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《Embers of Longing》

[Genshin Diluc, Fluff Drabbles]

Pairing: Diluc x Gn!reader

Note: Image(s) is not mine and credit goes to its original owner.

Summary: Diluc seeks solace in the imaginary embrace of y/n, the one person who can unravel his stoic exterior.

The darkened room in Dawn Winery was illuminated only by the soft glow of flickering candlelight. Diluc, usually stoic and reserved, found himself seeking solace in the comforting embrace of a y/n body pillow. The flames of his vision may have been extinguished, but the embers of longing still burned within him.

As he held the pillow close, he imagined the gentle touch and soothing voice of y/n, the one person who could break through the walls he had built around his heart. In the quiet of the night, Diluc found solace in the illusion, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability that only the softness of the pillow could provide.

For a fleeting moment, the weight of responsibilities lifted, and in the warmth of the imaginary embrace, Diluc allowed himself to feel the connection he so desperately craved.

THEY WAKE UP FROM A WET DREAM — GENSHIN IMPACT

feat : diluc, childe, itto, kazuha + xiao

ღ warnings — f!reader, somnophilia (off screen consent given), thigh jobs, you wake up, pussy jobs, pussy eating, dry humping.

ღ note — this idea literally came to me while i was showering and i had to jump out to write it down sob but these read kinda rushed so m sorry i hope u guys enjoy anyway >~<

・✶ ｡ﾟ DILUC RAGNVINDR

diluc couldn’t help that you were the only thing on his mind most of the time, even when he’s hazy and drowsy with the remnants of sleep he can’t deny the the way his cock twitches in his boxers. even in his dreams you look so pretty beneath him and when he feels your skin graze against his own when he rolls over, he can’t resist his sudden craving when he wakes with a groan.

“how am i supposed to resist.” diluc groans, his fingers gentle when they smooth underneath the fabric of your shirt to pull you closer to his chest — he could still move you so easily, even when your body was thick with sleep, you were always so pliant for him. so he pulls you close, close enough for him to be able to roll his hips into yours—just enough for his clothed cock to graze along the dips and curves of your skin until he’s biting back a growl and burying himself in the crook of your neck. the way diluc is moving against you is almost mindless, rocking you back and forth along the length of him and the front of his boxers are already damp, stained with precum and if he wasn’t so lost in pleasure he’d be embarrassed at how little composure he has when it comes to you. but then you swirl your hips lewdly, turning to him with drowsy eyes and he feels like he can barely think—the humiliation of being caught rutting into you like a dog only making the coil in his stomach twist tighter and he squeezes your hips, grunting when a mewl falls from your lips as you rock yourself back and forth along the intense, sensitive nerves of his cock. “you’re intoxicating, sweetheart. i’m s-sorry for disturbing you—g-god.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ TARTAGLIA / CHILDE

maybe it’s the dreamy sounds you make when you’re lying next to him that had his mind drifting to you, even when sleep is thick in his bones he can hear your sweet whines—feel the way your fingertips would curl in his hair and pull when he drinks in everything you give him, so when he wakes up he can’t help but have an insatiable thirst.

your limbs are heavy when childe shifts your thigh over his shoulder, you’re still lost in sleep but he almost growls when he dips his tongue past your folds—still finding you wet when he cuts up past the clit to circle the bud before pulling away with a pop. “you’re no better than me, sweet girl.” he groans, lips curling with a soft delight before he’s dipping his head towards you once more, a dreamy laugh falling over your glistening pussy before he’s sliding his tongue around your lips feverishly, drinking in everything you give him as he curls it against your clit—sucking and flicking at the bud until you’re wet enough for him to push two fingers inside of you without much resistance. maybe that’s what wakes you, your fingers immediately finding their place to twist in childe’s hair and it only spurs on his movements, lewdly slurping and smacking at the slick his fingers push back out with every twist of his wrist and he feels dizzy—with how his hips are instinctively moving and rutting against the mattress, taking in any sort of friction he can get against his leaking, sensitive cock as he loses himself in you.

・✶ ｡ﾟARATAKI ITTO

itto was insatiable at the best of times, even in his dreams he could still feel the way your walls would twitch around his cock—remembering the stretch of your pussy, squeezing tighter for every inch he sinks in and it makes him dizzy when he wakes up in a sweat, feeling the throb of his thick cock behind the fabric of his boxers, it’s only made him greedy for the real thing.

itto’s lips part to groan when he finally sinks into you, ragged and hungry and the ache that was throbbing through his fat cock finally eases when your walls squeeze around him. even in your sleep your thighs still twitch when he pushes into you, filling you up so well—he doesn’t even need to try to graze past your sweet spots because the thickness of his heavy cock made it so easy. his hands squeeze at your hips, panting and hungry as his huge body leans over you while he tries to bury his needy whines into your skin, but you’re walls are flexing around him the deeper he goes and he’s nibbling along your jawline until he’s bottoming out with a hiss. “damn, baby. what the hell are you doing to me.” his eyes are hazy, still dark with lust when itto pulls his hips back to begin a steady but heavy pace, the needy hug of your walls rewarding each crushing thrust with a twitch around his cock that has him moaning lowly, loud squelching noises growing louder as a faint moan leaves your lips—but he’s too lost in you to notice. “itto?” you gasp, the force of his hips picking up at the sound of your voice until it’s a little faster, rougher and you’re extra sensitive with sleep. “y-yeah, babe? did you sleep good—fuck!”

・✶ ｡ﾟKAEDEHARA KAZUHA

maybe it was the way you melted into him while he slept that had him mindless, drowsy and needy—his mind felt full with thoughts of your glistening folds, the feeling of your slick and the way it always made his cock glisten whenever he would draw his hips back, but now his brain won’t let him sleep until he sees it again, his eyes fluttering open when a low whine falls from his lips and he’s wrapped in you.

your pussy feels like honey when kazuha allows his cock to graze along your slick folds, he’s messily pulled your thin panties to the side—dipping over your body to bury his face into the crook of your neck while he ruts helplessly against you. you feel so warm and he earns a soft sigh from your pliant body when the head of his pretty cock catches under the hood of your clit, the feeling of your thighs twitching against his palm making him whine as he inhales the familiar, sweet scent of you. “i’ll n-never get enough of you.” kazuha whispers, rolling his hips back into yours and he gasps softly when his cock catches on your hole—teasing him with your warm walls, the way they flex and squeeze around the sensitive veins when he would first sink in and he feels dizzy, breathless almost at the memory. but he was fine with this right now, he’d much rather control himself for when you wake up—so he can see the pretty expressions your face makes as you grab at him, so when he feels you shuffle underneath him with a grumble, he grunts because that might just be sooner than he thought.

・✶ ｡ﾟXIAO

xiao can almost feel it, almost. the needy push and pull of your pussy, the way your nails feel when they’re scratching lines along his skin and the dizzy spin in his mind when your walls twitch around him. so maybe it’s the way your thigh accidentally graze along his sensitive shaft while you sleep that pulls him back—makes him snap awake from his lewd dream of you, back to reality with a thin sheen of sweat along his skin and precum gathering at the head of his hard cock.

xiao squeezes his eyes closed when he rolls his hips forward, his skin feels sticky and he’s still hazy with sleep but when he feels your thighs instinctively squeeze around his cock—where it’s nestled between your skin, he still needs to bite back a pleasured hiss, burying it in your skin as he presses kiss along the dip of your shoulder. he just didn’t want to wake you, not for his own selfish reasons but the throb in his abdomen wasn’t something he could easily ignore, so now his fingers are gripping almost painfully at your hips and he’s rutting into the space between your thighs, needy whimpers falling from his lips everytime he pulls back—precum coating your skin with every thrust, the mess between your thighs only making the back and forth of his cock even smoother. “you make me s-so weak.” xiao hisses, pressing his chest closer against your back and he feels himself grow warmer when he suddenly feels your hand rest over his—a groggy, barely audible sigh of his name falling from your lips that makes his pace stutter, but you push back into him and he can’t find it in himself to stop, your thighs like silk around him. “i—i didn’t mean to wake you, ugh—i couldn’t s-stop.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

「 botany for dummies 」

TIGHNARI wishes once in a while, and once in a while only, that his ears weren’t so obvious. 

the way they perk up at your name, twitch at the sign of your arrival and droop ever so slightly at your departure; tighnari feels uncomfortable. the movements are subtle, barely noticeable even by those closest to him, but they occur beyond his control nonetheless. as a researcher, though he disregards akademiya laws left and right, he believes this goes against his own code of conduct.

even if you are an old friend from sumeru akademiya who he had horrifically repressed feelings for. your refusal to leave him alone is like adding crushed harra fruit to a wound. it’s impossible to have peace of mind with you around.

you help him with the marana despite the rangers’ protests, you pick mushrooms for him to discern as sick or healthy, you bring him lotuses even if he never asked you to. to be honest, he’s flattered you remember his fondness of them. he could get used to this, he thinks to himself often on sunny mornings when you greet him grinning ear to ear. but parting is only inevitable in the flow of life. it’s hard to believe you’ll stay forever in sumeru, by his side in gandharva ville.

tighnari hates you especially when he’s sick. you don’t leave his side, stare at him longer than he can handle, and archons, you don’t need to touch his skin to map his temperature. he doesn’t need taking care of—and he’s not pretending to be strong, he just knows everything to make himself better. you don’t have to go out of your way; it’s incredibly stupid and time-consuming. even if the rainstorms worsen his sleep, even if the heat of day gets under his skin; why would he ever ask you to do anything for him? it feels strange to be taken care of.

tighnari gets up from his bed, still reeling from the sound of thunder. he clutches his head, a part of his senses dulling and heightening from the ringing. his ears bring certain curses. 

“whoa there! who told you to get out of bed?”

ah, yes, of course. another curse for his ears had to materialize in front of him. you sit across from him and cross your arms, glaring at him till he sits back down too. it’s good to know the little quirks of your body language haven’t changed since your akademiya days.

“you… you really don’t have to.” he frowns. “this isn’t your job.”

“i know, i know.” you hum, a smile sneaking onto your face. “but it’s time i repaid you for giving me free medicine and… hm, let’s see. lending me your notes, that one time you cured me after i ate a suspicious mushroom and- and letting me tuck my hands into your tail when it was cold, allowing me to pet your ears-”

he coughs loudly, his discontent clear. “you can stop talking once in a while, (name). it’ll benefit everyone around.”

you roll your eyes. “if i didn’t open my big mouth, you would’ve never realized you’re sick. you can thank me now, pighead.”

tighnari makes a face. “you’re also the reason i ingested a poisonous mushroom.”

“that’s unimportant.”

he shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“here,” you say, shuffling through your backpack. “nilotpala lotuses. i was right about your diagnosis!”

“you don’t know that,” he quips. “these lotuses can be used as medicine against a variety of ailments.”

“but these work, don’t they?” your eyes widen, brimming with genuine concern.

“yes.” he responds far too quickly. he can’t help it. “you have to soak them first and then extract the nectar under a presser- not now, (name).”

you sit back down, pouting. “but you need to get better! as fast as you can, tighnari. i don’t like seeing you like this…”

tighnari sighs, eyes closing. “i will. it’s not like one mushroom will have me coughing up blood… at least not this one.”

you bite down your lip and tighnari can’t help but tilt his head to the side, trying to decipher your whole expression.

“tighnari,” you speak up, not looking at him. “we’re friends, right?”

“yes. obviously. do you need official documents stating our friendship?”

tighnari expects a bit of snark from you right back—instead, he is met with your sudden embrace, your breath warming the spot by his neck.

“why did you have to eat the mushroom on my behalf?” you whisper. “i made that bet with the eremites, you know? it was stupid tavern talk.”

it’s not the worst thing you’ve done drunk. however, tighnari steps in each time with no questions asked. he realizes once again how obvious his feelings are and how restrained he is, unable to tell you just so. you’re too dense to understand the language of flowers, so even a gift of a sumeru rose would pass over your head. you’re quite literally the worst person to fall in love with.

tighnari believes time settles everything. then why does he feel so impatient with your actions?

“why did you make that bet, stupid?” he answers, his arms wrapping around you nonetheless. 

“well… you know how i’m saving up?”

there’s a pause. are you hesitating?

“i want to… i want to travel.”

tighnari falls silent. he knows you cannot forever be his partner, journeying through the rainforests and surveying nature’s infinite wonders. you’ve expressed a longing for something else. he cannot deny it.

“do you want to leave?” he asks quietly. “i know being a researcher isn’t rewarding enough and… it’s hard to quantify knowledge. but…”

he trails off. there’s a spark of sorrow in his voice.

“i want to see more of the world,” you answer softly. your smile against his shoulder makes his face warm up. it’s not often the head of the forest rangers gets to feel this way. “but i don’t think i want to do it without you.”

his ears twitch before perking up. if you weren’t as observant as a shroomboar, you might have noticed. 

“well then, you need to change your habits. don’t go around making bets, or diving onto a mushroom to jump higher, or touching and eating whatever plant you find,” he scolds. “i can tell you which plants are edible. i can teach you how to set up camp. you must listen to every instruction.”

“tighnari?”

“i’m saying, when the forest is healed, we can set out by ourselves.”

the last drop of rain patters outside his door. who knew the cure to a mildly poisonous mushroom would be the embrace of a loved one? perhaps those foreign fairytales you read to him had some meaning to them after all. perhaps the two of you would get to know soon.

(no, alright. that’s not true. he needs those nilotpala lotuses right now before he faints from overheating.)

Hi! This is not a request or anything, I was just wondering what are your thoughts on Alhaitham and long distance relationships? Would he be the type to break it off before parting (because his logical brain says that's the best option so that things end amicably)? Or do you think he'd want to keep the relationship going (because he'd rather yearn than mourn the relationship)? 👀

In it for the long run

Scenario: Alhaitham and long-distance relationships wc: 1.6k tags: slight angst, fluff, underlying miscommunication, alhaitham is whipped a/n: I KNOW THIS ISN'T A REQUEST BUT I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG I WAS BUSY WITH LIFE ;-; okay! kind of a weird formatting but tiny drabble at the front and original bullet point hc version at the back! not proofread and kind of rushed but yay!! xin is back and writing alhaitham!! now if only she could write gojo

Break it off?

The words that spill out of your lips almost make him drop his book. He stares at you, ears ringing, eyes focused on your lips as—fuck—you mouth those words again.

You were serious, weren't you?

Heart pounding in his chest, mind hazy with confusion and hurt, all that repeats in the forefront of his mind is a steady stream of why, why, why?

Alhaitham knows he's not the most affectionate boyfriend there is, and the gods only know how much you deserve better than him, but he was under the assumption that he's been doing a good job navigating a relationship with you.

You and he had your ups and downs as all couples do, but open communication had always been an integral part of your relationship. You hadn't shown any sign that you wanted out.

What happened? What changed?

Was this his fault? He knows that becoming the Acting Grand Sage had given him a lot more trouble than he had anticipated, but had he driven you away?

He closes his book, setting it aside. When Alhaitham manages to find his voice, it comes out raspier than usual.

"...Where is this coming from?"

You scratch at your wrist, a nervous tic. He stares at your reddening skin as if it'll give him an answer. It's better than letting himself get caught up in his own mind.

"I just," you stumble, and he pushes away his inner voice that details the hundred and one reasons why he doesn't deserve you. Why it's obvious that you wanted to leave. "It'll be easier on us if we do."

He frowns. There's a you-shaped hole in his chest where you lived, decorated with all the knick-knacks you love. It's sealed in. Cemented, even.

You've long since invaded his life and his mind. A permanent fixture. Easier? "For whom?"

"Huh?"

"What makes you think that separating"—and Archons does that word puts a bad taste in his mouth—"makes things 'easier'? Whatever that even means."

Was this about your research?

"Who put this ridiculous notion in your head?" He asks, chest constricting with an emotion he can't really discern.

"I... did?" you answer him hesitantly. "I don't want to either, but it's just— it'll be rough, Haitham. You'd be in Sumeru and I'd be in Inazuma-"

"It's not that far from here." He lies. It takes a week to get there.

"-and," you ignore his interjection. "You hate stuff that's complicated. A long-distance relationship will be complicated."

You don't elaborate, but Alhaitham knows the implications. He's heard all the horror stories from his time in the Akademiya.

"So... yeah."

Alhaitham stares at you. For once, he doesn't know what to say. Something churns and claws around in the pits of his stomach, and he painfully swallows down the lump in his throat.

"You know that it's for the best," you mutter, voice impossibly tiny. If not for the silence of the room, he would have missed what you said. But it's terribly quiet, and amidst the silence, Alhaitham can hear his own heart crack around the edges.

"No."

He doesn't say it much, but he thought you knew he'd follow you to the ends of the earth if it came down to it. Going long-distance wasn't the end of the world, but losing you? That'd be it for him.

Your head snaps up, eyes wide like you hadn't expected to hear that fall from his lips so decidedly. "What?"

"No." He repeats, biting the inside of his cheek as he glares at you. You didn't get to make this decision without him. Did you really think of him that badly? That he'd leave upon the slightest hiccup?

"Absolutely not. No. No."

"Why?" You ask, grasping for a reason to hold on.

"Because..."

There's a lot of things he could say.

Like that you're the love of his life. The only person he's ever imagined a future with.

He could tell you that he's loved you from the moment you walked through the doors of the Akademiya, from the very second you had looked his way. That he loved you then, and just didn't know it yet. That he loves you now, and will forever.

You've invaded every aspect of his life and made it yours even before he understood what love was. The fruit you love but he hates is always refilled, packed neatly in the fridge. The jackets that you wear are always tossed over the arm of the couch. Next to his collection of coffee beans is your collection of teas.

The memory foam in his room remembers your shape. The pillow you steal from him is bathed in the smell of your shampoo. The sheets that tangle between the both of you when you sleep is soaked in your warmth.

Everything he sees, everything he does, everything he feels... he associates it with you.

There was no before, no after. Only the present and the future.

He could tell you this. In fact, he should be telling you this. God knows how he doesn't say it enough. But you're teary, and you look like you're about to leave, and Alhaitham can't lose you.

"Why, Haitham?"

Because you love him and he loves you. Wasn't that enough?

You having to go away for a year, even a little bit more than that, was nothing in the grand scheme of things. He'd wait for you, even if the sky fell.

"Why?" He repeats, almost letting out a baffled laugh because how were you so smart, so adorable, and yet, still not see?

Why? Because your relationship was stronger than whatever momentary flings the Akademiya scholars were having. Why? Because you and he had built this relationship. Started it from the ground up. Paved a way even against everyone's expectations. And if you were doing this out of consideration of him, you didn't have to.

"Because I'd do anything for you. Even if it means to wait."

Besides, no one said that he couldn't apply for leave.

Okay weird transition point but hi!!!!!!!! this was my original response until my brain said fuck it lets write

Alhaitham would NEVER

Look this man is LOGICAL. Do you know how illogical a relationship can get???

It's my understanding that he AGONISES over deciding to pursue you/not.

So when he finally does?

BET that he already has a 6-month, 2 year, 5 year, 10 year plan mapped out

Binder? No. It's in that big juicy brain of his.

He isn't the most organised okay

The only concrete thing that signaled him even having a plan were tiny post-its and scribbles on random pieces of paper

In fact the disorganisation makes it hard/impossible for you to know until he tells you about it

Anyway

Alhaitham dates you with the intention of marrying you someday.

With his decision to date you came his decision to accept everything you and life would throw at him (within reason)

When you first brought up the possibility of needing to go overseas for a semi-long period of time he didn't even think that breaking up was on the table

It was that outlandish.

So when you randomly spring it up on him one fine day?? You effectively shatter a part of his heart

The both of you have been through so much and you're worried your relationship wouldn't be able to handle the strain?

I mean it's a valid point

But Alhaitham thought you knew better than that.

He rather fight and try and make it last as long as he possibly could than give up without a fight

And he knows you're not doing this for your sake, but his! What's the point if he doesn't want it

Plus

What's stopping him from going to you?

Going to Mondstadt? He can just visit every now and then. It's not that far! Hell, he could live with you and just have his subordinates travel over to hand him any documents

Going to Liyue? Even easier. He can go to you every weekend. It's not that hard to get to Liyue from Sumeru!!

Going to Inazuma? Okay it's a little tougher but who says he can't just buy a waverider

Natlan? Fontaine? Snezhnaya? Fuck it! He'll move over with you!

It's not like he doesn't have paid and unpaid leave.

It's not like he isn't well-off, either. Please, he could always just rent out his properties and get passive income

I would argue that Alhaitham actually has a lot of investment schemes. The man is very financially stable (thats so hot of him)

Just give him a book or two, a peck here and there, and he'll be a happy happy guy

So going with you is definitely a feasible plan! Unless you don't want him to

So yeah! He wouldn't break it off. You'd be the one to suggest it and he'd be the one to strike it down.

Expect a debate where you lose.

And yes he would much rather yearn for you than mourn your loss.

Alhaitham has a lot of faith in himself and especially in you. He trusts you!!

Absence makes the heart grow fonder! He'll just write you tons and tons of letters until you return to him.

A letter for every day you're not with him, if you will. He'll label 'em and send them out a month before so you can slowly open them according to the days of the month

A bunch of inventions were made out of love! Wordle's creator made wordle for his wife, Halstead created surgical gloves for his wife!!

So what's stopping Alhaitham from making you the modern-day cellphone by using his knowledge of the akasha terminal?

Nothing. That's what.

Just let this man love okay

a/n: wow i feel so weird posting my writing again i do not like the jitters,, sorry for any mistakes too! wow its been some time since i've written

©shiinleaf Do not plagiarise, use, translate and/or share my content outside of Tumblr in any way, shape, or form. Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed!

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and cruel and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, dottore.

notes: this wasn't as long as i wanted for it to be but im just happy i got it out on time aufhdasuidfh i didn't think i'd be able to. i’m v sorry i haven’t answered asks yet! i promise i’ll get to it this weekend, i just got home

DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

“Hand the boy over.”

You recognized the men standing at the end of the hall now that they had come a bit closer—two nobles who had been down in the ballroom for the event. You didn’t know their first names but Artem had pointed them out as being part of the Skliar Family of western Snezhnaya, a family that was particularly anti-Fatui and loud about it… when the Fatui weren’t around, of course. They were the two younger sons of the family, a few years older than you.

Artem had been surprised that the family even showed up and you figured that they probably had ulterior motives…

… but this?

Your arms tightened a bit around the sleepy boy resting in them and he shifted a bit, stirring at the movement. He was observant, unfortunately, and seemed to realize very quickly from the tenseness in your shoulders that something was wrong. You wanted to tell him to go back to sleep but you couldn’t push out the words from your lips before he was shifting around.

When he glanced behind him to see what was happening, his whole body started trembling, red eyes widening at the sight of the two men. He didn’t cry or let out any fearful noises, it was a sort of petrified fear that made you wish you could hide him away until you figured out what to do and how to handle this.

You looked down briefly, past his face to where his legs were hanging on either side of your body, remembering how they were all cut up and bleeding to the point it was clearly painful for him to walk on them. You figured that maybe he was just clumsy and tripped running up or down a set of stairs but then you remembered how he had been hiding when you saw him, pressed into the shadows of an alcove. 

They’d been chasing him. 

“Oi, girl, did you hear me? Hand the boy over,” the shorter of the two demanded harshly, taking another step forward. 

You could see now from the shorter distance the anxiety that riddled his body. His fingers were trembling and his eyes were darting around as if monsters were going to sprout from the shadows and tear him to pieces.

They were bold for attacking the Fatui while in their most protected stronghold, if not a bit foolish—a part of you questioned whether or not they might be drunk, you had noticed some of the younger aristocrats guzzling down alcohol to try to make the night bearable enough to get through. You wondered if they knew that the Ninth Harbinger was naught but a few feet away from them behind the wall on their left. You might’ve commended them for their bravery were they not targeting a child. 

You smiled thinly. “No.”

“No?” The taller man asked, voice low.

He moved toward you—you wondered if he meant to be threatening but you didn’t see a vision on him, and even if there was one hidden somewhere, it was hard to feel threatened when you knew that the Regrator was lurking behind a door right to your side. He had to know what was happening, you could see a shadow right beneath the crack at the bottom of the door, signaling he was standing there listening to the confrontation and ready to step in, but you figured he wasn’t making himself known because he wanted to see how you handled this. 

A test. You hated tests. 

You figured you’d be able to handle it if it came down to a fight. Your father and grandfather had been quick to teach you how to immobilize grown men considering you’d be taking over your family’s position in a few years and would have to be able to drag them to the cells without them overpowering you. You would rather it not come to a fight though, your family’s hydro art was dangerous and very easy to butcher with.

“That is what I said,” you replied after a moment and then added: “If you are hard of hearing I can suggest you to a doctor, I’m sure he would be willing to take a look for you. Although, I do warn you, I’ve heard his methods are rather… unsavory.”

His methods—another subject that you had yet to broach with yourself even though you knew very well that you had to think about it. You had to force yourself to keep your chin raised as you stared at the two of them for their reactions; you had heard terrible, terrible things about the Doctor while you had traveled northward through Snezhnaya. Brutal experiments, missing children, twisted creatures and monsters that he lets free from his labs when he decides them to be a failure or drained of use. 

How was a man like that your soulmate?

You used to wonder, as a kid, what having a soulmate like your stepfather said about your mother. Now, you know that their bond wasn’t even real but yours was, and you were tied to one of the most dangerous and wicked and cold-hearted men in all of Teyvat. 

What did that say about you?

Were you a bad person? Maybe not yet, you didn’t think so at least, but maybe you had the potential of being one, if the gods thought you fit to be with him.

The taller man was livid at your implied threat of Dottore, livid and scared, reaching for something at his side—a dagger?—and you remembered then how Artem had made a comment about how many of the antagonistic families had lost people to the Fatui, particularly to the Doctor, the Friar and the Marionette. You tensed, ready to use your vision at a moment’s notice, feeling the energy seep through you as you summoned it to your defense but the man never came toward you. 

Instead, he was stopped by the shorter one.

“Hold on,” he said quietly. “That girl, she was with the Melnyks at the ball. Their heir introduced her as his fiancée.”

The taller man scoffed. “The Melnyks are so in bed with the Fatui that they’re willing to share their women now,” he spat, shooting you a look that was nothing short of derisive.

You inhaled sharply at the blatant insult. You had never been so directly disrespected like that before—in the courts of Fontaine, the nobles liked to keep their insults as passive and well-mannered as possible so that they could not be called out for making disparaging remarks about another noble family, which could cause severe financial or political trouble depending on what family had been slighted. 

You were a frequent victim to those veiled insults, dealing with underhanded comments about who the Black Cells would be passed to should your grandfather pass, implying that you were unfit to be the Warden. And then, even worse, the ones where people would make offhand observations about how maybe you would be the perfect fit for Warden considering you don’t have a soulmate, because in Fontaine, it is known that only the cursed and the heartless are not given their fated partner by Celestia. You thought that if they knew who your soulmate was, they would double down on their beliefs.

“I am not something to be shared,” you said, the thin smile on your lips now void of emotion, “and I am a lot more than just a girl who is someone’s fiancée. You will find that out soon enough if you continue to test me.”

Finally, the shorter man seemed to notice the vision laying against your chest, fashioned as a pendant on a necklace and he hesitated, glancing between you and the taller man once as if debating on warning him against acting rashly. 

Well, that at least confirmed that they did not have visions. 

You felt significantly more confident at the realization, letting your tense shoulders relax and your arms loosen around the little boy—feeling your change in demeanor, he also seemed to relax, his tight grip on your hair releasing as he laid his head back down against your shoulder. 

Did he really have that much trust in you?

But then, before the taller man could explode on you or the shorter man could warn him not to, their expressions shifted from anger and concern to downright fear—except they were not looking at you, they were looking directly behind you.

Before you could even turn to look, long and thin fingers wrapped around your shoulders, nails digging harshly into your skin—distantly, you thought for sure it would be bruised tomorrow but you were more anxious at the sudden new arrival and whether or not they were an ally or enemy. 

They leaned over your shoulder a bit and as you glanced to the side with wide eyes, you caught sight of another head of silvery-blue hair, cropped short like the boy in your arms. Red eyes gleamed cruelly from within the two holes of the black and white mask he wore, a hint of something unstable simmering right beneath the surface. 

“What a treat,” the man behind you said, voice lifting into a giggle that made your hair stand on end. “I had just run out of bodies to run my tests on.”

The storm was nigh. 

Dottore grimaced as the winds whipped around him wildly. Above him, the tall trees of the forest creaked and groaned, threatening to topple over beneath the harsh gusts. The sun had long set but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, sweeping across the forest floor as he followed the path from Zapolyanry Palace to the estate he owned in the area, making his way to the ruins that were just off the path.

They had yet to find the Iota segment. Dottore knew that he was still in the area of the ruins he was exploring, he could sense that much from the inherent tracking system he had for each of the segments but they hadn’t reached the ruins yet. He wondered how Epsilon hadn’t been able to find him if he was in the ruins, unless he had wandered off and then made his way back when he realized that the sun had set and a storm was coming but something didn’t sit right with him about that. 

Either way, it was making Dottore antsy. He didn’t like it. The last time he had lost a segment, it had been a situation just like this a little over four hundred years ago. He felt unsettled.

“You found her.”

Epsilon’s voice didn’t even edge on accusing as he watched Dottore carefully. 

He had his answer, he just wanted a confirmation. 

Dottore did not intend on giving him one. 

“I did not.”

Epsilon let out a small puff of amusement, nothing short of a gibe, eyeing Dottore from the corner of his eye—he was the only one of the older segments that didn’t wear a mask, the few times he did was when he was posing as Dottore in Harbinger meetings or on missions that he didn’t want to handle. He could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe a word Dottore said, if anything he thought entertaining that Dottore was trying to deny it and that only made him even more irritated.

“We all felt it,” Epsilon murmured. “The others might not have figured out exactly what it was but I did. I’m sure Lambda did too. I advise you to choose wisely as to whether or not you would prefer him or I at your side when dealing with her. We both know his desired course of action and he will do whatever’s necessary to ensure that our research is not impeded.”

“As he was created for,” Dottore said coolly, “and thus is expected of him.”

“Even at the cost of the life of your soulmate?” Epsilon questioned, studying him intensely for a reaction.

Your. That was an intentional choice of words. All of the other segments referred to you as their soulmate as well. It was never Dottore’s soulmate, it was our soulmate. Even Epsilon had appealed to him in the past by stressing that it was not just his decision as your existence affected all of them.

This was an attempt at manipulation—a carefully picked choice of word that would ignite all of the possessive and selfish tendencies that had been ingrained in Dottore ever since he was living on his own after his village case him out, hoarding anything and everything he could get his hands on, and then again, after he had enrolled in the Akademiya, dealing with people leeching onto his research to try to get credit.

What’s his was his and you, unfortunately, fell under that category as much as he might loathe to admit it. 

“I can handle Lambda.” Was all Dottore said in response to Epsilon’s comment, dismissing his warning.

Epsilon made a noise as if he didn’t quite believe Dottore. Dottore didn’t acknowledge it. They continued on in silence for a few moments, the wind howling around them as they crossed the path into the old ruins of a temple of the previous Cryo Archon—crumbling towers reached high into the sky, disappearing into the clouds, and a massive derelict statue that was teetering dangerously in the wind. The snow had started to fall, they were running out of time to find the Iota segment but Epsilon didn’t look the slightest bit worried and Dottore frowned a bit, suspicion itching at the back of his mind.

“You should at least allow the younger segments to meet her,” Epsilon finally continued, completely unperturbed by the threat the storm posed to one of the younger segments. “They will be dysfunctional when they realize they never got the chance to meet her and then you will have three useless segments to figure out what to do with.”

“None of the segments will know that she is here, much less meet her,” Dottore said sharply. “I have information that needs to be obtained from her and then she is going back to Fontaine where she will stay, are we clear?” 

“So you admit that she is here,” Epsilon smiled thinly, as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear, and Dottore gave him a cold look.

“Enough of your games, Epsilon. What is it that you are trying to achieve with this conversation?” 

Epsilon didn’t respond. Instead, his red gaze trailed from him to somewhere behind Dottore. A sinking feeling in his stomach, Dottore turned around to see what he was looking at. Instantly, his eyes fell upon a familiar young boy standing right behind a pillar, watching them with wide eyes and a hopeful expression. 

Iota. 

“She’s here?” he whispered as if Dottore had just proclaimed the coming of the Celestial gods unto Teyvat, and then, more excited, he lit up: “She’s here?!”

Dottore realized, very quickly, that he might’ve just been played for a fool by his own segments. Without responding to the Iota segment, Dottore looked to the right where Epsilon was still standing. Epsilon barely acknowledged Dottore as he stepped forward with a small smile and upturned eyes. 

“There you are,” he said. “We’ve been looking for you.”

He did not sound particularly relieved or frustrated—if anything, he sounded pleased. Dottore watched as he patted Iota on the head once and then turned to look at Dottore, with an expression that edged at nothing short of triumphant. 

He remembered how Gamma had looked so nervous, unable to meet his eyes—he had thought it was because he was anxious over losing two of the younger segments but he realized, quickly, that it might’ve been because he was anxious about having to lie to Dottore. 

Iota had been waiting for them at the ruins and Dottore knew the young segment well enough to know that unless given direct orders (sometimes even when given direct orders), the boy would panic and wander trying to find his way back until he got himself so lost that Dottore would have to shut him down until they could figure out where he was and bring him back. Someone must have told him not to move from the ruins until they arrived, and that someone…

Dottore stared at Epsilon, catching the sly look in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to Dottore. Had he planned this? Had he schemed out a situation to get Dottore alone long enough to force him to admit that you were in the palace in front of the Iota segment? Would he really go so far as to put one of the younger segments at risk to do so? 

Yes, Dottore realized, watching the unmoved expression on Epsilon’s face as he watched Dottore realize what had just happened—he absolutely would because he knew that it was the only thing that Dottore would take seriously enough to handle himself, otherwise he would have just sent Epsilon alone to handle whatever it was. 

More than that, Epsilon knew that with the incoming storm and a missing young segment that the situation would remind him of the one that happened all of those years ago with the Beta Segment and Dottore would be in an uncomfortable and agitated state of mind, more susceptible to snapping and admitting what Epsilon wanted him to say. 

Conniving little-

Dottore’s tongue scraped against his teeth as he bit back a slew of curses, rage sweeping over him like the white water torrents of a rushing river.

Gods be damned about the war and needing as many spare hands as possible for his research, Dottore had half a mind to deactivate all of the segments and start anew once you were gone so he didn’t have to deal with any more insubordination and disrespect from himself. 

Though he found that the thought of you being gone in any way sat poorly in his chest. Livid, he realized that you might’ve already managed to strengthen the bond just through the two conversations he had with you. 

Teeth grinding together, he forced himself to turn on his heel and make his way back to the palace before anything else could go wrong with your unexpected arrival in Snezhnaya. He would get his segments out of Zapolyarny Palace and drag them back to the estate, leaving you at the mercy of the Regrator until he could finish his briefings with the segments and send them all far, far from Snezhnaya. 

You distinctly felt like a mouse cornered by a cat, except instead of being the one hunted by the predator, you were watching another mouse about to get devoured, knowing that you would be next. It was with a sickening type of engrossment that had you unable to draw your eyes from the scene in front of you, fear crawled up your spine, seeping into your blood, but your feet were rooted to the ground below you.

The man—who you noticed also looked particularly like Dottore, except he was closer to your age—had slunk past you to approach the two men at the opposite end of the hall. A part of you wanted to put the boy down and run back to your room, locking the door to hide from the shitshow about to go down but he was clutching at you like some sort of lifeline, little fingers gripping the cloth on the back of your dress as he hid his face from view. And even if he wasn’t, you had a feeling that your feet wouldn’t cooperate if you tried.

“Kappa,” an unfamiliar voice whispered from somewhere behind you, urgent and worried.

Your gaze snapped to the side, eyes falling upon another kid with silver blue curls and red eyes, a terrible burn scar covering the whole left side of his face. He was young, no older than fifteen or sixteen, and there was an anxious expression on his face, brows furrowed and lips pressed together as his eyes darted around.

Another child of Dottore’s? It didn’t make any sense, did he have three children? Or was the older one his brother? Or were they experiments? Your head hurt and you were suddenly very, very tired—you needed to lay down. The night’s events were finally catching up to you and your body was beginning to lag, crying in protest as you continued to stand rooted in the middle of the hall. Your room was so close but it was not close enough, you would have to get past the masked man to reach the door and you had a feeling he would not take kindly to your attempted escape.

And what had the other boy called the little one? Kappa? Why was that so familiar? 

You let out a shaky breath, trying to think.

Kappa, that was so familiar… one of the words from the old tongue? The ones that Dottore used to accidentally pass over to you? 

But was that even possible? You would have to check your notebook but you were pretty sure that the first time you received the word Kappa was right around the time you had received your first word from him and that was what? Eight years ago? 

There was no way this child was older than five.

What was going on?

“You-” the taller man choked out as the new arrival drew closer. “You’re-”

“You’re bold for attacking little Kappa right under our noses,” he mused, a lilt to his tone that had you on edge. He reached forward, snatching the man’s chin between two fingers as he forcibly craned his head to the left—examining him like some sort of test subject. “I’ve been trying to get Hearsays up and running again but I just don’t have enough contenders after the last incident… I suppose you’ll do well. Hehe, you’ll at least make for good entertainment, one way or another.”

You watched as he dragged his nails down his cheeks, leaning a line of blood in his wake before he turned his attention to the shorter man with a look in his eyes that was nothing short of gleeful.

“You simply won't do.” He clicked his tongue a few times in disappointment, shaking his head in a sharp and jerky motion that looked borderline painful. “I’ll just pass you off to one of the others for them to run some tests on. I think Rho is starting a new batch of experiments soon, yeah? Isn’t he, Gamma? Gamma?”

He was suddenly agitated as he glanced backward, waiting for a response. The other new arrival—the younger one with anxious eyes and twitching fingers—looked caught off guard at being pulled into the conversation.

Finally, he nodded, throat spasming as he swallowed. “With the residue, yes. The last batch failed.”

“Perfect,” he smiled sharply, and though you could only see half of his smile, even beneath the dim lighting you could see the rows of sharp teeth lining his mouth. “He can get the scraps.”

“Kappa, are you okay?” Gamma returned his attention to the boy in your arms, trying to grab his arm to look at him but every time he tried, Kappa shifted away, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Kappa, c’mon, he’s going to be so mad, just talk to me.”

“He’s okay, for the most part,” you said quietly.

At the sound of your voice, Gamma drew back, red eyes guarded and nervous. He looked at you as if you were a possible enemy, shoulders tense and body language closed off. He looked to be reaching for something at his side—you wondered if he was armed but his fingers were trembling. Even so, you decided to try to calm him down, not wanting another agitated person to deal with.

“What does that mean?” he asked, glancing between you and Kappa as if you had been the one to hurt the boy.

“His knees are cut up and bleeding, I was going to bring him to my room to clean them up. He was having trouble walking on them,” you explained, keeping your voice steady as you watched him carefully, trying to figure out how you would defend yourself while holding a kid in your arm.

But it was for no need, Gamma looked a bit at ease at your words but he frowned as he reached to hold Kappa’s leg to check out the wound but Kappa whimpered and snapped his leg away, accidentally jamming his knee into your side. You bit back a grunt, wincing at the small bony knee digging into your side but only rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.

Maybe his legs were worse than you thought. Concerned, you glanced down and briefly wondered why he wasn’t voicing his pain if that was the case. 

“One to ten?” Gamma suddenly asked, holding up his hands to show Kappa. The boy pressed his cheek against your shoulder, watching Gamma as he lifted two fingers, then three, then four, then five. At eight, Kappa pointed and Gamma looked severely distressed. 

“He’s going to be so mad.” Gamma looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Kappa, how many times have we told you that you have to say something when you’re hurt?”

He turned his face away again, pressing it into the crook of your neck and Gamma looked around nervously. “Well… he seems to like you. Kappa doesn’t really like anyone so I mean…”

Gamma suddenly floundered for words as you raised your hand to pat Kappa’s back again, red eyes focusing righting on your pinky finger. 

For a moment, he just stood there, gaping and wide eyed but then his expression shifted as he glanced over to where the masked man was still mocking and terrorizing the two aristocrats from the Skliar family. 

In an instant, Gamma looked like he was going to throw up, face pale and ghastly and you could only stare at him, trying to figure out what had caused the abrupt change in demeanor. 

You had a distinct feeling that it had to do with the presence of the masked man and that made your stomach churn with nerves, eyes darting over to him.

“Oh gods, you’re-” he began, voice catching over his words as he stared at you, taking a step back as if he was on the verge of fleeing. Then, his gaze darted up to the masked man he had arrived with, who you could feel staring at you from halfway down the hall, and then back to you with an expression nothing short of horrified. “Oh gods, oh no, Theta is-I have to-I have to get the Doctor. I have to-I’ll be back.”

And then he was gone, turning on his heel and sprinting down the hall, leaving you alone with the little boy called Kappa and the masked man who you could hear drawing closer to you from behind.

You felt like a frozen deer, body tense and cold as you felt the front of his body brush against the back of yours. He reached over your shoulder, long fingers wrapping around your wrist as he lifted your hand up.

You glanced back, eyes catching his for just a moment, and your throat dried at the look in his eyes—wild and unpredictable with a sort of untamable glee that reminded you of the Hydro Archon when she finally took interest in one of the court’s trials. 

And when she took interest in a trial, only one sentence would be exacted onto the defendant: execution. 

His face twisted into an unsettling and chilling smile, teeth glittering like knives beneath the candles that lit up the hall.

“You’re her.”

“Is he mad at me?”

The Iota segment had been on the verge of a meltdown the entire walk back to the palace. They had finally made it out of the forest and were crossing the snowy span of land to the bridge that led to the wide gates of Zapolyanry Palace. The weather was even worse now that there were no trees to buffer—the wind whipped around him violently, howling and shrieking, snow pelting his face like little icicles yet it was not enough to drown out the sniffles and cries of Iota as he wrapped his fingers around the back of Dottore’s shirt, clinging to him desperately as he tried to keep up with the man’s long strides. 

“Of course not,” Epsilon soothed, ever the conciliator as he tried to calm Iota down so the boy didn’t delay them anymore than he already had. 

“He won’t even look at me,” Iota cried. At once, Dottore turned to look over his shoulder, eyes landing sharply on Iota from beneath his mask, lips twisted down into a deep frown. Iota let out a cry akin to a wounded animal. “That’s even worse, I mess everything up, I’m sorry.”

Dottore’s head hurt. He grimaced as the wind nearly dragged his hood right down, tightening the drawstrings of his cloak. Distantly, he noticed that Epsilon was picking up Iota and letting the boy latch onto him as he cried but he tried to ignore it. Iota would get over it in a few hours, he always did—he was sensitive and broke down easily but bounced back before the day was up, burying his attention in some book or paper until he totally forgot about whatever set him off. 

As soon as they got back to the palace, he’d have Epsilon bring the boy down to the basement so he could nestle away in the library down there and then he’d be good as new, bustling to Dottore’s lab to bother him trying to tell him about all that he had learned in his readings. 

Besides the destructive tendencies, Iota was easy to handle for the most part. He was quickly upset but that was a product of the mentality he was created in and the reason for his creation, which he wasn’t supposed to know but the Zeta segment decided to open his mouth about it in an attempt to drive Iota into a meltdown to disrupt Delta’s research so he could pull ahead on it.

The Iota segment was created so that Dottore could do research into the Aranara of Sumeru—unfortunately, Dottore did not realize that the events of the night he was cast out of the village made him unable to see the Aranara anymore, thus making the Iota segment a useless creation. Dottore had debated on just destroying the segment and using the spare parts to create a new one but Delta had convinced him against it, claiming that he would use the failed segment as a means to help with his research instead. Ever since Iota found out about that a few decades ago, he’d been even more unstable than he already was from the mindset he was created in. 

“Enough, Iota,” Dottore said icily. “Have your meltdown on your own time.” 

Epsilon clicked his tongue as Iota caught himself over a sob, pressing his face into the man’s skin as if to hide his tears from Dottore. Epsilon gave Dottore an accusing look, Dottore raised his chin—this is on you.

Epsilon smiled to himself and then looked away, proud.

Again, he reconsidered deactivation, this time far more intensely, and again, Dottore cursed you because all of the misfortune he had faced the past two decades was solely because of your existence.

You, with your irritating attitude and despicable personality, playing the soft-spoken angel to everybody but him. 

You, with your exhausting persistence, meeting him toe-to-toe and word-for-word in every confrontation and conversation he had with you. 

You, with that infuriatingly striking purple dress—low-cut and thin strapped—that he hadn’t been able to draw his eyes off of the whole night no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t help but wonder just how shameless Fontaine fashion was if that was what you wore to a formal event.

Purple. Nearly ten years and you were still obsessed with the same color. How were you so predictable and unpredictable at the same time? He couldn’t stand the thought of you, he hated unexpected, extraneous variables—the only course of action for dealing with them was removal or isolation and he was beginning to realize that neither of those solutions might be an option for him.

But it was just another hurdle for him to get over. If neither removal nor isolation were viable options, he would need to find a different solution. 

Holding it constant… 

No. That was not an option either—though the more he thought about it, the more tempting the option became. He had enjoyed that irritating attitude of yours and those biting comments that made his brain search for retaliation. He even more so enjoyed that taste of instability, which went against all of his ideals. Dottore was a man of careful calculations and obtaining expected results and yet somehow, when he found himself unable to predict your next words and actions, it left him excited. 

How could one hate the unexpected and yet enjoy it in the same hand? Unless it was not the unexpected, it was you bringing it to him. Dottore’s head throbbed, he felt like a pendulum, swinging back and forth and back and forth and back and forth as he tried to figure out how he felt in relation to you so he could decide upon the best course of action for dealing with you. 

How bothersome. Already, he could feel things shifting—something he had sworn he wouldn’t let happen.

Not for the first time, he felt absurdly jealous of his own segment; Epsilon, who could understand emotions far better than the rest of them ever would be able to and used it against them very often. He wondered if the man already knew what Dottore was feeling—if the smirk on his lips had anything to say about it, Dottore thought he probably did. 

What do you have planned? Dottore wanted to ask Epsilon because he knew that there was some underlying game going on that Dottore couldn’t place yet but he didn’t want to dive into that conversation while Iota was still on the brink of self-destruction, crying and sniffling and choking over his own sobs. 

Dottore thought he might trust Epsilon the least out of all of the segments. Unlike Lambda, whose goals and ambitions were as clear as crystal, Epsilon was an enigma, driven by emotions that the rest of them couldn’t understand. He liked to play games with them, push buttons that they didn’t even know that they had, and your presence in Zapolyanry Palace was a large, bright red one that Dottore just couldn’t seem to destroy.

So long as you were around, Dottore would be at the mercy of Epsilon’s unwelcome schemes and he had a distinct feeling that Epsilon would be playing at trying to make the bond between the two of you stronger. He would have to work to counter it without even knowing the game.

Bothersome. This was all bothersome. Dottore hated games. He hated dealing with his segments. He hated being vulnerable. He hated all of this. 

All of it? Dottore pushed away the treacherous thought furiously. 

“Is that-” Epsilon began but abruptly cut himself off as he moved forward to walk at Dottore’s side, peering ahead carefully through the wicked storm.

Following his gaze, Dottore looked out across the bridge leading to the palace to see a small figure sprinting in their direction—no cloak or covering, only wearing a thin outfit to shield against the sheer cold of the bitter winter storm.

“Gamma,” Dottore murmured in agreement. 

He could feel the anxiety rippling from the boy in waves—anxiety and fear. It didn’t take much to push Gamma into a panic attack but this was different. Dottore could feel it. It wasn’t like the usual ones he experienced. Brows furrowing, he watched as Gamma approached them, eyes wild and cheeks bright red. 

Instantly, Dottore felt uncomfortable, realizing something was very, very wrong. 

“Theta is with her,” Gamma wheezed, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. He seemed as if he had been crying—a cold feeling, unrelated to the wind and snow around them, settled over him, sinking into his stomach. “You have to get him, he’ll hurt her, he’s in one of his moods. You know what he’s like when he’s in one of them. He’s dangerous and violent. You have to do something.”

“Who is he with?” Dottore asked slowly.

He stared down at Gamma as he waited for a response but deep down, he very much already knew who Theta was with and an old and unwelcome emotion spread throughout him, freezing his bones and blood, weighing on his chest like stones. An emotion that he had long learned to suppress, one that he hadn’t experienced since his days at the Akademiya when they had him placed on trial—he could barely recognize it, it was hard for him to put a name to it until Gamma opened his mouth again. 

“Her,” Gamma gasped. “Our soulmate.”

Fear. The emotion was fear. 

rbs appreciated!!

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, theta hurts reader but only a little, this was not edited sorry for mistakes 😭

notes: alrighty guys, this is officially the last chapter of the regular schedule—after this one, updates are going to be sporadic but they will at the very least be monthly. wish i could keep up the schedule but its not going to be feasible considering i start law school this upcoming wednesday </3 i'll update the masterlist to reflect the change too

SPIT IN MY FACE

“Excuse me?”

The masked man—had Gamma called him Theta?—kept a tight grip on your wrist, holding it up in front of you so he could look at it himself. He was stronger than he looked, you tried to rip your wrist out of his hold but failed. His nails dug into your skin in response to the attempt, drawing blood. You grimaced as you watched a thin line of red seep down your forearm. 

“You heard me.” Theta’s smile didn’t budge as his other hand came up to grab your chin, turning your head away from where Kappa was still buried in the crook of your neck to face him. “Was he trying to keep you hidden away or were you trying to hide from us?”

He wasn’t looking at your hand. He was looking at your finger or more specifically… where your thread was hanging from it, leading off somewhere to the left of you wherever Dottore was. You remembered how Kappa had looked down at your hand curiously before deciding to come over to you, the way he was so at ease with you for no reason. And Gamma. Gamma had looked at your hand before he started panicking and ran off.

Could they… see it?

“Hm?” Theta’s nails dug into your cheeks now, just like how he had with the aristocrat—you didn’t even know where they went, if they had taken the opportunity to flee or if he had done something to immobilize them, you couldn’t turn your head to check. You grimaced as you felt his nails break skin again. “Answer me.”

How was that possible?

You could all but taste the poison in his words, the impatience and the frustration. You were at a loss as to how to proceed—your arms were tied up with Kappa, one of your hands was stuck in his and he was forcing you to look at him, and that unhinged look in his red eyes was causing your brain to fog with fear.

Think. You had to think. You had to free your wrist from his hand. You had to get back to your room, or to Pantalone’s. 

Where was Pantalone? Livid, you realized that the man was probably still listening in on the show, not getting involved, leaving you to deal with this unstable bastard. 

Think. What did he want to hear? What would make him settle down at least enough to loosen his grip on you?

But how the hell were you supposed to know what he wanted you to hear? Even with just the way he spat out those two questions, you knew both answers were wrong and would set him off more. But you had to say something, the longer you went without answering his question, the more his eyes flamed with impatience—you didn’t want to know what would happen when that thin thread of patience snapped.

“I came here, didn’t I?” you asked quietly. You tried to relax your shoulders and upper body, exuding a type of faux-comfort with the man. “I came looking for you.”

Theta’s red eyes narrowed with suspicion, watching you carefully—his grip did not waver, much to your distress. 

“You don’t even know who I am,” he said coldly, speaking the one truth you’d hoped he wouldn’t. His grip on your wrist tightened and his nails dug deeper into your cheeks. “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” you told him, grimacing as his nail dragged against your skin. Kappa shifted in your arms, bristling, you couldn’t tell if he was watching or not. “You can see the thread, no? I may not fully understand how you can see it but the fact that you can speaks enough.”

Theta hesitated, the corner of his lip dipping in doubt as he tried to decide whether or not he thought you were lying. You watched with bated breath, tongue kissing the inside of your teeth, as a flurry of emotions rushed through his eyes ranging from anger to hesitancy and hope. Then his eyes hardened, decision made, and your heart sunk to your stomach.

“Liar.”

Again, his grip tightened but it was painful now and your body begged you to pull away or do something but he was stronger than you. He forced you closer to him, turning you so that if Kappa wasn’t between you, you would’ve been chest-to-chest with him. You wondered if you should let him go, let him flee somewhere safe, but he was still clutching your shirt.

Theta leaned in close, you could feel his breath hot against your cheek and the cool ceramic of his mask nudging against your skin where his nose would have been. You grit your teeth together as you felt something warm and wet press against the skin of your cheek where his nails had broken through, lapping at the blood.

Your face felt hot, anger and humiliation curdling your blood as Theta let out a puff of amused laughter against your skin.

“You taste like a liar too,” Theta crooned. “Lambda thinks you’re a fake sent to distract us. Are you a fake, little liar?”

Us. He kept saying us but you don’t know what that meant or how it was possible—they could see the thread but as far as you could tell, they did not have a connecting one. You had never seen anything like that before, nor had you ever read about anything like that. 

You thought you should say something but your mind was reeling as you tried to piece together the puzzle and figure out what was going on.

But before you could do or say anything, Kappa squirmed and twisted in your arms, hanging over you to whack his small fist hard against Theta’s mask—with more strength than you expected from the boy. 

Theta grunted stumbling back—he wasn’t hurt but the force of Kappa’s swing had partially knocked his mask off, revealing thick scars similar to the ones you had seen on Gamma. He fumbled trying to straighten out the mask and as he did, you whirled around to rush to your room.

You didn’t get far. 

Not because of Theta, who was cursing as he fastened the mask back on, but because you slammed right into someone else’s chest, broad and dressed in dark clothes. You glanced up as a pair of gloved hands grabbed your waist, irritation rising at Pantalone’s thin, close-eyed smile. You wondered if you had passed or failed whatever test he expected from this situation. 

The pads of his fingers pressed into your waist as he shifted you over to the side and behind him, leveling his attention on Theta as the man straightened back, narrowed eyes still trained on you instead of the Harbinger. 

“Theta.” Venom dripped from Pantalone’s words as he spoke his name. “I suggest you make your way back to the Doctor’s labs instead of bothering my guest.”

“Your?” Theta spat out, taking a step forward. His eyes were wild again now, far gone from the hardened look he had directed toward you after he made his decision. You stiffened, watching as Pantalone lifted his chin, raising his eyebrows, challenging Theta. “She is not your anything, banker. Go back to counting your coins and sucking noble cock to get further in the world, stay out of our business.”

Pantalone, to his credit, did not look bothered by the dig—the only sign of anger was the way his lip twitched before he spoke: “Take it up with your maker, fraud. You have no authority here, you are not the Doctor.”

“I am-” 

Sharp and loud, Theta’s voice rang up and down the hall as he took two long steps forward as if to attack Pantalone but the Harbinger only let out a huff of amusement as he cut Theta off mid-shout.

“I am not one of the subordinates who you can fool into believing you are him. You are a rabid dog running a thin line between life and death. It is only a matter of time before you’re put down, I again suggest you leave before I make that day come sooner.” 

You thought that you shouldn’t feel anything for the man standing a few paces away but something deep in you clenched when Theta drew back as if he’d been physically slapped, red eyes wide with shock. The feeling did not last long though because as quick as the hurt appeared, it was gone, twisting into something far more sinister as a wide smile spread across his lips, teeth bared much like the rabid dog Pantalone claimed him to be. 

“You think you can kill me?” 

Something manic stained his words, deranged and challenging as if he meant for Pantalone to back his words right then and there. Theta did not have a vision, not one that you could see or feel at least, but you knew in your bones that he was far, far more dangerous than he looked—he was strong and he moved faster than any visionless human you’d ever seen. Briefly, you wondered if he even was hu-

Pantalone stepped forward and the air around the four of you crackled with an energy that made your skin crawl. You let out a shaky breath, eyes widening as you took a step away from the man, unconsciously trying to get away from the source of the energy, an unnatural and uncomfortable feeling spreading through you. 

What is that? 

It felt sick. Corrupted. The air tasted stale and rotted as it seeped down the halls like poison. Your vision was reacting in response to it, the purity of the hydro energy trying to repel the new, malefic energy but it was curling all around you, trying to find chinks in the thin shield your vision was providing you from the decay. 

You had to get away from it but your feet were rooted to the ground, watching the scene play out before you. Neither Theta nor Pantalone looked bothered by the energy—in fact, Theta looked thrilled, eyes alight as his impossibly wide smile widened even more, a giggle slipping from his lips as he raised his hand as if to summon something, but before he could snap his fingers, his eyes dulled and his knees hit the ground hard. Almost like he had been turned off, just like that.

What-

At once, the energy around Pantalone dissipated and you could move, confusion riddling your mind as you tried to figure out what happened to Theta and what that disgusting energy was. You took a step forward, eyes wide and trained on Theta first—was that Pantalone’s doing? But as you turned to look at him, your gaze caught sight of a figure down the hall. 

Dottore. 

You were bleeding. 

Dottore could feel his cheeks stinging but he hadn’t been sure what it was until he got to the hall in Pantalone’s wing where Gamma had left you. Theta was on the ground, empty-eyed and still, turned off courtesy of Dottore, and Pantalone was standing to the side of you, seemingly unimpressed by the whole situation. 

But you were looking at him, and only him, and he could only focus on you, eyes tracing the blood as it dripped down your cheeks to your neck, dribbling down your skin. With creased brows and lips pressed together tightly, he couldn’t tell if the look you were directing toward him was suspicion or anger or something else entirely. The only thing he could feel from you was what he assumed were the remnants of the confrontation with Theta: fear, anxiety, skepticism, confusion, disgust. 

Disgust, was that directed toward him or Theta or both of them? It didn’t sit well with him. He wondered how much Theta had told you, and he wondered how much you’d been able to piece together from what he had. Dottore had been hoping to keep the existence of the segments a secret from you. 

The last thing he wanted to have to do was get into depth about what they were because if he knew you even half as well as he thought he did, he knew it would turn into an interrogation of all that he’d been up to with his research. Even when you were young, when the third phase of the bond had first manifested, he had to be careful about what he was thinking about so that it wasn’t transcribed to you. Countless times he received words from you that could have only been originally given by him: the names of the segments, residue, deactivate, and Dottore knew that you must be taking every word he sent you to relentlessly research into them. 

“Doctor,” Pantalone finally drawled as Dottore came to a stop in front of them, forcing his attention away from you just for a second. “It’s about time that you’ve leashed your mad dog, I’m quite tired of dealing with him.”

Dottore didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, he focused his attention back onto you—the only apparent wounds were the deep scratch marks on your cheek and wrist, painful but mostly superficial. It would heal in a few days at most, he would pass along an ointment to Pantalone so he could give it to you to speed along the healing process. 

The issue for Dottore laid in the boy tucked neatly in your arms, hiding his face against your skin.

The Kappa segment. 

Dottore exhaled. That would be trouble trying to handle. The Kappa segment was skittish and nervous. He usually only stuck around Epsilon, Iota or Gamma, he even tried to avoid the other segments if he could. Dottore had a feeling that it was because they reminded him of their father but he couldn’t be sure. 

Either way, he had never latched onto someone like this before and Dottore had a feeling it would be an issue trying to get him away from you. He didn’t like shutting down the younger segments—or any of the segments for that matter because it tended to mess with their wiring—but he thought he might have to in order to get the kid back to the estate without alerting the entire palace to your presence and relationship to him. 

His eyes lingered on you, only for a few more moments, watching the way you held Kappa close, arms wrapped around him tightly as if to shield him from danger. Kappa seemed like he was on the verge of dozing off, his shoulders rising and falling steadily—he’d never seen him so comfortable with someone that wasn’t Epsilon before. Something unfamiliar tightened his chest. Longing? Desire? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. 

He looked away sharply, finally turning his attention to Pantalone. 

“Regrator, don’t act as if you spend all of your free time reluctantly handling my segments. You are usually asking for them, in fact,” Dottore said dryly. He barely spared you another look as he said: “I’ll handle this. Go back to your room and rest.”

Your face twisted and Dottore bit back a sigh, realizing that round three of his war of words with you was about to begin.

“I am not a child,” you shot back, voice tight. “You can’t just send me to my room. I have questions and you will give me answers now. I’ve waited long enough.”

Dottore had a feeling that you were not just talking about the past few hours. You were talking about the decade he had spent ignoring your existence. Unfortunately for you, he had no interest in answering your questions, not now or ever. 

He turned his attention back to Pantalone, ignoring the furious look that spread across your face at being blatantly ignored. Luckily—or unluckily, time would tell—Epsilon stepped in. He watched as your brows dipped in suspicion, looking between Epsilon and Dottore warily. If you hadn’t put together something was very, very wrong with the existence of Kappa, Gamma and Theta already, he had a feeling that Epsilon’s appearance just sealed it. 

Dottore turned away as Epsilon took your hand in his to press his lips to your knuckles before he gently led you in the direction of the door on the left. Gamma and Iota followed behind, the latter far more excited than the former. Gamma cast one last pleading look in Dottore’s direction just as Iota slammed the door shut behind them. 

Dottore, as he turned his attention to Theta’s still body, thought this might just be the worst case scenario. All three of the children. Theta. Epsilon. The last segments Dottore wanted meeting you all somehow managed to do just that within hours of you being in Zapolyarny. This would spread to all of the rest of the segments in no time and then he would have Zeta demanding to see proof of your existence and Rho lurking about curious; he’d have Delta bashing down the palace door to get Iota away from you, convinced by Lambda that you were only here to deceive them. And he’d have Lambda doing god knows what to try to remove your existence from their lives so they could continue their research without distraction. 

He needed a plan of action and he needed it fast but first, he had to deal with this. 

“What happened?” 

“Two aristocrats came up looking for the Kappa segment,” Pantalone said off-handedly. “Your soulmate interfered.”

“Interfered?” Dottore demanded. “What was she doing wandering around?”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “Was I meant to lock her in her room?”

Dottore looked at him coldly, silently telling him yes, he should have. They could not afford to have any of their subordinates run into you, much less any of the Harbingers and he knew that some of them would be searching for you. He remembered Columbina’s cryptic comment about you a few months ago, Sandrone’s fury at your presence in Snezhnaya, Arlecchino’s odd interest in you—and if Arlecchino was interested, it was only a matter of time before she sent her attack dog after you to find out whatever she wanted to know. Keeping you isolated from the rest of the Fatui was paramount.

“What happened with Theta?” Dottore asked after Pantalone let out an exaggerated sigh of agreement. 

“What always happens with Theta,” Pantalone said dismissively. “He gets set off and lashes out. Was going on about her faking the bond, apparently Lambda is going around convincing them she’s lying.”

Of course, Dottore thought bitterly. He knew that Lambda had been talking to Zeta, Delta and Rho but he thought the segment knew better than to get Theta wound up about this. 

He took a deep breath, taking a step away to calm himself down. Well, that made that decision: the first thing he had to do was talk to Lambda, he couldn’t have him turning the segments against you, least of all Theta, who was very liable to attack those that he thinks did him wrong. After that, he would figure out what to do with the rest of the segments because in stopping Lambda, he would have to admit to them all that you were his soulmate, that this was all real. 

That this was all real. 

Dottore shut his eyes briefly, unconsciously looking in the direction of where you, Epsilon and the kids had disappeared behind the dark door that led to your room. His body itched to follow them in there—the bond in work, surely, but he could feel it was getting stronger. It was stronger than it was while he had been dancing with you, and even stronger than it had been while talking to you outside of the washroom. He should just grab Theta and drag him back down to his lab, leaving Epsilon to deal with your interrogation, but his feet weren’t cooperating.

“You should speak to her,” Pantalone said as he turned to go back to his own room. “If you’re going to have me confine her to this wretched place, you should at the very least, explain to her why… lest you have a very unhappy soulmate on your hands. I doubt that would be conducive to productivity.” 

Dottore hummed dismissively, glancing back at the door once. He supposed should, he didn’t want to deal with your turbulent emotions, especially when he was going to be dealing with the segments. 

Distantly, a part of him wondered if he was just using that as a logical excuse to give in to the pull of the bond. 

“And Doctor, do get me that prototype by the morning as promised.”

You felt overwhelmed. The older boy, Gamma, was sitting in the corner of your room, knees tucked to his chest as he watched you with the younger two. Kappa was fast asleep now, tiny arms slung around your neck as he slept—you had tried to place him down on your bed but whenever you tried to pull him away from you, his arms tightened and he started stirring awake. The other one, you didn’t know his name yet, was kneeling on the floor next to the bed where you were sitting, big red eyes peeked above the comforter, watching you with varying degrees of suspicion and distrust and longing.

He had the same scar on the upper half of his face that Gamma did, you couldn’t help but notice, down to the burn patterns and wrinkles. And they were identical, if Gamma was a few years younger, he’d be the spitting image of the kid. It was impossible. Not even brothers can be so similar as to be identical down to the wrinkles and patterns in scars. 

So, what were they?

You had to have been onto something when you thought it was some sort of experiment—Kappa was too young to have been born eight years ago, Gamma and the new kid were too similar in appearances, if you saw correctly when Kappa partially knocked off the mask even Theta seemed to have some scars on his face, and Theta and Kappa both showed a strength that did not reflect in their body.

A throat being cleared knocked you out of your thoughts, your eyes drew up from the kids to where the man was standing near the door. He gave you a small, apologetic smile as his eyes met yours—red and gentle. 

Who was this?

You watched the man with thinly veiled suspicion. He looked just like Dottore, silvery blue hair styled the same way and even wearing a similar dark button-up that he did. 

Except unlike Dottore, he was not wearing a mask. 

His skin was smooth compared to the scars of the children and instead of the ever-present frown of Dottore, the corner of his lips were turned up. You had grown used to the cold aloofness of your soulmate over the years, it unnerved you how someone could look so much like him and yet feel entirely different. 

You raised your chin as Epsilon came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, keeping your expression stony, studying him to try to figure out what he wanted from you.

“Peace,” he murmured. “I’d just like to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” 

He had a white handkerchief between his fingers and you were acutely aware of the blood still dripping down your cheeks and arm. He raised his eyebrows, but sighed when he realized you weren’t going to budge, placing the handkerchief back in his pocket. 

“Very well,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you have questions. I can answer them if you’d like.”

Of course you had questions, but could you trust him to answer them? 

He didn’t appear as if he was trying to deceive you, his eyes were warm and his lips were lax, he had none of that tightness that Dottore usually had. Was he faking it? Or was he wanting to help you? You couldn’t tell, his demeanor was throwing you off.

“You’re really her?” a new, young voice said softly, voice hesitant but tinged with the slightest bit of hope that had your heart aching. You looked back toward the kid as he peered up at you through thick curls of hair cautiously. “Our soulmate?”

Our.

Your ears rang, distantly watching as the boy reached out for your hand, thin fingers playing with yours until he reached the one your thread was looped around. From the corner of your eye, you looked at the older man, who was watching you with a knowing expression.

Our.

How was that possible? He could clearly see your thread, trying to play with it and tug at it in the same way you used to as a child, but he had no connecting one, like the Doctor did. Did that make you his soulmate but he was not yours? Was there such a thing as unrequited soulmates? But you didn’t think it was that simple, there was a critical piece of information you were still missing.

But the kid was looking at you again, anxiously awaiting your response, and you didn’t have the heart to deny him. Even if you weren’t sure what was going on, he could undeniably see your thread.

“Yes,” you finally said, watching as he lit up, red eyes pooling with tears and lips trembling as he flung himself forward, burying his face into your lap. He jostled Kappa, who kicked his foot out instinctively, but the kid was unbothered.

“I knew you were real.” His voice was muffled into the cloths of your dress. “Everyone said you weren’t but I knew you were.”

Your throat tightened and your now free hand twitched from where it was laying on the comforter of your bed, coming up to pat his head.

You let out a shaky breath, lifting your gaze to focus on the man still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with an indecipherable expression.

“I’ve never seen them take to someone like this before,” he said softly. “I suppose it’s just further proof that you are who you claim to be. Some of the others thought it might be a ploy.”

Others, you wondered distantly but you were more focused on the last thing he said, face twisting.

“I would not fake a soul bond,” you said tightly, mind turning to your stepfather and your mother, your dead father and your destroyed family.

“I insulted you,” he realized. “My apologies, it was not my intention. I was not one of the ones that thought that way but I figured it was best for you to know and prepare, some of them might doubt you when they meet you.”

“How many of you are there?” you asked, but the more important question that you just couldn’t push out was what are you?

“Excluding the Doctor, there are nine of us. I’m called Epsilon. Kappa is the youngest, then Iota, who is on your lap, and then Gamma, who’s sitting over there,” he explained.

You looked back over to where Gamma was sitting. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, staring out the window into the dark night… or maybe he was. Amused, you realized that he was still watching you carefully through the reflection of the window. As soon as he realized that you noticed what he was doing, he turned his head away quickly.

“He’ll warm up,” Epsilon said quietly. You looked back toward him, watching as his lips turned up, red eyes glittering, as if sharing some secret with you. “He’s nervous.”

You couldn’t help the way you let out a puff of amusement, studying Gamma and the way he was digging his nails into the palm of his hand and tapping his foot against the wood of the window nook incessantly. 

“I don’t… really understand all of this,” you finally admitted, relaxing a bit with Epsilon. You let yourself lean back against the large, decorative pillows set up on the bed, watching the man that looked eerily similar to Dottore, wondering if this was what he looked like beneath the mask as well.

“This is new for all of us too,” Epsilon told you, “so I can’t really explain to you what all of the bonds might be or mean… but I’m sure that is not what you’re asking right now, is it?”

“Not entirely, at least. First I’d like to understand…”

What you are. What they are. Why you can see the thread and why the children think that I’m their soulmate too.

“Well, I’ll do my best at explaining then. You deserve that much at least.”

The heavy weight on your chest lifted, if only a little. You thought that this might be the first time in weeks, months, that someone was actually giving you answers. Your father passed and left you with only questions, the masked person from the inn gave you even more questions and not a single answer, and now even Dottore refused to answer your questions, he just sent you away for Pantalone to deal with. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, eyes meeting his again.

Epsilon gave you a small smile, lips parting to speak but before he could say anything, the door to your room opened again. Your gaze shot up, eyes falling upon a familiar masked figure standing in the frame, lips pressed together tightly. 

“Epsilon,” Dottore said coldly. “Bring Theta down to the lab.”

Epsilon sighed heavily, shooting you an apologetic look before rising to his feet. “Another time,” he offered, and you nodded, disappointed, ignoring how Dottore’s lips turned downward.

Epsilon made his way out of the room, slipping past Dottore, and Gamma threw himself off the nook and scampered after Epsilon, fleeing the room without another look toward you. 

The door slam shut behind them, an eerie silence sweeping over the room as he left you with Dottore.

Dottore’s already sour mood worsened when Epsilon flung him a triumphant look as soon as his back was turned to you. He wondered what he said to you in those few minutes he was in here alone with you but for some reason, he doubted that you would tell him and he by no means wanted to add more fuel to the fire by appearing interested in you. Narrowed eyes followed Epsilon as he left the room, shutting the door harshly behind him and the Gamma segment so he could speak to you without unwelcome ears listening in.

The Kappa and Iota segments made no move to leave—one being fast asleep and the other now watching Dottore suspiciously, shifting behind you to peek over your shoulder at him. Dottore could see the boy clutching something in his hand, knuckles white around the object and arms tensed as if ready to throw it. Dottore raised his eyebrows, albeit knowing neither of you could see the action anyway. 

He ignored Iota and drew closer to the bed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the mattress that Epsilon had been sitting on as he observed you. You looked exhausted—your eyes looked heavy and tired, they didn’t have the same spark in them that they had earlier in the night, and the blood from the scratch marks on your was smeared messily, staining your skin and dress. 

Irritated, Dottore wondered why Epsilon hadn’t cleaned it up, pulling out a cloth from his jacket pocket and shifting a little closer. He grabbed your arm first, ignoring that tingling sensation as it reappeared as soon as the pads of his fingers were pressed against your bare skin, and especially ignoring the red thread tied around your finger. 

He could feel your eyes on him as he carefully wiped away the blood, distantly noting that Iota had shimmied out from behind you and was darting to the opposite side of the room. 

“He will not bother you again,” Dottore finally said, sparing a look to the side as Iota approached from the side, this time with bandages. He eyed the boy curiously, wondering if this room was one of the places he fled to those rare times he was stuck in the palace and got overwhelmed by the amount of people. Iota turned his head away pointedly and Dottore just shook his head, taking the bandages and wrapping them neatly around your wrist and forearm. 

You didn’t respond to him and Dottore glanced up at you, waiting for you to say something. You looked away, Dottore bit back an irritated sigh, tying off the bandage and moving a bit closer to look at your face.

“Thought they just called you a doctor for the irony,” you snipped half-heartedly, keeping your eyes averted as his fingers grabbed your jaw, turning your head to the side to see just how deep Theta had cut you.

Dottore let out an amused puff of air. “They do,” he drawled, “but I’m usually presented as one to acquire more willing test subjects. I must at least know the basics.” 

You gave him a withering look from the corner of your eye, bottom lip pushed out. He was grateful for his mask hiding the way his gaze lingered on it, focusing back on the scratch marks. They weren’t too deep but he didn’t have an ointment with him to spread over them, so instead he just pressed the handkerchief to the skin, cleaning up the blood.

“What are they?” you asked, eyes steeled for an argument. 

Dottore sighed heavily, considering briefly trying to avoid the subject but you did not seem keen on letting this slide and he was not in the mood for an argument. He wanted to get this done and get out of your room as soon as possible, even if his body was betraying him by allowing his fingers to linger on your cheek as he wiped away the blood. 

“They are me.”

Concise and to the point, as he always was, Dottore waited for the explosion of questions and demands to come from you but you only stared at him, studying him. Again, Dottore was grateful for his mask because he did not like the way he felt beneath your gaze.

“How?” you finally questioned. 

“Experimentation,” Dottore said dryly, your eyes narrowed as if that was an obvious answer. His lip unconsciously pulled up into a smirk. “I was able to isolate and extract my consciousness at specific periods of my life after years of study into-”

“Irminsul,” you finished for him, voice little over a breath and eyes darting down to your forearm. 

Dottore’s lips pressed into a thin line, watching you carefully—he did not like that, or did he? A part of him was impressed that you’d managed to put it together so easily just from the little he said and the words that had been transcribed to you through the bond. But on the same note, he thought that the fact that the bond had given you enough words to so easily string together how he had gone about his research was unnerving. 

Not for the first time since the bond appeared, Dottore felt distinctly violated. 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Study into Irminsul. All I had to do was create vessels for the consciousnesses after extracting them.”

“And they are… you?” 

You were looking at Kappa with a different expression now, Dottore couldn’t figure out what it was but it made him uncomfortable, vulnerable. There was a reason why he made sure to keep all of the younger segments far, far away from people. Dottore let his hand drop back to his lap, folding the handkerchief and placing it back in his pocket. 

“Yes.” His voice came out colder and sharper, and you caught the change in tone, looking up at him quickly with furrowed brows. “I’ll be taking them back to the labs.”

You didn’t look pleased, frowning as you looked down at Kappa, who was still fast asleep. Behind Dottore, Iota let out a noise of protest but Dottore only had to turn his head to the side to stop the boy from speaking his complaint out loud. 

“So what? You’re just going to leave again?” you asked harshly.

“Did you think I was going to stay?” he quipped back, sarcasm dripping from his words. “That you and the younger segments and I were just going to be one happy family?” 

To your credit, you didn’t look too perturbed by the harsh words but he knew it affected you, if the way your grip tightened on Kappa had anything to say about it.

“You can’t just keep me here,” you spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not-”

“You’ll find that I can do whatever I want,” Dottore corrected, rising to his feet. 

You didn’t hesitate, shifting Kappa down to lay on the bed next to you as you moved forward, fingers wrapping around his wrist to hold him in place. A commendable effort, but all it would take was one quick snap of his wrist to free it from your hold…

But he did not snap away his wrist. As easy as it would have been, instead he just stood there, staring down at you, waiting for you to say whatever you wanted to say. He tensed as if to pull away but his body didn’t cooperate—he blamed it on the bond but he wasn’t so sure that was the case.

“I’m not done,” you said. “I have more questions.”

“Another time,” he dismissed, finally forcing himself to pull his wrist back. Again, he felt a strange void as soon as the pressure of your fingers was removed from him. “I’ve wasted enough time tonight.”

Wasted?

“Wasted?” you echoed his very thought, scoffing loudly before shaking your head. “You know what, I don’t really care. What I do care about is knowing what that energy was around Pantalone—what was that?”

Dottore looked at her steadily from beneath his mask. “That is none of your business,” he said coolly. “Do not go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong lest you find yourself a guest here forever.”

The look you gave him was nothing short of murderous. “As if I won’t be already,” you spat, rising to your feet to take a few steps closer to him after he moved away. Dottore remained rooted in place, looking down at you. “I will not be kept here like a caged animal.”

“Then maybe you should not act like one.”

“Excuse me?” Dottore’s words held no weight, but he did very much enjoy goading reactions out of you, watching as your face twisted in fury at the insult. “I came here for a reason, Doctor, and that reason was not to be imprisoned by you. I have information I need to find and one way or another, I will acquire it. You can either-”

“You will do as I say so long as you’re in this palace,” Dottore said, cutting you off by pinching your cheeks between his fingers and tilting your face up to look at him. “Just because we have a bond forced on us by Celestia does not make you untouchable, control that tongue of yours before it lashes at the wrong person. Once I get the information I want, I will consider getting you what you want. Then, we will never have to see each other again. Until then, you have reaped what you sowed and it is no one’s fault but your own that you were not adequately prepared for the consequences of your actions, do you understand?”

Just for a second, he watched as a helpless expression spread across your face, eyes glassy and lips pressed together tight as you stared up at him. His tongue itched to say something else but no words formed on it before you snapped your face out of his hold, looking away. 

“Get out.”

A part of him wanted to refuse just to be spiteful—was it spite? Or was it something else, that heavy feeling weighing at his chest? That was a question he was not ready to answer, so instead, he smiled thinly:

“Gladly.”

i promise they’re going to start warming up to each other soon more than just in their internal narration <.< soon as in very soon wait til you see the scene i have planned

RBS APPRECIATED!

— “hands off! i’m taken!”

for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption

A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).

it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)

he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.

and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?

“hands off! i’m taken!”

…or so he thought.

regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.

“pardon?”

“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”

were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.

(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)

alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent. 

now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…

‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.

then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.

seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”

“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”

“actually, i am.”

you blink at him. “you’re what?”

“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.

(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)

after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”

there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—

quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”

is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?

against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.

“then… may i ask what i am?”

“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”

neuvillette feels as though he could cry.

(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.

despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.

yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)

mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

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An Encore of Betrayal

Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.

Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)

Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.

Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!

Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.

One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships. 

Would you believe that such a place exists? 

Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues. 

Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.

A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’. 

Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine. 

A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy. 

Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.

But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy. 

It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.

Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling. 

Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers. 

----------

There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.

But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.

The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.

Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown. 

Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes. 

‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.

Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’

Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’ 

So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly. 

The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water. 

‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored. 

‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed. 

But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.

So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name. 

‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered. 

‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked. 

The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon. 

Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish. 

‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’

A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom. 

And they lived happily ever after. 

----------

Ah, so it was that tale. 

Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.

Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children. 

A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.

This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation’s lips to another’s ears. 

However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.

Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory. 

Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last. 

Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.

Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.

Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t? 

What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?

To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?

Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests. 

From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon. 

A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum?  It’d be best that he alleviates their worries. 

“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf. 

His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.

Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd. 

“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette. 

Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.

Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face. 

“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict. 

“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin. 

It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides. 

To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate. 

Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.

Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.

“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I’ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.

His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest. 

The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode. 

Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows. 

Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.

A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh. 

Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.

This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh. 

Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds. 

Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace. 

How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.

His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face. 

The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.

Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness. 

Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil. 

They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces. 

He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him. 

Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago. 

The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much. 

Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?

His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away. 

Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels. 

It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale. 

A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.  

The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside. 

Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands. 

The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.

Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately. 

A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago. 

Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself. 

A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.

The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath. 

“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes. 

Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert. 

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand. 

He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.

Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled? 

“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.

Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?

The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.

This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil. 

“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response. 

Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words. 

“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation. 

Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you. 

“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets. 

A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips. 

“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone. 

“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy. 

A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.

Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress. 

“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.” 

It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude. 

“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare reminded on her short form. 

“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand. 

“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish. 

Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her. 

“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces. 

“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him. 

“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”

Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back. 

Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth. 

“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup. 

A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return. 

Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his. 

“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand. 

There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it. 

“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips. 

That was his rebuttal to that snarl.

The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth. 

 Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry. 

Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.

Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.

With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it. 

The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.

They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them. 

In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.

About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like. 

The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.

Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity. 

Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.

What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago? 

From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale. 

Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for. 

However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away. 

He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.

Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring. 

Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface? 

This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight. 

But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least. 

Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.

The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea. 

Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?

It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation. 

“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment. 

He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation. 

“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.

His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.

Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry. 

“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater running crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out. 

“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up. 

The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.

“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs. 

He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals. 

Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.

When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above. 

Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own. 

Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.

Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons. 

“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.

His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer. 

“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low. 

No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.

Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks. 

As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders. 

“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce. 

He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation. 

In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description? 

“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question. 

He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself. 

A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans. 

In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity. 

Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions. 

“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter. 

Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale. 

If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations? 

After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him. 

No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders. 

“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing. 

“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.” 

The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on. 

“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you. 

“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes. 

Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.

Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within. 

“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer. 

He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes. 

“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.

Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.

That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale. 

Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful. 

There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance. 

No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him. 

Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more. 

A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.

Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces. 

“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence. 

An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.

Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased. 

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him. 

Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels. 

“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag. 

Yes, Consomme Purete.

It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.

The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today. 

Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.

The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before. 

Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?

Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.

His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.

Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew. 

“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly. 

The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.

A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young. 

Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning. 

“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite. 

There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate. 

“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains. 

A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again. 

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

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!” 

Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices. 

There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.

The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors. 

Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.

Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands. 

While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust. 

Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.

Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him. 

Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.

A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it. 

A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.

Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.

It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does. 

“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror. 

It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical. 

“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.

“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens. 

Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.

“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair. 

Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.

Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame. 

“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.

A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.

“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air. 

Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.

Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate. 

“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads. 

Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment 

A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully. 

“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.

His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes. 

Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean? 

“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.

A deep breath as he formulates his response. 

“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.” 

“Oh, I see,” you hum. 

 Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.

Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises. 

An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame. 

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

“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back. 

The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.

Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience. 

Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines. 

Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat. 

“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket. 

A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.

The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips. 

“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand. 

Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too. 

“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses. 

Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight. 

There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape. 

Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.

He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him. 

Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue. 

“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips. 

His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.

A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself. 

Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips? 

Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.

He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness. 

“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting. 

Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.

Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience. 

However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.

Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations. 

A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.

Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.  

Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.

A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse. 

This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.

He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong. 

Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?

To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting. 

Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted. 

The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same. 

Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek. 

A glimmer he once believed was love.  

The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did. 

For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.

She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.

Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.

Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity? 

Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine? 

If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.

 Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth. 

 She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.

What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.

A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear. 

Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine. 

Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:

‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’. 

What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves. 

 That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.

You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty. 

Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself. 

So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.

Was his torment entertaining to them? 

Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse. 

Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions. 

 Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates. 

To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence. 

The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.

The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection. 

His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.

The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire. 

The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.

But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame. 

The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.

The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves. 

Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil. 

An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils. 

Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star. 

You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud. 

A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.

Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression. 

A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.

Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.  

However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound. 

His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder. 

 Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.

With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.

Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.

Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame. 

A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.

Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself. 

Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate. 

A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.

One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.

It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides. 

A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.

Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times. 

The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.

It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight. 

The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.

What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.

You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.

To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.

It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours. 

Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?

Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him. 

Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.

Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play. 

“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.

Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.

How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?

Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you. 

“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins. 

After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer. 

“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders. 

“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.

Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions. 

However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs. 

“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.” 

Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes. 

“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire. 

“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.” 

“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes. 

He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing. 

“That is what you must find for yourself.” 

Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end. 

The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead. 

“Oh?”

“Oh?”

What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.

Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor. 

“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you. 

Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath. 

“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up. 

Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.

The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon. 

He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly. 

“Oh…”

It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight. 

This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.

It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you. 

It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his. 

Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him? 

“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws. 

“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?” 

Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?

The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions. 

You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire. 

Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs. 

Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation. 

“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen. 

Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl. 

“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over. 

“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.

A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel. 

This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup? 

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness. 

Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat. 

“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises. 

A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space. 

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something. 

As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders. 

Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride. 

You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return. 

“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation. 

The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips. 

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something. 

After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.

Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup. 

In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint. 

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

“Is your name Édouard?” 

Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.

You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.

Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.

However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?

Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows. 

Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics. 

Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.

He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name. 

Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.

All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.

He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.

“There’s a tear in your coat…” 

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear. 

“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams. 

He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say. 

“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer. 

It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands. 

To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment. 

Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host. 

“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.” 

His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.

As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.

“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands. 

Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.

Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him. 

“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair. 

Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.

However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture. 

Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.

His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table. 

The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences. 

“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth. 

Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.

Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.

Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long. 

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself. 

Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.

Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body. 

Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.

If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them. 

Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.

Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure. 

By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.

Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support. 

Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.

The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands. 

“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude. 

He hums an answer. 

“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows. 

“Why did you say that?” You finish your question. 

Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences. 

The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool. 

“Do you really wish to know?” He warns. 

You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here. 

Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat. 

“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals. 

The needle stops.

“A curse?…” you stammer out. 

Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.

The answer was sitting just in front of him. 

“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?” 

To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.

But such hands could not touch a being such as him. 

“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept. 

“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber. 

Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.

To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.

For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea. 

Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse. 

“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper. 

Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears. 

“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.” 

Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale. 

Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?

A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal. 

 Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape. 

Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.

More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.

Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?

The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal. 

A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool. 

What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.

A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting. 

“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present. 

Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer. 

“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.” 

Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves. 

He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.

Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.  

“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap. 

A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace. 

However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice. 

Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.

Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.

It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles. 

Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame. 

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

“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor. 

Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.

Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette. 

“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.

“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.” 

“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…” 

There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt. 

“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.” 

She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face. 

“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate. 

You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel. 

“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns. 

A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets. 

Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd. 

“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress. 

“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside. 

“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted. 

Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.

They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses. 

He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.

For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison? 

His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now? 

“Could you be expecting?” 

Huh?

Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.

Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation. 

“Will there be a new addition to the village?” 

“How long do we have to wait?” 

“Are we getting a brother or sister?” 

Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat. 

“No,” he coughs out. 

A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes. 

“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement. 

A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.

A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine. 

“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps. 

You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.

A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down. 

“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles. 

Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness. 

Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time. 

Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?

Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?

“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks. 

Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down. 

“Where does a baby come from?” 

The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.

If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?

How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?

“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.

“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?” 

At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.

The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve. 

“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.  

“Of course, Sébastien.” 

His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts. 

“Regrettably, that is not my name.” 

“Was it at least a decent attempt?” 

He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.

Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed. 

His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.

Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.

Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.

No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.

“Do you miss the sea?” 

Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.

Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response. 

“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.” 

After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.

Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight. 

Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.

One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.

For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. 

Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips. 

His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.

Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.

However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands. 

When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle. 

It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.

The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish. 

A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.

An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…

Neuvillette clears his throat. 

“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you. 

“Oh?...” The comb stops.

At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone. 

A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff. 

“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly. 

The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’. 

Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily. 

He needs to leave now. For your sake. 

Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face. 

Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?  

The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn. 

The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin. 

How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering. 

A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory? 

Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.

No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.

Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct. 

From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly. 

But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity. 

He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows. 

Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought. 

The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.

“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.

Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust. 

“Neuvillette?” 

He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust. 

 The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart. 

Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure. 

However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment. 

So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets. 

A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer. 

“Neuvillette?…” 

His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion. 

He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face. 

“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes. 

The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form. 

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut. 

“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown. 

Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.

“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.

 Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.

“...But I missed you…” You whisper. 

Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth. 

“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this. 

“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.

Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body. 

“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit. 

“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder. 

Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes. 

Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.

“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours. 

Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat. 

And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy. 

“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it? 

Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long. 

Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat. 

The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.

His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air. 

Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.

A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away. 

Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?

They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.

Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right? 

His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.

Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise. 

His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections. 

Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?

Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?

There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch. 

Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper. 

Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin. 

Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.

A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.

Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit. 

Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.

Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires. 

A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.

Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well. 

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.

Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?

His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you. 

There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.

Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up. 

Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.

Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat. 

Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds.  Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.

The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.

Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.  

The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.

They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried. 

The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before? 

Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows. 

“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face. 

This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils. 

Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?

That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress. 

“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him. 

Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.

An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets. 

Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?

A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.

His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit. 

Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.

The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities. 

“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort. 

Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon. 

“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice. 

Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.

The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.

The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.

The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.

As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter. 

A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.

It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.

Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him. 

That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight. 

Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life. 

One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been. 

Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.

Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open. 

His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.

Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for. 

Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.

Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.

A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.

Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up? 

“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear. 

Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you. 

“That’s too bad.”

 His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms. 

He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.

Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you. 

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.

Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him. 

Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat. 

A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.

Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity. 

Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.

As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his. 

In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?

Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.

He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.

Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface. 

Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.

Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was. 

Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.

He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.

A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.

He doesn’t want to see it. 

The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues. 

But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.

What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much. 

It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.

As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin. 

Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them. 

How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick. 

You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.

How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters. 

You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition. 

If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting. 

Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.

The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.

Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?

There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.

Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame. 

There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.

Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.

His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips. 

The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.

The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head. 

Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.

He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all. 

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.

The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges. 

There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.

No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.

Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls. 

You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.

Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body. 

An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse. 

Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.

An offering made to him.

So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.

Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body. 

He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.

Why not renew it? 

Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.

Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape. 

‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.

Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.

No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well. 

It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.

But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper. 

Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon burly a hand.

Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.

An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his. 

Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.

Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind. 

A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.

However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart. 

The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession. 

For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.

No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles. 

He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.

Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown. 

Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.

 To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged. 

Oh, how could he not love you?

The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.

A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile. 

The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.

Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was. 

The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.

Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls. 

Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing. 

Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.

Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe. 

Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same. 

With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.

The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you. 

Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality. 

He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure. 

Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.

Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.

Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes. 

Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.

However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy. 

However, this wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance. 

The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin. 

A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness. 

A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.

Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort. 

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel. 

You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.

Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you. 

“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.

Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom. 

“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand. 

Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism. 

“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue. 

“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind. 

A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him. 

“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”

A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water. 

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

“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”

“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice. 

Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.

Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.

“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support. 

With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.

Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.

What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface. 

“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone. 

However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall. 

“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues. 

‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears. 

“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning. 

There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.

But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water. 

To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.

However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?

To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.

Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?

Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth? 

His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.

No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending. 

Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.

The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before. 

“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him. 

Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace. 

As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile. 

Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.

Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time? 

Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours. 

Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors? 

A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.

Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon. 

“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?

“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away. 

Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.

“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.

Why must you keep lying to him? 

Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.

Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away. 

Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called? 

“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him. 

A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.

For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale. 

“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over. 

This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that? 

“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle. 

Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore. 

“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation. 

Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.

The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.

Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in. 

He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve. 

“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know. 

But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity. 

He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires. 

“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands. 

He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his. 

“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.

His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish. 

Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.  

Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.

Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions. 

He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses. 

The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks. 

 “Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now. 

Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could. 

Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches. 

Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks. 

Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here. 

What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil. 

“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”

A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?

Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks. 

“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.

“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.

Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue. 

“How could I hate you?” he confesses. 

Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation. 

For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time. 

Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.

Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours. 

“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks. 

That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you? 

Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long? 

“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict. 

“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.

He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes. 

Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.

Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge. 

A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods. 

However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition. 

If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

Character : Zhongli

Mentioning: Childe

Themes: self aware, slightly angst.

As a former archon who reigned for thousands of years and lost many of his closest wholes, he found his lost glimmer. It's you.

As a former archon who ruled for thousands of years and lost many of those closest to him, he finds his lost glimmer. It is you.

Your arrival was right at the time of the Rite of Descension when Rex Lapis aka himself faked his death and chose to use a mortal body and chose to start working at the wangsheng funeral parlor, preparing a farewell for The Rex Lapis. He received a call to go to Liuli Pavilion, that's where he met you in Traveler form when Childe introduced himself to you.

Zhongli is a very thorough man. He immediately noticed Traveler's strangeness when they met at Liuli Pavilion. Traveler is not from Teyvat. But you… you're nowhere to be seen. But Zhongli can feel your presence.

The tone of your voice when you are happy to see him appear at certain events, the tone of your voice when you laugh at his behavior again when he forgets to bring his money again, the tone of your voice when you scold him for not being careful when spending money on shopping. Zhongli really wants to see you in person. But for now, he should be satisfied just listening to your voice when Traveler is around him.

He realizes that your world and his world are separated between screens and programs. He reflected on himself. He felt a little worried. If you are bored, will you really leave them? leaving Teyvat? leaving… himself? But he immediately breathed a sigh of relief after more than 2 weeks when he felt your presence, you faced the screen again. He will be happy to be by your side even if it's just for a character hang out event.

There are many rumors circulating around Liyue, when blessings will be given to vision holders, the falling stars are blessings given to those who are lucky in all parts of the Teyvat area.

And Childe was one of the lucky ones at that time. Childe happily praised how lucky he was to have such a blessing. Zhongli just smiled and congratulated Childe while drinking his osmanthus wine. But deep inside, he felt strange. Could it be that Archons with non-vision holders will not receive the blessings they deserve?

Sometimes, he hears how disappointed you are and gives up on the banner. He sometimes hopes he can break the game system, convince you he will be by your side for the third chance but he can't hope for more if you don't trust him anymore.

Zhongli put those thoughts aside. He just wants to be able to always be by your side when adventuring throughout Teyvat apart from his activities as a wangsheng funeral parlor consultant.

He couldn't help but envy Childe how lucky he was to have such a blessing. I mean… who doesn't want to get this lucky blessing?

Zhongli's heart felt a little sad after knowing that you didn't want him to come a third time after failing. He would probably blame himself, if only he could break the percentage system rules for you.

He knows very well that your world is much more real than his current world, full of codes and programming that the people of Teyvat believe are the creation of one of the gods.

He can only imagine how charming your face looks from behind that screen. Or maybe he could just find a way to get away from your screen and touch your cheek just once. Hoping that one day, you will appear beside him with your signature laugh to accompany his days. As a god, the former god is very pity to expect love and affection from mortals in return.

That night, when Zhongli was out of work and walking around the port of Liyue, and looking up at the night sky, he wished that the golden stars were for him after your lucky blessing fell on him once again.

»»-----------fin-----------««

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It's shorter than anything else. lol. I mean… The previous one was over 7000 words plus. But this one is less. I wish I could write more like Alhaitham or Childe's version regarding I'm writing this from Euhm.. February too.

I swear, my Zhongli won't come home twice, man. I'm so stupid. Where's my Primo crisis again😭🤌

Zhongli doesn't want to go back to my account. *Hiks shrot.*😞🤚

Zhongli once said : "Osmanthus wine taste the same as i remember. But how do we met if you don't have enough any primogems." 😞🤌

-Zhongli 2k23 4

Plss guys help me find this fanfic(TnT")

it's where the reader is a character from genshin impact and being shipped with other characters by the players

(I honestly don't even know if it makes sense)

Happy Birthday Bb

🎂💙🦋

Zhongli and Neuvillette

Papa 🐉 holding his newborn son... Then he gets the bright idea to bring him to the courtyard so he could turn into a dragon. He thinks a dragon-to-dragon communication type of thing would help them get closer.

What he didn't really think about was how dramatically tiny his son is compared to him. The boy's practically the size of a worm to him, so he could only stick out a claw to touch him. The boy tumbles backward even when he tried so very hard to be gentle though. He feels guilty. So he tucks his ears down, plops to the ground, and silently watches as his son crawls around while trying to make sense of the new world outside his cramped egg.

Then the boy reaches him. He snuggles into his dad's snout and lets out a happy squeak.

You've been watching from a distance for a while now. You already feel warm inside just from watching practically nothing happening, but you feel a burst of amusement and happiness when you see the dragon-- the gigantic, terrifying, absolutely deadly dragon, furiously wagging his tail when the little wyrmling touches his true form for the first time.

Watching From The Sidelines P.4

[SAGAU X SHAPESHIFTER READER]

Synopsis: The game continues, but feelings of pain start arising. You are vulnerable. But this might be a wake up call for you.

A/n: Thank you so much for the support! Y'all filling my notifications with tag list request lmao. I can't write all of you, I have 4 index cards full of usernames. But I'll try my best!

TW// vomiting blood, being very sick.

Also heavy leaning to Zhongli x Reader

Song recommendations:

Gold - Imagine Dragons

Golden hour - JVKE

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

It's been a few months since the game has started.

Life was going on as normally, well as normal as a business man working with literally gods chasing you.

Of course even with unlimited stamina, and unmatched skill, it's starting to take a toll on your body. You couldn't explain it, but something was hurting deep inside you.

Maybe it was the fact you haven't been 'you'.

You been stuck as m/n for months! And your kinda starting to forget who you are. Sure it's been a lot of fun to play pretend. Being smug and rich and whatever...but you kinda miss old you.

The person who played genshin for fun! Sure, your no longer financially struggling or suffering but at this point, looking in the mirror is starting to be painful.

You don't know how long you can play this game anymore.

Of course you knew the acolytes and followers are more then devoted to you, willing to do whatever to do whatever you want. To prove themselves to you and win your favor, and this point they added so much people it's starting to get annoying.

Yeah, it's fun but you don't know how much your heart can take it.

Currently your hiding inside a shed, listening carefully to your surroundings outside.

You felt this unbearable sinking feeling in your chest. At this point your tempted to call the game quits because something is very wrong.

You really don't want to though.

Hours passed, sinking in and out of consciousness, you see a person shouting at you trying to warn you something before gasping awake.

You unintentionally fell asleep in the shed, bewildered and stressed out you decided leaving the shed for air was your best bet.

As you clutched onto you stomach you felt very uncomfortable.

You took a deep breathe of air, trying to stable yourself but you can't. You don't know why? Was it you doubting yourself? Who's the person you dreamed of?

Imagines of someone speaking to you popped into your head again, disorienting you.

"Zhongli!" You yelled out, leaning on a wall coughing into your hand, noticing it shine in reflection of the sun.

It was blood.

Your blood.

He immediately appeared, startling you, he looked at you concerned.

You immediately shaped shifted to your original form.

" I-i hate to end the game, but I...I don't feel well I don't think I can continue on." You mumbles to him.

His eyes widen at this, as other acolytes appeared behind him. You started coughing again, and next thing you knew. You vomit out blood, and collapsed on the ground.

You heard screaming, crying, and feeling of hands holding you gently in their grasp.

You also saw that person again briefly, they were stroking your hair mumbling sweet nothings to you.

It felt warm.

Then everything went to black.

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

You felt comfortable.

Very comfortable.

You blinked slowly, waking up realizing youwere practically drowning in pillows and blankets. Staring at the ceiling above you, before eventually sitting up. You were on this huge bed, gently patting your chest. Noticing the change of clothes.

It was a simple white nightgown, most likely due to your other clothes covered in your blood.

Before you can even think, the door swung open, The archons looking at you.

"YOUR GRACE YOU'RE AWAKE!" Venti yellowed out, practically tears brimming his eyes. " I was so worried! "

"Your highness please, never scare us like that again." Zhongli says, closing the door behind him so others don't barge in.

Ei stood their silently, looking at you with sadden look.

You sigh," Zhongli... explained what happened after I blacked out?"

He nods, " Of course your grace, after...after you passed out, we thought we lost you after so long. We had to shield you and bring you back to the temple quick as possible. We got the best doctors to check up on you. "

You looked at your hands, clenching them into fists before letting go.

"My body was probably stressing out after using so much of my shapeshifting ability. And it magnifying with my identity crisis. It made me too vulnerable.

But who is that person I keep seeing? I didn't even dream of them..."

You sigh, " I apologize for worrying you all, it appears I must pause the game in the meantime. As I need to rest and heal. I had no idea this would have happened. I'll take note of it in the future. "

You tried to get up, but all three Archons immediately set you back down.

" I apologize your highness but we can not let you leave this room. " Zhongli says firmly, tucking you back in. "If you want anything, we will get it for you."

After everything, you just agree with it. "Ei take care of my business, Venti alert the others I'm awake. Zhongli you stay with me. " You quietly ordered them.

They all nod.

You were exhausted even if you just awoke. Som much things already on your mind.

"Zhongli can I ask you an odd request." You mumbles.

"Nothing is odd if it's coming from you your highness. What is your request?" He asked, sitting on a chair besides the bed to keep watch.

You gently lend a hand out, " can I hold your hand?"

He perked up at the request, " H-hold your hand? It would be an honor. " He gently grabs your hand. It felt reassuring to have, as you slowly blink. Falling asleep with your hand interlock with Zhongli's.

You didn't dream of that person again.

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

You been recovering well, however you practically can not do anything. Like at all.

Also no info could be found of the person you are looking for. Which is huge bummer but you'll look more into it yourself once at full health.

Besides that, due to the accident the Archons are scared you're going to vomit out blood again. They are hovering over you 24/7, like you can't be alone at all. Someone has to be with you at all times.

You couldn't even feed yourself, someone has to feed you by hand while you sat in bed.

It was humiliating.

But you couldn't do much until your strength was fully back.

But there was something you didn't expect....

That was meeting the harbingers.

You were literally in a nightgown, in bed, resting and Dottore was doing a check up on you....

HOW WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO ACT????

You knew of pantalone due to business connects and such as m/n. But the others? How the hell were you supposed to deal with them???

You just sat there, unsure as they asked how your doing and such. It was obvious they wanted to be in your favor.

All you can do is let them, as time passed and you watch the harbingers speak to each other. You paid them no attention as you slowly drifted to sleep engulfed in a warm embrace of it.

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

At this point, you were so sick of resting.

Besides Ei bringing you papers to read or give your signature to for your business. You practically had nothing to do!

Your been nagged to death by so many people, The Archons, Harbingers, followers etc. The list goes on and your going insane. The amount of times late at night your suffocating yourself with a pillow or punching it before being sedated by Zhongli.

You wanted to rip your hair out!

However the more you slept, the more you talked to 'that' person.

You still don't know who it is, but it's clear they were warning you of your illness.

Which confused you still, but that's a plus up. However that still doesn't change your issues.

1. Who is dream person?

2.Health is not fully healed.

3.Stuck in the temple much to your displeasure.

4. Having to pause the game.

Things are not going as you planned....

You are pacing in your room, Zhongli watching you in concerned.

"Is something wrong your highness? You seem troubled. " He asked but all you can do is pace back in forth thinking.

You looked at him.

"Zhongli, what your opinion in continuing the game? We never finished it." You faced him. He thinks about it, " I-im unsure your highness, believe me, as we want to prove our loyalty to you. You must understand we don't know how much you recovered. We fear of loosing you. "

" so if I were to wish to continue, it's assume the others would decline? "

" Most likely yes your highness. "

You sigh, running your hand through your hair, " call a meeting with everyone involved in the game. " You command yanking the doors open and swiftly walking down the hallway.

Zhongli immediately chases after you, " your highness! I understand you're displeased but your in a nightgown! Barefooted on tile! " He tries to usher you , but you only ignored him.

Others soon noticed you, common folk immediately bowed before you and stepped away. Others started to follow behind you trying to put you back to bed.

You headed to the throne room, and sat at your throne. Not caring if your dressed improperly, you wanted things done.

Aether and Paimon was visiting a noticed you walking in and the archons following behind you as well body guards. He was confused what was going on as more appeared. Soon him and Paimon was ushered in.

You held a meeting.

"As many of you know, I gotten I'll however. I feel I rested enough. I wish to continue the game. " You command, resting your head on your hand watching the others.

Chatter erupted the room.

Some disagreed to this, prioritizing your health above anything else. Other's were arguing for it, as you created the game and wished for this.

It was hotly debated between the folk.

You sat above and watched down at them, listening to their opinions. You honestly wanted to know what to do. Crossing you legs and pondered.

Zhongli was absolutely against this and he took off his coat and place it on your lap. Keeping you covered.

"Ah, thank you." You quietly say. Unknowingly as others noticed this. Them turing to face you.

"Its my pleasure your highness." Zhongli says with a smile, placing a kiss on your hand.

What was meant to be a serious debated turned into an argument over you. And now others were suggesting to give you a piece of their clothing to you.

You couldn't help but laugh nervously and blush at this stupid situation. How the hell are you supposed to manage this stupid mess? This is nothing like running a business.

God help me.

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

Tag list:

@borbsbirbs @emuxmu @cryastre @lizzhearthz @aphxdea @leafanonsforest @mynameis-star @lunarapple @red1sg0n3 @0hsilver @travelergarnett @valeriele3 @imlost-sendhelp @local-mr-frog @cumbermovels @bidisasterforevermore @sora-but-sadder @moraxsimp69 @iruiji @ll-nty77 @yuyuzi-ling @yunareinhart @enld @code-roevember @no-name-omo @meena-in-a-nutshell @randomnatics @the-2nd-random-kid @smokey-cat @moosieman12345 @nexylaza @stellakito @byakuren100 @jcrml @guess-i-die @creation-magician @longppanoodle @angelkazusstuff @apple-ai @yandere-city

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

Them leaving you in place

It's one of your only resting times and your least favorite. The other two being when you're not in the party or when the player leaves.

It's not like you hate taking a break or anything, archon knows you're not a workaholic like a few of your acquaintances.

Today the player invited a new friend into his world, low level and all that. After they afk a bit you move to comfort the scared Klee the other player had.

— More under the cut —

You sat stiffly on the chair as the player and her friend chatted among themselves.

The topic has long bored you and you resigned yourself to looking around the scenery of Mt. Aocong, or so you would if the other player's Klee didn't look so distraught.

You already met the Klee your player had but she mostly hung around the Knight of Favonius. The little kid had ample time and support so she got back on her feet after becoming self aware relatively fast but if your guess is right then this Klee probably didn't have the same luxury.

[Oh shoot! I forgot to cook rice!]

[Hahaha! You're dead!... oh wait i had to cook rice too.]

After you discreetly looked into their screen and made sure they left you stood up from the stone chair and approached co-op Klee.

She flinched and looked at you with fear before holding your hands up and showing her you mean no threat.

“Hey uh Klee, you probably don't know me but i know you. You're probably confused so feel free to ask anything.”

You spoke in an awkward albeit reassuring tone. She continues to look at you warily, archons you suck at dealing with kids.

Remembering a trick a Fontainian acquaintance once taught you you proceeded to pull out a mora.

“Here! Do you see this? It's a mora! Oh and where did it go? Right behind your ear.”

You felt tension leave your shoulder after her eyes brightened up with curiosity.

“Ohh ohh, how did you do that?”

She asked curiously as you make a shushing motion with a playful wink.

“Magicians secret, anyway how are you feeling?”

You ask while pulling out a juice from your inventory.

“Klee is a bit scared…”

She replies, looking down and twiddling with her fingers before brightening up as she happily takes the juice you gave her.

“Yeah it's… always scary the first time.”

You then went back to your seat and kept talking to her. She's actually quite nice to be around.

The small bundle of energy happily talked about her adventures, dodoco, and older brother Albedo. You didn't realize how much time had passed until Klee’s player entered the room, left the game and the co-op world ended.

You felt uneasy being left in silence once again but without your player closing the app you could do nothing but stand out in the open, doing some idle animations or dialogue every now and again.

Even when it rained. Even when a lightning struck you. Just standing in painstaking silence...

Beautiful flowers are meant to be admired

Sypnosis:

Reincarnating into Teyvat you never expected to be a model, or a top one at that.

Unfortunately, things are not what they seem.

A/n:

I would like to thank @shizukano for letting me use their idea from this post.

—

[You never wanted this.]

Keeping your head low you made sure to follow your guard as he pushed through the crowd.

“Miss Y/n, please look here!” A paparazzi shouts, though you can't tell from where you can assume he is behind one of the many flashes blinding you.

“Miss Y/n, how do you feel about the rumors?” An eager reporter tries to squeeze pass your guards, notepad in hand.

“P/n!”

Hearing someone call out your player name made your raise your head in a panic. Desperately searching the crowd for the whoever said it was futile with your actions doing nothing but serve as fuel for whatever narrative these reporters would spin.

Yet you couldn't help but notice a blur of pink hair before your guards moved you along.

[It feels so suffocating.]

Head low you can feel the deafening silence as your heart beats out of your chest.

“Y/n what the hell did you think you were doing?”

Your manager, a once close friend now seethes with barely contained rage.

“I-i didn't mean to offend anyone. They said it was a free time and—”

“Don't make excuses!” He shouts, slamming the wooden desk. “Was it so hard to stay in one place?!”

This was your first time visiting Inazuma after you were brought to Teyvat. You just wanted to enjoy the sceneries between all the photoshoots and meetings.

You never expected that the head of Yashiro commission would suddenly visit during one of your escapades.

“The Yashiro commission finds your lack of proper work etiquette to be unfit for them. They're canceling the collaboration.”

“B-but—.”

“Don't but me, get out and pack your stuff we'll continue this talk back in Fontaine.”

Filled with shame you meekly walk out of his office, though you swear you saw a blur of blonde hair peek around a corner your troubled mind simply blurred it out.

[Somebody help.]

…You were invited by your favorite character to go out.

Honestly you shouldn't have gone but with stress piling up you could barely deny yourself a chance to let loose and meet someone you held dearly in your heart.

So you went out without telling anyone, reached the arranged meeting area and…

[Pov: ___]

They couldn't believe it.

After so long they finally had you in their arms.

The other needed wanted you for themselves too but they got to you first.

You were so hard to lure out by yourself you know? Then again that incident with those stalkers of yours must have made you wary.

It certainly made them seethe, but now you're here. Protected from the dangers outside and where you could be admired like the beautiful flower you are.

Fin~

SPECIAL BONUS ENDINGS FOR CHARLOTTE AND AYATO

[Pov: Charlotte.]

She always disliked those reporters who reported falsely.

Giving fake news and always trying to stir up drama.

Especially when she learned that you were being targeted by them. That poor look of yours as you were hounded by them, after confirming it really was you she made sure to tear them down.

Each one of their secrets were dug up and shown into the world, not one was safe after bringing such a pitiful look in your face.

So please don't look at her with such eyes, can't you see she was just trying to protect you?

[Pov: Ayato.]

If there was one thing Ayato disliked the most it would be unruly subordinates.

They would usually be taught better or taken out of their position but he never expected one to slip through the cracks just so they can cancel your collaboration.

So you can rest assured as Ayato never hated you, not once. Though he wasn't above using this as a reason to lure you out as an apology.

No need to stress yourself out anymore. See? The perpetrator is being punished right there.

Now, you will get along with him Ayaka, and Thoma, right?

━━━━➳༻❀✿❀༺➳━━━━

✧•° 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒..~°•✧

║➳ 𝐼𝑑𝑜𝑙!6𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒 : ♪ 𝑆𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑒/𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑟, 𝑋𝑖𝑎𝑜, 𝑉𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖, 𝐾𝑎𝑧𝑢ℎ𝑎, 𝐴𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝐻𝑒𝑖𝑧𝑜𝑢 ♪

║➳ 𝑃𝑜𝑣: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 [𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒] 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑'𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙. 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡.

— 𝑚𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙 𝑎𝑢, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑦 

◤✎...◢ ʜɪ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ! ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ,ɴᴊᴏʏ!~

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

『✦』𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞/𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫

ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵉᶜᵒⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵘᵖˡᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵒˢᵗᵉⁿᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒᵘˢ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʳᶜᵃˢᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ, ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ. ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡⁱᵃʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵘⁿʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳⁱᵗʸ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ᵉⁿᵗᵒᵘʳᵃᵍᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵃ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵈⁱʳᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵉˣᶜˡᵘˢⁱᵛᵉˡʸ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳᵉˡʸ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵉˡˡ⁻ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒʳ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ⁱⁿ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʰᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘᵗʰ, ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵗʳᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵇᵃⁿᵈᵒⁿᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˢᶜᵃʳˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳᵉᵐᵘˡᵒᵘˢˡʸ ʰᵒˡᵈ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ. ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ᵒʳ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ, ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒᵒ. ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʷʰʸ, ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ, ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿᵗⁱᵐᵃᶜʸ, ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒʷ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃᵛᵒⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵖⁱᶜ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘᵐᵖᵗᵉᵉⁿᵗʰ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵘʳᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵃˡˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵃᵍᵉⁿᶜⁱᵉˢ, ᵃᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ, ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰ ʷᵃˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵃ ˢᵗᵉᵖ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈˢ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴴᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ʳᵃⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵃˡᵐ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ, ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ, ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵃⁿᵗ ʷᵃʸ.

ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ, ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ⁻ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏ ˡᵒᵘᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ, ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ˡᵒᵘᵈ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉˢ. ᵂʰᵉⁿ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ᵖᵘˡˡˢ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵘⁿᶜᵉʳᵗᵃⁱⁿᵗʸ, ˢᵗᵘᵈʸⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᶜᵉʳᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵈᵉᵍʳᵉᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉʳⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵃˢˢᵉˢˢ ʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢ. ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃˢ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵃ ʰᵃᵇⁱᵗ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒʳ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ. ᵀʰᵉʳᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ, ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵉᵃˢᵉ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰᵒʷ ˢᵉʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵒʳ ⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃʷᵃʸ, ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ. ᴴᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇˡᵘˢʰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᶠʳᵒʷⁿ, ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵉᵃˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃᵛᵒⁱᵈ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ.

ᴴᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵈᵃʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵒʳ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵖʳⁱⁿᶜⁱᵖˡᵉ, ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ. ᵀʰᵉ ᵐᵃˣⁱᵐᵘᵐ ⁱˢ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵒʳ ʰᵘᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵐᵒⁿᵍ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵒʳ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘᵖ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒⁿᵍ⁻ˡᵃˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ʰᵉ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶜᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ. ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ, ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵛᵒᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ⁽ᵒʳ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢ⁾, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵒʳⁿᵉʳ ᵒʳ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵉᵐᵖᵗʸ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᵗˡʸ, ᵖᵃˢˢⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᵐᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ, ᶜʳᵘˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢʷᵉˡˡ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ. ᴴᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵃʷᵏʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵒ ʳᵘᵈᵉ, ˢᵒ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ, ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ, ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱᶜᵃˡ ᵖʰʳᵃˢᵉˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗˡʸ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵐᵘᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ. ᴵⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒᵖⁱⁿⁱᵒⁿ, ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ˢʷᵒˡˡᵉⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵃ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ.

ᴾ.ˢ ⁻ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵘʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵉᵛᵉʳᵃˡ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ, ʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʷᵃʸ, ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃⁿˢ. ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢʸ. ᴼᵗʰᵉʳʷⁱˢᵉ, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ.

『✦』𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

ᴴᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢⁱᵐⁱˡᵃʳ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ. ˣⁱᵃᵒ ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵃᵗᵉ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ⁱⁿᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵇˡʸ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒⁿᵉˡⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵛᵉʳʸ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ. ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵃʳᵐᵗʰ, ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ, ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵏⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ˡᵘˡˡᵃᵇʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃⁿⁱᶜ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜᵏˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ, ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ. ᵀʰᵉʳᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ, ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ, ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃᵇⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᶠᵃⁿˢ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵃʳᵐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒʳ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵏᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᶜᵃʳᵉᵉʳ. ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃˡˡ, ʰᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᵍⁱʳˡ ⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵈᵃⁿᵍᵉʳᵒᵘˢ. ᴬⁿᵈ ᵖʳᵉᶜⁱˢᵉˡʸ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳˢᵘᵃˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ, ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʷᵒ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉʳˢᵘᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗʳʸ. ᴬˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ, ˢᵒ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛᵉ ⁱⁿ ʳᵒᵐᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᶠⁱᵈᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˡˡ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈᵒᵉˢ.

ᴬᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ, ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵒᶠ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ. ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ˢˡᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ, ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˣⁱᵃᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵒ ˢᶜᵃʳʸ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ. ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵗⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃʳᵐᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ. ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ᵃ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ, ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵃᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿˢᵉᶜᵘʳⁱᵗʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ.

ᴬᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ, ˣⁱᵃᵒ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃˢᵏ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵛᵉʳᵇᵃˡˡʸ ᵒʳ ⁿᵒⁿ⁻ᵛᵉʳᵇᵃˡˡʸ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ. ᴴⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵛᵒʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵖˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ, ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵗʰᵉᵐ. ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵐᵖʳⁱⁿᵗ ᵃ ᶠᵉᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⁻ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒʳ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʷʳⁱˢᵗˢ. ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ˢⁱᵐᵖˡᵉ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵉᵉᵖˡʸ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴬᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁱᶜᵘˡᵃʳˡʸ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ, ˣⁱᵃᵒ ᵖʳᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵃʸ, ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᶠʳᵃᵍⁱˡᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᶜʳʸˢᵗᵃˡ. ᴺᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒʳ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ, ˣⁱᵃᵒ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ. ᴮᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉˢ, ʰᵉ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛᵉˢ ʷᵃˢ ʳᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉᵈ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵏ, ʰⁱˢ ʳᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘⁿˢʰⁱⁿᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢʰᵃᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱᶠ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ.

『✦』𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

ᵂⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ — ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢʰᵃᵐᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ ᵒʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ, ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱˡᵐⁱⁿᵍ. ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳˡᵃᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵖ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵒˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ, ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃˢᵗᵉ "ᴱˢᵏⁱᵐᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ". ᵀʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʳᵘᵇˢ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵒˢᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃʳᵐ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᶠˡᵉᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉˢˢ, ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵘⁿᵈⁱˢᵍᵘⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵃᵈᵒʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ. ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ˡⁱᶠᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒⁿᵉˡʸ, ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᵃ ʳᵉᵃˡ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ.

ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᵈⁱᵒ ᵒʳ ᵃᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉ, ʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵘᵐˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵍᵘⁱᵗᵃʳ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ, ʰᵘᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵒˡᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ' ˢᵃᵏᵉ. ᴮᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵍᵘⁱᵗᵃʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵈᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵖᵃʳᵗʸ. ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿᵉᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᶜᵃʳᵉᵉʳ. ᵀʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉˣᵗˢ ʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗᵗᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᶜᵉ. ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ, ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉˡᵃˣⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳᵗ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒᶻᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘⁱᵗᵃʳ, ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉˡᵒᵈʸ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉᵃʳ ⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸˡⁱˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᶠᵃⁿˢ. ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ, ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ.

ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ⁱˢ ˢᵒ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ʰᵉ ˢᵘᶜᶜᵘᵐᵇˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘʳᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳᵉʰᵉᵃᵈ. ᴴⁱˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵗᵃⁿᵉᵒᵘˢ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃʳʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ. ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉˢ, ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ʰᵒᵖᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱⁿᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵖʳⁱᵃᵗᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ, ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᶜᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ.

ᵂʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵉᵖᵃʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵘᵗⁱᵉˢ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ,, ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ, ᵛⁱᵈᵉᵒˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ. ᴵᶠ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳᵗ, ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶠᵘⁿⁿʸ ˢᵗⁱᶜᵏᵉʳˢ ᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃʳᵉ ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ'ˢ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ. ᴮᵘᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ, ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉⁿˢᵃᵗᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ. ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵇᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵗᵉᶠᵘˡ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᶠᵘˡ ᵍⁱʳˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᶜⁱᵖʳᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʷᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈⁱᶠᶠⁱᶜᵘˡᵗⁱᵉˢ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ᵗᵒ ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵃˢ ˢᵒᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ.

『✦』𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉᵐᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵒᵐᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ. ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖᵃˡᵐˢ, ˡᵒᵒᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉˢ, ˢᵖᵒⁿᵗᵃⁿᵉᵒᵘˢˡʸ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵖᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒʳ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵉˡⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉ ˢᵏⁱⁿ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ. ᴴᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗᶠᵒʳʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵒˡᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᵠᵘⁱᵉᵗ ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠˡⁱʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᶠⁱⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵃᵈᵒʳᵃᵇˡᵉ.

ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵛᵒʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵖ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒʳ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉ. ᴴᵉ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ᵉⁿᶜᵒᵘʳᵃᵍᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵃⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ. ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵛᵉʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵉᵛᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉˢⁱʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉˡʸ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ, ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ. ᴴᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ʰᵃˢ ᵃ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉⁿᶜʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ⁿᵉᶜᵏ. ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʰᵘᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵖʳᵒˣⁱᵐⁱᵗʸ, ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵉˢˢ ʰᵉʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵏⁱˢˢ. ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵘᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵖˡᵉⁿⁱˢʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ᶠⁱˡᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ.

ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵃˡᵐ ᵈᵉᵐᵉᵃⁿᵒʳ, ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ᵗᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ. ᴰᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ʰᵉ ᵐᵃʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵇⁱᵗᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵒʷᵉʳ ˡⁱᵖ ᵒʳ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒʳⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ, ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ ᵒʳ ᶠᵒʳᵉʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ. ᴴᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵒᵘᵗʳᵃᵍᵉᵈ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵉᵃˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ. ᴵⁿ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡ, ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵒᶠᵗ, ᶠᵘˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ. ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵖᵒᵉᵐˢ ⁽ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˡʸʳⁱᶜˢ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒʳ ᵇʸ ᵂᵉⁿᵗⁱ⁾ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʰʸˢⁱᶜᵃˡ ⁱⁿᵗⁱᵐᵃᶜʸ. ᴴᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿᵗⁱᵐᵃᵗᵉ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ, ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ⁱˢ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁿᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ. ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵒⁿⁿᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵐᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵒᵐᵉ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵒʷⁿˢ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱᵉˢᵗ.

『✦』𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

ᴴᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ, ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱˢᵗᵉʳ, ᴸᵘᵐⁱⁿ, ʰᵃˢ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ. ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵇʸ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵍᵘˡᵃʳˡʸ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡˡʸ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ, ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ˡᵒᵛᵉ. ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵒᵒˢᵉ, ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢᵃʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵛᵒʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ⁱⁿᵗⁱᵐᵃᶜʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ.

ᴰᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ᴵᵗᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʷʳᵃᵖ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵃʳᵐ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵗⁱˡᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵖᵒˢⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᶜʰᵃˢᵗᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᶠⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵘᶜʰ ʷᵃʳᵐᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ, ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ. ᵀʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳˡʸ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᵐᵃⁿⁿᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᶻᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱʳᵉᶜᵗˢ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈⁱʳᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ — ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ "ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵒⁿᵉ", ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒ ᶠᵃⁿˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ. ᴵᵗ ᵐᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵘⁿᶠᵃⁱʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁿˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ, ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱˢ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᶜᵃʳᵉᵉʳ. ᴬⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʰᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ, ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈʳᵃᵍᵍᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᴵˢᵗʳⁱᵃ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ⁿᵉʳᵛᵒᵘˢ, ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢʰʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵃʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗⁱᶠʸ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵖᵒʳᵗᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉˢ ᵐᵉˡᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᴵᵗᵉʳ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ. ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ⁱᵗ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳⁱᵗʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ⁱˢ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵏᵃʸ.

ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿⁿᵒᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛⁱᵒʳ, ˢⁱᵐⁱˡᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵗʳⁱᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁽ʷᵉˡˡ, ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ ʰᵃⁱʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿⁿᵒᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵃʳⁱˢᵒⁿ, ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ?⁾, ᴵᵗᵉʳ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵉʳᵗᵃⁱⁿˡʸ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ʰᵒᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵃˢˢⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵉˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᵗ. ᴬᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ, ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵘⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢʰᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ. ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈˡʸ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃᵗ ᶠʳᵉⁿᶜʰ ᵏⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷᵃʸˢ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵗʷⁱⁿᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵃⁿᵗ ʷᵃʸ, ᵖᵘˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʳᵘⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁱʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵗʳⁱᶜᵏˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵃˡⁱᵛᵃ ᶜᵒⁿⁿᵉᶜᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰˢ. ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ, ᴵᵗᵉʳ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉʳˢ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵃᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᶜᵉ. ᴴᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗʷᵒ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ — ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᶜᵒⁿᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ, ᵇᵘˢʸ ˢᶜʰᵉᵈᵘˡᵉ. ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᵐ ʷʰᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵗʳᵃᵛᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱˢ ᵖᵉʳˢᵘᵃᵈᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵈᵘᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵒᵘʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜⁱᵗⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉʳˢᵘᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ, ᵒᵗʰᵉʳʷⁱˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ⁻ʰᵃⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᵉ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵃⁿʸʷʰᵉʳᵉ. ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒᶠᶠ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷᵒʳᵏ ⁽ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵒᵐᵉ, ⁱᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢⁱᵉʳ⁾ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʸᵒᵘ, ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ. ᴮᵘᵗ ᵉˣᶜʰᵃⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ˡⁱᶠᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱˡˡˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᵗᵉʳᵐⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵠᵘⁱᶜᵏˡʸ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵘᵗⁱᵉˢ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ.

『✦』𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮

ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵖˡᵃʸᶠᵘˡ. ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ, ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ᵏⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿ, ᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ, ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ˢˡⁱᵖ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜˢ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇʸ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇˡᵘˢʰ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ʰᵒʷ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ. ᴺᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡˢᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ˢᵘᶜʰ ʲᵒʸ ᵃˢ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵘⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ.

ᴮᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃ ᵐⁱˢˢ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ.ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇʸ ˢʰᵒʷᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵘⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᴴᵉⁱᶻᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ "ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵐᵒʳᵉ?" ᴴᵉ ᵃᵈᵐⁱʳᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵘᵗˢᵐᵃʳᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇʸ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒʳ ᶠˡⁱʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴴᵉⁱᶻᵒᵘ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵉˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱˡˡ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ. ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ʰᵒᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉˢ, ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵒʳ ᵛᵘˡᵍᵃʳ ᵖʰʳᵃˢᵉˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉᵃʳ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵃᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ, ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵃˡᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ. ᴴᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ ⁱᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ, ᵗᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢᵗʳᵃᶜᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵉᵈᵈᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ, ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˢ ˢᵒᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵒʳᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ.

ᴴᵉⁱᶻᵒᵘ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉʳˢ ᶠˡᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʳᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿᵉˢ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵠᵘⁱᶜᵏ, ᵃˢ ⁱˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ. ᴰᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ, ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵉᵃʳᵇʸ, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃⁿ ᵒᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏⁱⁿ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ, ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ, ⁿᵉᶜᵏ, ᵃʳᵐˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ ⁻ ᵃⁿʸʷʰᵉʳᵉ. ᴴᵉ'ˡˡ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ⁱⁿᶜʰ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵃʳᵉ ˢᵏⁱⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗ ⁱᵗ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵍ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠʳᵉᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ. ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡᵇᵒʸ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵇʸ ᵗᵉᵃˢⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʸᵒᵘ. ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗⁱᶜᵏˡⁱˢʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵍʳⁱⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ. ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵇʳⁱᵍʰᵗᵉⁿˢ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵃʸ. ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᶠⁱˣᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵘᵖᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐᵃⁿᶜᵉ, ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵈᵉˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵛᵃⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʲᵒʸ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᵉʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃⁿˢ.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

@ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍʏ-ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴄᴀᴛ • ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪꜱᴇ, ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ! ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴀʏ ~ ♡

━━━━➳༻❀✿❀༺➳━━━━

✧•° 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔..~°•✧

║➳ 𝐼𝑑𝑜𝑙!6𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒 : ♪ 𝑆𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑒/𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑟, 𝑋𝑖𝑎𝑜, 𝑉𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖, 𝐾𝑎𝑧𝑢ℎ𝑎, 𝐴𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝐻𝑒𝑖𝑧𝑜𝑢 ♪

║➳ 𝑃𝑜𝑣: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 [𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒] 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑'𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙. 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡.

— 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒.

— 𝑚𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙 𝑎𝑢, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝

◤✎...◢ ʜɪ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ! ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ,ɴᴊᴏʏ!~

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

『✦』𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞/𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫

- 𝑉𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 7:55 𝑝.𝑚.

Usually you write to him first, but sometimes he can take the initiative and share something himself by writing or recording a voice message. But usually these are small messages about how he is, where and what he is doing. He also asks you the same thing during the day. It often reminds you to do something, eat or relax, adding at the end what an dummy you are to forget about such basic things. At the end of the day, he always writes that he has already finished and warns if something goes wrong and/or he'll be late.

Like this time, the dance practice dragged on until late in the evening, so Scaramouch would definitely write down to you that he would be late and he will record a voice message mentioning how tired he is and how his whole body aches. And he will complain that when he became an idol, he was not ready for the fact that he would have to suffer with learning choreography more than with recording songs. In the background, at the end of the message, Heizou's voice could be heard calling Scaramouch by some stupid nickname he had recently invented, teasing that if he did not hurry up, they would stay even longer.

"- How you all fucked me up. If you call me that again, I'll personally lock you in the back room with inventory for all exits! That's it, fuck off. I'm going home,you loser's. " It seems that it was the last straw for Scaramouch and he left slamming the door after throwing something at Heizou. Sometimes, because of his character, he and the team have some disagreements and disputes, but after a while, when he cools down, everything comes back to normal.

" - I'll be home in half an hour. Today we were with the team at the mall, I bought you your chocolate that you wanted to try and talked about the other day. I don't understand how you can eat this sugar crap. In general, I will try to return as soon as possible. I ... love you, I'll be home soon"

It seems he stayed alone and softened recording a second voice message for you, saying, albeit still confused and somehow uncertain, but so tenderly and tremulously his words about love for you.

『✦』𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

- 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒/𝑆𝑀𝑆. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 6:00 𝑝.𝑚

He usually writes a small message, briefly but to the point.

This time he would warn you that he will be a little late, because they are recording a song in the studio today, but that he will be returning home in an hour. He will ask how you are doing and, of course, in the end he will add that he missed you and loves you.

Recently, he began to add a smiley face to the words about love, because Venty once made a remark to him that not only does he write only on business, but that text also looks terribly dry. Xiao may have been annoyed at him for sticking his nose where he wasn't asked, but he took note worrying that you were thinking the same way. You thought it was very sweet.

"...I know we had plans to watch this movie together tonight, but it seems I'm going to be late. Sorry. I'll try to come back as soon as possible, I love you, light of my life♥️ "

『✦』𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

- 𝐿𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑/𝑜𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 6:00 𝑡𝑜 8:50 𝑝𝑚.

Venty always takes everything off. Whether they are recording a song, shooting a music video or during a break - he always sends you either voice or video messages in his free (or not at all) time. There can be 20 or more of them per day. He likes to share with you everything that is happening around him, because he believes that he is getting closer to you during.

And this time was no exception. Venty recorded several video messages with how they were doing choreography, how Scaramouche again got into a fight with Heizou because of his unsuccessful jokes about the blue-haired man, and in the last seconds of the message it was seen how Skara threw something at Heizou. The video ends here. The last one was a voice message that he was already on his way home and he had a gift for you.

" - I've already called a taxi and I'll be home soon, Windbloom. I missed you so much! By the way, I bought something for you today when I went to the mall with the guys during the break. I've missed you so much and I'm already flying to you on the wings of the wind! ~ See you soon, I love you~"

『✦』𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

- 𝑅𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 6:40 𝑝.𝑚.

Kazuha is still a romantic, so he often writes to you during the day if something impressed him and reminded him of you, or if he and the guys went somewhere, he wants to take you to a place that he liked. His messages are full of feelings and very gentle and sweet, it seems like that you are reading some kind of quote or excerpt from a book. In voice messages, even small ones, he also often talks about you. There was not a single message where he did not at least once say that he loves you and that he thinks of you, that you are his muse and inspire him.

You were planning to spend the evening together today, but unfortunately he was delayed at the recording studio of the song. That's why he warned you that he would be late and apologized for having to cancel plans for the evening.

"...I'm sorry about what happened, my love, please don't be bored. I will try to finish all the business as soon as possible. I will definitely compensate you for tonight ,on the next weekend, which we will spend just the two of us."

A minute later, he sent a voice message: "- And I love you~" He added that. You heard by his voice that Kazuha was tired, but he noticed that he had not written a word about love, so he hurried to record a voice message.

『✦』𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

- 𝐿𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑..𝐴 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙? 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑠 7:00 𝑝.𝑚

Oh, he's a tricky one, especially when it comes to you. Yes, he gives his best at work, during concerts, and in principle, he really treats his work with soul and zeal, sometimes even overdo it more than others. But still, he has his own "brakes" which are you. If Iter said that he would be at home specifically at such a time, he would be at home at that time. There was not a single case that he was late. Sometimes it's even embarrassing in front of the manager and the rest of the guys that your boyfriend treats time like that and often puts them in an awkward position if he need to stay somewhere and finish it, and he doesn't care and he goes home where you are waiting for him.

During the day, he can throw off cute stickers if he can't write to you at all, he also records a voice message telling you something and asking how you're doing, and that he misses you terribly and, as agreed, he will be home on time.

This time, during the shooting of the video, he and the team had to stay for a couple of hours and finish shooting, but, Aether it Aether. He had already gone home as soon as the hands on the clock reached 7:00 p.m. The manager just had to be indignant and think about how to get out of the situation while the idol was walking to the taxi talking to you on the phone. You asked several times if everything was okay, but he assured you that everything was fine and there would be no problems, and that it was time for you to get ready, as soon as he arrived you two would go on a date.

"Don't worry dear, everything is really fine. I'm already walking up to the car and I'll be home in 20 minutes. You should have packed up by now. I love you, I'll be there soon."

There were beeps, you just sighed, hoping that everything was really okay. As a result, the release of the video was delayed, but it didn't bother Aether at all, because it was important for him that he was able to spend the evening with his beloved.

But for the sake of decency, Aether really tries and gives his best during work, he comes to the studio before everyone else, so he leaves the same way earlier. He often additionally studies vocals or learns choreography and his parts, bringing everything to perfection, so that such antics are forgiven by virtue of his efforts.

『✦』𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮

- 𝑉𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠, 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠/𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 10:00 𝑝.𝑚.

Heizou often records something funny, flirts with you, and records funny voice messages with typical tackles. It used to embarrassing you a lot, but now you just laugh and think it's funny. He also often throws you photos or videos from tiktok with seals with the words "this is us" or "me and you". Also, Heizo writes every time you get bored or think about writing him yourself. It seems as if he reads your thoughts even without being around and easily anticipates your actions.

You knew that today they and the team were shooting a video for a new song, so you tried not to bother him, even though you were bored and sad alone. Usually you can keep yourself busy, but this evening the longing did not let you go for a very long time. You've been looking at the phone lying next to you for several minutes, and as soon as you picked it up, a notification came. You looked around, suspecting that cameras were installed at home because, well, how could he pick the moment so clearly again? Heizou recorded a voice message saying that he being a little late, but not much for a long time because there was one final scene left to finish. After sending a video message from the set, he himself stands in front of the mirror and winks and shows a smiling heart. You involuntarily blushed while smiling. How handsome he is in the chosen image for the clip.

" - I'll be a little late, but don't miss me too much there. I will be going home soon, it remains to finish the last scene. So, as soon as I get home, get ready, tomorrow is the day off, so tonight I won't let you fall asleep, I have big plans to show how much I love you and I'm going to pamper you so that you forget even your name~".

You were sitting all red, thinking what a sly fox and impudent he is. But you was looking forward to his return home, knowing that Heizou would definitely fulfill his promise.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

@ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍʏ-ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴄᴀᴛ • ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪꜱᴇ, ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ! ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴀʏ ~ ♡

Jealous Ayato

single or bouquet? (pt. 6)

✧ — navi.

✧ — word count. 166 (kokomi). 138 (gorou).

✧ — synopsis. you give them flowers ♥♥♥

✧ — content. → pure fluff, f l o w e r s

✧ — characters. kokomi. gorou.

kokomi !!

→ A parcel of bright azaleas and snowy white carnations. The azaleas signify for her to take care of herself and gratitude for everything she's done. Meanwhile, the white carnations represent her sweet and lovely nature.

→ +100 energy! The gift immediately reenergizes her for days to come. She can't help but giggle and blush over the parcel of flowers in your grip. Glancing away for a brief moment, she snatches it out of your hands and takes in their sweet scents. She sways from side to side and grins from ear to ear as she whispers a delicate thank you.

→ She places the flowers in a vase on her desk; and for days to come, she takes care of them as much as she can—occasionally having Gorou do it for her if she's too busy. When she returns to her office, she'll sigh and immediately feel at ease when she sniffs the flowers. Careful now—you might catch her hugging the vase of flowers on occasion!

gorou !!

→ A packet of sunflower seeds. Whenever he plants them and they grow to be taller than him, they'll represent your adoration for him and his loyalty to you.

→ His initial reaction is, "am I supposed to eat these?" and you can't help but laugh at his unintentional comedy. You tell him, "no, plant them!" and he does so. Although, he can't help but keep asking himself what the point of this is. He's grateful, regardless, giving you a hug and thank you.

→ Watatsumi isn't the best for growing things, but these flowers seem to pop right up and grow almost a meter taller than he. The morning they're that tall he gasps and stares up at the tall sunflowers with wide eyes. Then, before you know it, he's grinning from ear to ear and wagging up a storm.

"...Help me zip up"

Pairings: Characters x f!reader

Characters: Diluc, Zhongli, Thoma, Xiao, Albedo, Itto, Childe, Kaeya, Ayato, Kazuha

Synopsis: You ask your husband for help, what does he do?

Tags: Suggestive

Scenario: Hair styled nicely without a single stray strand in place, face looking smooth and glowing, neck and ears adorned with elegant accessories, everything seems to be in place except for your dress. You wear the black dress that was prepared earlier and slip your body in it. The dress hugs your figure perfectly, you insert your arms around the holes and place the straps on your shoulders. You attempt to zip up the back of the dress but it really is testing your flexibility. Still, you manage to get it halfway done but you can't continue it anymore up to the nape. Struggling for a good few minutes; you can't help but call for your helper husband.

"Babe! Help me!" You call for him and he immediately opens the door and freezes at the sight of your bare back and nape showed to him.

He strides over to you and you turn to look at the mirror, his fingers touch the zipper, and you shiver. Can you trust your husband to zip it up? After all, he's a horndog so...

He zips it up:

— Diluc, Zhongli, Thoma, Xiao, Albedo, Kazuha —

He zips up the zipper and presses a kiss on the side of your head. His warmth embraces you as you both look lovingly at each other in the mirror. He then buries his head on your hair and comments. "You smell so good, I wanna stay with you here and do nothing." He whispers and bites your ear playfully while you whine and laugh.

"Stop it! I prepared so much for this, we'll be late." You squish his cheeks and reason with him. Fingers are entwined as he takes it off his face and kisses the back of your palm. Your heart jumps at the sweet gesture; years married and still acting like a high school couple.

"You're so old-fashioned, I wonder why I even married you." You playfully roll your eyes at him and he laughs. He abruptly pulls you to your surprise and holds your waist tightly. His breath tickles your ear making you bite your lip from suppressing the excitement.

"I guess I made a mistake of zipping it up." His voice sexily enchants you as you feel the dress getting looser.

He unzips it:

— Itto, Childe, Kaeya, Ayato —

"Oh my-" You couldn't even finish your sentence as your husband aggressively pulls down the zipper. making you wonder if his horny ass broke the dress. Your bodies are pressed against each other and hungry kisses initiate as he forces his tongue down to you. His hand moves from your cheek to the straps of your dress and pulls it down, revealing you in your lingerie that was supposed to be saved for tonight.

He stops kissing you, giving you a moment to catch your breath; he takes a few steps back and squints his eye, jokingly moving his upper body from place to place as if inspecting you. Who could blame him? His lovely wife was in a sexy lingerie with an annoyed expression reserved for his playfulness.

"Are you done checking me out now?" You ask smugly and move towards him, tugging his tie. In turn, he grips your chin upwards and puts on an expression that he knows makes you weak at the knees.

He smirks and predator-like eyes look down at you as if you were a feast he would devour.

"Can you put on a show for me? I mean you're already dressed for the part." He shrugs and spanks your ass making you yelp.

a/n: this is not full blown smut but I think suggestive themes generally belong in the smut category soooo.