#thinks about aether <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coffeeghoulie · 2 months ago

Text

broke the mold (change will come)

chapter 4: i will never believe in anything again

so it's been a while, huh? I spent the last month or so working on another project, and that's finished and earned approval from the people I wanted it from, so it's finally time to give you all this. since it's been a hot minute, I am linking chapters one, two, and three if you need to get caught up or refresh your memory. Thanks for sticking with me!

Contains reconciliation and what it means to forgive. The bittersweet thought of making peace with where you came from. Bonding moments and coming home. Walking the lines between dreams and religious visions. A return to faith. Becoming someone you were always meant to be. 15.2k.

I hate to put this on hold again, but I will be working on Chapter 5 after Mushy May. To tide you over until then, I do recommend reading (or rereading, if it's been a while) Eternal Heatstroke. It'll make some things in chapter 5 make a little more sense ;)

Much thanks again to @mintea-in-space for all of the Cardinal Consulting <3

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

All things considered, Aurum knows what it’s like to walk on eggshells. He falls back into old, painfully familiar patterns after the fight and the Cardinal’s too-gentle scolding. He makes himself as small as he can in the already cramped bus and backstage.

Thankfully, the vitriol lessens with time, as slowly as it may come. The Cardinal had told them all to apologize, but so far, everyone’s been avoiding the behemoth in the room, and it’s not affecting the shows. At least, as far as Aurum can tell from up on his platform.

It hurts, a little bit, to be so alone up there while he watches the rest of them interact and fool around. But he knows what he’s done. He does not blame them one bit.

He slips into old habits, makes himself quiet and as still as he can manage until the lights go on and the Rituals begin. The moment he walks backstage after bows, he tucks all of himself back into that little shell, minds his own business as he changes and cleans up and helps tear down. It makes him sick to think about how comfortable it is to confine himself again.

But he does it, because he does not want to risk going back. That will kill him, and he will take the half life over that.

He hops off of his platform and follows the Cardinal out of sight of this gathered crowd as Miasma starts. It is dark and warm with body heat backstage, despite being away from the blinding spotlights. It is a reprieve, gets most of the eyes off of him. Aurum knows he has no real room to complain about the attention, knows that it is his duty, the reason he is Up Top.

But it doesn’t mean the quiet doesn’t go unappreciated.

He moves quickly, helping the Cardinal change from one tight suit to another. The Cardinal looks back to the stage entrance, and there’s a look that Aurum recognizes in those two toned eyes.

“I imagine-” he says, words catching in his throat. The Cardinal head whips back to him. The Eye burns the crown of his head even through the balaclava and chrome mask. “Forgive me, Cardinal.”

“Bah, enough of that,” he says, waving a gloved hand in Aurum’s direction. He helps him step back into his shining leather shoes. “No more of the formalities, my ghoul. I think we are past that point, no? Call me Copia.”

This change has gone much faster than normal, still a few minutes left before Miasma ends. Nihil’s corpse hasn’t even been hauled on stage yet to be resuscitated.

Aurum’s brow furrows as he takes in the Cardinal’s words. “Thought I was in your service,” he says, waiting for the Cardinal to gesture and wave him back to his feet from where he’s crouched. “Thought it was respect or something.”

“I think, out here, I am not your superior. We all are part of the show. We are a team, no?”

Aurum nods and straightens his suspenders from where they’re slipping off of one of his shoulders. “I suppose so.”

The Cardinal- no, Copia takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders. They wait together in the dark. “Have you spoken to the others yet? About the, eh, disagreement?”

That’s sure putting it lightly. “Not yet, Copia,” Aurum breaks eye contact. “I, uh, a little too nervous yet.”

“But you’re so cool and composed out there,” Copia knocks a fist loosely against Aurum’s shoulder. Teasing, or at least, trying to.

“Yeah,” Aurum tries to flash a smile. The mask hides just how unconvincing it feels. The two of them settle back into near silence, the speakers making dust spill from the ceiling as the bass rattles the entire building.

He’s struck by a burst of curiosity. Guilt and shame come up with it like acid at the back of his throat. “Copia?” he tests, shifting a little on his feet.

“My ghoul?”

“I think you know I’m not exactly religious,” Aurum says, carefully watching his own tone, trying to keep it neutral. “I’m doing my best to keep up with the rest of you doing all of this. But do you think He makes mistakes?”

Copia laughs. It sounds relieved, Aurum thinks. “I think He does. I deeply believe that He is fallible. But I believe, just like His children, He does His best. We are made in His image, after all, and He has never once claimed to be perfect. We cannot expect perfection from ourselves.”

Aurum takes a deep breath. His head spins. He convinces himself that it’s just too hot back here. “That, that’s not exactly what I was led to believe,” he mutters, rolling up his sleeves to counteract the heat. Aurum crosses his arms over his chest, scuffs his shoe against the concrete like a petulant kit. “Not really reassuring, either.”

“We all make mistakes, Multi,” Copia says, setting a gloved hand on his shoulder. “But the difference between the Olde One and His Forsaker is that one mistake will never bring about the end times. I don’t know who taught you that He demands perfection, but the Prince knows we are flawed and accepts that of us. He knows we cannot be perfect.”

“One mistake won’t,” he breathes. Aurum slips somewhere in his mind he doesn’t want to be. Imagines voices he hasn’t heard in centuries. “But if we keep making mistakes? Or we know we’re doing bad things and keep doing them anyways?”

“Then there are consequences,” Copia shrugs. “Real, earthly consequences. My predecessors made mistakes. And the Clergy… removed them from power, so to say. But that’s not exactly a fair example. I don’t know how much the Serpent Deceiver tipped those scales. But if we know we’re doing bad things, we cannot be surprised when they come to bite us.”

“And if they kept happening, over and over again, and the consequences never came? If they got away with it?”

The Eye stares right into his very core.

“Oh. I see.”

Aurum’s not exactly sure what Copia’s seen. Something deeply vulnerable that Aurum’s never said aloud, no doubt. Nihil’s saxophone blares, and both men startle, starting to head back to places.

Copia leans in, and just loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd, he whispers. “For what it’s worth, Multi, I pray that consequences will come. For whoever made those mistakes. I pray that He sees.”

Aurum takes a shaky breath. Shakes out his hands. “Thank you, Copia.”

The Cardinal flashes him a smile and the show goes on.

The days pass in the buzz of a busy routine, travel during the days, put on a show at night, pile back on the bus to do it again in a brand new city. Aurum’s reminded of walking the Circles, seeing all these new places, even if this time it’s through the blur of motion on endless stretches of highways.

It takes a toll on all of them, and Aurum even more so, still walking on eggshells as to not provoke another blowout fight. There’s a little voice that itches to poke the bear, the same one that’s always whispered to him, but he’s so exhausted that it’s easy to ignore it.

Aurum is quick to learn and appreciate the reprieve of a hotel night, rooms randomly assigned but outfitted with actual, full beds that blow the size of the bus bunks out of the water. It’s been a little dicey since the fight, but everyone is equally ready to just pass out on a comfortable mattress that there hasn’t been any room sharing incidents.

Copia hands out keycards in the lobby of a hotel in some city that Aurum can’t remember the name of and can’t be bothered to try. Distantly, he sees Copia hand the matching card to Dew and winces.

Inconsiderate son of a bitch rings through his mind, a phrase yelled in several different voices, and he shakes his head to rid himself of the intrusive memory.

Dew pays him no mind. The fire ghoul rolls his shoulders, careful not to disturb the duffle bag bigger than his torso slung over one of them. Aurum watches him glance to Mountain, and then to Aether.

He must feel Aurum staring, because he turns to meet his eyes, blue and burning through the human glamour he’s wearing. Aether follows his mate’s gaze, and there’s no mistaking the anger there. Aurum looks away as the pack breaks for the elevators. Copia’d been saying something, but it’s lost to him.

Aurum reshoulders his own bag and follows the pack.

To very little surprise, Dew doesn’t go to the room number they’ve been assigned. Instead, he follows Aether into his and Mountain’s room. “I’ll be back after a while,” he says nonchalantly as he passes Aurum. He nods, lowers his head and unlocks the door.

Two queen beds. A nightstand. A dresser. The door to the adjoining bathroom. Nothing new here. Aurum sets his bag down on the bed furthest from the door. He's not worried about waiting up for the smaller ghoul. Dew's got his own keycard. It'll be fine.

The hotel room is identical to the dozen others Aurum's been in since he and the others left on this tour. He tosses his bag onto the far bed, grabbing his toiletries and ducking into the bathroom. Dew's not here to bitch at him about hogging the shower, he might as well take advantage of it.

The heat of the spray makes Aurum groan, eyes fluttering shut as long tense muscles start to relax. He's been wound up for so long, his back protests as the water hits it. The tile warms under his feet. He can feel every drop trail down his body, the pressure and heat blissful.

If he were feeling particularly sacrilegious, he’d call it heavenly.

He doesn't know how much time he spends in the shower. He washes his locs thoroughly, fills the bathroom with the scent of the hotel-supplied soap on the steam, scrubs the grime of touring from his body. Aurum even lets go of his glamour, carefully washing his horns and claws.

He goes to wash his face and winces at the sharp scrape of stubble against his palms. He doesn’t mind the stubble normally, but for some reason, right now, the sensation is driving him up the wall. There’s a razor in his bag, figures now is as good a time as any to shave.

Aurum turns off the shower, the pipes creaking as the water stops. He squeezes water from his locs, dries off perfunctorily before wrapping the towel around his waist. The steam billows out after him as he steps into the main room. He shivers against the air conditioning as he grabs his razor and shaving cream, stepping into a pair of boxers, because of course he forgot to grab his clothes.

Dew hasn’t come back yet, the second bed on the far side of the room still made pristinely, almost military. No trace of him or his belongings. Aurum just shrugs and steps back into the bathroom. No reason to be worried quite yet. He takes his time shaving, making sure he catches every last bit of stubble.

It’d been starting to itch, drive him a little crazy. But the feeling of smooth skin lifts a little bit of weight from his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, floods his lungs with sandalwood and steam, and rinses his face clear.

The mirror’s been steadily clearing, a rush of cooler air from the main hotel room fighting against the steam from the shower.

When Aurum lifts his head from the sink, water droplets rolling down his cheeks, he meets someone else’s eyes in the mirror.

The razor clatters in the basin of the sink. All Aurum can hear is ragged breathing. He grips the porcelain so tightly he fears his strength will leak through his glamour and shatter it. But that’s all an afterthought.

None of it matters.

Because Ignis is staring right back back at him.

His baby sister’s all grown up from the very last time Aurum had seen her. Her eyes are wide, lips parted. Damp locs falling loose down her bare shoulders.

The shred of logic left in Aurum’s brain reminds him that of fucking course he sees her in his own reflection, they’re siblings, they looked alike once upon a time, they share the same features. But Aurum can’t look away.

The barrage of every single emotion he’s pushed away for centuries hits him. Pins him in place like an insect on a corkboard. All of the guilt and anger and fear. He’d betrayed her and Tilly when he’d left home. Willed himself not to think of them and his ultimate, unforgivable sin.

He doesn’t know what happened to his sisters after he wasn’t there to take the brunt of Pyra’s anger for them, and the thought makes his stomach churn violently. Had they been able to hold up perfection like a shield the way he never could? What had he doomed them to? What had happened to his sisters?

Iggy keeps staring at him in the mirror. His eyes are going dry but he can’t blink. He thought he’d never see her again and here she is and she hates him, panic and fear bright in her eyes.

Aurum shakes his head hard.

Iggy shakes her head at him and then she’s gone, and he’s just left with his own reflection. He pushes back from the sink before he sees anyone else in his own features, stumbling back into the main room. There’s a pair of scissors in his bag. He’s not quite sure where he picked them up from, but that doesn’t matter.

He needs to cut off his locs and he needs to do it right this fucking second.

It’s how Iggy’d worn her hair their entire lives until he’d left her behind in that hell. He doesn’t want the reminder of what he’s done any more. He can’t bear it. He doesn’t know if he’s going to vomit or just straight up shatter into a trillion tiny shards for the ghouls to sweep up when they find him.

He finds the scissors shoved into his bag, the metal sharp and silver and shining in the lamp light, and rushes back into the bathroom. The door creaks, but Aurum can’t hear it over the sound of blood moving with his hammering pulse.

Aurum gathers up all of his locs, opens the scissors with a squeak from the hinge. He takes a deep breath and goes to close the scissors just above his shoulders.

Someone clears their throat behind him.

He freezes. Muscles tense almost to the point of pain. Aurum blinks back into his body. Feels eyes on the back of his neck. He does not look away from the mirror, but sees someone standing in the threshold to the bathroom in the reflection.

“Whoever it is you see in there, doing that isn’t going to make them go away. Believe me.”

Dew’s voice is rough, and so, so tired. His thin lips quirk up in a sad smile. He gestures halfheartedly to his own hair, where the copper strands rest choppily against his shoulders. Dew smiles sadly.

Aurum looks back to his own reflection. Tries to find Iggy in there again.

She’s gone.

All that’s there is his own face staring back at him. And that hurts worse.

Aurum hears the clatter of metal on ceramic, too loud and rattling in his brain, knees buckling so hard he has to grip the edges of the sink for any chance of staying standing.

Distantly, he sees Dew’s eyes go wide in the mirror, pushing up off of the doorframe and approaching him.

“Multi,” he says, quieter than Aurum’s ever heard him. “Multi, can you hear me?”

Aurum can’t look away from his own eyes. Dew moves even closer in his peripherals. He’d growl in warning but his voice is gone, Iggy’s taken all of his words from him.

A shaking hand touches his shoulder, burning warm. Aurum’s breath hitches violently at a touch too gentle for him to deserve. “I- I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry, Dew. I’m so sorry for this, don’t touch me, I can’t- don’t-”

Aurum’s voice chokes into sobs, and he hates himself for it. He collapses in on himself, shoulders curling in. His knuckles ache but he doesn’t ease up his grip on the edges of the sink.

Over his shoulder, Dew gawks. It makes the shame ignite in his chest, burning and painful and just makes him sob harder. His head hangs, vision growing blurry and fast.

“Hey, Multi,” Dew tries again, pulls himself together, stoic like the ghoul he’s been watching on stage for weeks. The warm hand never leaves his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He can’t bring himself to protest as Dew leads him out of the bathroom. Barely registers sitting down at the foot of one of the beds, scratchy covers under his thighs. Dew’s hand shifts down from his shoulder to between his shoulderblades.

Aurum tries to pull himself together. Cuts himself on broken pieces as he holds them tight to keep them from shattering across the room more so than they already have. Dew doesn’t- Dew should be- He slumps forwards, shoving his face in his hands, propping his elbows on his knees.

“Don’t be nice to me,” he hisses through hitched breaths. Every muscle in his body tenses nearly to the point of pain when Dew’s hand leaves him for the slightest moment. It returns just as fast as it’s left and he cannot stop himself from melting into it.

He can’t even deny himself that tiniest point of comfort even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it. At the very least, not from Dew. Anybody but Dew.

But, somehow, Dew doesn’t share this sentiment. He doesn’t pull his hand away, watches with horrified concern as Aurum digs the heels of his hands into his eyes in some futile attempt to staunch the tears. ‘We are meant to share our burdens,” Dew says, not accusatory. “We were not meant to do this alone.”

Dew stays, and Aurum is greedily grateful, a tiny bright spark in the sea of disgust and shame crashing inside of his body. Even as he cries himself out, his fire evaporating each tear before it can drip from his chin, Dew stays.

“I’m- I’m supposed to be fire, this isn’t right,” Aurum chokes out. “I shouldn’t be this.”

He can feel Dew’s eyes burrowing into the side of his head. He curls even further on himself in a way that would be comical for a ghoul of his size in any other situation.

“What do you mean?” Dew whispers. It’s softer than he’s ever spoken to Aurum in the few months they’ve known each other. “Multi?”

“I’m fire. My mother and father are both fire. I shouldn’t be this,” he practically spits. His hands fall from his face, furiously picking at the dry skin around the base of his claws until it stings. “I’m wrong, this is wrong, I’m just a bad fire ghoul. He made me fucking wrong. I shouldn’t be here, you’re right.”

Dew stays silent for a painfully long moment, and Aurum feels the shame and fear rising. His body tenses, ready to lunge or run or do something.

But then Dew sighs, and the hand leaves his back and he flinches hard. The sound of fingers raking through fine hair and something like beads running against each other. Dew presses something warm and smooth into his hands, and his eyes fly open to find a familiar mother of pearl rosary resting in the palm of his hand. Aurum startles.

“I can’t take this, I’m not- He doesn’t-”

Dew sighs again. His thin lips quirk up in a half hearted smile as he presses the rosary firmer into Aurum’s grip. “It helps to have something to hold onto, at least when I feel like this.”

Aurum swallows hard, shame turning to guilt. The pearls on their strand pool through his fingers, Dew’s warmth baked into them. “Sorry-”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, copper hair brushing over his shoulders. Another deep breath as Aurum struggles with his own. “You were right, you know?”

Aurum whips his head to face Dew, all pretenses of hiding his tearsoaked face gone. “What?”

Dew glances up to meet his eyes. He doesn’t seem to care how bloodshot and puffy they are. “You said you saw a water ghoul when you were summoned. You were right.”

“Oh- I’m-” Aurum flounders.

“My dam was fire,” Dew says slowly, not quite making eye contact. “But my father is water, and I was raised with my aunt’s school, out in the Fifth. I barely had any fire. Just had to struggle a little with my magic and no one who wasn’t important knew that I was anything but water.”

“What happened?” Aurum whispers, unable to temper his curiosity. He scrubs moisture from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Dew shrugs. His smile turns sadder and he stares at the wall. “I was summoned, served dutifully as the water ghoul in the Project. And then, when things got… shaken up, before you came. We needed a new fire ghoul.”

Dew’s voice hitches, but he does not call attention to it, so Aurum just watches and listens, fidgets with the rosary in his hands. Tries to remember what each bead was for and fails.

“And we got you when the Cardinal tried summoning his first ghoul. I don’t know why they started him with fire. Fire ghouls are difficult to summon, even for the most skilled summoners. But you were his very first ghoul, and the Clergy thought you weren’t going to pull through and they still needed a fire ghoul, so I volunteered. And now I’m this.”

“’M sorry-” Aurum tries again.

Dew whips around to face him. There’s something burning in his eyes and Aurum holds his ground. “Don’t be. I chose this. Even if I have no fucking clue what I’m doing and most everything I know is gone. And I think, I think we’re in the exact same boat.”

Aurum blinks. Takes a shaking breath as deep as he can. He nods.

“We’re both the first of our kind, Multi,” Dew sighs. He looks away. His spindly fingers twitch in his lap and Aurum is struck with the motion to hand his rosary back to him. Dew laughs softly and accepts, winding the strand of pearls between his knuckles. “You are the first multi-element ghoul to survive a filtered summons, and I’m the first ghoul to, all my gratitudes to the Olde One, successfully survive an elemental transition.”

“I- I don’t know what to say,�� Aurum admits sheepishly, his tail curled around his calf. “I don’t- we’re not- those are different.”

“Not by much,” Dew shrugs. He glances to the smoke alarm above the door before summoning a shaky ball of flames, no bigger than a quarter, in his palm. “We both survived something thought unsurvivable. I’m learning to be something that I’ve hidden away all of my life. And from what you just told me, you’re doing the exact same.”

“Doesn’t give me the excuse to threaten you like that,” Aurum mumbles. The flames in Dew’s palm are whisked away, vanishing into air.

“Multi, you don’t scare me,” Dew shrugs. “And I don’t think I blame you. And I know I haven’t seen you at Mass or in the chapels back home-”

And isn’t that a novel concept, Aurum thinks. Home.

“-and I don’t know if I’m crossing a line. But I do truly believe that we were not created to handle our problems on our own. That the Prince meant for us to help each other. Despite everything, I want to make this pack work, Multi. Doing this, serving the Prince, playing His praise, is how I worship and make peace with everything that’s happened. I hope, maybe someday, that it’ll help you too.”

Aurum turns to look at Dew, takes in his profile as the fire ghoul stares straight ahead at the tackiest décor he’s ever seen in his life. They sit in silence for a moment. Aurum knows what he’s supposed to say, but those two words sit heavy in his throat and refuse to budge. Exhaustion wracks his body, the afterimage of his baby sister’s face seared into the backs of his eyelids.

“I want to do this job,” Aurum breathes. He watches Dew’s ear twitch, but there’s no other reaction. “I want this to work. I don’t want to go back.”

Dew huffs a laugh. “Megs put in too much effort on you. He’ll put up a fight before you’re sent back to the Pits, and he’s too valuable a ghoul for the Clergy to lose.”

Aurum doesn’t focus on what that particular statement means. “Thank you,” he whispers instead.

“I know the Cardinal wants us to apologize,” Dew says nonchalantly. “And I will. I’m sorry for getting in your face and pushing you for a reaction. I was trying to demand perfection against my own beliefs. Because I know what happened the last time people I cared about made too many mistakes.”

Aurum’s breath hitches, vision blurring with tears once again. Dew’s hand finds the small of his back and he cannot help himself but lean into it. He doesn’t trust his voice. Dew doesn’t seem to mind at all.

They sit like that for long enough for Aurum to cry himself out, silently barring a few hitched, wet breaths.

Dew stands, offers him a sad smile. “It’s late, we’re back on the road in Lucifer only knows how few hours.”

Aurum nods, wipes the last of the moisture from his freshly shaven cheeks before his body heat makes them steam away.

“And for what it’s worth, Multi?” Dew says as he turns away to rummage in his bag for a clean shirt. “He doesn’t make us wrong. He makes us like Him.”

He takes a deep breath, lets that sit in the very core of him, and starts to get ready for bed.

Aurum dreams, tossing and turning in the luxury of a full sized bed. She smiles at him, the exact same as his own, and then she’s gone.

When he wakes to the sound of Dew praying softly, he’s not upset at the sight of Ignis in his dream the way he might have, once. He holds her close to his heart and gets up to get ready. There’s no use trying to change where he came from. He has nowhere to go but forward.

They soundcheck He Is at the next Ritual. Aurum sings and plays and warms up with the rest of them.

But his eyes are locked on Dew, kitty corner on stage from his platform. They aren’t wearing their masks or balaclavas, the summer heat just on the wrong side of unbearable with the sun still in the sky, blinding and bright. Dew’s copper hair catches the light, choppy as it hangs loose over his shoulders. It glints like wrought metal, and almost reminds Aurum of the adornment he once wore.

He can’t help but think about that last conversation. About the undeserved gentleness he’s never seen from the fire ghoul.

Aurum is not a pious ghoul. Sworn up and down he’d never think of the Prince again. He knows the irony of that, standing here alongside the Prince’s very own Mouthpiece, singing songs of worship and praise disguised as a rock show.

He watches Dew as the chorus ends and Dew steps a little closer to the edge of the stage for his solo. It’s not complicated technically, far simpler and calmer than the guitar solos Dew plays during the rest of the setlist.

But Dew shuts his eyes, fingers flying gracefully over fretboards and strings and he almost seems to sink into it. His breathing is deep and steady and if Aurum didn’t know any better-

He remembers the other parts of that conversation. Music as worship and as prayer.

Aurum stares at Dew. At the ghoul who’d comforted him when he didn’t deserve it. Who’d been going through his own hardships and remained just as faithful as when he went into them. He remembers the feel of those pearls sliding through his fingers.

He shakes his head with a little smile, readjusts the weight of his own guitar over his shoulders, and carries on.

Aurum had learned quickly on the road that his and his fellow ghouls’ duties did not exist solely on stage; helping offstage after the Rituals is just as important, and Aurum takes the opportunity happily. He and Mountain and a human roadie load a bus with crates of electronics needed for the stageshow. It’s heavy and it’s physical and his body aches from weeks of hard work but it is satisfying in a way that feels content.

And the best part is, he’s not expected to talk. As long as the work is done properly and somewhat quickly, he can keep his mouth shut. Mountain seems to enjoy the quiet. Aurum isn’t going to step on any toes, remembering the way Mountain loomed over him. Tossed him back to an angry, vengeful quintessence ghoul like it had meant nothing.

Mountain huffs, hauling another crate of equipment onto the bus. Aurum startles a little at the noise. The earth ghoul’s already dripping sweat from the Ritual itself, and he watches bead after bead slide down from his glamoured hairline.

Aurum works in silence, taking a crate from the roadie and sending it Mountain’s way. He shuts his eyes for a second, lets the haze of adrenaline coming down dull his mind for a moment. Doesn’t have to think, just needs to haul crates. Can be useful in a way he knows for certain he can be.

“I’m not going to apologize for what I did, Multi.” Mountain says, breaking the silence. Aurum freezes, looking up from the crate of electronics to try and meet the earth ghoul’s gaze. It doesn’t work, Mountain not even looking at it. “I know the Cardinal wants me to, but I cannot.”

His hackles raise a little, and if he were unglamoured, his ears would pin back.

Mountain notices his pause, looks up. Emerald green eyes burn in the dark, just a little too bright to truly pass as human. He huffs, top lip quirking up in a tiny smile before he shakes his head. A sweaty strand of auburn hair slips out from where he’d tied it back and drapes over his forehead. “I’d be lying if I did,” he says, like that’s reassuring at all. “And I don’t regret it at all.”

Aurum stares for a moment longer. He can’t get a read on the older ghoul. The human tech behind him clears his throat, and he startles, handing the crate in his hands to Mountain before taking the next one.

The earth ghoul pauses once the crate is stowed, glancing once at Aurum. “That’s a little harsh, I understand-” and Aurum wants to scoff, a little harsh? But he’s never heard Mountain speak this much at once, and he wants to listen. He has to try.

“But I will do anything to protect Aether and Dewdrop, and you got in between me and them. They are the last pieces of the life that used to be mine. I didn’t fight hard enough for the rest of it. I- I didn’t fight for them. I ran. And I will never make that mistake again. And I will not apologize.”

Mountain turns, leaving that to sink in for a moment. “Wait- what do you-”

“Did Copia ever tell you how he got control of the Project?” There’s no malice in the older ghoul’s voice, just curiosity. “Why we needed so many new ghouls?”

He shakes his head. Mountain takes the last crate and stows it, closing the compartment on the bus. The human tech whose name Aurum can’t really remember disappears back into the venue, leaving the two of them somewhat alone in the cool night air. Mountain leans up against the bus, groaning as he stretches his back.

“He didn’t tell me,” Aurum says, rolling an ache out of his shoulders. “Just that he needed new ghouls.”

Mountain takes a deep breath. Takes his hair down and reties it, meticulously sweeping back the little auburn wisps that had escaped his hair tie with his effort. “I don’t blame Copia for what happened. I knew him briefly before, he seemed content to run the Treasury. I think he had very little to do with the change of management for the Project. But before him, I served Papa Emeritus the Third. He summoned me. And Aether. And Dewdrop. And-”

His voice hitches violently, and Aurum reaches out, stopping short of actually touching him. Mountain huffs softly, and to Aurum’s horror, those emerald eyes get even shinier.

“And when my Papa no longer was a satisfactory Mouthpiece for the Clergy, they- He was deposed and murdered. Along with his brothers. His own father-” Mountain growls, lip curling up in a snarl. “And then. With our summoner gone, my pack, and the packs of ghouls summoned by my Papa’s predecessors, started to go missing. One by one. Starting with the ghoul they intended for you to replace. Until only three of us remained. And frankly, I don’t even think I was meant to survive. I think I just got lucky. I miss them.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurum whispers, finding the courage to rest a hand on Mountain’s bicep.

“Don’t be,” he says lightly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, bright and gleaming in the dark. “You had nothing to do with it. This was before you came.”

“But I made things worse,” he shrugs. There’s no self deprecation in it, objective as he can. “Lashing out for stupid reasons, I think.”

Mountain raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think they were exactly stupid, Multi. You’ve had your life torn up and you almost died for it. I understand why you’ve been lashing out, even if I didn’t agree with your methods.”

“I wasn’t thinking. And besides. It feels like the rest of you have been through worse. I’ve got no excuses.”

Mountain laughs. “That’s subjective, Multi. You lost your old life, and we lost ours. Pretty even playing field, huh?”

Aurum stares off at the city skyline. Mountain’s hand on his shoulder startles him, and he tips his head back just enough to meet his eyes. “I am, and I will not speak for Dew and Aether, trying to make up for what I lost. Make this new pack mine. Multi, listen to me, okay?”

He nods, feeling the weight and warmth of Mountain’s hand even through a layer of fabric.

“I have been angry for a very long time. It is exhausting. It is killing me. I do not want Dew and Aether to watch me succumb to it and lose another piece of their old life.” Mountain growls, and even in his human glamour, it’s low enough to rattle through Aurum’s bones.

He’s not afraid of it anymore.

“And I see that anger in you, Multi. And I know well enough that you were looking for punishment, back there. Not for this, but for something else, I think. I think you’re tired. Like me.”

Aurum blinks, eyes going a little wide and out of focus before narrowing sharply. “I- I think so too,” he admits, though he knows that he’s far more certain than he’s trying to let on. He’s been angry for so long.

“We need to find somewhere to put it. Our anger is a gift from the Serpent Deceiver Himself. Without His anger at the Forsaker, we would not have been created. But ours needs to go somewhere and I will not let you direct yours at the pack anymore.”

Aurum swallows hard. It’s hard not to lean into Mountain’s touch, the bigger ghoul’s hand still on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Aurum breathes, and the weight on his chest feels a little lighter. It feels cliché but he swears his posture melts a little with relief. “I’m sorry, I will do better.”

“I don’t ask for that,” Mountain whispers. “Just that you try.”

“I promise I’ll try,” Aurum’s quick to reply.

The earth ghoul gifts him a smile, almost mischievous, and pulls away with one last pat to the shoulder. “Alright, good to hear. Bus is packed, we can probably get going.”

Aurum nods, and follows Mountain as he turns to leave.

Things start to get easier. He’s starting to find his place, not putting all of himself neatly away when they leave the stage. He’s still nervous and restless and exhausted, but he thinks the rest of his fellow ghouls feel pretty similarly.

He doesn’t know how many Rituals pass after that, but there’s a night the show goes so perfectly that Copia pats each of them on the shoulder, offering the ghoulettes each a kiss on the knuckles. Copia asks Dew, Mountain and Aether for a word, promising it will be quick, and the four of them disappear into a side room. “Don’t wait up for us,” Copia says. “Go ahead and change, we will be but a moment.”

The door shuts before they can even nod in agreement. They stand there in the hallway, stunned for a split moment.

Cumulus tucks herself into Cirrus’s side, and the taller ghoulette laughs, tiredly but playfully shoving her away. “Come on, wait until we get to the green room. Lemme shower, songbird,” she laughs.

Aurum can’t help himself but smile as he follows the girls and Rain to the green room. He itches to take his mask and balaclava off, change into clean, dry clothes.

They pile into the room, the door shutting behind them, and Cirrus vanishes into the showers with a small pile of clean clothes. She kisses Cumulus on the cheek, her mask removed and set aside. “Braid my hair when you’re done, my loon?” Cumulus asks, just loud enough that Aurum catches it.

Cirrus smiles and nods, and slips into the bathroom. The sound of pipes creaking grates at Aurum’s ears, and then rushing water takes it all away.

He settles at a mirror, putting his mask and balaclava away and grabbing the makeup wipes to start work on his chin and eyes. The greasepaint there always is such a struggle to remove, but the wipes are nice and cool on his sweaty, overheated skin.

Rain flops over on the couch, arm slung over his forehead and eyes shut. “Fuck, ‘m so tired,” he groans, stretching out his legs with a wince.

“You could say that again,” Cumulus agrees, grimacing as she starts to detangle her hair, even though she and her mate both wear their hair braided up under their masks, it always ends up a tangled, knotty mess. She hisses as her fingers catch on a particularly stubborn snarl. “I love my hair, but Lucifer fucking Below I should just cut it off.”

“It’s so pretty, though,” Rain says, reaching up to card his fingers through his own sweat-damp waves.

“So much effort, though,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “And I love my mate, but it’s going to be so long until she gets back. We usually do each other’s, but I just want it done.”

Rain shrugs. “I’d offer to braid it for you, but my joints are fucking killing me. My knuckles especially, Lucifer fuck. Gotta talk to Aeth when he gets back.”

“Aw, poor bambi,” Cumulus coos in sympathy. “It’s fine, I can take care of it.”

Aurum blinks, staring at himself in the dressing room mirror. He sets down the wipe, makeup half removed. “I could do it.” He recoils a little, the words leaving him before he could process the offer. He finds, in the silence that follows, that he doesn’t wish to retract it.

Both of the others whip over to face him, and he can see their eyes in the reflection. Aurum takes a breath, sets his shoulders and turns around to face them.

There’s a look of apprehension on Rain’s face, and something similar that furrows Cumulus’s brows. It stings a little, but the way Rain had stumbled back when he’d shoved Dew flashes behind his eyelids. Aurum shows them the palms of his hands, tries to make himself as non-threatening as he can, which as the biggest ghoul in the room is a little difficult.

“I- uh- I had, have? I had sisters, once. I don’t know if I still have them. But I know how to braid hair,” he offers.

The look on Cumulus’s face softens, and if Aurum didn’t know any better, Rain almost looks sad.

“I mean, I understand if you don’t want me near you, believe me, I get it,” he’s quick to backpedal, not sure where the line is and if he’s crossed it.

The silence is only broken by Cirrus still showering, muffled by the thick, cinderblock walls. Aurum waits, wills his breathing not to shake. Tries to summon all the confidence he’d had on stage not twenty minutes ago.

Cumulus shrugs, and the tension is broken like it had never been there to begin with. “I don’t see why not,” she says, smiling brightly and so wide her round cheeks dimple.

Aurum lets out a breath he did not know he was holding and lets his feet carry himself until he stands behind her. She’s gotten the cloud of white blonde hair mostly untangled with her fingers, and it’s not quite the texture he’s used to, but he knows how to make it work. “Thank you,” he breathes just loud enough for her to hear.

She doesn’t stop smiling, reaching back until her pianist’s fingers rest on his forearm. “We got off to a rough start, Multi. Doesn’t mean we can’t make it better.”

He nods, sectioning out her hair. It’s soft and a little damp under his fingertips, and he can smell her fresh air scent. It almost reminds him of someone he’s vowed to forget, but different enough. New. Something he finds he likes.

“How do you want it?” he asks her. Aurum can still feel Rain’s curious eyes on him, but does nothing to dissuade the attention.

“Just a braid down the center, please, if you wouldn’t mind,” she says. Cumulus relaxes into Aurum’s hands, and he swallows hard at the display of trust, his hands, although claws are glamoured away, so close to her throat.

He nods. “’Course, I can do that,” he says quietly, fingers starting to weave, sectioning her hair and adding it to the strands of the braid. Her hair is soft under his fingers, and he’s so careful not to pull too hard.

Rain watches silently, and Cumulus starts to hum something soft and quiet. It takes a second, but he recognizes the tune as a call to prayer, something they’d used to play in the City. A familiar, easy melody. Peaceful, and so gentle in Cumulus’s voice that it hurts.

Aurum thought he’d never hear it again. He’s careful not to tighten his fingers in her hair, shuts his eyes and lets the muscle memory of his hands finish the plait. Slowly, cautiously, he starts to hum along.

He doesn’t see Cumulus’s smile, or Rain’s raised eyebrow, or the fond look on Cirrus’s face as she steps out from the showers. But he feels the energy in the room ease to something warm and comfortable, and he hasn’t felt so safe in such a long time.

Aurum realizes when he reaches the ends of Cumulus’s hair that he forgot to grab a hair tie for her. Before she can snatch one for him from her wrist, he reaches up and takes his locs out of their bun, quickly tying off the braid with his own tie as his hair falls around his shoulders. “There, that good?” he asks softly, careful not to break the warmth that’s growing.

Cumulus turns around to face him, her soft blue eyes finding his. “It’s perfect, Multi, thank you.”

The warmth that blooms in his chest at her approval has nothing to do with his element.

He talks to Copia again, at the next Ritual, alone in a quiet backstage as the rest of the band plays Miasma not twenty feet away.

Aurum kneels on the concrete as he helps the Cardinal step back into his leather shoes. This time, when the man extends a gloved hand down to help him back to his feet, Aurum brushes it away.

“I- uh, had a question for you, we still have a little time?” he asks. If he were unglamoured, his tail would be curled around his calf like a shy little kit.

Copia’s brow furrows a little, the concern rolling off of him in waves. Aurum’s quick to reach up to take his hand between his own.

“I’m okay, things are getting better with the rest, I just. Had a religious question. And figured you would be the one to ask.”

He relaxes visibly, hand curling around Aurum’s. “Ask away, my ghoul.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, gathering all of himself to meet the Cardinal’s mismatched eyes. The Mark of the Prince Himself stares back, the Eye looking right into his very being.

“How do I return to the Prince?” he whispers, almost quiet enough to be lost underneath the rest of the band. “I’m not saying I’m ready, I don’t know, I still feel- uh, well, deeply betrayed, and I have for a very long time. But I just- I want to know what I need to do if I am, Copia. I’m singing His praise and I feel like I have to mean it.”

Copia sinks down to his knees, lowering himself to Aurum’s level. He groans as his joints protest, and Aurum reaches to stop him but is waved off. “My ghoul, there is no fancy ritual or steps one needs to take to return to faith. We all, at one point or another, doubt or refuse the Prince’s love. Lucifer, I once turned my back on Him for close to a year before I attended seminary.”

Aurum’s brow furrows. “Is- Is it rude if I ask why?”

He smiles, a little nervous, but it soothes something raw and frayed in Aurum’s chest. “Not at all. When I was a boy, I was given up to my aunt and uncle. I do not know my mother. I was loved and cherished, do not get me wrong. But I could not stop myself from wondering what I had done that she did not want me. I thought, for a time, that the Prince had made me wrong.”

Aurum feels something sting through his chest, remembering the conversation with Dew, and before that, the countless prayers asking the exact same thing. His eyes widen behind the chrome of his mask “How- How did you change your opinion?”

Copia reaches out and cups the side of Aurum’s face, the leather surprisingly cool against his skin. “I learned that it was not my fault that my mother gave me up to my guardians. I am not responsible for her actions. All the Prince wanted from me was what I could control. And there are a great many things that I can control in my servitude to Him. The Prince may have made me flawed, but there is not a single human or ghoul who is without.”

Aurum swallows hard. The concrete bites into his knees through his pants, and he can’t imagine Copia’s faring much better. He offers Copia his hand and they both stand with a grunt. “And He won’t judge me if I’m not ready?”

Copia smiles, and the saxophone blares out on stage. He pats Aurum’s shoulder gently. “The Prince will wait. And I swear upon all of my studies and sermons that He will have open arms for you if and when you ever return. All you have to do is speak to Him, and He will listen.”

Aurum takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders. “Thank you, Copia.”

“Any time, my ghoul,” he says, and they break to take their places back on stage.

Even as things get easier, slowly trending upwards, there are still things that send Aurum crashing back to that base state of fear. Nights are frequently bad, his body exhausted and begging him for sleep, but dreams keep him restless enough that he wakes even more tired than when he’d turned in.

He can never remember them, but his body remembers the instinctual fear of fight or flight, muscles tense and ready for attack.

Aurum wakes one night in a panic, breath catching in his throat and his stomach churning, nearly smacking his forehead against the ceiling of his bunk as he jolts up. The rocking motion of the bus isn’t exactly helping either. He doesn’t remember the details of what woke him, remembers raised voices and sharp claws, but he couldn’t pick out who they belonged to. He’s, thankfully, a little grateful for it.

It takes a moment for him to fully take in his surroundings, and he nearly slams his forehead into the ceiling of the bunk again when he realizes the privacy curtain’s open and someone’s looking in.

A set of violet eyes glow in the darkness, and Aurum presses himself against the back wall, instinctively baring his fangs. They’re backlit, and Aurum’s mind races too quickly for him to put their identity together.

The ghoul sighs, and Aether extends a glamoured hand, blunt fingernails instead of claws. “You alright, Multi? Could feel you dreaming. It was- uh- loud.”

Aurum’s face heats, and he shrugs, desperately trying to pull up any semblance of a facade. “Sorry for wakin’ you, ’m fine,” he mumbles, not taking his eyes off of Aether’s hand for an instant. Hates the idea of the bigger ghoul knowing.

“I was already up.” He gives a half hearted little smile, a huff of breath through his nose, and brings his hand back to his side. “Alright,” he says, and even rattled as he is, Aurum can tell he’s not convinced whatsoever. “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m going up front instead of tossing and turning. Feel free to join me if you’d like.”

The older ghoul turns and leaves, and Aurum stays pressed up against the back wall for a full minute before even thinking about untensing. The rest of the bunks stay quiet, and Aurum breathes a long sigh of relief that he hadn’t woken anyone else.

A little voice in the back of his mind that doesn’t sound like his own asks if Aether was telling the truth that he had already been awake.

He tries to ignore it.

Aurum doesn’t know how long he lays there, the sound of breathing and the engine rumbling not enough to lull him back to sleep. He feels small and claustrophobic in a way he hasn’t in a very long time. He swallows, wincing at just how badly his throat hurts. He didn’t realize how thirsty he is.

He takes a deep breath and hops out of his bunk as quietly as he can. The lights up front are dim, though still a little brighter than the darkness of the bunks. He walks into the light.

Aether glances up from where he’s sitting at the booth, pencil tucked behind his ear and a thin paperback spread out on the table in front of him, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and catching the yellow overhead light. Aurum nods, keeps his head down as he opens the minifridge and grabs a bottle of water. He’s careful not to grab the special filtered ones set aside for Rain. Wants to avoid as much ire as he can even though things are getting better.

He pauses for a moment in front of the fridge, glancing over at Aether. “Water?” He asks, just loud enough for him to hear. “Or anything I could grab you?”

Aether looks over his shoulder. Aurum can’t read his expression, but at least it’s not outright vitriol. “If you wouldn’t mind grabbing me a water?”

Aurum swallows, nods, grabs a second bottle and shuts the fridge, padding over to the booth. He sets the bottle in front of Aether, getting a better look at the book open in front of the older ghoul; an empty crossword sits on the page.

“Thank you,” Aether says, and Aurum feels pinned by his gaze. He doesn’t look at him. Aether sighs loudly, gesturing to the other side of the booth.

He hesitates for a moment, the darkness leading back to the bunks ever alluring. A memory flashes in his mind: Aether with his fangs bared, fury in his eyes as he’d pinned Aurum to the wall. Frankly, he’d deserved it.

He takes a deep breath and turns back to Aether. He sits down.

Aether closes his crossword and sets it aside, taking a long drink from his water bottle. Aurum follows, not realizing just how thirsty he really is until he finishes half the bottle in one pull.

Aether just watches. When he sets his bottle down, he sighs, lacing his fingers together on the table in front of him.

“I haven’t exactly been fair to you, Multi,” he says.

Aurum’s so taken aback he physically recoils. “You have been more than fair to me, I’ve been a bastard.”

Aether sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Just- Just listen to me?”

Aurum puts both of his hands up. “Sorry, yeah.”

The older ghoul takes a couple deep breaths, opens his mouth to start talking but can’t find the words. He tries again.

“I had no real reason to be angry with you before you and Dew fought the other night,” Aether says.

Aurum hangs his head, lip twitching as he grabs at his own wrist. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I know,” Aether says. He sounds as tired as Aurum feels. “But I was angry with you from the moment you were summoned. For things that you had no fault in.”

Aurum looks up so fast his neck cricks. The look waiting for him in Aether’s eyes is centuries older than his vessel. Tired and angry and something distant that he recognizes seeing on Omega’s face.

“Mount told me that he’d told you about what happened,” Aether says, rolling his pencil in his fingers mindlessly. “About our old pack.”

Aurum nods wordlessly to confirm.

Aether turns, stares out the window into the dark of night. A flash of headlights passing in the opposite direction reflects in the round lenses of his glasses. “And Dew told me you’d found out about what happened to him?”

He takes a breath. “Only that he’d used to be a water ghoul, that- that I was right.”

Aether huffs a soft laugh, but it is nowhere near close to touching his eyes. “Nothing about how that had happened? Or why?”

“He said the Clergy needed a fire ghoul.” Aurum’s lip curls up in a half hearted smile. “I- uh- I was a bit of a mess that night when he told me. I- I didn’t, and still don’t, deserve his kindness. It wasn’t my place, and I was in no shape to press any further.”

The quintessence ghoul raises an eyebrow curiously. “Dew told me it was rough. You’re alright?”

What a loaded question.

Aurum takes a moment to try and process the weight of those two little words and isn’t happy with anything he comes up with. “I. I will be. Someday. Thought I was past all of this.” He gestures wildly behind him. “It just comes back when it wants to and puts me on my ass.”

Aether nods. “Oh, I know. Believe me, I know,” he says. He sounds so much like Omega it almost makes Aurum’s head spin. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through the unkempt purple strands of his mohawk. “I know, and this is where I owe you an apology.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” Aurum shrugs. He takes another drink of his water. Tries not to remember the way he’d egged Aether on in that backstage fifteen states ago.

Aether laughs, a deep chuckle that makes his eyes crinkle a little. “I acted incredibly recklessly and meant to cause you serious harm, Multi. That warrants an apology. And I am sorry, it will not happen again. As much as I love Dew, and will protect him with everything I have, I am also meant to do no harm.”

Aurum blinks, the words settling somewhere in his chest. “I- I don’t know-” he cuts himself off, gold eyes glinting in the low light.

The quintessence ghoul laughs again, a little less warm. “Forgiveness is up to you. You are not obligated to forgive me. Honestly, I don’t think I’d forgive me for that.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Aether just shrugs. “I didn’t ever want you to be hurt, you know?” he breathes. “I recused myself from your care when you were recovering from the summons because I knew my emotions made me a danger. But even with how much I’d been angry and grieving, I knew it wasn’t your fault for any of it.”

“Not even picking a fight with Dew for no reason?” Aurum asks. He knows he’s toeing for the line.

“That came later, and I have been thoroughly dressed down by the Cardinal for my behavior,” Aether says. “I can promise you that no harm will come to you at my hand ever again.”

“Thanks,” Aurum says, looking down as he finds his flannel pajama pants incredibly interesting.

Aether rolls his pencil between his fingers, something to hold onto. “And I do not want to use any of this as an excuse, but I believe you are owed an explanation.”

Aurum blinks, opens his mouth to protest, but finds that he wants to listen instead.

“I blamed you for what happened to Dew and I’m sorry.” It’s choked out, and Aether squeezes his eyes shut behind his round glasses.

Aurum’s hand slides forward across the booth table, reaching out on instinct, eyes wide and listening intently. Aether’s lip quirks up in a sad little smile. It’s an expression he’s seen countless times on Omega’s face.

“We’d just mated before his element was changed, and watching him, feeling him go through that ritual through our bond nearly killed me. Not even mentioning that it came so fucking close to killing him. And that would have broken- that was my worst fear. I almost told him no when he asked me to be his.” Aether takes a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes open, and the bright violet there bores into Aurum with determination, pins him to his seat.

“But I have the same faith in my mate that I do in the Prince,” Aether says. He does not look away. “And while I believed in him, that he’d pull through. It was not easy to witness even if I didn’t feel it through our bond. And on top of everything else we’d lost, I was angry for what we’d had to risk. I doubted Him. I didn’t know why I’d dedicated such a large part of my life to Him if pain and suffering were all I’d receive.”

Aurum swallows, nods. “I- uh- I know,” he says, because that’s all he can say.

“I blamed you because it was easy; were you not a multighoul, he’d still be mostly water and wouldn’t have risked an experimental ritual to please the Clergy. But it wasn’t you who made the decision that he had to change and I never had any real right to be angry at you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurum whispers. “I’m sorry for lashing out, and egging you on and getting you in trouble with the Cardinal.”

Aether laughs softly, careful not to wake any of the rest of the pack sleeping not ten feet away. “I forgive you, Multi. And I hope you’ll forgive me, in your own time. No rush.” He chuckles deep in his chest, and Aurum can’t help himself but laugh along.

“I think I do,” he says, after the laughter trails off, leaving only the sound of the bus’s engine rumbling as they travel. “Forgive you, I mean. The summoning hurt,” he admits. “I’m not sure if it’s anything remotely close to what happened to Dew, but Lucifer fucking Below, I’d never hurt so much before.”

Aether nods, purses his lips. “You were in rough shape, I saw you when you came through.”

“I remember seeing you and Dew and Mount before I blacked out. Fuck, that really hurt. ‘Specially because I did genuinely think I was fire. Don’t really have control over my other elements.”

“Quint and earth, right?” Aether asks.

He nods, picking at the skin around one of his claws. “It hurt so bad, and I think I dream about it sometimes. Among other things. Feel like I haven’t slept in centuries.”

Aether takes a long, shaky breath through his nose. “You could say that again. Didn’t sleep for two weeks until Dew woke up from the transition.”

Aurum tilts his head. Just watches the exhaustion settle on Aether’s face. “Did I wake you?” he asks again, offering a little half smile. “Tell me the truth.”

“Had my own dream,” Aether shrugs. “He didn’t wake up. Crumbled to ash in my arms. So once I checked on him- he’s sardined with Mountain right now- I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. So I came up here.”

“And then you heard me.”

“Then my quintessence picked up on your dream. Almost a little surprised it didn’t wake the others, because it was loud.” Aether winces, grimacing. “Someone was saying some awful things.”

Heat floods Aurum’s face, and he breaks eye contact. “Yeah. Don’t remember who it was, but yeah. I can imagine.”

“I’m sorry,” Aether whispers, genuine and sad, and Aurum can’t bear to think of what exactly the quintessence ghoul had witnessed in his dream. For once, he wishes he could remember the nightmare.

“Nothing to do with you,” he shrugs instead. He yawns, jaw popping with how wide it splits his face, baring his fangs. “Fuck, ‘m exhausted,” he laughs weakly. “How do you even keep doing this?”

Aether reaches out at that, puts his hand over where Aurum’s is resting on the table. “Day by day,” he says, and a little bit of magic eases between them and soothes the raw nerves left from the forgotten dream. “All we can do is one day at a time, and have faith we are on the right path.”

The magic is warm and almost carbonated, and Aurum struggles to keep his head upright. “Oh fuck, that feels good,” he slurs as the tension in his body starts to release. “Thanks.”

The quintessence ghoul smiles, his gold fang glinting in the light. “We should both at least try and get some sleep, huh?”

Aurum nods, struggling to keep his eyes open. They both stand from the booth and slink as quietly as they can back to their bunks. “Good night, Multi,” Aether whispers, holding his bicep for just a moment before checking on Mountain and Dew. Satisfied with what he finds in the darkness, he opens the curtain to his own bunk and climbs in, flashing him one more tired smile.

“Good night, Aether,” Aurum returns. He lays down, closing the curtain behind him. He’s just on the right side of too tall, snug in his bunk, but the exhaustion and quintessence ease him to sleep.

For once, he sleeps deeply and does not dream.

He falls into the rhythm, falling into step with the rest of his pack. (He’s not sure when he’s started thinking of the others as his pack, but it makes something in his chest feel so, so warm.) Days turn to weeks turn to months, and Aurum finally feels right.

Aurum realizes, singing Monstrance Clock at the end of a Ritual one night, that he thinks he’s ready. His fingers shake with nerves on the strings of his Hagström, wonders if what Copia told him was true. If the Prince will take him back despite his missteps.

He thinks it as he takes his packmates’ hands at bows, feels their energies flowing through him. The love and devotion they have for each other that’s starting to be turned in his direction too.

Tonight has to be the night. Before he loses the bravery to speak up.

The ride to the hotel is quiet, fatigue written deep across each ghoul’s face, and just as much, if not more, on Copia’s. Cumulus leans her head on Aurum’s shoulder, and he carefully rests his head on top of hers and lets himself nod off for a moment.

Keycards are distributed in the hotel lobby, Copia smiling fondly at him as he hands Aurum the card that matches Cirrus. He looks to the other ghoulette, where Cumulus has migrated to tuck herself against her mate’s side. Dew’s standing similarly close to Aether, swaying on his feet in an attempt to stay awake just a while longer, and Rain and Mountain are quietly talking, careful not to break the quiet peace.

Copia turns to the elevator, and the ghouls slowly start to follow. They cram into the elevators, giggling with exhaustion with how tight packed they are.

Aurum counts door numbers once he gets to his floor, looking for the matching number. But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and he freezes in his tracks and turns around.

Cirrus smiles at him, and Cumulus matches it. Aurum fights himself not to lean into her touch too much. "I know my mate's been scheduled the single room, but I'm joining her tonight. Enjoy the quiet, Multi."

He offers her a smile. He tries to make it reach his eyes. He’s not sure if it works. "Thank you, Cirrus."

She returns it, dark hair falling out from the bun she'd thrown it up into after the Ritual. The shaved side's almost grown in. He wonders if, or when, she’ll shave it back down. "Don't mention it. Get some rest, okay?"

Aurum looks away, glancing back sheepishly as his face heats. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It's alright," she says, reshouldering her bag. Cirrus leans in, presses her forehead to his so they share breath for a moment. "Good night, Multi."

For just a split moment, Aurum leans into the contact, gold eyes squeezing shut. "Good night, Cirrus. Good night, Cumulus."

The ghoulettes grant him one more smile as they walk away, slipping further down the hallway. Aurum waits, stands stock still until the door shuts and latches behind them. He turns and unlocks his own door.

Once he's alone, he moves with quiet purpose to where he set his own bag. The yellow light from the lamp casts his shadow large across the tacky wallpaper opposite him. Aurum rummages through his bag, pulling out the little velvet bag Omega had given him what feels like a lifetime ago.

He sits at the edge of one of the queen beds, the one furthest from the door, as he pulls open the drawstring. He pours out the contents, and Aurum turns the black candle and its shiny gold ceramic holder over in his palm. They haven't changed since the last time he pulled them out, but he examines them anyways.

The pit in his stomach that's been there every time he's thought about using them closes up. Like it had never existed in the first place.

Aurum swallows hard. He glances up to the smoke alarm above the door, cocking his head as he hems and haws for a moment. He sets the incense aside for later.

Making up his mind with a shrug, he slides off of the edge of the bed until the short pile of the cheap carpet presses into his knees through his pants. Aurum shuts his eyes, lets the coarseness ground him for a moment.

The nightstand between the two beds is just below eye level when he's like this, and Aurum thanks whoever's listening in for the convenience as he sets the candle holder onto the faux wood grain. The candle slides into place with ease.

Aurum stares at it, the untouched wick more intimidating than all three of the older ghouls had been after he'd put his hands on Dew. His breathing grows unsteady, and his hands shake in front of him.

He remembers the altar in the entryway of his family’s home, the five candles there in the gilded alcove. That last, desperate prayer in Saint Jezebel's Chapel before turning his back on everything he’d ever known.

Aurum takes a deep breath, laughing self-deprecatingly under his breath. After everything he's done, this is what gives him pause? A single little candle?

He reaches out and shuts off the lamp. The room is dark, and all he can hear is his own shaky breathing and the hum of the central air. Aurum shuts his eyes, willing magic to his fingers.

A spark jumps from them to the wick when he runs his fingertips over it, and the orange glow threatens to snuff before it properly lights. Aurum has just enough time to worry that it won't take before the glow swells into a proper flame.

It flickers, sending dancing shadows across the walls, the only light source in the room besides the light spilling in from the hall under the door. The wax starts to melt, pooling at the top, and Aurum takes a deep breath, watching the flame dance on the wick. He presses his palm to his sternum, feels his heart beat under his ribs as he stares into the flame.

"Infernal Majesty," he says, tongue feeling too big in his mouth. All of the prayers he remembers from his mother and father's lips have washed away like writing in sand at high tide. "Please forgive me, it has been a very long time since I have called upon You, my Prince and Lord. I don't know if I can do this properly anymore."

He laughs nervously, and the flame flickers. He hears the scattering of jewelry on marble and cringes. "I know I turned my back on You, Olde One, but I- I feared for my life and begged for safety and did not receive it until I took it with my own hands. I thought it was fair."

The flame flickers again, dimming for a moment, and he almost lunges forward, prepared to relight it. But Aurum's shoulders fall as the flame swells again, bright and gold and dancing. He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. He presses his hand to his chest, feels the swell of breath, the rhythm of his heart working behind his sternum.

"But that was You, wasn't it?" Aurum says softly, feels his heart beating under his palm. Proof that despite everything, he is alive. "I was going to try and wait and just bear it until they let me go. But I needed the bravery to stand up to them and leave. I thank you, Lightbringer, for loaning me a fraction of Your strength, what allowed You to turn Your back on Your Forsaker, so I could do the same."

He wonders if He's really listening. Aurum lowers his eyes from the flame, just a moment, to gaze downward. "I beg Your forgiveness, Infernal Majesty," he breathes, head bowed. "I sing Your praises, now, aid Your mouthpiece on the Surface to preach electric-"

Aurum straightens, eyes going wide. Memories from centuries ago hit him with force, but for once, they don’t hurt. "Shit, is that what she meant when she'd tell me You said I'd follow in her footsteps? Is this the service You saw for me?"

There's no real answer. A candle cannot speak to reply. He doesn't hear a voice or words, but he knows the warmth blooming in his chest. Not unlike a candleflame. Warmth and comfort in his very core that he hasn't felt in a very long time.

Aurum holds his hand over his heart and knows he’s been heard.

“Thank You, Lord, for allowing me to serve You. I pray I please You as messenger. That I carry the strength and pride to spread Your Word. Nema.”

He stays there for a moment, watching the candleflame dance before snuffing it gently.

Aurum sleeps easy then, exhaustion and the humming of the air conditioning enough a lullaby. The mattress cradles him, and the scratchy sheets are ignorable for once. Darkness takes him but does not take that precious warmth from his chest.

Aurum’s not surprised then, when he finds himself standing before the man who’s been haunting his dreams for centuries. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. He does not call out for his attention.

The flames flicker around them, dancing shadows on the walls of this too familiar dreamscape. The man’s shadow leaps and sputters, little tongues of light catching on bits of gold woven into hair and wrapped around curving horns.

Aurum takes a step forward.

The man tenses, and for the very first time, turns around to face him completely. And as he begins to walk towards Aurum silently, he is no longer a towering, looming creature.

He is just a man.

It’s like staring into a mirror. Aurum stares into his own golden eyes, mouth falling open as he tries to find words and fails. He reaches, fingers shaking. It’s a struggle not to fall to his knees.

The man smiles, something otherworldly shining in his eyes as he takes another step, and another, until he stands within arms’ reach.

“Thank you,” Aurum breathes, chest heaving. “I was so scared I wouldn’t be forgiven. I’ve wronged You over and over and over.”

He shakes his head, that smile still on his face, the warmth of it crinkling his eyes. Aurum watches himself step even closer yet, so close he can feel the heat of his own breath. “It had nothing to do with Him. It was you.”

The man reaches up to cup the back of Aurum’s head in a big hand. Fingertips calloused in a pattern Aurum knows intimately. He lets himself be pulled even closer, until foreheads meet and horns click softly together. They breathe together.

Aurum squeezes his eyes shut so he does not cry. Lets himself be held.

He wakes up peacefully. Blinks slowly awake. The pillow under his head is damp. He laughs wetly, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, and hauls himself out of bed to pack up.

He kneels at Copia’s feet that night during Miasma, half in supplication and half in a rush to get him out of that damn skin tight suit. “I think He came to me in my dream, last night. I prayed for the first time in Sisters only know how long. For forgiveness. And guidance. And then He was there.”

Copia’s eyes go wide. The Eye gleams in the darkness backstage. “He did? What did He say?”

“Not much,” Aurum shrugs, helping him step into the next pair of pants. “I think He forgave me? He looked like me. Or He was me.”

Copia hums as he shrugs on his tailcoat. “I think, perhaps, He wanted you to forgive yourself.”

Aurum lets himself sit with that for a moment. His body moves on autopilot to get Copia stage ready once again. “For the things I did to keep myself alive,” he whispers.

It’s not quiet enough for Copia not to hear it. He reaches a hand down to help Aurum haul himself back to his feet. “Exactly, my ghoul. For the things you have carried,” he presses a gloved hand to the center of his chest. “In here. I hope you know you have us to carry that load with you.”

He bites his lip, bowing his head and nodding. “Thank you, Cardinal,” he says. True reverence seeps into his voice and he doesn’t hate himself for it. “For everything.”

Copia opens his mouth to protest, but there’s a call for places, the sax solo blaring loud even through the walls. They both burst into startled laughter, and Aurum steals one more moment to pull Copia in by the back of the head. Presses the chrome covering his forehead to Copia’s carefully.

“I mean it,” he breathes, before parting and scrambling back to their places.

He sings louder than he ever has. He means every last word.

Dew’s guitar acts up towards the end of the Ritual, pickups failing and tuning going flat. Aurum winces as the line of Dew’s shoulders goes rigid with anger and frustration. He almost seems to shove it into the hands of his tech, normally treating the beloved instrument with a little more care. But that doesn’t seem to matter after it’s betrayed him.

He clings to Aether during bows, never more than two feet away. Aurum knows that while Aether’s visible attention is out towards the crowd, he’s already doing damage control. He’s a little too far to make out exact words, but he watches Aether’s lips move and Dew’s posture relax minutely.

Dew walks out of the green room in a huff, the faintest bit of steam curling from his nostrils as he holds back his glamour. “Need a cigarette,” he almost snaps. No one really reacts to this.

This is nothing new, Dew going out to smoke after shows before the rest of the band is ready to go. Aurum pays it no mind. He turns back to the mirror, scrubbing at the grease paint around his eyes.

It’s thick and sticky and if Copia hadn’t insisted on it, Aurum would have thrown the container away after the first show. He feels himself starting to crash, all the adrenaline from performing and the rush of the crowd leaving his body. His muscles are going to start to ache again soon, and the thought of cramming into his bunk later makes it worse.

He stops, takes a deep, sighing breath as he listens to the rest of the band chattering among themselves. Aether’s holding Rain’s hands, quintessence flowing into him to ease sore knuckles, a quiet word to Dew as he leaves. Mountain’s changing into a dry shirt, hair damp as he smiles and listens to Cirrus and Cumulus talking as they redo the braids they’d put into each other’s hair.

It’s in this quiet moment that Aurum realizes something that none of the others has picked up on. Dew’s cigarettes are still on the table, just barely obscured by a discarded chrome mask. He stands, throwing his locs up into a quick bun at the nape of his neck before grabbing the box.

The rest of the pack looks at him, Aether raising an eyebrow. Aurum swallows hard as he feels five pairs of eyes on him. He feels like a moth pinned to a board. “He forgot them,” Aurum weakly tries to explain. “Tryin’ to be nice.”

Aether nods, offers a warm smile and a flash of gold fang, and just like that, the five of them turn back to each other. Cumulus flashes him a bright, dimpled smile as she turns back to her mate and Mountain.

Aurum swallows again past the lump in his throat and leaves the room. He pulls his glamour up tight around himself, keeping his head down as he walks through the halls, stepping out of the way of the venue staff and the roadies.

At the end of the hall, there’s a door propped open by a large stone, a fluorescent red exit sign hanging from the ceiling above. Cool, fresh night air hits his nose long before he steps out of the threshold.

“Dew?” Aurum says cautiously as he steps out into the parking lot. It doesn’t take long to find the fire ghoul, leaning against the brick wall ten feet from the door. He’s rummaging through his pockets, muttering angrily to himself as he searches and comes up empty.

He whips around to glare at him, brow furrowed. Aurum can’t help himself but wince, and if he were unglamoured, his ears would pin back. “I- uh- they were on the table, under your mask,” he says, taking a step towards the fire ghoul, trying to shrink in on himself. Make himself as small as he can. “I didn’t take them, I promise, sorry to bother you-”

“Quit apologizing,” Dew says. It’s harsh enough that Aurum flinches on instinct. Dew takes a deep breath, looks out into the dark parking lot, the lights of whatever city they’re in blocking out the sky. “I mean. I’m not going to accuse you of taking them. You’re fine. Thank you.”

Dew takes the box when Aurum offers them to him. He flips the lid open, snatching one and putting it between his lips. To Aurum’s surprise, Dew then turns back to him, holding out the open pack. “One?”

“Thank you,” he says, taking a cigarette. Dew rummages through his pockets, assumingly for a lighter. “Wait, lemme-”

He snaps, a tiny, glowing flame appearing at the tip of his thumb, grinning teasingly. “Light?”

Dew turns, eyebrow quirking up as a slow smile curls his lips. “You shouldn’t be doing that out here,” he says, leaning in to accept anyways. “Someone could see.”

Aurum gestures out to the mostly empty parking lot. “It’s dark, don’t think anybody’s here.” He lights his own, taking a long drag. The smoke fills his lungs and he feels the tension leave him. Adrenaline starting to come down hard and fast. His hands shake as he holds his cigarette.

They stand and smoke together in silence for a little while. The summer heat leaching away, cool night air replacing it. Aurum watches the smoke curl away from Dew’s nostrils on an exhale.

“I- uh-” Aurum starts, wincing as he breaks the quiet. Dew turns to face him, copper eyes burning through the blue of his glamour.

“Hm?” he asks, ashing his cigarette. Aurum feels pinned, shrinks in on himself. Tries to make the broadness of his shoulders a little more palatable. Not so much a threat.

“I still owe you an apology,” he says. “More than one, really. A lot of them, for a lot of reasons. Starting with coming through that portal and being the reason all of this happened to you.”

Dew just shrugs. Aurum reaches out, hesitating before actually touching the little fire ghoul. “I’ve made my peace with you not being a fire ghoul and what that meant for me,” Dew says, like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. “It’s what His Infernal Majesty wanted for me. He sent you for a reason.”

He winces hard. Tries to school his expression. “You think He meant for you to burn?”

Dew shakes his head. Choppy strands of copper fall from where he’d tied them back for the Ritual, framing the sharp edges of his face. “He meant for me to serve,” Dew says, staring off into the lights of the city. “And I have been more than happy to obey Him for a very long time. It’s been the pride of my lifetime.”

Aurum stares at his hands. “You let yourself be hurt in His name?”

Dew takes a long, drawn out drag from his cigarette. The air smells of nicotine, almost acrid, but it’s a comfort. “There was about a week after you were summoned before I was changed. You were still touch and go. We didn’t know what was going to happen. I prayed on it. A lot. My mate had to drag me away to eat and sleep. Would have spent the entire time in the chapel between that and my grief had he not. I had a lot of things to ask of Him. Some questions were answered, and some I had to find my own answers for. And I came to the conclusion that the pain would be worth it. And so far, it has been.”

There’s silence for a moment. Aurum can feel Dew’s eyes digging into him. He speaks again. “Would it be fair to say that, whatever hurt happened to you, you didn’t think it was worth it?”

Aurum swallows hard. He coughs on the smoke. Dew just watches. “No, not at all,” he says eventually. “It wasn’t anything noble like what you had to- I was a kit. Ghouls I was supposed to be able to trust. I didn’t have much say in the, uh, hurt.”

“Oh,” Dew breathes, leaning back to blow smoke spiraling up into the air. Aurum copies. “I’m sorry.”

Aurum just looks at him. “Not your fault,” he says, turning back to his cigarette. He takes another drag and is grateful he’s not human. He knows he has to sing again tomorrow. “Turned my back on Him when He didn’t help me. Left the City over it. I couldn’t- It wasn’t hurt with a purpose. It just hurt. And now I’m doing this and I’m still not certain I believe in it. Feels wrong to. I’m trying. I dunno. It still feels kind of wrong.” He gestures back at the venue, over to the buses.

Dew just looks at him. He can’t read the look in his eye. “But you’re still doing it.”

“I didn’t want to go back,” Aurum says. “Copia said I could, when I first met him. Thought about it. The idea hurt too much. I was, uh, not in a good spot before I came through. Hurt too much.”

Dew lifts the corner of his lips in a knowing gesture. “Yeah, tracks. I know it’s something you carry with you. The pain,” He glances over, eyes glowing like candlelight, like the butt of his cigarette as he takes another drag. “I suppose I should ask. How are you doing with it?”

Even though he’s not looking, Aurum can almost feel the pity in Dew’s eyes. Something bitter swirls in his stomach when he thinks of that first real conversation with him, choked out through tears in some hotel room hundreds of miles from here. “I’m, uh, trying to make my peace with it.”

“How’s that going for you?” Dew laughs softly as his own words are said back to him, ashing his cigarette onto the pavement.

Aurum glances at him, opening his mouth to say something before thinking better of it. “I, uh, prayed for the first time since I was a kit last night.”

Dew’s eyes go wide. It’s not a surprised expression, rather, something that if Aurum didn’t know any better, would call impressed. “And how did that go, if that’s not pushing it?”

He takes a long drag off of the cigarette and tips his head back to let the smoke swirl out into the cool air. “Had a dream last night, afterwards. Or it was a vision. I dunno. I think He wants me to forgive myself. And that’s rich, saying that to you after what I did.”

Dew shakes his head. “We both did our own fair share of lashing out. I understand. I don’t hold any of it against you, Multi.”

“Thank you,” he says softly. “And thank you for helping me. I know I would have had a hard time helping me, if I were you.”

Dew just shrugs. “Was the right thing to do. Like I told you, we weren’t meant to carry our burdens alone.”

“I’m figuring that out,” Aurum laughs. “I did a damn good job of it until all of a sudden I couldn’t anymore. And that kind of blew up in your faces.”

He laughs, not unkindly. “Don’t apologize for that. You’re learning.”

Aurum opens his mouth to argue when he hears voices that he doesn’t recognize. Dew’s eyes go wide, and both ghouls fall suddenly silent.

“God, what a fucking show,” someone laughs. Three figures come into view, lit by the lights outside the venue, humans dressed in clothing that display the grucifix and the name of the Project. The Cardinal’s face is emblazoned on one of their shirts, and a face Aurum doesn’t recognize on another.

Dew winces at the sight of that face, and Aurum sidesteps closer, offers a hand on the fire ghoul’s shoulder. Dew leans into the touch.

“You could say that again,” a second voice laughs. It’s a young man, hair dyed bright purple, black lipstick and heavy eyeliner a little smudged with sweat. “Thank you for taking me out to see them.”

The third human laughs, a young woman with mousy brown hair and glasses. “Don’t mention it!”

“We hung out a little too late,” the first voice says. A taller woman with dark hair nudges shoulders with the other two. She’s grinning despite the chastising. “I swear, we should meet up more so we’re not hanging out so long that the roadies are done.”

Aurum and Dew share a glance, and Dew takes another drag from his cigarette. Aurum bites back a laugh.

“Sorry,” The man blushes as he laughs, evident even under the low light. The group keeps walking towards the exit of the parking lot. They haven’t seemed to notice the two of them where they’re pressed up against the wall.

“The ghouls were really cool,” the shorter woman says, glancing between her friends. “’Specially the guy in the back, I swear they’re putting on just as much a show as Copia is.”

The man laughs, and the taller woman shoves him playfully. “What were they calling him again?” she asks him. “You should know, you were fawning over him all night.”

“Shut up,” he complains, but there’s no heat in his voice. “They’re calling him Swiss online,” he replies, and Aurum’s eyes go wide. “Like a Swiss Army knife. ‘Cause he does a little bit of everything.”

The two women laugh. It carries on the summer air. “Swiss Army Ghoul, huh?” the taller says.

“Sounds about right.”

They disappear into the night, on their way home with the memory of this particular Ritual to keep, and Aurum blinks. He can feel Dew’s eyes staring at the side of his head. He swallows hard. Something that’s felt out of place for so long falls into order like the last piece of a puzzle.

He glances to Dew and almost recoils in surprise at the fond smile there.

Dew drops his cigarette and grinds the sole of his boot over it. “Swiss, huh?”

Aurum- no.

Not Aurum. Not Aurum, or Fire, or Multi. Not anymore. Never again.

Swiss laughs. It almost sounds like bells. “I- You know what, Dew? I think so.”

“Well then, Swiss,” Dew says, and he’s beaming. “I think we’ve left the others waiting for long enough. Don’t you think?”

He nods. Rolls his shoulders and snuffs out his own cigarette. He can’t stop smiling, his eyes crinkled and cheeks aching with how wide it is. Swiss doesn’t want to ever stop.

Dew kicks the rock propping the door open aside, holds it open. Swiss follows him inside.

The door shuts with a resounding thud behind them.

#behold the healing arc!#buddy boy needed it. and so did dew and aether and mountain #one day i would like to talk about the era 3-4 transition as a survival horror fic. i think that would be fun #i hope i did the return to faith well. i have never been religious in my life and i hope i did it justice #this is the final chapter of the main story. chapter five ties up some loose ends but I do consider it the first of two epilogues #dot's writing #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #cardinal copia #ghost fanfiction #broke the mold #eternal heatstroke

23 notes · View notes

candycryptids · 1 year ago

Note

hewwooo tuesday here's a silly little question for you since your "check it out, frogs!!" blog title always delights me: how do each of your characters feel about frogs? 👀

I *love* Frogs, but how do the blorbeans feel about em...? Well... I had to really think about it TTuTT BUT! Chuu favors mechanical creatures over flesh 'n blood ones, and while her getting to the First is ambiguous and mysterious (being a non-wol, I just try not to think about it too much) She DOES... love the Dwarven Mecha frogs. And. The biggest frog of them all... Formi.... <3 …. So she doesn’t care for frogs much. She has sent Tuesday out frog catching for alchemical ingredients though….

Colette... Doesn't have any feelings this way or that about frogs, really. They're small, they're kinda slimey? but mostly they're just, very small. Except Gigantoads, I suppose, but those are a toad, and decidedly less slimey, by virture of being a toad. The ambivalence remains though! They're not that tricky to fight so long as you know how to wriggle out of their tongue grasp. (I did... take some frog-related Colette pictures tho >:3 I'm just gonna, post em a bit later, since the theme got away from me) Gigantoads make for a decent enough meal so long as you prep the meat right :T the legs are the most edible part yk.

Ishi is much more fond of Poro Roggo's, Matoya's froggy familiars. They're wearing LITTLE HATS ! They wave little canes! They're quite frankly adorable and they have little croaking voices. What's not to enjoy? (And also, there's something really nice about being out in the marshes of Mor Dhona and finding a little frog instead of a Morbol ready to stink bomb you, HAH)

Tuesday shivers when he thinks about frogs (knows the difference between a frog and a toad, still pictures a Gigantoad first, and does not much love being yanked mid-cast from his Ley lines into body slamming range.) Finds just a regular little frog endearing and will get down in the mud and muck to look at it though. Is especially fascinated by frogs that stick to things like leaves and trees and their camouflages uwu He’s the one who likely knows the most about frogs, and would gladly tell you more about them. Probably compares information with Erenville, if they ever meet up in non-life-threatening-situations.

Tangy finds them fun ! If she’s on a walk or a run or an errand and it’s drizzly and she sees a little frog hop across the pathway there’s literally 0 inhibitions in her body that stop her from also hopping or skipping for at least a minute (still on her way, but a frogs leap is so charming. They’re like tiny dragoons! She points this similarity out to Estinien once. Krile laughs, Estinien looks constipated- you know the face.) She also has a weird compulsion to put them into her mouth, though, so if she catches one….. make sure it’s not poisonous. She doesn’t even plan to eat it! They just look like they would fit perfectly in her kitty jaws (she is sometimes correct).

Mochiie had to get used to frog song when he moved to Gridania. The rivers and lakes and greenery abounding let the little critters thrive in a way they don’t particularly on the Steppe. …. He comes around to finding it relaxing and feels uneasy when he doesn’t hear them anymore lmfao. In non-WoL au’s, probably sometimes tasks adventurer’s with catching frogs for alchemical ingredients OR to bring back to the pond he’s been carefully maintaining to encourage the little beepers to live in it. (Btw, his favorite frog singers are the Pobblebonk or Banjo Frog [YT Link], and the Pacific Chorus Frog [YT Link] 🥰)

Levraut…. I’m still not sure. 🤔 I think he’d like them, but he wouldn’t feel strongly about them. He WOULD eat them though. As would Colette and Mochi… I mentioned Tangy liked to stick them in her mouth but actually eating them seems like a waste, since she’s so big and they’re so small. Like eating a blueberry. I can say his favorite frogs would be the Blue Jeans Poison Frog, for their striking jackets of warning colors, and the desert rain frog, whose perfect spherical nature and grumpy face is endearing.

#ASK GAME #TY FOR THE ASK? I got to think about frogs a whoooole bunch and it’s got me feelin like a sparkling lemonade #me personally? I’m always biting at the bars between me and the Devs wanting a mount that looks like one of their Gigantoads. idk how you’d #even ride on it I just. want it. LMFAO #also I didn’t get poses for everyyybodyyyy but I did have fun taking these screens uwu!!!#I also listened to a bunch of frog calls….. poison dart frogs make such a cool noise it’s wild #somehow picturing Lev with a Frog was akin to plopping an alien in front of him I could noOT figure out how he’d feel about them!#if I had my self-Insert character done up I woulda done a bonus of me with frogs lololol #but I was having trouble getting even just the one frog for Ishi 🫢#ffxiv Chuu #ffxiv Viera #ffxiv Miqo’te #ffxiv Ishi’li #also…. uhm…. the Boys ™ are still in ARR gameplay wise so even though by all rights they should be a DRK and an AST I didn’t uh.#I didn’t have any MCDF’s made up for either of them 🫢🫣 cos we haven’t >> Designed em yet #so please accept DRG Kizuna and his tummy and Nin Ishi and his. hair that’s a little short #OH ALSO THEIR SCRINKLE CARBUNCLE BC THEY HAVE POOR AETHER POOLS #the WoL has 10k. Ishi has like. 3-4k. he gets trained to Always Be (Lucid) Dreaming for the MP regen #I wanted to post this today and do more screenshots before hand but the Maint is gonna gunch me first #Cos Im finishing endwalkers with my husbaaaand !#Please enjoy what I have. Ishi tripped.

11 notes · View notes

lanternlightss · 10 months ago

Text

i hope i am not just a mutual to you but one you can rely on to be obsessed with nameless bard.

#if you cannot count on me to be bonkers over nb then i have failed </3 #sorry im still thinking about . him #thank u to aether for tagging me earlier that made my day #like hi omg …. bard tagged …….#lantern says stuff

10 notes · View notes

torgawl · 1 year ago

Text

heart of naberius (which lead rhinedottir to disappear and tell albedo to uncover the truth and meaning of this world, leaving behind one of the last extant manuscripts of the opus magnum) being similar to the chinese name for gnoses, 神之心 "heart of god" cannot be a coincidence, right? skirk also called the gnoses "remains of the third descender", objects of misfortune and referred to their smell as similar to a god's "curse". could the heart of naberius be connected to or be an actual part of the third descender?

#i'm more curious about how it ties with the magnum opus. gnosis and descenders being alike and aether being the name of an element #alchemy and its stages analagous to jungian psychology and the holy blade used for a ritual of piercing of the ego #the sword being able to undo merged wills (!!! big concept in teyvat)#kaeya's grandfather's sword #the overlap between the location the sword was found and the place referred by ann in the narzissenkreuz quest #the similarities of kaeya's grandfather's journey and the traveler's #also besides the 4 original alchemy stages there's others #one of them being called peacock's tail...#why would you do this to me when kaeya exists 😂#it's almost 3 am why am i thinking of this and writing twitter threads #get a hyperfixation in genshin lore it will be fun they said #< nobody said but my brain still did it and now i fill notebooks with stupid notes about pixels on my phone 😭#and still have shitty memory #i truly admire genshin lore theorists it could never be me with the brain of a fish

5 notes · View notes

tsubasagirl · 1 year ago

Text

My tenth photo featuring two look-alike blonds

(Siebold looks like a grown-up Gladion ‘3’)

#gladion #elite four siebold #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon ultra sun and moon #pokemon xy #my screen recording #this one is kind of my most boring one yet but an interesting idea nonetheless #the main reason I find Siebold memorable is cuz he looks like what Gladion could look like as an adult #I also saw some posts about the upcoming legends game that Gladion could get thrown into an Ingo situation #which be getting me scared but also I wanna see him again #in mainline games I mean #I also remember it was mentioned somewhere that the Aether family comes from a far away country #meaning that they’re not local/native to alola #I wish that lore could be revealed #perhaps they’re from Kalos or another region that’s yet to be released/well-known #makes me think of Gladion as a mysterious prince from a faraway land heehee <3 #but back to this picture #I don’t mean to make it look like they have beef #it’s more like ‘why do you look like me…?’#there’s also one fan art out there where they’re in this situation #oh yea another tangent #it would be REALLY cool if the upcoming legends game introduces an ancestor related to Gladion :3

5 notes · View notes

corkinavoid · 6 months ago

Text

Thank you, @aceinacorner, for this gem:

You are the inspiration for

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 3]

[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]

Duke narrows his eyes.

He swears Tim was not in the Cave just five seconds ago, and yet, in the brief moment when Duke wasn't looking, he just materialized out of motherfucking aether. Smelling like Chinese food and holding a chicken skewer that looks so good that Duke's mouth waters.

"Can I have a piece?" He asks, the divine smell of food overriding the urge to ask 'where did you get it' or 'how did you get here'.

Tim nods, smiles, and hands Duke the whole skewer before going for the elevator.

Is it Duke's hallucination, or is he really humming something as he goes?.. Actually, that doesn't matter. The chicken tastes even better than it smells, and Duke is perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut in exchange for food.

You don't talk with your mouth full, after all.

~☆~

Cass watches Tim over the table. She hasn't heard him coming into the dinner room - no steps in the hall, no rustle of clothing or breathing. It's like the boy has somehow appeared right in front of the door out of nowhere before entering.

What's more, he seems obviously not hungry, picking at his food with an absent, if a bit dreamy, expression. Granted, Tim always picks at his food, but Cass can see the difference between 'Tim's mind is busy with a new case and therefore too distracted to eat' and 'Tim already had dinner elsewhere and is too full to eat now'.

The bags under his eyes are also not as dark as they usually are. Come to think of it, Cass hasn't seen him in a bad mood for a few weeks now, which shouldn't really be that strange, but it's Tim. The smallest of inconveniences can put him in a bad mood.

Tim notices her looking and raises an eyebrow.

Cass blinks and goes back to her plate. Whatever is keeping her brother happy, it deserves her full approval.

~☆~

Jason is... not so sure as to what is happening.

He did notice that Tim was really chill lately, but this is going a bit overboard.

"Did you spike it with arsenic, Replacement?" He asks, suspiciously looking the offered cup of coffee over without taking it. Tim - surprisingly, actually - doesn't react to the nickname in the slightest, instead giving Jason a deadpan look. Then, he brings the cup up to his mouth, takes a sip, and hands it back again.

Okay, well, that proves no arsenic, at least. It's still very weird. Tim doesn't just buy coffee for people, and he especially doesn't buy coffee for Jason.

"Am I going to owe you something for it, or what?" He asks, slowly reaching for the cup. Tim sighs.

"No. It's just a drink - my boyfriend loves it, and I think you'd like it as well," he explains with a shrug, and Jason is honestly too befuddled to ask about anything. Including the boyfriend part.

No, but since when does Timbers have a boyfriend? He sure hadn't mentioned anything about it to any of the others.

The drink turns out to be not coffee but something else, tangy and thick, and when Jason takes the lid off, it's green like Mountain Dew.

It does taste great, though, and later Jason considers asking Tim for another one. He hadn't had anything better in ages.

~☆~

Damian strikes through the last one of the training holograms, breathing heavily. And yet, just as the 'simulation complete' message pops up in the air, he hears a step behind him.

He turns around faster than a lightning, and-

Finds Timothy's neck at the tip of his katana, with his hands up in surrender.

"What are you doing here?" Damian sneers, lowering his weapon, and Tim swallows. Not because of surprise or fear, though, he clearly had some half chewed up food in his mouth.

"Inaccurate drop off," he says, looking Damian straight in the eyes, "I was aiming for the main floor."

He smells of Indian food and spices, and Damian almost sneezes.

"What do you mean 'aiming'?" He demands, but Drake just waves him off, heading towards the elevator up.

"No worries, I'll do better next time," he shoots a smile over his shoulder, "See you on patrol!" And with that, the elevator doors close after him, leaving Damian alone.

Drake has always been strange, but this is too much even for him.

Not that it's Damian's business. He huffs and starts the simulation over again.

~☆~

If Dick didn't witness it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. Alas, he did, and even though the swirling green vortex has already disappeared like it was never there, Tim, whom the strange portal just spat out on the floor of the Cave, is still here.

"What the fuck was that?" He nearly yells, and Tim looks up, a face of perfect innocence.

"What was what?" He returns the question, and Dick can't find the words to explain, so he just wildly gestures to the place where the portal has been less than five seconds ago. Tim blinks, "Oh, that. That was my date."

Dick chokes on his breath.

"Your date?" He parrots, hoarse and breathless, and Tim nods, like there's not a single thing wrong with anything that has just happened. "Since when do you go on dates? Wait, I thought you were engaged, you said it was cheating to date anyone else, even if you didn't know the spouse, you said-" he cuts himself off, feeling his own face slowly falling and his stomach sinking down in horror. "No. No, don't tell me."

But the shit-eating grin on Tim's face is already proof enough.

Dick clears his throat. Takes a deep breath.

Seeing that Tim is still in one piece, and, well, that he did just casually come out of a magic portal in the middle of the Cave, it's probably safe to say that it's not the first time.

And, judging by the mirth in Tim's grin, it's also safe to say he's been rather enjoying it.

Dick releases one long, loud breath and forces a smile on his face as well.

"So, how is it?" He asks, trying in vain to sound light-hearted, not suspicious. Tim's smile gets wider, and there's a glint of excitement in his eyes now, which Dick considers a good thing, all in all.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

~☆~

Bonus Scene (that somehow turned out longer than I planned)

~☆~

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asks when all the rest of his kids are already seated around the table for breakfast.

"At Danny's, probably," Steph shrugs before digging into the waffles on her plate. Bruce frowns.

"Danny's?" He asks. He hasn't heard that name before. Is that a friend of Tim's?

"Drake's paramour," Damian clarifies, not bothering to look up from his own food, and Bruce's mind comes to a screeching halt. He blinks stupidly, looking around the table and sincerely hoping it is some sort of a prank, but Cass smiles and nods, and Dick has an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, and Duke is huffing a snort of laughter at him for it.

"Since when-" Bruce starts, but he is suddenly cut off by a glowing circle that appears just a few feet away from them all.

It grows quickly, morphing into a vortex, a green and ominous tear in reality big enough for a person to walk through, hanging in the air a few inches over the ground. The space around it feels staticky somehow, and the color is too bright to look at directly, and it definitely doesn't belong to their dining room. But before Bruce is able to say another word or do anything at all, Tim steps out of it, his hair and clothes ruffled.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters upon seeing them all, and turns around, sticking his head into the vortex just as it starts to close. The vortex pauses.

Bruce is almost too stunned to move.

His kids don't share the sentiment, though, most of them not paying the portal any attention at all. Bruce would have reprimanded them for the poor awareness of their surroundings if he didn't notice how Damian simply glanced up at it before going back to his food.

They saw the portal. They just didn't deem it dangerous. For some reason.

Tim's face comes back out, and he turns to Bruce. His expression looks different than before: a bit smug, a little mischievous, and just a tad bit nervous.

Then, another head pops up through the surface of the portal. A boy - or at least they look like a boy - with snow white hair that floats in the air and bright, almost neon blue eyes. His skin is far too pale for him to be human, and- he has freckles that look like constellations.

For some reason, that's the part that makes Bruce finally resign to the fact that this is just how his life is. With breakfasts interrupted by green portals and otherworldly boyfriends - because who else might it be, really - before he even had his morning coffee.

"Hi!" Said otherworldly boyfriend grins and waves his hand. "I'm Danny, Tim's fiance," he introduces himself, and Bruce conjures the last scraps of his scattered mind to smile and nod back.

"Good morning, Danny. I'm Bruce." He has no idea what else to say; it seems like a bit late for shovel talk, but a bit early for welcoming speech.

"Would Young Master Danny care to join us for breakfast?" Alfred's calm, but still slightly amused voice comes from the door. Bruce turns to look at the butler with a sense of exasperation - is he really the last one to learn anything in this house? - but the man seems... well, not surprised, at least not on the surface. But his grip on the pitcher of orange juice is just a little too tense for him to have been in the know all along.

Danny turns to him and smiles nicely - his teeth are also way too sharp for a human - before shaking his head, "No, sorry, I was just dropping Tim off."

"For God's sake," Tim rolls his eyes, "Just put on some pants and come out, I refuse to suffer through this alone."

Dick chokes on his toast. Steph gasps, her eyes snapping between Tim and Danny in delight. Cass snorts and kicks her under the table. Damian groans.

"Spare me from the details of your personal life, Drake. Need I remind you that I am thirteen," he narrows his eyes.

The constellations on Danny's cheeks shine just a bit brighter, and Bruce has no idea what that is supposed to mean, but his guess is along the lines of embarrassment. Especially when the boy completes it with rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me that, at thirteen years old, you don't know what sex is?" Tim deadpans, running a hand through his hair in a useless effort to smooth it and taking his seat at the table. Dick's coughing fit comes back with renewed force.

"We didn't-" Danny starts, still kind of hovering midway through the portal, but Damian pays him little attention.

"I do. Yet, I prefer my mind free of the knowledge when it applies to you."

"I want all the details, though," Steph pipes up, looking at Danny from her seat, "Can you, like, sprout tentacles or something, because I know for a fact Tim likes that kind of-"

"Steph!" Tim yells at her, face red, and then turns to Danny, who suddenly has a very interested, if a bit mischievous, look on his face, "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, okay," Danny snorts and disappears back in the portal. Bruce half-expects it to close after him, but the vortex stays.

Which probably means the boy - the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, Eyes of the Universe - is going to be right back.

After he puts on some pants, supposedly.

Bruce watches Tim rub his face in frustration while Steph giggles and elbows him in the side, and sighs. This is so not how he expected this morning to be.

3K notes · View notes

plutotheplum · 11 months ago

Text

Resonance

sylus x fem!reader - read part 2!

summary: with the aether core's auction quickly approaching, you're growing desperate to resonate with sylus. fortunately for you, he has a suggestion... even if it is less conventional.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, fingering, teasing, spit kink, light choking, oral sex, praise kink, slightly ooc sylus?, minor canon divergence

wc: 4.5k

a/n: my first time writing a full fic or smut for that matter! given how many times sylus was trying to hold the mc's hand, i just figured he'd be into it. tried to be strong for zayne, but that didn't work out... sorry zayne. hope you guys like it! <3

also posted on ao3!

You’re starting to regret your plan to sneak into the N109 Zone. From being drugged to nearly being killed, you weren’t exactly faring well in the unfamiliar place.

A deep sigh escapes you, fingers rubbing at your aching temples. The headache had gotten worse, the band around your head wrapping tighter and tighter. You couldn’t leave though, no matter how desperately you wanted to, not when the Aether Core’s other half was up for auction in a week’s time. Sylus had also been distant. Despite saving you from the night raid, he had hardly come to visit while you were staying at Onychinus’ base. The twins, Luke and Keiran had kept you company though. They weren’t as wicked as you thought them to be, only young men that were intent on working for Onychinus, driven by their own motivations.

The week was bound to shorten however, and you were growing antsy. Any reservations you had about resonating with Sylus were fading quickly as the auction date grew closer. He was right in a sense, you two needed to resonate, especially after that night raid when the Wanderers had attacked. The auction wouldn’t go smoothly either, you knew that much. Sylus had money, but traitors were lurking everywhere. The shopkeeper’s voice rings in your head, reminding you that Sylus hadn’t been responsible for the explosions. Absolving him of being responsible had been hard enough.

Plucking at the strap of your nightgown, you’re contemplating whether you should sneak out. Sylus had been accommodating enough so far, and you were tempted to push your boundaries. He had, after all, left a pile of clothes for you. Strangely enough, they were all in the right size, accompanied by Mephisto who had let out a loud caw before flying out, its claws making a playful swipe for your hair.

A few more anxious plucks at the strap of the nightgown and you’re sneaking out. Feed pad against the floor softly, nightgown swaying as you move through the hallway. You pause when you hear voices, hearing the thud of your own heart as you hold your breath. It’s Sylus and another man. The conversation is too muffled to listen into, incoherent words blending in together.

The door creaks open and you’re tucking yourself behind a pillar, hiding in the dark. The sound of footsteps fades into the distance and the breath you’re holding escapes into a quiet exhale.

“You can come out now,” A voice drawls. Sylus. You hated how he could sense your presence. Stepping out from behind the pillar, your back straightens, walking into his room. It’s dark, just like him. Expensive furniture, books stacked onto a bookshelf and a bed on the other side of the large room. The curtains are open, moonlight flowing in through the windows, mixing with the ambient lighting. He sits behind his desk, eyes trained on you, nursing a cup of wine. “I see you’re wearing my gift,” he says, eyes dragging over the nightgown. You scoff, eyes narrowing at him, “It was hardly a gift, and it’s not like I could sleep in my Hunter uniform.”

He only takes another sip of wine, eyebrows raising. His nonchalance is making you feel irritated. “You’re avoiding me,” you announce, arms crossing over your chest, “is there any reason?”

He laughs, low and deep, “I thought you’d be grateful for the reprieve, or maybe you don’t hate me as much as you think you do.” That has you scowling. You want to wipe his stupid smug smile right off his face. “Relax,” he says, his fingers tapping against his desk as he leans back in his chair “I had more important things to attend to.” That catches your attention. More important things? Perhaps he’d have answers, and you needed answers, about the N109 Zone, about Onychinus, about anything .

“Private matters,” he murmurs, red eyes keeping you in place “nothing for you to get involved with.”

Your scowl only grows deeper, almost forgetting what you came in here for. Your feet move across the carpet, hands landing on the edge of his desk in an attempt to look intimidating.

“I want to try resonating with you,” you say, deciding to change tactics.

He hums, red eyes boring into yours. “We already tried that, and unfortunately, you seem content on disliking me,” he replies.

A frustrated noise escapes you, “It’s your fault!” you accuse, glaring at him.

He only stares back at you blankly. You feel like a child throwing a tantrum under his gaze. “Just- please? ” you ask, voice softening slightly. He’s letting out an inconvenienced sigh and your body is moving, red tendrils swooping around your body as he draws you closer to him. “Hand,” he demands. You reach forward, and his hand clasps yours, fingers lacing together. A deep breath gets sucked in through your mouth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to channel your energy and resonate with him. You think about his stupidly handsome face, his low voice and the times he had saved you. Both of your knuckles are white with how tightly you’re squeezing his hand. There’s nothing though, absolutely nothing. No sparks, no glowing light, no Evol resonance. Letting out a defeated sigh, you let go of his hand. He stares back at you, eyes searching. “There is something wrong with you,” he says, drawing his hand back to take another sip of wine.

“Maybe if you tried being more likeable, this would be easier,” you retort, sending him another glare.

Sylus only laughs, his head tilting, “You weren’t so intent on resonating with me earlier. So much so that you shot me.”

“You shot yourself,” you correct, voice sharp, “and the change in mind is because of the auction.”

He peers over at you, eyes calculating. You can’t tell what’s going through his head, you can never tell. It puts you on edge. Sylus is a dangerous man and you aren’t able to predict a single one of his moves.

“You’re afraid of Wanderers,” he surmises, hands clasping in his lap.

His chair rolls out a bit from his desk and your eyes are dipping to see his legs spread as he gets comfortable. There’s a stretch in the black trousers as his thighs strain against the material and you’re swallowing harshly, eyes snapping back up to meet his gaze. If he noticed your wandering eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not scared!” you protest, feeling exasperated “I’m simply worried that something might happen. We both know that the Aether core might become unstable with energy fluctuations, and who knows what sort of Wanderers that flux might attract?”

“I am more than capable of handling any danger,” Sylus says, his tone dark, “or do you need a refresher of what happened after I saved you during the night raid?”

You wince at the memory. It appears he doesn’t like being underestimated. It’s even worse that you remember. There had been blood and screams when his Evol had eviscerated the men that had been there.

“No refreshers needed,” you reply quickly.

Your plan of resonating with him is ill-thought, you realise. You can’t get your mind to change, no matter how hard you try. Head hanging low, you decide to back off. Sylus is right at least. He would be capable enough of defeating any danger there, but his assurance isn’t enough to quell your doubts. Silence passes over you both, only interrupted by your feet shifting on the spot.

“There is another way,” Sylus says slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “it is less conventional of course, hardly attempted at.”

Hardly attempted at? Was he planning to put your life on the line? Maybe that would work out for him, weaken you enough to get you to resonate with him and then steal the Aether core lodged in your heart.

“And this way is…?” you prompt, raising your brows.

His grin only grows wider. Sylus stands up, long legs stalking towards you until he’s standing in front of you, his red eyes staring down at you. His cold hand reaches out, fingers grabbing at your chin to tilt your head as his own head dips towards your ear. You shiver, feeling his warmth breath against your skin. “Sex,” he whispers.

Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, gaze averted to the side.

He clicks his tongue, “Why so embarrassed? I thought you wanted to resonate, sweetie .”

“You’re more insane than I thought,” you hiss, shoving at his chest.

He lets out a throaty laugh, a smirk spreading across his lips as he stumbles back a bit at the force of your push.

“You seemed desperate,” Sylus says when he stops laughing, “I was only letting you know of all the options.”

“That shouldn’t even be an option!” you snap, growing flustered by the second. Sex with Sylus ? He was a murderer and completely and utterly unhinged, not to mention the leader of an illegally run gang. You were not having sex with him. Your irritation festers, head falling into your hands as you stand there. He doesn’t say anything, only reaching for his wine and finishing off his cup.

“Fuck me,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing at your aching temples again.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies. Your head snaps upwards at that, glaring at him. Irritation has only led to you making a poor choice of words.

“I’m leaving,” you say forcefully, holding your head high.

You should be leaving by now, storming off back to your room lying a few doors away. You should be, except your poor feet aren’t working.

He stares at you expectantly, a hint of smile on his face as his brows raise.

“I am leaving,” you repeat, voice hardening.

He only nods his head towards the door. Part of you wants to stay, to find out what he means, but the implications are clear and you won’t do that with him. Especially not him.

You don’t get very far though, the door lock fastening in place with a resounding click . His Evol curls around your body, the inky red and black lines tugging you back towards him. Sylus is reaching for you, his hand cupping your cheek. You have half the mind to lean into his touch. “I think we’ll both have more fun if you stay,” he whispers against your ear, arms drifting across your nightgown to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

He peers down at you, and your breath catches in your throat. Without thinking, you’re leaning into him, body pressing against him.

“I think you want to stay,” he continues, hands sliding up to pet at your hips.

“You- you don’t know what I want,” you manage out, voice airy, “and I want to leave.”

He hums, hand finding your cheek again. His thumb rubs across your skin, and it sets you alight.

“Did you forget?” he murmurs, head dipping to meet your height, “I can see what people desire the most, and it appears you, my dear Hunter, desire me.”

You’re letting out a soft curse. You had forgotten about that stupid detail, about his ability to see what people desired. Squirming in his grasp, you try to get away, but he holds you still, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“Will you not indulge yourself?” he whispers, voice lilting. You think he could be a siren in disguise.

There’s a shuddering breath escaping you. You don’t get a chance to answer, not when he’s smiling against your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to it. Your hands find his shirt, forming fists to prevent your knees from buckling.

“We are the same,” he reminds you, lips brushing across your skin as he backs you up against the wall.

You manage a scoff, “We are not the same. You’ve done terrible things and killed people. You do whatever you want, sacrificing whoever you want if it betters your cause.”

“Such insolent words,” he purrs, his hand curling around your neck “I have treated you with far more kindness than others that have crossed my path.”

A squeak leaves when he squeezes around your neck, your fingers trying to pry his ones away from your neck. He only tightens his grip, landing another kiss to your cheek and there’s heat between your thighs, a whine escaping you before you can swallow it down.

Sylus laughs, his hand falling away from your neck to grab at your hips instead.

“Caught you,” he coos, and with that his head is dipping, lips pressing against yours.

You whine again, arms wrapping around his neck. You’re too far gone to care, feeling the plushness of his lips against yours. It feels as though he’s trying to devour you, trying to swallow you whole.

The kisses are rough and harsh and his hands are slipping under your nightgown, sliding up the backs of your thighs to grasp at your ass. You gasp into his mouth, scrabbling at his shoulders. He grunts against your mouth, guiding your leg to hook over his hip.

“You are far more eager than you said you would be,” he murmurs, finally pulling away to let you breathe.

Soft pants escape you, chest heaving as your hands drop from his shoulders, landing against his chest instead. He stares down at you, crimson eyes bright with arousal as they flit about your body.

“You’ve done something to me,” you mutter lamely, a weak excuse for responding so eagerly.

He raises his brows, his thumb brushing across your lips. He repeats the motion, over and over again until you're tempted to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. You don’t get a chance, not when his thumb is pushing past your lips and meeting the resistance of your teeth. Blinking up at him, you tilt your head.

“You know I haven’t done anything to you,” he replies, “that would be too far, even for me. Now be good and open .”

He has to have done something to you. What other explanation is there for the way your mouth opens, sucking his thumb inside eagerly? Your head tips back as you suck on his thumb, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans, deep and unabashed and it has your hips bucking. “Patience,” he whispers, pushing his thumb further into your mouth. You gag slightly, sending him watery glare.

Sylus only smiles back, keeping you in place as you suck on his thumb. The ache between your thighs is too hard to ignore, and your hand is sneaking down in an attempt to relieve the ache.

You’re horribly wet between your thighs, feeling your thighs practically slip against each other as you squirm. Your fingers only manage two full circles against your clit before Sylus is letting out a growl, tugging your hand free from where it had snuck into your panties.

“I- I need-“ you whine, trying to sneak your hand between your thighs again.

“You need me ,” he hisses, eyes hard as he grabs at your wandering hand, gaze locking onto your slick fingers. There’s a sharp gasp that leaves you when his own mouth is enveloping around your fingers, his eyes on yours as he sucks them clean. You feel weak at the sight, a dreamy sigh escaping you. He smirks, forgetting your fingers to kiss you again. You taste yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he licks into your mouth, his hands squeezing at your hips.

He’s picking you up before too long, dumping you on his bed. You hide shyly when he rips your nightgown from your body, his eyes staring down at your bra and panties greedily. The bra goes next and he’s lowering his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against the pebbled bud. You don’t know what to do, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him there, trying desperately to seek relief. “So impatient,” Sylus mutters against your spit-slick skin, opting to suck on your other breast as his hand delves between your thighs. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, eyes slipping shut “please, don’t stop.”

He lets out a low laugh, fingers rubbing at you through your panties. “How obedient you’ve become. Squirming under my fingers like a little slut. Didn’t you say you hated me before?” he whispers.

“I- I do hate you!” you grit out, but your hand is finding his wrist, keeping his hand there as you grind your clothed pussy against his fingers.

He scoffs disappointedly, body slinking down the bed until his nose is pressing against your panties and he’s breathing in. You feel as though you might faint at the depraved sight. His tongue laves across the fabric of your panties and you moan his name, fingers finding their home in his hair.

Sylus sucks at your clit through your panties, licking at the slick that seeps through the dampened fabric.

“An intoxicating taste,” he comments, pressing a kiss to your thigh “I could do this for days.”

That little comment has you letting out a shuddering breath and words you might regret if your mind wasn’t so stupidly hazy. “I would let you,” you mumble, tugging his face closer to where you want him, feeling the press of his nose against your clit. He grins, red eyes staring up at you, “that can be arranged.” Sylus’s long fingers are pulling down your panties and he’s staring at your cunt, a deep groan escaping him. “Such a pretty pussy,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

A strangled noise leaves you and his mouth is latching onto your pussy, sucking and licking like a man starved. Whines and whimpers escape you as you grind your hips against his tongue. He moans back into your cunt, the sound shooting up through your body, thighs twitching. Sylus keeps you pinned down, tongue laving against your wetness, drinking up your slick as it leaks. It’s almost too much, which is why your hand reaches for his. Sylus gives his own hand, fingers lacing with yours. You’re so lost in the haze of his tongue against you that you can barely hear his voice.

“Resonate,” he speaks into your pussy, his hand gripping yours tight. “What?” Your dazed eyes find his, bewildered. “I said, resonate ,” he repeats, sucking your clit into his mouth harshly.

His teeth graze against the sensitive bud and your back is arching, hand squeezing his one back. Your Evol comes much easier this time, light emanating from both your hands as you resonate. The linkage takes place, and it has you reeling, body twitching as you come on his tongue. The light soon fades, his own Evol dimming down. He presses another soft kiss to your sensitive clit. “Some incentive and your body is reacting remarkably well,” he smiles down at you. You could hardly care about resonance at this point, pushing at his shoulders and crawling up onto his lap, lips pressing against his. He grunts at the sudden change in position, but kisses you back, his hands groping at your ass appreciatively. A whine gets swallowed up by his mouth, your hips rocking against his hardness wantonly. Your fingers pull at his shirt and he’s staring at you with spit-slick lips. He tugs his shirt free and you suck in a sharp breath, taking him in. While you do this, your hips pause in their movements and he’s letting out a click of his tongue, using his hands to guide you start moving again. “You resonated with me,” he whispers against your lips. “Hardly,” you murmur back, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t be like that,” he chastises, “I made you come on my tongue and this is how you treat me?” he pouts mockingly.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He coos, guiding your hips to move in the way he wants to, “moaning and whimpering for me. Perhaps I should’ve suggested this path from the start.” You try to glare at him, but he’s only gripping your cheeks, prying your mouth open before his tongue is lolling out, dropping a glob of spit into your mouth. “Swallow, baby.” You do so almost immediately, mouth opening eagerly for more. He laughs, almost in disbelief, kissing you messily this time, letting you suck on his tongue. “I need you,” you whisper, pressing his hand against your tummy “need you in me, Sylus.”

His eyes flash and he’s kissing you harder, clothed bulge grinding up into your bare pussy. The drag of his trousers is stimulating, catching on your clit in a way that has you shaking on his lap. “You’re filthy,” he hisses, sucking harsh kisses against your neck “such a filthy slut, begging for my cock.” You whine in agreement, nodding mindlessly. The world is moving then, your eyes finding the roof as he settles between your thighs. He kisses you over and over again, before he’s drawing back, slipping off the bed to pull his trousers down. A loud moan escapes you at the sight, his fat cock bobbing between his thighs. The tip is dark with arousal, veins prominent against the skin. Part of you wants it in your mouth, to swallow his cum and feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, and the other part wants it inside of you, filling you up. Embarrassment forgotten, you’re spreading your thighs in what you hope is an enticing manner, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes over at him. He glances down at your glistening pussy, licking his lips. “In me, please” you sweetly request. He hums, crawling over you. He grasps his cock, tapping the tip of it against your clit a few times. Pre-cum beads at the tip, a fat glob dripping down. Your hand shoots out before it’s wasted, fingers catching the glob. Smiling up at him, you suck your fingers into your mouth, letting out an appreciative moan at the taste. His eyes darken at the sight, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thigh as he squeezes.

“You’ll regret this when you have to leave me,” he warns, “I won’t be there to stuff your pussy full or lick that pretty cunt when you’re feeling needy.” “Then make it count,” you retort, legs wrapping around his hips. He lets out a short laugh, kissing you again. Soft whines leave you when he pushes in, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You think you might be able to feel him in your throat, his cock stretching you out so deliciously that it has you writhing.

“So fucking tight,” he breathes out, kissing along your jaw “so warm. I can feel you clenching around me, baby.”

“Fuck,” you mewl, nails scratching down his back as he thrusts into you. In any other situation, you might be mortified at the sounds.

The squelch of your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you. It seems like his favourite thing to do is to hold your hands, though.

“So pretty for me,” he sighs, hips grinding deeper into your wet heat “such a good girl, hm? My good girl.”

The praise has your heart fluttering wildly, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmurs, his lips latching onto your tits again, “my pretty, little slut, all laid out for me. You could’ve had this cock earlier, I would’ve given it to you. I could’ve stuffed you full, or bent you over my bike and pounded this tight little cunt until you were screaming.”

A hoarse moan leaves you. Your hands are squeezing his, legs tightening around him.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, “take my cock baby, it’s all yours.”

“Stop- stop talking like that,” you whine, writhing under his body.

“Why?” he responds, “does it feel better than you had imagined?”

“I wasn’t imagining-“

“Hush now,” he whispers, kissing you over and over again. You’re not sure how much more of this you could take.

His cock is pounding into you, punching out the air in your lungs. It feels too good, the throb of his cock and his whispered words against your ear. You hiccup, peering up into his crimson eyes. He stares right back at you, the look behind his eyes startlingly soft.

You shy away, head turning to the side, cheek squishing against the pillow. His hand turns your face back to him, nose nudging against yours gently. He kisses you softer this time, the sound of your kisses drowned out by the drag of his cock in your cunt.

“Come for me, baby” Sylus whispers, squeezing your hand “cream my cock.”

It’s enough to have you shuddering around him, a whine of his name leaving your mouth as you cream on his cock, just like had told you to. He drinks up every noise, lips working against yours as he fucks into until he’s burying his cock deep inside, letting out a low growl against your ear as hot cum spurts from his tip, filling you up.

You sigh at the feeling, body feeling limp. Sylus is slumped on top of you, his weight oddly comforting against yours. A kiss is pressed against his cheek and you can feel his smile from where he’s tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

It’s a little uncomfortable though, so you’re pushing at his chest to get him to roll off of you. Sylus does so with little noise and you’re curling up against his side, already missing the stretch of his cock.

“You were being nice,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

“Would you prefer it if I were rougher?” he asks in return, rubbing his hand against the curve of your hip soothingly.

You roll your eyes, pinching his bicep.

“The auction will go smoothly,” he announces, his hand drifting to squeeze your ass, “we did resonate, after all.”

You had almost forgotten about that. A nod is your response and he’s dragging you closer to give you another kiss.

“Training begins tomorrow morning,” Sylus continues, “I need to see how strong we can be together.”

You’re letting out a groan, swatting his chest and shoving him away.

“Leave me alone,” you mumble, burying your face into the pillows.

He smiles, arms curling around your waist to tug you back into his warm chest.

“Now, now. You were being so good earlier,” he whispers “I’d be happy to reward you, if you perform well tomorrow.”

His hand smooths across your stomach, hand drifting lower to delve between your thighs. You muffle the noise that threatens to spill out.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, eyes slipping shut.

“I think you like that about me,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers curling up inside of you, beginning to move at a leisurely pace.

“You’re the worst, Sylus” you whisper, hips rocking as you try to get his fingers to sink deeper.

“Yet here you are, trying to fuck yourself on my fingers,” he purrs, his arm winding around your neck. You feel him squeeze and you’re whimpering, sinking your teeth into his bicep as he holds you in place, letting his fingers fuck in and out of you.

It’s going to be a long night.

#sylus smut #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnd sylus #lnds smut #sylus qin #love and deepspace mc

4K notes · View notes

coffeeghoulie · 3 months ago

Text

broke the mold (change will come)

chapter 3: love the mayhem more than the love

so. what a week it's been since the last chapter, huh. to "make up" for being MIA for a month, have a chapter that doubles the entire fic length lmao. I'm sorry (no I'm not.)

Content warnings for this chapter include religious doubt, vague description of being in a medical setting, disassociation, mild self harm (chewing and digging nails into skin), what happens when seven ghouls are crammed into tight spaces without ever addressing any of their own issues. More familiar faces. The idea of perfect victims. Learning new things, new names. Trauma responses. The first time I've ever written Copia as a main character. Self-destructive behavior and pushing others into doing it for you. 16.2k.

I make no promises about the next chapter except that it's probably not going to be until mid April. I have a project with a real physical deadline fast approaching, and I need to get that done first. I'll work on this when I can <3

Much thanks again to @mintea-in-space for all of the Cardinal Consulting <3

divider by @wrathofrats <3

There's a beeping noise. Shrill. Grating. Foreign. Aurum groans. His head hurts. Mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and there's some bitter taste when he licks over his teeth. They don't fit quite right in his mouth, teeth nor tongue.

He grumbles again, trying to raise a hand to swat in the noise's general direction, wants to get Fog to stop mimicking-

Fog.

Everything comes back in waves, and he realizes that even though he's thought he’s been cold before, that was nothing. He’s cold for the very first time in his life. The next thing he realizes is that he has absolutely no fucking idea where he is. This is not the room he entered when he exited the portal, that much is clear even before he finds the strength to open his eyes.

It's a tremendous effort to peel his eyes open. The lights are bright white, and he hisses as his pupils try sluggishly to adjust. He’s alone, strange machines at his bedside connected to him through wires and tubes. His arms are wrapped in cloth so white it makes his head throb.

Everything smells strange, sharp and sterile, and Aurum still has no clue where he is. There’s a window, but the curtains are drawn thick and heavy. The door, with a grucifix hung above the frame, is solid and shut.

Aurum takes a deep breath. His entire body feels like he’s fallen off of a tall ledge. It hurts.

He tries to sit up, groaning loudly at the ache that ripples through him. The thin bed under him shifts, railings at the side creaking, and there’s a twinge of resistance where the machines connect to his arms.

Aurum growls softly at them, coughing as his throat stings. He reaches to pull the tubes and wires free, something small and angry in the back of his mind telling him to get the fuck out of here.

But the moment he touches the first needle in the back of his hand, someone clears their throat loudly. Aurum jolts back, ignoring the way his body protests the sudden movement.

The door’s open, now. There’s no other way out of this room. All of a sudden, the sterile scent of the room is overpowered by rich, dark ozone. Aurum’s ears pin back against his head.

A strange ghoul looms in the doorway, and despite the ache pounding at his temples, he bares all of his fangs with a pathetic snarl. This, of course, does nothing to dissuade the stranger. The strong scent of quintessence overpowers the chemical even more as he steps inside with a halfhearted huff of laughter.

He’s clearly tried to put himself together; a white coat over a rumpled sweater and sloppily tied tie, deep, heavy bags under violet eyes, half hidden behind round tortoiseshell glasses. The scruff of his goatee and his temples are grey, the rest of his dark hair messy and unkempt where it falls over his forehead, around two short ebony horns. There’s a clipboard tucked under his arm, and he turns over his shoulder to call to someone down the hall.

“Aether, please,” he says, and saints be damned, does he sound as tired as Aurum feels. “I need you to-”

“I already told you I had to excuse myself from that ghoul’s case,” another voice rumbles, the growl clear enough that Aurum feels his ears pin back instinctively. “I cannot be impartial with him. You know what happened. It’s for his own good.”

The ghoul in front of him takes a deep, shaky breath, his eyes squeezed shut as footsteps retreat. When his eyes open again, he’s got a wide smile plastered on his face. “Well, Olde One be willing, you made it,” he says, pulling up a rolling chair besides the gurney, rifling through the paperwork attached to his clipboard. “Frankly, it was a little touch and go for a while, but barring any major unexpected setbacks-”

To this, the quintessence ghoul glances out the door. He looks back to Aurum like he’d never looked away.

“It’ll be like nothing ever happened. You survived going through a filtered portal of a differing element. You’re the first one to ever make it out alive. Congratulations.”

“It was the right portal-” he tries to protest, but a fit of hacking coughs wrack him. His throat screams in pain with each one. The other ghoul sets a hand on his shoulder, concern easy to read in his expressions.

“Easy there, bud,” he rumbles, low and easy until he stops coughing. “Forgive me, I probably should have introduced myself. My name is Omega, one of the quintessence ghouls of the Head Ministry. What is yours, if you wouldn’t mind?”

The Head Ministry.

A pit forms in his stomach, and he doubts that he’s nauseous because of the pain. Aurum scans over Omega’s face, pulling back as far as he can away. Every instinct in his body is screaming that he’s a threat. He opens his mouth to tell him his name, and realizes, as his stomach lurches, that he doesn’t want to say any of the names he’s had before. Aurum coming from someone else’s tongue makes him feel nauseous. Fire just feels like mockery. So instead:

“Don’t have one.”

Omega cocks his head curiously, brows furrowing. “You… Don’t have a name?” he says cautiously.

He shakes his head. Omega writes something down on his paperwork. The scratch of the pen nib against paper makes Aurum’s head hurt even more. His glasses slide a little down the bridge of his nose. His gaze is piercing. It feels almost a little patronizing.

“I have to have something to call you,” he says, glancing up over those tortoiseshell rims. “The humans have taken to referring to you as the multi, but that’s not a name befitting a ghoul like yourself. If you don’t have a name, I’d be happy to give you one.”

Aurum clenches his fists, looking away from Omega to stare at his hands as his knuckles ache with the strain. The summoning shouldn’t have hurt. He’s fire, for fuck’s sake. The portal was for a fire ghoul. Even as he thinks it now, he doesn’t feel the conviction behind it he’s had for centuries. “Multi’s fine. I guess.”

Omega gives him another look, but he’s too exhausted to try and read into it. “Multi it is, then,” he writes something down in his paperwork. There’s a lull, and the quintessence ghoul looks up. It feels like he’s being examined like a particularly interesting specimen.

“I apologize, but I do have to ask. Was there anything in particular that made you want to go through that portal, even knowing the risks of summoning? Desperation, curiosity, something else?”

Aurum shrinks back. “It- I was going through the right portal. It was my element. It wasn’t supposed to-”

Omega cuts him off with a hand on his bicep. Aurum flinches so hard it hurts. Even worse than the sting is the look of pity on the older ghoul’s face. “Multi. If it were the right portal, you wouldn’t be in the infirmary right now. You’ve been unconscious for quite a while so your body could recover. It is, and I do not say this lightly, an unholy miracle from the Prince Himself that you were able to survive the summoning ritual.”

He blinks, feels himself start to pull back from his body. He digs his claws into the meat of his palm to at least attempt to stay present. “Fuck,” Aurum mumbles, eyes still a little bit hazy. His body aches, the pain throbbing in time with his pulse.

The summoning shouldn’t have hurt. He’s known ghouls whose pride and honor comes from their summonings and returns. Extended family, his parents’ peers. They had all said that being summoned had been as easy as walking through a threshold. He knows this.

A traitorous little voice in the back of his head that sounds like Moraine’s reminds him of the water ghoul who’d sprinted through the air portal and screamed as it had burned them alive. They hadn’t been the right element and it had killed them.

Fog had been ri-

Aurum stops that line of thought right then and there. He never wants to think about her again.

But there isn’t really any denying it anymore. If he were actually a fire ghoul, it wouldn’t have hurt.

“You are the first recorded instance of a ghoul being able to do so. Frankly, it’s fascinating, but we are genuinely glad that you pulled through,” Omega’s voice cuts through the haze. “The Cardinal will be thrilled to hear that you’re awake and talking.”

Aurum’s brow furrows. “The Cardinal?”

“Cardinal Copia,” he says. Aurum watches him withdraw into himself for a split second. The violet of his eyes dulls before the smile returns full force. “I forgot, how silly of me. No one’s been able to explain to you as to why you’ve been summoned because of all of the-”

To this, Omega gestures to the monitors on the other side of the bed. Still beeping. Still too bright. He settles back into his seat, clipboard tucked under his arm.

“The Head Ministry has a rather unique missionary program,” he says, something fond curling his lips up. “Using music for human recruitment. A rock band. The Ghost Project. Before I started infirmary work, I was a member of this program for quite a while, along with-”

He cuts himself off. That dull look is back in his eyes. “Well. That’s irrelevant right now. However. The upper clergy were looking for a new fire ghoul to play lead guitar for the Cardinal, who inherited the Ghost Project a few months ago and now is the new frontman, the new Mouthpiece. Then, you came out of the portal.”

Aurum winces. Omega doesn’t seem to notice. Just keeps talking. “The humans are always so finicky about fire summonings. They could only do it the one time. Something bureaucratic that they don’t bother explaining to us. They’ve mad- found a new fire ghoul. You’ll meet him eventually. Once you’re well enough on your feet.”

He nods. Swallows hard. There’s a bitter taste in his mouth. Omega must easily read the discomfort in his expression, because he leans over to the table at the head of his bed and offers him a glass with a straw.

“Here, drink,” he says, helping Aurum sit up. Aurum drinks greedily, the water a balm against his scratchy throat.

“Thank you,” he pants, blinking slowly when Omega sets the glass back down. His heart still flutters like a cornered animal. He is acutely aware of the machines, still beeping rhythmically. “What, uh, what comes next?”

Omega looks up from his clipboard. Aurum watches the big ghoul’s chest rise and fall with breath. “Well, I’d like to keep you here for a few more days, make sure you don’t give us any more scares,” He laughs wearily, taking another deep breath as he goes somewhere else for a moment. “And then we’ll get you cleared and introduced to your p-”

He stops himself, glances at him. Aurum, once again, feels pinned.

“Then we’ll get you introduced properly to the Cardinal and the ghouls you will be working with as part of the Project. I mean, of course, if you are willing to join. The Cardinal will go over this with you when you speak to him, as you were his first summons. But if you do not want to serve the Mouthpiece, we can easily have you return to the Pits.”

Aurum blinks. Tries not to think of the fury in Fog’s eyes last he’d seen her. “I- I’ll serve,” he croaks, even though he still isn’t quite sure what serving entails. Wonders what he’s signed himself up for.

He can pretend, though. Like pretending isn’t the only thing he’s ever been good at doing.

Omega smiles, and Aurum gets the strange sense that this one is the most genuine one he’s seen yet. “Good. It’s been a pleasure to properly meet you, Multi. I’m sure you must be exhausted, the body uses a lot of energy in recovery. I’ll leave you to rest, but I won’t be far if you need me.”

Aurum opens his mouth to respond, but Omega’s already turned towards the door, counting something on his fingers as he leans out of the doorway and calls to someone out of sight. “Sister Delilah, I-”

The door shuts behind him.

Aurum crosses his arms over his chest, shrinks in on himself. He feels so cold.

Thankfully, the next few days pass without incident. There’s a slow stream of people coming in and out to check on him, mainly Omega and the Sister of Sin the bigger ghoul had spoken to as he’d left on that first day.

She’s the first human he’s ever seen. He does his best not to stare. She smiles and he does his best to return it. Delilah tells him that the Cardinal’s going to love him. Aurum wonders exactly what she means by that. He’s yet to meet him.

His infirmary stay passes in a bit of a blur, and the next thing he knows, Omega’s unwrapping the bandages from his arms, a healthy buzz of quintessence applied to dull what’s left of the ache. He’s dressed in a black, long sleeved button up, slacks and shoes of the same color. He ties some of his locs back, letting the rest hang past his shoulders. He hasn’t been this put together in a very, very long time.

He finds he doesn’t exactly mind it, even if his thoughts start to wander to a place he’d forbidden for himself a long time ago.

Aurum shakes his head to clear the fuzz as Omega hands him a package wrapped in black velvet.

“There are, well. Certain rules involving the behavior and presentation of ghouls here,” Omega starts to explain, eyes glancing around as Aurum watches him try to best summarize. “We are to be in uniform. A united front to serve the Church, if you will. You’ll get fit for a proper uniform once you get settled into your new quarters.”

Aurum nods, smoothing his thumb over the velvet. There’s something hard underneath. He doesn’t dare unwrap it yet. Aurum just watches Omega, does his best to keep eye contact.

“But this,” Omega says, gesturing to the bundle in his lap. “This is the most important thing you will ever wear on the Surface. It is to be worn in all public areas of the Ministry, and outside it. Your summoner may or may not have rules about wearing it in front of him.” To this, Omega gets that strange, distant look in his eye, “But that is to be discussed with him, not me.”

Aurum nods, hesitantly pulling the velvet away. It almost feels like mockery, a featureless face that shines of chrome, empty vacant holes for eyes to stare from. A mask with horns and a slot cut from the chin for his mouth. He trails his eyes over where the mask would curl over the top of his head, over where his horns curl back, much larger than these.

Omega must sense his confusion, because he smiles, steps forward. “Do you know how to glamour?” he says, even as he goes through putting away all the medical equipment Aurum had spent the last however many days hooked up to. “It’s much easier Up Top than Down Below. Just call on your magic, and it will be there.”

Aurum blinks, looks up to Omega to question him, and has to do a double take. It’s still Omega standing in front of where he sits at the side of the hospital bed. The same grey and dark hair, same build, but his horns and tusks and the violet of his eyes have been wiped away like chalk. A startled laugh barks from Aurum’s throat, and it’s a testament to how far he’s recovered that the act doesn’t send him into a coughing fit.

“I’d like you to try,” Omega says, pressing a large hand to the center of his own chest. “It’ll be right here. Reach in and pull it out.”

Aurum takes a deep, deep breath. He hasn’t tried anything like this in decades. The little voice in the back of his head wants him to snap at Omega. His survival instinct tells him that Omega is much bigger and stronger than him. He hasn’t seen the quint angry yet, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to. He shuts his eyes. Does his very best to focus.

It’s like grabbing at flame itself, incorporeal. Aurum reaches into the core of himself, where his fire has taunted him for nearly his entire life. He reaches for the magic that makes him a ghoul and it dances, laughing, away from him.

He growls at himself and Omega takes a step back. Shame and frustration burn through him, but he shakes his head and just tries again. And again, and again, until Omega’s voice rings through his frustrated focus.

“There you go, take a look,” he says, warm, and if Aurum knew any better, he’d say Omega sounded proud. It makes his head spin. He ignores it. He glances over to the mirror above the sink in the corner of the room and just stares.

Hair still dark. His horns gone. He doesn’t look quite human, too many teeth to fit properly in his mouth, but it’s passable. His skin, instead of the deep charcoal it once was, is a rich, warm brown. His eyes are no longer gold, now so dark it’s hard to distinguish pupil from iris at this distance.

Aurum’s not sure how he feels about this new appearance. He’s just starting to figure it out when the magic slips from him and his reflection is far more familiar.

“That’s it!” Omega praises, resting a big hand on Aurum’s shoulder. “The first couple of times are a bit shaky, but you have the principle. I’m sure you’ll have it down in no time.”

Aurum tries again until he sees that strange man in the mirror again. He rolls his shoulders, staring himself down. Seeing the reflection move cements it a little more into reality instead of a trick of the light. As does looking down at the paler skin of his palms. Short, blunt, almost pink nailbeds instead of claws.

He takes a deep breath, gaze shifting to that fucking mask. He rolls his shoulders again. There’s an ache in the movement that the quintessence hasn’t touched. This has been the strangest day? Week? Who knows how long he’s been Up Top. But it’s been the strangest period of his life, and he knows that stranger is coming still.

He stands, and Omega rushes to steady him. “Easy, Multi, no need to rush,” he presses, but Aurum just tunes him out.

“Gotta go meet the Cardinal at some point, right?” Aurum says, flashing Omega a bright, toothy smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before putting on the mask. “Might as well get it over with.”

Omega smiles back. Probably a little more genuine than Aurum’s own, but not by much. He pulls out his own mask, a similar design but a much more matte silver, almost pewter, and there’s no slot for his mouth. “You do have a point,” he says, voice barely muffled, and turns to open the door. “Follow me.”

Aurum takes a breath and follows Omega out of the infirmary.

It’s the first real glimpse of this new world he’s stumbled into. It reminds him, painfully, viscerally, of the grand cathedrals he used to attend with his family. The thought is swiftly and methodically put away. All of the pain pushed to the furthest recesses of his mind so he can stay on guard.

The halls of the Ministry remind him painfully, viscerally, of the chapels and sanctums and grand cathedrals he’d attended a lifetime ago with his family. The thought is swiftly and methodically put away in the furthest recesses of his mind. He needs to stay on guard, even as he walks behind Omega’s larger form.

It’s new and it’s familiar all at once. Lined with high, arching windows, clear and stained glass. Statues of various Saints and iconography, countless unseeing eyes staring down at them as they walk the marble floors.

And that’s not to mention the eyes that do see him. There’s dozens upon dozens of humans moving through the hallways as well, and Aurum feels each gaze peering at him curiously. The scents are strange and foreign, yet familiar. Curiosity, nerves, appraisal. They turn to each other and whisper, and in this new glamour, all his ears let him hear is the rushed breathiness, no real words able to be made out.

He swallows hard, stares at Omega ahead of him. Walks with a purpose even if he doesn’t know what it is.

After a while, Omega stops in front of an unassuming door. A bronze nameplate reads “Treasurer,” and Aurum furrows his brow. There’s no need to distrust Omega, though, and he shrugs, rolling his neck as Omega knocks.

“Cardinal?” Omega calls. “I have your first summon ready to report for duty.”

“Oh, it is time?” A harried voice responds, muffled through the thick wood. Papers rustle. Something thuds. “I was not expecting, just a moment, perdonami.”

“Take your time, Cardinal,” Omega says, and Aurum can hear the sigh in his tone. He doesn’t try and read into it, instead glancing between the back of Omega’s head and the shine of polished brass.

Several long, awkward moments pass before footsteps approach rapidly to the door. Aurum braces himself as it opens.

The first thing he sees is the Eye. Even through the mask, the blinding white peers into the very core of his being. Aurum’s shoulders draw up on instinct and he shifts onto his back foot.

Omega bows his head. “Your first summon, Cardinal,” he says, voice low and almost distant. “Made a full recovery.”

“Thank you, Omega, your efforts are much appreciated,” the man says, brushing mousy brown hair back from his forehead before adjusting a bright red biretta with a huff. He is pasty pale, a thin mustache under a prominent nose, freckles spattered over gaunt cheeks, black grease paint around his eyes and upper lip.

Aurum blinks rapidly. He knows that voice. Sense memory fills his lungs with the cold, clear air Up Top. The portal burns where he’d been healed.

This is the human who summoned him.

Aurum didn’t get a chance to actually see him before he’d passed out from his injuries. But that voice is etched into the very core of this vessel, bound to the one who’d brought him here.

The Cardinal looks past Omega, and he cocks his head. Those mismatched eyes rake over him. Appraising. Aurum stands stock still, arms behind his back. He knows this drill. Lets the human make whatever judgment he wants to make.

He shakes his head, blinking out some sort of stupor. “Where are my manners, come in, come in,” he says, grimacing as he looks over his shoulder at the mess of papers on the desk inside.

Omega takes a step back, pressing a big hand to the small of Aurum’s back. “I will be taking my leave, Cardinal,” he says, that low, respectful tone never wavering. “The infirmary has need of me, as always. Multi, with the Cardinal, alright?”

Aurum does not look away from his summoner. He swallows hard. “Yes, Omega,” Aurum breathes.

He steps into the tiny office. He does not flinch as the door shuts behind him.

The office is small, lined with overflowing bookshelves and one high, small window to light the space, a green banker’s lamp on the desk in the center of the room to make up for it.

The Cardinal scurries back behind his desk. It’s a little too big for the office, but he doesn’t seem to care or notice. “Take a seat, take a seat,” he gestures, grimacing again as he clears a space of papers into some poor semblance of organization. “Make yourself comfortable, okie dokie?”

Aurum bows his head in the way he saw Omega do moments ago. “Thank you, Cardinal,” he says, laying it on a little too thick in an attempt to appease. This he knows how to do. “I’d rather stand if that’s alright, sir.”

The Cardinal laughs, a surprised little trill, but sits down in his own chair anyways, arranging the bright red fabric of his cassock and sash in pursuit of comfort. “I suppose you have been sitting for quite some time in the infirmary. Whatever you most prefer, makes no difference to me.”

Aurum just bows his head again. His chest rises and falls, breathing as evenly as he can. He will not walk into any trap this man sets. If he’s capable of setting them at all.

He’s learned the hard way it’s still best to be careful.

The Cardinal finishes rearranging the contents of his desk, filled with tables and numbers and odd symbols that Aurum can’t parse even if they were turned the right way round for him, and steeples his fingers, resting his elbows on the desk. “Multi, Omega said?”

Aurum nods. “Yes, Cardinal.”

The human’s chest puffs up a little, sitting up a little straighter. “Well, Multi, I would like to congratulate you on beating the odds, gave us all quite the scare, eh?”

“I apologize, Cardinal,” Aurum says.

The man scoffs, and Aurum jolts upright, meeting his gaze for the first time since he sat down. “None of that. With your successful summoning, you have made me the first person in living memory in the Clergy to summon a multighoul accidentally.”

His gaze drops to the floor, staring at the black leather shoes Omega had handed him that morning. Something uncomfortable and familiar wells up in his chest. He does his best to ignore it.

“It makes you very special, Multi, and I have thanked our Lord for this unholy blessing,” the Cardinal says. “But now that you have recovered, I would like to, eh, discuss the terms of your summoning to the Satanic Ministry.”

Aurum shuts his eyes for a moment. He knew this was coming. He knew the humans needed a ghoul for a reason. For a purpose. He does not dare get his hopes up.

“Omega told me some,” he says, testing the waters. “The Ghost Project.”

At the mention of the Project, the Cardinal visibly lights up, his white eye gleaming even in the dim light. “Si, I summoned you for the band. I, eh, needed a fire ghoul. The last one..” he trails off, glancing away at a small globe on one of the shelves. “Never mind that, no? We have a fire ghoul now, and I will take you to meet him and the rest of your new bandmates.”

Aurum nods, following the Cardinal’s gaze to watch the globe. There’s a thin layer of dust on it. He doesn’t look back until his summoner clears his throat, and he snaps back to attention.

“Within the Project, there have always been ghouls backing the Prince’s Mouthpiece. Helping him spread the Prince’s message. And each element had a specific role. An earth ghoul on drums. An air ghoul on keys. A water ghoul for a bassist. And so on, si? But now, with you here, we get to make something new. Something unique.” The Cardinal seems to gain confidence as he speaks, straightening in his seat, something bright gleaming in the dark green of his normal eye.

Aurum nods again. He digs his blunt, glamoured nails into the delicate skin of his wrist. “I will be useful, Cardinal.”

The human furrows his brow, cocks his head. “You will be more than useful, my ghoul. You will be great.”

He forces a bit of faked nonchalance through. Shrugs and presses his lips together in a thin line. “I hope I’ll serve you well,” he says. Not matter what he does to try and stop it, there’s a sinking feeling in Aurum’s chest that he can’t deny.

The Cardinal smiles. “Si, me too.”

Aurum blinks. He’s been so busy keeping up his own facade that he didn’t notice that the Cardinal has his own up as well. He takes a breath. “Did you have an idea on my role, Cardinal?”

The man sits up a little straighter in his chair. “A few, that I’d like to pitch. We have an equal amount of experience with the Project here,” he jokes. It falls a little flat. Aurum just stares.

“What would you like me to do?” Aurum asks again. Does his best to keep his tone even and calm.

The Cardinal looks up at him. The Eye pierces through him. Burns. “I would like to know what kind of, eh. Musical experience you have. If you do not have any, you can be taught.”

“I can sing some,” he says, keeping his posture as rigid as he can. No use in fidgeting in front of him. He hasn’t caught onto Aurum’s front yet. The mask helps some, as much as it pains him to admit it.

He lights up at Aurum’s admission, clapping his hands together. “Good, very good, I was in need of another vocalist. I have an air ghoulette who will be doing vocals for me, but I want a deeper voice too. Round it out some, no?”

Aurum nods. “Yes, sir.”

“We might also be able to get you on guitar and some assorted percussion. Shaker or tamborine, I am thinking. Not all at once, different parts for different songs, but I hope to have you fill out our rough edges.”

Aurum blinks. Nods even though he feels like he’s thrown himself into the deep end. The edges of himself feel jagged at best, and he wants him to smooth out the others that he hasn’t even met yet? He’ll try his best to avoid being thrown back and replaced with someone better. “I hope I will suffice, Cardinal.”

He runs leather covered fingers through his mousy hair, shoving the strands back in place. Those mismatched eyes meet his through the mask. “I’m sure you will, Multi. Our Lord must have had a reason that I summoned you. I am curious to find out why along with you.”

Aurum does not flinch. Offers his summoner a smile, flashing the smoothed out, glamoured teeth. The Cardinal returns it.

He claps his hands together again, leather on leather muffling the smack. “Are we, eh, on the same page on what I want from you, Multi?” he asks, and there’s something almost genuinely worried in his tone.

Aurum nods, taking a deep breath. Keeps his smile bright. “I think I understand, sir.”

“Excellent.” The Cardinal reddens slightly, his gaze darting away for a moment. It’s almost a relief to have the Eye off of him. “I have taken enough of your time, I think. I would like to take you to meet your bandmates. I am sorry for having you led on a goose chase around the Abbey, heh.”

Meeting other ghouls. Aurum stifles the instinctive fear response and stands as straight as he can. “It’s fine,” he says, putting everything into keeping his voice clear and level. “Should stretch my legs.”

The Cardinal stands with a huff. “Well then, off to the ghoul wing, no?”

Aurum takes a step back, allows the Cardinal to pass him, and falls into line. It leaves something bitter at the back of his tongue, but the idea of going back scares him more than anything else. Aurum does his best not to show it.

He’s led through the halls once again, ducking down staircases and winding through corridors until he’s standing in front of an unmarked door. The Cardinal takes a deep breath. “These will lead to your quarters, the band ghoul quarters. There’s a commons and a kitchen, and your packmates should have set aside a room for you. Aether-” The Cardinal cuts himself off. His mismatched eyes narrow for a moment, some conflict racing behind them. He gestures at the door, seemingly giving up on whatever train of thought he’d been on.

Aurum shuts his eyes for a moment. Braces himself. He remembers Omega saying that name, what feels like forever ago. But he shakes his head. Pushes the door open. Best to get this over with.

He steps into the ghoul den, the Cardinal right behind him.

It’s lit warmly, a few couches and arm chairs scattered around the large commons. Bookshelves line the walls, as well as a few odd pieces of human technology that he can’t quite parse. It’s warm, and Aurum can’t help himself from letting his shoulders drop.

That is, until he notices he and the Cardinal are not alone in this room.

His eyes lock onto a pair of ghoulettes tucked together on one of the couches, bent over a book and talking quietly to each other. They look up in unison as they too realize they’ve been joined. A cloud of silver white curls block the eyes of the smaller of the pair, but the taller of them stares at him with warm grey eyes, pupils little pinpricks, almost blue black hair draped down her back. The scent of the room shifts to unease, and Aurum’s not sure how much of it is his own nerves and how much is theirs. He notices neither of them are glamoured or masked.

The smaller of the ghoulettes shifts in front of the other. “Cardinal,” she greets, voice chiming like bells, even as her gaze never leaves Aurum. He can feel it pierce through the chrome of his mask even though he can’t see her eyes behind her curls.

“Cumulus, Cirrus, my lionesses,” Copia says, bowing his head for a moment. He takes off his biretta and clutches it to his chest.

The taller of the ghoulettes cocks her head, glancing between her summoner and Aurum and back. “Are you the multighoul everyone’s been talking about who’s joining us?” she asks. The corner of her lips quirk up for a moment.

Aurum shrugs, pulling together every piece of a front as he can. “Suppose so,” he says, trying to match her smile. “So far, I’m the only multi I’ve met here.”

The words taste sour, even as he knows them to be true. Thankfully, neither the ghoulettes or the Cardinal pick up on it.

The smaller ghoulette grins, needle sharp fangs filling her smile. ““It’s lovely to finally meet you,” she says. “I’m Cumulus, and this is my mate Cirrus.”

He matches her grin and presses a hand to his sternum. He feels the buttons of his shirt press against his palm. It’s almost grounding. It makes the smile on his face genuine. “I’m Multi. I look forward to working with you.”

Cirrus looks to the Cardinal. “This will be fun,” she laughs, and Aurum feels heat come to his cheeks, thankful the mask can, well. Mask it. The Cardinal doesn’t have that sort of luxury, going scarlet under the attention of two, undoubtedly, beautiful ghoulettes.

The human sputters for a moment, desperately trying to pull together some sort of composure. “Is- Is everyone else here?” he asks them, and Aurum’s shoulders bristle at the reminder of more new ghouls.

Cumulus hums, thinking. “I think it’s just Dew and Rain here,” she says. “Aether’s in the infirmary, and Mountain’s out on the grounds somewhere. They should be back shortly.”

He nods, and Aurum can hear him swallow. “Alrightie. Would you like me to, eh, retrieve the gentlemen? For introductions?”

Aurum swallows as the three of them talk. He takes a deep breath. Four more to meet. One with a name that he’s heard in passing, and he thinks of the three ghouls he’d seen before he’d collapsed in his summoning. Wonders if any of them are here.

“Cardinal?” A new voice asks, and Aurum’s head whips to face it. A lanky water ghoul steps into the commons, teal finned tail curling around his calf. Deep, inky eyes take in each of them, hesitating longest on Aurum’s.

“Rain, my ghoul,” he says, pulling at the red sleeve of his cassock. Rain offers him an aloof smile, even as his eyes never leave Aurum. He seems just as guarded as Aurum feels, dipping a toe in the water, so to speak. The scent of petrichor fills the room, mixing pleasantly with the fresh air and soft florals of the ghoulettes’ scents.

“And you must be Multi,” Rain says. His voice is low, sounds like meltwater rushing over stones. Aurum’s reminded of the stories of sirens in the Fifth. This must be one of them.

“I am,” he confirms again, still not quite letting his guard down. Offers him the warmest smile he can muster.

The nervous energy in the room crackles, palpable. Not just from Rain. He’s the biggest ghoul in the room by a long shot, and quite frankly, he doesn’t blame them, even if they have him outnumbered. He breathes as steadily as he can. Tries not to broadcast anything they can use against him.

The silence is broken by a throat clearing, rough and hoarse. Aurum startles hard, as does the Cardinal and Rain. Another ghoul steps out from behind Rain, and Aurum has to do a double take.

This ghoul is the spitting image of that water ghoul he’d seen that night, standing between the quintessence and earth ghouls. But not quite. Orange eyes burn like embers into him, sharp features narrowed into a glare as they rake over him. Appraising. It seems like Aurum comes up short, because he huffs loudly.

Instead of the long, silvery hair Aurum remembers seeing, there’s choppy, copper hair sliced off just long enough to brush against narrow shoulders, just barely hiding a rounded, cauterized scar on his throat. Broken obsidian horns jutting out through the strands of hair. Bony arms cross over his chest, a spiked tail padding against the ground, loudly broadcasting irritation just as clear as the acrid, smokey scent that fills the room.

“Dewdrop,” the Cardinal says, nervously glancing between Aurum and this newcomer. The human’s voice seems to snap him out of his glare. He lowers his head for a moment. Aurum’s eyes lock onto a string of bluish pearls hanging from a pocket in his pants, a mother of pearl grucifix swinging as he shifts his weight.

“Cardinal,” he says, hesitant reverence just barely covering a tenseness in his voice. It sounds rough, like he hasn’t had a drink of water in weeks. “This is him?”

Aurum hates the way they’re talking about him like he isn’t even in the room. But he is in fact the newcomer here, yields to the others. Does not want to make a scene, will walk the line carefully for now.

“Yes,” the Cardinal says. The leather of his gloves creak as he grips his biretta tighter. Dewdrop’s eyes lock onto Aurum then, and if his gaze earlier had felt hot, then this must be what the sun feels like.

He shifts, rocking onto the backfoot in a way he hopes comes across as unbothered.

Dewdrop raises an eyebrow. “Take the mask off. Don’t need it here. Let us see who we have to put up with.”

Aurum grins, bright and as easy as he can make it seem even as he can hear the Cardinal sputtering. He reaches up to pull the chrome from his face, letting his glamour melt away. He feels their eyes on him, searching for something he can’t quite place. Can’t quite place what exactly they all think of his unglamoured, true appearance. “My apologies, Dewdrop, but have we met before? You seem incredibly familiar. I think you were there for my summoning, but you looked a little different.”

There’s a flash of something that flares in Dew’s eyes, an almost imperceptible widening, before Dewdrop just glares. But Aurum catches it.

His tail lashes behind him, spikes scraping against the floor. “Absolutely the fuck not,” he snaps. Cirrus and Cumulus’s heads whip over to stare. Rain flinches the slightest bit.

“Sorry,” Aurum shrugs, smiling but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Could’ve sworn I saw a water ghoul there, but, you know, I could have just been out of it.”

Dew’s upper lip curls up in a sneer, twisting the thin mustache there. “You were,” he snaps.

Aurum just shrugs again, still smiling easily. He can handle this. A little voice in the back of his mind laughs about denial. Like he’s one to talk. He ignores it.

“How’d you know? You just said you weren’t there,” Aurum smiles. Dewdrop scoffs loudly, and the Cardinal scrambles in between the two of them, even though there’s still almost an entire room’s worth of distance.

“Enough of that,” He says, laughing nervously. “We are to work together, no? None of this.”

Dew takes a deep, shuddering breath. He bows his head, even as his lip’s still curled up in a sneer. “Si, Cardinale.”

Aurum says nothing.

The door creaks heavily open behind him, and every muscle in his body goes rigid as Aurum can feel the ghouls looming behind him. Every eye looks past him, Dewdrop almost seeming to relax as Cumulus smiles warmly.

“Aether, Mount!” She greets. Aurum doesn’t dare turn around, the name too familiar.

“Cardinal Copia,” a deep voice says, wary. “Your presence is a pleasure.”

Another ghoul speaks, and this time Aurum tenses like he’s trapped. “And I see the multighoul’s made a full recovery.”

He knows this voice. Knows it was the ghoul that kept avoiding him when he was in the infirmary. He’s still not quite sure why, but there’s vitriol underneath the pleasantness of his tone.

“He has, si,” the Cardinal says, looking past Aurum to the two newcomers. “I brought him down to make introductions. But, Aether, surely you must have met him by now, no?”

There’s a long suffering sigh behind him, followed by a low, disingenuous laugh. Aurum remembers, distinctly, what it felt like when his feet sunk into the earth and trapped him. “No, Cardinal, my duties took me elsewhere.”

“Alrightie,” The Cardinal shrugs, turning back to Aurum, gesturing to the two big ghouls. “Multi, our earth and quintessence ghouls, Mountain and Aether. They are both veterans of the Project along with Dewdrop, and I hope they will guide you as well as they have guided me. Aether and Mountain, our new multighoul, well. Multi.”

Aurum swallows hard and turns around, clutching his mask in his hands. Behind him are two of the biggest ghouls he’s ever seen. It takes every ounce of his will not to cower back, to hold his own as they both glare at him.

The earth ghoul, Mountain, has to hunch slightly, so tall that his antlers would scrape against the stonework ceiling if he stood straight, taller than Esker and Moraine both. Long auburn hair falls from where he tied it back, emerald eyes piercing and narrowed. He cocks his head back and forth, hackles raised.

And if Aurum thought that Mountain was glaring at him, Aether’s glare is so much worse. There’s something burning in the deep violet of his eyes, the bulk of his wide shoulders and broad chest heaving as he grits his teeth. Bright purple hair rushes back in a mohawk, framed by two black, pronged horns. His upper lip lifts in a snarl, revealing a gold tusk.

The Cardinal wrings his hands. “Enough of that, we are to work together, no?”

Aether freezes, squeezes his eyes shut. Mountain puts his hand on the other ghoul’s shoulders. “Of course, Cardinal,” Mountain says, voice deep and soft like a distant rockslide. “Aeth,” he says, leaning in to whisper to him. “Aeth, please.”

The quintessence ghoul, after a moment, nods. “Yes,” he says, bowing a head to the new frontman. He levels one last glare at Aurum before moving past him, bumping shoulders harshly as he makes his way to Dew’s side. He pulls the little fire ghoul against him, and he goes without protest.

Aurum matches his stare, holds his chin up, because there’s no fucking way he’s going to let that slide. But in front of the Cardinal, he just holds himself to the promise of later.

The Cardinal claps his gloved hands together, the sharp noise enough to startle several ghouls, Aurum included. “Well. Introductions. I will show Multi to his room and then I will be out of your hair,” he says, forced cheer barely hiding the man’s nerves. They smell acrid.

Cumulus smiles, leaning against Cirrus’ shoulder. “Perfect,” she says, either not picking up on or just straight up ignoring the thick tension in the air.

“When do practices start?” Rain cuts in, finned tail flicking through the air like it’s cutting through water. His long, elegant fingers twitch at his sides, glancing around the room and not quite looking at his summoner.

The Cardinal thinks for a moment, clearly not quite comfortable yet with everyone’s eyes on him. “Group practice will start tomorrow,” he says. “Once you all have had a little time to settle. Get to know each other.”

The speed at which everyone’s eyes shift from the Cardinal to Aurum makes his head spin. His fingers clench at his side, and his heart races so fast he thinks that Omega might have made the wrong choice releasing him from his care.

Aurum straightens, muscles so tense his back starts to ache, before dropping into a looser, more relaxed posture, glancing from ghoul to ghoul. He hopes he’s coming off as warm. It seems like it’s working until he locks eyes with Aether.

The anger there is palpable.

If he were unglamoured, his ears would pin back flush to his skull, tail curling around his leg like a kit. But he swallows hard and meets Aether’s gaze back.

The world around him sort of dulls. He can hear the Cardinal wishing them farewell as he returns to his own duties, hears himself replying alongside the others. But there’s a fog around him that’s only broken when Aether huffs, turning to Dewdrop and murmuring something too low for him to pick up. The two of them turn and disappear down the hallway, and one by one, the others go too.

Aurum squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a shallow, shaky exhale once he thinks he’s alone. Lets everything come down for just a moment before trying to integrate himself into this pack’s lives.

“You alright?”

Aurum startles, whirling on his heels to face the voice. He’s met with the water ghoul, Rain. Those inky deep eyes stare into him, the distinction between pupil and iris only differentiated with a glimmer of blue.

He blinks slowly, head tilting as he takes Aurum in. Aurum just straightens, hoping that at least one of these ghouls finds something worthy.

“I’m sure they’ll warm up to you soon,” he says, gills on the sides of his neck fluttering with the rise and fall of his chest. His voice is quiet, not quite shy but something aloof and hesitant. “It took them a few days for me.”

Aurum’s brow furrows, unable to look away from this siren. Rain blinks, finned ears tucked close to his head, the teal peeking out from blue-black waves that hang shaggy and brush against his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Aurum says. He isn’t sure what he’s apologizing for.

Rain just shakes his head. Puts a hand on his bicep, fingers splayed and putting the webbing on full display. “Do you want me to show you where you’re staying?” he asks softly.

He manages to pull his eyes away from Rain, glancing to the hallway all the others disappeared down. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

The water ghoul smiles wide enough to put those serrated teeth on full display, and Aurum hauls his guard all the way back up. “Follow me, all of us new summons are at the end of the hall.”

He turns and walks away, and Aurum snaps out of whatever weird fog he’d found himself in to follow.

The hall is narrow, lined with thick wooden doors, each with a bronze nameplate. Aether, Mountain, Dewdrop… and then the nameplates tarnish, letters scraped away in a fury. Aurum’s hackles raise as Rain leads him further away from the open common room. His stomach churns. There is something unfathomably large here. Invisible, almost tangible.

For what it’s worth, Rain either isn’t affected by it, or is just incredibly good at pretending. He keeps walking to the very end of the hall, a small altar set into a niche. The flame of the pillar candle set there flickers, and Aurum shifts onto his back foot. His heart races in time with it and he hates it.

Rain turns back around. Aurum scrambles to look nonchalant. “This one’s yours,” he says, voice smooth and even, gesturing to a door with another scratched out nameplate. The only betrayal of confusion on Rain’s face is the way his dark eyes flash from Aurum to the altar and back.

“Thanks,” he says, trying his best to lay it on thick the way that made Fog smack his arm playfully, once upon a time. Even though it’s only been a few weeks at most since he’d crawled from the Pit, it genuinely feels like a lifetime ago. Like it was a completely different ghoul who’d run with Fog and her pack.

It was.

He slips into the room that is apparently his now and starts to close the door. Rain cuts in, long fingers curling elegantly around the door jamb. “I’ll see you at practice?” he says, an eyebrow quirking up in curiosity. His finned tail flicks behind him.

“ Aurum nods, reaching a hand up to smooth back his locs. “I’ll see you at practice. This can’t be too hard, right?” There’s a lilt in his tone, even as his fingers shake the slightest bit. Rain shrugs, shifting on his feet. Stares at him down the bridge of his prominent nose. “It was pretty quick to pick up bass guitar,” Rain says. “I’ve never played before. I don’t know how quickly you’ll pick up your parts, though. The Cardinal said that you’d have more than one.” Aurum exhales hard through his nose. “For the different elements.” ”That’s what he told me,” Rain says. “I do hope you don’t have too hard a time. Though some of the others might be able to help? Depending on what elements.”

He just shrugs. “I’ll ask for help if I need it,” he lies. “I’ve always been pretty quick at picking things up.”

Rain smiles. “Good to hear. I- Uh, I think I’m taking up too much of your time,” he says, finned tail sweeping against the stone floor as it waves behind him languidly. “I’ll let you get settled.”

“It was nice meeting you, Rain,” he says, because it’s true.

“Likewise. Glad you’re doing better.” The water ghoul lowers his head for a moment, before backing away with a smile and turning towards another door, the same defaced brass nameplate embedded in it. “See you tomorrow.”

Aurum nods. “See you tomorrow.”

He slips into his room, and his entire posture drops the moment he hears the door latch. He flips the lock before pressing his back against the door, chest heaving with a long, weary sigh. Everything feels like it’s crushing him, a barrage of new stimuli making his skin itch in a way it hasn’t in a while.

Aurum gives himself just a moment to shove his face in his hands. He does his best to get his breathing under control. It shakes and protests his every effort to force it into obedience.

Eventually though, he gets there. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out at the next new sensation anymore. He rolls his shoulders back, one of them popping and settling back into its joint, and takes a look around.

It’s fairly bare bones, but it’s more furnished than anything Aurum’s had access to since he was a kit. A mattress on a frame large enough for him to properly stretch out on, burgundy sheets and covers made up in crisp, near military lines. A desk and chair, a wardrobe, a floor lamp, shelves with nothing held upon them. There’s heavy, navy curtains against one of the walls, a sliver of golden, reddish light painted onto the stone floor where they haven’t been drawn all the way.

He showers, ridding himself of the last of the antiseptic scent that’s been clinging to him since he left the infirmary. Changes into soft, warm clothes that have been supplied to him. The adrenaline of everything new is coming down and coming down fast.

Aurum sprawls out on his back on his brand new bed, not even bothering to turn down the covers. He groans as he almost seems to sink into the mattress, so much softer than where he’s been sleeping for the last few parts of his life.

His chest rises and falls with a deep, slow breath. And then his brow furrows.

The room has been cleaned since whoever lived here last left. But underneath the scent of fresh air when the windows had been left open to air out, there’s the hint of something darker, warmer. Almost, he strains to inhale as much as he can, like amber and saffron and spice.

He lays on his back, eyes wide open, as he stares up at the ceiling, breathing in the last dregs of this stranger’s scent. There’s a scorch mark on the one of the tiles in the tin ceiling.

Sleep takes him as he wonders who he’d been meant to replace, and why they’d need replacing.

Practice starts early the next morning. Rain meets him in the commons, wearing all black and an identical mask to the one that Omega’d given him, presses a mug of something hot and bitter smelling into his hands. “There’s sugar in the kitchen, but a couple of the others are there right now. I understand if you want to keep a little distance for now, they were pretty harsh yesterday.”

Aurum blinks, still reeling from a dream where someone’d been yelling at him. He’d woken up unsure whose voice it was, rattled to the core. “Thanks,” he says, a little wide eyed. Aurum glances down at the mug and takes a sip, grimacing at the taste. “Shit, that’s, that’s sure something,” he sputters, laughing a little.

Rain smiles a little sheepishly, glancing up at the clock. “It’s coffee. Should wake you up a little bit,” he teases, knocking a shoulder against Swiss’s. The ease with which Rain’s made himself comfortable with Aurum makes his head spin a little. “Reckoned you didn’t have any in the infirmary. It’s very human.”

“They drink this?” he says, a little astonished. Rain just laughs. Cirrus and Cumulus emerge from the hallway, greeting Rain before turning to Aurum.

“Morning, boys,” Cumulus says, face rosy with sleep, her curls neatly pulled back as she buttons up her black uniform shirt, her tie and suspenders missing. She’s tucked under Cirrus’s arm, held close to her side.

“Good morning,” Aurum says, bowing his head a little as he greets each of them. His tail flicks and curls around his calves, moving languidly. Cirrus smiles, glances at his mug.

“We’re excited to finally have you join us,” she says, her voice soft and low. In the hand that’s not around her partner’s shoulders is a similar mask to the one that Aurum wears now, silver curls framing the face.

“Me too,” he says, and he’s genuinely surprised to realize that he means it. He takes another drink from the mug Rain had given him, grimacing.

“There’s milk and sugar in the kitchen,” the water ghoul says again, almost reaching to take the mug from him.

Aurum opens his mouth to reply when two figures emerge from the kitchen door. He freezes in place as bright violet eyes glare at him from behind chrome.

“Morning, Aeth,” Cumulus says, glancing between the quint ghoul and Aurum, judging the tension. Aether turns away to face her, and Aurum feels something bristle in him at the way Aether’s entire self seems to melt.

He doesn’t know what he’s done to upset him, and the sting of familiarity is the part that hurts the most.

Aurum downs the rest of the coffee, ignoring the sharp taste, and slinks into the kitchen to put the mug in the sink. The day’s hardly begun and he already wants to go back to hiding in his room.

But practice is to be had, and he doesn’t want to risk upsetting his summoner by not attending. All of the ghouls gather in the commons, dressed near identically, and one by one, they don their masks and slip out into the halls. Aurum follows them, winding through another set of hallways and stairwells until they reach a room in the lowest level of the Ministry with wide double doors.

There’s about a dozen instruments mounted on the walls, and Aether, Dew and Rain each reach for one of their own. Sleek, black and white, almost sharp curved bodies, and they sling the guitar straps over their shoulders before heading to the center of the room.

It’s the mock up of a stage, and Mountain holds out his hand to Cumulus as they and Cirrus climb up the steps to the back platform; the ghoulettes sitting behind keyboards and Mountain taking a deep breath as he sits behind a massive, intricate drum kit.

There’s an empty corner marked by a microphone, and Aurum glances around waiting for any sort of direction. A flash of red catches his eye, and he turns to face the Cardinal.

“Multi, I apologize, heh,” he says, tripping over his tongue in his mouth as he approaches Aurum. The other ghouls warm up, tuning and testing equipment, and some of them look like it’s simply second nature. His fingers twitch. “Forgive me, I have not shown you your instruments or your parts.”

Aurum bows his head. “It’s alright, Cardinal,” he says, even as he feels his heartbeat picking up, that bird that makes his ribcage its home desperate to get out. “Yesterday was busy.”

“Eh, it was,” he says, leading Aurum back to that wall of instruments. His summoner reaches up and pulls down a sleek black guitar, rounded edges polished to such a shine that he can see his own reflection in it. “This is to be yours, my ghoul.”

The Cardinal passes it to him, and Aurum takes it carefully. Knows instinctively that this is an object of some great importance. It feels almost right in his hands and he relishes in that sensation. “I- uh- forgive me, Cardinal,” he says carefully, watching his face for any sort of reaction. “I’ve never played anything like this.”

He just nods, like he’d been expecting such a response. “Many of our ghouls who have served the Project had no musical experience prior to coming Up Top,” he says, and Aurum can hear the many times his summoner’s said this before in the tone of his voice. “You can be taught, and well, eh, most of our newcomers pick up their required skills quite quickly.”

Aurum takes a deep breath, slings the strap over his head, and tries to settle his limbs in a close approximation of how Rain’s holding his guitar. Fingertips of one hand on the neck, thumb resting on the thickest string. It smells of metal and polish, heavy in his nose but far from unpleasant.

“Your guitar parts are in a folder on your platform,” the Cardinal continues. “Of course, when we do head out for shows, we do need to be memorized. Lord Below knows I still need to do some memorizing of the old songs.”

Aurum nods, but he’s picking gently at that thickest string, feeling the vibration of the lowest note buzz against his stomach. He swallows hard. He can do this. And once he gets back into the practice of reading music and singing, he should be golden. The thought makes him cringe for just a moment.

Once again, he’s glad he’s wearing something that obscures most of his face.

“And you have very similar parts to Aether, so if you need help, I am almost certain he’d be willing to help you. He is a very skilled guitarist.”

Aurum wouldn’t call himself the greatest at reading people, especially humans he’s known for less than twenty four hours. But the waiver of uncertainty in the Cardinal’s tone is loud and clear. He glances over the human’s shoulder, only flinching a little bit as those violet eyes burn into him.

Aether turns his back, making his way over to Dewdrop, and leans in to whisper in the fire ghoul’s ear. Dew nods, glancing over to the Cardinal, before letting Aether guide his hands over his instrument.

“He’s been helping Dewdrop learn a new instrument as well,” the Cardinal explains uncertainly. He wrings his gloved hands together in a motion that almost looks like he wants to pick at his hangnails, but the leather prevents such a thing. “He has truly been a great help during this time of great transition.”

Dew looks up at that. Orange eyes burning. Aurum just swallows hard, staring down at the guitar in his hands. “Thank you, Cardinal. I look forward to learning.”

He smiles, the thin mustache on his upper lip curling a little bit. Nervous, sure, but genuine.

It’s easy enough to refresh himself on reading sheet music. He thanks the Sisters that humans used a similar enough notation, and then freezes up on his platform. Aurum hasn’t done anything like that in decades, thanking the Sisters. He shakes his head and gets back to it.

He’s more than clumsy with his new guitar, outshined by miles by the rest of the ghouls around him. Aurum likes to think he makes up for it with his singing. He can feel the gazes of the others, turning to watch when the Cardinal works with him alone.

In the same way that Aurum’s new life had been measured by the intervals between being checked up on in the infirmary, his life becomes the intervals between practices. It’s a struggle, sometimes, willing himself to focus on learning.

Something deep inside of him bristles when he sings praise for a deity he turned his back on more than half of his life ago.

But he knows, somehow, that to protest means being sent back. And that thought makes him feel worse. Not after all the work they’d put in to keep him alive. Aurum knows they’d take it out of his hide before kicking him back Down.

So he keeps singing.

The guitar comes less easily, much to his frustration. The damn thing is so touchy, intricate and foreign. As much as he doesn’t want to, with the tour fast approaching and his parts far from mastered, he knows what his only option is.

It’s difficult to get him alone, because he’s always shoulder to shoulder with Dewdrop, but somehow, Aurum catches Aether alone in the Ministry halls one afternoon.

The quintessence ghoul’s expression changes lightning fast when he realizes who’d stopped him, just a flash of vitriol before fading to something pointedly neutral. “How can I help you, Multi?”

Aurum tries his best to pull together any semblance of confidence, that ease and smoothness that he can pull with Rain, Cirrus, Cumulus. He holds his wrist behind his back, fingers wrapped around thin skin over bone.

“I was told by the Cardinal that you’d be willing to help me with practice?” he says, and curses himself to the City and back when it comes out shaky. Unsure. “Having, well, a fair bit of trouble with the guitar. I’m not quite getting the hang of it.”

Aether, even behind the mask, raises an eyebrow. Aurum winces as he stares him down. “I know,” he says curtly. “Believe me, I know.”

Aurum’s hackles raise, and he takes a deep breath to try and stay level. He knows Aether’s got him beat if he steps out of line. All he smells is ozone. Roiling storms under the thin veneer of fresh air. “Well, sorry, this is all still new to me,” he mumbles, looking away. “The Cardinal told me to go to you.”

Aether huffs, thick arms crossed in front of a broad chest. There’s the glint of silver, a bracelet, wrapped around one wrist. “Well, I can help you, but I’m currently helping Dewdrop with lead guitar. I will help you as soon as he’s got it down.”

“I need- Don’t we leave-” Aurum sputters, grip tightening around his own wrist. “Please.”

Aether hums, head tipping back a little as he considers. “I know we leave soon. I’m just,” he takes a deep breath. Aurum is reminded of overhearing him that first day awake. “I’m incredibly busy,” he says. “You know what? I’m going to talk to Omega. He had my part when he was part of the Project. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you while I help Dewdrop.”

Aurum slinks back a little bit. “I mean, absolutely, any help I could possibly get.” He tries not to let any sort of bitterness through on his tone. But he knows Aether’s quintessence, can probably tell anyways.

Aether grins. The gold fang gleams at him through the cutout of his mask. “I’ll go talk to him, then. On my way to the infirmary now, as it was. I’ll have him let you know.”

Aurum knows a dismissal when he hears it. He lowers his head to Aether the way he’s been doing to the Cardinal. Something burns in his chest. “Thank you, Aether,” he says. He’s not sure how much of it he means.

Omega reaches out not long after. To his credit, Omega’s an incredibly skilled guitarist. Infinitely patient as well. He’s taught before, even if he doesn’t mention who exactly it was in Aurum’s position last.

He works Aurum through all of the old songs, trying his hand at some of the Cardinal’s own, even if he never played any of them with the Project. It’s always at strange times of day, whenever Omega can sneak away from the infirmary for an hour or two without the place catching fire.

But Aurum is truly grateful for any help he can get, does his genuine best to focus and learn and absorb. Tour looms closer every single day.

It’s late one night, a few days before they’re meant to ship out, when Aurum turns to Omega in the practice room after the older ghoul hangs up his retired Fantomen back on its mount.

“I really don’t think Aether told me the truth,” Aurum says, fiddling with a tuning peg on his own Hagström.

“Hm?” Omega says, running a clawed hand through his greying hair. “About what?”

Aurum takes a breath. “About why exactly he couldn’t help me? He said he had to help Dewdrop, but their parts aren’t the same.”

Even with his back turned, Aurum can see clear as day the way Omega stiffens. A low groan escapes his throat. “I trust Aether. With the Project and the infirmary. I trained him for both. But you’re right. Aether’s… Aether’s troubled right now. Who isn’t?”

Aurum doesn’t respond.

Omega turns to peer over his shoulder, a bright lavender eye meeting his own. “It’s not my business to share, but things have been shaken up here quite dramatically in the last year.”

He nods. “I- I can feel it,” he admits, stretching his wrists and shoulders. “It feels like- I was in kind of a bad spot Down Below for a while. Kind of feels like that. Waiting for a shoe to drop.”

Omega, like he had in the infirmary countless times, goes a little hazy in his eyes. It’s only for a moment, and he snaps back to himself visibly. Gives a little chuckle. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“What happened to Aether?” Aurum asks. He’s a little surprised to find genuine curiosity behind it.

The older ghoul lets out a soft exhale through his nose, those violet eyes shutting as he braces himself. Goes somewhere else for a moment. “That’s, well. That’s not exactly for me to tell you. Not my business. But he, Mountain, and Dewdrop are the only surviving ghouls of the previous… administration. Minus myself. But I’m from some time older.”

Aurum lets that sit for a moment. But Omega’s not done.

“Aether took it particularly hard because of the fact that he and Dewdrop are mates. Very recent mates, in fact.” Omega’s brow furrows, and he looks deeply concerned all of a sudden. “Don’t tell them I’m telling you this. But they only became mates after you were summoned. I think it gave them enough to make it through that week. Lord Below knows they needed it, may He watch over them.”

He shrinks in on himself. Stares at Omega.

The silence feels thick and sticky, and Aurum’s hackles raise. Omega startles a little. “Wait, I forgot-” He turns to where his white coat’s abandoned in a pile on a crate of equipment; abandoned when he’d come in for lessons. “I know you’re headed out with the Cardinal in a few days. I wanted to give you a going away gift, of sorts.”

Aurum perks up, head tilted like a puppy that’s found something confusing. “Oh, Omega, I couldn’t-”

Omega doesn’t seem to listen, rustling in his coat pockets. “You’ve grown leaps and bounds since we’ve met, Multi, and I am genuinely, deeply proud of all that you’ve been able to accomplish. I’m certain you are going to make the Olde One proud.”

Despite the way his chest swells with warmth as Omega praises him, Aurum winces hard at the thought. Omega’s back is turned and he doesn’t notice a thing. With a satisfied huff, Omega straightens once he’s found what he’s looking for. He turns back with a black velvet bag in one large hand. It’s similar to the bag that had held his mask when it had been presented to him.

“Now, I haven’t seen you attend Mass. And that’s perfectly fine, I promise. Not all of us- I understand not everyone is deeply pious here, despite it being an abbey. But I still wanted to give you this for the road. It brought me comfort when I was away from the chapels, on tours, and I hope that you may find use for it.”

Omega presses the bag into Aurum’s waiting hands, beaming down at him. “Thank you,” he says, feeling items shifting underneath the velvet. Something hard. “Truly.”

He claps him on the shoulder, and Aurum shuts his eyes with a shudder at the sensation of touch. “You’re going to be great, Multi. Don’t you forget it.”

“Thank you, Omega,” Aurum says, because that’s all he feels like he knows how to say. “I- I’ll do my best.”

“And that is all we ask for,” Omega says, but there’s something behind his eyes that says that’s not up to him to decide.

Once he’s back in the ghoul wing, sequestered away carefully behind a locked door, he overturns the contents of that little velvet bag over his duvet. A few things tumble out; a bundle of incense that smells sweet and herbal, even unlit, a plain silver grucifix on a rosary, a gold ceramic candle holder, and a tall, thin black pillar candle.

All of a sudden, he’s a kit leaving home again, the last glance at that altar opposite the front door with the five candles identical to this very one.

His chest heaves, claws digging into the meat of his palms. A gray haze settles over him. Aurum doesn’t know how much time passes before he snaps out of it, a sharp pain in the spade of his tail.

He shakes himself to awareness to find the leathery spade between his teeth, fangs having pierced the skin on accident. Like a teething fucking kit instead of a grown adult.

“ Fuck, ” he snaps, cursing up a quiet storm in Ghoulish. He reaches for the candle holder, itching to feel the way it’ll shatter if he fastballs the ceramic into the stone wall. A wave of shame hits him like a train at the thought and his tail, still bleeding sluggishly, curls around his calf.

This was a gift. A travel altar for the One Aurum’s turned his back on, sure, but it’s still a gift. He can’t just- Fuck!

Aurum snarls, pacing a little in his room, still just as bare bones as the moment Rain showed it to him. There’s a bag half packed on his desk, toiletries and whatever casual clothes he’s been able to scrounge up. Mostly band tees and jeans, but that’s not important when compared to the garment bag that his uniform is hung up in.

Aurum takes a deep breath and packs up Omega’s gift. Tucks the travel altar into the very bottom of his bag. Just to say he took it if Omega asks later.

He thinks he’s ready. For what it’s worth, he convinces himself he’s ready. He’s always been a halfway decent liar.

The start of the tour is not marked with a grand departure. Sure, the human Siblings of the Abbey celebrate the spreading of the Word, but it is overshadowed by the sense of upheaval and grief that cloaks the entire Ministry. And there is absolutely nothing glamorous in the way all seven ghouls and the Cardinal shuffle about their tour bus, trying to get situated.

Aurum watches his bandmates claim bunks, stands for a moment watching all of the chaos as the Cardinal shuffles through the tight aisle to get to the back bedroom. He takes a deep breath and hauls himself up into one of the top bunks that the others seem to be ignoring.

It’s dark and quiet, and Aurum instantly relaxes despite the tight quarters reminding him intimately of that lichen covered cave in the Seventh. Of ghouls he has been trying so hard not to think about since he nearly burned alive.

He shuts his eyes. This is to be his home for the next few months. Best that he gets rid of that connotation sooner rather than later.

The bus rumbles underneath him, and soon, Aurum finds himself falling asleep.

The next thing he really knows, between sleep and travel and the dull haze he’s been finding himself slipping into every now and again, is waiting backstage at his very first Ritual.

Aurum can hear the people outside waiting for them, the noise of the crowd cresting and falling like a living, breathing thing. He supposes it sort of is. Aurum doesn’t think he’s quite wrapped his head around what he’s gotten himself into.

There’s no nerves. He itches to be out of his glamour. His fingers reach up to fidget with the hem of his balaclava, can feel the heat of the sun beating down onto him and his bandmates, all in their matching black uniforms.

It doesn’t bother him, body already used to such warm temperatures, but he seems to be only one of a few. Cumulus fans herself with her hand as she stands next to Aether and Dew in their little huddle.

“This is nothing,” he overhears Aether tell Cumulus, nudging a big shoulder against the smaller ghoul’s before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Our old uniforms, the wool cassocks and the masks without the cutouts? Woof. Imagine breathing in your own humidity for several hours straight.”

“At least we weren’t around for those big robes when the Project first started,” Dew cuts in, shaking out his hands, flexing spindly fingers like he’s itching to get his Fantomen in his hands. The blue of his eyes gleams out from the eye holes of his mask. Aurum avoids his gaze.

Rain wrings his hands in front of him, long fingers curling around each other, and Mountain leans in to whisper in the water ghoul’s ear. Eventually, Rain relaxes some, leaning up to smile and whisper back to the taller ghoul.

Of all of them, Cirrus seems the least affected by what they’re all about to do, minus the ghouls who have in fact done this before.

Aurum does his best to remember chords and frets and finger placements and setlist order and harmonies and there is so much going on in his head he feels like it might burst. No, it’s not nerves, he laughs quietly to himself.

The Cardinal is with them, travel mug in hand, pacing and muttering to himself in a mix of Italian, Swedish and English. The others spare him glances, and Aurum thinks he hears Cirrus ask Mountain if they should go to him.

Aurum doesn’t wait to hear the older ghoul’s response. He slips out of the circle and falls in step at the Cardinal’s side.

The man perks up a little, stops in his tracks. Behind him, Aurum can hear the entire rest of the band fall uneasily silent. “We go on soon, Cardinal,” Aurum leans in and murmurs in his ear. The Cardinal’s paints are freshly applied, his upper lip and eyes painted black and lined crisply. Aurum imagines that won’t quite last long, given the heat and sweat of performing, has seen the man after practices.

“Oh, believe me, eh. I know,” The Cardinal says, something bright in his eyes. The Eye especially burns out from the black paint. “You are with me for Miasma, remember?”

Aurum nods. Only vaguely remembering the talk they’d had a few weeks ago about stepping off stage to assist with that particular quick change. They’d have no other need of him during that part of the set, and he’d been more than happy to help. “Of course, Cardinal.”

The human turns to face him, and Aurum still isn’t used to the unadulterated attention of the Eye. A little voice in the back of his mind tells him that he’d run away from all of this. Another voice says that was a lifetime ago. “Are you ready, my ghoul?” he asks with some hesitancy.

Aurum shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath. Lets his shoulders rise and fall with it. “I think I am, Cardinal, and that’s much better than knowing for sure I’m not.”

It draws a startled laugh from the Cardinal’s mouth, and a little bit of the tension that wracked his frame dissipates with it. Aurum counts that as a win. “You truly walk the path of a first,” the Cardinal says, and he can’t see the way Aurum flinches. He shakes his head. The Cardinal has no reason to know of the First families that he once belonged to. “I, eh, I have some large sets of shoes to fill. But I have faith that you all and I will be of great service to our Olde One.”

Aurum opens his mouth to protest, but then there’s the call for places, and a bolt of electricity seems to shoot down each one of their spines. Brought to life and animated, the ghouls and the Cardinal all scramble to their spots. Aurum gets up on his platform, rolls his neck, and takes his Hagström from one of the techs.

Ashes begins to play, and Aurum watches from on high as the crowd morphs and comes alive . A rush of energy so strong it nearly makes his knees buckle hits him, and the show begins.

All of his nerves and fear vanish as his fingers move on muscle memory. He watches the others move on the stage below him, the Cardinal moving between them. Even as Aurum’s voice joins his, he can’t help but admit that the Cardinal’s voice was meant to be the Mouthpiece. He does not believe. Hasn’t for a very long time. But he knows that this will sway more humans to His cause, and Aurum sings and plays to the very best of his ability.

Better than all of that is the sensation of countless human eyes on him. Sure, most of them are watching the Cardinal. But he knows the feeling of being watched. Aurum just hopes they like what they’re seeing.

He lets the music move him and his body, he’s heard it all before in practice, but in performance it’s miles apart. Worries more about showmanship than precise technique.

It works perfectly until Cirice.

The Cardinal steps out onto the platform connecting his own to Mountain’s platform and Cumulus and Cirrus’s platform, walks down to center stage as the song starts. Aurum realizes with a bolt of true, genuine fear that his mind has gone blank. Muscle memory failing him.

Omega’d drilled Cirice with him for what felt like twenty thousand times. And every single one seems to have been wiped from his memory.

He knows he’s supposed to come in on harmony during the bridge, but- what section- oh fuck- it’s now, isn’t it- His entire body seizes up and he does what he’s been taught. Aurum starts to sing.

The Cardinal does not join.

Aurum’s eyes go wide and golden behind his mask. True terror fills every cell of his body. His heart is a bird slamming itself into its cage in a desperate attempt to break free or kill itself trying.

He can’t stop now, just keeps singing. And when the Cardinal comes in at the correct time, Aurum’s face burns as he sings the harmony on the bridge again.

Across the stage, Dew’s eyes burn as he glares at him. Aurum swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut. Show must go on.

And go on it does. After his little slip up with Cirice, Aurum falls back into the swing of things with an almost practiced ease. Of course, he knows it’s all bullshitted, but he does his best to actually make it seem like he knows what he’s doing.

Before he knows it, the band takes a quick break before Monstrance Clock starts, signaling the end of the Ritual. A call to dark prayer and worship, if there ever were one.

Come with us. Join us.

Despite everything, every promised curse, Aurum finds himself swaying along, his Hagström moving with him. Shuts his eyes and sings and plays and feels something spark almost painfully in his chest that he quickly snuffs out. He knows it’s there, but he’s far from ready to address it. Maybe one day. Maybe after closing dozens of shows in this exact way.

But today is not that day.

Aurum steps down from his platform for bows, hands his Hagström to the tech who’d given it to him at the start of the night, joins the others. Satisfaction and exhaustion roll of off his fellow ghouls in waves, even noticeable in human glamour. They toss out guitar picks and drumsticks bow to the crowd, hand in hand, and then they file off into the wings.

The Cardinal breaks off to talk to one of the road staff, but Aurum isn’t worried about that. He has more pressing issues. Like-

Dew storms up to him the moment they both are out of sight of the crowd, eyes burning even through the blue of his glamour.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarls as they file into the dressing room. Aether and Mountain follow close behind, and Rain shares a nervous look with Cirrus and Cumulus.

Aurum shrugs. He crosses his arms over his broad chest as Dew gets up into his space. “What? I made a mistake, oh no, they’ll banish me because I came in at the wrong place.”

Dew huffs sharply, acrid steam curling from his lips. He rolls his eyes as he glares up at him. Aurum thinks the height difference makes it look hilarious, actually. Making a big deal out of nothing. Dew can bark all he likes, but Aurum knows his bite can’t be worth shit. “I don’t know if you understand exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, Multi,” he snaps. “But the Ghost Project is an esteemed program. I’d take this a little more seriously, if I were you.”

Aurum scoffs, his glamoured nails digging into the meat of his palms. His body aches just on the wrong side of pleasant, and the adrenaline of the show hasn’t gone down yet. All things considered, he’s been itching for something like this since he woke up Topside. “Well, Dewdrop,” he leans down, letting the gold burn through the dark brown of his human irises. He flashes his teeth in a sneer. “I’m not you, thank the Sisters. I think I’m taking this just as seriously as I need to.”

He can feel the others’ eyes on him. Knows he’s pushing buttons just for the sake of a release. Aether’s glare in particular is sharp, knows the little fire ghoul in front of him is the quint’s mate.

Dew doesn’t back down. If anything, he just gets further into Aurum’s face, nose crinkling as he scowls. “What a disgrace of a ghoul.” He raises an eyebrow, gaze digging into him. Appraising and coming up short. “You are here to spread the Infernal Majesty’s word. To sway the humans to Him. He deserves a better messenger than you.”

Aurum laughs, full chested, like Dew’s just said the funniest joke anyone’s ever heard. This, to his delight, makes Dew recoil. He feels sick. “You really think I care about the fucking Prince? He couldn’t give a shit about me, so it’s only fair I return the favor.”

Dew splutters. “He made us. He cares.”

He lets his eyes drag down Dew’s body, flicking back up to where his face is rapidly reddening. The rest of the band doesn’t exist right now. It’s just the two of them, and fuck, is it fun to press his buttons. “You keep telling yourself that. He sure does care. That’s why He hurts us and turns His back when we ask for Him. You should know better than most, huh, Dew? Funny name for a fire ghoul, don’tcha think?”

Someone growls. Aurum barely hears it.

Dew’s eyes go wide before they narrow, and he steps closer into Aurum’s space. “Oh, fuck you, Multi,” Dew spits. He’s close enough that he can feel the acrid steam rolling from his mouth as he speaks. “If your worthless ass hadn’t been summoned, maybe it wouldn’t be so funny a name.”

Aurum rolls his eyes. This just seems to piss Dew off more.

“You inconsiderate fucking piece of shit,” he snaps.

The world goes red the moment the word slips from Dew’s lips.

Aurum lashes out, big hands finding Dew’s shoulders. He shoves him back so hard that Dew stumbles, falling on his ass with a shout, just barely catching himself with his hands. Wide eyes stare up at him, stunned into silence. Rain physically recoils. Cirrus hisses. A moment of tense, suffocating quiet waiting for the shoe to drop.

Yelling breaks out, so many voices that Aurum can’t pick out the individual words.

He barely has a moment to realize what he’s done before there are hands on him. Aether moves with surprising speed for a ghoul his size, growling so loudly it sounds like a roar.

Aether shoves him against the cinderblock wall behind him with a loud thud. Aurum barely feels it. “Keep your fucking hands off of him,” Aether snarls, pressed so close that Aurum’s eyes cross as he tries to look at him.

“Or what?” he laughs. He doesn’t stop laughing, even as Aether’s hand grabs the column of his throat, grinding the back of his skull into the wall. Even as instinctual fear jolts down his spine, he keeps laughing, grinning manically. He almost wants to spit in Aether’s face just to see what his reaction would be.

Aether’s grip tightens, losing his glamour so the points of his claws dig into his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“You’re holding back,” Aurum taunts. “Come on, big guy. I know you can do it.”

“I should,” Aether spits. “This is your own fucking fault.”

He cocks his head, even as he winces when Aether’s claws press at his jugular. Wonders what it’ll feel like when they actually make purchase. “Aw, really? What did I do?”

“Son of a bitch,” Aether says, but then Mountain’s pulling hard at his arm, yanking him away from Aether. He just barely has time to take a breath before he realizes Mountain isn’t trying to save him.

He towers over him, the same way he had to Dew. Mountain’s eyes almost glow emerald, and Aurum doesn’t stop grinning. “There has never been need for a multighoul in the Project,” Mountain says, matter-of-fact. His voice wavers with barely held back rage. “We could send you back just the same as the humans.”

“Then why won’t you do it?” Aurum asks. He knows he’s digging himself into a hole, but he doesn’t remember the last time he felt this alive outside of the Ritual. “Come on, did I get summoned to join a pack of cowards? I’m not fighting back. Have fucking at it.”

Mountain growls, low and dangerous like a rockslide. His claws dig into Aurum’s biceps, piercing his shirtsleeves and breaking skin. The iron scent of blood fills his nose, and a dark little voice at the back of his mind hopes the entire pack breaks into a frenzy over it.

He laughs, eyes gleaming. “It’s not going to be me, Multi. He should get to do it,” he rumbles, crossing his arms as he towers over them. “Him and Dew.” Instead, Mountain shoves him back to Aether.

Aether shoves his sweaty shirtsleeves up past thick forearms, the silver of his jewelry glinting in the harsh fluorescents. “I am going to make you fucking regret ever looking at that portal,” Aether says matter of fact, sparks of quintessence jumping from his unglamoured claws. A strong hand closes around his throat. Aurum wheezes sharply as his eyes bug out.

He pulls his hand back to rake down his body and gut him like a fish when the door slams open. Every single ghoul freezes.

“What the fuck have I walked into?” The Cardinal snaps, white Eye raking over the carnage. “I want an explanation. Right now.”

Aether doesn’t look away from Aurum, still glaring daggers into him like he could eviscerate him just like that. “He put his hands on my mate. I am acting accordingly.”

Aurum doesn’t say anything. Chest heaving as Aether lets go, the rough wall still digging into his back through his sweat-soaked shirt. Does not defend himself.

“Is that true, my ghoul?” The Cardinal snaps, wheeling to face Aurum.

The tone makes something shatter in Aurum’s chest, and he wheezes as he tries to answer before he loses himself entirely. His vision unfocuses. His fingertips go numb. It’s too late. It’s not like he was going to defend himself anyways.

Aurum’s startled out of his haze by a hand clapping down on his shoulder. He yelps like a kit caught in the preserves jar. The Cardinal hauls him out of the green room, leading him into the hallway.

There’s still roadies and staff moving about, teardown beginning to really pick up, but the Cardinal ignores them all. Distantly, Aurum thinks about how different he is from the man he’d met in that office. His hands shake. Does not let his mind go to that closed off door at the very core of himself.

The Cardinal huffs, shoves open a door and flicks on the lights. It’s an unused dressing room, by the looks of it, and he hauls Aurum into it and slams the door behind them.

If he were unglamoured, his ears would be pinned back tight to the point of pain, tail curled around his calf or lashing nervously behind him. But for what it’s worth, in this makeshift human skin, all he can do is hold his arms behind himself, a woman’s voice echoing in the back of his mind long before the Cardinal starts to speak.

“Multi, we cannot afford behavior like this,” he says, the black suit clinging to his skin with sweat as he paces. “We made mistakes, yes, we all did. Myself included, eh heh. But that does not mean we can antagonize each other.”

Aurum’s lost, opens his mouth to speak but it’s like he left his voice back in the other room. Maybe that’s all he’s good at, starting problems. It’s been the case since he was a kit.

“Oh, Multi,” the Cardinal says, voice taking a much different tone, and the pity Aurum finds there makes him bristle, retreat even further into his own mind. “Multi, you don’t have to answer, but I just want you to listen, si?”

It’s all he can do to make himself nod.

“I don’t know what your life was like before all of this. You do not have to tell, of course, only if you want,” the Cardinal begins to babble, but cuts himself off. “What I am saying is. We have to work together. We have to, or this whole thing falls apart around us, no? The Clergy would have our heads. I, frankly, do not care for the anger the three of them all have towards you. Nor the anger you clearly have for them. But I am responsible for you and your lot, and your mistakes don’t just reflect poorly onto you, no? They are my responsibility. And I cannot handle looking bad. The Project is shaky enough as is, I cannot afford any more scrutiny. The Sister Imperator would have my head on a platter.”

Aurum opens his mouth to protest, but the words still don’t come. They wouldn’t be true anyways.

“I hope we all can find a way to work through this, Multi. For my sake, your sake, and the entire band’s sake. I just. I do not understand.”

“I- I don’t know, Cardinal,” Aurum’s voice returns to him then. “I just- I don’t-”

The Cardinal sighs, squeezes his eyes shut. He’s close enough that Aurum can see where his paint’s smudging around the edges and creases, skin shiny with sweat. “You don’t have to have an answer now,” he says, and he sounds just as tired as Aurum feels. “But I want you to apologize. I will be talking to the rest of them later. Just. Please, Multi. We all need you, just as you need us. Please.”

Aurum cringes hard, all of that shame and anger and something that hurts too much to name swirling inside of him. “Yes, Cardinal,” he breathes. His eyes sting. “I’m sorry.”

The Cardinal sets a gloved hand on his shoulder. “We will work on it, yes?”

Aurum nods. It’s all he has energy to do.

“Come, let us get changed. We have a hotel tonight, A fresh start in the morning.”

Aurum nods and follows the Cardinal back to the others.

Unsurprisingly, his fellow ghouls give him as wide a berth as they can muster in the tight quarters. He doesn’t mind, nor does he blame them. He deserves it.

The ride to the hotel is a blur, even though Aurum can feel eyes on him the entire way there. He blinks slowly as the Cardinal presses a keycard into his hand. Distantly, vaguely, he realizes it matches Rain’s.

Aurum sighs softly, makes the trudge down the hallway to their room. It’s just as impersonal as his room back at the Ministry, two beds, a desk and chair, curtains drawn tight, and it’s a comfort and a relief. Rain follows him in, but doesn’t set his bag down.

“I- uh- Multi,” he says, quiet and aloof and bristling. Aurum shuts his eyes for a second before turning to face Rain.

“Yeah?” he says. His own voice sounds like he’s been gargling nails. He winces at the thought of having to sing again tomorrow.

“I talked to Mountain, while you were with Copia,” he says. He can’t quite seem to make eye contact. “I was going to go bunk with him tonight. Thought you might appreciate a little alone time.”

There’s enough truth to it that Aurum can’t call him out for lying. But he can read between the lines on this one. Remembers the way Rain had recoiled when he’d put his hands on Dew. “Thanks,” he says, struggling to shape his mouth around the words. “I- uh- Have a good night?”

Rain gives him a little smile. There’s something sad and distant in his eyes, even through the human glamour. “You too, Multi. Try and get some sleep?”

“I will,” he says. Rain slinks out the door.

The moment the door latches, Aurum’s knees threaten to give out. He sits heavily on the edge of one of the queen beds, bag forgotten. The air conditioning hums like tinnitus in his ears.

He buries his face in his hands and does something he hasn’t done since he was a kit.

Aurum cries.

#it gets softer from here i promise. time to go on your healing arc buddy boy #aurum's got a long way to go yet. but he's getting there. nowhere to go but up #but hey the era four gang's finally all here!!#i have so much to say about this chapter #there is no such thing as a perfect victim and everyone here is a victim. no one escaped the era 3-era 4 transition unscathed.#they can act on their worst trauma responses and while it doesn't make them Bad it still makes them asses #omega was a lot of fun to write. took heavy inspiration from my favorite character in the control video game. i think iykyk #copia was fun to write too. he's been a character i've avoided writing for a while because I was nervous about not getting him right #leaving many many tidbits for my own personal ghoul lore that may or may not be expanded upon later #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #dot's writing #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #omega ghoul #cardinal copia #cumulus ghoulette #rain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #nameless ghouls #and a very special sibling of sin oc i may expand upon later in honor of my sweet girl <3 #cw dissociation

27 notes · View notes