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shore-of-co-stars · 3 months ago

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The entire journey home is a daze for Rubio, feeling as if he's blinked from the path down to the market, and has suddenly found himself in front of a small mud-brick home.

He's not disappointed, though. That's exactly what he hoped for.

The house still has a few golden lights on, compared to the surrounding houses which are silent and still, almost blending in with the sandscapes all around. But those little golden lights, shining through his windows... again, exactly what he hoped for.

The man steps into the home, a subtle warmth engulfing him. Frizzy black hair bounces up over the couch as Razzie sits up and turns around. Her red eyes light up with joy as Rubio walks in.

"Rubio!!!" She exclaims, vaulting over the couch and into Rubio's arms. There's no hesitation on her husband's end, not as he swiftly kicks the door closed before she tackles him, and not as he wraps his arms around her just as tight and hugs her with every fiber of his being.

The love floods through both of their exhausted bodies, filling their tired minds with a sense of solace and ease. It's been a long day... but finally, they're back in each other's arms. Razzie's tail wags wildly as she giggles softly into Rubio's chest, before leaning up and kissing him.

"Ohhh, it's been such a day.... I missed you, Rubi, I was thinking about you all day," she confessed, a hint of melodrama in her voice.

Rubio's face clouds slightly with pink. "I have, too... it's good to see you, Razzie, I missed you. A lot..."

"How much?"

"It was a struggle to not come home sooner, that's how much."

Something about his voice sparks concern within Razzie. She looks him up and down, swiping her hand over the stubborn fire stain on Rubio's cheek that he just couldn't get off. He almost seems to melt in her touch, eyes fluttering closed.

"... Rubi, honey, you look so tired, what happened...?" She asks.

Where do I even begin? Rubio wants to say. However, his legs are starting to shake from the exhaustion hitting him all at once.

His words are soft and small. "... can we go to the couch please...?" He whispers.

Razzie smiles softly and nods. "Sure."

The distance is only a few steps, hardly even. Yet, as soon as Razzie sits and lowers Rubio onto the couch as well, he seems to collapse and rest his head in her lap, face against her stomach as his limbs go limp.

"Do you want your caps?" Razzie asks, rubbing her hand along his face. At his nod, Razzie leans forward and grabs a small ceramic dish from the coffee table, one filled with about ten rubbery foam caps. She continues to speak while carefully sticking one on each of Rubio's fingers.

"Wanna talk about today...?" She asks.

"... it was... very emotionally charged."

Razzie noticeably pauses before continuing, the fingers she's already capped now helping to put the rest on. "You've never described a work day as 'emotionally charged'. Did something happen?"

Rubio turns so his head is facing up at his wife. "It was the first day of the apprenticeship I told you about."

She gets ready to wince. "How badly did it go....?"

".... it actually went very well."

Razzie blinks in surprise. "... it... it did?!" she exclaims a little louder than she meant.

Rubio nods. "He actually showed up, and was willing to do the work. There was an outburst, as I predicted... but he was able to work through it with some guidance," he explains.

Razzie's grin grows, her tail thumping slightly against Rubio's torso. "That's great, then!!"

Rubio nods. "It also went... not great, in some ways."

"... how so?"

There's a small pause before Rubio finally admits, "He doesn't know he's in a computer."

The woman pauses. "... he doesn't?"

"No, he mentioned something about 'Purgatory'... which, I'd assume is some religious term."

Razzie nods. "It's just, like, the middle ground between Heaven and Hell.... not good, not terrible. Or something like that, I haven't heard it in a long time."

"Regardless, I briefly tried to explain it to him. That I'm an AI, and we're in a digital world... he didn't understand, though. And I dropped the subject."

As Rubio speaks, all his fingers are finally capped off, and he wraps his arms and fingers around Razzie's waist as comfortably as he can for her, eyes remaining closed under her touch. Every word feels like a hike in his lungs, barely making their way out. The only thing truly keeping him awake right now is the experience of talking with the only one who knows everything about him.

Razzie's expression is solemn as she swipes her fingers over her husband's face. "... I'm sorry, honey... I know you hate having to say that," she whispers.

Rubio shrugs. "I say it when I must. I'd rather not try fooling anyone as a human... I'm simply not. And it's easier to accept than trying to convince others that I am.... or trying to convince myself."

A small lump forms in Razzie's throat as she nods. How she hates when they have to discuss this subject, and how she has to hear any life be sucked out of Rubio's voice while he restates what they both know.

"... did anything else happen...?" She asks, trying to change the subject.

"... I think I... what's the phrase... hit a nerve. There was a discussion about his apprenticeship and how long it was, and who it was meant for... and I told him honestly. I get very little out of this. It was all for him. And... he happened to get emotional."

Razzie forces a small chuckle. "Oh boy... I know how you feel about that..."

"It wasn't entirely unpleasant, there were no others around. I think it may have been in a positive light as well, which is.... reassuring, I suppose. I have confidence he'll be returning tomorrow."

"Good...! And the commission...?"

The shadow of a relief crosses over Rubio's face. "Almost finished. I should be done by the weekend."

"Yay!!" Razzie leans down, cradling Rubio's head and planting a gentle kiss over his forehead. She smiles more feeling his face heat up subtly from her affection. "I'm looking forward to having my husband back for the evenings, it's so lonely here...."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it as well... I do not enjoy dinner away from home."

Razzie nods, and the two sit in content silence for a short while. Rubio feels as if he's about to pass out on the spot, but he's not quite ready for that yet.

"How about you...? How has your day been, Razzie...?" He asks softly.

The woman beams a bit. She loves when he talks like that to her... but as she thinks about her day, her smile fades.

"It... wasn't bad..." she responds quietly, looking away. Rubio pauses and slowly sits up, head raising from his wife's lap and eyes shooting open.

"That means it wasn't good. Who was it. What happened." Rubio asks, a deadly familiar tone rising in his voice. Razzie quickly puts her hands on his shoulders.

"No no no, don't get upset, just... a few men who wouldn't leave me alone..."

"Were they talking about your body? Your laugh?"

"Rubi..."

"Razzie. Answer me. Please."

The two stare into each other's eyes for a silent, tense few seconds before the woman's slowly lower and she nods.

"... a guard on the street came to my aid when they wouldn't leave me alone. Threatened them and everything. And when they left, one of them said something like 'how could you date someone with a laugh like that?'... sorta said off-hand that I'm for the streets..."

Rubio remains silent, staring at Razzie as she purses her lips together.

"It's alright, you know I get those comments a lot..."

"... so not only do they have the idiocy to stare at you in a disgusting way... they also have the audacity to insult you when they actively tried to get you."

Razzie nods. An alert, sharp gleam returns to Rubio's eyes as he slowly exhales, expression darkening. His voice is low and dangerous.

"You know I can't let them go unpunished for that."

"Rubi, honey, don't harm them, please..."

"They said what they said. Filthy hypocrites, they are, and nothing more. I can make them regret it. Let me make them regret it."

".... just a warning? Please?"

"Only a warning?"

Razzie adjusts herself to face him better, taking his fingers in her hands. "Because if they do it again, you can say you warned them. It was their choice to not heed it... and whatever happens will be their fault. Please? For me?"

Rubio pauses before slowly relaxing, the muted anger screaming in his mind ebbing away as he sighs. "Okay. I'll give them the warning tomorrow. Leave a paper of their appearances and details before I leave, okay...?"

Razzie nods. "I will... thank you, honey," she sighs.

"There's no need to. I may not like to publicly show it. But you... all of you..."

He brushes a stray hair out of her face, taking hold of her waist.

"Your body. Your love. Your laugh. No one gets to insult any of it. And no one gets to have you, in all of your beauty, awe, and wit... no one except me. Right?"

A small smile and giggle escapes Razzie's lips as she nods. "I'm all yours. And you're all mine. Forever."

Rubio slowly leans forward and kisses Razzie softly, eyes closing. "There we go. There's that beautiful smile and laugh." His words elicit more flustered giggles as Razzie kisses him back, the two locked together in that state for a few seconds before pulling back. Rubio's face, while not deviating from his often blank expression, is still full of ease and tranquility as he stares into his wife's eyes.

"I love you, Razzie."

She beams in turn, tail wagging excitedly.

"I love you too, Rubio... now come on. It's late. Let's get you cleaned up, you smell like fire"

"I always smell like fire," Rubio replies, standing.

"You smell more than usual. And there's soot on the couch now- I'll clean it up tomorrow, don't worry."

"I have no doubt you will. Thank you, Razzie."

Razzie, again, smiles brightly at Rubio as he squeezes her hand gently. And the two walk down the hall, to the bathroom, finally content to be back with each other after the long day.

#dancingwiththehyena #rubyblades

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exhaling-dust · 2 months ago

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The Primordial Truth of Everything

—-Disciple.—- It utters into his mind. —-Why have you waited for us?—- “Should I not, my dear Witness?” Nezarec flourishes back, his teeth bright for its watch. “I want to give you a gift for all your lessons and blessed handiwork.” Even kilometers afar, its eyes narrow and its ego bloats.

nezarec/the witness, 3,876 words, rated E: dead dove + erotica. read it here on AO3, or have a snippet of it:

Under the crimson sun, an Acolyte Tirnean hovers beside their master whose colorful tendrils hide beneath a mantle of Darkness. Narai, their collective name, is the one Nezarec has found invested in commissioning a mythological poem—a gift, if he muses, for the eventful night which shall come earlier in his patience: a celebration of the second god to ever dive in these Ahktirnean sands and oceans, promising hope and knowledge to the fraught and orphaned. There is no need for their uprising from their environment, but Nezarec enjoys their sacrifice; it’s a sweet tidbit for his teeth.

A nearing Ahkan colossus sights him with narrow broad shoulders. She should understand better of Nezarec’s intentions than to judge a different shape of ambition.

“Terror-evoke,” Narai relays dryly and voice pained, “do we have permission to ask?”

“I have never once said otherwise,” Nezarec says with great humor, “what is your doubt?”

Narai stops in their pace, exhaustion wearing them useless. The colossus approaches and is paused by the Acolyte’s demand.

“Who is that which drives you to benevolence upon Ahktir, whom you name as ‘Witness’?”

Nezarec leans his enormous height towards the Tirnean and smiles with bare teeth. He resumes his steps towards the vast limitations between sand and rocks, dragging his follower to quell a small, easy-fading hunger. “It is a beautiful thing far beyond the knowledge of your kind, my Acolyte. In time, you may know it. Perhaps even face it closely.”

A cold sun has never let the second sky be safe again once the Pyramid arrived. Amidst the vast sandscape, its overbearing geometrical shape is far alien from the columns of stone and glass. Unfortunate are those who cross it by reasons of fate and find only a harrowing, crushing terror in their brain, etched forever.

Nezarec oversees the great Ahktirnean canyons. In the mountains afar, white and crystalline for the mere eye to see, a great beast uprises from sand and into existence under the cold sun’s light, and its empty eyes find Nezarec in the sharp distance.

—-Disciple.—- It utters into his mind. —-Why have you waited for us?—-

“Should I not, my dear Witness?” Nezarec flourishes back, his teeth bright for its watch. “I want to give you a gift for all your lessons and blessed handiwork.”

Even kilometers afar, its eyes narrow and its ego bloats.

The Witness sprints towards the Pyramid in a velocity no feline can match. A cloud of tempestuous smoke with senseless faces trails the path behind and renounces: another god has landed in Ahktir; a quieter, insincere, and far more terrible than Terror-evoke himself. Those who see are unfortunate—they will always carry the myth of its soundbreaking race as an ill omen moments before a tragedy or the complete fall of their civilization. However, Nezarec is awed. He was heard.

What a spectacle it is—to have it running to his feet! The Final God of Pain observes with pure glee his creator stepping at the beginning of the Pyramid and hiking its sleek surface with a thousand claws, its ascension vicious to what it waits between the clouds.

The Pyramid permits its entrance as one weapon obeys its blacksmith’s will, and so the Witness disappears from Nezarec’s sight. He grins, turns on his feet, and relishes the exhilaration of its pressure in his presence—the same empty eyes in the darkness observe Nezarec’s intentions before his changed, more fashioned shape, and judgment… always persist. If only it had not a layer of malice neatly embroidered in its unbreath.

—-Speak.—-

“Don’t you prefer to ask about my plans within this planet, or belittle me as you often do?”

—-Speak, Disciple.—-

“I see,” Nezarec says amused, and paces to the nearest bowl of sour beans. Plucks one with mouth; wraps a seed around his tongue. “What do you prefer first: the Ahktirneans’ precise method to foresee where the Traveler hides now, or what was its last whisper for them?”

The Witness narrows its gaze. Closest to a flicker. Relays nothing; expects Nezarec to act his job.

Yet Nezarec refuses, savoring this small failure in its perfect projection, a crack he can pry at.

Is in the lack of answers that it presents itself: four-legged, four-armed, a thorned tail resembling its prior serpentine form, and clouds where its collective conveys not a single memory from the past. Its shape fibrillates in small pieces of an unending puzzle, though much of it looks smooth and touchable. Dire in its eyes, the Witness is taller than the Final God of Pain with all his tendrils behind the mantle. Divine in its posture for total certainty, yet not a deity: only a petty creature wounded.

He approaches it without care for his own form dismantling under its familiar pressure.

“My Witness,” he starts, “I recognize myself to not be your most perfect creation. I do, truly. But I also can’t whisk away the fragility in your stare. What is it that burdens you?”

Its stance hardens, incapable of understanding where this tone surfaced from.

—-We do not have time for debauchery. The seeds you have planted now bear fruits, yet do you cultivate that which you started?—-

“I thought you would focus on important matters. Last time I tried, you burned them into ashes and left me starving as a punishment for the crime of indulgence. Are you finally proud of what I have achieved?” Nezarec eats the rest of the beans, one by one before its silence. “Hm, it doesn't matter, then. If it’s this people’s knowledge you seek, then I have found something precious.”

The Witness stops pacing, so does Nezarec.

“I know you will kill me for this blasphemy, but they are such a mirror of what you were, my love.”

It paces forth to him, its height imperious and defying and its hands reaching out to his chest. Strings pulled—the puppet in its mercy.

—-Be succinct.—-

“No—undoing me again? Does it not tire you?”

—-Prevent repetition in failure and we preserve your unstill shape. Prevent failure, and your matters may not fall in our palms.—-

Nezarec’s flesh slices in fillets as he holds the Witness’ wrist with tenderness.

“I respect your impatience, but I think you are the one thwarting your own plans.” He brushes two thumb bones in its sleek surface and tugs the Witness into himself. “Could you give me a vow of trust and let me show what is the secret hidden within this civilization?”

The Witness stares at his audacity, though his sincerity is not coated in irony. Nezarec means what he says—he only cannot help the mock from sliding out and into this world they inhabit.

It pulls its hands out, leaving its Disciple’s insides scrambled but carcass intact for the first time. Nezarec finds it flattering. Means its ire has quelled in the face of his devotion|obedience.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 fanfic #writing #fanfiction #nezarec #the witness #exhaling fics!

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