#but here’s the essay.
This essay? Can you call this an essay? Surely you could but, you’re reading this on a tumblr post, so for now let’s call it an essay. This essay is going to be breaking down the cinematography techniques Sausage used in the opening to episode thirty one of his second Empires SMP season. I’m also going to go into why these work so well, and what they imply, a fair warning, this will be long, and I’m taking this 100% seriously. I’ll be using the correct terms for the things I’m talking about too, I’ll presumably have a list of definitions at the end of the post, and if it gets too long and I decide to not include that this link has every definition I will have used in this essay. Now that’s out of the way, let’s start from the beginning.
I’d like to first talk about the music, this is the first thing that really hit me when I was watching the episode for the first time (and the multiple rewatches I’ve done of the intro since then), and the effect it has on the person watching it depending on prior knowledge to Octagon as a whole.
Firstly, viewers of Ren and Doc’s season 8 will know that Octagon’s signature for their ‘cutscene’ music was very heavy metal inspired, it’s powerful music that The Octagon is absolutely deserving of, its intense sound helps the viewers understand what Ren and Doc are trying to portray. Octagon was built to utilise lightning as a powersource and employed game breaking technology in game to create some of its prominent features (Power Node 1, The OctaPortal, ect). Because of this, the shift to orchestral music as it’s introduction in Sausages opening is so incredibly interesting. Strings take the forefront of the music Sausage uses here, and strings are often used to portray elegance and grandiose, something Octagon wasn’t given in Season 8 itself. Octagon was threatening, but never elegant, always being added to, that process of violent construction the heavy metal symbolised is gone here, there’s nothing being added to The Octagon. And the music crescendos with each panning shot, emphasising the power this place holds, even just aesthetically, getting more and more powerful as it rises like a Wave. The dichotomy between Octagon's previous violent, aggressive and powerful portrayal through the music Ren and Doc use, and the elegant, imposing orchestral music Sausage uses, both to portray the same thing, is incredible. Octagon was awarded its elegance in death, and the music choices here reflect this beautifully.
People who never watched season 8, who have no idea what Octagon's whole deal was, are seeing this place in its tomb. It's an elegant coffin and that’s all they’ll know it for unless they go and watch season 8, and I think that’s wonderful, because it’s what Octagon deserved.
Next I’d like to draw attention to the shots in the opening itself, so we’ll start and progress through these in chronological order.
Firstly, we have a sweeping shot of the Lower left side of octagon, containing the base for the elevated boardroom, and the fully charged central power node, it’s an incredibly strong start to the episode, with the scale of Octagon being shown through the height of the warped vines that cover the islands floor. The wide angle shot used in this scene helps make the viewer feel small and vulnerable in comparison to the powerful elegance of The Octagons architecture.
It then cuts to another, fairly low angle shot of the bridge, the sun is positioned behind the massive mechanical bacteriophage that holds up Octagon’s bridge, this shot utilises and amazing use of chiaroscuro and creates a sense of unease in the viewer, the blotting out of the light and the emphasis on the size of the structure continues to aide the threatening aura Sausage is clearly trying to portray. Both these shots (as well as many many other shots in this opening, utilise the ocean as a means to portray scale, the ocean is usually seen as quite a large and domineering thing, you can’t get much bigger than the ocean, however, due to the framing of the shots the ocean and surrounding landmass The Octagon sits on, completely dwarfs the viewable ocean. And it helps create a beautiful sense of unease, and powerlessness.
The next shot is my favourite in the entire opening, a tight, zoom shot of the inside of Octagon itself, the sleek glass flooring reflects the dark walls of The Octagon itself, and it really truly does present itself as an grandiose structure just due to the use of shaders, the slow zoom into the center of Octagon itself; It’s almost reminiscent of the evil lair in a spy movie. Octagon looks sleek, polished, the high walls and the tight shot create almost an air of claustrophobia, that’s only offset by Octagon's open roof plan, and the sheer scale of it, knowing the walls visible are three walls of eight. This shot really helps establish Octagon as a powerhouse and to indulge in a little anthropomorphism, a Baroness.
Our fourth shot is an Aerial view, with a high angle shot, a slow zoom out from the LOGZ Crane and its cargo. This high positioned zooming out from a central point really helps gauge a sense of scale here, only one and a half walls of the overall structure are shown in this shot, once again, using Octagon itself, and now the LOGZ Crane to dwarf both the island and the ocean around it. Our music is rising too as these sweeping shots help guide the eye to the important parts of the shot, adding to the mise en scene of the opening.
Moving on to the 5th shot in the opening, I’m actually going to talk about the music some more here, but this shot, a beautiful zoom shot of the bridge, covered by the calcite coral reef, is paired expertly with the introduction of a louder brass instrument in the orchestral score, these two elements together contribute to help provide that dramatic, powerful flair that Sausage is trying to convey in each of these shots. The music here perfectly fits the pace of the shot when paired with the illusion at a deep focus shot here on the Phange (sadly something not possible within the world of Minecraft). This continues to build up this sense of vulnerability and powerlessness in seeing The Octagon rising up out of the ocean. Sausage utilises a quick switch from a shallow depth of feel to a deep depth of field to create the illusion of a deep focus shot on the Bridge.
We now come to another of my favourite shots. Octagon’s right wall, with a slow pull out, with its name etched in the side in Bright Blue Copper. Once again the ocean is used to portray the sheer size of The Octagon here, with liminal land viewable, all these ocean shots help to aid a sense of loneliness that each of these shots have been oozing out. The Octaportal is visible in this shot, and very briefly, so is Sausage, the inclusion of Sausage himself is a powerful tool too, He’s almost unnoticeable against the sharp spires and spindly legs of Octagon, and it really does aid to this Real sense of unease, scale and the aforementioned vulnerability.
Here we get the near climax of our crescendo, the wave of music has ramped up as we focus our attention on Sausage, a close up shot on him that barely lasts a second, but is so important. Sausage is our protagonist here, He’s the character we see the world through, who we must trust to portray things as they are. He should be the most important thing in this shot, and yet our camera pulls out, and he is rendered unimportant against the violent architecture of The Octagon. Sausage isn’t important here, he’s a spec on the impact of this world, a visitor, an observer; and this sprawling, wide angled shot portrays this Perfectly. Sausage is not who we should be turning our gaze to here.
And at last our final shot. We are greeted with a tight centered view of the OctaPortal itself, a creation only possible through game breaking, a feat of this size deserves its own shot, we have another zoom in, a centered shot focusing entirely on the portal itself, where Ren emerges from, his clothing a stark contrast against the purple of the portal, Ren is in the Center of the shot. He is who we must pay attention to, he created half of this insane structure, in its threatening elegance and our focus is drawn to him.
However, in these two shots, an interesting thing happens. Our zoom out from the Sausage shows the scale of The Octagon. But the zoom in to Ren, focuses him in the shot, and yet never allows him to take up a large portion of it, it’s symbolic of how this was a monumental task, the workload and goal Doc and Ren carried on their shoulders was meant to be shared, not shouldered alone.
All of this together carefully rewraps Octagon, and gives it the recognition it deserved. Octagon was a Monumental feat, a beautiful mix of jagged violent architecture and classy elegance. This will be some peoples first introductions to The Octagon. This behemoth of a Building style, of a story, shared between Doc and Ren. And it feels cathartic to me as someone who holds Season 8 and The Octagon close to my heart, to have it be shown in the way, I presume, Ren and Doc wanted to present it too. It’s an amazingly well edited opening, the timings with the music and reveals of each section are utterly amazing, and Sausage, whether he intended to or not, created a beautiful homage to a silly corporation; that whilst it made no money, looked positively cool as shit
114 notes
·
View notes
"A story doesn't need a theme in order to be good" I'm only saying this once but a theme isn't some secret coded message an author weaves into a piece so that your English teacher can talk about Death or Family. A theme is a summary of an idea in the work. If the story is "Susan went grocery shopping and saw a weird bird" then it might have themes like 'birds don't belong in grocery stores' or 'nature is interesting and worth paying attention to' or 'small things can be worth hearing about.' Those could be the themes of the work. It doesn't matter if the author intended them or not, because reading is collaborative and the text gets its meaning from the reader (this is what "death of the author" means).
Every work has themes in it, and not just the ones your teachers made you read in high school. Stories that are bad or clearly not intended to have deep messages still have themes. It is inherent in being a story. All stories have themes, even if those themes are shallow, because stories are sentences connected together for the purpose of expressing ideas, and ideas are all that themes are.
28K notes
·
View notes
𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo
𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.
𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).
a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here
p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!
"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.
your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”
he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."
clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.
you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.
he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."
“what are y—“
“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”
"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.
he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."
you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"
he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."
two can play that game.
“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.
he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.
or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.
"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.
you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”
you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.
“satoru—”
“what happened to nicknames?”
“satoru.”
"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"
"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."
"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”
"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"
“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”
“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.
his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”
“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”
“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”
you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“
he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“
you tsk, making him drop his excuse.
“wh—“
"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.
you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.
before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.
the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.
“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.
"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."
you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”
“i love you more.”
2K notes
·
View notes
🚗💨🥂✨
Original idea from this tweet
3K notes
·
View notes
Past and Future
1K notes
·
View notes
day 1421
2K notes
·
View notes
this totally didnt take me. checks wall clock. like at least 8 hours. ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!! ive been meaning to do this template for ages ! twas very fun working/reworking designs i already had or making whole new ones like for scott. a lot of these hybrid headcanons change whenever i feel like it lol but i went with the cuter ones (like fox etho) for this ^^!
870 notes
·
View notes
its weird how as israelis, or even just as jews in general, as soon as you extend sympathy towards the people who were massacred on october 7th u immediately get blamed for "supporting israel" and "not holding your state accountable".
when its like. WE are the ones who have been fighting non-stop to make our government and military officials take responsibility for this. WE have been begging our leaders to take accountability while u guys are sitting there overseas typing out shit like "its actually okay to murder babies as long as theyre settler babies"
1K notes
·
View notes
now to my fave minecraft worldbuilding topic
what can you cook? what's edible? what's possible with enough imagination?
I'd like to start with things that are present in-game (vanilla), first, the foods and drinks (ingredients too), having a loaf of bread with a nice mushroom stew seasoned with dandelions for breakfast is an option taken straight from the game
now let's say that I take the apples, wheat, milk, sugar and eggs to make an apple pie, that isn't in the game, but it's something possible to craft
in an extend things like salt can exist because the presence of sea water, same as things like bacon (pigs), cheese (milk) and so on
what if I throw the existing leaves in hot water to make tea?
or since all the dyes have an organic source can I make a rainbow cake?
how you cook things must be important too I imagine, maybe steak cooked in the smoker tastes way better than cooked with a fire aspect sword
6K notes
·
View notes
Imo the most impressive thing Leo’s done is hold this pose for as long as he did while covered head to toe in gold paint:
704 notes
·
View notes
temults ⚡️
1K notes
·
View notes
Songs sung in T voices? You mean just regular male voices because trans men are men
imagine being so miserable that you see a post about trans joy and pride in transmasculinity and the first thing you think is “i’m going to find a way to see this as transphobia instead”.
i have a t voice. my voice is distinctly different from most cis men’s voices in a way that a lot of other trans people’s voices are distinctly different after being on t. a lot of us have voices with a unique quality to them. the claim that me, a trans man with a t voice, talking about voices like mine somehow implies that my own gender isn’t real…is just fucking wild, honestly.
i think t voices are BEAUTIFUL. i love them so much, having my own voice sound like that was genuinely one of the things i was the most excited about when i started t because to me, that voice is the kind i heard when i watched videos made by other trans guys that taught me about what was possible for me and met other trans guys irl for the first time and got advice on transitioning or just life from them. it’s such a comforting sound and so important to me.
nothing about recognizing that distinctive quality implies that trans men aren’t real men. i have a t voice just like i have a deep voice, a quiet voice, a tonally expressive voice — it’s just a descriptor for one of many things that can make a voice unique. my voice is a “male voice” and it’s also a t voice because i’m a man whose voice has been affected by going on t in a distinctive way. the two aren’t in any way at odds with each other.
if i described my chest as a post-op chest, would you come into my inbox saying “you mean just a regular male chest?” i have a feeling you probably wouldn’t because on some level, even you get that talking about unique parts of living in a trans body doesn’t invalidate who we are. it’s fine if you personally wouldn’t want to describe your voice that way because it makes you dysphoric or isn’t applicable to your voice or isn’t as meaningful to you, but that doesn’t mean it’s morally incorrect for me to do so.
trans bodies are wonderful. visible (or in this case, audible) transness is wonderful. it’s not a bad thing to have features that are distinctively trans, and having those features doesn’t make you less of a man. we don’t have to reject our transness or be exactly like cis men to be real men because cis manhood isn’t the gold standard, it’s just one of many ways to be a man.
(also, not everyone who goes on t is a trans man, so not every t voice is a male voice. it’s funny how the people who get mad at me for being proud of my t voice are always the same ones who have really gender essentialist and binaristic views on transitioning.)
so no, i don’t mean “regular male voices”, i mean fucking t voices because that was a post about unashamed in-your-face proud transmasculinity, not transmasculinity that tries to make itself indistinguishable from cis manhood. please keep your assimilationist bullshit away from my trans joy, thank you very much.
807 notes
·
View notes
i think one of the least used concepts in elder scrolls lore is its nebulous relationship to truth.
like something i do actually appreciate about that cunt kirkbride's writing in morrowind is that the mythology of the tribunal is allowed to be relatively ambiguous and there's room for poetry and fable and unreliable narrators. there's a strong general tendency in both fandom and dev to interpret lore quite literally and treat every text as reliable sources of fact about tamriel even when the text is like. fiction or written with a clear bias towards certain factions or prejudices.
the main example I'm thinking of is the 'notes on racial phylogeny' lore book. it's literally just racist pseudoscience and in a real life context would be considered unreliable and deeply offensive. but in tes, i rarely see anyone stop to actually consider that perhaps this lore isn't really a factual study of how bodies work but about how the imperial empire categorises the people it colonises and justifies it's supremacy. there's so much focus on determining the rules and metaphysical aspects of the world that there's no consideration that the way factions like the empire see the world is inherently flawed.
it's fun to think of a world where stars are literal holes punched in the fabric of the sky, or that water is made of memory, but i also think it would be a much more fun and flexible world if these theories are considered to be just a few of many lenses that people in tamriel use to try to understand their world. some of my favourite pieces of lore and world building are things like 'cherims heart of anequina' that imply a rich world of culture and art; i love the idea that tamriel has art and art critics and people who discuss ideas for other purposes than trying to figure out what's The Only True Lore.
600 notes
·
View notes
i like to think goth is a gender in of itself
859 notes
·
View notes
× even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]
× info [ cult au + imposter au + focalors + neuvillette ]
× warnings [ empty ]
× word count [ 1.9k ]
× previous [ 1 ]
This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.
She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.
But it'd been almost a week since then.
The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.
That counted for something.
Not much, but something!
..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.
There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.
She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.
So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.
Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.
Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.
Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.
She really didn't like it.
There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.
She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.
She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.
That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.
Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.
But he wasn't.
He was out running her nation, instead.
And what was she doing? Nothing!
She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.
Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.
Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.
..She wasn't ready.
What was she supposed to say?
Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?
She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.
For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.
Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.
Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.
It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.
"Focalors?"
The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.
She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.
"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"
The silence is deafening.
She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!
"Lady Furina?"
Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.
"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.
Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.
Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.
"Why aren't you killing me?"
The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.
She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.
"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."
The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.
He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.
..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?
How unfair.
"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"
She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.
..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.
She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.
For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.
Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.
For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.
Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.
She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.
She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.
She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.
"Again."
948 notes
·
View notes