#thank you for the comments! so glad they come off as eery and fae-like. that's definitely the tightrope i enjoy walking with them

[timeloooop]

this is a common theme found in a lot of lutece-fics but id love to see your take on the twins talking about and comparing the differences between their lives pre-particle and pre-columbia!! (you write them with such nuance and understanding and subtle eeriness it rlly hammers home the way they feel like . fae-like almost)

Last week, Robert existed.

This week, Robert still exists, but not in his world. Existence is less a question of evidence and more a non-compulsory attendance record. Robert remembers jumping through the tear: the unstable perimeter was a soft blue (blue, no doubt, because it is the smallest color; it spreads so easily and thinly, like butter) and buzzing from static electricity (a theory: two realties too similar will repel each other just as two negatively charged electrons do) that lifted the fine hairs exposed on Robert's neck and the backside of his hands. He also remembers seeing himself jump. He remembers first existing in this reality seven days ago, and he remembers existing in this reality thirty-one years ago, age four, ginger hair pooling past each shoulder (both longer than he ever remembers and as long as he remembers) and over a green striped shirtwaist with thin pleats (he both does and does not remember wearing as a child).

Robert's memories, it seems, are recessive. When entering another reality, the primary inhabiter's memories are dominant and chiefly expressed. All at once, upon entry, Robert inherited Rosalind's memories. A super majority of which are the same; most of his life is her life. Such unity provides stability. It is the smaller, intricate details that thin and scatter from him—like butter, like blue.

Immediately after Robert's arrival to Rosalind's reality, The Lutece Device short-circuited. Tears have been weaker and erratic, their strength and longevity far depleted.

In the shared Lutece laboratory, Rosalind slowly runs a rubber-gloved hand along a pair of thick fibre optic cables that are connected to the field conductor stationed in the middle of the room. Any fissures, no matter how minuscule, would be highly detrimental to the output levels. Luckily, they're easy enough to detect, if present at all: fissures in the cables, when touched, feel like tiny shocks beneath the skin even while wearing protective gloves.

Robert stands below the corresponding collider dome affixed to one of the two main metal pillars. His arm is raised above his head to reach the collider's conductive surface. In his hand, he holds a modified oscilloscope that translates the electricity levels emitting from the dome into decipherable green wave lines. He reaches for a dial just left of the collider to recalibrate the output, but it's absent. There is no dial. He rubs his hand around the flat slab of metal, groping for that which is not there. Blood trickles from his nose. The dial is on the right. He remembers the dial is on the right. A familiar yet foreign pulsating pain swells deep behind his eyes. Something clatters to the floor. He looks, Rosalind looks. The oscilloscope. The hand that was holding it is pinching the bridge of his nose.

Rosalind is near Robert in three quick strides. Her speed towards him physically imitates the sensation of falling backwards. Or, an alternative hypothesis: he is falling backwards. His head is light. Everything considerately and considerably softens in sound just as all noise feels shrill and distant. Splotches of black begin to enter his vision. He should sit down. Fortunately: his body may well already be rapidly approaching such a destination. Unfortunately: the impact will hurt. Fortunately/Unfortunately: he likely won't be conscious for it. Rosalind grabs the end of Robert's tie and pulls—hard—altering his fall trajectory to the opposing direction (i.e. towards her) and averting a collision with the metal pillar.

Twenty-two seconds later—Rosalind times it—Robert comes to. His lips feel wet. His chin, too. He's low. They're on the floor. He's cradled in Rosalind's arms.

«What did you think?» «Right.» «Right.» «Right is right.» «Yes...» «Left is left.» «And up is up and down is down. Now nothing is left: what did you think?» «Nothing is left.» «Yes.» «No.» He must think this correctly: «There is no dial on the left.» «I see.» Rosalind plucks a white handkerchief from a hidden pocket in the lining of her suit jacket and wipes the blood from Robert's face. That is a new habit of hers. She didn't have a handkerchief with her during his previous fit and had to leave his side to locate one. Robert finds this amendment equally touching and maddening. How often is she worrying about him? To divert her attention to him, with a mind like hers—like theirs—is like siphoning all the heat of the sun to hatch a single chick. He would like her to worry less. His eyes crinkle-twinkle:

«B positive.» «I’m trying.» «No, my blood is B positive, should the bleeding cease to stop and I require a transfusion.» Rosalind rolls her eyes. Robert smiles. «What de trop detail. You know we share the same blood type.» «Precisely so: we share everything. Including the same sense of humor.» Rosalind hides away a smile, poised and composed, in much the way a lady is meant to carefully fold and store her undergarments—as though the smile itself is, to her, far too defamatory or revealing. «Lean forward.» She hooks the side of her index finger beneath Robert's round chin and the pad of her thumb presses into the small dip of skin below his lower lip. The fit of her thumb in the delicate dip of his chin feels identical to her own chin. She finds this familiarity not likable or unlikable, simply likely (a cursory note: the skin of his face is smooth, as smooth as hers; might Robert's hormone levels prevent him from growing a beard? they've been together for a week and she's never seen him shave or any evidence of shaving (no hair trimmings clinging to the shallow basin of the bathroom sink, no razor resting alongside her perfectly parallel hair fasteners)). She tilts his head down.

«It is commendable your sense of humor still remains intact given your current state. But it is your other, more physical senses I worry for.» «I see, I hear. Yes, I smell blood. Yes, I taste it. An alarming state, but I propose the opposite would be far worse.» «Seeing and hearing blood?» «No, I mean, not smelling or tasting the traces of blood present on and in my person.» «Hm.»

Despite their similarities, there is still an entire lifetime of Robert's that Rosalind is not privy to. Not in the way he is to hers. For her, it's guesswork or interrogations. She's envious. She's curious. «Do we differ?» A perfect flash of overlap surfaces in Robert's mind. Of his world and of hers, different and alike; his nose does not bleed. «At university, they would not admit you due to your perceived gender. You told them there was a mistake in your application. You were, in fact, Robert Lutece, not Rosalind. For four years, you dressed like me.» She smiles. «I wore a lot of ill-fitting trousers.» «You had to be me. Let me be you for a time.»

[shera-dnd]

Had to split a simply colossal chapter into two smaller ones, so here is the first of those

Now featuring the faes’ true forms and an ungodly amount of simping

“I believed we had our winner when Lady Polendina got that perfect bullseye,” Weiss retold as she walked with her companions through the festival grounds, “but Lady Rose managed to, and I still cannot believe it, split her lover’s arrow with her own!”

“I’m certain there is an innuendo to be found there,” Ilia commented, earning her an offended scoff from the would-be-knight.

“Must you?” Weiss asked in exasperation.

“Believe me, Lady Gigas, she most certainly must.” Blake assured her, “but please continue. I’d love to hear more about our favorite couple.”

“Well, after they had finished utterly humiliating me in the shooting range,” she regaled, “they decided it was time to do so again in the sparring fields.”

“What is it with you knightly folk and sparring?” Ilia asked, seemingly annoyed, “is this your means of courtship? Were Lady Rose and Lady Polendina inviting you to join them in their tent?”

“It is a means to maintain our skills while coming to better understand each other!” Weiss countered, “and just because I now know where my preferences lie does not mean I’ll fall for the first woman to best me in combat!”

“Of course,” Ilia replied, though Weiss found no reassurance in her tone, “after all that honor would fall to Lady Blake, and we all know her preference is for women two times your size.”

“I have never claimed otherwise,” Blake replied with a shrug, “now would you mind procuring us some dinner, before you make our friend pop a blood vessel.”

“Very well,” Ilia sighed, as if she had been burdened with a terrible quest, “I shall meet you both back at camp. Please, do torment the Schnee in my absence.’

She offered them an over exaggerated bow and made her way deeper into the festival grounds, quickly disappearing amidst the crowd.

“You do know I could have just made us dinner, right?” Weiss asked, annoyance clear in her tone.

“And I’m certain it would have been delicious,” Blake replied, “but I’m not certain it would have been worth your sanity.”

“Of course.”

She hated to admit it, but she did not mind this at all. In fact she quite enjoyed the little trading of barbs that they partook in every day. It made for some interesting entertainment, and it allowed her to know Ilia a little better.

She was also quite enamored with the little laughs that would escape the fae whenever she got Weiss to make a fool of herself. No, she most definitely did not wish to question why she found Ilia’s laughter to be so endearing.

Definitely not.

Weiss decided then to archive those thoughts, and focus instead on the second most embarrassing topic in her mind.

“Thank you,” she muttered as they began making their way back to camp.

“No need to thank me,” Blake waved off, “wouldn’t want you two to strangle each other.”

“No, I meant…” Weiss sighed, “thank you for calling me a friend.”

Blake offered her a soft smile that only served to embarrass her further.

“I’m glad I got to call you that,” she replied, “and I’m sure Ilia thinks the same, even if she’ll never admit it.”

That got Weiss to smile back. Her life so far had been one of isolation, she had barely met anyone outside of the few select guests her father would allow into their manor, and had failed to find anyone who cared for her with the exception of Winter and Klein. But now she had been able to adventure beyond the walls of Atlas and find people who she could call friends.

Without Ilia with them to incite arguments and pester her, the rest of the walk back to camp was held in a comfortable silence. Though Weiss certainly missed the opportunity to get back at her friend for the earlier annoyance.

“If I may,” Blake began as soon as they arrived at their camp, “would you mind if I spent the night in my own skin for a change?”

It took Weiss’s mind a long moment to register what she meant by that request, but when it did she jumped to attention.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She asked, looking around to make sure no one had heard that.

“Our camp is secluded enough,” she shrugged, “and no one ever comes here uninvited.”

“If you’re sure,” Weiss replied, “then I would not mind.”

Blake smiled at her in thanks and began undressing herself. Weiss promptly turned to look away, eyes focusing on anything but her naked companion. What followed was a series of noises that she would fail to describe, though they tempted Weiss to look back at her, if only to make sure that she’s okay.

After a moment of silence she heard the heavy thump of something heavy hitting the ground, followed by Blake’s familiar voice, “you may look again now.”

Where once stood the proud Black Knight of Vale now sat something else entirely. Her form had grown tremendously, now easily challenging that of Lady Xiao Long, and her body had grown completely covered in black fur, with a small white spot on her chest and two others on the back of her now clawed hands.

Her hair too had grown longer and wilder, and the face that hid behind it now took the features of a feline, especially her golden eyes which now reflected the bonfire’s light with an eerie glow. Behind her sway a long black tail, though mostly catlike it was adorned with thorns and purple flowers.

No, not adorned, that plant was as much a part of her body as her tail.

Stunned was perhaps not enough to describe the state in which Weiss found herself right now. She had been raised on stories of the terrifying and monstrous fae that hid in the forests beyond the walls of Atlas, and though Blake’s true form definitely fit that description, she still carried herself with the same grace and nobility that she did in her human skin.

She was still a knight, and she was still Lady Blake.

Unfortunately Blake seemed to take notice of all the staring, “if this causes you discomfort, I could change back.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Weiss assured her, “I was simply unprepared.”

Pleased with that response, Blake began to vigorously stretch herself as if she had spent many hours locked inside a tight space - a comparison that was perhaps too appropriate for her much smaller human form - and behind her her tail swayed happily.

“I haven’t been able to don this form since we arrived for the festival,” Blake informed, “it is good to feel like myself again.”

“It won’t be good for long if the local knights decide to take our hides,” the familiar and ever cheerful tone of Ilia’s voice called as she approached camp and unceremoniously dropping a basket between the two of them, “though do enjoy your dinner while you can.”

“Thank you, I certainly plan to,” Blake replied, seemingly unfazed by Ilia’s usual foul mood, “now come, sit, take off that damned glamour for once.”

Ilia stared at her, as if she was trying to will her fellow fae to stop with this nonsense.

It did not work.

“She will not give in, Lady Ilia,” Weiss said, “we’ll already be in plenty of trouble if we’re found in the presence of one fae, a second one won’t make a difference.”

Lady Ilia was unamused by Weiss’s commentary, “and what, pray tell, is your plan in case they do find you in the presence of not one, but two fae?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, standing up so she would be on the same level as her, “I’ll have a heroic last stand where I’ll fight off a dozen knights, before rescuing you on horseback.”

“Is that so?” Ilia asked, trying to keep her lips from twitching.

Weiss stepped closer.

“Oh yes, and then we’d ride off towards the sunrise and you’d…” she paused for a moment, trying to remember something, “what was it you said? Swoon and praise me for my strength and bravery.”

“Didn’t you say you held no attraction towards swooning maidens, Schnee?” Ilia teased, her smile slowly beginning to take hold.

“I’d be simply fulfilling my knightly duties, Lady Ilia,” Weiss insisted.

“You know what, Schnee?” Ilia began, with a smile on her face as she closed the ever shrinking gap between her and the Schnee, “I think I will doff this damned glamour, if only so I can watch you get skewered by those dozen knights while I flee on horseback by myself.”

“I’ll make sure to make it entertaining to you, my lady,” Weiss assured her, now face to face with the smiling fae.

A chuckle escaped Blake’s lips, earning her the most terrifying glare from Lady Ilia. The knight was, of course, unimpressed, seeming to consider a comment in her mind before reconsidering and letting it die without being voiced. A decision that Ilia greatly approved.

“Now will you please cast away that glamour of yours and relax for once,” she said instead.

“Very well,” Ilia surrendered with a sigh.

For a moment nothing seemed to happen, but then it was like the Ilia Weiss had known had shattered like glass, and what stood behind the illusion could only be described as breathtaking.

Eyes of light blue turned into pure glowing white, freckled skin turned to thousands of scales woven together into a tapestry of color. On her forehead now stood two large thorns, almost like a pair of horns, though they exuded the same regal air as a proper crown.

Lady Ilia then disposed of her - now much bleeker looking - dress to reveal a growth of leaves and vines covering her more...intimate places. Still it was not her crown nor her naked form that had Weiss in awe, it was her wings.

They were not unlike those of a butterfly, though no butterfly could ever hope to match their beauty. They were the light of her eyes fractured again and again into more colors than Weiss's mortal eyes could see, all of them weaved together in a pattern that could make even the stained glass of Atlas's grand cathedral look plain by comparison.

It took all of Weiss’s will not to fall to her knees in worship of the beauty she had been given the privilege to bask in. Though it didn’t seem she was able to completely hide her reaction, as when their eyes met she saw surprise in Lady Ilia’s face, and for a moment it was as if every fragment of color in her body had turned to the brightest of pinks.

“Should I give you both some space?” Blake asked, tail swaying slowly behind her.

“Absolutely not!” Lady Ilia shouted, sitting back down and refusing to look back at the still stunned wannabe knight.

It was now Weiss’s turn to shift through several shades of pink. She whispered a silent prayer that the gods would return to Remnant if only so the God of Destruction could completely remove her - and her shame - from the face of this world. This gave her some time to recover, at least enough that she could sit by the campfire with her companions again.

Unfortunately for the both of them that awkward tension lingered over the camp like a thick fog. It did not help that neither of them found it within themselves to look at or even address each other. They left it all to Blake to rescue them from their self imposed punishment.

“Ilia,” she called, “I believe you had questions for me.”

Lady Ilia seemed to take a few moments to recognize that she was being spoken to, but bolted up in attention as she understood the opportunity that was being given her.

“You���ve yet to tell me how you came to join the humans,” she reminded, “or why iron doesn’t burn you.”

That piqued Weiss’s interest as well. She knew Blake had to have some kind of magical trick to don her armor without burning herself alive, perhaps if she could share that secret they could use it to help those fae who wished to live among humans.

“This isn’t some trick you can replicate, Ilia,” Blake explained, killing Weiss’s plan on the spot, “this is not a weapon the unseelie can use.”

Ilia let out a sound not unlike a growl, showing that her teeth were much sharper than before.

“Not everything I do is out of spite for humanity!” She almost shouted, and her body shifted into bloody reds and harsh yellows. Though that display clearly failed to intimidate her fellow fae, earning herself only a raised brow, a reaction that caused her to change colors once more, this time to pinks and blues. “You left us. I want to know why.”

“But I have already--”

“No,” she interrupted, colors shifting over and over through her body, unable and unwilling to settle, “you don’t just change your mind like that for no reason. I want to know what happened.”

Blake sighed, tail wrapping around herself as she seemed to deflate, “this story is quite long, Ilia.”

“So is the night,” Ilia countered, “come, tell us.”

Blake looked at her, then at Weiss, who offered her her most reassuring look, “very well then.”

[thoughtfulfangirling]

Hello! I’ve started to follow you only recently, but I like your blog a lot! Anyway, for the Halloween fandom ask, may I request Nanami from RGU? Thank you!

Hey! Thank for the ask and the comment. Glad for the follow ^‿^ Hope I don’t disappoint! lol 

What/who do they dress up as for HalloweenI feel like this shouldn’t be hard, but it is. Nanami likes things just so, so there’s no way she’d just buy a costume online or from a store. She’d probably commission something, something elegant and flattering. But what precisely? Princess it out of the question by the end of the series. Queen might be too close to all that, but I think she would like the idea of the power that comes therein after realizing a system against her. Sooo… I think I’m going to go with a Fae Queen. Another sort of Fairy Tale but one where notoriously the women are in power and the system seems utterly unrecognizable from the ones she grew up with. It would be elaborate and beautiful, but there would be something to the costume that would make her seem eerie, untouchable, aloof. 

How much time they spent on that costumeHonestly, I don’t think she’d think about it until someone asked about Halloween plans or she went over what kind of parties she wanted to throw next. When it came to the big Halloween bash coming up in a month or so, she’d figure it out and commission the piece. The very first time she put it all together into on cohesive but breathtaking piece would be the night of the bash. 

What this person does for Halloween (Hand out candy, go Trick o’ Treating, spooky events…)Costume party, preferably masquerade and likely hosted by yours truly. I’m thinking something much like the party Allison’s family is throwing in Hocus Pocus when Max and Danielle arrive trick-o-treating!  

Their Halloween date & who/what they dressed up asI don’t have a particular ship for her, so it’s hard for me to think in those terms, but I think if she did have a date, she would only think of their costume as an afterthought. In this instance, I’m not sure she’d want a Seeley consort nor servant, so this particular costume probably wouldn’t be a couples one. 

Whether or not their date pressure them into a costume or vice versaHahahahaha!! Someone pressure Nanami Kiryuu into something? Very funny. You either lead her to something and make her think it was her own idea, or it don’t happen. 

Their favorite thing about the Halloween seasonBeing able to get all dressed up and show off her skill and talents in hosting/designing, etc. 

Their least favorite thing about the Halloween seasonJuri Arisugawa showing up and seemingly attempting to upstage her, also seemingly effortlessly. Why did she invite her to another party?? Oh right, they’d become friends. But still! Gawd!!