#since drabble isn't on there

[goth1c-pinki3-pi3]

James checks that no one is in the corridor when he goes into the unused classroom, and opens the map. “I solemnly swear I'm up to no good,”.

The map opens, showing everyone in the castle, but there was only one name James was focusing on. Regulus Black. Smirking, he checks to make sure Regulus is alone.

He’s at the black lake, closer to the forbidden forest than hogwarts. James smiles and wonders if he has his sketchbook with him, if Regulus was sitting there sketching plants and animals from the forest.

Putting on his invisibility cloak, James quickly mutters “mischief managed,” and closes the map before he runs off to the lake trying not to giggle like a love sick ten year old.

Slowing down as he gets closer to the lake, James spots Regulus. He did indeed have his sketchbook like James had thought, but he wasn’t using it. He seemed asleep, peaceful.

James slipped off his cloak, folding it and setting it next to Regulus’ sketchbook. Setting the map on the cloak, James takes off his glasses and puts them on top of the map.

Looking at Regulus’ face, he wishes he kept his glasses on for a little bit longer to imprint his face into his memory. Sighing wistfully, James admires Regulus a little longer.

Pushing himself back, James lays his head on Regulus’ lap. Placing his hand into Regulus’ hand, James thinks that nothing can go wrong. That he’d be content to stay there forever.

Laying down with his Reggie.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I like, vaguely spell and grammar checked this. English is my first language but not my best. I wrote all this down in class, my B for the mistakes, don't bring up my mistakes.

[lovesickeros]

☆ glimpse of divinity

{☆} characters lyney, neuvillette [ separate ] {☆} notes cult au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 0.8k

× neuvillette

The first time he sees you strolling the streets of Fontaine with a glint of wonder in your eyes, he thinks he must have finally lost it. He has to rub his eyes and check a few dozen times before he's certain that you are, in fact, real and not some figment of his imagination conjured by a lack of sleep and overdose on caffeine.

..Though now that he gets a better look, it's not quite the same. Like a smudged painting, he thinks. Still, the uncanny resemblance to the visage of the Divine One has him lingering around the area just to stare a little longer, a deep, devoted sense of affection bristling beneath his skin.

And then you turn sharply on your heel, staring directly back at him, and he feels a sudden wave of embarrassment and something akin to shame.

Archons, he'd just made a fool of himself, hadn't he?

He quickly turns away, clearing his throat and hiding his embarrassment behind his hand. Though it does not seem to deter you, the soft tap of your shoes growing closer until you were peering up at him with wide eyes.

"..Hello." He offers awkwardly, a little too stiff and a little too formal, but you don't seem to mind in the slightest. He knows that your appearance, your vague similarities to the Divine One are mere coincidence, but it does not stop his heart from skipping a beat when you smile up at him. "I– apologize for being so uncouth and staring, it's just.."

His voice trails off into a breathy exhale, his hand twitching on his cane as if he wanted to reach out and touch you..but he restrains himself in time. He could not make a bigger fool of himself – he would never hear the end of it from lady Furina.

"You remind me of someone."

He decides, readjusting his hands on his cane as he bows his head for a moment is a show of genuineness, though it must look awkward with how stiff his body feels.

Yet he cannot help but want to get closer anyway, to hear the silky lilt of your voice grace his pointed ears. This is as close as he will ever get to the Divine..he is a weak man, he finds, as he offers a hand to you.

"I understand if this is a bit..forward, but would you mind joining me for tea?"

× lyney

He is a master magician – his entire work is built on keen misdirection and sleight of hand, but even he stumbles for a minute thinking he'd seen an illusion in your warm smile and striking features. Almost an exact copy of the Divine One, yet not quite..

Still, it's enough to pique his interest – enough, too, to give him the confidence to slip into your conversation with ease, all smiles and the slip of a card between his fingers.

"Hello, stranger – I don't think I've seen you in Fontaine before," He laughs, his hand reaching around to rest gently on your opposite shoulder, his voice a ghost of a whisper in your ear. "Say, could I interest you in a bit of magic?"

He perks up at the way you seem to light up like fireworks at his offer, a spark almost like recognition in your eyes he brushes aside – he's quite well known, after all.

"Good! Now, if I may just borrow your attention for a minute.." He grins, stepping around you and turning sharply to face you, his hand outstretched with a deck of cards in his hands, face down. "Let's start simple, shall we? I shan't overwhelm my audience – pick a card."

He holds the cards out again, his features twisted in something like awe, though he hides it well.

His heart flutters at the briefest of glances of your hand against his as you pluck a card from his hand, and he quickly retracts it, reshuffling the deck with a broad grin and a wink.

"Do your best to remember it! If you could return it to the deck.." The card is placed back in it's place amongst the rest, and the magic begins!

"Now then, let's see..hm," He hums for a long moment, the silence filled by the constant shuffle of cards until he suddenly plucks one from the deck, flipping it around for you to see. "Is this your card?"

He frowns when you shake your head, almost pouting, before he lights up again and steps forward.

"Ah! How foolish of me, I missed it..it's riiight here, see." He winks, reaching behind your ear..and pulls free a card from seemingly thin air. He flips it around for you to see again, and when you tell him it is, in fact, your card, he flips it around again.

And before you can see it, he's holding a rainbow rose between his fingers, his hand outstretched as he bows.

His eyes glint with a sort of wonder as he looks at your features, his smile widening a fraction.

"Well, dear stranger? Did you enjoy the show?"

[spotaus]

New Age AU (An Order to Things)

Hello hello and welcome back! I... write the first part of this like a month ago and then came back and wrote the rest over the past few days! Ancha and I were talking about getting some perspective on the rest of the Castle while Night is still adjusting to his new body, so here we are! A little mash-up of what the Knights have been doing on a regular day only a little while in to Night being small!

no edits, no rereads, fuck it we ball!

(@ancha-aus @mutzelputz and @papiliovolens hello again! Hope you don't mind the random @ and as always if it gets annoying just lemee know and I'll cease hehe!)

Oh, and a bonus shout-out to Ancha because I would've completely fumbled an entire section here, but she recalled something from one of my many strange rambles and saved my life in the lore continuity department :]

“Is everyone here?” Dust’s voice was steady and cut through the chatter of the room.

Horror watched as heads turned to face Dust, where he stood at the ‘front’ of the room. The room was actually curved, a nice oval that allowed a long, round, bar-like table to curve along the outskirts and sit up to fifty people along its run. Across from where Dust was standing was the door. Where Dust stood now, well, that was usually where the King sat. They had shifted the ornate seat back and away for the time being, since no one thought it’d be right for Dust to sit in it. Even if he was filling in for Nightmare today. 

Those seated, they were Nightmare’s council. Some seats had been barren since before Horror had arrived, a lot had been filled since then, Killer had told them that the population had seen a steep decline after he showed up. From what Horror had heard, it was probably for the best that it had been rebuilt almost from scratch. The council now was made up largely of common people. Monsters and Humans, each a representative from their own cities and townships who had both been chosen by their people and screened by the King himself. They weren’t proper or well-spoken sometimes, but they always seemed to have their people’s best interests at heart, so he figured the king didn’t mind it much. Actually, maybe their informal habits made them all the more appealing to him? Horror could never quite tell. Besides, he usually wasn’t present for these unless the farming representatives were present, and today they seemed woefully absent. Normally it would be Killer or Dust here where he was standing near the King’s seat. But, Killer was helping watch over the King while Ccino caught up on his own work, Cross was scheduled for training right now, and Dust was the one talking, so here he was. 

“Good.” Dust spoke up again, very shortly, as the group quieted. 

Horror noticed Dust had a booklet open on the table before him. Horror recognized the handwriting in the pages, even if he couldn’t read any of the words from such a distance. Those dizzying swirls were the familiar penmanship of their King. King Nightmare must have sent Dust with instructions, or maybe a list of topics to address. 

“Our King will not join us today. I am here on his behalf. Trust me, news will return to him.” Dust explained briefly, and neither of them missed the way a few of the council looked between each other. Nightmare had been out of the public eye for almost a week and a half now. “Any questions?”

Dust’s eyelights traveled to his left, where a hand was raised barely into the air. A human sat there, Horror didn’t recognize them, but it seemed like Dust did. He gestured shortly to him and said, “Damien?” As a prompt to get the man speaking.

As Horror had learned, it was customary to stand when you spoke at these events. Everyone, aside from the King, had a cushioned stool which tended to be easier to raise out of and sit on again. The human, Damien, slipped backward off his stool and rose maybe an inch higher than he had been sitting. 

“Sir Panther,” He addressed Dust with a slightly nervous voice, “We in the council are grateful for your presence and for listening to our pleas, but some of us present feel that the timing of our King’s absence poses a danger to some of our peoples.” 

Damien shoved a strand of dark hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear as he continued with a surprising amount of confidence for someone who seemed to be questioning their king. “While we trust his decisions, we find that our people are growing restless and weary without plans in place to rebuild our shelters. The last flood which passed through was not four days ago, and the letter arrived today more frantic than the last. Is there any hope that we may soon be graced by the King’s presence once again?” He watched Dust’s reaction as he still stood.

Dust, though, had a pokerface of steel. As long as Horror had known him he was always a closed book. Or, maybe more like he had a bottle, but broke the top of the cork off inside the opening, so nothing ever made it out. That was Dust. Horror couldn’t even blame him, with all he was dealing with it was impressive how neutral he could remain. Horror had no doubt this Damien man had no idea what it was Dust was thinking at the moment. Was he happy? Upset? 

Before Dust could answer, another hand shot up, followed by a scrambling sound as this other figure, this one to the right, moved faster. This time, it was a monster Horror recognized vaguely, if only because he believed this was one of the few noble lines who got to stay after the ‘spring cleaning’ as Killer called it once. She was a bee monster, one who lived in the capital, but her family resided over some borderland city. She was younger and a lot quicker to speak.

“Mister Damien is underselling how dangerous the floods have become again, Sir Panther!” She hurriedly said. Across the room, Damien seemed to pale under the loud and shrill voice of this noble girl. Dust nodded to her, prompting a continuation of an explanation. “The floods rolled through my town too, though we had time to prepare thanks to their warnings so the damage was less severe. It sounds like, though, many houses were completely swept away, and among them were Mister Damien’s family home. He has two daughters, you know that? They ended up in my town when the water swept them there. That’s how I know.”

She seemed startled when Damien seemed to slump over his stool a bit, planting his hand on the seat as he looked to her. 

“My little girls? They’re alright?” He asked out of turn, his voice different. A bit weaker. 

The noble girl, was her name Marie? She nearly jumped forward as though she were going to close the gap across the room, her wings buzzing at her back. “Yes! Yes, they’re alright! My mother spotted them in our river and was able to scoop them up.” She replied almost excitedly, entirely blind to the sickly relief on Damien’s face. ���Mother said they were very smart girls, they had a hold of a piece of wood and used it to float!” 

The two seemed to silently revel in the news, Marie proud to have shared it, and Damien grateful to have heard it. Neither of them was taking in the looks of worry permeating their fellow councilmen, though those nearest to Damien did extend hands of support to his shoulders. Comfort. 

“Mm. Good your family is safe.” Dust said, once again reminding the council of his presence. It had so quickly been forgotten in the exchange of information and startling news. 

Damien seemed to jolt at that, and he quickly made a bow towards Dust with a quiet, ‘Thank you, my Knight. Sorry, my Knight.’ escaping his chest in quick succession. 

“Glad you brought that up. The King isn’t sure when he’ll be back here.” He paused a second, “Sent me with a list of announcements. One was for your cities, got word same time as you.” Dust raised the little booklet off the table before him then. The leather cover, though Horror couldn’t see it he knew what it looked like, had the kingdom’s crest pressed into its surface. Dust didn’t glance at the pages, though. Just showed it off for a few breaths. “Said he’s sending out a contracting team. Capital’s best. They’ll be headed out and nightfall to Peechrey first. Build some drainage. Then rebuild the buildings. Move onto Pinoc after or split sooner, depending on resources. Time.” He debriefed. 

Damien and Marie were still standing, their discussion was seemingly not over. Questions unanswered. 

“I- I am grateful that our King has already prepared, it was foolish of me to assume, yet���” He took a breath, maybe trying to put together a thought. “Drainage? Should the repairs not occur first? What of those with no home?” 

Valid question. If Horror were in this guy’s shoes, he’d probably be asking the same exact things. Dust seemed unbothered by the extra questioning and simply nodded along.

“Would, but it’s flood season. King said drainage first so repairs’ll stay sturdy. Just one fix instead of twenty.” Dust explained with a little shrug. “Those without houses? Take them in. Neighbors help neighbors, till we fix the big issues. Least we can ask.” The way Dust said it wasn’t forceful, or mean-spirited, yet it seemed to make Damien stand down. 

“I… Understand, my Knight.” He said briefly. 

It seemed he was about to sit when a hand raised from beside Marie. A human woman, one which Horror did fully recognize. Chase. She was one of the people who Crop had introduced him to during the call-outs for farmers willing to experiment with farming methods. That had been Horror’s first big project at the King’s side, and it had been going well so far. Slow, but well. 

“My Knight, if I may offer.” She received a nod of approval from Dust. “My village is small, an’ about an hour’s ride by horse to yours, but my people live on a plateau and would be more than willing to house any of yours who might need a place to stay for a time. We’d just ask for an extra hand with the harvest when time comes around.” She suggested, looking to Damien for an answer.

Damien looked right back at her for a few breaths, a little stunned. Horror had found, unlike many of these people, that the farmers who he and Crop had managed to gather for the experimental farming? They were good people from tight-knit communities. Visiting their small villages and farms reminded him much of home each time. Keeping crops and animals requires a lot of fortitude, wit, and compassion. More than anyone gave them credit for, usually. In moments of crisis, if he couldn’t be here with his family, he would choose a farming village over all else. …It seemed like Chase was living up to the high praise Horror hadn’t even realize he’d assigned to her years ago. 

“A-are you certain that is all you would ask in return? I fear that Miss Marie was correct in stating that the damages are far worse than I first described. We have at least fifty, perhaps more, who would be needing shelter and resources. We cannot push that upon your people for only a favor of labor.” Damien seemed like he was taking the cautious route. 

Horror couldn’t necessarily blame him, he wouldn’t want to be the reason his town was indebted either. Though, he did have half a mind to defend his colleague. She wouldn’t offer something like that if she and her folks couldn’t handle it. 

“ ‘Course that’s all I’d ask! We got plenty of space, as long as a few of your folks wouldn’t mind taking turns in the lofts. Plus the food shouldn’t be an issue. We mostly export the extra we don’t need to other towns for trade, but there should be enough surplus to feed that many extra mouths.” Chase belted those words with a pride that Horror had seen on many of the farmers lately. Her chest puffed a bit as she placed her hands on her hips. “Plus, don’t hurt that we’ve got the Knights here listenin’ to us make the deal. If I tried anything tricky with it I know Sir Lion over there wouldn’t let me weasel my way out of it!” 

Chase nodded her head in Horror’s direction. He didn’t expect for any eyes to turn to him during this meeting beyond the nervous glances every once in a while. He figured it must’ve been shocking to see him here the first time, and it probably hadn’t gotten much easier for them since. He found himself, regrettably, making direct eye-contact with Damien. The man looked frazzled still. Like he was regretting bringing up the topic at all. 

“Mm. She’s right.” He agreed, hoping it sounded half as light-hearted as he’d meant as it echoed from under his mask. “It’s… also a fair trade. Harvest season gets…” He lifted a hand a bit, searching for the words he was looking for. “Busy. Messy, when there are too many fields to harvest and not… not enough skilled hands to pick. Risk losing a lot of crop to…” Again he paused, but for a shorter span. “Over-ripening. Or drying out. Been trying to find a good way to gather it all for a few seasons now, right?” Horror finally broke his stare with Damien to glance over to Chase. 

She seemed to be beaming from over where she stood. She ran a hand through her short-cropped black hair with a slight laugh. 

“Exactly, My Knight! So, not entirely an unselfish offer, but we scratch your back, you scratch ours! It’d do us a big favor seein’ if getting more hands to help would really gather it all or if we’re gonna need to downscale.” She went between the two, though after looking to Horror again, she seemed to realize that the both of them had gone off-topic from the point of the question. The farming meeting was set for about a month from now, this was the civilian-based meeting. They could save shop talk for then. 

In her resounding silence, eyes all turned. Not to Damien, but to Dust. Normally it’d be Nightmare making this choice, of course, but instead? Today it was him. 

He seemed to look at the parties in question. He was calm. At some point he’d opened the little journal, but kept it flat on the desk away from any prying eyes of the council. He seemed to consult it shortly, and the room’s silence spanned on for nearly a minute as he seemed to debate silently with his thoughts. 

Then.

“Since the offer is made, it falls in guidelines for aide. The King trusts all of the council, but Chase still needs to draft a contract.” He finally announced. “Movement can begin if Damien agrees. Sign the paper later. After the King looks it over.” He said with hardly a moment more of hesitation.

Damien’s mouth was agape for a moment, before he nodded. 

“I- Yes. Thank you My Knight, Miss Chase, Miss Marie. I will agree to your offer to aide, and we will discuss the specifics after the meeting adjourns.” He finally decided.

Chase seemed thrilled. The woman was surely happy to have a whole new town’s-worth of new able-bodied souls to help her manage her crops, even if it was just for the harvest for one season. Horror and her both knew that this would put her ahead of schedule from the other farms by a bit. More progress did mean more attention from him and Crop, more notoriety for their village, and more trade incoming and outgoing. Plus, Chase was the kind of woman who insisted a little bit of manual labor was healthy for the soul. She was already getting her hands on that parchment used by all the council members to plead their cases to be reviewed by the King. 

When all was quieted and both Damien and Marie also seemed to have begin writing, though theirs were on regular paper (letters maybe?), Dust allowed a moment of quiet before he reintroduced their topic for the day. And… was immediately interrupted by another raised hand from a new corner of the meeting room.

.

“How… do you do it?” Horror asked quietly, lifting his axe from the sling along his back. 

Dust glanced at him. Horror could tell, the tilt of his chin meant he wasn’t following.

“I mean. Talk in front of all those people. Think of good answers to their questions so quick. You’re so calm.” He clarified. 

“Mm.” Was all Dust said for a second. 

They’d been out of the council meeting for a few hours now. Dust had rushed off post-meeting to see Nightmare. As much as they all knew Dust was the king of paperwork, especially contracts, Nightmare had made him promise to let him at least read over each one so his stamp was proper. (They all knew that meant he’d take the fall if anything went wrong for either party, too.) So, despite their King being so tired and busy with his whole… being a teenager thing? He was still triple-checking legal documents in his study. 

When that was finished Dust had gone off to check the stables and now he was back inside. In the training room, to be more specific. He’d been trying to make sure his magic was under control. His storm. Horror figured he was nervous, with Nightmare being so young now. They all needed to be on their toes. Horror had wanted to come with him, because he needed to sharpen and polish his axe. And ask him that question.

“Black Market boss.” He replied evenly, tugging his hood over his head a bit farther than it usually sat. 

Of course Horror knew about that. It had been very obvious when he’d first showed up. Back then, Dust was still wandering around in his shackles and being used as a walking map to find every black market location. Sure, he figured that the stress of a job like that, plus the paperwork involved, had to have prepared him for something like this, but… Horror was the last one to forget that past of his. He meant something else. 

“Didn’t mean that.” He said with a little huff. “Meant. Like. You think how the King would. I could… make choices that I liked. But. Not the same way Nightmare would. You know? You think of everything.” He elaborated a bit more.

Dust stood beside him as he plopped down onto one of the benches to the side of the training room. Dust would need all the floor space to practice his spells, and sharpening and cleaning his monster of an axe didn’t need much space at all. 

“Same morals?” He replied deadpan with a shrug. 

Dust was already moving out onto the big open floor to begin his summons, but he clearly heard it as Horror let out a laugh, because his steps got a bit lighter.

“You ass! I saw you send me a look about the Cherris rep. You wouldn’t have… said yes to her on your own.” He accused, almost playfully. He liked when his small friend set his shoulders. It meant he was trying not to laugh about something. Dust didn’t turn towards him.

“She asked for… a lot. Already gets a lot of support.” He replied shortly. 

Quickly after his words, Horror was graced with the vision of Dust’s magic igniting across the room. 

It was always in bright flashes. Sometimes manifesting as crooked, broken, brittle bone attacks with an electric taste in the air and a scorch mark left on the floor. Others, it showed up like a streak of lightning arching quickly from Dust’s fingertips or from the sky to strike wildly in any direction. It always had this deadly purple hue to it, and his one eyelight always flashed with vibrant colors just for a spilt second before it would fade back to that pale white/greyish color he sported normally. 

Dust didn’t like to talk when he was fighting or training, unless it was Killer. It seemed that would be his answer for now, which didn’t really help his curiosity in the slightest. It almost made him wonder more, but lucky for the both of them, he wasn’t a very pushy person. If Dust didn’t want to talk about it, there would be no talking. 

So, Horror took this time, with the ambient zapping noises of his fellow Knight’s magic as his soundtrack, to properly care for his axe. It was a nice, calming, repetitive task that helped chase away building headaches and distract him from worrisome thoughts. It was times like these when he could really take a moment to think about things he hasn’t in a while. Like, for instance, his family back home. 

Almost two weeks ago, only days before the King’s reverse-ascension, he’d gotten a letter from his mother. It was written in their foreign tongue, the only writing all the family could recognize and the only language which most of them spoke. It had detailed how his brother was doing well, managing their own experimental patches well and how his studies to learn more of Orchan, the dialect spoken by the people here, had been going by quickly. He was already planning to send a letter to him apparently. Though, his mother had insisted he not mention that when they meet again because it was meant to be a surprise. It also sounded like their old farm dog had finally had her last litter of puppies. They were going to move her into someone’s house and off the fields soon, once this batch of pups grew old enough to protect the livestock on their own. Horror knew how much that old dog deserved a nice retirement treat. Warm bed and shoes to chew on when she’d get bored. 

He ran a cloth along the broadside of the axe blade, away from the sharp bits for now. He liked getting the side shiny enough that he could spot a silhouette, but not enough that he could see his own reflection. 

…Honestly, he wanted to visit his family. He wanted to visit his family with the King in tow, though. The plan had been to ask him about another visit soon, because his entire village adored the King just like he did. His mother once swooned to him about how ‘awkward and kind’ the King was when he sat with everyone at dinner. His dad liked the way Nightmare tried to hold back his joy at the taste of their home-cooked meal they’d served to him. The King’s poker face had hardly broken for a moment, but the curling of those tendrils of his had been hard to miss. 

He just thought it’d be nice to bring Nightmare along. Plus, then, his family would be much less likely to try and baby him. He’d be on the clock as a guard, even if the King wouldn’t say so. 

It would have to happen another time, though. Maybe he’d invite Crop instead. Have him examine ground zero for this entire project of theirs? That’d be nice, it’d keep his family occupied by talking technicalities with Crop… but then Horror wouldn’t get nearly enough time with Crop all to himself… Maybe-

“Worried for him.” 

Dust’s voice snapped Horror out of his thoughts with a jolt. 

Dust stared at him, only a little apologetic at giving his large friend a heart-attack. He was stood right past Horror’s axe. He must’ve stopped polishing a while ago. Dust looked like he’d worked up a sweat, the room felt at least 10 degrees warmer, and the floor and some walls had distinct scorch marks all along the stone in various locations. How long ago had Dust stopped training? He hadn’t even heard the zapping end, so lost in his own head. 

“What?” Horror asked, confused now. 

Dust frowned slightly, though he tugged his mask back over his mouth. 

“Been learning his process for years. Only doing it now because I’m worried.” He said. 

He moved to sit beside Horror on the bench, and Horror twisted to look at him. Waiting for any more insight into Dust’s thought process. 

“He looks tired. Can see the bags under his eyes. Missing words too. Trouble focusing, looks confused sometimes.” He explained. “Don’t think he’s dumb, real genius kid. Just… the whole “13 year old brain” is getting to him. Don’t think he’s sleeping much either. It’s a lot.” 

Dust looked a little pained to be saying it outloud. Horror knew he was just speaking his mind. Trying to find a good way to say that he was rightfully worried for the King’s wellbeing. 

Ever since the incident, Horror hadn’t been around the King much. Not by choice of course, every bone in his body wished he could just wrap his young employer up in his arms and make him go out to the courtyard to play catch, just like he used to do with his older cousins as a kid. It just… it just made sense for him to remain vigilant and focused. Ccino and Killer and Dust seemed to have things covered with the King’s personal interactions. Horror and Cross had just been tasked with keeping face and continuing training best they could. Nightmare hadn’t even been coming to supervise trainings. So, Horror could barely say anything to Dust’s description.

The only thing Horror knew was that Dust wasn’t one to worry unneededly. Like, when he and the King returned with that Mage. Error? He’d seemed worried about the kid, but after a few days he relaxed again, because it was safe and that kid seemed genuinely happy. If Dust thought something was up with the King, Horror would believe him without doubt.

“Mm. Good thing. You learned, I mean.” Horror replied carefully. “Probably a lot like…” Hmm, maybe he didn’t want to say that out loud. Would that be rude?

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Yeah.” Dust just said quietly. 

Of course Dust knew what he was about to say. Comparing the King’s rewind to his own skull injury. Granted, his happened when he was a kid, but even now it made things harder. Harder to think, to remember, to see, to process things. He’s had time to get used to it though. Nightmare was just hit by similar issues so suddenly, and no physical wound to soothe either. Their king was smart and prepared. Horror could bet he didn’t want to lose that feeling. To lose… everything he’d been doing here. Just like that. 

“Don’t want to, though.” Dust’s voice was still quiet and even. 

Horror tilted his head at him curiously. 

“Talk. In front of others.” He clarified with a shrug. “Was nice being a Knight. Quiet before. …But I want to help. King’s too young to act alone.” 

Dust sighed after those words. 

They all could have said the same things about themselves in the past. Horror remembers the first time Dust discussed his early days out on the streets. He was too young to put himself into those situations. Then again, Killer had been too young for any of the shit he was put through. Same with what he heard from Cross. Even he shouldn’t have really been the sole communicator for his entire family in his youth. There had been a few close encounters in those early years thanks to angry customers. 

There was no time to really think back on it, though. In the moment now, Dust was right. The King was having that crisis in real time. They all needed to face the music and help take on some of the weight, especially after all Nightmare had done for them. Was still doing for them. 

“Think there’s… something I can do? To help you with the meetings?” He paused, and Dust didn’t say anything so he continued. “Or help the King?” 

He hadn’t exactly been doing much. Killer and Dust had taken on most of the responsibility, and Ccino… that poor guy, Horror wasn’t sure how he was managing everything he was. Killer gave them a breakdown once of all the shit he technically oversees as the ‘Head of House’ and stars was it way too much. And Cross was still a rookie, so he got why Nightmare hadn’t assigned any big stressors to him. Horror was capable though, and he hoped the King wasn’t-

“Next few weeks. He can’t meet the farms. I dunno how he runs those meetings.” Dust once again sliced through his thoughts with his even tone. “ ‘sides. You stayed, didn’t do your missions. Watching out for Cross. Think Night likes having us close. Already helping a lot.” 

Right. When Dust says it like that, it made his whole lot of nothing sound like everything. Sometimes he forgot Dust was an older brother. Horror chuckled a bit, and he could’ve sworn Dust’s cheekbones rose ever so slightly with the twitch of a hidden grin. He should’ve known better anyhow, Dust always knew just the right information. It was why Night hired him in the first place. 

“You’re doin’ well. Keeping things moving smooth. I’m sure the King appreciates it.” Horror voiced, before he sighed and hoisted himself to his feet. His axe was definitely done. He’d sharpen it another day. “Maybe,” A grin appeared on his face. “When he’s better, we can assign Kills to talk instead.” 

In hardly a moment, a silent moment, Dust was at his side now standing. He raised a doubtful brow at the suggestion. 

.

What is he doing? What is he doing?  

Oh, this felt so, so odd! He wasn’t- he shouldn’t! Well, he was ordered to, but still! He-

“Cross?” 

Cross jolted as he looked up from where he had made a poor attempt at excusing himself from the group outside. He’d insisted he had important business, he was sure he sounded convincing… until he’d walked through the nearest door. Which happened to be one of the weapon storage closets out amidst the training grounds. 

Now, as he turned to face the person who had spoken, he found that there was someone standing in the doorway. A familiar someone. A human with an impressive beard and dark tanned skin and scars tracing across his cheekbones ever so faintly and kind eyes with a few wrinkles under them. From age or stress, Cross wasn’t entirely sure. 

This was Captain Rogers. The King’s first in command who watched over all the royal guard as well as castle security. The man who had personally guided the batch of recruits which Cross had snuck in with during his spying mission hardly two years prior. The man who, he had swiftly learned, had seen through him very quickly and had purposely placed him with Shep as his guide. That damn liar. Captain Rogers was sharp, and skilled, and trustworthy. 

As far as he knew, the Captain had been around longer than Killer. At least, that’s what Killer had told him when he asked. He also had mentioned, and Cross had noticed, he was friends with the Head of House. Cross guessed that made sense. The captain had ensured Ccino be introduced as an important person within the castle very early on in their work here, and he had been proven very very right. 

Maybe it was that reputation Cross had seen true with his own two eyes during his stay that led him to not ask the Captain to leave as he eased his way into the weapons storage and gently closed the door behind him. He wasn’t a threat. Especially if the King trusted him with Ccino. He could know that much. 

“I’m not looking to disturb your business here, but I wanted to see if I could be of any assistance.” The Captain offered loosely. 

He’d been kind since Cross was pardoned by the King and allowed to train. His first few weeks when he fought against the Captain’s own soldiers? He and the King had both been patient with him. Something about being in combat like that again… it had brought out the worst in him. An old wound reopening in his chest like an empty chasm. He was pretty sure the King never explained to the Captain why they would suddenly stop mid-round, but Cross figured he could see the change as well as Nightmare could feel it. They’d only kept that up a few weeks until he was deemed too high of a skill level to continue training with the soldiers. He’d been moved to private training with the Knights not much later than that. Only saw the Captain in passing ever since. 

If nothing else, that time under his guidance had taught Cross that he was a man who knew how to speak with others. With security for himself and what he does, a pride in his work. He didn’t act maliciously. Perhaps only in jest or retribution to those who deserved it. He wouldn’t follow Cross in here if he hadn’t noticed him acting weird. 

That mortified him.

“Thank you. For the- for the offer, Captain Rogers.” Cross replied hurriedly, realizing he’d already been staring for a period of time that felt too long. “Though I’m not sure there’s anything that can be helped.”

The Captain was silent for a few breaths, but he did wander deeper into the shed to join Cross before the stand which he had decided to stop at in his rush to get out from the scrutinous eyes of the soldiers out there. He turned away. He could easily see the reflection of the Captain on the steel surfaces of the longswords he’d stationed himself in front of. Of course he’d stopped near the long swords. He was so predictable. 

“I’m not so sure about that, kid. I’ve seen time again how the helpless can be helped in these recent years.” He said quietly. Part of Cross knew that, with their ranking, in some ways they were meant to be equals. It never seemed that way, though. Maybe that was why Cross’ nerves were on fire. “So if I can help, I’d like to offer it to you.” 

Yeah. From what Cross had seen of the people in this castle in these two years, it made sense to him now more than ever that Nightmare would keep people like the Captain around for so long. 

Wait…

“Have you… spoken with our King recently?” Cross had to know. 

After all, he hardly saw Nightmare interact with his own soldiers. He devoted much time into his Knights, but those in lower rank hardly saw him. He didn’t seem to know their names as well as he did the servants. Did he leave all business up to the Captain for the sake of trust? Was there something he had been missing? 

He saw as the Captain glanced towards the closed door, and his eyes skimmed the rack of weapons. Checking for any signs of life in the reflection. His eyes only landed on Cross, staring right back at him in the shining steel. 

“Not directly, no. Though I have heard word from Ccino as to how he is fairing. Seen him pass by in the night a few times. He seems to be doing well, considering it all.” He voiced, his voice almost dropping to an inaudible whisper. Cross had to stop breathing to be able to hear him. “I know you see him regularly. I’m glad for that.” 

Cross nodded, mostly to himself. Yes, he figured that the Captain would know. Why else would he agree to let Cross back out among his men so easily? The King was in danger if he didn’t train these monsters. 

He took a slight breath from the silence, drinking in the scent of cleaners and musty wood.

“I wish Killer was in charge of this…” He muttered to himself, dragging his hand up to his skull to place pressure to his sockets with the heel of his palms. 

And he nearly jumped when the Captain let a laugh fall from his mouth. It was subdued, but hardy enough Cross practically felt it bounce around in his ribcage alongside his racing soul. 

“You truly believe Sir Killer would have better luck with something like this?” The Captain questioned, a slight smile still present after his raucous laugh had scared Cross to the bone. “No ill will, of course. Just… think on it. Truly.” 

Cross, part of him, felt an indignation on Killer’s behalf. For a moment he wondered if the Captain was being rude towards the Knight. The oldest of them, the most skilled, the one who stood at King Nightmare’s side. Though it only took half a second for him to recall. No, he was actually right. He couldn’t picture Killer out there on the training grounds, trying to teach swaths of people at a time. To dodge, too. Killer was a very aggressive fighter and only fled when he truly needed to. Even then, most of that work belonged to his beloved steed Granite. Killer was not the type to teach fighting lessons to a crowd. 

Though, he wondered how the Captain had come to a conclusion like that. Cross had heard that Nightmare had sparred with the Captain before. Only a few times, not even close to the kind of intense training which the Knights had to go through. That he had been training. Before Night’s change, of course. From what he’d been told. The Captain had only lasted hardly a minute. One, very impressive, minute, but still. There was no way he’d ever sparred against Killer.

“No… You are right, Killer wouldn’t be the best option here.” He admitted. “Though I get the feeling that one of the Knights would be a better fit for this sort of training…”

Of course, it went unsaid in the silence which followed that, well, the other Knights were too busy to do something like this. Dust was leading every meeting Nightmare had scheduled, and planned to continue for as long as he was needed. Killer was busy staying by the King’s side and taking on the King’s usual commoner communications. Figuring out what little issues were good to be dealt with how. As well as ‘cleaning out’ the dungeon. Cross was pretty sure they didn’t keep as many criminals as they had in the past, even when Cross was among the cells those two years ago it hadn’t been very crowded. He had a feeling that the more dangerous and violent of those below the castle had been swiftly dealt with by Killer’s blade. Horror he was pretty sure was preparing. The two of them had spent a lot of time by each other’s sides those first few days, when the King was asleep or waking for only short periods before returning to sleep. After, though, Horror received his orders to cancel his missions and prepare for the upcoming harvests which would need to be guided and recorded over the fall. Cross… Cross had only been asked to continue his training with Horror when their schedules fell in line, and to work with Killer to settle any local matters. 

He didn’t mind it so far, there had been very little to do, though. He worried he’d been sidelined. Sent to do the unimportant tasks because he wasn’t capable enough. Nightmare had smiled at him, but he seemed distressed. Cross was too, then. 

There was no way the King had chosen him to do something like this. Teach others. He couldn’t do that. 

“Well, it is a shame that you think like that. You were recommended to me for this training, you know?” The Captain crossed his arms. “By several someones, actually. Training the soldiers may have been my idea, but you were who many pointed to when I asked for assistance.” 

Cross blinked at those words in confusion. 

Who could have possibly suggested he do something like this? 

“I find that hard to believe.” He said. He’d meant it to sound a bit more joking, but it looked like it’d come out more genuine. The Captain furrowed his brow in response, and Cross attempted to backpedal, raising his hands a little. “I mean! Kidding! Just kidding!” Though his awkward chuckle obviously wasn’t contagious. 

“Look, Cross.” He huffed after those words. “If you really don’t want to do this, I can always ask for a hand from someone else. I bet Horror would do it in your stead if we reached out to him.” He offered. 

Was- was the Captain really just going to let him slip away from this? He was kind. Incredibly so. 

He wondered how it would feel to just accept. Hand off the stressful duty to Horror. Horror knew these people better anyhow, they had trained early on before Nightmare decided to offer him a position as Knight. Horror still spoke with most of them regularly. Cross, on the other hand, evaded eye contact like a kicked puppy. It would be so easy to just let Horror take over before he had to do his meeting things for the harvest season. It would be so convenient. So easy. 

“No. I’ll do it.” He said quickly. 

The Captain raised a brow, but Cross was already moving past him. Towards the door. 

“Sudden change of heart?” The Captain questioned from behind him. 

Cross took a deep inhale. One to center himself as he outstretched his hand and placed it on the knob leading back outside. 

“I don’t think I’m any good at leading or teaching, thinking on it makes me sick to my stomach… but the idea of making the others take on another responsibility is ten times worse.” He practically spat. 

No, he was not happy about this. He shoved open the door to the shed and drew his sword as he walked back towards the warm-up field where the soldiers had occupied themselves by whacking dummies with their weapons. He wanted nothing more than to turn away, out of the beating sun and watchful gazes of these people who he once hid among. He couldn’t though. Not when everyone else had some way to help. If this was Cross’ new duty, he’d do it with all the confidence he could muster. 

… Besides. They were training for fast-reaction magic attacks. He was literally the only choice for this. He’d just have to make his own training regime this time around. He could do this. 

.

Killer had done a lot of odd jobs in his past. Most of them involved stealing. Or threatening. Or killing. He had to get his name from somewhere, after all. Even so, running into town to pick up Ccino’s fabric order hadn’t been something he’d ever expected to be on his resume. 

The King was having one of his rough days. Killer hadn’t often been able to see them first-hand back in the day, but he knew they were very much there. The days he would lock himself away in his study, the Head of House the only one allowed to enter, bringing with him a cup of tea or a platter of small snacks. Staying inside for hours at a time on occasion. Killer had often guarded the door if nothing else, but the walls were thick. He couldn’t often hear the low murmuring voices within. 

Now, that the King was miniscule, Killer had been allowed to spend more time around both the King in his private spaces, as well as around Ccino. He was grateful for both opportunities. Though, today the King had looked exhausted. He’d been up for a few days trying to make that magic spell he found work, to make his eye cyan again. He wasn’t saying anything, but Killer figured it was draining his magic more than he wanted to admit. And earlier, when Dust came to deliver those reports from the meeting, Ccino had asked the two of them to stay for a while so he could collect a delivery. Only… Nightmare nearly flung himself out of his seat when he heard Ccino suggest he was leaving. The King didn’t outright say anything, but all of them knew those wide sockets were pleading. A silent beg to stay. Which was quickly followed by stray tears that he hastily noticed and covered with his sleeves. 

Emotions. He hadn’t thought the King had been such a crybaby before. Maybe he hadn’t been. Killer couldn’t blame him though. If he had to go back to being 13, with the awareness of his 13 year old self? Yeah. No. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t make it a day. It was just that he was a crying a lot. The slightest little things would make his sockets well with tears, and then he’d try to insist he was okay and didn’t need help. Even when he would still bury into Ccino’s arms the moment they came in contact. 

That was what had happened. Ccino returned to the King’s side, and the King immediately clung to him, muttering apologies. Insisting he go out anyways. What he reacted poorly and should be able to handle himself.

Killer had looked to Dust, and Dust had just nodded at him. 

“I’ll go get the order.” Killer had offered stupidly, a little too eagerly, into the open air. 

Both Nightmare and Ccino had seemed startled, but when he promised he wanted to run into town anyways (he hadn’t) they relented and Ccino gave him the details. Dust offered wordlessly to stay and watch over the King and head of House in Killer’s absense. He knew Killer all too well. He’d have to thank him with a drink sometime.

Those tears. They just made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t good with emotions, especially not sadness. He doesn’t know quite how to fix crying. It’s not his thing. 

It just made sense for Ccino to stay and Dust to watch over them. His big brother senses must’ve been strong today, and his patience plentiful. 

He’s run to the shop, of course. A tailor shop owned by a pretty skeleton just off from the capital square. He hadn’t seemed excited to see Killer, even with that mask. A nervous energy rolling off his shoulders as he reluctantly gathered items from behind the desk and packed them carefully into the bag which Ccino had sent him with to carry the items. He’d asked about Ccino. Whether he was okay. Killer had just told him that Ccino was busy so he was running errands. They hadn’t had much more to say beyond that. 

Now, he was back in the castle, ready to present Ccino with his prize, and see if the King had been able to calm down at all. 

“My lord?” He called out as he opened the door to the study with an easy swing of wood on heavy hinges. Slipping inside was no problem, but he’d be stupid to deny that he was confused when he didn’t spot the little monarch sitting behind his too-big wooden desk piled high with paperwork. 

“Killer,” He sure knew that voice! His head swiveled until his vision fell to Ccino, sitting on one of the couches. Dust was nowhere in sight. “Perfect timing. Dust just left to meet with Horror to train… How was your trip to town?” 

Ccino, polite and reserved as always. It made Killer’s gut twist just a little. At the distance. His soul certainly wriggled in place as he made his approach, bag clutched by one hand at his side. 

“Not bad. Could’ve done with a little more action!” He joked, though as he got closer, he lowered his voice and the laugh trying to come to him simmered back into his cheshire grin. “Your little friend from the shop asked about you.” 

As Killer rounded the largest couch to stand just across the low table from Ccino, he noticed what he hadn’t prior. The King was curled up with his back to killer, arms loosely hugging to Ccino’s middle, his face buried against Ccino’s apron. A blanket normally tossed over the back of the few chairs within the room was covering him, and someone had tucked him in tight, like a bug in a rug. Even more charmingly, one of the cats took up the rest of the space on Ccino’s lap. That little calico, Princess. Her back was pressed to the back of Nightmare’s skull and she seemed perfectly content to roll up into a perfect little bun on her master’s lap. 

And despite the adorable scene, Killer didn’t miss how Ccino seemed to perk up at the mention of his friend. So they were friends, then. 

“What did you tell him?” Ccino asked, his voice quiet. One of his hands was settled gently atop Nightmare’s side, the other was free and tucked by his side. 

Killer chuckled quietly, sitting on the opposite couch as he plopped his delivery silently to the table before Ccino. 

“Nothing bad. Told him you were busy so I was out on a grocery run. Everyone knows you’re a very busy man.” He teased. Was it okay to tease him right now? Was Ccino going to be mad with him?

Well, if he was, he didn’t seem to say anything about it. Instead , he peered at the bag, then smiled a bit. 

“Well, thank you for running out, my Knight.” He returned, eyelights shifting back down to his charge who rested in the comfort and safety of his lap. …Killer had to admit to himself that he was a bit jealous. “When I have the chance, I plan to visit our tailor and ensure that our King has a wider wardrobe, since it seems he truly won’t be returning to his previous form anytime soon.” 

Right. They were still trying to keep everything under wraps, so Ccino couldn’t just send a servant with measurements to see the seamstress halfway across castle grounds. He probably had to go himself. Especially because, as Killer had quickly learned, Nightmare is particular about things. The texture of his meals, the feeling of his clothes, even the temperature of his sheets in the night or the brightness of a candle. Though, he rarely voices his discomfort. Ccino was just a master of noticing the little ways the small King would squirm or tug at his top or squint at a candle just a bit too strong for his newly sensitive eyes. He wanted to learn how to do that so well. 

His only good news on that front was that Nightmare still made a lot of the same gestures as before. His little, silent commands to Killer. At ease, be alert, with me. He was fond of still being familiar with their own little secret code they’d unintentionally invented over the years. 

“It really wasn’t a big deal. Besides, our little Lord said that it’d be better for the city to see the knights are still active, right? With Dust and Horror out of commission for day-trips, I’ve gotta pick up the slack!” he joked, leaning back comfortably into the couch and sighing. “Next time you need a break, we can always try and ask him to supervise a training for us. Maybe it’d make him feel a little better?” he suggested,

Nightmare, small as he was now, still couldn’t deny a duty which called for him. Especially, Killer assumed, from his Knights. A little of that old normality would probably be good for him. Make him feel like not much had changed. Even though… it definitely had. 

Ccino smiled a bit at that idea, his hand gently petting Nightmare’s ar. His chest rose up and down ever so gently. 

“He cherishes training with all of you so dearly. Maybe he would enjoy a small break from all of these worries.” He agreed quietly.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Alone

I am back! ( @spotaus almost forgot you this time woops)

I am gonna be real. I spend quite a while thinking about what I wanted to write next in this little series. And I realised I hadn't had a Nightmare POV drabble in a while!

So we are back to Nightmare :3

First Drabble. Prev Drabble. Next Drabble.

This is a look into what Nightmare had been up to and how he personally took to the changes he went through.

------

He hates this.

He hates this he hates this he hates this-

Nightmare shakes his skull. It feels... weird. All of this is weird. He doesn't... He normally isn't this emotional right? It is starting to become hard to remember how it was before.

He hates how he feels.

He is Nightmare!

Terror of the muliverse! The unwanted twin...

He strikes fear in the souls of monsters! Everyone hates him and wants him gone...

Leader of the Gang! Younger brother of Dream...

Bringer of negativity! Untrusted, unwanted and unloved...

He is Nightmare! He is never enough...

And Nightmare doesn't feel like this! This... this... afraid useless powerless ... this way.

Another cold wind and his whole body shivers in the cold. Nightmare is quick to tug himself behind some boxes and pulls the hoody closer around him.

He hates being out in the open. Being in the open risks him being seen and when people see him they will try and hurt him again they will realise he is no longer his powerful self and...

His mind freezes at the implications of what will happen when people realise how powerless he is now. They will realise that Nightmare is weak and they will take revenge.

Revenge on all that he did. Revenge on defending himself.

It would be deserved. It would be deserved.

Nightmare shakes his skull again. Those thoughts... They keep coming back. Things that he hadn't thought about in ages. Thinking in ways he hadn't thought about in ages. Nightmare had thought... he thought that was in the past. Just like being weak and powerless was in the past.

Aparently not. As his form had shrunk to be so small. Nightmare thinks he is just under three feet. Back to the length he had been all those years ago. the same body he had had all those years ago. Even the hold wounds and pains had returned.

Ironic that the wound that would have killed him became healed and hidden but everythign else was still there. as if it had been frozen while he had been older.

Nightmare tugs the hoody tighter around him. It is too big but that is alright. It is warm and soft and makes him feel a bit better he feels safe in it. Even if he knows it doesn't make sense. It jsut brings him comfort.

Hell if Dust finds out he stole from him...

The villagers never reacted well to Nightmare having anything. Even things that Dream had gifted him had been taken and destroyed. He doesn't deserve to have things he likes after all. And Nightmare has quite a few things he really likes at the moment.

The hoody, his book, the old backpack and his feel tools to survive on his own.

Nothing truly compared to what he had managed to make before, when the apples gave him power. But yet... this means more...

It is starting to get hard to remember how to think and plan. The longer he is in this form... his old form... the before apple form. The harder it becomes for him to rationalise and think how his older self used to think.

Which... isn't promising.

Still. He came with a mission. And that is food.

Nightmare glances around the corner and down the street. This is some Lustverse universe. Nightmare can't quite feel and sense the differences anymore but he knows the basics.

If he had known that so many of his powers and skills would disappear he would have grabbed his book with the muliverse verses summaries.

Nightmare had figured he hadn't needed it as he knows the multiverse and can sense things. Oh how he had been the fool on that.

At least the balance wasn't demanding his attention and foucs every five seconds now. that makes it a bit easier to plan with his now much more limited attention span and problem solving skills.

Back to the matter at hand. Lustverse. He specifically went here because most of the Lustverses have a deep wish for children and so a deep care. Even if they are... X-rated.

Nightmare takes a deep breath and looks into the distance and his destination. Grillby's.

Yes. He knows what Grillby's is in these universes, and yes he knows he runs into the risk of running into this universes Sans or Papyrus which will just spell trouble.

However he much prefers to go to these locations as it is less populated and generally friendlier.

He pulls the hood up and goes towards the building. No bouncers near the enterance but then again it isn't like they have children or underaged people in these areas.

Nightmare goes inside and makes sure to keep staring down as much as he can. He only glances around once to locate the bar where he can get food and goes straight there.

Oh how he dislikes being here. Too many people. Maybe he shouldn't have gone to this universe. He will stand out too much. But people won't attack him either as he is a child... he will be safe here...

He gets to the bar and with some light difficulty manages to climb up the chair enough. No one really notices as everyone focusses on the main stage and leer and shout some very pointed comments.

Nightmare doens't feel comfortable hearing those things either and realises he never felt comfortable about these things. Even when he was still an adult and others joked with him about these type of things. Had... had he always still been... like this at his core?

Problem to think about for later. Now he has to order.

The Grillby of this universe looks at him and waits.

Nightmare doesn't feel so certain about this anymore but still he asks "What... what is on the menu?"

Grillby pauses and shoots him a weird look but Nightmare just hides further into the hoody. Thanking his lucky stars that Dust's left over magic makes it so that the hood hides his face.

Grillby ends up pushing a menu over. Nightmare glances down and feels his skull explode with warmth. That is the WRONG menu!

Nightmare looks away from it and stares at the bar as he pushes it back "I meant... food... menu..." He didn't remember that wrong right?! These places also sell food right? Even if it is more snack food?!

Grillby doesn't say anything but Nightmare doesn't dare to look up. He feels tense and keeps glancing back at where the door is. Getting out is easy enough but he wouldn't know where to go after and-

The menu is pulled away and a new one is pushed into his hand. nightmare glances and lets out a sigh of relieve as he sees actual food! only to feel his hope sink as those prices are way too high!

Nightmare freezes as he stares down at the prices. Okay. okay this is fine. just. find the cheapest thing!

He focusses on the menu and searches for the most promising item to buy. He knows he is pulling a face at most of the prices. 150G?! 160G?! What even is this capitalism?!

Eventually he gets to the snack section and isn't too happy wiht it. Snacks aren't good for mortals and kids.. so not good for him. but he needs to eat. the finger food looks okayish... 60G is still a lot but Nightmare will just have to accept it.

His magic is too low to make another jumb and stealing anything is a sure way to get him to be noticed. He searches for his pocket and takes out his bag of gold. He opens it and starts counting the gold coins.

Nightmare mutters the numbers softly to himself. He had been starting to notice that it was getting harder and harder to do certain things. one of them is counting higher numbers. counting out loud helps a tiny bit.

he finishes counting at 54 and freezes. No. no no no no no!

Nightmare pulls the bag closer and starts to recount the gold. come on. please.

54 again.

Nightmare feels his socket start to itch but forces himself to keep it in. don't cry. you are not a crybaby. there is no use to cry over soemthing this stupid. if you cry people will see your weakness and use that.

Nightmare pushes the menu back and mutters "Sorry for wasting your time." He gets ready to hop off the barstool-

"Wait."

Nightmre freezes when he sees a hand reach for him and he flinches away. only to fall backwards off the stool with a yelp.

He falls right on his tailbone and groans as it hurts a lot and holds it as he blinks through a new type of tears.

A gasp from above him and Nightmare looks up. Just to see Grillby stare in shock at him. Nightmare is confused before he realises that the hood is no longer on.

Panic.

run.

Nightmare immediantly grabs his hood and pulls it fully on again. He grabs his bag with gold and turns before sprinting towards the exit.

"Wait! It is okay!"

Nightmare doesn't turn around and reaches the exit and rushes outside. The cold hits him like wall and his magic and body both protest at it. it is too cold and he has too little energy and magic.

Some people shoot him looks and Nightmare feels the panic return. He takes a step back before rushing towards the side and disappearing between two buildings.

He runs for a while as he rushes between buildings. until he slips on some ice and falls hard.

aw...

He pushes himself back up with shaking arms and glares at the ground. He is a mess. He lost everything. he tried so hard but what did it matter? in the end nothing mattered. He just lost everything again.

A sob finally escapes him and he just rolls up. He hates everything. he hates himself.

Nightmare isn't sure how long he just lays there feeling miserable.

after all this time nothing changed. He didn't change. after 500 years of spreading negativity and learning. he is still just him. no wonder they left. He wouldn't want to be stuck with him either.

Footsteps.

Nightmare freezes and hugs hismelf tighter. no. no others.

"... kid?"

Ngihtmare feels his breathing pick up and he forces his body too move even if everythign hurts, seems like his double fall agitated his old wounds. he glances around and wiggles himself behind some garbage cans and goes quiet and still. They can't hurt him if they can't find him.

more footsteps and a soft blue glow fills the alleyway. it doesn't take long before Nightmare can see him. It seems that grillby had followed him. Grillby seems to be following the tiny marks left in the snow and stops by the spot where Nightmare had fallen.

A frown on the fire elemental as he touches the ice and- oh. there is blood there. Nightmare slowly raises his hand and touches his skull before feeling pain rush through him. he removes his hand and finds blood on it.

great, he got himself hurt.

Grillby looks to the side and Nightmare follows his sight and freezes at the very clear marks on where he went.

Grillby raises his head and stares right at him. Nightmare remains frozen right where he is as he feels himself shake and his bone start to rattle.

Grillby moves a hand and Nightmare flinches. Grillby immediantly freezes and moves his hand away "It is okay... i won't hurt you."

Nightmare just stares at him. Still shaking and now not just the panic and fear but also the cold. The hoody is warm but not enough to keep him warm. Probably because he grow up in a universe where it was forever spring and early summer.

Nightmare literally wasn't made for the cold.

Grillby inches closer and Nightmare pushes himself further back. The wall is freezing against his back and side but it is better than being near the other monster.

Grillby frowns "Where... where did you come from?"

Ngihtmare stares back. He doesn't have an answer for the other. Not one he wants to give.

Grillby frowns but pulls his bag over "You... you wanted food right?" he pushes the bag closer to him.

Nightmare feels hismelf eye the bag. He needs the food. He wants it so badly. The last time someone gave him food it had been a villager and the food had been drugged all so they could grab him and-

NIghtmare shakes his skull and pushes back further. Stay away.

Grillby frowns at him before trying to give a smile. "It is some of the food you had been looking at." he nudges the bag again.

Nightmare frowns and pushes further back as he glares. people don't just smile at him unless they want something from him. or want to trick him. He isn't falling for it. he swallows before speaking "I don't... have that much gold..." there. he can't pay for it.

Grillby just pushes the bag closer "It is okay. free of charge."

Nightmare glares at the other "No."

Grillby frowns "It is okay-"

Nightmare feels himself get angry and that breaks through the fear "I know you did something to it! leave me alone!"

Girllby looks pained and... pity.

Nightmare hates pity. Dream had stared at him wiht pity after he broke out. as if Dream pitied him for defending himself.

Grillby pulls the bag back over to himself and takes out some of the food. oh that is a sandwich and Nightmare feels his magic knit together and the hunger returns fullforce.

Grillby takes a moment to pull a piece of it and oh that is pulled beef in there and it looks so good. Grillby pops it into his mouth and swallows it.

and... nothing happened.

Nightmare keeps staring at the other as he waits. Nightmare knows from experience those things work very fast but nothing happens to the other.

Grillby lays it back on the paper and pushes it over "It is okay... it is just food."

Ngihtmare gulps as he stares at the food. He hadn't eaten for days at this point and ever since he left his castle three weeks ago he hadn't been eating anywhere near to enough. He reaches for the bag as he thinks. He just needs a little bit of food. just enough magic and he can teleport himself to an another universe. maybe he can get enough energy before whatever drug starts to work?

He gets the bag over to him and feels his resolve weaken quickly. mulitple sandwiches are in there. Nightmare grabs the one that Grillby had taste tested and takes a bite.

It tastes so good and his magic purrs as it finally gets some energy back after these last three weeks. the food demands his attention and nothing else matters right now. He takes bite after bite as his stomach fills up.

by the time half of it is gone he feels overfull and Nightmare knows he ate way too much. He feels so much better even if he is still cold and wet from the snow.

Grillby frowns at him "Is that all you will eat? You sure you don't want to eat more?"

Panic and suspicion returns nad Nightmare frowns at Grillby again. He waits a moment before nodding and pushing the bag of food back. including the half finished sandwich.

Grillby frowns and shakes his head "It is okay. Keep it for when you get hungry again... were are your... parent? parents?"

Nightmare glares "does it matter?"

Grillby smiles again and Nightmare doesn't feel any less suspicious of the other. Girllby nods "Well, yeah. I wanted to return you to them." and he waits.

Nightmare stares at him and feels spiteful "She died. She was murdered a long time ago. I don't have any family." not anymore. Not after his mother died. Not after he ruined everything and pushed Dream away from him. Not after the gang left and made it clear they didn't actually care.

Grillby just stares at him "You are alone?"

Ngihtmare shrugs "better like that..." no one can hurt him when he is alone. Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Maybe he was meant to be alone. Maybe that is for the better. No one wanted to be near him anyway. He should have seen that for the sign it was.

Grillby reaches a hand out "I am sure we can find some people to take care of you... I have a friend who is also a skeleton and-"

Nightmare shakes his skull and pusehs back "No."

Grillby raises both of his hands in surrender "That is okay... Then how about we go to my place again? There are rooms that you can use and-"

Nightmare glares at him "I am not going with you to a secondary location."

Grillby blinks before noddng "okay. that is okay. where do you want to go?"

Nightmare keeps glaring "I can get there myself."

Grillby looks deeply unhappy. Hah! Good! Nightmare has no doubt that the other was trying to lure him somewhere. But Nightmare isn't an idiot. He isn't just going to trust the other just because he was giving a bit of food.

Grillby sighs and nods "Okay... I need to go back. but if you need help just come by okay?" he smiles "I never caught your name. I am grillby."

Nightmare just looks at the other and raises a brow "That is because i didn't throw it." it just came out without a doubt. He had heard too many puns from the others when they all sitll lived together. He misses them.

Grillby blinks but chuckles "okay. take it easy okay? Get somewhere dry and warm and please just take the food and eat when you need it." he rises to his feet and leaves the alleyway. He pauses near the end for a moment "If you change your mind. You are welcome at Grillby's. We will figure out a safe spot for you okay?" and he leaves after a moment.

Nightmare waits for a bit more. long enough that he only hears the wind after a while and he is shaking in cold again. That is when he removes himself from his, very bad, hiding place and quickly goes towards the spot he had left most of his things. Taking the food with him.

He gets there and feels himelf relax a little bit.

But there is no time to let his guard down just yet. He needs to decide if he wants to risk sleeping here and being found now that people know he is here. Or move on to a new universe.

The new universe would mean a lot of time spend on finding a fitting place to stay again.

Ngihtmare sighs but quickly packs his things. better to be safe. he needs to go now he has the energy nad before this whole situation backfires on him. He is quickly packed and after making sure he got all his things and left zero marks of his stay he opens a portal.

It is so much harder than it used to be. He can also no longer make the long jumps to whatever universe he wants and can only go to the neighbouring universes.

a small and shaky portal of dark mist opens and Nightmare steps through.

Time for the next spot. maybe this one will work better.

------------

First Drabble. Prev Drabble. Next Drabble.

[altarfates]

It’s worse because it’s her, because her empathy is offered to him, as if she were suturing the gaping lesion both in him and his wallet closed. Grimsley was adamant that no one see him like this, that only he could see himself as consequences of his own irresponsible actions bore down upon him. Liepard was a capricious pokemon, oftentimes people had said she was hard to read, docile one moment and then belligerent the next. Like this, with her steady gaze glinting down upon him from where he’d sprawled on the floor, an arm splayed over his face to block out the cascading moonlight from outside, she was his most steadfast companion. There was no judgement in her, not as he awkwardly splayed his hand against the door to urge it open, nor as he’d unceremoniously sunk to his knees beside his bed and dropped his head into his hands. The soft, intermittent padding of her paws against the floorboards was the only accompanying sound to his slowly steadying breath. She’s no arbiter of his sins and doesn't bitterly reprimand him for another night of foolishly squandering away what little they had left. Because he had opened his hand, slowly unfurling finger by finger to reveal what he had brought back for her. Liepard ignored it, brushed it away, pressing her forehead against his hand, the insistent, grounding sensation of fur against his skin chasing away the despair that began to fester under his skin. They remain like this for the rest of the night, sleep an elusive mistress. Liepard rests against his side, his fingers buried in her fur, the slow, steady caress of his hand appeasing both trainer and pokemon. It’s absurd how long it had taken him to convince her to eat, she was stubborn like that, staring him down as if the offering was an offense. She would have remained awake all night, vigilant by his side, had he not eventually been able to stave off the churning nausea and grasp the fragments of his cognizance, sliding them gradually back into the places they belonged. Nights like this were the hardest, how much determination needed to be bled from him until it was over, when would the uncertainty of their situation become something more stable, something capable of being nurtured and safe guarded. Grimsley casts his eyes down to her, that same silver moonlight accentuating the golden patterns on her coat, shimmering as her chest rose and fell in a tranquil doze. All he could think at that moment, even as his pockets remained deplorably empty and dawn lurked over the horizon in lurid streaks of crimson, was that he would do anything, forfeit anything, so that they could stay like this. He could shamelessly proclaim it was the lavish life-style he coveted, the ostentatious parties and inordinate gambles but that wasn’t it; it wasn’t it at all. In the end he was gazing long and hard at what he had once been convinced were the people closest to him and realizing they were just as hollow as he was, abhorrent pits of emptiness that desired only the most sumptuous of all things, as if that proved their worth. No, as he slowly stroked her fur and felt the sluggish undulations of alcohol taper off into sobriety all he really wanted was for the two of them to remain together, no matter what else that took from him.

[antirepurp]

maria whose influence made shadow the way he is. maria who was bitter and mean and who held a gun with a firmer grip than she should have. maria whose legacy was altered by her loved ones for you can't speak ill of the dead. can anyone hear me

[seaofolives]

🎭 #torokatober2024 day 31/31: memories 🎻

“Do you remember what it was like?” Trowa asks. “Before we met?”

He’d come home from the circus yesterday, and they’d spent all night in bed, up to this morning. Trowa is still on his back, Quatre on his knees; he’d been about to start the day when Trowa caught his hand and pulled him back.

“I do.” Quatre nods. “Why do you ask?”

Trowa shakes his head. “‘Cause I don’t anymore. When I think about how I started wearing my hair like this, I remember your fingers on my scalp as you shave my nape. And I don’t remember what my tent was like without your voice in it. Even all the wars I fought, I don’t remember them without hearing you calling to me. Is it like that for you?” It isn’t.

But Quatre knows what he means. “A little,” he says, smiling slightly. “I remember what it’s like to feel like a speck searching for a purpose in all this space dust. But…I don’t remember how I survived that. Until we met.” He tightens their hands together. “And I realized that I’m never truly alone, after all. Not with you living in the same universe as me. That’s how I know we’ll always meet again, whatever happens. And that all the pains of today…we’ll heal from them in the future.”

“The future…” Trowa whispers.

Quatre nods. “Do you never think about the future?”

Trowa shakes his head.

He sits up suddenly. After a pause, he says, “Left hand,” reaching up to his crown.

Quatre holds his breath, but offers it.

Trowa tugs a lock of hair free, and ties it up several times around Quatre’s fourth finger. “I never thought about the future. Not until we met.” Enclosing Quatre’s hand in-between his, he asks, “Quatre. Will you let me build that future with you?”

That breath Quatre has been holding goes out with a laugh. Trowa has always been full of surprises, ever since they met. “I…” Quatre shakes his head. “Wouldn’t even dream of that future…without you. Mister Triton Winner.”

Triton smiles brightly.

He pulls Quatre into a kiss, and several more after, each one a promise of more mornings shared, conversations in the grass, a hand to hold amid the darkest traumas.

“But,” Quatre gasps when they part, “if you want a different name, I can—”

“Quatre,” Triton looks into his eyes, “I’m building a future with you. I need your name in mine.” Well. Trowa...Triton has always been a sensible man.

Smiling, then, Quatre nods. And laughs with the man who’ll share his future.

find the list of prompts here!

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[o5-blackbird]

Uhh.. putting me on the spot when I barely remember my childhood. One time, when I was very little and upset about something in the middle of the night, my childhood dog came and cuddled up to me, almost suffocating me in her fluff in the meantime. Does that count?

Adm. K: That does count! Good job remembering that! Memories can be so tricky sometimes. It is good to remember a gentle memory like that. Dogs can be so nice sometimes. They are so good at following orders. They're doing a good job at following orders right now too. Ms. 'Nickel', is it? She's standing neatly in the back with her gun drawn with a smile you'd see on the happiest face in the world. Mr. 'Snakebite' is beside her. He's trying so hard to follow the Priest's order to 'stop shaking', but it must be very difficult... He doesn't seem to be doing a good job at it. Poor kid. He was happier in some of the other times I have seen him. I wonder what went wrong in this one. The Priest and his partner are closer up front with Dogwood with their guns leveled at the guards flanking O5-7, they're following the discreet and unsaid order to stick closer to her than to O5-5, who is following the order to 'stay out of (her) way'. I don't understand it, the whole 'following orders' thing. I understand giving orders, I understand being disappointed when they are not followed, but I do not understand following orders. ... Oh. ... It seems Claire doesn't understand it either. ... Huh. I see where her role is in all this. ... She just let Adam out of the truck. Tell me another childhood memory, if you can. The memory of your dog was very nice. This is about to get very sad. Tell me something else that was nice.

[sisterdivinium]

Rating: Mature Category: F/F Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV) Relationship: Jillian Salvius/Mother Superion Characters: Jillian Salvius, Mother Superion (Warrior Nun)

Theirs was a love unnamed, unspoken of, buried in the comforting denial of darkness — and then there was light.

[lifeofmarvvel]

I gave into my AoGG feels and wrote something about Anne and Shirley in early Rainbow Valley days. Enjoy!

[quietlyblooms-gone]

it's one of the worst feelings to have had so much muse and energy to write all day and then sit down, and it all goes poof!! like what do you mean poof -- i was gonna bombard people tonight :(((

[the-whispers-of-death]

I'm still not feeling like writing anything I already have in my masterlist, I just feel like posting random posts. So here's a fun fact.

If you know who Manish Joshi-Kaur is, then you know how he's dead in Stone's canon lore. If you don't know who he is, he's Stone's half-brother (one of two), specifically on his mother's side. Now the fun fact is that there was a point in time, maybe like a week into me posting about The Lions, where I contemplated doing like I how I did with Sarabi, Simba, and Nala.

I was really considering bringing Manish back to life, because I had gotten this train of thought (I guess we can call it that) about Manish having died in battle because he too was a Fleet Marine Corpsman. And if you remember in "Survivor's Guilt/Blood-Stained Hands", The Lions lost their Corpsman in a way that he definitely couldn't come back from and now they don't have a Corpsman.

I mean technically, they don't need one because Shadow Company has medics but I was really tempted to bring Manish back from the dead just so he could be The Lions' Corpsman and also I just think it would be interesting if Stone and Manish interacted because I feel like Manish is one of the few half-siblings that would accept Stone if they all knew Stone was their big brother.

Anyways, I don't know if anyone cares about this. But I just thought I'd share it with y'all since I've just been posting small things that aren't fully drabbles.

Also, I'm really tempted to create a seventh OC but this OC will not be in the same universe as all of the others because I'm thinking he'll be either another sniper for the 141 or a medic for the 141 (and if he is a medic, well, there's really no need for him to be in Stone's universe since Stone is the medic for the 141.)

[aaternum]

“   If Gods exist, do you think they dream as humans do?  ”

Are they, too, powerless to find their own reflection? Do the waters mirror them an uncanny, familiar with no eyes? She wonders if their divinity bears any weight beyond reality, if the world spares them of the apparitions of the past. In her dreams, she sits before her childhood home; just as memory served it, eerily bright and sunny. Not the emptiness it had become. The trees wreathed together above her, comically enormous, stretching beyond the lengths of her arms. In the pond she finds her likeness, a garland of pointed fingers surrounding it. There are nights she wonders who they belong to -- who she’s forgotten to carry, the ones living in her shadow. But her mother disperses them, turns them into bubbles she blows away, wrapping her arms around her other. Her brothers shape appears, pinching the sides of her cheeks as he laughs. Or at least she hopes it's laughter. It’s quiet on this side.

She reaches forward, the tip of her pointer dancing above the waters. And they stop to stare at her. When Gods dream, are they too bound to unreliable child-like memory? Do they forget what their mothers eyes look like? The waters image is a cage of skeletons around her silhouette, and their bony hands reach up to pull her under. The sun begins to sink, and her words bleed into the spaces between her hand and the deceased.

"   Is that why Gods need prayer? Are they afraid of being forgotten just like me?  "

01\ ??? dream drabbles

[mnemosyne-xiv]

.·:*¨ Incomplete Morning ¨*:·.

Remia/Zero drabble | my brain said write from zero's pov and i listened Genre: tiny fluff i dunno Word Count: 2,395 Description: Zero wasn't sure when her mornings began to include Remia, but now they don't feel complete if they aren't spent with her.

There were mornings that they'd spend together in complete silence. Other times, their mornings were filled with idle musings from one or, on the rare occasion, from them both. And then there were mornings such as this where Zero would find herself sitting alone. They were rare. Few and far between—but they happened every now and again all the same.

The memoriate gazed out at the people below. They hurried here and there like tiny insects. So early and still they already had places to be. Stores to open, people to see, things to buy, and so on. Yet here she sat, alone, without any one thing demanding her attention. She could stand to gain from replenishing her aether. But...that didn't feel right to do at this moment.

That thought gave her a moment of pause. Why wouldn't she want to replenish her aether when everything was free for her taking? From the spices to the curry to the drinks, all was taken care of. So why did it feel wrong to want to leave and consume mortal food..? Was there something she was missing?

No...not something. She had her armor and her scythe along with her hat. There wasn't much she typically carried so it's not as though she forgot an item behind in her room. She brought no possessions with her from her domain—as if she had any to bring in the first place—so there wasn't a thing she could be forgetting.

Her eyes shifted to the empty railing beside her. It was too quiet for her liking. Not in the sense of literal noise. No, Radz-at-Han was a very loud and exuberant city full of life and excitement so it wasn't a lack of sound that brought her unease. It was the distinct lack of a particular voice that left her feeling as though her morning was incomplete. When had she grown used to the company of another, she wondered. And how long would it take her to once again grow accustomed to being alone once she returned to the Thirteenth for good?

Zero carefully stood from the railing and started back down the walkway. The metal of her boots clanked against the decorated tile flooring while she navigated her way through the colorful city, the echo drowned out by the rest of the clamor around her. It was a strange feeling to realize she had joined the tiny insects in their skittering about. She now had someone to find. And so there she strode through hallways and across courtyards, the morning sun watching from its slow ascent into the pastel-painted sky. 

There weren't many places she had to check while she wandered about the city. The woman who had become the core of her search rarely stayed where there were crowds. Zero had thought she simply loathed her fellow mortals and that's why she chose to keep her distance. It hadn't dawned on her until they traveled to Garlemald and were thrown into the deafening silence of falling snow that maybe it wasn't necessarily the people, but rather the sound they produced. The first and last time she had seen the other woman so calm was when they were back on the Thirteenth. But silence, as Zero knows all too well, can bring with it its own set of problems.

Turning down another narrow street, she was careful to step aside as a group of small children came barreling past. Their shrill, joyful laughter rang above the city noise. Zero watched them go for a moment before continuing on her way. When there is silence, there are no sounds to distract the mind. All that's left is your thoughts to keep you company. She sat alone for weeks in her domain with only herself to talk to. Meditating, as it were. A necessity to retain her form lest she lost herself to murky water her soul had been tainted with by consuming lesser voidsent. But what would have become of her if she didn't have a clear image of herself to hold on to? Would she have turned into an amalgamation of all those she had consumed and taken aether from? Transform into something new? Or be reduced to a shell of her current self? Or perhaps she might have become nothing at all.

Zero's steps slowed to a stop, her gaze landing on the woman sitting a ways away on top of a flat stone with her back to her. Locks of pure-white hair were carried lazily in the gentle breeze, reflecting the sunrays that cascaded down over her. She sat still as a statue. Those walking past would glance warily at the frozen woman who had done absolutely nothing to garner their attention. She merely sat, attention fixed on the flowing water, not causing trouble for anyone or anything. And yet still people looked at her, whispered to one another as though she couldn't hear them. Mortals didn't make sense to Zero. That woman hadn't done anything...so why were they so quick to treat her as though she were no better than a spectacle to gawk at? Deserving of scorn and hate merely for existing...

Not caring about the curious glances she received from onlookers, Zero approached the woman. Though during all that time she spent wandering the city in search of her, she hadn't thought about what she'd say when she did finally find Remia. And so, unsurprisingly, Zero didn't say a word while she took a seat beside her. Remia didn't acknowledge her either. Here near the Meghaduta, it was quieter than the rest of the city. The sound of rushing water that flowed through the shallow river leading to the waterfall drowned out much of the racket deeper within the city. Even the chatter of those nearby was no more than incoherent white noise that faded into the background.

She glanced down at the item Remia held tightly in her hands. That same round mirror decorated with a crescent moon on its back. It wasn't often she brought it out for others to see. A momento that a dear friend left behind was how Remia described it when she had asked her about the keepsake. No other information was given, and Zero hadn't asked for more. She didn't need to hear how important this mirror was to her to know of its priceless value. The glint in her ivory eye said it all.

Remia's attention remained fixed on the rushing water while her thumb glided across the mirror's surface. She was deep in thought, eye not truly focused on the water but rather something far beyond what was in reality there. Zero followed her gaze out to the glittering ripples while the sun rose higher into the sky, illuminating the land. Whatever Remia was seeing, it wasn't real.

"Memories are fickle. They come and go, fade and fray, fracture and piece back together only for chipped parts to have been swept away while the left-behind fragments are fit together all wrong."

Zero tried to remember the conversation she had with Remia while she continued to quietly sit beside her.

"Mine? My memories aren't my own if that's what you're asking. They're a gross coalescence of all that surrounds me. Whatever emotions linger in the ambient aether, snippets of memories that haven't quite dissipated and are left floating aimlessly, even the stray thoughts of those nearby—those are my memories now. Whatever might have belonged to me in the past...those are long gone. All that remains are the memories of others linked to objects that bound us. If I don't have something to remember them by, their memories of our time together, and in turn my memories of them, vanish. It's as simple as that. ...hm? You? Heh, well, I suppose once we part ways, I'll forget you too. If you're not nearby, I can't recall our time together. And if we don't see one another for a prolonged period of time, I won't recognize you if we do happen to cross paths again years from now. Probably for the best, really. Ravn and her comrades have brought nothing but trouble after drawing Golbez and the archfiend's attention to you and your domain. I doubt you'll want anything to do with us once you've had your fill of this tiresome act of playing hero."

Zero's mindless question from earlier resurfaced. This would happen to her if she lost sight of herself. Swept up in everything around her until naught remained of her true self. Needing to rely on mere objects to retain some idea of the woman she once was. But even that was flawed since the memories attached to the objects belonged to someone else, the view of herself seen through the eyes of another. So what did that make Remia? Was she an amalgamation of how those she interacted with perceived her, or did parts of her manage to keep their form despite the onslaught of foreign memories attempting to erase her entirely? Was it inevitable that she'd continue to change in accordance with how the world viewed her? If that was the case, then it was no mystery why Remia pushed everyone away and lashed out with her silver tongue when those around her attempted to reach out. Everyone thought the worst of her so in turn she acted how they expected.

A growing unease spread throughout her chest, a frown tugging on the corners of Zero's lips. It didn't sit right with her how volatile this woman's existence was. And the fact that she cared at all about this mortal only made that knot in the pit of her stomach coil that much more.

"Is there a reason you're giving yourself so much anxiety?"

Zero's attention snapped to Remia who hadn't looked away from the river. Though the smallest smirk curling the feline woman's lips confirmed that she hadn't imagined her voice.

A light and breathy giggle escaped Remia at her question being answered with further silence. She tilted her head the slightest bit so she could look at Zero from the corner of her ivory eye. "By the way, you might want to consider greeting with 'good morning' the next time you come to sit with someone on a whim. Not everyone will be as comfortable around you as I am."

There was another long pause before Zero was awkwardly fiddling with her fingers where she left her hands resting over her lap. "Good morning." She said lamely, Remia laughing that much more.

"Good morning, Zero." Remia replied seamlessly while she looked up at the memoriate with a rare, genuine smile. "Is there a particular reason you've come to bother me this morning? Or did you run out of gil to pay for breakfast again?"

Zero's brows twitched slightly. "No. No reason."

"Really? You sought me out for no reason at all instead of going to eat your usual morning feast?" Remia's smile turned a touch wry. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Hm, I doubt that. But, if you say you're fine, I'll pretend to believe you."

As Remia's attention returned to the water, Zero continued to look at her. Took notice of how her hold on the mirror loosened and the tension in her shoulders had relaxed. What was it Remia felt between them to know something was bothering her..? And what was it she felt now that put her at ease?

Zero opened her mouth only to close it a moment later. She didn't know how to word her thoughts or ask the questions she had on her mind. It was difficult enough to navigate a normal conversation with the average mortal she had to speak to on occasion. But Remia? She's a mortal but oft felt more akin to a voidsent than a native of the Source making conversing that much more complicated between them.

With a soft sigh, Remia turned to meet her gaze with a near-mocking smile. "Zero, are you sure you don't want something?"

"I wish to replenish my aether."

"I'm not holding you hostage."

"I want you to accompany me."

Remia's uncovered eye widened just a fraction. "You want to share breakfast with me?" She asked incredulously only to laugh. "Now I'm beginning to question if someone is bribing you to do this. Don't tell me, was it Ravn? I've already told my dear sister I don't need more so-called friends to annoy me—"

"No one is bribing me. I want to replenish my aether with you." Zero cut her off. "Do you object?"

It was comical how genuinely shocked Remia was at such an innocent request. How she stared up at her, searching her eyes for any inclination that this was another cruel game being played. Zero could clearly see how baffled she was and she felt much the same. She didn't understand why her mornings were incomplete if Remia wasn't with her... Though, maybe this was just another thing she wouldn't understand and didn't necessarily need to. She dared to accept the fact that she enjoyed this woman's company, so, she came to ask her to go and replenish their aether together. Besides, Thancred said to stay close. Well, she's staying close...

Finally glancing off to the side, Remia shook her head, her smile softer now. "If that's all you came to ask, you can find someone else to eat with, Zero. I lost my appetite hours ago."

"We can leave once your hunger returns." Zero said, clearly having made up her mind that she wouldn't be replenishing her aether alone today. "'Til then, we can stay here."

Remia peered up at her skeptically. "Why is it you so vehemently insist on staying by my side? It's not as though I haven't upheld my end of our bargain."

"We no longer have need of our bargain. Our interactions stopped being purely transactional a long time ago." Zero reminded.

"That doesn't answer why you seek me out so often."

"You do the same and come to find me if we haven't spoken recently."

"I do no such thing." Remia huffed, narrowing her eye before childishly looking away.

A ghost of a smile spread across Zero's lips. "So, will you come to replenish your aether with me once your hunger returns?"

Waving her off, Remia reluctantly gave a small nod. "Fine."

✧*̣̩☽⋆゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜

I will never not find it absolutely adorable that Zero is the person who realistically understands Remia best. Remia being a human who acts more like a voidsent and Zero being a voidsent who acts more like a human has them meeting in the middle of the two extremes their homes represent and just ;-; they really understand and compliment one another and it's killing me with wholesome cuteness overload--

/) /) ~ ┏━━━━━━━━━━━┓ ( •-• ) ~ ♡ thank you for reading ♡ /づづ ~ ┗━━━━━━━━━━┛

[shadyvoidhologram]

Shit, I have so many stories I keep updating on my mind but I can't find the time or energy to actually write.

What's the fic you would write if you had the energy for it? Ambitious, complex, novel-length—the fanfic you'd make if you could.