#market of vesuvia

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: Learning (love) Languages

Julian -

Does not know where to begin when it comes to gifts. Does he want to give you something? Yes! Does he want to give you something thoughtful, based off of your preferences and interests? Of course!

Does all that go out the window when he sees something he thinks you could use? Unfortunately, also yes. You asked him to pick up a nice snack from the market, and he came back with cough drops. He is very sorry and will happily be the snack instead, if it's to your taste

Asra -

Doesn't struggle to speak their own love languages as much as to accept yours. Nothing scares him quite like being important to you - or knowing that it's safe to acknowledge your importance to him.

All five love languages roll off of them in waves when it comes to you, but as soon as you reciprocate - with a hug, or a favor, or a compliment, or a gift, or some time with him - he fidgets and blushes wide-eyed from the attention. Maybe it's your turn to teach them

Nadia -

On the surface, service makes sense. It's a nice way to show you that she notices enough to do something for you. But logically, doesn't it make even more sense to have someone better at it do it for her?

It's not until you need help finishing some packing after everyone's gone to bed that she actually decides to help you herself, and goodness, the maids make it look so easy! The unexpected fondness you show her, tired and frustrated and bewildered, is totally worth it

Muriel -

You'd think touch would be the hardest for him, but it's nothing compared to his difficulty with words. Before he met you he barely spoke at all and it was only to say something like "go away."

You have no idea what kind of poetry he sees in every tiny detail of you now, from the texture of your wet hair to the edges of your fingernails. Every day he finds a new thing about you he admires, but he's so out of practice that all he can come up with is "you look nice"

Portia -

Oh she's got this loving thing down - except for the part that requires empty spaces in her schedule. Not being productive when she could be busy brings her a kind of guilt she's still learning to snap out of.

If you're the one to initiate quality time, she can mentally hack her way out of the guilt by seeing it as her being a good partner to you. If she suggests a lazy afternoon in, though, be prepared to convince her not to start doing random house chores every fifteen minutes

Lucio -

Don't get him wrong, he's plenty used to touch. What he's not used to is someone wanting it outside of a one-night-stand context - especially when it's someone who knows what his hands have done

He'll seek out your touch when he needs comfort, but the first few times you could really use a hug, you can see him practically blue screen when you ask him to hold you. He'll do it because he loves you, but he didn't think to - oh wow - hey, this is kind of nice -

[taduki]

M6 w/ on MC’s birthday

Happy belated birthday 2 me and @iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia!! Thank you for the help with my writer’s block too.. 🥺 Written using voice recognition, my fingies hurt…

Asra

Will never forget your birthday. Always wants to go all out for you. They get so excited decorating the place for you, they try really hard to hide it from you but always fail. Oh, and get ready for streamers EVERYWHERE. On the floor, on the walls, streamed across the ceilings, and probably in their hair too if I’m being honest…

It’s up to you if you want them to bake you a cake or not. Selasi is always prepared to make one if anything goes wrong. If anything, he already has the cake batter prepared each year…… Asra is quite experienced in baking anyway. What’s the better than baking you a surprise cake? Baking one with you! Azz just wants to be close to you on these special days and has little to no problem if you want to join him in preparations. They wanted to be able to serve you in this way, but they’ll toss it aside if it means they get to hold you while you mix frosting!

As for presents, they definitely overthink it. Should they make something? Should they take you out for dinner? Will it be good enough? Or should they do all of the above? Oh, DEFINITELY all of the above. The entire day is your birthday! (He definitely joked that he was your present at least once, c’mon).

Faust: The Cake Thief™️. You know she’s up to some thievery when you hear a faint, “Ooh, tasty!!”

If you didn’t know any better, you’re skeptical if Asra had some sugar or coffee early in the morning. They were gentle waking you upppp and walking you down the stairssss, but they seem to be literally rattling with excitement…

To tell you the truth, they were making homemade decorations all night after you fell asleep. They slept a little! Just not enough. So they found this “morning tea” stocked in their surprise cabinet, and they just assumed it was like a gentle coffee, and they were SO wrong. It was basically a double shot of espresso, and now they’re trying not to bounce off the walls all morning. When you tell him you guys can do something with that energy, he lights up and skips his merry little way to the musical side of Vesuvia with you to dance it off!

All in all, your birthday celebrations with Azz are very spontaneous and never secluded to just one day. They planned way too many things to fit all in one!

Julian

No! Nobody had to remind him what day your birthday is! …. Oh GOD he needs a notepad STAT.

Okay, actually he did remember. As soon as you told him what day it was months in advance, he wrote it down! …. Somewhere…….. He ended up forgetting about it surprisingly close to your birthday, but luckily for the both of you, Jules can’t keep his mouth shut, and the entire South End remembers your birthday and the plans.

The poor guy drives himself a little nuts trying to get everything in order, especially with so many people wanting to help. Like, just when he thinks he’s done, someone brings up something else he told them and he’s like “Why would I say that??”

The day is planned as such: First, a casual picnic breakfast by the docks together. Then, a nice walk around Vesuvia and maybe some undercover window shopping at the Red Market. Once he thinks you’re in need of a little rest, he tells you he’s got this truly amazing nap spot…. Yes, it’s the up in the theater rafters. He’s basically got a nest up there, real nest in the corner courtesy of Malak.

Malak brings his present before Julian gives you his. 💀 He gave it to you after Julian left you to take a nap. It was a stolen earring, of course… You made a mental note to return it to its owner once you had time.

Julian uses your nap as a means to prepare the stage for his short play. Since he kinda forgot a couple days before, he really wants to get this right for you and freaks out when he sees you peering at him from the rafters in the middle of setting the stage. He scrambles up to you and mumbles a bunch of different stuff about “Please go back to sleep”, “I’m sorry I’m so frazzled — I just wanted to dazzle you”, and “Wow, I should write that one down.”

You tell him you really don’t mind and he doesn’t have to stress so much about a day that you’re both supposed to enjoy, honest. It takes a bit more reassurance, but he caves in to the treacherous healthy habits and hugs you. He’ll still try to salvage your surprise though, and he asks you to chill out up there for a little longer.

As it turns out, he had a whole short play planned out for you! He had a couple of friends who owed him a favor or two and he performed a short and sweet show just for you !! He booked the stage for the bit and sat with you for the next show after his performance.

At the end of the night, Julian handed you this small, twine-wrapped parcel. He nudged you to go ahead and open it with a tired smile. When you opened it, it was a single earring. He explained he must’ve dropped the other one somewhere backstage and didn’t want to disturb the stage technicians for the moment, so you brought upon god’s wishes and showed him the other earring to his pleasant surprise. You told him Malak took it, and Julian just did nothing but smile and look at you, lovingly. He didn’t have to tell you happy birthday.

Portia

Ohhh, she remembers every year. She’s one of those gals that prepare a party like a month in advance.

She is VERY good at hiding the preparations. She is the gaslight gatekeep girlboss of birthday parties. She actually talked about it a lot with her friends and acquaintances! … and ended up hosting a potluck for your birthday. Everyone was just so excited! They couldn’t help it! Now, Portia doesn’t have to decide on a menu because it seems like every food you could possibly think of is laid out on the dozens of tables.

For the most part, Portia set up a simple, traditional birthday party surprise. The day started with you two going out to the market for some frivolous spending. She keeps a really good eye out for things you take a liking to and also finds a super cute new outfit for you to wear for the day! You tell her you didn’t have any big plans for the evening though, and Miss Girlboss just tells you she likes it when you dress up and winks. You know the wink.

Now, she has to keep you busy for a little longer without tiring you out too much so her friends have time to set everything up. So, she takes you on a little street food stall date where you guys try unusual flavors of jalebi and bara — where you try a couple jalebi with voice-switching syrup and try to make each other laugh the rest of the trip.

She didn’t actually have an idea when her friends would be done, so she was really risking it all, taking you back to the cottage. It’s not like you could tell, though. Her confidence was impenetrable on the walk home, and her intuition served her well because you two showed up just in time.

She covers your eyes before you walk into the clearing andddd SURPRISE !!! There are people here !!

She has to hold back from hugging and loving you up the entire time you walk around to explore. There are activities you would find at festivals here like apple bobbing and craft-making, along with the excessively long food stands, of course. It’s a very social event, so she’ll understand if you want to get away from the buzz most of the time, but she’ll still want to come with you! She values the quiet time.

The party itself goes on into the later hours of the night and the dancing just gets crazier and crazier. (Portia likes to be twirled). It doesn’t go into the early morning since some of Portia’s friends brought their children, but you say goodbye and thanks to everyone as they leave and you feel your body crumpling a little as the last few people go. With a lazy, goofy smile on your faces, you both leave the cleaning for the morning and crawl into bed together while Portia gives you one last mustered, “Happy birthday, MC…”

Nadia

Obviously, she goes all out every year for you! Banquet? Vacation? Party? Honey, she’s got it covered months in advance. All complete with a super tall cake you could swear was designed for a wedding and anything you could possibly ask for, honestly.

If there was ever a year Nadia forgot your birthday, she would’ve had to have been SWAMPED with work and burnt out to the point of forgetting days or even months. The last thing she could’ve imagined was forgetting such an important day, and she assumed she would be reminded by an advisor or just being brought up mid-conversation, but she was reminded by YOU. OF YOUR OWN BIRTHDAY.

It’s literally the five stages of grief for her, and she’s in denial until she checks her calendar and remembers the dates leading up to today.

She throws her arms around you in a tight hug and apologizes deeply and repeatedly. She tells you of all the things she had planned as if she doesn’t have the power to set aside all her duties for the day just for you. She’s aware of this of course, but she feels so guilty for forgetting… When the palace servants and advisors realized she’d forgotten, they went into a frenzy, asking her if she’d like them to have preparations done as quickly as possible. It’s up to you if you try to stop her.

If you allow her to go through with the emergency preparations, she’ll feel a little more relief that she can still pamper you. She’ll line the dining table with your favorite foods and at the end of the meal, you’ll have a — Nadia’s definition of— modest sized birthday cake, gorgeously decorated with edible flowers and tasty treats. Every servant working that day was paid extra for the trouble. Honestly, Nadia probably prepped the rest of the WEEK for you on the same day.

If you opt to stop Nadi in her tracks and explain you really didn’t want anything too big anyway, she’ll be gracefully surprised and a little disappointed in herself. She has the resources to treat you and your refusal feels like you’re disappointed in her too! But she understands and asks you what you really wanted for your birthday after assuring you she can give you the world.

And so Nadia allows you to have a modest birthday… on her yacht. She couldn’t help it !! Your skin glows in the sunlight and you look cute in a big floppy hat! She packed some fancy snacks, supplies for things you’d like to do on the yacht and beach, and a cute bakery-sized cake with “Happy Birthday, My Love” written on it in cursive. She will insist on feeding you if you’d like, like always. She wants to do anything you want to do today! And I mean anything, alright…

Muriel

One of Muriel’s bad habits included not keeping track of the days. The only times they really mattered were when seasons changed. Slush on the forest floor meant it was time for him to stock up on food and wood. Smells like a rainstorm? He’s gotta get those holes in the roof patched up before dusk.

But NOooOooOoo, you just had to show up and show him life is beautiful! Disastrous for the poor guy, truly. Now, he goes to bed thinking about nice things that happened during the day like how sleepy your face looked during breakfast or how cute you looked carrying that basket of herbs.

The point is, he knows how important birthdays are to people, (He’s learned his lesson from the “Asra-stravaganzas”), and he wants to make the day special for you too! So, he double checks with Asra a couple times just to make sure he’s got the day right. His preparations include: pancakes, flower garlands, and a mental list of embarrassing things he wants to say to you (literally just romantic stuff like I’ll love you always).

He’s surprised he’s actually kind of excited — or is this nervousness? You’ve always told him those two are hard to differentiate between…

When the day comes, he wakes up first as usual and goes about his daily routine. The only thing that changes is that he regrets not practicing how to make pancakes in advance… Not to worry! He read up on it before and knows exactly which ingredients to use and what to do. Thank goodness it actually comes out properly and just in time for you to wake up. He’s never been so excited to tell someone “Happy Birthday…”

As for his present, he realized he dug himself a hole because he regularly gifts you things. Some things that require a lot of time! He probably gifts you a handcrafted wooden figurine every month because it was simply his go-to, but now he’s gotta step out of his comfort zone. So, what does he do? He makes another wooden craft. Except it’s not a figurine, it’s a 3D model of your name with stories of the adventures you’ve gone on carved into the letters. You spend a good part of the day tracing your fingers over them and reminiscing with him (while trying to rearrange the letters to spell other words).

He takes you on a late picnic so you can watch the sun set and the stars fade into the sky, and if you fall asleep, he’ll carry you home and tuck you in.

Lucio

Surprisingly (sorry, Lucy), Lucio remembers your birthday and anticipates it for like a month before the actual day! Lucio’s birthdays were big excuses for throwing extravagant, luxurious parties and what better to do than throw you one?

Obviously doesn’t have the resources anymore to give you the type of party he always threw, so he starts thinking, and then worrying. He figured this would be the last thing he’d ever worry about. Just a couple of drinks, some music, and a cake, right? Except now, he wants the best for you, regardless of luxuries, which means he has to be willing to do what you want. What DO you want??

Aaaaand that question opened up a can of worms. What if you want to spend your birthday without him? Maybe with Asra? That guy is annoying, for sure, but they DID bring you back to life after he killed you. They’re basically your family. But you’re also HIS family… right?

The days keep going by and he tries not to think too hard about it, being his happy-go-lucky self, picking up a bottle of something or two, but every other purchase in your spirit urks him. It’s a miracle he gets to sleep the night before your birthday.

He gently wakes you up with a little ache in his heart and kisses you out of bed. You two have the whole day for yourselves !! Now you get to do what you want to do today as Lucio is secretly clenching his heart that it involves him.

As soon as you say you wanna do something with him, he crumbles and clings onto you and lets all the troubles flow out of his mouth. He was so worried. He loves you so much, he wanted to spend today with you more than anything. He saved his money for the occasion, and he’ll take you wherever you want to go. Hell, he doesn’t care if you wanna celebrate the whole week! As long as you’re with him…

(Feel free to make fun of him, just a little. He’ll allow it, but he’ll grumble and huff about it all day, all week how, “This counts as your ONLY birthday present, MC! You’re not getting anything else!”)

You end up going a couple of places he suggested like a diner that overlooks the marketplace and going to see a “very overrated showing” at the theater, as he claims. (He ended up just watching you laugh half the time). As for your present, he gifts you a shiny box that Mercedes steals immediately after he takes it out and proceeds to throw it around with Melchior. Lucio is definitely humbled by how worried like hell he was about how expensive the contents were. Once he’s worn out and ready to give up, Mercedes just walks up to you, sets it on your lap, and plops beside you for belly rubs. It was a custom made silver bracelet with two wolves chasing each other around it. Lucio and Melchior plop down on your other side and Lucio tells you one last, exhaustive, “Happy birthdayyyy!”

[greyspirehollow]

We lock eyes again [Request]

Pairing : Quaestor Valdemar x Reader

Fandom : The Arcana visual novel

Warnings : none

Summary : You do not remember how long it took you to finally find a suitable host for your soul, and go on a quest to find your long lost anchor to the mortal world ; the one who your thoughts inevitably converged towards, stubbornly holding you back from crossing the threshold of the afterlife.

It had been centuries. It had been too long. You'd lived many ages : through the eyes of the salmon, deer, and wolf. You would see it in your dreams ; the time you spent in limbo, waiting, patiently...Although, when you awoke, these dreams didn't make sense anymore ; only leaving behind a lingering sense of longing, a feeling that you had to find... What did you have to find? You couldn't put your finger on it...

You sighed, sitting up in your bed and stretching. Another one of those dreams... But you didn't have time to reflect upon them, today. Asra wanted to introduce you to the court of Vesuvia, as a sort of starting point to your journey as a magician's apprentice. You feel as if you've done this before. You got up, yawning, and rummaging through your wardrobe to find something decent to wear. Once you had your outfit all sorted, you decided to add a twinkle of jewelry, just to make it all a little less dull. You had heard about this kingdom's history : struck by a terrible plague that had decimated thousands, sacrifices, memory loss... It was all a bit confusing, so you had only paid attention to the plague bit. Asra eventually knocked on your door "Are you ready?" ; you quickly adjusted your attire before hurrying out of your room "yes! I... Do I look ok? is it not... a little too much?" the magician smiled, looking at you fondly "you look perfect. Now, let's go ; we shouldn't keep the Countess waiting." You followed, walking through the sunlit and busy streets of the kingdom, looking around with delight. You had not left the shop much when you had gotten here, and the lively markets, the colors, and the people actually did you some good (to your surprise).

Your eyes widened slightly as you and your master arrived at the Palace's gates ; you looked up at the shiny architecture with sparkles in your eyes. What snapped you out of it was the voice of the guards demanding you introduce yourselves. Luckily, the Countess had seemingly told them about you and Asra's arrival, as the guards let you pass after having heard the magician's name. You then advanced past the gates, still awestruck. You felt as if the sun was illuminating the Palace in a magical hue, and the more you approached, the faster your heart thumped in your chest. It wasn't just the Palace's glory : you had a feeling. Something that made you apprehensive yet eager to go inside. You felt as if you knew something, but at the same time it was missing ; you had to go in the Palace, but you couldn't figure out why ; it tugged at your heart, pumping adrenaline into your veins, as if strings were drawing you towards the place... However, you kept this to yourself, and quietly followed Asra as you both made your way towards the throne room. Now that you thought about it, you didn't see anyone guide you towards there, and you suspected Asra had come to the Palace before.

However, no one was sitting on the throne. You raised a curious eyebrow, but before you could utter a word, your master uttered a little "ooh" of realization, before saying : "She must be in the drawing room. I wouldn't be surprised if she wished to introduce you to the courtiers as well." You nodded. That made some sense ; even though you were slightly disappointed : you would've loved to meet the Countess in a more private setting. You followed Asra nonetheless. A few turns later, you both found yourselves in said drawing room. The Countess was elegantly sitting in a one-person sofa, while she conversed with five figures, which the diversity of... Struck you, to say the least. Despite your unease, you followed Asra inside, as the magician bowed to the woman whose purple hair draped over her shoulders with shocking delicacy. "Countess Nadia" ; you bowed as well. She smiled "Ah, Asra. And you are..?" she asked, looking at you with a soft yet undeniably authoritative gaze. You managed to stutter out your name, giving her a short bow of the head. "I am glad you two were able to join us for tea. Please, be my guests ; make yourselves comfortable. I will have a cup made for you this instant. Portia?" She called out to a servant, whispering to her something before the young lady hurried out the drawing room, to presumably go fetch the tea.

It is then that Countess Nadia gestured to the other people in the drawing room. So they were the courtiers, you thought, as she went over each of them, your gaze following accordingly. Procurator Volta. Consul Valerius. Praetor Vlastomil. Pontifex Vulgora. Quaestor-

You let out a soft gasp ; no one heard you. Your eyes widened as they locked with their red own. Suddenly, everything made sense. This is why you were here. This is who you had been seeking. The dreams connected themselves, perfectly falling into place at this exact moment. You remembered it all now, the limbo, your adventures from body to body, your struggle and ghostly tears, the longing, the waiting, all that for this person right there, sitting on this sofa amongst the others...

Valdemar.

They looked surprised as well, their eyes never leaving your own, as they seemed to be deep in thought. The conversation around you faded, your whole attention focused onto them. The memory flooded back in your mind, nearly playing out in front of you...

The little cottage. The lingering scent of herbs and wood in the air. The shelves with dried plants, stuffed birds and other animals, skulls they had found on their trips to the forest... And Valdemar themselves. They excitedly opened their journal on the desk, signing you to sit next to them enthusiastically. "Here ! -they said- I've found something ! I think you're going to like it..." You smiled and chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you managed to capture a frog" They snorted at your reply "I'm past that. No, look... I've managed to make an antidote with snake venom ! I just diluted it, added some... ah, I forgot the plant's name- it's all in my notes, look" they were smiling widely as you approached, standing mere millimeters away from them, your hand brushing against theirs as you flipped through their research journal. It smelled peculiar, it always did : a mix of something like oak and leather, with a hint of vegetation. "It's impressive..." you nodded as your eyes squinted slightly, having a hard time reading certain words because of their highly cursive and optimized handwriting. Valdemar looked at you expectantly. "It is brilliant" you finally said, looking back at them. Your heart skipped a bit at that precious smile of theirs, which pushed their freckles-adorned cheeks. Oh, how you'd kill to pamper those in kisses... "why, I'm quite proud of myself" they said, looking back at the pages. However, their grin faltered slightly "...but what if... what if all this disappears? what then?" your heart ached slightly. You knew how important their researches and breakthroughs were to them. You didn't resist this time : you wrapped their arms around them "do not fret. Your knowledge will not be lost." you spoke softly, hoping to soothe their worries, even temporarily. "...You're right... It and I will live on forever..." They say after a few beats of silence, embracing you back. You smiled, content to see them somewhat reassured.

With that, the memory faded. Your throat tightened and you had to excuse yourself. Your eyes hadn't left Valdemar's for all this time. You made your way to the bathroom, closing the door, but not locking it. You took in a quivering breath, the tears coming to your eyes despite your best attempts at holding them back. Tears of joy...

After a while, someone softly knocked on the door, but before you could get a chance to answer, the door opened, revealing the Quaestor. They stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind them without a sound, and pulling down their mask. As they set eyes on you, their expression softened somewhat. You sniffled, quickly wiping your tears away. You were about to say something, but suddenly stopped yourself. No. You didn't need to talk.

You looked at them... They had changed... You were unfamiliar with this lab-coat, those supposed horns wrapped in bandages, and this sickly green skin... But you'd recognize that thin nose and those thin lips, those freckles and those wide, curious eyes, even if they had turned red, anywhere. You had to bite back both your tears and a smile, as you felt them examine you. They took a step or two towards you and carefully lifted your hands into their own, as if to take a closer look at them. They were... Confused. And a foreign feeling tugged at their heart. They didn't know what it was. They just knew it was... Human. Which only confused them further. Scared them, even, although they wouldn't admit it.

Your eyes.

Your soft hands ; their thumb brushed onto the back of them.

Why do you feel so familiar?

This specific accent they heard when you greeted the Countess earlier.

Your warmth.

It's all so familiar...

Who are you?

Why can't they remember?

They remember someone, they can't say who. They remember them like an essence. A feeling. Nothing concrete. They don't remember their face or their voice but they know how they felt around them. They know they talked to them, even if they don't remember the words they said. It's all blurry. It feels like a dream...

Had it been too long? Did their deals make them forget? Why did you trigger their pseudo-memories of that someone?

They don't remember...

Their brows furrowed as despite their best attempts, the answer just wouldn't come back to them. Their grip on your hands tightened slightly.

But you do. You remember now. You can't help a soft smile from tugging at your lips as you look at them fondly. They haven't changed one bit... Factually, they did. But to you ? They were still the same. Deep down, they were still your sweet alchemist. You had missed their voice... You had changed as well, beyond recognition. You were aware of that. Those tedious years you spent in limbo had carried you into body after body, having to live as a wild animal once or twice as to not disappear... You wouldn't tell. Even if your soul was the same. They would either recognize you, or they wouldn't, and you were perfectly fine with both. Your alchemist... They were there, in the flesh. You had to hold back your tears of joy, yet again.

Valdemar sighed, briefly closing their eyes. "...I do not know who you are -they started-, nor do I know where you come from" your heart tickled in your ribs. They locked eyes with you again. "... But I feel as if I am happy to see you again". You nearly lost it, briefly closing your eyes and tilting your head down as to not burst in tears "strange, -you started- I feel the same about you" you chuckled. "Maybe... Forces we don't know of are into play?" you looked back up at them. They didn't seem to like that idea too much "I hope not... I would rather know who is playing with me like that" their tone held nothing negative. You couldn't help but chuckle again "w-well..." you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice from shaking too much "Whether it is planned or... conducted by something in some way... I don't think this is too bad, eh?" you tentatively asked. They seemed to turn the thought into their head, their red eyes briefly flickering to your hands.

"...I suppose not."

You nodded, fighting for your life tears to not roll down your cheeks. You knew it made you look somewhat suspicious, but if they'd noticed, they didn't comment on it.

"...Say, -they spoke once more- what do you think after... the end of your meeting with the Countess, we spend some time in the library? I feel as if... We have... uhm... Something to catch up on." oh Gods, they absolutely hated when things were blurry and inexplicable. You nodded, practically beaming "I-I would love to." you said, once more looking at your hands in their own.

You both exited the bathroom, hand in hand. You softly let go once you had come back around the drawing room, and Valdemar did the same. However, they sat down next to you. While you joined the conversation between Nadia and Asra, their eyes never left your hand resting on the sofa, withing reach, and once more endless questions tossed and turned in their head... But it looks like the mystery of you was going to stay unsolved...

[teeth-farie]

Honeycomb

Muriel/GN Reader

Notes: trans muriel, lingerie, fingering, feminization, roleplay, cheesy housewife novels, 3k words

☞. . . Hey! It’s been a while! This is based on me and my friends headcanon about muriel liking those cheesy housewife novels

Moving in with Muriel was easy enough, you had been together on the hunt for a year, after all. The two of you had long surpassed any discomforts that new couples would face while adjusting in each other's spaces. You found it easy to fall into his orbit, melding together in peaceful harmony.

But one thing you didn’t expect, however, was Muriel’s lack of…everything in his home. Yes, you anticipated it somewhat, but there was nothing to occupy his time or his mind other than work, nothing for him to relax other than a single, woodcarving chisel. There needed to be more, you needed him to have the necessities of life. 

So you started bringing home books. Simple, short novels from the shop that would give him a little more wonder to his day. But not many Vesuvians knew how to read, and the thought that you gifted something that he couldn’t use made you panic–but as he picked up the small volume and flicked through, feeling the texture of the pages and taking in the summaries, you felt your anxiety quell. You think that Asra must have taught him when they were young, and the thought of the two pointing to words in a too-large tome has you smiling. 

“Thank you,” Muriel breathed, a fascination in his eyes at your gifts, small and lovingly worn in his hands. When was the last time he had gotten a chance to read? A long time. Too long.

He had finished the book in a day.

It was hard to pull him away from it. Many times you caught him flipping the book back open, making his way through chapter by chapter. Nothing could pull him away; he’d use one hand to hold it open while brushing Inanna or stirring stew in the hearth, and it was a miracle that he didn’t try to take the book with him while tending to the chickens. 

Muriel finished it during dinner, his attention focused on the page as he spooned hearty stew into his mouth across from you. It was a short book, only about one hundred pages, but it filled him with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. 

“Was it good?” You asked, smiling around your spoon, finally catching his attention. He flushed, sheepish as he nodded. “Yeah, I liked it.”

 “I’m so glad! Why don't you tell me about it?” 

Unfortunately, you had only so many books, and Muriel had begun to get picky with his findings. He liked reading fairytales and poetry, he liked mystical adventures with beautiful creatures, and you only had so much. 

So you took him to the market in search for more, sifting through dusted novels and doggy-eared journals for something he’d enjoy. And enjoy he did, walking back home with you with the smallest smile on his face, a new little treasure in his bag. 

Nothing was like seeing the awe on his face when the first official library in Vesuvia opened, and while he didn’t attend the grand opening (far too many loud people, he had said), he went frequently thereafter, making unintentional friends with the librarians and allowing himself to bask in the light of the large windows. 

You kept an eye out for new literature while you were out likewise, searching through the selections to find something new.

And it was meant as a joke, really. You meant it to be a funny gag gift when you brought home a novel with a hand-drawn cover of a delicate, foresty woman holding onto a well chiseled man. 

Muriel’s face had erupted in red, steam practically shooting from his ears. He grumbled, giving the cover a side eye. You hadn’t thought much of it after that, admittedly, aside from the laughs it gave you. 

You stir awake, turning over on your side. Muriel’s sitting up in the bed, the bedside candle lit and flickering, illuminating his large form delicately. He’s holding a book in his hands, and you hear his breath softly hitch as he flips the page, his hand coming up to his face and his teeth catching on his thumb. You’ve never seen him react like that before when reading.

“Honey?” You call out.

You hear him choke on his breath and he quickly snaps the book shut, pinching the flame out with his fingers.

“Go back to bed.” He says tightly.

“What were you reading-“

Muriel quickly lays back down with his back towards you. “Nothing!” He practically yelps. “Go to sleep!”

You snuggle back up against him and he begins to relax again. How odd. 

Muriel was quiet the morning after that, and while he likes to think he’s sneaky, you know he’s hidden that joke gift book under his pillow. When he steps outside to chop more wood, you take a peek at the book under his pillow. You crack it open to his bookmark, letting your eyes fall on a paragraph. 

“-The impish magician finds the nymph under him, her long legs spread open. She smells like lavender and honey, and he wants to eat her whole. 

“My hero,” she croons, watery, doe like eyes staring up into his. “Treat me gently, I beg of you.”

The magician's hand is in between her legs, fingers pressing into her p-“

Ah. You hadn’t expected this little book to be that graphic. No wonder Muriel had been so shy about it! You look over your shoulder at the window, carefully peering to see him still halving wood. With a grin full of teeth and a mind full of mischievous ideas, you flick through a few more pages.

…

The next following days you put your plan into action.

Admittedly, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him. Fortunately for you, Muriel also seemed to be in a touchy-feely mood, reciprocating the touches and kisses. In the back of your mind, you wonder if that novel had anything to do with his more spontaneous libido as of late. 

Your hands press against his sides, lightly brushing against his ribs and drawing out a breathy little sound that makes you grin against his lips. His mouth is wet and soft against yours, parted as your tongue swipes against his bottom lip. It makes him shiver, his fingers clutching into the knit of your sweater. The hearth is still burning, the low flickering of the fire warming your skin almost as much as the kissing is. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” you breathe out, your teeth catching gently on his lip. Muriel makes a whimpery little sound, and you think about how much more you want to hear it. He hums in curiosity, eyes still lidded when you pull away to fetch a bag from under the bed.

You open up your bag, taking out the linen-wrapped package. “What's that?” He asks, interest peaked as you hand it to him. “Open up and see.”

Muriel looks down at the package in his hands and carefully, like he thought it might bite him, he peels away the covering. The sight inside makes his breath hitch, his skin blooming hotter. 

White and sage lace, silks, all wrapped into each other to form a gorgeous set of lingerie. He feels his hands tremble a bit, and somewhere in the back of his mind says that this feels familiar. 

And then it hits him; this fits the exact description of what the character in the novel wears during one of the scenes in which– oh, oh, Muriel’s face has gotten so very red–

“Like it? I flipped through that book you like so much and thought about doing something special for you.” You rest your hand on his thigh, snapping him away from his flustered focus. He looks at you, biting on his lips. “So what do you say? Wanna put it on, honeycomb?” 

Another piece from the book, an endearing nickname for the forest nymph that has him feeling less than innocent. 

You’re watching him as he pulls off his sweater, inch upon glorious inch of skin exposing, light brown with scars and stretches. He’s gained weight since you’ve both made your peaceful life together, indulging in things he never thought he’d be able to savor. No longer is his skin clinging to muscles. He's soft, squishy over that strong body, and it takes everything in your power not to sink your fingers into his stomach. 

The pants follow next, then his simple underwear, until he’s completely nude in front of you. Vulnerable in all the best ways. He’s biting his lip, gently touching the lingerie in the wrapping. 

“Do you want help?” You offer, meeting his shy gaze. “Mm,” Muriel can only whine, slowly, stiffly nodding his head. “Please,” he tacks on for extra measure, possibly a little less shy than you thought; he knows how hot it gets you when he uses his manners. 

You feel a little shiver in your spine, one of excitement as you grab the panties and twirl them around your finger. “Come on, big boy,” you whistle playfully and your big boy snorts with a roll of his eyes, standing to his feet before the bed where you sit. “Or should I say, little lady?” 

Now that gets you a nice little sound, a stuttery gasp from his kiss-swollen lips. “You like that?” You grin, holding out the leg holes of the panties for him to step into. Muriel grabs onto your shoulders as he does, nodding sheepishly in agreement. “That’s a good girl,” you snap the band around his hips, the sage silks and lace framing his hips and ass snuggly. His hips jerk, already dampening the fabric with his arousal. “So, so pretty. And you’re all for me.” You lean forward, eyes flicking up to his as you press a kiss to his stomach, over the thick happy trail leading into the scrunched elastic of the underwear. 

“Ssstop…” Muriel whimpers, turning his face in embarrassment. 

“You want me to stop? Are you sure?” You fiddle with the bralette you’ve yet to put on him. “Or are you just being shy again?” 

He huffs, face still profoundly red. “Shut up.” He grumbles, though empty of malice. You’ve got your answer, so you hold out the last bit of lingerie for him. Muriel loops the straps over his shoulders, turning around for you to fasten the clasps. You don’t miss how he shivers when your knuckles brush against his spine, or the way his breath catches in his throat when those fingers trail down the length of his back. 

“Turn around, let me see you, honeycomb.” 

Muriel follows your order without a second thought, shuffling to face you. And he looks gorgeous. Green truly is his color, there’s no doubt about that. The bralette hugs his chest, the scalloped-edged cups framing his breasts. Your eyes rake down lower, down his beautiful scarred chest and stomach, thick patches of hair littering the path, all the way down to the hem of his panties. You almost drool at the way his clit bulges against the cloth, swollen and needy. 

“Look at you…” you grab his hips and squeeze, fingers looping under the band of his panties to give them a playful snap. “Back on the bed, hun, come here,”

He crawls into bed after you, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he does. Every shift of his thighs has the heat between his legs growing stronger, a measly friction that makes him feel even more desperate. Muriel’s the one to initiate another kiss, his hands carefully placed on the tops of your thighs. You thread your fingers in his hair, smiling against his lips. You have to use your grip to pull him back to speak, a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. 

“So eager…Lay down, that’s it,” the blankets are soft below his half-naked skin, although failing to warm him quite like your touch. You spread his legs apart, excitement surging through you at the sight of his dampening underwear. 

Teasingly, you run your fingers up the inside of his thigh, up to where he needs you the most. “What was the thing your book talked about? The magician putting his fingers in the nymph’s flower?” 

Muriel chokes on a gasp, hands shooting up to cover his face. “Ugh-”

“Come on, honeycomb, don’t you want that too? You’re already dressed up just like her.” Your thumb rubs over his bulging clit, drawing a whimper from his lips. He nods from behind his hands.

“Ah, Ah, I gotta hear you say it.”

Muriel peeks from behind his fingers. “Don’t make me say it…”

You don’t grant him any reprieve, only giving those just-barely-there rubs of your fingers over his clit. He keens, hips flexing up frustratedly. “Please,” he gasps out, “puh-put your f-fingers in my, inmyflower.” 

“Oh, good girl.” You grin, relishing the shiver that runs through him. He breathes out shakily when you pull his panties aside, fingers spreading him open. You whistle low, sliding your fingers through his folds, slick discharge and arousal gathering on your skin. “Now that’s the prettiest rose I’ve ever seen.” 

Muriel huffs, flustered. You take the time to position your thumb over his clit, rubbing slow circles as you ease a finger into him. His eyes twitch, jaw falling slack at the long-awaited stimulation. “Now that’s a pretty face.” You coo, leaning over to press a kiss against his jaw, teeth teasingly nipping at the skin. “And you’re taking me so well too…” Another finger slid in, two pumping in and out, curled up against the squishy walls of him.

“H-hughh,” his large hand carefully reaches down to where your hand meets his pussy, fingers brushing your wrist. It’s almost like he’s in awe of it, the way you make him feel, the sight of it. His clit sticks out and he can see the way it throbs and twitches when you press your fingers into a good spot. 

You take his hand in yours, the one not currently finger fucking him open, and squeeze it tight. “You’re so romantic, honeycomb.”

His whole body feels hot, like a never-ending fever. You always make him feel all…mushy and soft. You make him feel like he’s special and good, and he whimpers when you lean back up and take a good look at him, embarrassment running deep. But, he doesn’t think it’s a bad kind of embarrassment when it’s you. 

Muriel clenches down on your fingers when you drag them back out, teasing a third against his hole. “How wide do you want me to stretch you tonight, little lady?” You coo down at him, a devilish little thing. 

He swallows, his tongue feeling too thick in his mouth. He’s never been good at saying outright what he wants. “Wide,” he breathes out, thighs trembling while you languidly stroke over his folds. 

“Mm, three fingers?” You slowly slide the three in, savoring his shaking moan, before pulling them back out. Muriel whines at the loss, hips bucking up. 

“Or maybe four? Or did you want my whole hand? I know you can take it, I’ve seen you do it before, honey.” 

The man below you groans, turning his head to hide in the pillows. “You’re teasing me…” you hear him whine, his chest heaving with his worked-up breaths. 

“Oh, I know, I’m just so mean to you, aren’t I?” He spares you a knowing glance and you have the absolute pleasure of watching his jaw fall slack and his eyes roll when your fingers plunge back into him. He’s full with three, toes curling when you spread them. “Ah- ah- ah-,”

You pick up the pace, thumbing his clit with every thrust of your fingers—and oh how he squirms, his thighs tensing and shaking, his stomach crunching and body twisting when you relentlessly fuck his sweet spot. Muriel makes such lovely sounds, gurgled little cries as he tugs at his own hair, still squeezing your hand that he won’t let go.

“That’s it, you’re so close, aren’t you?” He nods curtly, biting back a gasp. 

“Puh-please, please, I-I’m so close, I’m so close–” His hips buck up once, erratic, teeth grinding. The way he speaks is almost a hiss, hushed and strained. The mossy green of his eyes bounce across your face, lips open in a gape, almost frantic. “I-it’s, it's gonna–”

“I know, just let it out, honeycomb,” you lift his hand to your lips, kissing his sweaty knuckles, and that seems to be what sends him over that beautiful crescendo.

 Muriel gasps, strangled, a moan creeping from his scratched throat like gentle hands around his jugular. His body tenses, hips thrusting up–and he squirts, a forceful arc of it spraying from his spasmed core. It paints your stomach, wetting your skin and spitting with each languid thrust of your fingers. “Thaaat’s it, good girl.”

It seems like almost an eternity that he shudders and shakes, his trembling body slowly falling back until he’s boneless against furs and knits. Muriel distantly smells himself when you free your fingers from his cunt, and perhaps he's too worn to be shameful, only crooning softly at the gape. Sweat and cum soaks the hem of his panties, cooling in the settling air. A log from the hearth falls with dimming embers and it becomes clear just how wrapped up in him you’ve been. 

“Thank you.” Muriel breathes out, chest still heaving, glistened with sweat under the lace. Wordlessly, you lean down to kiss him, falling between his legs. He reciprocates eagerly, lips parting for your tongue, a shiver riding up his spine. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the wetness of your stomach pressing against his. Whether he notices or simply doesn't care is up to you, a languid kiss all that matters. 

He’s the one to break the silence after a lifetime of kisses and shared breaths, his arms coming to wrap around your back, his foot nudging your ankle. 

“There’s another scene, after this one.” 

You grin, bottom lip caught between your teeth. He blushes brilliantly, but the proposal is still there, up to you to grab. 

“Enlighten me then, honeycomb.” 

[paperstarwriters]

Hello hope your day is amazing

I was wondering if you could write a Muriel x florist reader where when Muriel is making his once in awhile trip into vesuvia he goes past the readers shop and she gives him tulips because he looks sad and he takes them but after he's gone they forget him obv but the next time he comes into town it happens again and again until he finally gives the reader myrrh and then they remember all those times and get really embarrassed

My first request!!! Wow!!! Now technically I haven’t had any explicit availability on requests because of classes but, well I may just open them up now! (Of course though not all requests will end up this long 😅)

Also, I just wanna mention, that when I first got this request my day had been a little bit of a mess but this certainly brightened it thanks so much!! 💕💕💕💕

By the way, Anon, I am SO sorry I took so long to write this. It ended up getting really long and then I ended up deleting everything and rewriting everything because I thought it could’ve been better lol—Not an excuse, but I kinda wanna be transparent about these things because it helps me acknowledge that no, I did not magically make a perfect fanfic on my first go, and other authors do not make perfect fanfics in one go.

Also I understand that this has since been requested to someone else now too because I was taking so long, and I really don’t mind, though I feel kinda bad to have been so slow. Unfortunately life just tends to interfere and all that.

Anyways,

A Flower a Day Keeps The Lonely At Bay

Pairing: Muriel x Flowershop!Reader

Warnings: Lack of communication (ie. Muriel being shy), awful & rich customers, who pay the cops to chase you down, Reader also Swears.   Summary: A flower a day keeps the lonely at bay, but two to three more, and I’m here at your door, ever waiting, ever waiting, never sure never sure.

Muriel finds himself making visits outside of his hut a little more frequently than usual, accumulating a small bouquet of flowers made larger by a few flowers at a time with every trip he makes to the market.

The only issue is, he hasn’t exactly paid for these.

Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist

Word Count: 14, 181

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Muriel watched as red washed down from the coliseum stands.

He should be grateful. The sight should uplift him—should release that tension tied deep in his chest. It should fill his chest with something other than dread.

After all, for once, it wasn’t blood.

Red roses drip down from above, their petals peeling away from the bright blooming flowers, cut in the peak of their beauty fluttering in the wind, catching in the sunlight, and falling onto the hot arena sands, still yellow, still free from blood, now stained with a new shade of red. The audience cheers instead of screams, clapping instead of booing. They throw flowers instead of stones.

All for his opponent.

A foreign fighter from a kingdom not too far away, his opponent bathed with open arms in the rain of flowers and roses, smiling and waving at the people above who cheered and wailed their name in rapt awe and delight.

If he were sitting in the stands, watching the battle from afar, he’s certain he would see how clunky and awkward he had been fighting. Lucio had told him that unlike his usual “criminal” opponents he was not to kill the foreign fighter lest he piss off the other kingdom, and wile he wasn’t sure exactly when Lucio had grown so conscious of other people’s feelings, Muriel had been grateful for the chance not to kill his opponent.

It was naïve of him to assume it was something he could simply stop doing.

With every swing of his massive axe, made to cleave heads from their shoulders, Muriel found himself faltering. With every attack, he wondered if this was the swing that would kill his opponent, if this was the swing that would start a war between kingdoms. His opponent, who had no such qualms, was able to slowly whittle away at his defenses until they knocked him to the sand and pressed a dagger to his throat.

When Muriel was shuffled out of the coliseum to be slotted away into the cold cell they called his room, he watched as the other fighter received a glory he never saw for himself. Armfuls of gifts, boxes of food or sweets, letters sealed with hearts and given with bright grins on their faces, and armfuls upon armfuls of flowers. Sitting in his cell, Muriel watched as his opponent passed by with many servants in tow, all needing to be led by Lucio, as they couldn’t see past the heaps of flowers that crowded their arms.

A flower slipped past someone’s grasp, drifting it’s way into his room. It was rose-like in it’s colour. A deep crimson hue, although the shape of it was a far cry from a rose. He could hope that it was something precious and expensive, from some bouquet of foreign flowers, but Muriel couldn’t help but doubt. Perhaps it was something cheaper, something carelessly held and carelessly dropped into the cell of this careless fighter. Its a thing to be admired regardless, something pretty and colourful to enter his drab cell. He plucks it off of the floor, to cradle it’s delicate petals appreciate the soft, sweet smell of it.

Something sweet something soft, and colourful and kind.

It’s not something that would last very long with him.

Lucio returns past him a few moments later, having led the servants to whatever lavish room he had prepared for the foreigner and their followers. The red flower dropped against the hallway floors catches his eye, and with two golden talons he plucks it from the floor, smiling as he appreciates it’s delicate, feeble beauty. He continues down the hall, not even sparing Muriel a glance, as his footsteps crack against the stone floors.

He’ll throw it away the moment he gets outside perhaps, or maybe even sooner than that. Or maybe, just maybe he’ll get some small little cup and let the flower live just a little longer. It’s doubtful though, considering how easy it would be for someone like him to get more flowers. People gift him things all the time, and whatever he doesn’t receive as a gift, it would be simple for him to purchase himself.

Muriel never received gifts in his life as a gladiator.

After all he’s done, he didn’t deserve them.

He did not deserve flowers.

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Muriel pulled his basket closer towards himself, shifting the strap that attached it to his back to rest more comfortably on his shoulder. Although he initially refused the offer, he’s grateful for Asra’s insistence, and even more grateful for the gift. It’s practical. With it, he can carry so much more materials than he ever had before. Flour, rice, fruits, he can place it all in his basket and leave his hands free to purchase smaller things, like bread or berries or herbs, or whatever else he might need. Most importantly, being able to carry so much at once, Muriel can limit his trips into the market as a once in a month or two journey.

Sure, the basket made him look bigger, only drawing more attention to his broad looming frame, and sure, perhaps it was a bit heavy to carry so much groceries all in one go, but if it meant he’d only have to endure the bustle and crowds of the market less, it was certainly a sacrifice he was willing and ready to make. Even the longer journey the basket imposed on him—since it would not fit into the smaller alleyways—was made more tolerable knowing that he would not have to return for a while.

It’s his saving grace amidst the crush of people yelling and hawking their wares, the inconsiderately placed shops of medicine right beside shops of food where delicious scents make the dizzying medicine smell stronger. The push and shove of impatient customers—all of it is made just a little more tolerable knowing it’d be over soon.

Soon. He assures himself. Just a little further, then I’m out of the market. Just past these next few shops, just a little more…

A blur of bright colours catch his eye. Though it was hardly enough to stop him from walking, he slowed at the sight, unable to help but stare at the little shop squished between and behind a few other stalls. For some other shops perhaps the size would be moderate enough, if only a little squishy to sit inside, but for that shop in particular, it seemed downright tiny, dwarfed by the flowers that seemed to burst from any and every opening it could get, starved for space and sunlight, and with the vivid colours and unruly growth—starved for attention.

He didn’t mean to stop in place, but he couldn’t help but stare at all the pretty flowers before him. Butterflies twitched from where they sat atop flowers, and bees bumbled lazily from flower to flower, all delighted at the sheer variety they had before them to enjoy. Like the many insects around him, Muriel found himself drawn into the little alcove the shop provided, drowned in the flowers and their soft and tender scents.

Setting his basket aside, Muriel let himself breathe. The crush and bustle of the crowds were still there, but a panel from another shop blocked him from their view. An alcove large enough for him to hide him—he never thought he’d find a place like that.

“Hello?”

The voice was by no means loud. It was a far, far cry from anything accusatory or cruel, and yet still, Muriel can’t help the urge to leap up in place and run, the thin branch of flowers reaching over his head, serving as the only thing to stop him from doing so. Careless movement could damage the pretty little things, and even if it would sting, damaging the beauty of something seemingly so abandoned, he’d hate to have to deal with the ire of the shopkeep should he damage their precious merchandise.

—Should he damage your precious merchandise.

Wearing mud-smeared clothing and a pair of gloves, it was clear you were the caregiver of these flowers and therefore, the owner of the shop.

Maybe he should have noticed it sooner—seen the vibrant colours and assumed nothing that bright and big could grow naturally, or maybe he should have looked closer to those openings and noted how clean the curtains of the window—the very one you now leaned out from—were.

“I’m sorry.” he mutters, scrambling to get his things while still taking care not to damage the flowers of your shop.

“No, no. It’s okay,” you tell him, smiling a little as you watch him pick up his basket once more. “You don’t have to go, I’m not gonna kick you out.”

“I’m out of money,” he blurts out in reply.

While technically a lie, there is some semblance of truth in it too. He’s already spent his limit of what he set out to buy today, and he really didn’t want to buy any more, just in case he needed the money for something else more important.

“That’s fine you don’t have to buy anything. It’s a nice place to relax here.”

Muriel nodded, but knowing he’s long since outstayed his welcome, he turns instead, fully ready to leave and let you forget. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to come by this side of the market place again any time soon.

“Hey! Wait!”

Oh no.

What did you want now? Did he break something? He might’ve hit or damaged some of those flowers with the basket, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to accept Asra’s gift. It made it so much harder to not bump into things. Automatically, he reaches for his pockets prepared to out himself for his earlier lie rather than have to deal with the accusations and demands for damaging merchandise.

Instead, he finds the flowers still intact, and a new one, bright yellow, and mere inches from his face.

“Here,” you say with a smile as you lean out—nearly tipping yourself out—form your shop’s little window. “Take it. Just a little something to brighten your day.”

It’s a simple little flower, with yellow petals like the sunshine that dappled through your flowers and their leaves.

He hesitates, unsure of whether or not to receive your little gift, what your ulterior motives might be, or what he needed to do for this gift, but you had been insistent, slipping the flower into his half open hand before he has a chance to back out. Satisfied with your gift, you smile with a brightness that matches the flower you’ve given him, warm like spring sunshine.

Despite the abruptness of the gift, he manages a small smile, nodding a little in thanks before he promptly turns to leave and finally be out of the market.

The simple yellow flower, with little else it could go, remained in his hand held to his chest as he weaved in between other market-goers. Listening for the sounds of shouting and screaming that never made it’s way to his ears. It’s not like you would remember. It’s not like you would even know.

Technically speaking, he didn’t have to keep it. Honestly, it’s probably nothing more than a ploy to get him to return and actually buy something from your shop, and it’s not like you’d remember him to ask what he’s done with the flower. Not like he could do anything with it anyways. Unlike Asra’s gift, it’s impractical, and Muriel finds himself wondering what you even expected him to do with it.

His fingers trail along the velveteen petals as he walks, appreciating the faint but pleasant smell that sits at the flower’s center. Whatever beauty he finds in it now is fleeting. It won’t last very long, especially since he has no vase to put it in.

It’s just a flower. He has no obligation to keep it.

It’s not like you would remember anyways.

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Shrugging the basket off his shoulders, Muriel makes quick work of putting away the items he’s bought. The bread flour gets tucked into the bottom shelf of the alcove of food he keeps in the house, and the fruits go in a bowl a little higher than that. Finally the bread is placed and covered in it’s own little box. Inanna runs around him welcoming home as he trundles around setting everything into it’s place, tail wagging like a dog. Even as she jumps up on her hind legs to greet him, she's just as careful as he is not to bump into his table, lest the cup at it’s center fall over and spill the yellow tulip it cradles onto the floor.

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Muriel returned to the market a bitter few days later. The basket had made him eager on his last trip, urging him to get everything done and over with so he wouldn't have to be there long, but he had forgotten that the chicken feed needed some extra restocking with the rain season lurking just around the corner. Muriel wasn't technically responsible for Bok-Bok and her friends. They could easily care for themselves as they, and all other chickens scattered in the forest, have been doing long before he had arrived. As a neighbor who occasionally borrowed eggs, however, Muriel had an obligation to lend a helping hand, and he knew full well how difficult the rainy season made it to find berries and seeds. There were of course plenty of worms, but robins and crows were quick to snatch those things up and some days there was just too much water for even the worms to enjoy. In those moments Bok-Bok and company would really need his help, and he was not about to let them down.

He hauls two bags of chicken feed in his basket, the bite of the straps onto his shoulders almost as bad as the bite of the cost into his limited pouch of coins. Technically he’d only really need one bag, but seeing as chicken feed was edible, Muriel was hoping to use at least some of it for his own meal within the coming days. There’d still be plenty for Bok-Bok and the others, but this would make things easier on him for a while as well.

The feed shifts side to side with every step he takes, the shift in weight feels almost hypnotizing, as he walks. It’s an imperfect distraction from the typical sounds and smells and feeling of the marketplace, but it’s a distraction nonetheless. People continue to press against him, and he feels the grains shift to his left. People continue to chatter and talk, the sound of it layered thickly over the sound of crashes and movement and moving creaky objects, and he feels the grains of the bag shift to his right. That awful smell of medicine entwined with fresh bread and he feels—

“Hey!! You!!”

Muriel freezes in place. When his head snaps to the sound of the scream, the rest of his body is already preparing to run away. And yet, when he sees that familiar face—your familiar face—he finds himself unable to move

For the second time within the few weeks he’s been here, he meets your eyes, and your own grow wide.

As if you recognized him.

Just as quickly it appears, it vanishes and you continue to yell.

“Watch your step!” you yell and point to a little spool of ribbon, sitting just where he would have stepped.

Muriel allows himself to relax, following your gaze downwards, taking a step backwards rather than forwards to find a spool of golden ribbon, lined with green that sat just beneath his feet. He’s about to apologize for almost crushing it when you promptly continue.

“I’m sorry, but yeah could you get that? I don’t want someone to step on it and trip like you almost did”

He nods as he bends over, freezing momentarily to shuck off the basket on his back when he feels the grains of feed slip forward. Taking the little spool in hand, he ducks back into the little alcove where your shop resides and hands it back to you, promptly rewarded with a smile flashed his way.

His face warms at the attention, but he doesn’t find it all too bad.

“Thank you. Oh, and here! As thanks.” You pull from behind you another flower—another tulip. It’s orange this time, tinted yellow around the edges. It’s the colour of a sunset, or his warm fireplace at night—the colour of even warmer smiles.

Although he hesitates, he takes this flower as well, bringing it to his nose to drown out the smell of medicine and food swirling together unpleasantly just a few stalls down.

It works better than the rice of his basket had managed at least.

Muriel manages a nod and soft grunt as thanks, trying to avoid the bright smile on your face as he slings his basket back onto his shoulders and trundles off once more. Another flower held carefully between his fingers.

He knows he doesn’t have to take it or keep it.

He knows he still will anyways.

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Asra visits a day or two later, and grins when Muriel is unable to give them their own cup for tea, especially since it was the one cup they had purchased themself. Still, they grin, and even snicker, as if unaware of the turmoil that brews at his inability to be a good friend and give them what’s theirs. Instead, they only fuel the fire of his anxiety and coyly remark that he should get another cup for whoever had given him his tiny bouquet of flowers.

It’s only then that Muriel realizes he could have, and should have argued back.

He still tries, though he knows it’s too late for that.

“How do you know I didn’t pick them myself?”

“Because you don’t tend to pick flowers for yourself,” Asra replies easily, grinning happy and easy, with that familiar glow of mischief in their eyes. “You should make a vase for them. It’d look nice, I think.”

Muriel can feel his face grow hot as he hesitates to refute Asra’s offer, which only makes their grin grow wider and wider in reply. Eventually he sighs, and though he doesn’t make any direct confirmation or denial, Asra laughs, knowing full well what that sigh entailed.

Despite it all, Muriel found himself smiling too.

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Muriel wanders through the marketplace a mere two days since his last visit. He’s without his basket, as he has been for the last handful of times he’s been there, but the journey is still overbearing. Visiting so often within such a short amount of time was quickly giving him a painful headache, and the temptation to just buy some spiced bread or some other delicious smelling food, to drown out the worst of the busy, busy, world around him, was only trumped by the fact that he did not bring any money with him.

Lately, on his last few trips to the marketplace, he neglected to bring any coins, knowing it’d be better for him to focus on saving up for when he really needed the money. Technically he didn’t need the money that much, being fully capable of living off of the forest, but difficult times such as the upcoming rainy season was made much easier when he could just buy the things he needed. For now, however, he’s simply content to wander through the marketplace and shop for inspiration; his only payment being his time, and the need to be there in the first place.

Carving a vase is easy. It should be easy, compared to the other things he’s carved. it’s a pretty simple wooden thing practically a deeper, wider cup with a little flare at the top like a plate. That was something he could carve, but he recalled seeing other vases around the marketplace, and despite himself, curiosity got the better of him and he stopped by to look at the vases other people had made. He’s been returning pretty often much to his dismay, as he kept on realizing or remembering the design of a vase he had only glimpsed at when he returned to the hut. Not to mention how his initial design might not even work anymore.

With every visit he’s made to the marketplace, he passed by or took shelter by your little flower shop on the way back home, and every time without fail, you called out to him. Even on days where he forgot to try and stop by, where he, fully engrossed in some other thing, or the dizzying feeling of the crowd around him, passed by the shop without a second glance. Even then, you still called out to him, with some excuse or other for you to offer him a flower. Some days he got a single tulip. Other times he’s received up to three different blooms. He gets a different flower each time, and each time he has to add the flower to his rapidly filling makeshift vase. It’s no longer a cup, but a rather sorry chunk of wood with a hole down the middle and water at the bottom. So busy with his visits to the market, he hadn’t had the time to really work on it.

If he was being truthful, he had been trying to avoid the task. What could he carve that could adequately hold such pretty flowers that you’ve given him? It’s the first bouquet he’s ever received, he wants to make something fitting for your gifts.

With how consistently you give him flowers, Muriel can’t help but forget that you don’t even remember him. He can’t help but forget you don’t really even know him. Not in the way that he knows you. Even if he knows you in sporadic fragments, he still knows you more than you know him.

Perhaps it’s made him cocky. Overconfident in his understanding of you.

Perhaps that’s why he didn’t expect to see you like this.

You are the sun, radiant and bright for your flowers, providing them warmth, providing them light before you give them away to others to illuminate their day or the day of whoever is lucky enough to receive that gift.

Somehow, he never anticipated the fact that maybe the sun couldn’t always be shining.

“I AM NOT PAYING THIS MUCH FOR THIS STUPID SHIT!!!”

Eyes shift away from Muriel towards the loud argument of some overzealous self-entitled noble who failed to recognize that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Selfishly, Muriel finds relief at the distraction bathing in how for once, in the crowd he was not the spectacle to be stared at instead it was—

Oh.

You stand under the barrage of cruelty raised against you and smile. It falters, it twists, but you do your best to maintain your smile, to appease your audience, someone who clearly did not deserve your grace.

“With the amount of money you had outlined—”

“YOU ARE LITERALLY JUST PICKING FLOWERS—CHILDREN COULD DO THAT!! WHY SHOULD I PAY SO MUCH FOR SOME DAISES YOU PICKED?!”

The stranger’s hand slammed on the small windowsill that you usually leaned on rattling the worn material below it. Bees and butterflies fled from their refuge in your flowers and even some weaker flowers toppled over under the stress. Even if he could not see it for himself, Muriel could tell you were trembling, every flower that so much as brushed against you vibrated in place, your fear bleeding into them, as you tried your best to smile despite it all.

If not for the flowers, he’d believe it too.

“WERE YOU NOT LISTENING WHEN I TOLD YOU THAT THESE WERE FOR AN IMPORTANT EVENT?!? YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL THAT I’M EVEN BUYING FROM YOUR PATHETIC LITTLE SHOP!!! IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME SOME BETTER FLOWERS I WILL—”

It’s hard to tell what compels him more, the barely restrained discomfort that you radiate, or the bitter anger that only rises with every wretched word that comes out from the noble’s poor excuse for a mouth. If he were a better person, perhaps he’d go to you first, but just like with any fight, it was foolish of him to assume violence was something he could simply stop doing.

It always came back to him one way or another.

He strode, unthinkingly with every intention to just get rid of the unpleasant nobleman. Whether he was going to punch them, shove them aside and away from you, or simply pick them up and throw them into the nearest canal, Muriel would never know, because thankfully the noble was more cowardly than they had seemed.

All it took was for him to stand behind them, his shadow swallowing them whole as he glared them down before they were scrambling backwards and sputtering threats about money and guards. A hard threat to follow through on considering the stranger won’t even remember him the next day.

He’s tempted to follow the noble as they run. Tempted to chase them down and force them to never do it again. To show them how strong they really were in the face of a cruel world. Greedy wretches like them wouldn’t survive a day in the coliseum.

But would he really be able to stomach dragging them there?

Red flickers in the corner of his eyes, and Muriel instinctively turns, bracing for the sight of blood. Instead he finds flowers, and you flinching with wide terrified eyes, and a smile barely there on your twisted lips.

“Hello,” you say, flatly, only loosely coloured with a false cheer, just barely covering your trembling voice.

“…Hi.” He manages to mutter back. “Are you…okay?”

You relax a little, no longer afraid, but a look of hurt still lingers in your expression, and Muriel doesn’t know if or how he should try to help. Still, you manage to nod, and smile, however sad it may be.

“I’m fine,” you sigh in a way that always preludes a “but”. “It’s just that, he still didn’t pay for the bouquet.”

You gesture to the bundle of flowers a beautiful splash of red all clustered beautifully together. There are a litany of different shades of red and even a few other colours amidst the bunch, each complimenting the other, looking much less like the chaotic spatter that he still had at home. He could see roses amidst the bunch, de-thorned and coloured in hues he’s never seen before. Taller more spindly flowers sit amidst the bunch as well, though he’s unable to tell them by their names unsure if they are true in colour or made to look similar to the rest through whatever magic you were using.

Despite it’s beauty, you glare at it, as if you hoped it could shrivel up and die.

“I used so many flowers for that thing, what am I supposed to do with it now?” another grumble escapes you, sounding almost like a bitter growl. He flinches when you grab a flower and it’s pot, something set out as a display, and snatch it into the confines of your shop. He almost expects to hear the pot shatter, but your hands snap back out to grab another without so much of a whisper of the first pot being set down.

“Don’t you give some of your flowers out for free?” Muriel blurts out, regretting the question as soon as he asked it. Did it sound suspicious? Insulting?

“Those are special situations,” you snap back. “Besides, I do NOT give full bouquets out for free. That shit is expensive you know?! I put a lot of time and effort into them!”

Muriel nods, but he doesn’t think you see, as you carefully yank another bundle of flowers back into your shop, angry footsteps making the remaining blooms tremble from the force of it.

“I put all my hard time and effort growing these flowers! Contrary to popular belief I am NOT just running around in a meadow, picking out little flowers to take back home and sell for cheap! I grow these things myself! I colour them! I mix them together! I’m not some nobleman with access to flower farms and flower farmers!!”

Muriel busies himself by picking up the flowers you have further out for display, and bringing them back towards your shop. He doesn’t know where the door is, burred under flowers and greenery somewhere, but he tucks the display into the nook where he had hid many times before, keeping the flowers from prying eyes and greedy hands.

It’s the only thing keeping him in place really. As you continue to stomp back and forth in your shop, ranting about rich customers trying to cheat their way out of paying for your flowers. Even if he knows it’s not directed his way, Muriel can’t help but feel a growing sense of guilt.

He did that too. He’s doing that right now.

You don’t remember it, and to you it probably seems like you’ve been giving various different strangers tulips, but he has a bouquet of them now—one even bigger than that noble failed to pay for.

He carefully tucks the last of the flower displays away, carefully arranging the flowers so that none stick out and reveal their location to onlookers, and prepares to run away, internally promising to never return and never steal flowers from you again.

What he intends as a final glance your way, hoping to leave while your back is turned, roots him in place instead.

You stand, hands over your eyes, furiously scrubbing as you try to both hide and stop your tears. Torn between running to help you and running away, Muriel stands and stares, as useless to help as the flowers that still surround you.

“I just… fuck,” you hiss, or at least you try to around the hiccups of your sobbing. “It’s just so hard. They demand money from me and then refuse to pay me for my hard fuckng work! What do they even get out of hoarding that much money?”

Why can’t he decide? The choice to help you is as obvious as it was when you were being threatened by the nobleman earlier. And yet, when faced with a problem that he can’t solve with violence he’s stuck.

It really is all he’s good for isn’t it?

You duck behind your window to hide your tears, but he can hear your back hit the wall and the hiss of fabric against stone as you slide down to your knees and succumb to sniffles and sobs.

With little else to say or do, Muriel turns and runs away.

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A moment of terror pulls you from your sorrow as you remember the flower stands you left outside the shop. You’ve already lost a lot of time and effort on the bouquet for the noble who never paid, you can’t afford to loose your display flowers as well.

About to bolt out from the shop to look for them, you glance to the shops beside you wondering if your neighbors decided to be cruel, or if you could see the escaping thief. Instead, you find your flower stands tucked away in a little alcove between your shop and one of the neighboring booths beside it. The flowers are carefully tucked beneath each other, to keep from springing up over the other shop’s crates, and remain hidden from any potential thieves.

It’s not anything grand enough to make you reconsider opening the shop back up for the day, nor does it quell the roll of anxiety in your chest, but it’s enough to make you smile again. Even if only a little.

It takes you a moment to recall that a stranger had been here only moments ago after the departure of the nobleman, but beyond their presence you can’t recall anything about them. You know they helped a little, but the how or why evades you.

Instead you return to work tucking your flowers away inside, before you finally close shop and head back to your garden.

You can’t recall what the stranger’s face looks like, but the fleeting memory of them still lingers in your mind. They remind you, strangely, of tulips.

Perhaps you could give them one next time you saw them. Hopefully you’d recognize them in the crowd.

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Muriel’s fingers sift through the flowers that sit in his little wooden makeshift vase. In a better world he’d be able to give back all the flowers he had taken from you—stolen from you—and you would be able to sell your flowers to people who could pay for and better deserved the beautiful blooms. Instead, Muriel finds many of the flowers already starting to wilt in the vase, petals growing crumpled and stems growing weak. The first flower you had given him was a husk of it’s former beauty.

He shouldn’t have gotten it in the first place. That fleeting beauty would have been better spent on someone better than him. Someone who could appreciate it better with a crystal vase—or even a simple painted clay vase to carry the flowers and show off how pretty they were.

Or just…someone with more money than him. Someone who could actually pay you for your flowers.

Someone…. Someone who would deserve them.

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Once more, Muriel makes his journey into the market, the dizzying smells and feelings and noises made all the more worse by the burden of his objective. Two pouches sat in his pockets both burning through fabric and skin to scorch him to his bones. Every passing jostle against his body had him scrambling to check if both bags were still there, panic flooding him when he forgot that he had moved one of the bags from one pocket to another.

Over and over again scenarios flashed through his mind. He tried to keep himself reasonable, tried to expect the worst so he wouldn’t be disappointed, but hope—ever stubborn, and ever cruel—slipped in regardless of his wishes. He hoped that you’d still like him afterwards, that you wouldn’t ask him to pay for all the flowers he had taken from you, that you’d be happy to be able to remember him, but the truth of the matter was, that he was just another customer. All he had been receiving was a placating smile in hopes that he’d buy from you.

If only he could hate you for that. It’d be so much easier if he could let himself feel like he had been cheated, or wronged, but you were just trying to make money for yourself, just like everyone else. Could he condemn you for that?

The sickening smell of some strong smelling meal with pungent medicine fills his chest once more, and the once familiar need to vomit at the smell grows stronger knowing your shop is only a little further away. His hands gravitate towards the two pouches in his pockets and he squeezes them, hoping that for once the universe would be kind to him and he wouldn’t make some awful mistake like mix them up and give you the wrong bag too soon.

With every step closer he gets to your shop, Muriel recites in his mind what he wants to tell you, his apology for what he’s done and his willingness to not bother you again.

Someone else is already shopping at your booth. Muriel watches from nearby, trying to remember what he needs to tell you while he waits his turn.

“If you don’t mind, I need a few flowers, not too many…”

He just needed to tell you that he was willing to leave you be.

“How many flowers will that be? Oh, and what kind?”

No, no, he needed to apologize first for taking all of your flowers.

“Any kind will do. I just need them for a… friend of mine. They’re ill, and I... I made a promise to them.”

He’d need to explain what had happened as well. Explain how he kept receiving flowers from you, and explain how he’d need to pay for it.

“Oh, I hope they’ll be okay soon, how about this?”

“Oh that looks gorgeous!”

He’d need to tell you about that magic, that kept others from remembering him, and he’d need to….

“…oh, I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t pay that much.”

“…how much can you pay?”

Muriel watches the old man place a few coins onto the table. It really isn’t much, but telling by the clothes he wears and the stains that litter them, it’s clear that he’s been trying to save up for this. Your own eyes, grow dim at the sight of the meager amount he brings. Would it even pay for a few flowers? Would it even pay for a single flower?

Your eyes flutter closed and your hands grip the flowers as if you were going to yell at the old man, but you’re trembling as well, fighting against something before you look back up and smile.

No. No, no. You can’t be thinking—gossip travels fast in the marketplace, even faster when it’s something of concern or interest to a noble. If that person gets word that you’re giving out free flowers after that stunt you pulled yesterday…

“Alright. Take it.”

…What will happen to you?

“No—wait.” Muriel steps in, his own coin pouch in his trembling hands. “that…how much does that cost?”

It’s a smaller bouquet than what you’ve given him over his many many visits, but he still winces as you take the money. He’s now the one without enough funds to pay you back for your flowers. He’s now the one marring your reputation—making it seem like your prices are something fickle, that someone could just get a bouquet of tulips for free if they looked sad or sorry enough.

Was that why he had gotten all those flowers? You did say some were to brighten his day. Did he truly look so miserable?

The old man smiles up at him, and thanks him profusely as he leaves with his flowers. Muriel manages a smile, but a nagging feeling at the back of his head tells him it looks more like a grimace. When he turns back to look at you, you meet his half-smile half grimace with one of your own.

“Thank you so, so much for that—but you didn’t have to.”

“But yesterday—I saw—heard—” Muriel coughs, fighting the rising warmth in his face. “I heard about that… customer…yesterday. I just.... Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You smile, eyes falling closed as you recall something before you look up to him. “Yesterday, a kind stranger stepped in to protect me. It was…really sweet.”

Muriel forces himself to turn away from your fond expression. For all the preparation that he put in anticipating what he should do when you hate him, he never prepared for what he should do if you liked him.

While your attention is diverted, Muriel begins his attempt to scurry away from the situation before it grows too awkward, but not for the first time, you call out to him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Before you go!” Once more he stops and turns. He knows his face is flushed, he know he looks ridiculous, but he turns out of habit to the sound of your voice, like a sunflower to the sun. “—here. Just as thanks.”

Muriel stares at the flower you give him his mind flying back to a small cell beneath a roaring crowd. A rose coloured tulip, the likes of which he’s never seen before, sits in his palm as another gift from you. He’s never seen a tulip this red before. Brighter than the colour of blood.

He tries to hand it back, but your hands sit atop of his and push back, insistent on giving your gift.

You smile when you tell him, “Please, it’s a gift.” But he feels nothing but dread.

Another flower stolen, another bloom he can no longer afford to pay for.

He does not deserve flowers.

He certainly did not deserve yours.

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Muriel doesn’t return to the market. He doesn’t—won’t—need to for a while. The basket Asra had given him really lived up to it’s practical uses. He savors the fresh cool air of the forest, untainted by headache-inducing smoke billowing from medicine shops or blacksmiths or bakeries of sleepy bakers. The hiss and hush of the trees, sounds soothing to his ears rather than the cacophony of chatter, of yelling and demanding from sellers and buyers.

He feels alive and safe in the forest.

At least, more than he had felt when he was in the city—when he was just a child.

A lifetime of struggling for money and food and running from guards called by over zealous nobles was not something that he expected would every leave him. In the same way the blood may never wash from his hands, the dirt and disgust he carried for being one of many strays in the South End would never leave him either. It’s something he could live with though. Something he could endure within the safety of the forest.

…He just never thought he’d be the one causing someone to struggle the way he did.

It’s not the same. He knows that it’s not the same. You have a shop that you are able to maintain—a viable way to make money. With all your flowers, you probably had a garden, you probably had the ability to grow fruits and vegetables that you could eat and rely on when times got tough. And most of all, you are an adult. You can fend for yourself, act for yourself. You don’t need help the way a child does. You can survive.

…but sometimes just surviving just made things worse.

He just made things worse.

What if you were struggling for food? What if you wouldn’t be able to maintain that shop for much longer? What if all those flowers you gave him were what lead that noble to think it was okay to get flowers from you for cheap?

Even if he couldn’t be remembered perhaps people remembered seeing you give flowers away for free to someone over and over again. A free flower every now and then would hardly be anything bad but Muriel had enough to consider it a bouquet.

He had to pay you back.

It might take some time, but hopefully his carvings were appraised better than they were when he was a child. Hopefully more people liked them. Hopefully he could make enough money to pay you back soon.

Wooden animals sit between Muriel’s legs as he carved away at another figurine from a block of wood. It was a little sloppy, as was the other figures, but seeing as he needed to make back the funds at least somewhat quickly, he needed a lot of figures in a short amount of time.

The knife slipped against the wood, and cut into his hand. Deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to garner worrry. Not for his hand at least. Blood stained the wood he carved, tainting the wooden flower with a bloody patch of red, soaking into the wood.

Muriel sighed, as the blood seeped deeper and deeper into the pale wood. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to carve the stain away to salvage the flower, he set it aside, and wiped the blood from his hand, and started again against a new block of wood.

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For all Muriel had planned and worried the location and use of a stall was not one of the things he had considered. The market was filled with vendors all squished against each other in an attempt to sell wares. Any of his old places for selling things as a child were either filled by new children, hawking trinkets and other odds and ends, or far too small for him to fit in and comfortably sell from now.

He tried to wander through the busier parts of the market, even amidst the crash and chatter of people around him, but earlier vendors had beat him to the stalls, and no one was willing to spare any space.

Eventually, though he tried to avoid it, he came down to your side of the market, where there were just a little less shops than before. Even here however there was no space that he could take that wasn’t a crushing squish against two other shops.

The familiarly grating smell of medicine and baked goods wafted past him and instinctually he glanced your way, even if he hoped not to see you and gain another flower he needed to pay back.

Only, you weren’t there at all.

Where there was once a little window surrounded on all sides by flowers that seemed to burst out from the room within, there was instead, a green door. Upon closer inspection a thin line divided the door in half so the top could be opened or the bottom could be opened, and he realized that this had been the window you once leaned out from to sell your flowers.

And now, flowerless it had been closed.

What happened to you? Did the noble come around and confiscate all your flowers for some crime you didn’t commit? Had he been too late to help you? Too late to fix his mistakes?

He didn’t know how long he had spent staring at the blank walls, taking in all the imperfections he had never seen and never wanted to see before, but it was long enough, that someone inevitably noticed him.

“Hello?”

Muriel nearly leapt up from his place and ran, if not for the person he turned to see.

Still smudged with dirt, with flower petals and leaves caught in your clothes, you stood before him, smiling but confused.

“I’m sorry, did you want something from the shop?”

The bag of coins burns in his pockets, both too heavy and too light for him to hold. He scrambles for an explanation, something feasible to explain away the situation, and allow him to go on his way once more, but his mouth dries with every attempt, and the urge to confess his crimes and get it over with builds high in his chest.

In the end, he abandons his words and shakes his head instead.

With an even more confused look on your face, you shake your head almost dismissively, but a smile still lingers on your lips. It reaches your eyes too, drawing lines across your face from the force of it all. He tries to convince himself that it’s genuine, but the doubt is hard to remove once planted.

After all, you always smile to your customers, even if they don’t deserve it.

“What are you doing here then?”

“I… Just…I’m passing by,” he manages, watching as your smile shifts for a moment. It softens, but it never leaves your face.

“Oh. Where are you off to?”

He glanced away, tempted to just give some non commital answer and just leave before you could ask something else, but he catches sight of your empty shop once more and finds his feet rooted in place.

“I…. I was looking for a space to set up a temporary shop.”

“Oh! What are you selling?”

Since it’d be easier than trying to explain, Muriel reaches into his basket, pushing aside the blanket covers to protect against the sun and the wooden support beams he was planning to use to hold the blanket up, to reveal the wooden carvings that sat beneath it all. He grabs the first one he feels pulling it free and offering it for your inspection.

“Oh! That’s so pretty!” He looks at it in your hands now, one of the flowers he had carved from wood. It’s no tulip, but he’s glad you seem to like it at the very least.

“You can keep it if you want.”

“Really?” you ask, your voice wrung with awe sounding almost almost breathless to his ears.

Despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to tell if you were actually pleased or just smiling, Muriel glances your way, finding that soft smile once more on your lips, as your fingers carefully trace around the center of the flower. He turns away from the sight of it.

“Sure.”

“Oh, hey, in exchange, how about…” Muriel braces himself for the flower you’d always give him. No matter how pretty or soft it’s petals looked he would not accept. He couldn’t, knowing that he’d have to add another flower considering how much he’d need to pay for it.

Instead, you gesture to the shop, and smile.

“Here! You said you wanted to look for a stall to sell your things at, you can use my shop.”

And though Muriel knows full well what your shop looks like, for the first time today he turns and actually looks.

Between two stalls sits the little window, where you once leaned out and smiled at him as he passed. Except, with it’s top “shutter” closed, he could now see it was a door, sitting listlessly against the off-white walls. Around it, where flowers once bloomed, cracks in the stone are so abundantly clear. Exposed for all to see without flowers covering the cracks. Sitting lifeless, colourless, and empty, he little shop seemed even smaller, crowded out by other people’s boxes. A hollow husk of what it had been before.

Or, perhaps it was hollow because you weren’t there anymore.

For all the questions he wanted to ask, all the distress and apologies he wanted to offer, all Muriel can stomach to ask, is a pathetic, strangled, “why?”

Why weren’t you using your shop anymore? Why did you remove all your flowers as if you were just moving out? Why were you letting him use that shop?

Why, even when you couldn’t remember him, did you still trust him?

Why were you kind to him?

Why—

Muriel turns to the sound before you do, the heavy footsteps of armored soldiers marching with that distinct rattle of their shiny armor that only ever meant they were here on purpose, rather than just on patrol.

You catch sight of them a moment later, the same time that they catch sight of you.

And all Muriel can do is stare.

It’s funny really, how, in the past it had almost been second nature for him to run and hide at the sound of clanking armor, grabbing any other children he’d see who had yet to notice lest they get taken by the soldiers seeking to “clean up” the marketplace. But maybe it was all that time he had to spend trying not to flinch and run from the soldiers in the coliseum lest the taunt and tease him while he was helpless to do anything else, or maybe it was the safety net that his gift provided, knowing they could never come for him.

It doesn’t matter anyways. He’s rooted to the ground, helpless to do anything to help you.

A familiar face grins behind their armored friends, looking as pleased as they looked punchable, as if tattling to the soldiers about whatever offense you didn’t commit was something they could be proud of doing. As if they weren’t just some massive coward hiding behind armor and gold.

As if they were really in the right.

He’d scowl if he could manage, but he feels far away from his body, bracing for cold impact of armored hands against mere flesh. Ready to drag him away somewhere cold and dark and alone. Ready to drag him back to the arena.

Instead, the hand that finds him is warm.

Warm fingers thread themselves between his, and suddenly he’s being pulled through the marketplace, just barely able to grab his bag before he’s running between stalls and down alleyways, as the soldiers clamor and shout clumsily crashing through booths and debris in their pursuit.

The both of you are fast, but the soldiers, trained as they are, are faster, and grow closer and closer as you stumble on each other’s feet trying to stick together. You seem to have a destination in mind, but running home with these soldiers on your tail is never, ever a good idea. You seem to know this, but you don’t seem to know how to loose them.

Muriel on the other hand does.

All it takes is a few strides and a squeeze of your hand before Muriel is leading you through the streets, diving down alleyways, and between shops and their carts, before he shoves you into a small dip between two buildings, crowded with boxes and goods from the stalls that sat on either side, and his basket set in front of him for good measure. The two shopkeepers glared his way, frustrated at his strange intrusion, but they fail to notice that he had someone with him, as they often do if that other person is hidden quickly enough. Though their eyes on him makes his skin prickle, they slide off as easily as water on oil, and soon they return to their own business, forgetting that Muriel had ever even existed as their attention drifts away, and they return to attending to their wares.

The crash of soldiers is audible in the distance, and behind him, hands pressed to his back, Muriel can feel you grow tense. Your hands ball up into fists on his cloak, and you press your face into his back as if it may be able to better help you hide from them. It lets him feel you breathe, trying to keep it slow, and deep, trying to relax yourself, but the tremors remain. It makes him want to hold you, take your hand in his to reassure you, tell you that everything will be okay, but when he still trembles at the growing sound of iron on stone and wood, all he can do is stand still and quiet, hoping to all hope that the shopkeepers beside him would not note his presence and, that what little magic he has won’t fail him,

Above all, if everything else fails, he hopes you remain safe.

Their armor glistens in the sunlight, blindingly bright, a distraction and protection he’s fallen victim to many times before. One turns his way, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, Muriel loses his breath. Behind him you tense as well, as if his tension passed onto you. As if you could somehow see through him, and met the guard’s eyes.

He wonders if you had poked your head out from behind him, wonders if the guard had somehow seen you—a scrap of your clothes perhaps, or some sliver of your skin. He hopes to all hope that you had not done so, but he tries to puff up his chest despite it all, use the width of his shoulders to truly make sure you were covered.

And no matter how much he wants to do otherwise, Muriel keeps his eyes open, and stares down not only the guard before him, but also the group behind him, watching and waiting for that moment of recognition, the moment when the guards eyes stopped slipping away, the moment when he’d have to shove the soldier away to let you escape.

To make sure no one was dragged to the coliseum again.

Someone yells behind the guard, loud and abrasive, and Muriel has to keep himself from flinching at the sound. For another moment the guard lingers, eyes still scanning the area, where Muriel stood, as if he wasn’t there at all, for a mere second perhaps, before they turn away eyes still slipping off of Muriel like water against oil. The soldiers continue on hollering and barking as they chase shadows down the street. It’s only when they fade out from earshot that Muriel finally relaxes, and behind him, he can feel you do the same.

It’s an awkward little shuffle around when he steps away to let you escape your confines. Your hand doesn’t quite leave his back so readily, trailing down before falling away, leaving phantom trails of pressure and warmth still lingering on his skin, even if you never actually touched him directly. He tries to distract himself amidst it, focus on getting his basket back on his back. Focus on the possibility of another patrol of soldiers passing by. He doesn’t notice that you had been waving for his attention until you fingers slip beneath the belts across his chest and you yank.

“Thank you,” you whisper-hiss, freeing his belt to capture his hand instead. “C’mon, follow me. I know a safe place we could lay low for awhile.

Your hand is warm in his. Sweaty from running, but warm, with callouses marking the inside of your knuckles. Your rough hands against his own, and yet cradling his carefully with your touch. In his earlier haste he didn’t get the chance to notice that.

You tug, he follows.

–––––––––✿・✿・✿–––––––––

For all that he’s known you, for all the times he’s visited, all he’s ever seen from you were smiles that bent your eyes with it’s fondness, soft as the flowers that surrounded you and vibrant as the sun that fed them.

But that hardly counted as knowing a person.

For all you had forgotten of him, he never really got to know you.

The city grows more glittery and sharp as you tug him towards the decrepit opulence of the flooded district, right along the edge of the temple district where old temples sat in ruin, flooded with water that bent their floorboards and made space frigid during the night. Yet those flaws hardly stopped children from scurrying into the upper levels through windows, standing in the frigid dust laden rooms, and pretending they had a better life.

He remembers doing the same himself, with vivid fondness, trying and failing to climb up the side of the building after soldiers broke all the available climbing structures, that could support his weight. Asra managed on the tiny ledges, and weak remains, but Muriel and many other children struggled to do the same.

Thick walls of ivy, and even a small tree grows there now, the ground having been cleared of tiles to make space for dirt and mud to allow for the growth.

He turns his attention back to you, as you continue to pull him past buildings, littered with new blooms that climbed the walls.

For all that you had forgotten of him, Muriel barely knew you.

–––––––––✿・✿・✿–––––––––

You stop before a fence that looms even above him, coated in greenery, with sharp, rusted metal spikes that jut out from the top of the bushes.

He can see thorns entwined with the green shrubbery, thin and clustered together to make it hard to avoid getting scratched or hurt by any attempt to climb up it, which perhaps, is why it was an area that seemed so abandoned. Unlike the well-maintained gardens of many nobles, what could a trespasser hope to find behind a fence so clearly bursting with nothing but plain shrubs and wayward thorns?

You, clearly, believed otherwise.

Muriel can’t help but wince when you jam your hand into the mess of thorns and bushes, rummaging around the plants in search for something within. He’s tempted to pull your arm out and try to get you to wear something to protect yourself, but you beat him to it, pulling back for a moment to reveal an untouched arm before you reach back in with more intent and care than you did before.

Something creaks, and the wall of ivy and bushes, reveals itself to be thinner than the foliage initially let on.

He doesn’t even need to slip through the greenery as you do to already glimpse the world within, but he does anyways, treating himself to the true magnificence of your domain. Hidden by plants and trees and bushes and thorns sits a world of flowers blooming en masse until they cover nearly every inch of the ground around it, some even spilling out from their designated places to uproot the stone tiles that made up the slim walkways between the spill of flowers.

Most strikingly, Muriel can see the tulips that line the far end of the garden, a splash of sporadic colours all clumped together in a mad swirl, spilling out from their allotted section to infiltrate pathways and the beds of their neighbors.

And amidst them, finally looking at ease, you stand, turning back to him with a smile.

“I’m sorry about that, but… we’ll be safer here for now.”

You close the door, with a gentle thud, and brush the roses around it back into place, slipping a rust-browned lock back into place, and locking the world outside far, far away.

Perhaps he should be worried that you had essentially locked the both of you inside here together, but despite being overcrowded with flowers, the garden seems so expansive he can hardly see it as being locked inside anything.

“Feel free to look around” you tell him. “Just… don’t pick anything, please.”

You flash him a smile, and as quickly as you had astounded him with the beauty of your garden, you turn away snapping your attention back to your flowers, and give him space to marvel in awe at your beautiful garden—to marvel in awe at your beautiful practice. Setting his basket aside, he watches as you crouch down, and procure a pair of shears from beneath a bush, and begin to snip away at the overgrown and wilted plants. The sun shines a halo around you as you hunch over plots of dirt, shuffling your way into the plants, and trying to pry flowers away from each other, to generate distance so one doesn’t starve the other.

It’s hard work, quick to smear you with dirt and mud, but he can see the tension fade from your back as you toil away, a means of relaxing yourself from the tension.

Though questions swirl around his stomach and chest, Muriel decides to give you your space. It’s the least he can do after all.

He wanders, carefully, between the patches of flowers, many intermingled with each other into beautiful messy arrays, some even curling around each other, to enough of an extent, that Muriel supposed you couldn’t separate them anymore. Of course, slow growing as flowers often were, Muriel wondered if you failed to notice how close they had gotten, or you simply allowed them to grow so close to each other.

He approaches your tulip patch. You have so many. Found in nearly every colour, with different patterns on the petals, and different shapes of petals themselves, all crowded into one large plot—and when that plot could not fit any more flowers, you intermingled the tulips amidst other plants, amidst other flowers that seemed to get along well with the shoots of colour.

Although he has never seen the foreign shaped and patterned flowers before, Muriel can’t help but note the abundance of red, orange, pink, and yellow tulips in your garden. A favourite, perhaps? Or perhaps they were in high demand, or perhaps they were just—

“They used to be my parents' favourite.” He turns to look at you, dirt smeared with leaves sticking to the fabric of your clothes. You turn to him and smile. “They liked to give them to each other, as a way to show how much they cared about each other.”

Something in Muriel’s chest flutters. Something else constricts. He really shouldn’t be hearing this—you don’t remember him, you don’t remember what you’ve done.

“I tend to give them out to my favourite customers as well.” Muriel scrambles for his bag. He shouldn’t be hearing this should he? No matter how much he wants to… he shouldn’t. It’s not fair to you. You don’t remember him, you might not even be harboring those kinds of feelings.

After all didn’t you say the flowers were supposed to just... cheer him up?

“Hey, do you want—” Muriel just barely manages to shove the bag into your hands, pressing further to get the bag closer to your face.

The sooner you remember the sooner you can kick him from your garden and be on your merry way, even though his stomach grows tight at the very idea of it. Your garden is beautiful. If he could stay here, or even just visit every so often he would be glad.

As it is, just seeing you smile was enough for him.

Just seeing you smile had been enough for him, but he’s taken too much from you, and he refused to take any more.

It takes you a moment, flustered as you try to protest the strange gift he’s given you, but the memories come soon enough, and rather than push, he finds you grabbing—not only the bag, but his hand as well—and pulling it closer to your face, to take a deep breath, and savor the memories.

It only lasts so long.

You stare at him now, eyes wide and mortified before your hands snap to your face trying and failing to hide you as you still cling to the bag of myrrh he had given you. Muriel closes his eyes and looks away, not wanting to see your enraged or sorrow filled face when you claimed you had been cheated or swindled of your precious, precious flowers.

Instead he hears you giggle.

It’s a nervous sort of giggle, the kind made when someone’s not actually happy, echoing in the hollow cup of your hand as you sink to the floor.

“Oh my gods. Oh gods.” The words slip between your fingers as you adjust and readjust your hands to hide your face. “Oh my gods I am so sorry.”

“What?”

“I gave you, so many flowers…”

The comment sounds like regret—that you regretted wasting so many flowers on him, but your voice doesn’t sound sad, you just sound… embarrassed.

“I am so sorry…”

“W-what?? What for?”

“Isn’t it embarrassing? I keep giving you flowers!” Your volume picks up, and though he doesn’t intend it, his own voice gets a little higher and a little louder in reply.

“Is that bad??” He really can’t focus on his volume when he’s trying to sort out all the questions you are not answering.

“ITS EMBARRASSING!”

“HOW?!”

You groan, half stifled and half agonized before you bury your face back into your knees, leaving Muriel’s mouth to snap shut with a soft clack, gritting his teeth as he silently vows to never open his mouth again—or at least refrain from doing so for a long while. He was too loud. Too close to yelling. He doesn’t blame you for being afraid.

He’s about to apologize, whisper something placating to fix his wrongdoings, but once again, you speak before he can even get a word in.

Or well, you don’t speak. You laugh.

It’s almost a mad cackle. Almost. If you didn’t peer up for a moment, looking so genuinely happy and pleased, he would have thought you had gone insane.

You’re breathless when your laughter bubbles down into hicuups and giggles, leaning your head on your arms as you peer up at him. Of course, he’s too tall for you to look without craning your neck, and that’s so much worse when you’re sitting down. He sits beside you in an attempt to keep your neck from aching, but that only seems to make you giggle more.

“So, how much to I have to explain?” You ask your question teasingly, but Muriel can’t help but notice the strain of sincerity or the way you shake ever so slightly as if scared. You’re still grinning, but he can’t help but take you seriously.

“It…. You spend so much time on your flowers…. Don’t you need the money?”

His question sobers you considerably, that smile falling away from your face. Again, he’s the one who has to tear that from you, who makes you frown instead of smile.

“I can afford to lose a few tulips.”

“It’s not a few.”

You huff, turning away from him, and again, he worries that he’s made you upset. “It’s fine. I have a lot of those ones anyways. Besides, it’s not like I give them out to everyone.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“What about that old man? You wanted to give those flowers to him for free…”

You roll your eyes, and shake your head a picture of exhaustion, if not for your smile. “Yeah, well, he’s a pretty common customer, and he’s a fellow merchant. I stop by his stall sometimes and I know he doesn’t always have much, but he still wants to give flowers to his friend and all that.” You turn away from him then, tucking your face back into your knees. “Besides, I wasn’t giving him tulips.”

His brows dip again, “Tulips…?”

You sigh, loud and drawn out, tucking your face deeper into your lap. “I… remember how I mentioned my parents?”

“I… I didn’t think I was supposed to hear it…”

“If not you then who?” you gawk, waving an arm to the garden that wraps itself around you. In the beat of silence that follows, the wind rustles through the flowers, and the sound of trickling water meets the melody of a birdsong. It’s so peaceful. It’s so… lonely. Another gust of wind, and though the walls sit thoroughly coated by shrubbery and plants outside, it’s far clearer to see the iron bars from within, a mere gust of wind doing enough to show the cage these flowers have been locked inside of. To show the cage that you...

“You’re the only other person here.”

“I didn’t… I thought you’d change your mind in letting me in here if you realized….”

Once more you tuck your face into your lap, and Muriel has to wonder what makes you so miserable every time he mentions it. “Why would I change my mind after remembering how many flowers I’ve given you?”

“I thought… I thought you’d think I’d stolen them.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “I gave them to you. As a gift.”

“Would you give me them if you knew it was me returning?”

You straighten yourself, turning to him with wide eyes as if he’s said something absurd or unthinkable. He’s about to retract his statement, make an apology for whatever he’s done to offend, but you look away before he does, and though muffled, in the quiet peace of your garden, you’re loud enough for him to hear you.

“Yes.” A pause. You fiddle with a worn patch over the knees of your pants, coated in dirt, and evidence of being repaired repeatedly, it’s a well loved set of gardening clothes. Well worn. Well cared for. “If I knew it was you, I’d give you even more flowers too.”

You huff the words out as if frustrated, and Muriel can’t help but look away.

“Why?” he blurts out the question, immediately regretting it when he hears you tuck your face back into your legs. You had said it was embarrassing. He still fails to understand… how.

“You heard the story about my parents.” This time it’s not a question. With your face now tucked behind your knees and safely guarded by an arm, you wave a free hand in the air, as if expecting him to connect whatever dots remains.

As if it was as easy as that.

“You said that they did so to show how much they cared about each other.” You bury your face deeper into your lap. “But you don’t… You don’t know me.”

At this point you’ve thrown your arm over top of your head now too. Trying to fold yourself up into a little human ball. Was this what was embarrassing? That you had been showing affection to someone you’ve never met before? To someone you didn’t know? But you haven’t known each other this entire time. What made it different now?

The glows over your garden, dappling you in it’s golden warmth. There are structures in place, some tall trees intermixed with the bushes outside, but sunbeams still sneak their way to reach you, as if eager to light you up, to amend the gloom that he’s cast over you. One beam streaks across your arms, and as you peek up at him, your eye glows in the golden light, and like magic, you slowly unfold yourself, to sit normally by his side.

“I… You’re right. I’m sorry.”

That was… “You’re apologizing again.” He means to ask it as a question but it doesn’t come out like it should. Hearing it fill the silence, he wonders if that would have been worse.

“I…” again, your hands come up to cover your face, dragging over your eyes, until they’re cupped around your mouth. You’re hiding again. Embarrassed you had said, but he still can’t figure out—“Look, I’m sorry for flirting with you okay?”

Muriel chokes. You don’t seem to notice.

“You don’t have to take it as flirting at all okay? It’s just… You just looked really pretty and I just wanted to give you flowers because I thought you were nice and you helped me out so many times with all those things, you were really brave and tough and yet so kind, and, augh no, look I’m not… I know I don’t know you okay, I’m not expecting you to fall in love with me over some…silly flowers, it’s fine. I… I’m really sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry if this is just…weird. I… look my garden is pretty much all I have! People like flowers but I understand if those were maybe just not your thing, and I know maybe roses would’ve been more fitting, but those are just so hard to take care of sometimes and they’re such an overused gift, I mean I kinda thought someone like you would end up tired of receiving those gifts all the time but that’s because I was assuming that you were interested in relationships like that and—”

You keep talking. And talking, and talking and talking. Circling back to the same statements over and over and over again in new contexts as you somehow say so much and very little at the exact same time. It’s nice though. He likes listening to you speak, even if this seems to make you more stressed out than ever, but most importantly, it gives him a moment to try to collect his own thoughts, to try to get his breathing in check. And when both attempts fail, to try and find a way to fold himself up into something tiny and unseeable.

He waits for a while, hoping that you’d trail off somewhere eventually, that he would eventually be able to interject and direct the conversation away, or just…. Ask if you were… serious…. but every glance his way seems to make you more stressed, and you burst out in another round of apologies and reassurances, and on top of it all another round of compliments, many of which keenly focused on…prettiness.

Particularly him… and… being… pretty.

He doesn’t mean to grab your wrist. Poke you maybe, but he doesn’t mean to grab.

It’s just… hard to tell when he’s trying to hide his warming face behind a hand.

There’s a long stretch of silence.

And of course, you try to amend whatever mistake you think that you’ve made. “I’m so sorry I didn’t—” he has to interrupt you this time.

“No… no… It’s…”

You’re really smart. Very, incredibly clever. Burying his face in his lap sounds more and more appealing by the minute, but as much as he wants to he can’t exactly make himself look as small as you managed beside him. Besides, he just… really wants to know.

“I… you think…. I’m….” He can’t. He just can’t. His mouth opens to try, but his throat falls dry each time. It’s a struggle to get the idea of it into his mind without growing furnace-hot at the thought alone. He is a rival to the sun, by mere heat alone.

Somehow, miraculously, you understand… or at least somewhat. “You’re kind, you’re brave… you’re pretty….” You have to look away as well, lips falling victim to the press of your teeth. “You’re pretty as flowers, really.”

Muriel could explode.

You take his embarrassment as distress, faltering and wincing as you try to amend what had never been damaged. If he could, he’d press a hand to your face to shut you up. But that would mean having to remove a hand from hiding his own face away.

“Sorry! Is that….? Is that insulting? I didn’t mean for it to be insulting like that or anything It’s just you know as a gardener and all constantly working with flowers and everything and—”

“No!” he wants to berate himself for yelling. To feel ashamed for raising his voice but the sound of it is so strangled and sounds more like a helpless yelp than anything, only really serving to make him feel more embarrassed.

It’s Embarrassing…

Have you been feeling this way the whole time?

“It’s just that…” many words want to spring their way out of his mouth all at once, and considering his tongue has yet to master the skill of saying two separate words at the same time, Muriel is just left to struggle. “I’ve never…. No one’s ever… It’s not bad it’s just….” He can’t speak. He’s as effective as if he were mute, eyes practically spinning in his skull, as he tries to look anywhere but you.

Still he manages a glance your way, and it gives him pause to find you staring intently at the ground, a little smile stuck upon your lips.

“Oh.”

You try to hide it behind your hand. And Muriel’s terrified to find his first instinct is to grab your wrist and keep you from hiding away, like some sort of greedy hypocrite. To deprive you of the chance to hide when all he would ever do—all he was ever going to do, would be the exact same thing. It’s greed isn’t it? First for your flowers, and your mild kindness towards him and now—! Now!!

What was he going to do now?!

“Do you want a flower?”

You blurt the words out, slamming your hand over your lips to hide away promptly after. You’re standing now, unable to tuck yourself back into your knees, but your hands are still a serviceable shield. It’s nothing to block the words that begin to pour from your lips, but maybe you aren’t trying to stop that. Maybe it’s just your expression. He wonders at what you look like so flustered….

How greedy.

“I mean It’s just—I don’t know if you want something other than a tulip—I’ve given you so many tulips—I haven’t even asked you about your favourite flower! You know! So I just thought! Just— Any flower you want!! Just one!!”

You scurry off somewhere, possibly off to tend to your flowers for something, trying to busy your hands, or just to get away from him. He understands both sentiments very well as his hands tangle themselves together twisting and pulling as he wearily gets up and looks around your pocket of paradise once more.

He doesn’t really want to take any of your flowers. At least… not pluck them straight off of the ground.

The tulip beds overflow with flowers, and like a moth about to be burnt by the flame he wanders towards it, unable to bite back his urges when he plucks a flower from it’s place.

It’s not something he wants it’s just…

It’s stupid….. But……

You return with an armful of various flowers, small simple little things, that fill your arms and get tangled in your clothes, some even worming your way to sit around your shoulders like little faeries peering over at him.

And you offer all that hasn’t attached itself to you, to him.

You don’t even speak, you just shove it all into his arms, like some last ditch effort for… something. As if this was a last ditch effort at all.

The flowers just barely all fit into the crook of his arm, and he’s grateful for once, for being so large. That he can hold so much in one arm alone, as it leaves his other arm free to offer your tulip back to you.

It’s a sign of affection you said. He hopes you understand, because he really can’t stomach speaking right now.

Surely, surely you do… right?

Your eyes go wide as if it was not your own flower he had been offering to you, gingerly taking the little bloom by it’s stem into your own hands.

And when you glance up at him, looking so happy, so giddy and yet trying and failing to hold it all back, he finds that same warm sunshine you’ve offered him when you leaned out your window the first time you met.

It’s so bright, it almost burns. At least, it certainly makes his face burn. He can’t stare at you for long, turning away sharply as he fights the urge to take more than he’s due, to sweep the dirt from your face, pluck the flower from your hand and tuck it behind your ear…. Or…. Something…..

He has to go. He has to leave. His face can’t take much more of this overwhelming warmth.

“I have to—” he begins his retreat muttering as he goes, but you grab him, your hand clinging to the slim portion of his wrist, fingers slipping beneath the cuff, to sensitive skin beneath, as if scared that he might try to tear your hand from his skin.

“Wait you….” Your smile faltered, growing into something sad as you stared at him. “Will…. Will I remember you?”

And for all he wanted to escape, he turns back to you to slip your fingers free from the uncomfortable hold they have on his wrist, to instead take your hand in his own and give what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. “Yes. You…. Yes. You’ll remember me. So long as you have that pouch I gave you…”

He can see it in your eyes, in the furrow of your brow and how you lean closer to him. You want to know why. What had happened to him, how it happened. You want to ask about the spell that he asked for himself.

But you don’t.

That soft smile glows his way instead, and you squeeze your own hand against his once more.

“Okay,” you say hand already falling slack. “I’ll see you in the market then.” You’re just barely holding on to his fingers now, still squeezing, still trying to let go. “You’ll visit, right?”

He wants to say yes, but you’ll remember him now, and he’d hate to leave you waiting for him.

“The market isn’t really….”

“Ah right." You laugh, though a little awkwardly. "How about here then? Do… do you think you can come back here sometime?”

He nods, not trusting his voice to speak for him. Your fingers are nearly gone from his hand, but you curl them up against his anyways, giving one final squeeze before your hand falls away.

He turns, and with the loud creak of the metal gate marking his departure, he sends one final glance to you, finding you grinning from ear to ear, waving at him as he goes. “Come back soon! I really want to get to know you!”

Tongue tied, and the need to escape burning furiously through his body, Muriel smiles and nods, before he slips through the gate and through the foliage that hides it, already planning the fastest way to get back home, and the fastest way to return to your garden the next day.

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When Muriel gets home his hands are a trembling mess. He misses many times, trying to slip the many flowers he’s received back into the little cup along with the others. Perhaps it’s a bad decision to take up a knife when his hands are trembling this much, but just as much as he shakes with the overwhelming wave of anxiety from talking with you, he trembles just as much with an itch to create.

It’s hard work, and long work, and it’s very far from done when the sun finally sinks down into the sky, but the shape is at least there, and tomorrow he’ll work on scooping out the insides of it to make a vase.

His thumb sweeps over the patterns clumsily carved into the wood but he smiles as he follows the grooves of his work.

A little heart sitting amidst a garden of clumsily carved flowers.

It’s fitting, in a way.

It seems to be where he’s left his own after all.

……

…It…also seems to be where he’s left his basket.

Ah, well, looks like he’ll have to go there tomorrow then, right?

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: Forgotten First Kisses

Some bullet-point thoughts on the first kisses that happened pre-ressurection.

Nadia and Chimalus

Neither of them remember this now, but Nadia and Chimalus actually met long before Nadia came to the shop that fateful night.

The two of them first met at a party when they were much younger, around 13-ish. 

It was a decidedly fancy party thrown by Nadia’s parents. A party that neither of them actually wanted to attend. 

Chimalus, who grew up in a noble family, was dragged along by their father, a sadly common and always uncomfortable occurrence. 

They eventually got the chance to flee into what they thought was an empty balcony. 

It turned out Nadia had done exactly the same thing. 

The two of them ended up talking for a while. They really enjoyed each other’s company. 

For both of them, it was a chance to shed expectations and just be kids. 

When they finally had to part, Nadia took Chimalus’ hand and gave them a very Regal Kiss on their knuckles. 

Chimalus was a blushing mess after that. 

And Nadia’s family teased her about her “first kiss” for a while. 

Damian and Julian

Julian is a doctor. Damian is an alchemist. The two of them worked very well together when trying to find a cure for the plague. 

And they found they worked wonderfully together in other aspects as well

Which led to Julian shouting out the above line after a particularly impressive breakthrough moment in their joined work.

Damian replied: “Go ahead.” 

Julian was Stunlocked for a bit 

But eventually he managed an adorably awkward cheek kiss. 

Damian chuckled and gave him a real kiss in return. 

It was a small one. But it absolutely left an impression on poor Julian. 

Julian was red for the rest of the day. And it was hard to look Damian in the eye. 

Damian found the whole thing adorable. 

Asra and Meleia

Meleia and Asra didn’t get an official first kiss until after the Lazaret incident, as they sat on their gondola under the fireworks of their “first” Masquerade together. 

But Asra did sneak a kiss on Meleia’s cheek when they were younger. 

This was back when she was still living with her Aunt.

Her aunt didn’t approve of their friendship (which was slowly budding into a relationship) 

So Asra could only stop by for visits on rare occasions. 

The two “snuck” out when they could to see each other (i.e. Meleia let Asra know when she was going to the market and they met up there perfectly normally) 

And one day they stayed out later than planned, going well into the night. 

Asra walked her home. And gave her a little kiss on the cheek as a goodnight kiss. 

It was 100% impulsive. And he immediately ran away the moment he had done that. 

Meleia just laughed at his antics. Though she did Meleia consider herself very lucky that her aunt wasn’t home that night

(She also spent way too much time blushing and giggling over that kiss like a schoolgirl)

[ravenloop]

Hello hope your day is ok!

I was wondering if you could write a Muriel x florist reader where when Muriel is making his once in awhile trip into vesuvia he goes past the readers shop and she gives him tulips because he looks sad and he takes them but after he's gone they forget him obv but the next time he comes into town it happens again and again until he finally gives the reader myrrh and then they remember all those times and get really embarrassed

[Your face... I know it!]

Pairing: Muriel x Florist!Reader

AN: I did this so late I'm so sorry—but here's your request! I hope you enjoy it <333 also sorry of there's any mistakes, Tumblr is being weird lately.

—————————————

It was never easy being Muriel.

Living, knowing he was a burden to his own family. Knowing he has to live with the guilt of who he killed for the rest of his life. Those memories haunted him, especially in moments like these. When everyone purposely stood far from him as he walked through the busy streets of Vesuvia.

Even in the crowded place, people still found a way to avoid him. His appearance alone struck fear in the hearts of people. And it made him... Sad? Annoyed? Want to scream out? He wasn't sure himself.

"Sir? Excuse me... Sir!" A soft voice pulled him out of the dark space in his mind. He looked to the side, a woman was calling him. How long was she doing that?

You smiled as the man finally looked at you. He didn't seem annoyed that you stopped him, thankfully. Just confused.

"Here..." Reaching into the basket you held, you pulled out a stunning orange tulip. You looked at him and then put your hand out, offering the flower.

Muriel was shocked at this. So shocked he didn't even do anything, he just stared down at the flower. Why were you being so kind and caring towards him—warily he narrowed his eyes.

"Flowers often brighten moods. Especially ones with colours like these." You glanced down at the flower in your hand before looking back into the man's eyes, "You seemed a little down... Maybe it could help."

"...Oh." His face goes pink, and he hoped the shadows casted by his cape made it hard to see.

Slowly, he reached out and took the tulip from you. Then quickly, he muttered "Thank you..." before walking faster than ever and leaving the area. It confused you, but you quickly went back to nurturing your flowers.

A week passes.

Muriel is back in Vesuvia.

Once again he roams through the busy streets and markets. It's what he's always done for the past couple years. Nothing is new.

As always, people avoid him. They're terrified of what he is, of what he can do. And many make it clear by hugging their bags and items close to them as he walks past, even though no one even knows him.

Then he reaches a familiar place. Your flower stall. He remembers it because you gave him a flower out of kindness. No one has ever done that for him. That small act never left his mind.

And when he passes by, thinking you'd simply ignore him, he's surprised when you do the exact opposite.

"Um... Sorry, sir? Sir!" He heard your voice for the second time and freezes before turning.

Again you smile at him, and again you pull out a tulip—this time a yellow one—and again you offer it to him.

"Flowers often brighten moods, you... Seemed a little down, maybe it could help?..." You hoped you didn't offend him. His intense gaze kept flickering between you and the tulip. He had almost a shocked expression on his face, but you couldn't exactly tell.

Gently, he grabbed it and uttered, "...Thank you." Before anything else could be said between you two, he left. But you failed to see the tiny traces of a smile on his lips.

Then Muriel notices the pattern.

This goes on for another two weeks. He'd take his usual route past your stall, you'd stop him and offer a tulip, and that would be the end until his next trip into Vesuvia.

It takes time, but he finally concludes and accepts that you're a person not wanting to hurt him.

"Um... Excuse me, sir?" He turns almost immediately this time, a neutral look on his face.

As expected, you smile at him and reach into your woven basket for a tulip. You really liked tulips, didn't you?

"Here... Flowers often—" "—brighten moods," Muriel unconsciously finishes the famous line for you. His eyes widen when he realises what he did and he looks to the side when your eyes go wide.

"You've um... Given me flowers before."

"I... Have?" You don't remember seeing this man before, let alone giving him your flowers. Did you forget one of your customers? A friend? Oh, now you felt bad.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't—"

You cut yourself off when the man sighs and almost hesitantly reaches into a pouch, pulling out a bundle of something. You recognise it as myrrh.

He gives it to you, and you slowly take it from him. The smell of myrrh fills your nostrils and your brain, it's delightful, but then it brings back memories.

You have seen this man before. And you gave him tulips! How could you forget?!

Your face flushes almost instantly at the embarassing fact that you didn't recognise the man you gave flowers to every week. You don't even think about how myrrh is what helped you remember him.

"I'm... Sorry." The man just nods, he himself looks flushed, "It's fine. I... liked... the flowers."

Then he actually smiles at you. It's small, but It's the first time you've seen him do so.

That makes you smile. "What's your name?"

"Muriel...".

"Well, Muriel." You offer the same tulip from earlier again, "Flowers often brighten moods, care to take one?"

At least your flowers finally brightened his mood.

[garden-of-omegas]

⚜ FIRST MEETING [ARCANA - ROMANCEABLES] ⚜

┌── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

characters: asra | nadia | julian | muriel | portia | lucio summary: the details of your first meeting with your future mate. warnings: none? i think. rating: sfw a/n: starting with the basics this time! don't worry about the missing writings, they're not completely gone and will be back sooner or later. i just realized i needed to revise a lot of stuff and i'd rather do that now rather than way later when they're half-lost under everything else.

~🎕

└── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

≿━━━━༺❀ asra ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a wandering magician, looking for a place to settle down with your familiar, an european badger named ursula. you'd recently arrived at vesuvia, where you were planning to stay for only a few days.

✿ asra was eighteen at the time, and had yet to start his travelling lifestyle. you, on the other hand, claimed to be around the same age though you never mentioned your exact age. however, you were apparently already tired of your travels.

✿ you met asra during a masquerade, the first time you'd ever come to vesuvia. he had set up a little fortune telling booth near the market, and you were wandering around taking in the sights. you happened upon his booth during your wandering, and showed him a few tips to fortune telling after having your own fortune read. asra immediately asked you to teach him more. [☘]

✿ you agreed to teach him a few tricks if he showed you around vesuvia, as you had yet to figure your way fully around. his enthusiasm made you fall in love with vesuvia (and him) and eventually you went on to buy the shop he'd set his booth at.

✿ asra admired you instantly upon meeting you, you were so knowledgeable and wise about magic and the world. spending some time with you let him even see a glimpse behind the gruff look on your face, and he thinks some part of him fell in love with you then. you found asra to be cute, his eternally curious disposition quickly breaking through your usually tough facade. it didn't take long for you to decide that spending more time with the cute omega wouldn't be too bad.

≿━━━━༺❀ nadia ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a magician looking for something shown to you in a vision you'd had. you'd been on the road with your familiar, a jackdaw named camma, for several years at that point. vesuvia was originally just a stopping point for you on your journey.

✿ nadia was twenty at the time, recently engaged to lucio (sort of, anyways...). you were apparently around the same age, though with apparent wisdow beyond your years.

✿ you happened upon nadia in the town square of vesuvia, both of you rather new to the city-nation. she was just leaving her carriage when you'd stopped by to ask her about her clothes and carriage, ever curious about anything new. nadia gladly answered you, drawing you both into a conversation about her home country.

✿ nadia had to eventually leave for her duties, but she invited you over for discussions several times afterwards while you were still in the city. you eventually decided to stay, feeling like vesuvia was where you were meant to be and went on to open your own shop.

✿ nadia thought of you as an interesting person, your curiosity apparent and rather cute. she especially admired your intelligence and talents, making your constant talking far more tolerable than most other people she has to listen to. to you nadia was the most curious thing in the entirety of vesuvia, something about her drawing you to her instantly. you weren't sure if it was her scent, so exotic, or something more magical. regardless, you couldn't wait to get to know more about her.

≿━━━━༺❀ julian ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a magic shop owner in vesuvia, having already settled down some time ago, though you still dreamed about your past of travelling. at least your familiar, an irish wolfhound named calum, was content with it all.

✿ you were both in your mid-twenties, supposedly. it was shortly after the plague started, after you were forced to close your shop and were looking for someway else to help the community.

✿ you ended up at julian's clinic's doorstep unexpectedly, looking to make use of your medicinal magic skills with the help of a real doctor. or, as close to one as you could get. julian opened the door expecting a patient, and instead got a stern looking magician asking to become his assistant. a few flustered stammers later he let you inside.

✿ julian gladly took you in as an apprentice after seeing your work, even with his apprehension towards magic. the two of you got close rather quickly, given how much time you were spending together prior to julian's call to the palace.

✿ after the initial surprise of seeing you on his doorstep, julian couldn't help but think of how pretty you were. a perfect alpha, though he'd never admit that that's what he thought. that, and he couldn't help but admire your talents with medicine. you mostly thought of julian as cute. stammery, dramatic, and extremely cute. a bit odd with his mannerisms, but his dedication to his craft is what really caught your attention. who wouldn't admire such passion for helping people?

≿━━━━༺❀ muriel ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were running a shop in vesuvia, working as a magician and trying to keep your rather new life intact. your familiar, a fallow deer named aldwyn, was especially taking your new city life badly.

✿ you were young adults at the time. your meeting was only shortly after you'd settled in vesuvia and asra started staying with you. not that asra was home at the time.

✿ you were out in the forest looking for herbs with aldwyn, who was leading you to all the best spots. he lead you to a small hut, with all kinds of helpful herbs growing around the area. then you got a faceful of wolf and had to be saved by a large omega smelling like all those herbs.

✿ muriel of course did his best to herd you away from his hut, but being the stubborn idiot that you are you kept returning back. it was the best place for herbs you'd found, and the cute omega was a delightful bonus of course.

✿ muriel mostly thought of you as weird. oh so weird. you were stubborn, oddly cheerful, and despite his gruff personality kept calling him cute. he was sure that inanna had knocked something lose in your head. at least your deer companion was cute. you were enamored with muriel immediately, almost sensing his gentle giant heart. and his grumpy pouts were far too cute to pass up on. so you decided immediately that you'd make it your life mission to bother him at his little hut as much as possible.

≿━━━━༺❀ portia ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a travelling magician at the time, having only recently started your journey with your newly minted familiar, a ferret named leda. though really, you were just an apprenticing magician at the time. [☘]

✿ you were both so young, portia only a little over a decade and you in your early teens. julian had just left nevivon, and portia was still waiting for the day to go after him.

✿ you'd just arrived in nevivon, having heard about their salts and being interested in their possible magical properties. you were looking for someone to show you around when a bushy-haired little girl stepped onto your bath and offered to show you around. you of course took her offer, she was too cute to resist.

✿ portia showed you all around town, and eventually lead you to a place where you could purchase their famed salts. after a few tests, you got them to spark with magic, and it was over for you. portia spent the rest of your visit following you around in hopes of more magic.

✿ you were the most incredible thing portia had ever seen. your grand stories and magic tricks, oh she could just spend all her time listening to them! she was so sad to see you go when you had to leave to continue your journey. you thought portia was just the cutest thing ever, with her wild hair, boundless excitement and little button-nose. and so eager to see more of your magic! you'd never had someone so excited about something that felt so natural to you. you loved that feeling.

≿━━━━༺❀ lucio ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ when you truly first met lucio, you were incomprehensible and unknowning, but that's a memory lucio couldn't have and you lost. so, at the time of your actual first meeting you were a magician masquerading as a doctor.

✿ it was the start of the plague in vesuvia, you were in your mid-twenties and you had just started working at the palace to find a cure for the plague, one of the first to be called upon.

✿ you stepped into the count's bedroom, a few magical books with you and your familiar, a sphynx cat named primavera, hanging off your back. lucio spots you from his pet and calls you a servant, ordering you to bring him some water. he gets a surprise when you start laughing, and conjure a pitcher of magic for him.

✿ you spent most of lucio's early illness with him, taking care of him and trying to find ways to stop the plague from advancing. up until your eventual death you spent most of your waking-time by his side, looking after him and entertaining him.

✿ lucio was at first certain you were a hallucination made up by his illness, no way someone could be so perfect and beautiful. the moment your pissed off face broke into a melodious laughter he fell in love just a little bit. your soul knew he was it, this was it, but you yourself thought of him as a spoiled little brat. but primavera liked him immensely, so you decided that he was fine, and it didn't take that long for you to worm your way under his facade.

[soullessseraphim]

2 for the remaining two?

°For the two others !

2 - Birthplace

Delicatessen

Is actually from Vesuvia ! He grew up around the red street ; and well during the Plague was obviously taken to the Lazaret, and since it was during the beginning of it, doctors weren't as overwhelmed. And after that, he found a hideout in the Red Market, where he currently resides.

Baron Vultur

from here

Hjalle? I can't read well ; and basically, (!!this may be canonically inaccurate!!) he left because the city crumbled to dust economically/politically etc. And now he's a courtier at the Palace

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: Baby Fever

Taking into account everything except what's in my personal space, it's a fairly normal afternoon in the Center Marketplace. Selasi's humming a popular song as he shovels another batch of rolls into his oven, the regular shoppers are bustling between the merchant's stalls, and the steam from my cup is wafting as gracefully as ever into the bright blue sky.

Oh, shoot that's a burning hazard isn't it, patronsdangit -

"Language!"

And the cheeky greeting from the magician appearing suddenly in front of me isn't helping.

"Fudge you, I'm trying not to be a bad influence."

"You? A bad influence? On who - oh, hello."

I glance down again just in time to move my cup away from the dimpled, chubby hand grasping for its boiling contents. The one-year-old in my lap looks up at me and grins. I look back at Asra with a smile. "I don't want to be a bad influence on this one."

They're already taking a spot at the low table, putting themself and their bag between the baby and the walkway to the stairs. As responsibility-averse as he is, it doesn't stop him from lending the toddler a steady hand as they wobble out of my lap. While the other steals my pumpkin rolls -

"What's their name?"

"This is Nasha." The tot gives me a gurgling giggle, grasping at the edge of the low table while they bounce on their feet. I brush a stray dark curl out of their face. "Their parents needed an afternoon out and know I used to babysit, so they called in a favor. I hope you plan on replenishing those."

"He already ordered a second batch." Selasi approaches with a basket for the table, steam rising through the cloth from the rolls underneath. "Hello, little one. And what are you old enough to eat? May I hold you?"

The tot looks up from where they're digging through Asra's bag, Faust nudging the no-so-baby-friendly contents out of reach and dodging their grabs at her tail. They stare wide-eyed at the burly baker before lighting up the market corner with a drool-filled smile. I hoist them up by the armpits and hold them out in Selasi's direction.

"They turned one last week. Do you know how to hold them safely?"

"Oh, Selasi knows all about how to hold the small ones, yes he does." He takes the toddler on one arm, cooing and rocking them back and forth. This is a side of him I haven't seen before. "Look at how many teeth you've grown, my tiny friend! If I remember right, you're old enough to be eating honey now, aren't you? Selasi's brought you a little dish and spoon for a nice treat, if your decaying-mind-friend says it's alright."

I groan at the nickname. "Not you too - and yes, their parents said they can eat honey now. Just be careful about -"

And I'm interrupted by an excited screech from several booths away.

"Is that a baby with brainrot?! Hi baby!!"

Portia sails into view, her brother dragged behind her by the coat and away from the newly-established leech stall where he was probably about to sink half his savings. Julian stops struggling and straightens up as soon as he spots the baby on Selasi's arm. "My my my, what do we have here -"

"Awwww, can I hold them? Please?!"

Portia's curls are going to stand on end if she tries to contain herself any longer. I nod, but Selasi seems hesitant to let go of his new friend. "You should be careful, they've just eaten some -"

"Fear not! I shall rescue you, small one!"

It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion as Julian uses his long arms to reach over Portia's head, plucking Nasha from the baker's grasp and seating them on his arm. The baby looks at the newcomer in surprise and decides to introduce themself by smearing their honey-covered sticky fingers down the doctor's cheek.

"Well, aren't you a - hrck - nnghck!"

Determined to explore further, the wide-eyed tot sticks their full hand into Julian's mouth mid-sentence. What follows are a series of chokes and gags as they reach deeper, giggling at the funny noises the doctor makes as he tries his best not to bite them. Portia adds injury to insult, yanking him down close enough to take the baby by tugging at his ear.

"Hey, you little cutie, what's your name?" She cradles them on her hip, cooing sweetly at them while her brother hacks and coughs behind her.

Julian straightens with a wince. "I think they went for my uvula -"

"His what-a-wha?"

The loud question behind them makes Julian jump, Portia eye-roll, and Asra grimace. I lean to peek around my visitors at the ex-count fast approaching us. "Hey, Lucio. It's a 'uvula', the hangy-down thing at the back of your mouth."

"And this little stinker tried to grab it? HAH!" He cackles, the loud noise making Nasha begin to curl in on themself. Portia tightens her hold on them, reconsiders, and then shoves them into the arms of the large shadow that's been lurking in the background for the last five minutes.

"Don't you call them that! That's brainrot's baby!"

Lucio freezes, face blue-screening as his eyes jump wildly between me and the baby nestled in Muriel's frozen hold. Asra snorts into their hand. Julian gives me an oddly thoughtful look. "Technically speaking, he is old enough and has the anatomy to have one safely, and he does seem, ah, quite comfortable holding one ..." Portia slowly nods along, taking a long look at me.

I ignore his mumbles and her stare and address the sputtering journeyman. "Nasha isn't my baby, they're my friend's baby, and I'm taking care of them for the day." I turn to where Muriel's adjusting his hold on the one-year-old. "You good?"

Nasha looks up and meets his eyes, pinning him with a four-toothed, honey covered smile. I swear I can see him melt. "... yeah."

"Since when do you take care of babies? I thought you were a writer. Let me see it -"

I brush Lucio away as respectfully as possible. "They're not an it, they're a baby, and your arm is way too sharp to hold them with that gauntlet on it."

"As to why he takes care of babies, he used to be an au pair, if I'm remembering correctly. You must be quite fond of children."

I didn't see Nadia approach with all the ruckus, but now she's standing between Lucio and Muriel and trying to give the baby in question her signature gentle smile. She's a little too stiff to pull it off. I can see Muriel's comfort levels disappearing with the growing crowd and reach over to relieve him of his charge. Nasha curls up in my lap, visibly relieved to be held by someone they know, and nestles against my shirt with a quiet sigh.

"Kids? Nobody likes kids, they're terrible at parties - OW! That hurt, Noddy!"

Nadia's smile is genuine now as she turns back to me, visibly curious about my answer. "Well?"

I chuckle, giving the tot my tattooed arm to poke and prod so they stop trying to snatch and eat Asra's shiny blue stone necklace. "I like them." Nasha leans back in my hold, eyelids drooping and squirming sleepily as I clean the honey off their hands and mouth with a spare cloth. It's hard to hold back the smile when they snuggle further into my arms.

"I've always wanted to have kids of my own. You get to cherish this tiny person through all their ups and downs, and teach them what unconditional love looks like while they figure out who they are and come into their own. And then one day, they're able to go out into the world and build their own life, while you cheer them on and watch them flourish."

I can feel myself flushing from the impromptu sappy speech. "Not to say that everyone should want kids! They're a lot of work and time and a serious commitment so I totally get why others wouldn't want -to - uhm -"

The six misty gazes I'm met with when I look up at my visitors makes me falter. Julian and Nadia look like they've seen a miraculous revelation. Portia and Lucio are hungrily eyeing the way Nasha dozes against my neck. Asra and Muriel are watching me reflectively, lost in thought and smiling quietly at the way I tuck the toddler's blanket around them.

I back up against the wall and make a show of snapping my knees shut, curling myself protectively around my charge. "I didn't say that I wanted to start having babies now, I'm a trans man, that shi- that stuff's complicated and I don't have the money!"

"Mpreg -" Portia coughs into her elbow, and I send her an annoyed look.

"Gee, thanks for the reminder of how taboo I'll be, Portia, let's hope I don't turn into someone's personal fetish or ick."

"Hey," Lucio cuts in with a slight pout, "Why didn't we have any kids, Noddy?"

Nadia fixes him with a stone-cold stare while everyone else looks at him in horror.

"Oh, you know why."

[anonymousbeefriendfanfics]

B with Asra and Nadia mayBEE?

I'm very punny I know

Sure! I adore you and your puns!

Fandom: The Arcana

Characters: Asra & Nadia

Warnings: None

Fluff Alphabet prompt: Boo! - How do they feel about surprises, giving and receiving?

Asra

Let's be honest here - Asra lives for surprises. He has a tendency to live life one minute at a time, so if you're going to be with them, you're going to get used to spontaneity.

That said, if you hate surprises, he'll do his absolute best to avoid them, but... it still happens kinda frequently. They do try to soften the surprise element, though, and will let you know about their new ideas or plans as soon as possible.

But anyway! Assuming you're on board, Asra loves surprises. So, so much. It's practically part of their love language at this point. They're constantly bringing you little surprise gifts - "I just saw this in the market and thought of you!" - or arranging little surprises for you! You'll come home from a long day at work to find that the upper floor of the shop has been transformed into the most relaxing place he could create, with oversized pillows and the fluffiest blankets strewn everywhere, and plenty of their best tea, and incense sticks burning a soothing scent, and just... everything they could think of.

Asra's favorite part of surprises is the reaction of the person receiving them. He lives for the look of surprised excitement, the way their eyes light up and the way they smile. It's addicting, and as absent-minded as our favorite magician can be, his favorite people are often on his mind whenever they see things that said people would like.

They also just enjoy surprising people in general, like showing up unannounced to bring them lunch or just hang out, and playfully spooking people from behind or popping out from behind something. That's one thing Asra and Faust have in common - both of them enjoy games and harmless pranks, and Asra is associated with the fox for a reason! You've lost count of how many times you wake up and roll out of bed only to end up in a magical sinkhole of pillows, or slip your shoes on only to find them, somehow, made of water, or misplace a book or something only to find it in the most unexpected place... The prank wars with Asra and Faust will be epic!

As for being the one getting the surprise, Asra absolutely adores it. They'll love anything you give them, truthfully, but they're a curious one - mention you're planning something and suddenly he's like a child impatiently trying to find their present before Christmas comes. Good luck hiding it with Faust around, too, because she can slip into the tiniest of places to search. Best to keep it quiet until you're ready.

Throw a surprise party for Asra's birthday. Chances are, he might've forgotten it, too - after all, I don't imagine Asra is one to keep track of dates very well, and the calendar he's got is almost always at least a month behind whenever it actually is. Invite all their friends, make a big deal out of it. Make them feel really special for once, because he is special!! Asra might feel a little embarrassed being the center of attention, but trust me, the reminder that they're loved and appreciated is well worth it.

Also, if you can give him random little gifts?? Perfection. It'll make Asra's entire day to know that you found something and thought of him - or, even better, made something for him. Your skill level doesn't matter, so long as it's done with love, Asra will see the beauty in it and cherish it forever.

Nadia

I don't think Nadia is one for surprises, at least, not in the beginning. She's the Countess of Vesuvia, she needs everything to go smoothly and she must be on top of everything at all times. Surprises stress her out. If you'd asked her earlier, she'd tell you she hates them. 'Surprise,' to her, means some sort of prank pulled on her by one of her many sisters, or some stunt Lucio has pulled, or something being wrong that she must attempt to fix, a courtier showing up unannounced to insist upon speaking with her. All negative things, nothing good ever comes from a surprise. That is... until she meets you.

You change things for her. Showing up unannounced is no longer an annoyance that she must make time for, but a pleasant moment she wasn't expecting. Bringing her gifts isn't something that must leave her mentally scrambling for political reasons, but a completely harmless, well-meaning gesture.

She doesn't even realize her perspective on surprises has shifted until you grab her by the hand and tug her gently towards a mystery destination, cheerfully informing her you have a surprise for her. Her shoulders instinctively tense at the word, but for once, she isn't dreading what you have in store - no, this time she's eager to see what it is you've prepared, and she feels the flutter of excitement in her chest for the first time as you lead her. Perhaps it's a soothing spa day you've arranged in that incredible pool-sized bath to help her relax, perhaps you're leading her to a secluded room for a little tea date, or maybe you're leading her outside to go and gaze at nature together - whatever it is, she will surely love it, and surprise takes on a different meaning for her.

On the other hand, Nadia is one who surprises you constantly, though she prefers not to think of it that way at first. She absolutely showers you in gifts, little tokens of her affection, and she often plans things for the two of you as well, surprising you with little trips to various places and the occasional date to go somewhere more special and intimate. She's a very busy woman, so she doesn't often have the time for much in the way of event planning, but she wants your company wherever it is she's going and does her best to make it enjoyable and not just... work. Impromptu stops are very common on these little trips, as she'll see somewhere that she'd like to show you or a cute little shop and pause the journey to go explore.

Writing Masterlist 🐝 Requests Open!  Tag List 🐝 

[taduki]

I couldn't see anything saying you're asks are closed so if they are apologizes ahead of time.

Could I get HC for the M6 with an MC with a phobia of balloons? Or more specifically sudden loud noises?

I.E the beginning of fireworks their a bit tense but slowly calm down since fireworks are constantly loud so they get used to it. Sudden thunder if they don't notice the lighting beforehand and of course the main offender balloons. I mean they can just pop without anyone touching them, their all ticking time bombs waiting to pop when you lest expect it. The loudness of parties and drunken singing is fine because it's constant not sudden.

Also by phobia I don't necessarily mean ptsd but more if it happens once or twice their fine but tense afterwards but too much and they will just need to leave or at least gain enough distance that the pop won't be as loud.

I’m sorry this took so long. It’s not that my box is full (it’s full of dust actually), I am just not skilled in comfort all, so I’m very sorry these are shorter and a little more lackluster than my usual headcanons but u wrote a long asf ask so I’ll still do my best, bb. ^^

M6 w/ an MC Who’s Afraid of Sudden Loud Noises

Asra

It’s possible Asra didn’t know of your phobia when you first met. If you opted to hide it, they would’ve discovered it when they brought you back and had to teach you everything again. It didn’t take him too long to figure out loud sounds really upset you. Except, they really did. You were ultra sensitive back then, so thunderstorms in a room where you couldn’t see the lightning had you wailing.

They found ways to calm you other than holding you and coaxing you to sleep (though he may have favored those methods). On days when you got paranoid of just hearing something that would send you flying, they found you a pair of earmuffs! They didn’t fully drown the sound out, but they cushioned the blow at least.

He could tell you were still somewhat uncomfortable though, so he studied up on a spell to tailor the earmuffs to be noise-canceling. They thought it would be easy but it was actually hard to find the spell and somehow administer the effect to affect the wearer - it was just complicated, but they managed for you…

Once you got used to your new body, the days were slightly easier.

It was not often you saw a balloon flying around Vesuvia. Until you wandered over to the traveling booths at the market and saw the horrors of big, bright balloons they had. You’ve had experiences with them, alright. Now, they’re floating in children’s hands like deadly bombs. A lot of them popped around you as you made it home and your poor heart was exhausted. As soon as you’ve even gotten near the shop, Asra’s run out like, “Are you okay?!” Lots of hugs and kisses that night, plus many squeezes from Faust.

If there happens to be rowdy children or just someone loud in the shop at the moment, Asra has a sign inside and outside the shop that politely asks customers to keep a quiet and clean environment. The customers wouldn’t really doing anything unlawful though, so Azz will just take the order over for you while you take a breather in the back room or upstairs.

Tosses anyone that yells at you out the shop. Dusts his hands clean afterward.

Julian

He holds you close whenever you’re scared or when you jump. He’s a big worry wart for you, so he’ll coddle you a bit. He knows he shouldn’t baby you so much though, so he’ll constantly ask if this is too muchhh or what else he can do for you.

Still loves to coddle you anyway.

Finds activities to distract you during thunderstorms if you find that works! Dancing is a rowdy and engaging activity that requires most of your attention to be on him. Plus! It wears you out to sleep through it when it storms through the night. He also has lots of pen and paper for writing or drawing as well as books to read.

When nothing he offers works for you, he’s willing to hold you tight and read you stories until you feel better.

He is not specialized in a psychiatric field but he considers that this fear might be coming from a place of pain that you have yet to heal from. He tries not to think too much about it because he doesn’t want to speculate something so vulnerable to you. When he thinks you’re both comfortable, he gently asks if you want to and if you’re ready to confront it with him or with a specialist. He definitely spent nights thinking about how best to bring it up…

He’s not very likely to be around balloons unless he goes with you to see a sick patient who has lots of flowers and balloons as get-well-soon gifts. So, unless you accompany him to many house calls, it’s highly unlikely you’ll have to deal with them!

Understands your concern anyway, and will respect your decision to step outside or even go home if needed.

Only ever teases and pokes you about leaving him alone. “Did you have too much fun without me?”, or “Did you miss meee? 🥺”

If someone yells at you, he goes full drama mode, keels over, and makes a BIG deal out of it like, “Oh, my poor, innocent lover! Disrespected by a poor bystander who didn’t know any better!” He is weeping. Please feel free to join him.

Portia

Unfortunately, she witnessed firsthand what loud sounds do to you. Throughout your encounters with the devil and his shenanigans, he was not afraid to take advantage of your panic and fear and Portia was smart about this. She’d go as far as to cover your ears while bracing for impact.

With the devil vanquished, life with her has been peaceful. Her cottage, for the most part, is very secluded and quiet, so it’s rare for something to get loud. The most that could startle you would be Pepi making a mess or Portia knocking over a dinner plate.

You’d always known balloons were awful experiences for you, and she has always been aware and careful around certain objects, except she didn’t think about balloons. She works many palace events, and if you choose to accompany her, you run the risk of encountering bundles of them! You were hesitant to stay after realizing how many they were, but she recognized your anxiety and pulled you over to a quiet corner.

She rubs your hands, covers your ears if you wish, and lets you calm down before asking if you’d like to stay somewhere quiet or return home. If you’d like to stay with her, she will come check up on you comically often, like you’ll see her pop her head into the room every thirty (30) minutes.

She also gives you her signature wink after telling you that you can take her away anywhere, anytime.

If you want to go home, she’ll understand, but miss you a lot. She keeps you in her thoughts whenever she’s busy. Like, “Aw MC would love the food here”, or “Hmm, I wonder what they’re up to without me”, and most of the time, you’re just relaxing or playing with Pepi. As soon as she gets home, she trudges through the house and a sleepy smile appears on her face when she spots you.

She also likes doing that thing to you where you cup your ears and then uncup them so it makes everything sound funny. She likes when it makes you smile.

Nadia

She’s fine with holding you when you’re scared. Fluster her a bit by hugging her for a lot longer than you needed to. She’ll keep patting your back like, “Are they okay now?”, but she won’t mind at all.

The library is a great space to avoid loud noises. People are rarely allowed in there, so the chances of someone interrupting your peace is highly unlikely. Whenever someone comes it, it’s usually Nadia or Portia and they know to open the doors slowly when you’re in there.

Many doors in the palace are giant and heavy. If left to close or slam, they will definitely be loud. Nadia has asked that those doors have door stoppers installed on them. Honestly, she should’ve thought of this when Lucio had his “slam every door dramatically open and closed” phase…

Nadia has many, many other quiet places around the palace, including her contemplation tower. She is not hesitant to invite you.

You’re unfortunately much more likely to encounter balloons when going out with Nadia. Yes, there are the occasional disguised getaways when you go out to the market with her, but Nadia formally appears at many events, festivals, and so on. She is comes very prepared, though!

Asra came over for an afternoon tea time and suggested the earmuffs. It’s very possible they didn’t tell you how you used to use them before you got better, so they’re very patient and explain how it works. They hope it works for loud events like firework nights, when you and Nadia would like to be with each other.

Nadia keeps a look out for quiet spots to get away in when you two are out.

She also tries not to flinch at loud noises to show you not to be afraid and that you are both able to protect yourselves.

If you believe your fear might be deep rooted in your past, she gently offers if you need anyone professional to talk to when you’re ready. She also recommends if you’d like to ask Asra about this. She is willing to listen to you whenever you’re ready to talk, and often reminds you not to be afraid of ruining a moment or anything like that.

If you were ever in a meeting and someone yelled at you, Nadia would swiftly hold her hand up to hush them, and glare while she asks them to keep the conversation in a professional manner. If they cannot handle that, she would ask them to leave. She claims there is no good way to do business with someone who feels the need to disregard anothers’ fears to get their words across.

Muriel

Arcana bless the forest in which Muriel lives…

It is so very quiet in this neck of the woods. It is like a paradise… Until thunderstorms come through.

Muriel was not aware this was such a big problem for you at first. You got scared a couple of times fighting the devil and his tricks, but you had to think quick and had no time to panic. The entire journey with Morga and back, you did not go through a single thunderstorm, so he did not even take them into consideration. The hut doesn’t exactly have many open windows either, so no lightning meant no warning.

As soon as he sees you freak out, he’s put his stuff down and is crouched beside you. When you’re able to explain, he opens one small window facing away from the wind so you can see and sits down in front of the fire with a fluffy blanket. He’ll wait for you to come sit by him, in his lap, or however you want, and drape the blanket over you. He holds onto you just a bit closer whenever he sees lightning so he can prepare you.

After the first storm, he put some thin pieces of cloth on each window so you can still see light through them even when it’s raining. He’ll still hold you whenever you like.

It’s no secret he hates going into town though, and typically asks you to go whenever something is needed, so he was not there for the barrage of helium-filled bombs that graced your ears one day. When you got home, you plonked yourself right into his arms and sighed. After he gets over the initial shock of having you placed so carelessly on him, he pats your back and hugs you. He’ll only wait until you’re ready to talk about it, and he’ll be there the whole time listening to you.

Does not have the capability to say anything inconsiderate towards your fear. He most likely has some form of PTSD from the colosseum and can somewhat relate, so he can empathize with you.

Begrudgingly goes into town with you just in case the mean balloons get you again…

Lucio

Lucio by HIMSELF is loud.

One of his more refined talents is observing physical tells. He grew up in a tribal setting, so it was part of his survival. He’s definitely noticed your fear, even if you’ve tried to hide it. He’s also definitely made fun of it before.

That was when you first met him, though. Now that you’ve started a life with him, he’s been getting used to apologizing a little more. Except, he eventually realized he said one or two things back then that might’ve really hurt you. He’s unsure of how to go about it or bring it up to you, so he just blurts out, “I’m sorry I made fun of you for being scared.”

You’re hella confused.

He explains the couple of times you’ve gotten scared in the past and what exactly he said and tries his best to apologize for it. If you forgive him he’ll be very relieved and hold you as his way of saying he won’t do it again and he’ll do his best to help when you get scared. If you still need some time to forgive him, he’ll be a little confused, but he’ll have to accept it was a soft spot for you that shouldn’t have been poked fun at. He will still comfort you when necessary.

His way of comforting is a little rusty, but he’s got the spirit! He’ll put himself in your line of vision and tell you, “It will not hurt you.”

He keeps trying to like, hold you or put his hand on your shoulder, but he can’t tell when you want him to touch you, so he’s just jumping back and forth. (Definitely tries to cheer you up by exaggeratedly jumping back and forth). He’s working on slow and soft movements when you’re like this.

Another way of curbing the loud noise is that he’ll wave his hands around and get loud to distract you. He’s trying to help you get comfortable with it by associating himself with the noise.

Someone yells at you? He yells back at them louder! And then turns right around to coo at you in his arms.

~~~

Shameless plug to another hc I did that’s similar to this one. If you didn’t find anything you liked here, you might find something here!

[apriltearsbringmayfears]

Can I please request how the main 6 would propose to MC? And what would they do if MC started crying happy tears? Thank you!

~ M6 Proposing to MC - MC Crying Happy Tears ~

Thank you for the request!! I really appreciate it <3 

Asra:

You two are visiting Asra's Gateway, the pond glittering with color

His hand is firmly holding yours, his thumb going in circles

"You know, MC...I'm really glad we're in each other's lives. Despite already being a magician, I never thought life could get any more magical until I met you "

You can tell he's nervous as he stands in front of you, going down on one knee

"Will you grant me the honor of continuing the magic with me?"

You say yes, happy tears beginning to flow

Asra stands up and cups your face, wiping a tear off your cheek

Tears are forming in his eyes, "I'm so glad I'm yours, MC"

Nadia:

Most recently, there was some new infrastructure built in Vesuvia, therefore a celebration is being held at the palace

Amongst the joyful chaos, she takes a sip of white wine, makes direct eye contact with you, and leans over, her lips brushing your ear

“My love, can we speak on the balcony please?”

It's just you, her, and the sparkling night sky

“MC...you make me a better leader and in turn Vesuvia a stronger city...”, her cheeks turn red

“There’s no one else I’d want to rule alongside, to grow old with...”, she takes both of your hands and holds them up to her chest

“Will you grow old with my love? Will you marry me?”

You say yes and begin crying

She smiles gently, pulling you to her chest

“There, there my love”, she wipes away a tear, replacing it with a gentle kiss

“We have another thing to celebrate now”

Julian:

You and Julian are traveling overseas

It's early morning, and Julian wasn't able to get much sleep

He tossed and turned all night like he was worried about something

You are both out on the deck of the ship watching the sunrise, a beautiful ombre of orange and lavender

His hand is in his pocket, fiddling with something, "This sunrise is beautiful, an amazing start to an adventure. wouldn't you agree, MC?"

Next thing you know, he's on one knee. The sunrise behind him acts like a halo over his head "Will you marry me, MC?"

You say yes, tears beginning to slip

He touches his forehead to yours, a tear rolling down his cheek as well

"I can't wait for our next adventure"

Muriel:

It's a cold day, you and Muriel are snuggled in front of a fire

Inanna begins poking her nose at Muriel, she has something in her mouth

Muriel is telling her to drop it, getting annoyed

A small black box bounces out of her mouth and onto the floor, landing in front of the fireplace

Muriel goes wide-eyed, his ears going red

He tries to say something but he can’t form the words

Inanna barks and wags her tale

Muriel takes a deep breath, grabs the box, and looks at you, happy tears already forming in your eyes

This isn’t what he planned but seeing you on the verge of happy tears sparks something in him

He eases a little, scooting closer to you, "Well...for years I thought being alone was what I was destined for...I-I'm glad you proved that wrong. Will you marry me MC? I'm sorry this isn't what I originally plann-"

You envelop him in a hug, he doesn't need to apologize

Portia:

Portia decided to take you on an all-day date

She made you breakfast, took you shopping at the local market, and visited a local garden, the last thing on the list is a picnic under the stars

You can tell she’s up to something

You two are finishing up some cookies, enjoying the view

You notice from the corner of your eye that she’s looking at you, desperately fumbling in her pocket

“MC, I’m glad we can enjoy nights like this together...though the view of you beats any star in the sky”, she pulls out a small beautifully decorated handmade box

“Will you continue to be my star for the rest of our lives? MC, will you marry me?”, there are tears forming in her eyes already

You say yes, beginning to cry as well

She tackles you in a hug, both of you on the ground

You wipe each other's tears off, laughing lightly and feathering each other with kisses

Lucio:

Lucio always dresses nice but today he is dressed nice, he spent extra time making sure his hair was perfect today

As far as you know, there isn’t any special occasion-

Until he pulls out an amazing-looking outfit, handmade that he commissioned for you

“Sweetheart! I just found out about a little celebration happening at a new restaurant that just opened. I know Nadia and Asra will be there, figured we could go check it out”, he grins

You both get there and he seats himself at the head of the table, with you seated next to him

After some chatter between you and everyone else, Lucio stands up “Thank you everyone for coming out tonight, as you know I have something special planned-”

He turns towards you, extending his hand and taking yours, “My darling MC, you have made my life infinitely better and there’s no one else in this universe better suited for me...Will you marry me?” 

You begin to cry and say yes, your friends clapping in the background

At first, he’s a little worried about why you’re crying, but Nadia elbows him and whispers that they are indeed, happy tears

He pulls you near him while grabbing a wine glass in his other hand

“Now let’s celebrate, to MC and I!”

[mokijimon]

Doodle of boo before the plague! (+ short hair teen asra)

Boo was a traveler! He has been traveling since he was 15 with his mother, who later would die with old age. Boo would continue traveling just to continue in her footsteps but he was incredibly lonely in his journey.

Then boo met little asra (14 yo) and muriel (19 yo) at the age of 20, he decided to stay at vesuvia to look after them.

His mother was a dancer and a magician, and so he loves both of those and grew up to be good at it.

He does little dance shows in the market to get coins and when he had enough he opened up our shop in the game!

I love boo so much, he's one of the character I obsess over while in highschool. Went through some changes but I love how he turned out in the end ^////^

[snobgoblin]

🍎💛 for the emoji ask!

x THANK YOU! sorry this took a hot minute I just got off work and settled

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

➼ he was born in Vesuvia! yeah he still lives there but not quite the same place. like he was born in the South End but now he lives in the Center City. he actually doesn't know that so he doesn't think anything of it but he's curious about the South End. as far as he knows he's never been there, he's heard there's a really interesting market but the stories kind of scare him out of it

💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?

➼ okay I'm gonna preface this by saying I know it's a fantasy world and everything and the devs have said "there's no real life equivalents to the languages spoken" but there's obvious CODING at play so I'm just going to refer to the languages by their real life counterparts for simplicity (also like. Vesuvia is enough of a melting pot that I don't think "Vesuvian" would be a single language you could even pinpoint- with that said theres very obvious Italian coding in a lot of the names of people we know are from Vesuvia, or can reasonably assume they are (Prospero, Spada, Valerius, Volta)) ANYWAY

➼his native language is Italian, and he doesn't really speak other languages. not enough to carry on a conversation anyway, (like he can't understand Mazelinka when she's speaking Russian/the salt flat dialects, but he can read SOME of Julian's letter to Portia. so like he's picked up things here and there but nothing that I'd say he's anything but monolingual <- trait taken from in game) and also, I think they mention in game that the player can read some of Asras parents books, but not very much, so he probably knows some Arabic as well

➼ as for if he's going to learn any new languages, he would like to but he isn't sure where to start. in this case, the languages he ends up learning depends on the route, since he'd end up learning the language his partner speaks. like he learns Russian with Julian or Portia's route and German with Lucio's route etc- probably even more for characters that know a lot of languages (like Nadia and Julian)

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: First Date Headcanons

To set the scene: Nearly a month has passed since that fateful Masquerade. Things are being rebuilt. The city is growing and improving. And there have been many, many celebrations, both large and small. But our heroes have hardly gotten any chance to rest. So the M6 finally decided to take things into their own hands...

Nadia, Portia, and Chimalus

There was never a shortage of fancy events for the three of them to share.

When you’re dating (and/or engaged to) the Countess, those tend to happen.

And the trio snuck off to quieter corners of the palace as often as they could (which was never often enough)

But with both Nadia and Chimalus in high demand for their various areas of expertise, and Portia's new Chamberlain title keeping her busy, there wasn’t time for a real, true date.

Not until Portia made it happen.

Portia spent weeks silently gathering information in her scant free time

All to plan the perfect getaway: a day out on the town in “disguises” (otherwise known as casual clothes)

Because the two loves of her life absolutely need a day out without any stuffed-up nobles breathing down their necks.

Portia knows the Vesuvian markets better than almost anyone, so once she knows what she’s looking for, she easily finds the best possible places to stop.

After visits to museums, watching a street performance, and going on an amazing shopping spree, the trio ended the day at a bookshop in the Heart District.

(Because out of all the things the three of them have in common, the greatest is their love of reading)

And right next to the book shop was an adorable little tea shop.

They spent far too long in there, chatting about the books they just purchased and draining an entire teapot between the three of them.

Of course, they could always just have tea in the palace. But the atmosphere was so cozy, and even at the shop’s busiest, the chatter is almost soothing.

Plus this shop had such cute teacups, and so many teas that Nadia has never heard of, and delicious little pastries and tea cakes… After that night, the shop become one of the trio’s favorite places to visit.

They always enjoy their time there.

(And all the people working at the tea shop very politely pretend that they don’t recognize the Countess herself under her scarf.)

Asra and Meleia

Asra was eager to plan the whole event.

He wanted the date to be both relaxing and full of all the things that Meleia adored. It was what she deserved after they defeated the Devil together and finally had room to breathe.

So he made her favorite meal, and did his best to recreate the moment of their first kiss: the beginning of the Masquerade, right after dealing with the Lazaret.

The two of them were out on the water, sharing a beautiful moment under the fireworks.

Of course, for this date, they were the only ones who took a boat out that night. And instead of fireworks, Asra used his magic to create a dazzling display of lights in the sky.

Some of the images were so tightly timed together that it looked like animation. Particularly animation of two very familiar-looking figures dancing among the stars.

Inspired, Meleia invited him to dance the moment they got to the shore.

The two of them never needed any music to dance together.

Julian and Damian

According to Damian, the two of them have gone on a lot of dates.

Grabbing coffee right before work? A date.

Unwinding in the Rowdy Raven after an especially long day? A date.

Accidentally wandering into one of the town’s many celebrations and playing music together? A date!

They’ve had so many of these moments that Damian declared dates that now Julian is determined to take him on an actual date.

He’s even more determined to do it right.

And to fill it with everything Damian enjoys.

So he makes a plan.

Step one: clean up the little garden that he and Damian used as a hiding spot when Julian was still on the run from the guards and use it as a picnic spot.

Step two, serenade him with an original song.

Step three, take him to the most romantic community theater show possible.

Step four, celebrate their successful date with fancy drinks.

Of course, none of it quite goes according to plan.

The garden is somehow messier than it was before, the original song is half-finished, and the show was a bit more melodramatic than advertised.

At least the drinks were good.

But honestly, as far as Damian was concerned, all the little mishaps just made the whole thing more endearing.

(And Julian's unfinished song granted the perfect opportunity for him to get out his guitar when they got home and help Julian finish writing it)