so often, a thread of energy leapt from one vein to another, throwing sparks of blue across the floor.

“Hard to believe this is all older than humanity,” she murmured.

“It predates most recorded Forerunner history,” Cortana replied, voice projected from the slip-space of (Y/N)’s earpiece.“Even their own archives call this period ‘pre-dominion.’”

“Translation: antique.” (Y/N) smiled. “My specialty.”

Chief’s boots thudded on the ramp, otherwise silent. (Y/N) shot a glance at his broad back, then lowered her voice into a mock whisper. “Does he ever say more than seven words in a day, or is that classified?”

Cortana’s voice said, which sounded suspiciously like amusement. “You get used to the economy of syllables.”

Ahead, a small alcove opened on the left, housing a waist-high console the color of polished bone. Glyphs drifted lazily across its face like embers floating on water. Chief passed it without slowing, but (Y/N)’s feet stopped on their own.

Curiosity won before common sense could throw a flag. She reached out, brushed the back of her fingers over the smooth surface.

Light flared. Symbols realigned into crisp lines of text no human alphabet had ever taught her. She yelped and jerked back. “Whoa—sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The console dimmed again, settling into a quiet pulse that almost felt amused. Nothing else stirred.

Chief paused, half turning. “Status?”

“Fine,” she said, cheeks hot. “Console’s friendly. Or merciful. One of those.”

Cortana’s avatar flickered up beside the panel, arms folded. “Whatever you did, you pinged a diagnostics sub-routine. No harm done.” She smiled—just a hint. “Consider it a handshake.”

“Great. I nearly shook hands with a supercomputer the size of a continent.” (Y/N) flexed her fingers, still tingling. “Back home I needed two weeks just to get a toaster to stop murdering bread.”

“You were an engineer,” Cortana ventured as they resumed walking.

“Amateur scavenger, borderline fire hazard—depends who you ask.” She smiled despite herself. “But yeah. I liked fixing things that had no business working.”

Chief led them onto a ascending ramp. The air cooled further; somewhere below, turbines—or lungs—hummed in steady rhythm.

“Part of me wants to take one of these panels apart,” (Y/N) admitted. “Other part remembers the plasma grenades and votes no.”

“Wise,” Cortana said. “Forerunner tech isn’t forgiving. Though you seem to have a… rapport.” Her tone held cautious curiosity rather than suspicion.

“Rapport with walls. My résumé keeps improving.”

Chief’s voice cut in quietly. “Stay focused. Unidentified hostiles still in the area.”

“Right. Serious mode.” (Y/N) mimed zipping her lips, shooting the gesture toward Cortana since Chief’s broad back was already turned to lead the way.

Surprisingly, the AI’s hologram matched the motion—two translucent fingers pinching an invisible zipper across her own glowing mouth. The playful mirrored action was so unexpected (Y/N) couldn’t help the soft grin that bloomed on her face before she hurried after Chief up the ramp, a little warmth flickering in her chest at the first spark of real companionship.

The giant door split apart with a groan, light shearing through the seams until each half slid into the walls. A causeway of white alloy extended beyond—straight, narrow, and impossibly long, suspended over a gulf so deep (Y/N) could see no bottom. Giant pillars—huge hexagonal shafts of metal and stone—rose and sank far below in slow, deliberate patterns, as if the planet itself were breathing through machinery.

At the bridge’s end, a lone console glowed—an altar of glass-smooth metal awaiting a key. Chief strode toward it, and (Y/N) hurried to keep up, clutching her palm against her side. Halfway across, the voice slid into her thoughts again—clearer now, cold as split granite: Reclaimer… fracture… unworthy. She winced, pressing fingers to her temple.

What the hell was that?

Chief reached the console and slotted Cortana’s data chip into the interface. Only then did her hologram flare to life, casting pale blue over the platform.

“According to the Cathedral,” Cortana began, scanning glyphs far above (Y/N)’s comprehension, “this Terminus is just one node of a larger transit grid that spans the entire planet.”

Chief’s visor never left the shifting projections. “What?”

“When I tried to access the outlet closest to Infinity’s transmissions, the system responded with this.”

An emblem spun into view—two arcs orbiting a single dot.

“What is it?” Chief asked.

Cortana’s tone turned almost breathless. “That’s the kicker. It’s the Forerunner symbol for Reclaimer.”

Humanity. The word fell through her like lead shot—heavy, irreversible.

“Humanity,” Chief confirmed. “That’s got to be Infinity. Can you get us to those coordinates?”

“Let me try to open a portal.”

“Whoa, portal?” (Y/N) blurted before she could stop herself. The last “portal” she’d experienced ripped her straight out of her apartment. “We’re skipping steps here, guys!”

Cortana didn’t answer. Light whipped around her, coalescing into a sphere—and then everything faltered. Her hologram stuttered, static rippling across her edges.

“I’m picking up unknown energy signatures,” she said, voice tight.

Chief’s grip shifted on his rifle. “Where?”

“This can’t be right.” Cortana’s figure dimmed but remained fixed in the console. “Set a waypoint out of the tower—”

She broke off as a violent tremor shook the bridge. Beneath them, the pillars surged upward like spears. From their mirrored faces unfolded shapes—metal giants that assembled themselves in glowing seams. From her point of view, they stood maybe even taller than Chief, plated in shifting segments, skull-like masks bathed in amber light; forearms unfolded into blades of crackling energy.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched. “Those are not Covenant.” Whatever they were, they moved with unnerving grace—their machine parts moving smoothly, even if they weren’t connecting with anything.

Chief leveled his rifle. But before he could shoot, Cortana screamed:

“How did—Quick! Into the portal. Chief, GO!” Cortana’s voice snapped from the console. The hologram vanished as her program jumped back to the chip that Chief pulled out of the console and into his armor.

A disc of incandescent white flared open in midair near the console, distorting the view beyond it. (Y/N)’s stomach lurched; every instinct screamed that doors should have hinges, not horizons.

Chief braced, grabbed her wrist. “Move.”

They sprinted. The knight-like machines shifted, tracking with smooth, predatory precision. Before they could even attack, they were already jumping at the portal...well more like Chief jumping and (Y/N) being dragged along in the air, legs kicking at nothing.

“Next vacation,” she gasped, adrenaline surging, “I pick the destination!”

Chief didn’t answer—twelve words was apparently his daily limit—but his grip tightened around her wrist, pulling her hard toward the roiling light.

They plunged through. White swallowed everything: the bridge, the pillars, the metal phantoms, the echoing hum of Requiem’s heart. For one dizzy instant (Y/N) felt weightless, lost between moments.

Then the world slammed back—new ground, new air and the nightmare they’d left behind dissolved, at least for now.

But the voice lingered, faint and amused, at the edge of her mind:

Flesh… bone…pathetic.

#john 117 #master chief #time travel #x reader #master chief x reader #cortana #halo 4 #slow burn #halo #halo series #halo 4 forward unto dawn #x female reader #self insert #halo spartan #master chief x female reader #master chief x fem! reader #romance #suspense #original plot

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suddalgi · 6 months ago

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Finding yourself in the mountain god's palace far from home, you explore in search of answers. ➶genre: fantasy au, slow burn, power dynamic, soft dom! dk, arranged marriage vibes, 18+! ➶ w.c: 2.5k ➶ chapter warnings: none

➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫

chapter two

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“If you go now, you’ll be burned to a crisp.”

Your father’s admonishments were already fading as you ran out the door of your house into the main road, a beaten strip of dirt that twisted down the hill toward your village. You weren’t following it today—your feet carried you weightlessly across the grass toward the fields where the men were working. You could hear their songs rising into the midsummer sky, baked by the sun and perfumed with the thousands of wildflowers that whipped at your legs as you ran.

Maintaining a fair complexion was the furthest thing from your mind. Even as you ran, a giggle was bubbling up inside of you—your mind raced with thoughts of running through the cut rows of hay, chasing the barn dogs and splashing through the narrow streams that wound over the fields. At this time of day, the men would be eating their lunches and singing and laughing together. You’d find a place to sit where the shade was cool, and steal a bit of bread and listen to them talk of the seasons changing and what weather the mountain god has sent and of the fruit groves beginning to ripen.

You jumped across a narrow stream bank, your toes digging into the soft cool mud. You were invisible, another skinny dirt-smeared child, a nuisance underfoot, unimportant. Nothing like your father, with his stiff shirts and his frown that never seemed to go away. And when the weather was cold, you’d have to stay indoors and act the same way. But when it was summer, you were free.

It was a long while before you stopped crying. When your tears ran out, you realized that you were cold. Freezing.

So you brushed yourself off and wiped your eyes, and began to wander. You could barely feel your feet in the dewy grass as you explored the wall, and all the paths, retracing every step you had taken when you first arrived. Nothing was changed. You suspected nothing had changed for a long, long time—except for the ivy that grew over everything, long and wild and untamed.

Somewhere the sun was shining, you just knew it. That place seemed so far away now.

Following the wall, you arrived at the door you had noticed before. It was a huge, thick door of wooden planks wrought together with iron in delicate, careful work. It was painted in the bright, vivid royal colors of blue and red like your temples back home, but the architecture felt foreign. No doubt humanmade, though whatever humans had built this place were likely long gone, honored guests in the halls of the gods for their service. That sounded like a nice fate.

You reached out with freezing fingers, testing the handle with a few careful pushes. It was unlocked, creaking gently from the pressure of your touch. Your heart leapt in your chest, whether from hope or fear you could hardly say.

The idea of leaving this beautiful, awful garden filled your next decision with confidence: you pushed at the door, letting it swing heavily on its hinges inward to reveal a passage laid before you. It was lit with countless touches, a warm living glow, rivaled by the blue wash that poured through tall windows covered in silk screens that bent the moonlight into rippling shapes on the floor. The high-ceilinged hallway led deeper into what looked like some sort of keep built with the same pale stone and subtle finery. Narrowing your eyes, you followed the hallway with your gaze until it turned a corner and disappeared. For a moment you wondered how deep it went, and if it ever ended at all.

You held the door open, stealing one last glance at the garden you had awoken in. The warmth of the palace beckoned you silently like a lover’s breath, warming your skin as you stood before its open, waiting mouth. Whether it was better to embrace it or to stay in this frozen garden, there was no way to tell.

But you were only human, after all. Your tired, shivering frame defeated the logic of your mind and carried you inside the palace, shutting the door behind you.

With the heavy wooden doors firmly closed, the silence that closed around you was changed. Instead of the whisper of wind and the rustling of trees, a profound quiet had settled among the gentle crackle of the torches. You walked forward, your gaze following the shifting light of the windows as they reached up toward the cavernous ceiling. Trapped inside the screens were even more painstaking brushstrokes—countless scenes and characters and words you couldn’t even begin to fully absorb, unrolling like a map before you. Though you did not understand them, you knew they told a story older than the bones of the mountain you stood on.

The mountain. Your thoughts wandered with every step, growing more and more tangible as your panic subsided. Though you had never left your valley and traveled the mountains, the stories you had heard were endless. Miles of trees taller than the shaman’s greatest temples, their thick canopies and strangled branches providing shadowed hiding places for all manner of creatures. Clever, illusory dokkaebi, beautiful gumiho and dragons as long as the rivers that ran though your valley. The gods lived among the clouds because humans could not tread there—it was the danger of the mountains that became their sanctuaries, their temples, their altars. The patron god of your valley was no different, it seemed.

You thought of all the saints that had journeyed to visit the gods, holy pilgrimages and acts of human hubris alike. What made them favorable in the eyes of the gods? Where they pure by their own merit, or were they chosen just like you were? What distinguished sacrifice from honored guest?

You reached out with a hand, tracing the delicate pictures that covered the windows, feeling the texture of their rich history under your fingertips. Someone had made this, whether it was a human or some godly craftsman. They had always been here, even as you had lived every day blissfully, miles below. Maybe they had been waiting for you. Maybe, if you looked hard enough, you would find your own image wrought in silk among them.

Was it right that you were exploring like this? The god had given you no directions, no quarters of your own. Maybe the garden was meant to be your prison—but then, why would the door be left open, as if to invite you inside?

Before you could finish the thought, the hallway suddenly ended. It opened up into a wide room with a ceiling that climbed cavernously above your head. The small torches had become great copper and iron sconces, their flames leaping high and hot around you. Pillars of regal red, blue and green rose around you. Every wall was draped in silk paintings of unmatchable beauty and detail, mountains and fields and distant lands in countless strokes of paint. You stopped at the threshold, your heart pounding at the size of it, following each carefully laid stone with your eyes until they settled on an image set into the floor at the center of the great room.

It was wrought in stone, jade and lacquer, a glittering compilation of what must have taken years of tiny fragments and deliberate precision. Like the rest of this mysterious place, a significant story was clearly illustrated, another you did not know. You approached, kneeling to inspect it thoroughly, your pulse roaring in your chest.

Thirteen figures in a ring, each emanating holy light outward till the sunbeams of glass and stone reached the walls in every direction. Some of their faces were visible, simply illustrated but nevertheless breathtakingly beautiful. Below each one, a name had been written in ancient tongue. They were all different, each adorned in their own flowing hanbok and bearing items that you could recognize—a scale, three birds, a jug of water, a human skull…

They were all gods. Patrons of their own domains, but connected in this ring together, nonetheless.

You inspected each one with awe, until one captured all your attention. One whose face was not depicted—instead it was covered in a veil of white, pinned in place by a long arrow pierced through his chest. At his feet was a lantern, illuminating his pale hanbok even in mosaic form. It was impossible not to recognize him.

Your mountain god, and captor. The name below his feet was written in the way of the gods, but you could read it. Seokmin. Patron god of love.

You had heard his name before. A whispered name of reverence toward your valley’s provider and protector. The priestesses had described him as an affectionate god, a god of plenty and vitality… and the desires of men, fleshly love, lust. Seokmin was the name they prayed to when they offered sacrifices to him. Sacrifices like you.

But even still… what a simple name. Beautiful, even. You sat on the floor in that strange place, tears still crackling on your cheeks, and you tried to fit that name to whoever had spoken to you in the garden. The soft, musical voice, the subtle lisp, like he was any other man. You tried to imagine the other gods calling to him by that name, like he was a friend, or a brother, a name called in affection instead of fear and reverence.

Your thumb traced the smooth, prismatic lacquer that made up the picture’s veil. Being burdened with a thing such a love, it was little wonder that he covered his face. Was it beauty or monstrosity that he hid? If you were meant to be here forever, which would be worse?

Cry if you must, he had said. You’ll have no use for your tears here any longer.

It did not matter if this god was beautiful, or monstrous, or both. If he cared for you, it was the love a farmer would show an injured calf—whether he nursed you or drove a axe through your neck was entirely at the whim of what was most convenient. And what were humans to gods, anyway? Cattle? Vermin?

You had returned to taking in the picture laid before you when the silence was broken by a distant voice. It drifted into the chamber, quietly at first, buzzing at your ears like the tickle of breath. Singing.

When the sound first reached your ears, you weren’t sure it was a voice at all. It hummed ambiently like the echo of a bell ringing, one note resounding weightlessly from wall to stone wall forever into silence. Then you heard the following notes, as quiet as an exhale and colored delicately in the timbre of a tender, male voice.

If there were words, you didn’t catch them, as much as you found yourself straining to listen. Each phrase of music ended in a soft vibrato, a hauntingly perfect run of notes, no breath misplaced. The cavernous palace around you seemed to still in response to the distant lullaby, as if the stones themselves were settling into slumber. It left a haze of warmth over your mind, your lungs loosening in a deep, easy breath as the music poured over your senses.

For the first time since you arrived, you felt your body relax. Something like joy was blooming in your chest, though you didn’t understand it. Even as you wiped the remains of your tears from your face, you felt a renewed urge to cry.

You thought again of the sun-soaked grain fields and fragrant meadows you used to run through as a child, from a valley you would never see again. You thought of the taste of fresh summer fruit warm from the vine, and the farm dogs that followed at your heels, and the freedom of being far from your village in the hidden oases beyond the valley that only you knew. If those memories were a song, you thought it would sound just like this.

Warm tears dripped down to your chin, and you held your cheeks gently in your own palms. As each phrase echoed to silence before the next, you found yourself hoping desperately that each note was not the last.

After a moment you stood, curiosity overcoming your stunned senses. Though the voice was distant, you could follow the echo of it down one of the corridors that lead from this central place. It was impossible to tell just how large this palace was, but there were no doors locked to you, and he had given no instruction not to explore.

Following the music led you through a side passage, the floorboards soft under your bare feet as you passed through a moonlit courtyard with a glittering pond. You walked for a while, unsure of the reason why, as if your legs moved on their own accord.

Your heart thudded a warning in your chest, a human instinct that was completely eclipsed by the sound of the music now growing louder in your ears as you ventured deeper into the palace. Every note was sweeter and warmer than the last, as strange and quiet as a secret that only you and the walls of this place knew. Your path took you through the courtyard, lush grass cushioning your every step as you wove deeper into the beautiful, ornate labyrinth before you.

I just want to hear it, you told yourself. He won’t have to know where I am.

Your steps were light and silent as you finally turned a corner and reached a wide, closed door. Testing the handle, you found it was also unlocked—but several other things caught your attention before you even opened the door.

You noticed the smell first. The fragrance of flowers and rich green growth—similar to the garden you had come from, now made even more inviting by the warmth of being indoors. It was thick and intoxicating in your nose, a welcome change from the rain-soaked stones and the chill of cold.

The knob was turning before you realized. As the door opened, you caught a glimpse of rows of glass windows covered in vibrant screens, and a chamber glittering with moonlight, and more flowers than you could count—and then the music stopped.

You shut the door with a silent gasp, your heart leaping all the way to your throat. You waited there, hoping against hope that the singing would continue… but silence fell heavy and profound over the entire palace. Even the trees stopped rustling outside. Your minds’ eye was still reeling at the glimpse of what was behind the door, all the green that seemed so much warmer than the garden outside. Like it was alive with a soul. Like it had seen you, too.

You contemplated running, but where would you run to? What would you be running from?

You had just drawn your hand away from the door when the sound of soft footfalls reached your ears—footsteps like the ones you heard in the garden, but quieter. And closer.

It was pointless to run. You know that he was everywhere, his grip closed entirely around you in this place. You found yourself running anyway, away from the ornate door, from that haunting voice, back through the passages that had led you here…

Your first act of disobedience. And with eternity stretching before you, you knew it would not be the last.

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pmamtraveller · 10 months ago

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INTERIOR VIEW OF A CATHEDRAL/c. 1850/ by GENARO PÉREZ VILLAAMIL

Pérez Villaamil applied an atmospheric perspective effectively in the painting with a light and dark cooperating ratio by which he created a three-dimensional effect of depth and atmosphere for the vast space of this cathedral.

The painting shows the great attention that Perez Villaamil pays to architectural details in his work. The large space, which forms the interior of this great cathedral with columns, arches, and other decorative elements, was recorded very well by the artist.

A great role in the composition is played by the light streaming through the multi-colored glass.Villaamil captures the dramatic effects of light filtering through colored glass, casting vibrant hues and creating patterns on the cathedral floor and walls.

This painting successfully depicts the enormousness of the interior of the cathedral by making use of small human figures, which were strategically placed to further magnify the great size of the area. The painting captures not just a physical space but also a sense of the spiritual and awe-inspiring qualities associated with Gothic cathedrals.

Not only does he paint the architectural details, but he also takes time to put in a representation of religious artifacts, altars, sculptures, and probably medieval tombs that display layers of history and cultural richness.

#genaro perez villaamil #romanticism #gothic cathedral #gothic art #gothic style

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novantinuum · 11 months ago

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Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 4.8K~ Summary: A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

Chapter 3 of 4! This time, my OC goes on a tour of Little Homeschool with Bismuth, and gleans a far clearer picture of the most pertinent events of recent Gem history.

Enjoy! <3

Same as the car ride into town, the warp stream sees fit to aggravate their motion sickness.

Jean doubles over with hands on wobbly, wobbly knees when they finally reach their destination, relishing in the familiar comfort of feet planted upon solid ground once more. (Because good grief, they were whirling about like a damn tumbleweed in there. Balancing themself all perfectly poised and upright like the Gems felt near impossible.)

“Hey, you good?” the purple one— Amethyst, they remind themself— says, reaching a solitary hand out as if to catch them should they stumble.

“Y-yeah,” they stutter, still breathing heavy. “Yeah… sorry, it’s just— hoo boy, that was a lot.”

“Steven took a while to get used to the warp streams as well,” Garnet comments, issuing a formal, solitary nod. “It’s only expected that an organic being would struggle to acclimate to a zero-G environment like that. You’ll learn to manage it. In time.”

Jean swallows hard, willing that awful nausea at the base of their esophagus to recede. With any luck she’s right. It’d be such an embarrassing shame if they couldn’t physically handle such a basic form of Gem transportation. They always knew the theory for how the warp pads worked— the inter-linked system of crystalline terminals providing near-instantaneous travel between distant locations— but it’s another thing entirely to actually experience it. The whole journey from the beach house to this other settlement took, what? Maybe five or so seconds? Goodness, such a swift means of transportation could entirely revolutionize life on Earth as humanity knows it. It really is too bad these warp pads only activate for Gems.

(And that… well… they disorient every last balance-keeping anatomical feature of the inner ear. They’re thankful for Garnet’s encouragement, they are— but as of this precise moment they can’t imagine how such a trip could get any better, motion sensitivity in mind.)

Then, fingertips tapping delicately against the crystal inlaid at their chest in pure subconscious habit as the post-warp jitters fade away, they cast their gaze upwards and out. Shift their posture upright once more. This place…

“I— I’m actually here,” they mutter to themself, drinking in the glorious sight of all the colorful architecture and the bounty of Gem students milling around the busy central square.

Little Homeworld, in the flesh.

They step off the warp pad and— eyes widened with childlike wonder— begin to map out the area in their head. Clustered beyond the gold-rimmed concrete platform wrapping around the warp are a number of small buildings, each one featuring a completely different architectural style. Some are cozy A-frames, some are suspended on stilts… some are fashioned from wood and stone, others from brick… there’s square windows, circular windows, half-moon windows, no windows—! One story, two story, many, many stories… name any exotic building feature, and this place probably has it represented somewhere. And it’s a very colorful town, too— Jean has never seen a neighborhood painted in such vivid, welcoming pastel shades.

They’re still drinking in the sheer exhilarating splendor of their new surroundings when a broad figure they don’t recognize rushes across the square towards their current group, the very image of a Gem on a mission.

She’s clad in overalls that look much like their own, sporting a friendly face and— most unusually, compared to the Gems they’ve seen so far— an inverted gemstone at her chest, one that spirals inwards towards her core instead of sticking out.

“Oh, thank goodness you lot are back!” she says, nudging one of her rainbow locs back behind her shoulder as she plants herself square in front of their three hosts. “I was beginning to wonder if I needed to start the seminar on your behalf.”

Pearl’s glance flits their way for the briefest of seconds, their fingertips threading together. “Apologies, we got a little caught up in… something important, shall we say.”

“Bismuth, this is Jean,” Garnet says, gesturing towards them. “They’re a prospective student and need a full tour of our campus and dormitory. Do you or Peridot have time to show them around?”

Her mouth screws up as she considers. “Well… pretty sure Peri’s busy with her horticulture class, so I guess I can do it. It sure beats all the busy work I had going on this morning. But wait, wait—” she interrupts her own train of thought then, her attention snapping right back to the other Gem— “hold up. You said prospective student? You mean this isn’t just a tour for the short-term exchange program?”

“Jean’s half-Gem,” Amethyst blurts out with clear excitement painting her tone. “Like Steven.”

Bismuth’s expression snaps from minor confusion to spellbound amazement almost faster than Jean is capable of processing. Her glance flits down, briefly hovering on the pale lavender-blue gemstone resting atop their sternum.

“Huh,” she muses out loud, balling her hand at her chin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t know that was possible.” Then, her focus pulling back up to meet their eyes: “But hey, we’ve plenty of time to talk shop about that later, right? It’s nice to meet you, Jean! We can begin that tour right now, if you’re ready. The rest of you guys, go on ahead. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sounds good,” they nod, tangling their own hands within the wide expanse of their pockets as they rock back and forth on their heels. “I, erm—” they wave an anticlimactic goodbye to the other Gems, who seem to be in a huge hurry to meet their previous engagement… golly, all of this is happening so fast— “can I just do one thing before we start, though?”

Bismuth hums an affirmative. “Whatever you need. We got all the time in the world.”

Inhaling deep through the slimmest slit of their lips, they pull their phone out of their pocket and sling a quick text to Dad, updating him on where they’re at. After all, warping straight to Little Homeworld itself was not in their plan for today… but oh, well. Life is full of surprises sometimes.

(A fact of existence that’s both a blessing and a curse.)

But with that little task out of the way, Jean follows their guide down the wide central path connecting to the main square, eagerly soaking up whatever knowledge she can spare. Bismuth, as it turns out, is the Gem who designed this whole campus. Thus for all the questions they might have, she’s got a pretty solid answer for most. Or so she claims.

From what they’ve seen of her so far, they’re apt to believe this, though.

“So… Little Homeworld,” they begin with a fair measure of timidity, skipping a little to catch up with this Gem’s large and energetic stride. “This place was only built in the last few years, yeah?”

She grins. “Yep! We broke ground in mid 2015, shortly after the start of Era 3.”

Their brow creases. “Era 3…?”

“Gem society’s current era,” she says in explanation, “which began when the Crystal Gems finally made peace with big Homeworld. You’ve… heard of Homeworld, right?”

“I mean… I always figured there was one, but that’s kinda it. I—” they trail off for a moment, their chest deflating under the humiliating weight of everything they’re unaware of. “To be completely honest, I’ve never even met any Gems until today. So there’s gonna be a lot I don’t know. Sorry…”

Bismuth merely waves their apology off. “Psssh, don’t worry about it. I can explain some of the basics to you after the tour. Plus, if you’re looking to enroll, you’ve plenty of time to learn all this stuff anyways. Now follow me, our first stop is just over here…”

The first stop she speaks of is the campus gymnasium. Jean’s interest is immediately piqued as they notice a few Gems sword fighting in one of the gym’s many courts. Bismuth— ever the keen eye— gives a fond laugh at their sharp swerve of interest, and dives straight into the meat of her tour spiel, beginning with…

Campus tour factoid number one: not only is this space utilized for structured classes (mostly swordplay and wrestling, which the quartzes are huge fans of), but students can even reserve courts for individual use. It’s not a super large gymnasium, but there’s plenty of space for sports outside, too. Apparently baseball (of all things) is a favorite pastime amongst Little Homeschool students.

Campus tour factoid number two: right next door to the gymnasium there’s a building with a bright, airy common area. Here, there’s tons of tables and chairs set up for students to play games and connect, a communal kitchen (mostly for the benefit of their human visitors, but also for Gems who wish to experiment with eating), and a mini library of human entertainment.

Campus tour factoid number three: when weather is permitting many instructors like hosting their classes outside, but they have plenty of physical classroom space too, over in the cluster of buildings nestled under the trees right across the main path. Some of the other amenities Little Homeschool boasts are a full art studio, an all-seasons greenhouse kitted out with the latest and greatest in hydroponics technology, and a records room with access ports to a whole wealth of Homeworld data banks for research and learning purposes.

The final stop on Bismuth’s tour is the dormitory, which is housed within the central tower.

“Now, many of the Gems who attend our school are at a delicate transitory stage in their lives,” she says, leading Jean through the front entrance of the dorm. “Plenty of them have never been apart from those of their own cut for more than a second, so the concept of ‘personal belongings’ and having a space that’s all their own is… well, for lack of a better term, alien.”

They nod as they follow Bismuth through the building’s lobby, each and every step bringing a new curiosity to gawk in awe at. Damn, this place is insane! The whole core of this tower is open space, with a set of transparent elevator-like pads stationed at the middle to ferry folks up and down from each level. There’s tons of greenery and light brightening up this expanse, and a number of railed walkways arcing across this central atrium from different angles every few floors. These walkways even have flowering vines hanging from the undersides, giving this building a strikingly organic vibe despite its concrete heavy architecture style. It all feels very… oh, what’s the style Dad always said he likes the aesthetic of, again—? Very, uh… very solar punk. Yes, that’s it. A sort of combination of solar punk and neo-futurism, what with all the bold angles and sweeping curves represented here.

A few Gems wave at Bismuth as the two of them pass by. She beckons them along towards the lift system.

“Thus, when building this school,” their tour guide continues, “we settled on dorm style accommodations, hoping that it could provide a nice balance between solo and community living for our students.”

“How many Gems are housed here, out of curiosity?” Jean asks, stepping up on the platform with her.

Bismuth taps her fingers against the diamond shaped screen inlaid in the half-wall that separates the lifts— probably imputing a floor— and the crystalline platform jolts to life. “Currently? About a hundred seventy or so,” she responds, turning back to face them. “And our roster rotates all the time. But the school itself serves plenty more— there’s a lot of Gems who warp in each day for their classes, and others who only choose to attend one or two sessions.”

They hum in acknowledgement, falling quiet to enjoy the smooth ride up to one of the upper levels.

The lift stops at floor seven, where their gracious host leads them towards what she describes as one of the few empty dorm rooms. (Or they think these are supposed to be the dorm rooms? These doorways don’t have any handles to speak of, which is a little confusing.) In any case, Jean’s brow arches in ample curiosity as they watch Bismuth press her palm flush against the adjacent panel much like one would use a hotel keycard. A dull chime rings out, and the entire surface of the door splits in two. They flinch a step backwards, wholly mystified. Wait, what?? But how did— there was no seam before, right? The doorway had no visible seam. They swear to the edge of the Earth it didn’t. So how could it just—?

Bismuth gives a fond chuckle, merely shuffling aside to invite them in to the room. “Trippy, right? This whole building’s a bit of an architectural labyrinth— held together with a whoooole lotta Gem tech, hah! So when you walk through that frame, you’re actually entering into something of a pocket dimension. It’s the only way we could scale up our operations while maintaining a slim footprint. The sunlight’s real, though,” she says, gesturing towards the wide window at the far end of the living unit.

Eager eyed, Jean takes a quick inventory of the space.

The room itself is fairly sparse, a blank canvas to be furnished and decorated however a Gem would prefer. But there’s some shelves built into the right hand wall at the far corner for storage of personal items, and a humble table and chair nestled by the window. Meanwhile, on the left side of the wall there’s a strange little person-sized inlet— a ‘cubby,’ of sorts— with another one of those touch screen panels next to it. They hum with intrigue, striding towards this mysterious furnishing feature.

“What’s this for?” they ask, the panel’s interface bursting to life under even the most feathery brush of their fingertips.

“Oh, that—?” she smiles. “It’s a newer contraption, actually… meant to mimic the unique conditions of any Gem’s exit hole.”

Jean purses their lips, absolutely nothing about the conclusion of that last sentence making sense.

Their what hole?? Oh gosh, it’s gonna take eons to figure out what even half of this stuff means, isn’t it?

Bismuth begins to speak further on the topic, delving into something more nuanced about these so-called ‘exit holes…’ something about rest, something about incubation, a kindergarten or whatever. Ugh. They don’t know. They don’t know. And even more frustratingly, for whatever goddamn reason it suddenly feels impossible to maintain focus on her words at all, their mind instead seeing fit to fixate on the daunting ravine that is their sheer lack of an even baseline understanding of Gem physiology, culture, and history. Here they are, trying to enroll in an all-Gem school, and they barely even comprehend the basic lingo. Oh god, she thinks they’re an idiot, doesn’t she?

They don’t even realize they’re clutching their arms around their midsection in the sheer strife of it all until the sound of their own name cuts through all the murk and mire that’s taken their body hostage.

“Jean… hey, Jean? You doin’ okay, there? D’ya want me to slow down?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just—”

Whatever lame, emotionally downplaying words they were about to utter die like snuffed cinders upon their tongue as they hazard a sheepish glance at the Gem and note the genuine concern weaving across her features. Jean sighs, dropping their arms.

“I think I need to go outside,” they admit, averting their gaze. “Everything’s just… a little overwhelming right now.”

“Hey, that’s all right,” she says, tone soft with understanding. “The rest of the tour can always wait. In fact… how ‘bout I take you back to my forge, and we can talk shop there, instead? It’s open air, and if you’re not up for talking, I can just show ya’ how I prepare billets for a while. At least until the others come back ‘round. That sound more your speed?”

“Yeah,” they nod, the barest hints of a smile returning to their lips. “Yeah, I think I can handle that.”

The walk back to Bismuth’s forge is pretty uneventful. There’s a few Gem students who wave a friendly hello to their guide as she leads them down the path, but beyond that their journey is cast in comfortable silence. And honestly, thank goodness for that. Jean is exceedingly glad to find another soul in this place who understands the importance of like… why a person might desire chatter-less companionship. Sometimes they just flat out don’t feel up to talking, y’hear?

Bismuth only breaks their quietude when the two of them step through the arched entry into her workshop.

“Here, you can sit, if you’d like,” she says, gesturing towards a squat wooden stool nestled at the corner of the space. There’s a table there as well, filled with a number of specialized metallic hand tools Jean can’t even begin to guess the names or uses of. Their Aunt Dee might, though. As a film costumer, metal work seems like something she would’ve at very least dabbled in before.

They nod in gratitude, eagerly situating themself on the offered seat and allowing their muscles to relax. Ahhh… it feels nice to rest after such a long walk.

Their gracious host rounds the room to grab a dense bar of metal from the healthy stash she’s got stacked on the shelves. As she crosses back around, her eyes lock on them immediately. Ever so subtle, her brows lift upon her broad forehead as she regards them once more, signaling her active sympathy.

“You ‘doin any better?”

They nod, small and meek. “Yeah, I think so. Sorry, about— well, sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be apologetic for, don’t you worry,” she says, laying the metal bar down on the working surface of her anvil. Then, with a faint laugh: “‘Sides, if you think you’re feelin’ out of your element, you should’ve seen my last tour group.”

“What would a Gem have to feel out of place about…?” Jean asks, more of an under-their-breath mutter than anything else.

Of course, Bismuth seems to glean the deeper meaning behind their hazy afterthought of a query anyways. “Oh, you’d be surprised. A lot of our students here have, well… a bit of a complicated past. A large number of them fought in the war for Earth, back when the Gem Homeworld was still trying to colonize it. And a good number of those spent a few thousand years trapped in a state of mental damage we Gems call ‘corruption.’”

Their features crinkle inwards as they ponder these facts. Hmm. ‘Corruption.’ Yet another term they’ve never seen show up in any of their research efforts. It seems the scant amount of information they’ve amassed about Gems up until now really was barely scraping the barrel. Was this their fault? Did they not dig deep enough? Are these pieces of their own history they could’ve learned years ago if only they applied themselves to their search harder? But in a true blessing of a breakthrough for an anxious wreck who’s starting to feel too ashamed to bother anyone with any more of their ignorant questions, their blank, deer-in-the-headlights gaze is obvious enough that their host clues in on the confusion swirling through their mind immediately.

“Ah, hmm. I guess you prolly don’t know what corruption is either, huh?” she muses, pressing a closed fist to the edge of her lips.

Jean flashes an apologetic smile. “‘Fraid not.”

She nods, and temporarily abandons her starting metal to the anvil so she can grab a second stool from the other side of the forge and sit herself down across from them.

“In that case,” she jabs a solitary finger in the air, “lemme just start from the beginning and give you the ol’ Earth rebellion primer…”

So, here’s what they glean from her narrative:

The Gem Homeworld was apparently once ruled by four Diamonds. The youngest of the quartet, Pink, had Earth given to her as her first colony. The colonization efforts went as planned for a good few hundred years… and then, a lone rose quartz and a pearl (the Pearl, the one they met just an hour or so ago, which makes a damn lot of sense from what little they’re aware of her), began seeding whispers of rebellion. It started small… isolated attacks on key settlements and construction sites, strategic disruptions of supply shipments and warp pad installations, that sort of thing. At first, the two of them only ever intended to scare the others off this planet— not wanting its ecosystem to be permanently destroyed via the lethal impacts of Gem production on the Earth’s soil chemistry. But over time, the rebellion blossomed to champion a cause far broader than what was originally intended:

Freedom for all Gems, no matter how disparate to Homeworld’s stringent ideals.

This was when Bismuth joined the fray, and where much of her recounting of this history is based on eye-witness experience.

Jean takes a moment to inquire a bit deeper about the destructive impact of Kindergarting before her story moves on.

“Essentially, Gemkind used to set up camp on a new planet, construct their colony, siphon every last scrap of life out of its crust until they’ve incubated all the Gems they possibly can, and then move right along to the next one,” Bismuth says, shaking her head with a tinge of shame coating her features. “An endless, soulless cycle, with countless dissatisfied Gems trapped at its center. That’s why the mere existence of Rose Quartz was such a shockwave at the time— ‘coz she was a Gem who outright defied her superiors’ demands at every opportunity. Rose, she—” her expression grows somewhat wistful with melancholy remembrance— “she taught me that my unique existence was precious, that I didn’t need to bend to Homeworld’s demands. That I could choose my own path in life. My own friends. My own loves… Stars, Rose Quartz was everything to me back then.”

Jean’s nose crinkles as they ask the obvious next question. “But…?”

Bismuth sighs as she slumps forward on her stool, age-old exhaustion evident within her tone. “But war is complicated. And so are Gems. I made a few choices I now regret, and got bubbled over it. Missed a few thousand years ‘coz of that. And by the time I was let out, the war was long over. The Crystal Gems won, but… only by a technicality.”

“Bubbled?” they inquire, tilting their head.

“Hah,” she laughs, low and half-hearted. “Means my form was dissipated in combat, and my gem was stashed in a bubble. It’s a long story. Don’t really wanna hash through the details of it now, if that’s okay.”

Jean nods, more than emphasizing with that sort of sentiment. There’s tons of awkward stuff in their past they’re not super interested in discussing with others, either. They gesture for her to continue.

Bismuth moves on to explain how— once she was freed from her stasis and allowed to reform— she discovered that all the Gems left behind on this planet were caught in a massive retaliatory attack by the Diamonds.

“They believed Rose Quartz shattered one of their own,” she shrugs. “Pink Diamond— the appointed leader of this colony— was lost during the war. So the three who remained traveled to Earth and tried to wipe every last Gem off its surface… their own soldiers included. They assumed they destroyed all of them.“

“But they were corrupted instead,” Jean completes, remembering that specific word Bismuth had used earlier. “Which means—?”

“—that their minds were thrown into a jumbled, primal state. Unable to retain a humanoid form, or even communicate in words. To use your human lingo, it’s as if the sheer brutality of the Diamonds’ damage reduced them into monsters.”

“Hmm. So how were they healed?”

“Ah, that was all Steven’s doing. I’m assuming you already know about Steven—?”

They nod. “I’ve seen his adverts,” they put it lightly.

That’s— of course— only the tip of the iceberg. They choose not to mention the ridiculous sum of time they’ve spent combing the internet for every last scrap of information they could feasibly grasp on Beach City, Steven, and the other Gems. It’s not clear yet what this particular Gem would think about such an obsessive level of study… whether she’d admire the initiative or resent them for sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Alright. Now, here’s where things get a bit topsy-turvy,” Bismuth says, a bit of a chuckle coloring her tone. “So, Steven’s the half-human son of Rose Quartz, right?”

Yep, that tracks. None of Jean’s sources ever stated this so bluntly, but it meshes with the vague timeline of events they’ve pieced together… what with Rose’s disappearance and Steven’s arrival on the scene years later.

“Well, back when he was a kid, this whole bombshell secret ‘bout his mother comes out. I wasn’t there for the reveal,” she shrugs, gesturing wide with her palms spread open, “and only learned about it secondhand, but— basically, all along, Pink Diamond and Rose Quartz were the same person.”

Their brows scrunch inwards. “Wait, what?”

“Wild, right?” she says with noted amusement. “All those years of chaos and turmoil… when the whole time, Rose was simply waging a false war against herself. I’m sure you’ll learn plenty more about this era of history in time, but the important part is that this makes Steven one of the Diamonds. Which gave him the unique authority to negotiate with them for not only the complete liberation of Earth, but also the healing of all the corrupted Gems. Such a cure took the powers of all four of them to achieve. So, hah—” Bismuth cracks a half-hearted, wistful smile— “as much as it really cut my facets down a size at the time… in the end… making peace with Homeworld was literally the only option.”

Jean continues to muse on the broader implications of all this newly learned history as the Gem moves on to describe how Little Homeworld came to be. (Which— they’re ashamed to admit— they’re only halfway paying attention to.) So, Steven’s like… what… royalty, then? Some sort of Gem prince? It certainly would explain the sheer level of political sway he had in setting up this school, and the almost reverent way people here have spoken of him so far. Still, it’s not what they expected. Online documentation on Gem matters is still very sparse, yes, but nothing they’ve read thus far even remotely mentioned the existence of ‘Diamonds,’ let alone Steven’s innate connection to them. They can’t help but wonder if there’s any specific reason why.

Their thoughts migrating to related horizons, they inquire more about the rest of the Diamonds… are they still in some form of power today, they ask?

Bismuth shakes her head no. “Not entirely. It’s, ah… it’s complicated. We’ve elected leaders to aid in governing each of Homeworld’s planets, but… it’d be foolish to claim that the Diamonds don’t still hold a certain sway over a vast percentage of Gemkind. Our society’s entering a vital transitional state right now, shall we say.”

“Makes sense,” Jean nods.

Especially with how long-lived Gems are, though they elect not to say as much out loud. They have no idea if the topic of age is as sensitive for Gems as it can oft be for humans.

“But despite any lingering influence they may hold, they’re not ‘in charge,’ so to speak,” she continues, throwing up air quotes as emphasis. “Not as they once were. Everything’s different now.” Bismuth shifts back upon her stool as she pauses in her lesson, allowing the rejuvenating relief of those three little words to sink in for the both of them. A serene, content smile rises upon her lips. “After a lifetime of struggle, Gems are finally free to be their own selves in this era. We can finally rest.”

Their host meditates within the cusp of this welcoming truth for a few moments, staring off towards the open air doorway at their right to watch a fair handful of residents pass between activities. She closes her eyes, her features aligning into an almost unparalleled show of utter tranquility. Then, bobbing her head a little as she wrestles through the last few items on her laundry list of mental troubles, she clasps her hands upon her knees and pushes herself wholly upright once more.

“Anyways, that’s probably enough history for today, yeah? Hah, wouldn’t want to spook ya’ away with all the heavy stuff before you’ve even enrolled.”

“No, please, don’t worry ‘bout it,” they say with a slight laugh, shaking their head. “I thought it was pretty interesting, really.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it!” she chimes, pacing back across the forge to her anvil. “We can talk shop in more detail when Pearl’s back, but— should you be interested in becoming a student long-term— my plan is to retrofit one of those dorm rooms you saw with a kitchenette and a bathroom, as well as shuffling around some of the furnishings to make space for a bed. Does that sound suitable for your needs?”

“More than suitable,” Jean chimes, folding their hands in their lap.

“Good, good…”

Bismuth shines her a bright, enthusiastic grin, and picks up that dense hunk of metal she fetched minutes earlier.

“So… with all that said and done—” in a flash of brilliant light, she morphs her hand into a broad mallet— “d’ya think you’re still up for a lil’ demonstration?”

#su #su future #(as in... it's Post that)#bismuth #garnet #amethyst #pearl #jean maverick #ocs #su fanfic #su oc #echoes of chalcedony #my writing stuff

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cecilxa · 2 years ago

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aesthetics, complexity and deep affection

summary: kaveh is an architect in love

contents: fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, kaveh is so hopelessly in love, character driven

cw: nothing i can think of, tell me if you find any!

recommend listening to: let you break my heart again by laufey + philharmonia orchestra

a/n: happy belated birthday kaveh 🎉🎉, more at the end

To find something beautiful is entirely subjective. One person may argue that the depths of the sea contain all the beauty of the world, whereas another would argue the stars. On certain days when the moon hangs low or when the light streaming through the stained windows at Puspa Café hits his wine at an angle, Kaveh likes to ponder this topic. Flowers blooming, the desert sand glimmering, eyes smiling. Beautiful things.

None quite as beautiful as you.

Call him superficial; call him an aesthete; call him yours. If Kaveh is the light of Kshahrewar, then you can be the butterfly to his sunlight, so he can hold you in his hands and bask in your attention. He wonders what colour your wings would be, how they would unfold, and how he would stare at them in awe, mesmerised. But you don’t need wings to lure him in, nor do you need anything more. Because if he is the light of Kshahrewar, then you are his muse, his own solace in a world of sorrow.

In architecture, there are several components that make up even a miniature wooden box, let alone a palace made out of brick and concrete. But no matter how complicated, no matter how long the hours spent, no matter how frustrating, a palace was created as a palace, and that will never change. On the other hand, what constitutes a ‘home’? Can you have multiple? Is it something you can create and then mould, or is it something that evolves and transforms itself? Grandiose staircases and lofty ceilings seemingly mean nothing if you can’t hear echoing laughs and joyous gasps.

Kaveh thinks that he may have an answer. A ‘home’ is people. Good people, who care for each other. Like when he was younger, his parents–however long gone they may be–cared for him with all the tenderness of a coddling touch. He found a home in them.

Now, this ‘home’ is you.

As idealistic as Kaveh is, there are no lofty assurances he swears that float just out of reach. Because what he whispers quietly in your ear late at night, he vows to keep. On his life, which seems that much brighter with you.

“Whatever you wish for, I’ll give.”

He kisses your shoulder. You laugh softly. You can’t count the many times he’s lured you into a slumber through the aid of sweet nothings and comforting touches. But as you turn around in his arms, the laugh manages to get caught in your throat. Kaveh isn't laughing back. There is adoration in his eyes, yes, and there is devotion in his gaze, yes, but there is something else–something special–that makes you wonder whether you’ve underestimated the depth of his feelings. The bed makes a slight creak as his face comes closer.

“You have no idea how much I’m in love with you.”

He’s telling the truth. The beginning of a solid house starts with a solid foundation, which is then built upon. Kaveh is the foundation to your house, and he would gladly let you grow and flourish from his dedication, if only you’d let him. From your house stems a home that contains all that he cherishes, from the gleam in your eyes to the smile that he’d frame with the slight tilt of your chin. An architect should be able to indulge in all that they find breathtaking, which, for Kaveh, he has the privilege of being able to admire every day. And yet, every single day, he manages to fall for you again and again.

Kaveh promises that one day he will be able to grant all that you wish for, no matter how impossible it may be. You deserve more than the constraints of what constitutes ‘possibility’, and then will he be able to see your smile, and see his reflection in your eyes, and not notice anything else but the happiness enveloping both your bodies.

But for now, he’ll have to make do with unbreakable whispers and the feelings in his heart that beat in time with the flap of a butterfly’s wings.

He finally grins at you, never faltering in his gaze.

“I want you to know how much I truly do adore you.”

a/n: I’M BACK BABYYYYYYY, I MISSED WRITING!111!1!1! my posting schedule will now be much more regular :) as always, likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🩷🩷

#kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh fluff #kaveh drabbles #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabble #FIRST KAVEH POST??#i love him #i think he would be the one I would get along with the most irl

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orqheuss · 2 years ago

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For whatever we lose (like a you, or a me)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

Pre!Parenthesis Universe

Summary:

“Oh for the love of—” Sebastian cut himself off, quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing it at your chest. Images danced behind his eyes; Solomon destroying the plant that could have cured Anne; The blurry image of the goblin that had cursed his sister running from the house, cackling in villainous mirth; finding his parents bodies in the cellar, thick plumes of colored toxic smoke spewing from their cauldron. His vision faded to a striking black. White hot pokers stabbed into his temples, and he cast his wand at you in a blind rage. “Crucio!” *** The Scriptorium called your name, and who were you to ignore its song? At least, that's what you told yourself as Sebastian pushed you and Ominis deeper and deeper into the mausoleum.

Word count: 9k

Tags: arguing, violence, cruciatus curse, dark!sebastian (kind of), sexual humor

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

Not a sound could be heard in the moonlit, desolate hallways of Hogwarts. The distant star casted a haunting glow over the courtyard and shone through the grand windows of the Great Hall. Figures long lost to time danced through the paintings lining the hazelwood walls, waltzing to an imaginary concerto. The ghosts floating about chatted quietly about their history, telling tales of cadences forever forgotten in old textbooks. Their whispers shivered the leaves in the trees on the campus grounds, leaving them humming at the fall winds cascading from the sky and turning their once vibrant green spires into a burnt orange. Lanterns lined the Grand Staircase at the heart of the castle, a paragon of regality and the wisdom of the great wizarding school. Baroque styled banisters basked in the glow, expelling person-shaped shadows on the enormous walls lining the mystical architecture. Down the stairs laid an ornate stone door, its architrave adorned with a cosmic silver snake. Two freshly lit braziers framed the entrance and swayed in the steely breeze of the dungeons, its smokey ash pirouetting in romantic couplets towards the ceiling.

A third was sparked to life just down the way. The line of light seemed to lure in anyone who were to walk the halls past curfew; beckoning them with the promise of mischief and pleasure. Standing before the final brazier, basking in its luminescence, were three young students. One leaned against the far wall of the corridor, arms crossed tightly against his chest with a sullen look adorning his features. His eyes seemed to catch the light and shimmer like frosted glass on a winter morning. Another stood in front of the boy, directly under the cold stone of the giant candelabra. He was beaming with elation, his eyes glittering with waywardness and intrigue. His brown irises seemed to reflect the fire back in challenge, almost daring it to blaze brighter than he did. Between the two was the final student. A slight frown quirked the corner of their mouth, glancing back and forth between their two friends in trepidation. They could feel each emotion emitting from their companions like a thick fog, coating the hallway and leaving the braziers the lone match shining through the storm. Each felt something different about their quest— had different motives for the scintillating adventure. They all heard the distinct call to the Scriptorium before them, and felt more than compelled to answer. With a great rumble, the stone wall sloughed away and opened up to a chasm leading downward. A spiral staircase slithered from below and attached to the ledge, hissing out a stream of steam in its wake.

The three friends stood in awe at the display, amazed at the grandiloquence of the long dead wizard who made this place. They were about to enter Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium, a feat very few could claim as their own.

Sebastian Sallow turned on the balls of his feet and beckoned his friends over, a giddy look twinkling in his eyes and stretching his smile. The prospect of finding a cure for the curse that plagued his sister heavily outweighed any unease he may have had at the daunting entryway. He nearly vibrated with excitement— the need for thrill buried itself deep in his bones. He could taste the tombs of secrets hidden in the enigma before him, feel the leather bound books worn with oil from the fingertips of his house founder. The forbidden magic thrummed in his veins and set his blood aflame like the brightest sunlight. Something unfamiliar flashed in his eyes, something dark.

Ominis Gaunt, the heir of Slytherin himself, flicked his wand from his large robe sleeve and sparked it to life. A red light pulsed from its tip, and the hallway came more into focus in his mind. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards the imposing archway, closer to his family history simmering below. He looked striking, noble even, with his even, strong steps. Only someone close enough to be in his own skin would notice the slight tremble in his hands, the sweat that beaded at his brow. Anyone else with his condition could hear the steady hammer of his heart against his rib cage, the fast but even beats swimming in his ears and resting behind his eyes. He thought of his dear aunt Noctua, the last of the Gaunt’s to enter the foreboding mausoleum— how she had disappeared soon after finding its entrance. A shiver ran up his spine and something akin to fear lodged itself in his throat.

You looked on at the two boys. You had no feelings for this moment, nothing to go off of but the words of your two comrades. You peaked down the chilling stairs into the never-ending darkness. It seemed to hiss in contempt at being awoken. This metaphorical pit of serpents had fangs, and each dripped with a deadly poison befitting the strongest men. The blackness crept up your arms and buried itself in your hair— it whispered sweet nothings into your ears, enticing the ancient magic flowing under your skin. You inhaled the titillating aroma of devillment and stored it deep in your lungs. Excitement and worry crashed against your soul and swirled like a hurricane in your stomach, sending ripples of anxiety through your very bones. You truly didn’t know how you felt at that very moment, but you knew, more than anything, that you wanted to protect your friends. Something inside, though, felt familiar. Something was calling out to your magic, and you felt inclined to answer.

You pushed the anxiety aside for now. The two boys, now standing next to you, both had things they needed to learn from the Scriptorium, and you were going to help them find it. The idea of adventure took over your senses at that moment and spread heat through your chest, glowing as bright at the braziers you had just lit.

Even Ominis, a very stoic and reserved boy to most, seemed to have a gleam about his face that shimmered in eagerness. Not many knew, but he most definitely had a taste for chaos— he had to with the company he kept. There was something so intriguing about the Scriptorium to him. Maybe it was something forged in his very being, him being a Gaunt after all. Either way, the young wizard turned his attention towards his companions in a silent confirmation that he was ready to go. You cleared your throat hesitantly, drawing the attention of Sebastian away from the dark hallway before you.

“Alright boys,” you gestured towards the entrance with your hand, “shall we?”

The two nodded in your direction. Sebastian turned to you with a cheeky grin decorating his features. “I haven’t seen a tunnel this big since your mum.”

Another thing about the Sallow boy: he very rarely took anything seriously.

At the unimpressed look you gave him, he held his hands up in a placating manner, chortling to himself, “Aw, come on. That was a good one—”

You reached your hand towards his face and promptly thumped him on the forehead with a flick. Sebastian dropped the troublesome smirk and quickly brought his palm up to rub at the affronted spot, hissing through his teeth in pain.

You looked at Ominis next to you, and as if sensing your disappointment he shook his head while looking up at the ceiling, muttering to himself, “Merlin, help me,” before beginning to walk down the daunting staircase.

You and Sebastian fell into step behind the young Gaunt, trusting his instincts and sentient wand better than your fleeting eyesight. The tunnel was unequivocally dark, even the lumos dancing in front of your face barely pierced the surface. Your shoes made a distinct squelch sound on the wet cement with each step deeper into the pit.

Down,

down,

down you went.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, descending into the fathomless unknown. Each sound echoed off the tightly packed walls, bouncing back and forth like a well crafted game of wizards chess. The seconds ticked by slowly, cascading around you like the steady stream of drips coming from above. The piping loomed imposingly above your heads and drizzled along the black-stone walls. You must be truly under the castle, you supposed. You felt tightly packed like a tin of sardines— three fish wiggling together towards the unknown fate of the stew pot. Ominis could smell your discomfort behind him, and quite honestly, he was inclined to agree. He couldn’t sense the end landing, if there even was one, in the infernal devilry that was the accursed sepulcher. The scent and taste of mildew and stale air coated his nasal cavity and larynx, making it impossible to determine anything else from the two orifices. He would gripe about his lack of sight in situations like this, at least normally, but he doubted that it would make much difference at the current moment. There was truly nothing around them.

Sebastian could taste the unease in the air from his two companions, and he detested the feeling greatly. It was of the utmost disrespect to the boy to turn down adventure; there was absolutely nothing in this world that he didn’t want to poke and prod, to know how it ticked. If there was one thing that his parents passed down to him before they died, it was that. He understood that it was a daunting task, and a very large ask of his dear friends, to take this journey with him, but for Merlin’s sake, it was Slytherin’s Scriptorium! He had only ever read about this monumental library, hiding deep in the caverns of the Hogwarts underbelly. How could he say no to this journey, this discovery? If it helped Anne along the way, what was the harm of it all?

Just as you were beginning to think you would never leave the Hadean staircase, it finally puttered off to a smooth path of river-stones and a dimly lit concourse. Ominis stood at the forefront of the group, his wand casting a small bale-fire and illuminating more of the imposing hallway. Sebastian chuckled lowly behind him. Wrapping his arm around the smaller boy's shoulders and leaning his head towards you, his eyes focusing deep into the darkness before him, he hummed.

“Hmph. Dark, ominous corridors. My favorite!” He cheesed at your bubbling laugh, snickering to himself at the obvious annoyance of the other boy.

Ominis bemoaned the statement, groaning and throwing his head back minutely. A hand raised to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “No comment.”

You turned towards your blond haired friend, placing your own hand on his shoulder and leaning in next to his ear, a dangerously coy simper tweaking up the corners of your mouth.

“I certainly love one of Ominis’ corridors.”

The wiry boy wiggled out from under your arms, making a sound of disgust at the comment as his cheeks turned a bright fuchsia. Sebastian desperately held in giggles behind his hand, watching as the boy made an obscene gesture with his middle finger in your general direction. The taller boy stepped closer to the other, gently grasping his arm by the wrist and redirected the gesticulation to face more fully at you instead of a little to the left where it once was pointed. Both of you paused, looking between each other's eyes and the offending finger with barely contained mirth, before combusting dramatically into boisterous laughter. Sebastian leaned against the wall in support, nearly screaming around the laughs that wracked his body. You still stood across from Ominis, doubled over with your hands on your knees. Gasping breaths left your lungs as you teared up in humorous pain. Ominis’ scowl somehow got deeper, and once again he turned away from the pair of you and began to walk down the hallway himself— screw you two hooligans to the sticking place for all he cared.

“Yes, yes. Hardy har, laugh at the blind fellow. Incredibly mature, you both are.”

Sebastian walked up to your hunched form, patting you gently on the back before grasping at your shoulder and helping you stand. You both leaned on the other for support as the last of your giggles tittered into the air around you. Taking a deep, cleansing breath before shakily releasing the air, you began to walk after the tiffed boy. His haunches were raised above his ears, only the tips poked out and were flushed a light pink. You quickly ran to catch up with his quick steps, waving your wand around in front of you to avoid any obstacles in the low lighting. Your arm landed on his shoulders once again, and you sniggered jovially,

“I do apologize. That was terribly coarse of me, my dear Ominis.”

Sebastian slid up on the other side of the boy, wrapping his arm around his other shoulder and resting his hand at your elbow. He accentuated his accent, adopting an incredibly posh vernacular. “Indubitably. Frightfully uncouth of us. Please forgive us, dear friend.”

Ominis growled in the back of his throat, mumbling curses under his breath and shrugging off both of your arms. “Go lick a leprechaun taint, the both of you.”

You both gasped in outrage.

“How dare you, good sir!” Sebastian cried, a hand fluttering over his heart and a scandalized look decorating his visage.

You took a similar stance. “We are children of God! Deviant behavior such as that must be saved for one's wedding bed.”

The two pureblood wizards paused and turned towards you, confusion laced in their eyebrows. The brunette leaned closer to you, arms now crossed in befuddlement, and glanced at you from his peripheral vision like he was about to share a secret.

“What’s a ‘God’?” Sebastian whispered out of the side of his mouth.

You turned towards the boy, finger raised and mouth open with an explanation at the tip of your tongue. You quickly decided against it, though, as you knew it would just confuse them more. Best not try to explain muggle religion to two boys who have never stepped out of their small towns until it was time to go to school. You sighed, lowering your hand and about facing the end of the hall, ambling along ahead of the pack. The two boys shrugged and continued after you.

At the far end of the hallway stood two imposing stone walls, an ostentatious doorway slid into the space between. Looking at the entrance, embellished in the texture of scales and decorated with serpent imagery, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. Each turn in this maze of a catacomb seemed to linger with a foreboding aura, flooding your senses and raising the hairs at the back of your neck. You turned to look at Sebastian, now at your elbow just behind you. He was gazing at the door in pure curiosity, his eyebrows pinched together in contemplation. He ran his hand along the intricate carvings, tracing each snake with delicate precision.

Ominis slowly entered the room, his head tilted left and then right with a pensive look adorning his face. He stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes, seemingly listening to something that only he could hear. Soft hisses slithered through the room from the pipes above, adding to the dreadful vibe. Each hiss caused him to twitch in one direction to the next. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was possessed by a snake itself.

His eyes suddenly snapped open, startling you with his ferocity. He quickly paced towards the door, running his hand along the carvings with Sebastian. The homing signal at the tip of his wand cast an eerie glow on the wood, mingling with the green fire torches lining the walls. He leaned his ear on the door, listening closely to the whispers in the walls. He tilted his head towards the pair of students, gesturing with his chin at the entryway.

“It’s speaking to me.”

You quirked an eyebrow at the boy. “The wall is talking to you?”

He nodded, pressing his ear against the wall once again. You walked towards the blond, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead in puzzlement.

“Are you feeling alright, Ominis? Are you ill? How can the wall be ta—”

“Shush!” He gently grasped your arm and lowered your hand to your side. “No, you numpty. It’s speaking parseltongue, the language of snakes.”

Sebastian leaned away from the door, snapping his fingers in excitement and pointing at the blind boy.

“I forgot you could speak parseltongue!”

Ominis huffed to himself, trepidation coating his tightly spoken words, “Well, I don’t particularly enjoy it. Parseltongue is notoriously associated with dark wizards, something as you know I have tried very hard to disassociate myself with.”

He leaned away from the door, instead resting his hand on the wall beside it. He looked up, unseeing, at the grand archway decorating the edges of the room and listened carefully once again to the hissed whispers.

“I think I need to speak to the door for it to open. Please step back, the both of you. I don’t want you hurt if something goes awry.”

You both took a noisy step back, making sure to alert him since he briefly put away his wand in favor of leaning on the stone wall with both hands.

Ominis sighed to himself, blowing upwards and dislodging part of his hair from his styled quiff. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

From his mouth came a series of lethargic hisses, stringed together as if in a sentence. The sound seemed to fill the entire room, echoing off the stone walls and bouncing back at you from all angles. It amplified steadily as the hisses from above answered in turn.

Three of the decorative serpents came to life within the wood, slithering through the holes of the door and gliding along the edges of its carved trenches. A stream of mist puffed from its outer ridges, silencing the voices floating around you with a defined burst of powerful air. It blew the hairs dangling around your face backwards, tickling the tips of your ears and the back of your neck. Every hair on your body stood on edge and you suppressed a shiver.

The three of you stood silently for a moment, basking in the sudden quiet. It was like a bubble that had mysteriously appeared around your heads spontaneously popped, sending a rush of startling stillness pulsating directly into your ears.

Ominis was the first to break the spell, clearing his throat around the tightness that rested there, his cheeks glowing with a soft rosacea, and gestured through the now open doorway.

“After you.”

Your face broke out into an animated grin. “Ominis, you truly possess a rare ability, indeed!” You gently brushed your hand on his shoulder as you passed through the archway. Ominis’ cheeks blushed a darker red, and he reached his hand behind his head, rubbing softly at his neck in embarrassment.

“Oh, er, it’s nothing.”

Sebastian stayed in the back of the group, a scowl on his face and his arm crossed tightly across his chest. He glowered at the door like it affronted him, cursing it for allowing his friend to show his rare gift. Stalking towards the next room, irritation heavily prevalent in his steps, he muttered to himself the phrase you had just spoken in a mocking tone. He wasn’t sure which of you he should feel jealous of— you complimenting Ominis, or Ominis getting complimented by you.

Both, he decided. He was jealous of both.

The three students passed under the bend and entered into the next room of the monolith-lined maze. Once fully inside, the imposing door behind you closed with a loud slam. Sebastian ran at it, pulling desperately at the carvings and pushing with all his strength. Ominis joined him, throwing his weight at it with a grunt. The door didn’t budge.

“Shit!” Hissed the brunette, punching the door one last time before taking in the room behind him. “Guess we’re stuck in here until we find the next room.”

The blond leaned back against the wood, an annoyed puff of hair leaving his mouth. “Until we find the next room? How do we even know that there’s a next room? We could very well just be stuck here until we inevitably die of thirst or hunger, whichever happens first.” Ominis turned his head towards the sound of the pacing boy. “Sebastian, we’re eating you first.”

Sebastian stuttered in outrage, “Why me?!”

“Because it was your idea to come here in the first place!”

“Say that to my face you—”

Tired of listening to the boys argue, you lit the tip of your wand and began to explore the new area you had unlocked. It was a large stone room with a gunmetal gate at one end, a giant lock decorating the middle. Spiderwebs covered every corner, starting from the very far bottom corner and stretching to the upper corner across the room. You shuddered, thinking of the large arachnids you had fought not that long ago. You hated spiders. Making your way closer to the gate, you traced your finger along the lock, noting strange shapes in the metal. It seemed like it wouldn’t take a key like normal, it was a puzzle of some sort.

Turning towards your friends, you tuned back in their argument. They were face to face, arms crossed, with indignant expressions.

“It’s your ancestor that seems to like puzzles so much!”

“Look in a mirror, Sebastian.”

“How dare you!” He stuttered for a moment, wracking his brain for a suitable comeback, “Were you dropped on your head as a child?!”

Ominis scoffed, a sarcastic grin stretching his lips, “Oh, bold of you to assume I was ever held—”

“BOYS!” You shouted for them from the gate. “Can you have your lover’s quarrel later? I found something.”

Their faces instantly softened a fraction at the sound of your voice. They stepped away from each other, embarrassed by their squabble, straightened their cloaks, and walked over to where you stood.

Sebastian came up to the gate, running his fingers along the lock like you did, before grasping at the bars and giving it a good shake. The gate rattled against the ground, scraping at the concrete below, but refused to budge. He took a step closer, craning his head around and looking through the small slits in the metal. His collar dug into his neck uncomfortably. Growling, the boy tugged on the offending cloth.

“This bloody collar—”

The freckled boy stood back, looking at the gate once more for a moment before undoing his robe and tossing it unceremoniously to the ground. He shrugged off his jacket and vest next, leaving him just in his white button down and tie. He quickly pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, shaking out his arms in the process, and loosened his tie before undoing a few buttons near the top of his shirt. Grasping his wand between his teeth, Sebastian took hold of one of the horizontal metal rungs in the gate and pulled upwards with all his might. Still no movement.

A blush began to creep up your neck at the display before you, and you averted your eyes from the very attractive boy. You turned towards Ominis, only to find him in a similar state of undress. He was in the process of carefully undoing the buttons around his cuffs and folding the sleeves to his elbow. You noticed he had neatly gathered his jacket, vest, and robe and placed them atop one of the assorted rocks littering the ground. He began to walk towards the other boy, listening to his struggling grunts of effort. Your blush somehow got brighter.

“Let me try.”

Sebastian took a step back and waved his hands in a “have at it” motion. Ominis approached the gate in a similar stance to the other boy, flexing his forearms and pulling upwards once again. You could see his muscles straining under the material; he may have been slim, but he certainly wasn’t unfit. Eyes skipping from one boy to the other, one with his hands on his hips, panting at the effort he had just exuded, and the other now pondering the gate before him, a finger resting on his chin and hand resting on his other elbow across his chest, you suddenly felt like the room had gotten at least ten degrees hotter.

In your flustered state, you took a step back away from your companions. You bumped into something just behind you, a piece of sharp stone slicing through your shoulder. Releasing a hiss in pain, you grasped at the wound and quickly turned around, looking for the offending object. Just over your shoulder stood a large stone statue of a snake poised to strike. It was resting on two circular bases, one atop the other with just enough space between to twist them to different directions. You noticed symbols decorating the rims of each— they were the same shape and style as the two on the gate lock. You quickly crouched down and took hold of the stone, turning it until both bases lined up with the ones on the lock. A loud click sounded through the room and the gate before you opened.

The three of you quickly turned towards the sound, wands poised in front of you ready to strike. Seeing no danger, you all lowered your weapons and turned back towards the statue. You crouched yet again, running your fingertip along the other symbols.

You spoke to the boys over your shoulder, “It’s a puzzle. You have to match the gate symbols to the ones on the snake.”

Sebastian barked a laugh, coming up behind you and gazing at the sculpture. “Absolutely brilliant, you are! Bet I could do that just as well, eh?” He patted you on your shoulder with pride, not noticing your new injury. You clenched your teeth, a pained hiss escaping through the gaps. The brunette drew his hand back in alarm, looking at the small streak of blood on his palm. He took your arm gently, eyebrows furrowed at the medium sized cut in concern.

“Stars, you’re hurt! What happened? Are you alright?”

You placed your hand over one of his, looking at him over your shoulder and forcing a laugh. “That’s how I found the statue in the first place. I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.”

He looked at you with doubt, but let it go, releasing your arm and taking a step back. “If you say so.”

You stood, shaking out your arms and shoulders. His hands felt like small fires against the cool air of the mausoleum.

“Okay, Ominis and I will stay here and look for more of these puzzles. Sebastian, you go look in the other room and see if you find anything. Call out if you need backup.”

Sebastian saluted two fingers in your direction before running at the open gate, grabbing at the taller ledge of the other room and heaving himself up. You watched him disappear onto the other floor. You and Ominis spread out, each taking a different corner of the room. It was bigger than you originally expected, going on for at least the length of a classroom. There was another gate at the very center of the room, the same as the other. Your eyes scanned each corner of your side for the distinct shape of Salazar’s sculpt, calling to Ominis on the other side of the room.

“So, why does Salazar Slytherin like snakes so much, anyway?”

Ominis shrugged, “Some legends say that he was an animagus— that his form was a basilisk.”

You whistled lowly, “That’s a big snake.”

The boy chuckled softly, going back to the original silence directly after. Ominis bit his lip, chewing it over what he should say next. He didn’t like the silence, it made him feel like he was back home. The ambiance of the Scriptorium certainly didn’t help, either.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Are you truly alright?”

You smiled, moving over to his side where he was feeling along the wall. You rested your hand on his shoulder, a feather light touch that felt like a heavy weight because of his nerves. “I am, I promise. Please don’t worry about me, everything is fine.”

He turned his face towards your voice. “I always worry. About the both of you.”

Your face softened at the confession, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing at the contact. Brushing your thumb against his cheekbone, you felt a surge of nerves in your stomach; butterflies bumping around in the inner lining of your gut. You opened your mouth to speak.

“Ominis, I—”

A short shout cuts through the quiet. You both whip your heads in the direction of the open gate, calling out to the boy on the other side.

“Sebastian, are you alright?”

You hear him fumble around for a moment, calling in return, “The statue bit me! Be careful not to get it wrong!”

Ominis gently grasped your chin, turning it back towards his face. He listened to you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to continue your thought from before. The blond was incredibly nervous, hoping that you couldn’t tell that his hand was shaking. You hesitantly flick your eyes from his irises to his lips, soft and inviting. You wet your own, taking a shaky breath in.

“What were you saying?” Ominis whispered, his face a hairs length away.

Your eyes quickly slid over to the left, feeling incredibly hot under the collar all of a sudden. A strange shaped rock caught your attention, curved at the base like a worm. There it was, the final puzzle. You gasped, fumbling out of Ominis’ hold on you and quickly scurrying over to it, turning the dial to the shapes on the other gate. Just as yours slotted into place, a second click could be heard from the room over. The second gate opened with a loud, rusted creak, leading into a third, and what you hoped was final, room.

Sebastian made his way back over to the two of you, an elated grin stretching across his face as he gazed into the next section of the crypt. Ominis had dropped his arm when you de-tangled yourself, now crossing both in front of his chest with an expression similar to someone who smelled something foul.

The three of you crept into the room, wands poised for any danger that may come forward. The gate slammed shut behind you once more, trapping you there like before.

“Salazar Slytherin isn’t done with us yet,” Ominis whispered, a grave seriousness adorning his visage.

You quietly make your way to the other side of the room where a large, disfigured door lay. It was covered in carvings; scratches marred the corners, flowing dangerously into disturbing images of screaming faces. You felt the air around you grow even colder than before, a shiver running down your spine. There was a flutter of paper to your right, and you swung your wand towards the sound. The tip illuminated an old piece of parchment, covered in dust with sections of it nibbled away by rats. You gently pick up the letter, afraid it would fall apart at the slightest movement. On it was a journal entry of sorts, big looping cursive depicting the fate of the last explorer to make it to this room. You carefully scanned the note, each word filling your chest with dread. Gazing down at the ground near your feet, you quietly gasp at the sight of a decaying skeleton. Its bones were a stark alabaster against the gray concrete floor; spiderwebs weaved throughout the skull and down to the rib cage.

Noctua Gaunt.

You quietly ushered Sebastian over to where you stood, handing him the final journal entry of the woman before you. He scanned it, his eyes growing larger by the second and his face adopting a grim expression. The freckled boy looked at you for confirmation, and you gestured to the skeleton below. He gasped quietly in his throat, looking over his shoulder at the other Slytherin quietly pacing by the gated entrance.

You quietly spoke, sympathy lacing your tone, “Ominis, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. There’s a note over here, next to a body.” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “It’s Noctua.”

The boy froze his movements, head tilting down towards the ground in sorrow. “What happened to her?”

“The note says she was stuck in here, and that she could only open the door with an unforgivable curse. She didn’t have anyone else in here with her, so she was unable to escape.”

You walked up to the now shaking boy, his hands grasping at his opposite elbows to ground himself. You gently moved your hand to his shoulder, stroking the joint with your thumb. He roughly shrugged your hand away, returning to his pacing; his face morphed into a look of pain. His hands ran through his hair in anguish, mussying it up into a wild mane.

“She died stuck in here, and we will suffer the same fate. We will be stuck down here forever— the next person to enter will find our bodies like we found hers.”

Sebastian bent down to pick up the note you dropped, studying it closely again. He quickly paced towards you both, anxious nervousness rubbing off of him in waves.

“Don’t give up quite yet. She says that she couldn’t leave because she was alone and had no one to cast the spell on. There’s three of us— we can get out! We just have to cast the unforgivable.”

Ominis threw his hands down in agitation, spitting at the other boy, “That’s dark magic, Sebastian! Unforgivables are unforgivable for a reason. You can’t just cast one, you need to mean it, and I don’t particularly want to hurt either of you. Do you?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows knitted together in irritation, “If it means getting out of here alive and finding a cure for Anne, I’ll do anything I have to.”

You stepped between the two squabbling boys, holding your hands aloft to keep their distance from the other. This argument was getting heated fast, a darker, more dangerous aura rested under the surface than the argument in the prior room. You spoke to the brunette to your left, “Sebastian, which spell is it? What do we need to do?”

He scanned the note for a third time, eyes alight in a combination of rage and panic. His expression grew grave, and he felt something lodge itself in his throat. He forced the words out from around it, slightly choked with emotion, “We need to cast the cruciatus curse.”

Ominis’ wrath was palpable in the air, filling the room like a thick fog. “Absolutely not! There must be another way out. There is no way in Merlin’s name that I’m letting either of you cast that spell!”

The taller Slytherin growled, throwing the note down on the ground and pacing back to the horrifying door. He ran his hand along the faces, each twisted in pain. He sighed, pushing his anger back down into his chest. It would do them no good to argue with each other.

“I understand that you’re scared, Ominis, but there isn’t another spell. This is the only way out.” He took a deep, steadying breath, before finishing his thought. “You’re the only one here who knows the spell. It should be you who casts—”

“Are you soft in the head!? I would rather die than cast that spell again. I question our friendship just at the fact that you would ask that of me.”

Sebastian pressed his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose, pinching it in exasperation. He turned on the balls of his feet towards where you were, silently watching the fight with fright in your eyes. He walked towards you, placing both of his palms on your shoulders and looking deep into your eyes.

“It’s up to us, then.” He paused, searching your face for something. His eyebrows creased in concentration and something else that you couldn’t name. Fear? Anger? Assurance? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. He quickly spun away from you, beginning to pace the length of the room while muttering to himself, tapping his wand against his leg in a sporadic rhythm. You watched from your spot next to the door. It seemed to glow with evil energy, spreading its wicked tendrils around the room like a well-fed devils snare. You could almost feel it crawling its way into your nose and mouth, wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air from your lungs. Rapid breaths escaped from your lips, your heart pulsing rapidly in your chest. Your wide eyes, absolutely swimming in terror, refused to leave the daunting door. You open your mouth to speak, before a resolute voice cuts you off from your thoughts.

“Cast it on me.”

Your breath caught in your chest, freezing in your veins as your blood ran cold. Surely you didn’t hear him correctly? He wasn’t asking you to—

“Cast it on me, it’s the only way.”

You slowly turned in his direction, meeting Sebastian’s beautiful brown eyes, normally filled with warmth but now cold and hard. He stood directly across from you, the glow of the door casting a striking shadow on his youthful face. His demeanor was all straight lines; tight and unmoving in discernment. There was no changing his mind, he had made his choice— his figurative bed. He would rather take the curse himself than have to cast it on either of his closest friends. You saw the determination in his eyes, in the thin line of his lips and jagged edges of his clenched jaw. He was an immovable force, and who were you to try and bend physics to your will? You closed your eyes, gathering your resolve, before meeting his eyes once again. The fire behind your irises burned brightly, a blazing inferno ready to take the entire world into its flames.

“Alright, if you’re sure. Do you know the spell?”

He looked at the door again in trepidation before meeting your gaze, something unknown still swirling in his irises. “In theory. I can teach it to you.”

The both of you moved through the motions of the spell, repeating it a few times to make sure you knew what you were doing. The movements in itself felt dirty— wrong, even. Like you weren’t supposed to be privy to this kind of knowledge. Your wand arm felt numb, like the cold was seeping into your very bones and inducing hypothermia. You swallowed thickly, before raising your wand to Sebastian’s chest. You stared into the other’s eyes, both filled with intense worry and fright.

“Are you ready?”

The brunette took a deep breath through his nose, clearing his mind and attempting to calm his rapid heartbeat. He nodded his head, not trusting his voice, eyes squeezing shut in preparation for the unimaginable pain he was about to experience.

Your shaking voice spoke, mouth feeling weird around the accursed word.

“Crucio.”

A slight red spark shot from the tip of your wand, but no pain came to the Sallow boy. His eyes shot open, looking at you across from him. You were shaking like a leaf, staring confused at your wand and then at him. He knitted his brows in angered confusion.

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Ominis spoke from the back corner where he had sat himself, head leaning heavily on the wall behind him and his arms resting on the tops of his knees. His face was riddled with resignation. “I told you, you have to mean it. You have to want to inflict pain on the other person.”

Sebastian growled loudly, his teeth clashing together harshly as he clenched his jaw in anger. “If you’re not going to offer anything helpful, just be quiet.”

You stood in stunned silence at the boy's ferocity. He quickly rounded back towards you, teeth clenched in a near snarl. He pointed at you accusingly,

“Why aren’t you angry? You need to be furious! Yell at me— tell me this is all my fault! Let me have it!”

You stuttered at the boy, hands shaking even more forcefully now. You knew what he was doing; he was trying to make you hate him. He wanted you to be so angry at him that you could easily cast the curse. Unfortunately, the tactic seemed to have the opposite effect on you. Your heart ached for the boy, listening to each word he said and knowing somewhere in your heart that he thought this of himself. Apologies filled your mouth and spilled out like a waterfall of dismay. They splashed against the ground and the droplets sprayed everywhere, bouncing harshly against the echo chamber walls.

Sebastian continued yelling, rage pouring from his being, “Stop apologizing! I brought us down here, it’s my fault we’re in this situation to begin with! I’m the reason you have to cast this spell! You didn’t want to come here at all before I basically forced you and Ominis. Look at him, he’s petrified! I did this, cast it on me!”

Tears gathered in your eyes, horrified terror coursed through your body because of the boy across from you. He was breathing heavily, eyes ablaze and nostrils flaring like a bull. You had never seen him like this before. The anger poured from him and swirled around the air like a dense cloud, permeating every inch of the desolate cavern. Ominis hesitantly stood from the corner, intense worry spreading across his face. He slowly approached the two, steps soft and slow, hands outstretched in front of him like he was dealing with a raging animal. He could smell the tension, feel the red hot heat of fury and agitation.

He hesitantly spoke, his voice shaking with a soft timber, “Sebastian, take a step back. You’re scaring them.”

The frenzied boy rounded at his friend, snarling and gnashing his teeth, “No, they have to do this!”

You continued to spew apologies, the words getting swallowed by the thick, maroon fog and evaporating into vapor. Tears cascaded down your frightened face, staring unblinking at your rampaging friend. He was nearly foaming at the mouth in outrage, his eyes wild and hardened. He didn’t look like himself, a complete stranger in his own body. All Sebastian could feel was anger, extremely hot and branding his very soul with a wave of wrath. He could hear your pitiful cries, Ominis’ begging for him to stop. He wouldn’t let you both stand in the way of curing his sister.

“Crucio!”

Your screams filled the small room, ricocheting off the walls and burying inside the duo's ears. Ominis slapped his arms around his head, bending over in pain, his sensitive ears amplifying the violent outburst tenfold. His heart shattered in his chest at the sound of your pain, crushing his soul in its devastating grasp. The sound snapped Sebastian out of his trance, his face morphing into one of absolute horror and revoltion at what he had just done. He dropped his wand in shock, stumbling backwards into the nearest wall and sliding down it. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched you writhe on the floor in never-ending pain. He brought his hands up to his mouth, covering it in distress, and whispered curses and pleading apologies against his skin.

“Oh Merlin, what have I done? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”

Pain— that’s all you knew. Your blood was boiling under your skin, the veins feeling like they were going to burst out of you in a shower of blood at any moment. You clutched your abdomen in agony, nails biting into your arms in desperation. Blood ran down from your hands, coating your sleeves and staining them red. Each organ felt like it was dying slowly, decay seeping deep into your body and coating every surface. Your heart pounded harder than ever before, threatening to combust right through your ribs and out of your chest. Every nerve ending fired off in rapid succession, blazing through your body like a wild inferno and leaving intense burns in its wake. Your head was the worst. It felt like someone stabbed a freezing ice pick through your eye socket, retracting it and pushing back in with each pound of your heart against your skull. Bile rose into your throat, evaporating around the force of your wails of pain. You were curled on the ground, arms tight against yourself in protection. It felt like you would never be happy, be well, again. The torment went on for what felt like years, centuries even, wracking your body with heaving sobs and otherworldly screams.

In an instant it was over. Sparks of residual magic shot against your skin, shaking your body to its core. The world around you was dark and silent, your senses absolutely fried. A heavy weight was resting against your back, pressing against you with a relieving, grounding pressure. Your hearing returned first, flooding in like you had just rinsed the water from them.

“Come back to us! Are you alright? Damn it, please say something!” The panicked voice of Ominis filled your electrified brain, the sound grating against your ears. He pressed his palms against your cheeks and raised your head from its spot on the cold ground, wiping the tears from your face. He rested his forehead against yours, listening closely to your shuddering breaths. “Please, give me a sign that you’re still in there.”

A groan eased its way out of your tight throat, pushing past the damage your screams had done and croaking through like a toad. Ominis sighed in relief, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gathering you gently in his arms. He stroked your hair, letting the last of the tremors make their way out of your body. Your consciousness faded in and out, lids fluttering open and closed around the blackness resting just behind your eyes.

“Shush now, don’t push yourself. Everything’s going to be okay.” Ominis gently coaxed your head to rest against his collarbone, his cheek pressing against the roof of your head. He continued his movements along your hair absentmindedly, lulling you into a soft sense of security.

The blond spoke to the distraught boy behind him, voice devoid of any emotion. “We need to get them to the infirmary.”

Sebastian broke out of his morose stupor, panic rising in his voice, “We can’t! She’ll know that we’ve used an unforgivable! Not to mention, we’re out past curfew. We’ll likely get expelled, or worse!”

Ominis sighed inwardly, his head leaning back and smacking against the wall behind him with a dull thunk. He knew that Sebastian was right, no matter how much he wanted to throw the boy to the wolves at that very moment. If they were to bring you to the hospital wing the nurse would ask all three of them questions, and none of them were prepared for that. There wasn’t a single lie in the world that would be that convincing. With a final growl of agitation, he made a decision.

“Fine, the Undercroft, then.” He leveled the taller boy with a harsh glare. “Go get whatever you’re looking for and meet us down there. I hope this trip was worth it, Sallow.”

The clock tower sounded three times, signaling the beginning of the witching hour. Two students rested against the chaise lounge conjured up out of an old shipping crate. Your shoulder had been dressed, the bandage peeking out from under your ripped blouse. The same was done for the indentations on your arms, half moons lining your biceps in a circle from your sharp nails digging into your skin. Ominis gently stroked your hair from where your head rested on his lap. You had fallen asleep not long ago, your quiet whines of pain tempered out and gave way to startling silence. Anger festered under the boy’s skin, warming him to an uncomfortable degree. It burned in the back of his mind, boiling against the memory of your screams and whimpers of immense pain. He had half a mind to curse Sebastian where he had stood in the Scriptorium. Ominis heard his panicked breaths and whispered apologies after he brought you to your knees, truly realizing the damage that he had done and the dangers of dark magic. Good, he thought. Maybe he’d finally stop moving down the dark path that he was so set on. He deserved to beg for your forgiveness.

The metal gate of the Undercroft squeaked open, the sound of heavy footfalls following after. Ominis gently picked up your sleeping head, standing from the chaise and lowering you onto one of the many pillows lining the cushions. He quickly paced towards the brunette, eyes blazing with barely concealed fury. Sebastian paid no mind, flipping through the large tomb he had collected from Salazar’s Scriptorium. He looked up and saw the approaching boy, not noticing the very prevalent anger on his face.

“Ominis, you’re not going to believe what I found—”

The smaller boy slammed into him, pressing his forearm against his neck and shoving him harshly into the nearest wall. His wand was pressed against his chin, glowing menacingly in the candlelight of the hideaway. The blond’s mouth was twisted into a gruesome snarl, teeth looking like fangs in the dim lighting. Sebastian gulped against the arm pressed against his larynx. He dropped the book in surprise, a cloud of dust puffing up from the ground at its harsh landing. Even though Sebastian knew that Ominis couldn’t truly see him, the boy’s heated glare seemed to set fire to his very soul.

Ominis growled at the taller boy in a gravely low voice, his teeth gnashing around each word. “If you ever hurt them again, you will be dead where you stand. This is the last I want to hear of dark magic, Sebastian. You’ve gone too far; people have gotten hurt. Promise me that you’ll stop— you’ll find some other way to heal Anne, or this friendship will continue no longer.”

Sebastian nodded as much as he could around his friend’s arm, squeezing the words out of his crushed throat, “Yes, I understand, I’m sorry!”

The anger seemed to evaporate from the smaller boy in mere seconds, his arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slumping. He grasped the front of the freckled boy’s shirt, leaning his forehead against his chest with a heavy sigh.

“I almost lost you both today. I can’t do that, don’t make me live through that again. Please, I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t bear the thought.”

His shoulders began to shake, tremors rocking his entire body and sending the tears gathering in his eyes down his pale cheeks. He softly cries into the shirt of his friend, grasping harder at the cotton between his fingers and burying his face even deeper. The freckled boy stands still for a moment, startled by the sudden emotional whiplash. He hesitantly raises his arms and circles them around the shoulders of the crying boy, looking over to your sleeping form with guilt swirling in his eyes.

He had hurt both of his friends today over something he thought was so trivial, so insignificant. He just wanted to find a cure for his sister, not cause undeniable pain to those he loved. He truly was turning into a monster; the dark magic he was so fascinated by had begun to circle around his heart, squeezing it with its thick tentacles. Sebastian buried his head into Ominis’ neck, deeply breathing in his scent. The mildew of the cellar was thick against his skin, but reminisce of his expensive cologne and natural scent, something musky and rich, still lingered there. He focused on it, the familiar smell warming his insides and bringing his heartbeat to a slight increase.

He hadn’t promised the boy that he’d stop exploring the dark arts, instead twisting his words into something that sounded like agreement. Sebastian knew that he would come to regret that decision, but he couldn’t give up on Anne. She was his flesh and blood, his twin sister. She was everything to him. He knew that he would hurt his two closest friends more than words can express with his decisions, but deep in his heart he believed that he was doing the right thing.

With a heavy heart, Sebastian basked in the comfort of the Undercroft and the arms wrapped around his waist, praying to anyone who would listen that this wouldn’t be the last time he felt this safe.

AN: Did I make an "Ominis gets pegged" joke? Yes, yes I did.

***

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tripta-123 · 1 year ago

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sombersummerskies · 1 year ago

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A Champion's Love: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Royal Meeting Word Count: 4553 CW: None

Want all the chapters? -> Masterlist

~~~ <> ~~~

The journey to Zora’s Domain was rather grueling. Every corner you turned there was a Lizalfos trying to spear you, part of the road was blockaded by Octorocks trying to shoot at you, and at some point on one of the higher bridges a black Moblin had come out of nowhere in an attempt to surprise attack you.

Luckily, though, Prince Sidon had been speaking to you in that instant and managed to warn you in time. In fact, Sidon had shown up many times along the way to reassure you. The constant encouragement was doing wonders for your confidence, and you were rather starting to like his cheery and upbeat demeanor.

You checked the map on your Sheikah Slate frequently to make sure you weren’t straying from the path. At one point you were walking up one of the higher points of the path, near a dam called the East Reservoir Lake. You could see a spout shooting up in the distance- but you couldn’t tell if it was some kind of steam or mist. It looked so concentrated that it almost seemed like a stream of water shooting in an upright direction, which seemed almost physically impossible.

Pulling yourself up over the rocks to investigate, you look over and gasp at what you see. Something massive was submerged in the dam’s water. You could see part of its body, clearly something man-made, with whirring, red-glowing parts. A large spout, almost like a trunk, was rising up out of the water, shooting a furious and constant flow of water up into the sky.

‘That’s the Divine Beast Vah Ruta… that’s what’s causing all the rain. That is much bigger than what I was imagining.’

You had a realization: the scope of the situation at hand and what was truly at stake. When you continued on the path to Zora’s Domain, you found your feet going at a quicker pace than beforehand.

…

Before long you found yourself walking along the Great Zora Bridge, and looking around in awe at the region before you. The architecture was astounding- it had been built using many luminous stones, no doubt. The massive fish statue at the top intimidated you just a tad. The whole place was just so… grandiose. And somehow it fit Sidon perfectly.

At the end of the bridge you made your way up the small set of stairs, having to hold onto the railing to avoid slipping as the entire place was covered in water, causing the smooth flooring to become quite slick beneath your boots.

The sight of Sidon running over to greet you causes you to smile widely. He walks through the arched entryway which was flanked on either side by a Zora guard. “I’ve been waiting for you!” he exclaimed bombastically, striking his signature pose as you took the few extra steps to approach you. The two guards beside him both chuckled, clearly amused with the Prince’s peppy behavior.

“Welcome! Behold the pride of my people, Zora’s Domain! Now I shall introduce you to the king. Hurry, this way!” he explained, before turning and heading up a tall staircase. You could only assume the king was somewhere beneath that large fish sculpture, it seemed to be a centerpiece of the area.

Passing by the two guards who both offered you quaint hellos, you made your way through the plaza, passing by young Zora’s who were running around a statue excitedly. You paused in front of the statue before heading up the stairs though, as something about it seemed to draw you in.

It was a tall statue of a gorgeous Zora woman. She held a meticulously carved trident in her hands, and looked down at you with an expression of sweet sincerity and care. Whoever carved the statue must’ve been quite fond of the woman it portrayed. She also looked a tad like Sidon, but you weren't sure if you were imagining that. Perhaps she was an ancestor of his, his mother or grandmother, or something along those lines.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something that felt familiar about her. You knew it was more than just the resemblance to Sidon. ‘Did I know her a hundred years ago? Did I know her before the calamity?’

You managed to tear your eyes away from the statue and walked up the right staircase, up to the next floor. At the top of the staircase you could see an elder Zora shocking himself repeatedly with a shock arrow. Concerned, you jogged up the steps towards him and could hear him speaking, or more so rambling, to himself.

“KYAHHH! Lady Mipha! Watch THIS! I, Seggin, the aptly named Demon Sergeant, shall strike down the Divine Beast Vah Ruta!” he ranted, standing over the shock arrow victoriously as though it were a monster to be slain.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to try and catch his attention. “Um, whatcha doin’?” you asked curiously, a bit concerned for his well being. After what Sidon had told you about the Zora and electricity, you wanted to make sure this man wasn’t going to seriously injure himself.

The elder Zora turned to you and visibly jumped, clearly quite surprised by your presence. His expression then turned to one of anger, however. “You… you’re that Hylian! Finally, I can avenge Lady Mipha!” he exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “It has been a hundred years since you last showed your face here! Now I, Seggin, will cut you down myself!”

“What, uh… what do you mean?” you asked, clearly quite confused. A pair of guards who flanked the upper staircases were watching the scene unfold before them, and you quickly wanted to diffuse the situation before anything drastic happened.

“Playing dumb, eh?! Nice try, but you cannot fool me, Champion! You were unable to protect Lady Mipha from Calamity Ganon! It has been a hundred years since we lost her… poor Lady Mipha… how heartbreaking…” he went on, continuing this angry rant but growing much sadder now.

‘This Lady Mipha must’ve been a very important Zora… but he speaks as though it’s directly my fault that she passed on… that can’t be true, right?’ you wondered, crossing your arms as you watched Seggin look away from you, his expression now distraught.

Your lack of memories from a hundred years ago was starting to heavily annoy you. You wanted to remember what happened. You want to know who this Lady Mipha was so you could console this elder Zora who’s still very broken up about what happened even a century later.

You plucked up your courage and captured his attention once more. “I won’t fail her again. I won’t fail any of the Zora again,” you stated confidently, though Seggin didn’t seem at all reassured.

“Hmph! There is no way we could ask for your help now, after all this time and after all that has happened! So says I, Seggin, the Demon Sergeant! Even if this body of mine is destroyed… I will drown Ruta in shock arrows myself! And in doing so, Lady Mipha’s regrets shall be alleviated,” he concluded, looking down at you with an expression of pure distaste… and almost hatred. It was a look that unsettled you greatly.

He turned back to his shock arrow, before quickly doubling back to make a final statement. “If you understand anything of courage, then get out of my way at once!”

You nodded your head glumly and stepped up the rest of the stairs. The two guards who had been listening in quickly returned to their stoic posts. You heard Seggin resume his touching of the shock arrow, and you considered taking it so he wouldn’t hurt himself but decided against it. He probably wanted to be left alone.

Instead you turned to the massive staircase in front of you, split on either side around a statue of the Goddess Hylia. Pausing in front of the statue, you gulped nervously, feeling the weight of the situation on your shoulders once more.

‘Goddess, give me strength.’

…

On your way up the staircase, you had some questions in your mind. What was the king like? Does he look like Sidon? Is he as kind as Sidon? And after that run in with Seggin, you were just hoping that he didn’t hold a grudge against you after something that occurred a hundred years ago which you still didn’t even remember.

Arriving at the top of the stairs though, your eyes went wide at the sight. A tall Zora, at least three times Sidon’s height, sat in a throne submerged in a small pool. His scales were a stark navy blue, quite the opposite of Sidon’s, which contrasted with the bright red sash tied around him. He wore jewelry and accessories quite similar to Sidon’s, with silver braces around his neck, arms, and the tail that sprouted from the back of his head, golden ropes, and blue jewels.

He seemed to be in a conversation with Sidon and a shorter, elder Zora as you entered the throne room. The sound of your boots on the smooth cut flooring drew the attention of all three, stopping their conversation. As you walked forward to stand before the king himself, Sidon offered you a pure-hearted smile, clearly one of encouragement. The elder Zora across from him merely scowled at your presence.

Stepping up onto a small pedestal, you looked up at the king as he gazed down at you. ‘Should I bow… state my name and purpose? How do I go about this respectfully?’ you wondered, but before you had a chance to try anything the king began to speak, his voice clear and easily heard due to his sheer size.

“Ah. You must be the Hylian that Sidon brought here, correct? You did well to come all the way here! I am King Dorephan, ruler of the Zora.” he introduced himself, offering a smile as though he could sense how nervous you were. He suddenly became very intrigued and bent down a bit when his eyes caught something on your person. “Hm? That object upon your waist… is that not a Sheikah Slate?”

“Yes sir, it is,” you replied in confirmation, nodding your head. King Dorephan had a knowing look on his face, and at the same time both Sidon and the elder Zora had expressions of realization, all of which greatly confused you.

“Now that I have gotten a good look at you, it is all too clear who you are… you are the Hylian Champion!” he grinned, before pausing for a moment as though he were thinking. “... Do not tell me you have forgotten me…” He wore a similar look as the one that Impa had on her face back in Kakariko after you’d confessed you didn’t remember her.

“The Hylian Champion?” Sidon interjected, an astonished look on his face, “You can’t mean THE Champion? THAT Champion?! So that’s where I have heard your name before! What a fateful coincidence that we would cross paths!”

“I cannot believe it. The Hylian Champion has appeared before us… we have met numerous times, I'll have you know,” King Dorephan mused thoughtfully, sitting back in his throne, “Ah… so many memories! My mind is overflowing with nostalgia, my friend. I had heard a terrible rumor that you had fallen in combat, but it appears that you have managed to survive. Extraordinary!”

You shuffled your feet at the mention. It still miffed you that you were completely unaware of whatever accident occurred that wounded you terribly enough for a century long restoration. “I’ve been asleep since then, your majesty, it was the only way to save me. But… I’ve lost all my memories in the process,” you explained to them, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand in an attempt to soothe your nerves.

A look of confusion crossed over the king’s face, and he leaned down as he spoke, “Come again? You say you have lost your memory? But surely you must remember my precious daughter, Mipha, yes? You do, do you not?” he questioned, and you froze up on the spot, a sense of guilt filling you.

You cleared your throat, before slowly shaking your head no. And there again were those crestfallen expressions you were beginning to get used to at the mention of your lack of memories. “No… I’m sorry, I can’t recall her.”

“I cannot believe it… have you truly forgotten my dear Mipha as well? You and Mipha were so close… yet you do not remember her?” he asked, and the questions were only weighing down on you more and more, “Young hero… please look upon the beauty of Zora’s Domain.” he continued, moving his head in such a way that he gestured out to the plaza.

You turned, and when looking out from the throne room you were able to see the entrance of the Domain, and part of the statue of the Zora woman you had been looking at earlier. Piecing together the clues in your mind, you figured that that statue must’ve been of Lady Mipha. ‘No wonder I was so distracted by it earlier… she is someone from my past.’

“Do you see that stature? Does gazing upon Mipha’s immortalized form still not jog your memory?” King Dorephan continued on, his voice now edged with a more saddened tone. You shook your head no again as you turned to look back at him, and he sighed heavily, regarding you with a more inquisitive look, “Well, perhaps your memory will return in time. I dearly hope so.”

Sidon took a step forward to join the conversation again, your eyes meeting his as he gave you a sympathetic look before he turned to the king. “Father… I do not believe discussing my sister is helping matters at the moment. She seems confused.” he suggested, and you quietly thanked him for his help.

King Dorephan nodded and smiled at his son, “Oh? Yes, of course. But first, it is worth noting how remarkable it is that Sidon brought a champion here without realizing it! That is quite a feat, my boy!” the king chuckled, making Sidon blush a bit as he grinned at you.

‘He’s rather cute when he blushes… wait, what am I thinking, that’s completely inappropriate-’ you thought, chastising yourself for letting your mind stray in such a way.

“I doubt not that you have endured a great many trials. Still, I must ask you to hear my plea.” King Dorephan said, his voice now a more serious tone as he drew your attention back to him, “now then. Hero… I must inform you that Zora’s Domain is in danger of vanishing because of Divine Beast Vah Ruta. I shall do you the courtesy of speaking bluntly. We alone cannot stop this beast. Will you lend us your strength?” he inquired, and right before you could answer with a resounding yes, you were interrupted.

“What?!” a shrill voice cried, and you turned to see it was the elder Zora who had been standing silently all this time, “King Dorephan! My liege! Please do not speak so! To ask a Hylian for help… why, the very thought of it curls my fins!”

‘Oh… so he’s like Seggin. Lovely.’

King Dorephan shook his head at the elder Zora’s protests, “Muzu, I expected more of you. How can you still protest?”

Sidon, however, looked much more upset than his father. “Muzu! It is rude to speak that way to your king and his guest. The champion is here because I invited her! With such unprecedented rainfall, we have no choice but to rely on the aid of a trustworthy Hylian. Have we not already discussed this and arrived at that very conclusion?” he retaliated, though his voice softened as he turned to look at you, “She is the key to saving Zora’s Domain. I have no doubt in my mind.”

The king had been nodding his head as his son spoke, clearly agreeing with every point the prince laid down. “Indeed! She is a Champion, through and through. As things now stand, Zora’s Domain… Nay! Perhaps all of Hyrule is doomed to be swallowed by the sea. This is bigger than all of us, my friend. Zora and Hylians alike must put aside our differences and band together.” he declared in a level-headed tone, yet Muzu could still not see eye to eye with him.

“Have you forgotten already, my king?! We cannot trust these lowly Hylians!” he fumed, and your face screwed up at that.

‘Lowly?’

“A hundred years ago, they abused the power of an ancient civilization and turned Hyrule into what it is today! And that is not the least of it!” he continued, his fists visibly shaking in anger. He paused though, folding his hands behind his back as he turned to face the floor sadly. “It is their fault that Lady Mipha was lost to us…”

Everyone in the room remained silent for a few still moments once he was done talking. With concern on your face you turned to look back at Sidon, and while you could tell he was still upset with Muzu’s comments on Hylians, you could see the sadness in him as well. Everyone seemed to be able to sympathize with Muzu’s sadness over the loss of Mipha.

Breaking the silence, however, King Dorephan spoke again. “… Divine Beast Vah Ruta has great power. It has the unique ability to create an endless supply of water. Of late it has been mercilessly spouting water into the air. As a result, this area has been plagued by heavy rains. For us Zora, water and air are as one, so you would not think this would be quite so critical of a problem. Sadly, the rains have filled the eastern reservoir nearly to the point of flooding. If the reservoir bursts, as it soon will, I fear immense damage will befall not only Zora’s Domain, but also the area downstream for us. There, Hylian lives are in very grave danger-” he explained, but was cut off by a loud rumbling and trumpeting noise.

You turned, and it was very clear where the noise came from. To the east of the kingdom where the reservoir stood, the spout was visible high up in the distance, coming straight from the Vah Ruta.

“Hmm… the Divine Beast is crying out once again…” King Dorephan murmured as you turned back to look at him, “The Divine Beast Vah Ruta… your princess, Zelda, often studied the Divine Beasts. That is, in the time before the Great Calamity. According to her research, the orbs located on Ruta’s shoulders are mechanisms that can control the water it generates. However, they require electricity to work. These orbs are clearly out of control now because there is no electricity coursing through to stop them.”

“Seggin, who is quite shock resistant for a Zora, hit one with a shock arrow. Sure enough, it slowed the water a bit. Unfortunately, as I explained to you earlier, we Zora are terribly vulnerable to the power of electricity. Perhaps because we could not safely strike it with enough electricity at once, the water soon returned to its full force.” Sidon interjected, offering you a smile as he spoke, “that is why I went in search of a Hylian who could help us! I am certain you have already figured this out, but we need you to use shock arrows to get those orbs working properly again! I will aid you in any way I can, of course. Please, hero… I beg of you. Help me stop Ruta’s rampage of destruction!”

All three of them were looking at you now, expectant looks on their faces. You stepped back, feeling awkward where you stood with all the sudden attention. “I, um…” you mumbled nervously, unsure of how to properly answer. It was such a daunting task. You weren’t sure if you were prepared for it yet. You wanted to help, you truly did, but it almost seemed like too much.

Screwing up your courage though, you explained what Zelda had managed to tell you days previously through her spirit; how boarding the Divine Beasts would help in reclaiming them from Ganon.

“What?!” King Dorephan asked, clearly quite curious, “Princess Zelda herself instructed you to board the Divine Beast and appease it from within? So then… Princess Zelda is still alive?”

You nodded your head, “Yes, in Hyrule Castle. I believe she’s been alive this whole time keeping Calamity Ganon contained,” you explained to them, watching a look of astonishment settle on the king’s face.

“I do not believe it… she was alive this whole time, just as you were! The events of a hundred years ago cannot be altered, it is true. But if we can regain control of the Divine Beasts… they may yet prove useful in sealing Calamity Ganon once and for all!” he realized, nodding his head, clearly approving of the plan.

Sidon turned to you, with a look of curious consideration, “I did not know you had such grand ambitions…” he murmured, before breaking out into a confident grin, “Wondrous! Naturally, I shall help too! Once it has stopped rampaging, you can easily climb inside it. Come, champion! Let us appease Ruta together!”

His sheer excited and confident nature was beginning to rub off on you, and it seemed to ease you into the task at hand. “I’m in. Let’s do this!” you agreed, giving him a smile just as bright as the ones he gave you. He seemed to appreciate the gesture.

King Dorephan had been watching the two of you, clearly quite pleased you seemed to be getting along well already. “Thank you, hero. Truly. We are in your debt. Our goal is the same. That means our meeting was nothing short of destiny. Now then, allow me to offer you this gift as a show of faith.”

A pale blue Zora, presumably a servant of the royal family, walked over holding a chest when King Dorephan beckoned him. You reached out and popped open the lock on the silver chest, and gasped at what was inside. Pulling it out, you marveled at the armor you had just been handed. It was a gorgeous, deep blue with silver encrusted designs melded into it. The sleeves and back had scale decals, and the gloves and neckline had intricate blue crystals and even luminous stones embedded into it, and judging by how it felt in your hands, it seemed as though it would fit you perfectly once put on.

“T-thank you, your majesty,” you quickly said once looking the armor over, caught off guard by such a special gift but by no means complaining.

“So long as you wear this, you can ascend waterfalls just like a Zora,” the king explained, “please, take good care of it.”

Once again though, Muzu interrupted. “King Dorephan!! Surely you do not really intend to give this outsider the Zora armor! Countless generations of Zora princesses have gifted that armor to the one they have sworn to marry!” he complained, and this revelation staggered you.

‘... What? A gifted declaration of marriage? I can’t- I can’t accept this now... can I?’

“Princess Mipha made that one there with her own hands! It is far too important to entrust to a shady Hylian! She may be a Champion, but Mipha had no such relationship with her. So why should SHE receive such an honor? This is just too much, my liege! I do not understand it one bit!” he exclaimed, before storming off out of the throne room and descending one of the staircases.

The three of you watch him leave before King Dorephan decides to speak, “hmph. That Muzu is not easily swayed once his mind is set. You must understand… he was in charge of educating my dear daughter, Mipha. Naturally, she means a lot to him… just as she means the world to us. Ever since we lost her to the Calamity, he has grown to despise Hylians. I hope you can forgive his rudeness… but what shall we do now? I tasked Muzu with finding the shock arrows we will need to appease Vah Ruta. But now he has rushed off in a huff…”

“Do not let his words concern you, I will work this out with Muzu. I shall return shortly!” Sidon declared, and you turned to watch him run out of the throne room to follow Muzu.

“Sidon… I suppose that means you are going to tell him…” King Dorephan sighed behind you, before raising his voice to speak directly to you, “Champion, Muzu is most likely at the square down below. Would you mind going down there? I would like you to try and speak to him.”

You nod your head before stepping out of the throne room, looking down at the armor you held in your hands. Curious, you pulled it on, slipping it over your head and fitting the arm bands and gloves correctly. Miraculously, it fits you perfectly.

‘It’s almost like Mipha made this… for me?’

Getting back down to the plaza below, you could see Sidon and Muzu standing before the statue of Mipha, stuck in a tense argument. Stepping up to the two of them, you cleared your throat to catch their attention. Sidon quickly stopped what he was saying to look down at you, and it seemed as though the sight of you in the Zora armor had shocked him.

Muzu however was not nearly as impressed. “Hmph. You came all the way here, but it was in vain. I have no desire to speak with you.” he grumbled, not even bothering to look your way as he spoke.

“Listen well, Muzu. There is something you need to know.” Sidon slowly said, in a more serious tone than he normally used, “She who stands here… is the one whom my sister, Mipha, had feelings for. I was only a child then, so I did not know it myself at the time. But it is so. I grew up hearing my father tell stories, some of which were about my sister’s undying love for a Hylian.”

You were staring up at Sidon with wide eyes as he explained. ‘A princess? His sister, in love with me?’

“What?! No,” Muzu protested, and you almost agreed with him this time, “you cannot fool me with such a fanciful lie. Not this Zora! How could Lady Mipha possibly have feelings for a Hylian like her?! The facts are clear. She remembers nothing. Even when she looks upon Princess Mipha’s statue.”

“It is the truth, Muzu,” Sidon argued, “Though you never knew it, she was ever in Mipha’s heart.”

You gazed up at the statue of Mipha as Sidon spoke, his words growing somewhat distant as you focused less and less on the conversation. This time when you looked at the statue, something clicked in your mind, as if pieces of a puzzle were finally fitting together. Suddenly Mipha’s face looked more familiar than before.

A spark lit in your thoughts, and you were pulled from the moment at hand when a memory came to the forefront of your mind…

~~~ <> ~~~

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#botw #breath of the wild #totk #tears of the kingdom #loz #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #female reader #prince sidon #prince sidon x reader #sidon x reader

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