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kariachi · 3 months

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Oh, hey, fic for that one First Pass AU, the one with the southern hold that still hasn't gotten a name. Some Mari, some Sean, some talk of new discoveries, life events, and future plans.

Warning: Miscarriages and abortion are part of things, so...

“Oh, you should tell your riders,” Mari said at the ass-end of a discussion about the STD rate- ‘we got rid of all diseases’ her ass- “according to Monie a long jump Between seems to end pregnancies.” Across the small table, looking out over the growing Holding, Sean blinked slow.

“Well, if anybody was going to find that out it would be her,” he eventually said in what had to be his politest comment about the woman in ages. With furrowed brow he turned away from the scenery and leveled a curious frown at her. “You lot have been taking long jumps too?”

“Sometimes,” Mari said with a shrug, “I haven’t experienced one myself but sometimes if they’re running late or it’s very urgent the whers take a bit longer Between.”

“Same with the dragons,” Sean said, nodding. For a moment he rested his elbows on the table so he could lean in close, always enthused by his favorite topic, before a raised brow got them put away. “We think it might be related to stress. The dragons don’t seem worried, but if their riders are… We haven’t been able to get a measurement, but I’d swear it takes forever.”

“Well,” Mari raised her mug of klah in a toast, “I’m just glad to have found out it’s a thing before I was in a rush to get somewhere.” The bronzerider laughed.

“Yeah, I shit myself stupid the first time, when those seconds went on too long. We’d got to Fort just in time and were still late ‘cause I had to go back and change pants.” Mari burst out into echoing guffaws of laughter that Sean took like a champion, with nothing more than what he would swear wasn’t a pout. Politely, he waited for her to pull herself back together before speaking again. “Is she sure it’s the Betweening? Spontaneous miscarriages do happen.” With a long sip of klah, Mari nodded.

“She’s fairly sure. If it wasn’t the long jump then the timing was an amazing coincidence. Of course her one experience isn’t surefire evidence, but it’s something to keep in mind. I was thinking of seeing if I could work out the exact cause of the long jumps, make sure we can do them safely-”

“And if anyone could figure that out it’s you,” Sean said with a smile she gladly returned.

“-it would take a long time, but if we know how to do that then anybody who wants an abortion can give it a shot and we can see if we can find any correlation.”

“It’ll be handy for you lot out here.” He took a sip from his own mug, frowned at the dregs remaining, and poured himself another serving. “I’ll be honest, how things are going up north I won’t be surprised if we lose the concept of non-emergency abortions within the next few generations.” Snorting, Mari shook her head.

“Oh, don’t worry, as long as there’s pregnancies there’ll be ways to end them. I just think this might serve as an easy and safe way to get the job done.” Sean nodded.

“Thread falls less and lighter in the rainy season, I’ll gladly send some riders over during the lulls to help with the research.” His lips quirked down for a moment as his eyes unfocused. When he blinked back to present company he looked sheepish. “Sorka wants to know if Monett is doing alright.” With another small snort, Mari gave a smaller smile.

“She’s doing fine,” she said, “mostly huffy and indignant that something would dare to happen to her body without her input.” Sean gave the nod of someone who had seen her indignant before and was really just especially glad to not be in her vicinity now. “If anything, the whers and I’ve been taking it worse than her,” she admitted, hiding her words behind another sip, “I had first dibs on that baby.”

Somehow looking even more sheepish, Sean cringed and awkwardly reached out to pat her shoulder. Carenath gave a small keen outside in solidarity.

“We’re sorry,” he said, “we know you’ve wanted one.” Her smile widened a tad.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, “it’s been a bit since it happened, and I’ve got a whole community behind me.” Sean nodded.

“And us.” He smiled at her, this time with clear extra effort, and pulled back to his mug. There was quiet between them as Mari finished and refilled her own. “So… Do you think you’ll need a spread to ranks to work with, or could we maybe just send what we can spare when?” Chuckling quietly at the topic change, Mari settled back in her seat.

“I don’t think rank matters- blues and golds seem to do it the same, at least with the whers- but I’d feel more comfortable if you’d send over more experienced pairs. For now, at least, I want the security of people with strong Betweening knowledge rather than people still figuring it out.”

“Of course,” Sean said, nodding and just stopping himself from leaning his elbows on the table again, “we can’t take that many risks. Uhth and his maybe? They’re from an early clutch, good heads on their shoulders.” Humming consideration, eyes at the ceiling in thought, Mari nodded.

“Only if you send Katle and her blue along with them.” Sean’s face scrunched.

“Those two are flighty messes.”

“Manners, Sean Co-” Mari caught herself, eyes wide.

“You’re spending too much time with Monett,” Sean said, beaming.

“I’m spending too much time with Monie,” she agreed, then shook her head. “Katle and Aisha pine something horrible if left apart.” While the smile didn’t completely vanish, the scrunching did return to Sean’s face as he leaned back in his wicker seat.

“Since when?” Dropping her chin, Mari looked at him like he was a moron, lips quirked up as she shook her head with a chuckle.

“Since forever, Sean, learn your bloody riders-”

#fanfic #first pass au

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lovesickeros · 9 months

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☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.