#cruelty of the beast ch. 16
Text
Cruelty of the Beast - Part 16
( previous. )
-----
Characters: c!Puffy, c!Phil, c!Techno, c!Dream
Word count: 1776
Content: blood, violence, mention of war, brief family reunion, major character death, grief
-----
Puffy scours the ‘battlefield’. There are already explosions being set off around her, with buildings being destroyed. In the days between Quackity finding Tommy and now, she has to wonder if they’d snuck back to plant more TNT.
Or had they come beforehand?
Around her, people are screaming and running. People she wouldn’t normally give a second glance to, but she recognizes a few of them, in varying states of panic and anger. Niki goes flying past her with an iron sword, and Hbomb is following behind, shouting for everyone to follow him.
Puffy considers joining the pair, but she marches along the prime path, wincing at every explosion happening nearby. She doesn’t know where Tubbo or Quackity are, and she has no idea where Sam went.
Puffy hopes her friends are safe.
The dragon is a lot closer now, and Puffy’s starting to realize how big it actually is. Dread pools in her stomach, causing her to stop and stare up at the sky. Everything else is background noise for a split second, as all she can see are those menacing purple eyes, and the purple fog that the dragon breathes out.
When someone jostles her, Puffy lurches forward and turns to see who is next to her. It’s Phil. Phil’s already armed with a sword, though he’s using his hand to push her back.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Puffy,” Phil says. “But that dragon doesn’t discriminate.”
Reaching into her inventory, Puffy immediate dons her armor. It’s all iron, as she hadn’t had a chance to craft netherite yet. She keeps her gaze on Phil though, watching every movement.
Her sword though, that’s made of netherite. Pulling that out next, Puffy lifts her sword, pointing the tip in his direction while also stepping back. “I’m not running,” she insists. “You’re all insane, you know that?”
Phil merely grins. “I was trying to give you a chance,” he responds. “I’m more than happy to cause chaos. Done it before, doing it again.”
“Haven’t you done enough damage?” Puffy asks. “The last time you caused this much damage, we lost an entire country. Your son built that!”
“My son?” Phil tilts his head to the side, letting a brief silence settle over them. “Correct my memory here if I’m mistaken. You were there at the prison the day Dream broke out, right? Tommy and Ranboo both said everyone was there.”
“Do not talk to me about Tommy!” Puffy snaps. “You all hurt him, over and over again!”
“Were you or were you not there?”
“I want you all to take your dragon and leave us alone,” Puffy says stubbornly. “We did nothing to you.”
“Anyway.” He’s speaking as if she hadn’t said anything. “You all watched Wilbur exit the prison. Wil, who worked with Dream long before his death, long before the revolution. They were apparently in cahoots when Pogtopia was operational. This wasn’t my idea.”
“You can’t blame Wilbur for that,” Puffy snaps. “He wasn’t in his right mind! He needed help and no one was-”
She cuts herself off there. Something is shifting into place in her mind, and she doesn’t like what conclusion she’s reaching. Rather than dwell on it, she drops her sword and attempts to do something she probably shouldn’t:
She lunges for Phil with her fist. She should have remembered that Phil is far older than her, with far more practice, and far more allies on his side that the last time he set off explosives. He’s side stepping her, and within a blink, he’d moved behind her, twisting her arm behind her back.
Struggling against his grip, Puffy starts swearing loudly. “Let me go! I swear I won’t hesitate to kill you!”
“You really think you can kill him with your bare hands?” That voice isn’t Phil’s, it’s Techno’s. He steps within her line of sight, smiling wildly. He looks wild, eyes far too wide, smile too big with too many teeth showing. This is clearly his idea of a fun time, and Puffy nearly recoils.
“I can sure as hell try,” she mutters through clenched teeth. “After what all of you did to Tommy, I’d love to see all of you burn in your own dragon’s magic breath.”
Techno starts laughing. “You think Tommy was being held against his will or we dragged him here kicking and screaming?”
Puffy wants to hold onto the mental image of Tommy. Sweet, obnoxious Tommy who always had a witty retort ready and a fire in his eyes. She wants to still hold out hope that Tommy will return to her. Them.
“This was Tommy’s idea,” Techno continues. “ See, he was pissed about Quackity shooting him with an arrow. Sure, it was an accident, but you know what they say about a broken person with nothing left to lose.”
She doesn’t want to hear any more. This is slander. Techno had always hated Tommy, she’s sure of it. Rather than lash out verbally, Puffy kicks her leg up, hoping to hit Techno right in the jaw. She wants to see him stagger back in pain.
Unfortunately, a third hand grabs at her leg and holds it in place. Techno backs up, still grinning wildly, though now he’s staring at the newcomer. With a frustrated scream, she tries to wretch her leg from the person’s grasp, only for them to squeeze her ankle hard enough to almost hurt.
“Hello Mother Duck,” comes the voice. This stops Puffy. Going limp against Phil, she stares out at the person attached to the hand. It’s Dream. He’s wearing his usual outfit; the bright green shirt, black pants, and instead of wearing his mask properly, it’s resting against the side of his head.
“Dream,” she says softly. “Dream, what have you done?” Tears fill her eyes. This is the first time she’s seen him since...since before Tommy was released from exile. She had thought she moved past him, but seeing him now brings tears to her eyes.
“Is it cool if I call you mom?” he asks. “I know that we’re not officially family, but you did kind of adopt me. I wanted to check up on things.” Dream’s wearing a more serene smile. He doesn’t look like a maniacal villain, he looks like her duckling: peaceful, happy, and calm.
For a second, Puffy almost believes. She can almost believe that the world around her isn’t going up in flames, and that there isn’t a dragon attacking the SMP. Right now, it’s just a mother duck and her duckling, reuniting at last.
“What have you done?” Her voice sounds foreign to her own ears, filled with despair. The world comes back into focus, and behind her, she can hear someone scream.
“What I should have done ages ago,” Dream says casually. Bending down, he picks up her sword. “The problem wasn’t L’Manburg.” Dream scoffs. “The problem wasn’t the countries or the buildings or even Tommy. Tommy wasn’t the one who brought attachments, all of you did. All of you were so selfish about everything. From buildings to random items, even pets. It became a cluster fuck of everyone blaming everyone else, and people kept getting forgotten or left behind.”
“You messed up the most!” Phil’s grip on her loosens enough for her to straighten up. Puffy wants nothing more than to take Dream into her arms and hold him close. She also wants to drive a sword through her stomach. “You hurt the most people, you have to pay!”
“Believe me, Mother Duck, I am paying. I’ve been paying for it, and I’ve decided I’m tired of paying for it. Which is why we’re here.”
“I’m going to stop you,” she replies flatly. “It’s my duty.”
“It was your duty to protect people, and you did a lousy job at that.” Dream spins the sword in his hands. “Believe me when I say I do love you. For a brief time, we had a happy family, until you replaced me with Foolish.”
Her blood chills. “Don’t touch Foolish.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Everyone’s going to suffer, he’s not special.” Dream continues to wear that same smile, almost matching the mask he’s wearing. “But sometimes things have to be done a certain way in order to achieve our goals. You of all people know that.”
“Dream...” She’s pleading with him now. Begging for him to come back, begging for him to instruct Phil to let her go. She almost misses that Techno had already left somewhere during this conversation.
“I’ll tell Tommy you thought off him. Phil, step back.”
The pressure on her immediately leaves. Nearly falling back, Puffy stumbles to keep her balance before facing Dream again, arms dangling at her sides. She’s confused on what Dream meant, in regards to Phil, but the answer-
-oh.
She has on diamond armor. It’s meant to protect her, it’s meant to help her when there’s danger nearby. But somehow, Dream had managed to find the cracks in the armor, the tiny little exposures. It was enough that he rammed her own sword through her stomach.
Puffy stares down, unable to talk. She’s unable to comprehend why she’s bleeding, but feels no pain. Confusion blots out all coherent thought, and instead, stares at her duckling.
Is it her imagination, or is Dream crying? Are those tears streaming down his face, or are they tears blurring her own vision?
It doesn’t matter, anymore.
When he yanks the sword back, she falls forward. Puffy’s jumbled thoughts are of the people she’s come to love: Foolish, Bad, Tommy, Eret. Sam. They all held a special meaning to her, and were all lovely people.
Niki. She’d cared for Niki in a special kind of way. More intimate, even if toward the end they barely spoke. She’d miss seeing Niki’s smile.
And Dream...
Dream’s arms around her, catching her fall. His arms slowly lowering her to the ground, his arms cradling her, wiping blood from her mouth.
“Duckling...” Puffy tries to reach for him, but she’s so, so tired now. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It didn’t really hurt to begin with. Dream’s holding her and crying, and Phil’s somewhere to the right of Dream.
“I’ll see you soon,” Dream says gently. He kisses her forehead, and then leaves her. She’s laying on the cold ground and watches as he and Phil walk away.
With the remaining strength she has left, Puffy turns her gaze to the sky, just in time to see the dragon fly overhead. The dragon breathes down on her, encasing her with the most beautiful purple haze she’d ever seen. The last thing she’ll ever see.
And the war rages on.
#dream smp#dream smp fanfic#dark!fic#cruelty of the beast#cruelty of the beast ch. 16#captain puffy#philza#dreamwastaken#technoblade#blood#violence#major character death#grief#long post#miishae writes
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
yeah
Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 10)
[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [ao3] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]
Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast
Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla
Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien
Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)
Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.
Chapter Summary: Sir Damien is home again. He and Rilla's newer guest must learn to share the space, for however brief a time this arrangement will last.
Chapter Notes: Love you!! Happy LKT! Don't actually think there's anything new to warn for?? Fun fact! the next chapter is also basically entirely done. Just one or two brief scenes to add. Also. pay no attention to the fact that the theoretical total number of chapters keeps mysteriously increasing. I'm sure that's nothing. >.>;;;
~
When Damien wakes, Rilla is already gone from the bed. He can hear cutlery clinking on dishware through the wall, can smell breakfast, alluring and warm, and he slowly stretches his sore muscles against the softness of these familiar sheets, and he-
He realizes, with a pang of strange guilt, that he had forgotten, for a moment, all he needs be afraid of. The worry creeps back slow, like a draft slipping through the cracks in old stone, cool on his spine, but there is something distant about the feeling. Rilla is… Rilla is still safe.
He feels lighter, as well, with the story of Ballast and its curse no longer pressing dark and confusing on him alone. It will not plague his love as it does Damien.
(The cadence of the story slips from him, just briefly. He does not mean for it to happen, but it cracks through, the tragedy, the cruelty-
"His voice, Rilla, they took from him his very voice," he keens, and she holds him tighter, holds him closer. "He called out and called out, sent words on quick wing from so close by and still they would not hear- they put his voice in a box and they hid it in the dark, they buried it, they left it for the moths, Rilla! All he had left were words and they refused, they refused- not even the howling of the hound they heeded, Rilla, and were my hand not stayed, were I not stopped, I would have- I would have been the punctuation on his silencing- I would have-"
She holds him tighter. She holds him closer. She listens. His heart, oh, his twisting, uncertain heart-)
He rolls from the bed, still stiff, and runs through a quick light routine of stretches before he works up the nerve to see what awaits him outside the safety of Rilla's bedroom. He expects another argument, and- and his own mind is so unsettled that he is unsure he can hold his position steady. His beloved is too brilliant to contend with at less than his best.
When he gently pushes the door open, the monster is arranged on the cushions by Rilla's table, claws drumming on the wood as he raises an eyebrow, and Rilla is laughing. The bright familiarity of it jumps in Damien's stomach, but his eyes dart to the monster-
Lord Arum is leaning against the table, his body angled towards Rilla, something like a smile curving his mouth. There is some new cloth clasped around his shoulders, soft and shimmering and precisely as violet as his eyes. His eyes, which are fixed upon Rilla, and the look Damien can see in them is- is nearly the same as the look the monster wore while Damien had been reciting his poem to the creature. Attentive, rapt, patient- but less wary, even, than in that moment.
"Like you're one to talk," Rilla says, teasing, and the monster-
Snorts a laugh of his own, and the almost-smile blooms into a wide grin, and Damien takes a compulsive step forward.
Lord Arum turns his face towards him almost too quick for Damien to see the shift, his grin vanishing, his face going almost blank. Almost. The blankness does not quite manage to hide the flash of concern on the monster's face.
He-
His eyes, violet and wary and piercing. A monster's eyes, and yet-
"Morning, Damien," Rilla says mildly, and Damien snaps back to himself.
"Rilla," he says, and his voice is a little rough at the edges, from sleep and exhaustion both, from the long tale told the night before. "I- I hope you-" he stammers, and he tries, he tries not to feel the monster watching them as Rilla steps close enough to touch his shoulder. He is unsure of his success. "I hope you slept well, despite my- despite-"
"I slept fine, Damien. Better than I've been doing, honestly. Sorry I didn't wake you earlier, but I thought you could use the rest."
"Y-yes. Yes, I believe you are correct. I- I am… I need not leave, today, so there is no hurry in my morning."
Arum is watching him, still. It prickles across Damien's skin.
He has not spoken, though.
Damien takes a breath, takes Rilla's hand, and turns his body towards the creature.
"Good morning to you, as well, Lord Arum," he says, his tone quiet and blank, and the monster blinks, his face going suspicious as Rilla's hand squeezes his own. "You-" Damien stops, wets his lips, observes the creature warily glaring up at him. "You look quite well."
"Do I?" Arum mutters, ducking his head. "How well may a monster look, little songbird?"
Damien pauses. "Certainly better than when last we met. It seems you are… recovering smoothly under the care of such a talented physician."
Arum's snout wrinkles, and he turns his face away, just slightly. "Hm. Yes, well." He mutters something too low to hear, and then he does not say anything else.
Rilla squeezes his hand again, and when he glances towards her she smiles, soft and warm. "Hey. Hungry?"
She puts together a plate for him, and Damien is ravenous, he has not eaten anything but rations for the road since last he was beneath Rilla's roof, but-
When she steps over to her table and settles to sit across from the monster, Damien can't- he cannot help but balk.
He cannot make himself sit beside a monster, not as Rilla can. With such ease, such lack of care.
"I think-" his words stumble, and Rilla must see the look in his eye, because her brow furrows, her lips turning downward in concern. "Perhaps I will- perhaps I will take- take my meal outside."
He has written countless poems on the mossy stump in front of Rilla's hut. The place feels safer, just in this moment, than the table beside the beast.
Rilla continues to stare at him, and he can see that her concern is struggling at the edge of frustration as she asks, "Outside, Damien? You… you don't want to-"
Lord Arum still is not looking at him, but Damien can see the twist of his mouth, the strange twinge of morbid satisfaction, as if this was precisely what Arum expected him to do.
"I- I believe I require a moment of fresh air," Sir Damien lies in a shaking voice, and then he retreats.
~
Damien does not remember, until the meal is halfway done, to be afraid that the monster might attack Rilla in his absence, and when the fear does come, he cannot seem to make it stay.
Something in the way Lord Arum looked at Rilla as she laughed, something in his eyes-
The worry feels false, now.
(he’s not gonna hurt me, Rilla says with a surety as sturdy as stone, and Damien thinks that she may have been correct, even then)
But Sir Damien still does not know if the monster has made Rilla an exception. Others may not be so lucky, when all is said and done.
~
While Lord Arum is resting in the exam room again in the afternoon, Rilla reaches across the table to take Damien's hand, startling him from his thoughts, soothing his surprise back with her thumb gentle on his wrist.
"Hey," she says softly. "If you're feeling up to it… I think we have a conversation we need to finish, Damien."
Damien feels his stomach fall, the sensation of missing a step. "R-right," he rasps. "Of course."
He should not feel this- this-
Damien should not-
"I want to apologize, first," Rilla says, and Damien startles, slightly, his hand fluttering in her grip as he looks up at her wry smile.
"Wh- you do?"
"I know this is… not easy. And I know that it's only gonna get harder, really."
Damien's heart and shoulders sink. "Ah."
"And the thing is," she leans back slightly, sighing. "You were right." She pauses, then quickly continues, "In one way, I mean. You were right that I was… I wasn't being- I wasn't planning ahead, because it was too hard to think about the consequences of this whole thing. And it came back to bite me in the ass, because of course it did."
Damien's eyes go a little wide. "It- what do you mean?"
"Arum saw it too. That I was…" she laughs. "That I didn't know what I was doing, not really. Not beyond like, the actual medical part."
The automatic instinct is to refute, to tell Rilla that she's brilliant, that of course she knows what she's doing-
She rubs at her wrists, not quite looking at him. "And, uh, there's another thing- but I really need you to listen right now and let me finish before you respond, okay?"
Damien opens his mouth, closes it, and then nods.
"So, while you were gone," she says, voice strained, "because- because Arum knew that I didn't have a plan, and because he thought- he thought that when you came back you would kill him, he- he tried to leave, and- well, I mean, technically speaking, he kinda grabbed me and tried to- to make it so I couldn't follow him-"
"What? He did- the beast attacked you?!" Damien's hands fly to his bow, his muscles clenching.
"Damien-" she reaches out again, gripping his shoulders. "Look at me. Damien, I'm fine. Please don't freak out. He didn't hurt me, I'm fine, nothing happened. Everyone is safe, I promise. Just- just breathe, okay?"
It's like trying to see through a pinhole, the panic. He can hear her words, but his ears are still rushing, his throat too tight for breath. Every ounce of him is screaming danger, is howling protect-
"Damien. I'm okay. We're okay, I promise. I- I'm telling you this even though I know it'll freak you out because- because it won't help anything to lie about it, but- but you need to actually listen to me, okay? I'm not hurt-"
"Your wrists," he manages in a strangled voice, reaching to hover his fingers just barely away from her skin. "I- I- I did not- the bruises- I should never have left you alone with that thing, I should have-"
"Damien, I did that to myself." She squeezes his shoulders, the pressure grounding, soothing. "C'mon, Damien, you have to breathe. I can't explain if you aren't listening."
He sucks in a breath and holds it, trembling, and Rilla rhythmically rubs her hands up and down his biceps. She- her wrists, but- but she- she is here, and she is- she is not hurt, not truly. Is she? He rakes her eyes over her, lingering on the light red speckling at her wrists, catching her worried eyes only briefly, but otherwise she- she seems precisely as he left her. She appears- otherwise unharmed. Damien exhales, and his breathing is still fast, now, but he is forcing it under his control again, by degrees.
"I am… I am sorry, my flower," he murmurs. "C-continue. I will- I will listen."
Rilla smiles, just barely, worry still visible on her brow, and then she sighs. "He- he was only trying to go home, Damien. He was- he was scared, and he was desperate." She pauses. "Don't- don't tell him I said that, he'd be upset that I know he's scared."
Damien-
Knows exactly what she means, somehow. The creature seems to have a rather distinct sense of pride. He nods again.
"He just wants to go home," she says again, and there is a note of strange sorrow in her voice. "And I… Damien, I know it's crazy, but- but I have to help him."
Damien blinks. "You- what did you say?"
She sighs and bites her lip. "You were right. I can't keep him here, not any longer than I have to. It's- it's dangerous. For him, mostly, but- he can't stay, and he'll never make it home on his own, and I- I can't just push him out the door with a wave and a good luck, that's not- I can't-"
She presses her lips together hard, looking away. "Rilla-"
She rubs a hand over her mouth, and then she meets his eye again, determination in her gaze. "I've already decided, Damien. I told him I would get him home, and that's what I'm going to do. If- if that's too much for you to handle, I- I can understand that, but I'm not going to let you hurt him, and I'm not going to let you stop me, either."
"Stop you?" he echoes faintly.
"I just kinda assumed," she says, smiling very weakly. "You've been pretty- pretty adamant about your position, Damien."
"I-"
Damien pauses.
He would have killed the creature in the depths of unconsciousness. Damien would have drawn and fired and stopped his heart cold. Would have never allowed the beast to wake again-
As he nearly did to the witch of Ballast.
Damien's heart pulls, as if it wishes to tear in half. His duty, his holy charge, his feet drawn forward into this endless battle-
And his love, and his rival, each by turns staying his hand.
Damien hesitates, and then he reaches, drawing his thumb careful along the soft redness circling Rilla's wrist.
"Precisely how did this happen, then?" he asks, voice low.
Rilla flinches. "He- he didn't hurt me, Damien. He could have, but he didn't. This- he just kinda- tied me to the stool?" she says, her voice going high and worried as she watches his face. "And I pulled my wrists breaking the bandages to get out. I could have done it more carefully and I wouldn't have been hurt at all but I was- I was worried that he would hurt himself trying to get home and I- I was too impatient to- to worry about myself. It's barely a burn, Damien, I swear-"
"I trust your medical expertise," Damien murmurs, and his brow softens as he lifts her hands to kiss the heel of one palm, and then the other. "I… my love, I- I may not- I still do not understand," he manages. "I do not understand what makes this creature different, what makes you- what makes you protect him. But-"
Rilla's hands flex in his own, but she does not pull away. "But?"
He inhales, exhales. "He is… he is your patient. You have claimed him as such, and so he must be. I must trust that you know best, how he should be cared for," he says in a near whisper. He swallows, then, feeling the terror of betrayal at the back of his throat. "If he threatens you- if the situation shifts- if you are in any danger, I will protect you. But I-" his heart stutters, he gasps a compulsive breath. "I will- I will not- I will not interfere, so long as you are certain that you are safe."
Rilla's expression falls open in shock, and then it goes pleased and warm. "Oh. Damien-"
"I only ask that you- you will allow me to- to keep an eye on the situation. To ease my worry, if nothing else. In case the worst should occur."
"Damien…" She stares at him. "Really? You're not- you really mean that? You're not going to-"
"I would not lie to you," he says gently.
"No," she says, "I know, but it's just- unexpected, I guess?"
"To be certain," he agrees in a murmur.
Rilla gives a breath of laughter, then squeezes his hands. "I- maybe I'm gonna regret asking this, but- what changed?"
Sir Damien does not know.
He pushes back his guilt. He pushes down his fear. He squeezes Rilla's hands, feeling her pulse, feeling that she is safe, alive, safe. If this be a trick, still- if the creature is merely acting as he knows he must to survive this, then-
Damien will still slay him, if necessary. But, for the moment-
The faster the creature is well again, the faster he will be gone from their lives, and the sooner Sir Damien can resume his life as it once was. The sooner he may again live with his beloved safe by his side, secure and familiar and right once more.
~
Damien comes and goes, as his duty calls him, but apparently the Queen isn't in dire need at the moment, because most nights he returns to the hut. Rilla can't decide if he's being more overprotective than he means to let on, or if he's just still trying to process what happened in Ballast, along with this whole Arum thing, but it really doesn't matter why. It's more important to her that he's here, even if he's quieter about it, more contemplative. It's more important that he still comes to bed with her and holds her tight when he needs the comfort. And- when she does, honestly.
He still acts stiff and strange with Arum, his words uncharacteristically awkward, but he isn't on the attack anymore, not like he had been, and he hasn't snuck off to play guard dog overnight since he came back. He makes Arum nervous, which is fair enough. He keeps his bow close by fairly often, and Rilla weighs Arum's discomfort versus Damien's and she can't make herself tell Damien to put the damn thing away. She has to trust that Damien won't use it, and she knows that it makes him feel safe. She just has to hope that Arum trusts her enough to know that she wouldn't allow it if she thought it was a risk.
Arum is different with Damien than he is with her, too. More antagonistic, but- in a sideways sort of way. He doesn't directly insult the knight, not usually, and instead he seems to get a kick out of irritating him in little, inconsequential ways. Seems to know exactly what buttons to push with Damien, too, to get him to grit his teeth and snap in return, and the monster tends to grin and chuckle like he's won every time he can make Damien irritable enough that Rilla feels like she needs to intercede.
But- the thing that Rilla is having trouble wrapping her head around is the parts that don't quite seem like simple antagonism. If that was all it was, she could get that. That would make sense, even if it was annoying. There's something else, though. Something that doesn't quite fit into the box of antagonism.
"Hm. I suppose it is for the best that you have returned, little songbird," Arum murmurs, and Rilla hears Damien scoff through the door as she changes out of a sap-stained post-experiment outfit. The walls of her hut don't do much for noise cancellation, she thinks wryly.
"Is that so, beast?" Damien's answer is calm, if vaguely strained. "Why should you wish for my return?"
"I do not prefer to leave matters unsettled," Arum growls, low. "I believe there is unfinished business still between us… and I would think the stubborn little songbird would be eager to finish attempting to prove his point."
There is a pause, and then-
"The- the duel, of course," Damien says, awkwardly. Rilla tenses, because some arranged duel is news to her, and not exactly good news, either. "Of course. Er- however, I do not believe you are yet in a state to fulfill your challenge, friend lizard."
"I- what?" Another pause. "Oh. Y-yes. Of course. The- the duel, takatakataka."
Even through the door, Rilla can hear the familiar uncomfortable rattle Arum gives. She can practically see his tail thrashing, his frill flaring, she knows that noise so well.
"… Lord Arum?"
Arum hisses low, not remotely an answer.
"What…" Damien pauses, for a long sort of moment. "What, precisely, did you mean, if not the duel?"
"Not a thing, honeysuckle," the monster mutters. "Of course I meant the duel. Don't be foolish."
Rilla shuffles on a new skirt, trying not to feel like an intruder in her own damn hut. It- it isn't her fault they're having this conversation so loud. If they didn't want her to hear-
"Oh. Oh," Damien says after another long moment, and then he coughs, lightly. "Ah. I suppose… I suppose that… that I never finished my poem, that evening, did I?"
"I do not remember," Arum mutters. "It does not matter. I had forgotten the whole thing by the next morning."
Another ticking, growling rattle. Another low snarl. Rilla hesitates at her bedroom door, which- she's not spying. She's not, she just- doesn't want to interrupt them.
"Well… I suppose…" Damien trails off. "I suppose," Damien tries again, his quiet voice very carefully pitched to casual, "that the next time you wish to be bored to sleep, I will know which tale to begin with," Damien says, very quietly.
Arum chokes a laugh. "I- I believe- I-" Another pause. Saints, but Rilla could record entire research logs in the time these boys take to finish a sentence. "It was you who lulled yourself to slumber with your words, songbird," Arum says, his own voice gone low, and hesitant, and stilted. "Not I. If you should like to bore me, you would do better to return to your little threats, not your… your poetry. If you wish to finish your tale, it is not as if I could stop you."
Damien does not respond to that, and after a moment Rilla pushes the door open again. There's a half second during which she sees the pair of them staring at each other, Arum with his head ducked and his tail coiling, Damien with his cheeks gone dark, and then the both of them look her way instead.
Rilla-
Doesn't comment. Why would she? Awkward silences are better than fighting, anyway, even if the way Arum looks away from her makes her stomach twist oddly. Even if Damien doesn't stop pinching his face into a guilty frown on and off for the next few minutes.
Rilla can wrestle away a bit of awkward, though. Especially coming from Damien. She's gentle, and tactical, and with a few pointed questions she manages to start him off on that story about the Sphinxes again. She doesn't mind the repetition, today. It's a good story, and-
Well. Arum certainly hasn't heard it before.
~
"Amaryllis," the monster calls lightly, looking up from the book in his hands, and then he goes still.
Damien follows his gaze automatically, and he feels a familiar little pulse of fondness when he sees his Rilla, draped partway over the table, her head sunk to rest on her arms, her shoulders lifting and lowering lightly as she sleeps, her stack of books utterly forgotten and her recorder still clutched in hand.
Arum blinks, watching her for a moment with his head tilted just slightly to the side, and then he catches Damien watching him in return and he narrows his eyes, turning away. "Foolish creature. I am certain she has a bed in this little hut somewhere. Certainly she should find it before she decides to collapse," he mutters, his voice carefully low, and-
Damien feels a strange little pulse again, a soft sort of echo, at the way Lord Arum's eyes return to Rilla as he speaks, just briefly, as if the monster is checking to ensure his quiet words have not woken her.
Damien bites his lips, swallows uncomfortably. "I… I do not think you should speak so, Lord Arum," he says, tone light. "You have your own habit of inopportune sleep, if our previous evenings together are any indication."
The monster blinks, then snorts. "I see that I shall never live my sedation down with you, shall I, honeysuckle?"
"I am quite used to it, in truth," Damien murmurs. "She… this is not an unusual occurrence. Sleep finds her where it may, as she so often spends her nights busily avoiding it." He smiles, helpless, and reaches a hand to press the button to stop her recorder, and then he brushes some loose curls away from her brow. "Any rest she allows to catch hold is quite well deserved."
Damien realizes, after a moment, that the monster is staring at him. As soon as he realizes this, Arum looks away again, burying his snout back in his own book.
Damien realizes, after a moment, that he has taken his own turn, to stare.
"What do you intend," Damien blurts, "When you are home again?"
Arum blinks, looking up at the knight with no small degree of alarm, and then he narrows his eyes. "When?"
That- is not the part of the question that Damien had thought the creature would take umbrage with. "Ah-"
"I do not believe for a moment that you have decided to allow the doctor to return me where I belong," he mutters. "You must think me completely naive, or entirely brainless."
It is unbelievable, Damien thinks, and yet. Damien has decided precisely that, somehow. It is unsurprising that the monster disbelieves. He purses his lips for a moment, considers how to proceed.
"I may change my mind on the matter," he says mildly, "depending on how this conversation progresses."
Arum narrows his eyes further, a ticking rattle growing in his chest. "And you do not think that in telling me such, you might color my responses, little knight? You are not a particularly skilled interrogator, are you?"
"This… this is not an interrogation," Damien admits, after a moment. "Rilla believes you only wish to return home. However… she has not elaborated upon what happens after that comes to pass. What will you do, when you are returned to where you belong?"
Arum scoffs. "Ridiculous. If I ever see my home again, I will put to rights whatever has gone unruly in my absence, and then I will never again be bothered by your kind or my own, if I have my way. I will be alone, as I should be, so I may nurse my own wounds." He pauses. "And my ego, while I am at it."
Damien furrows his brow, watching the way Arum's shoulders hunch, the way his expression goes angry to hide the flash of sorrow Damien thinks he sees, for only a brief moment. "And what of humankind?"
"What of it?" Arum snarls, and then he glances to Rilla and swallows, though she does not stir at his voice. "What of it?" He repeats more quietly. "I do not care what the lot of you foul creatures do, so long as you do not intrude upon my territory. Perhaps I will close the borders entirely. Perhaps that will be safest, in fact." He wrinkles his snout, glaring down at his clenched fists. "Yes. Safest for both of us," he mutters, more to himself than to Damien. "If I ever make it home… yes, whatever it takes, for our safety. I must protect myself, must protect my K-"
He chokes, words cutting off ragged at the end into his low growl, his eyes darting to Damien and then away as his frill flares like a flag in a high wind.
Damien feels himself staring, again. He cannot help it.
That keening note in Arum's voice, that hot protective current beneath the words-
It rings in Damien's mind like the echo of bells, as familiar as home. Damien knows the feeling this creature is trying, so clumsily, to hide.
Rilla shifts against the table and Arum startles, his claws clenching the near-forgotten book in his hand before he lifts it again, narrowing his eyes over the pages at Sir Damien.
"I hope my answers have been enlightening enough for you, honeysuckle," he mutters quickly, and then he hides himself again in the pages.
Rilla yawns, and stretches, and falls partly against Damien's shoulder as she mutters herself awake, and she is warm and utterly safe by his side. Mere feet from a monster, and Damien cannot even force himself to worry for her safety. No, he is not worried, not for his beloved, not at Arum's hands, but-
Arum's answers were more than enlightening, Damien thinks. That is… that is entirely the problem. They were enlightening, because Sir Damien cannot help but feel that every one of them was true.
Lord Arum aches for home, and Sir Damien's twisting, stuttering, traitorous heart aches in foolish sympathy.
[->]
#elle's fanfic#scattered on my shore#the penumbra podcast#second citadel#rad bouquet#lizard kissin' tuesday#lord arum#sir damien#amaryllis of exile#deep sigh. deep sigh. this is all good and fine probably
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
The origin of sin
The third chapter of Genesis offers the key points that characterize man's spiritual history, which are: Temptation, guilt, judgment and redemption.
1. Temptation: its possibility, origin and subtlety.
(a) The possibility of temptation. The second chapter of Genesis reports the fact of man's fall, reporting on man's first home, his intelligence, his service in the Garden in Eden, the two trees, and the first marriage. It specifically mentions the two trees of destiny - the tree of the science of good and evil and the tree of life.
These two trees constitute a sermon in the form of a picture constantly saying to our first parents: "If you follow good and reject evil, you will have life." And isn't this really the essence of the Way of Life found through the Scriptures? (See Deut. 30:15.) Note the forbidden tree. Why was it placed there? To provide a test by which man could, lovingly and freely, choose to serve God and thereby develop his character. Without free will, man would have been merely a machine.
(b) The source of temptation. "Now the serpent was more astute than all the animals in the field that the Lord God had made." It is reasonable to deduce that the serpent, which at that time should have been a beautiful creature, was the agent employed by Satan, who had already been thrown out of heaven before the creation of man. (Ezek. 23: 13-17; Isa. 14: 12-15.) For this reason, Satan is described as "that ancient serpent, called the devil" (Rev. 12: 9). Usually Satan works through agents. When Peter (though without bad intent) sought to dissuade his Master from the path of duty, Jesus looked beyond Peter, and said, "Behind me, Satan" (Matt. 16: 22,23). In this case Satan worked through one of Jesus' friends; in Eden he employed the serpent, a creature that Eve did not suspect.
(c) The subtlety of temptation. Subtlety is mentioned as a distinguishing feature of the serpent. (See Matt. 10:16.) With great cunning she offers suggestions, which, when embraced, open the way to sinful desires and deeds. She begins by speaking to the woman, the most fragile vessel, who, in addition to this circumstance, had not directly heard the divine prohibition.
(Gen. 2:16, 17.) And she waits until Eve is alone. Note the cunning approach. She twists the words of God (See Gen. 3: 1 and 2:16, 17) and then pretends to be surprised that they are so twisted; in this way she, shrewdly, sows doubt and suspicion in the heart of the naive woman, and at the same time insinuates that she is well qualified to be a judge on the justice of such a prohibition. Through the question in verse 1, she casts threefold doubts about God.
1) Doubt about God's goodness. It says, in effect, "God is withholding some blessing from you."
2) Doubt about God's righteousness. "You will certainly not die." That is, "God did not mean to say what he said".
3) Doubt about God's holiness. In verse 5 the serpent says, in effect: "God has forbidden you to eat from the tree because he is jealous of you. He does not want you to become as wise as he is, so he keeps you in ignorance. It is not because he is interested in you. , to save you from death, but in his interest, to prevent you from becoming like him. "
2. Guilt.
Notice the evidence of a guilty conscience:
1) "Then their eyes were opened, and they knew that they were naked." Expression used to indicate miraculous or sudden clarification. (Gen. 21:19; 2 Kings. 6:17.) The serpent's words (verse 5) were fulfilled; however, the knowledge acquired was different from what they expected. Instead of making them similar to God, they experienced a miserable sense of guilt that made them afraid of God. Notice that physical nudity is a picture of a naked or guilty conscience.
Emotional disturbances are often reflected in our features. Some commentators maintain that before the fall, Adam and Eve were dressed in a halo or light garment, which was a sign of communion with God and the dominance of the spirit over the body. When they sinned, that fellowship was interrupted; the body overcame the spirit, and there began this conflict between the flesh and the spirit (Rom. 7: 14-24), which has been the cause of so much misery.
2) "And they sewed fig leaves, and made aprons for themselves." Just as physical nudity is a sign of a guilty conscience, in the same way, trying to cover nudity is a picture that represents the man trying to cover his guilt with the dress of forgetfulness or the costume of excuses. But, only a garment made by God can cover sin (Verse 21).
3) "And they heard the voice of the Lord God, who was walking in the garden at the turn of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden." The guilty man's instinct is to run away from God. And just as Adam and Eve sought to hide among the trees, so people today seek to hide in pleasures and other activities.
3. The judgment.
(a) About the snake. "Because you have done this, you will be cursed more than every beast, and more than all the animals of the field; you will walk on your belly, and the dust you will eat every day of your life." These words imply that the serpent was once a beautiful and honorable creature. Then, because it became the instrument for the fall of man, it became cursed and degraded on the scale of animal creation. Since the serpent was simply Satan's instrument, why should it be punished? Because it is God's will to make the serpent's curse a type and prophecy of the curse on the devil and on all the powers of evil. Man must recognize, by the serpent's punishment, how the curse of God will wound all sin and wickedness; crawling in the dust would remind man of the day when God will bring down to the dust, the power of the devil. This is a stimulus for man: he, the tempter, is standing upright while the serpent is under the curse. By the grace of God, man can hurt his head - he can overcome evil. (See Luke 10:18; Rom. 16:20; Rev. 12: 9; 20: 1-3, 10.)
(b) About the woman. "And he said to the woman, I will greatly multiply your pain and your conception; in pain you will have children; and your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you" (Gen. 3:16). Thus said a writer: The presence of sin has been the cause of much suffering, precisely in the manner indicated above.
There is no doubt that giving birth to children constitutes a critical and painful moment in the woman's life. The feeling of past faults weighs in a particular way on her, and also the cruelty and madness of the man contributed to making the process more painful and dangerous for the woman than for the animals. Sin has corrupted all relationships in life, and particularly the marriage relationship. In many countries, women are practically slaves to men; the sad position and condition of widowed girls and mother girls in India has been a horrible fact in fulfilling this curse.
(c) About man. (Verses 17-19.) The work for the man had already been assigned (2:15). The punishment consists of the eagerness, disappointments and afflictions that often accompany the work. Agriculture is specified in particular, because it has always been one of the most needed human jobs. In some mysterious way, the land and creation in general have participated in the curse and fall of their master (man) but are destined to participate in their redemption.
This is Rom's thinking. 8: 19-23. In Isaiah 11: 1-9 and 65: 17-25, we have examples of verses that predict the removal of the curse from the earth during the Millennium. In addition to the physical curse that has taken hold of the land, it is also true that human caprice and sin have hampered labor in many ways and have provoked the most difficult and hardest working conditions for man. Let us note the death penalty. "Because you are dust, and in dust you will become." Man was created capable of not dying physically; he would have physical existence indefinitely if he had preserved his innocence and continued to eat from the tree of life.
Even if he returns to fellowship with God (and thus overcomes spiritual death) through repentance and prayer, he must nevertheless return to his Creator through death. Since death is part of the penalty of sin, complete salvation must include the resurrection of the body, (1 Cor. 15: 54-57.) Nevertheless, certain people, like Enoch, will have the privilege of escaping physical death. (Gen. 5:24; 1 Cor. 15:51.)
4. Redemption.
The first three chapters of Genesis contain the three revelations of God, which throughout the Bible figure in all of God's relations with man. The Creator, who brought everything into existence (ch. 1), the God of the Covenant who enters personal relationships with man (ch. 2); the Redeemer, who makes provision for the restoration of man (ch. 3).
(a) Promised. (See Gen. 3:15.) (1) The serpent sought to make a covenant with Eve against God, but God ended that covenant. "And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed (descendants) and your seed." In other words, there will be a constant struggle between man and the evil power that caused his downfall. (2) What will be the result of this conflict? First, victory for humanity, through the Representative of man, the Seed of woman.
"She (the woman's seed) will hurt your head." Christ, the Seed of the woman, came into the world to crush the power of the devil. (Matt. 1:23, 25; Luc. 1: 31-35,76; Isa. 7:14; Gal. 4: 4; Rom. 16:20; Col. 2:15; Heb. 2: 14,15 ; 1 John 3: 8; 5: 5; Rev. 12: 7, 8, 17; 20: 1-3, 10.) (3) However, victory will not be without suffering. "And you (the serpent) will hurt his heel." On Calvary the Serpent struck the heel of the woman's Seed; but this wound brought healing to humanity. (See Isa. 53: 3,4,12; Dan. 9:26; Matt. 4: 1-10; Luc. 22: 39-14,53; John 12: 31- 33; 14: 30,31; Heb 2:18; 5: 7; Rev. 2:10.)
(b) Prefigured. (Verse 21.) God killed an animal, an innocent creature, to be able to dress those who felt naked before his sight because of sin. Likewise, the Father gave his Son, the Innocent, to death, in order to provide atoning coverage for the souls of men. ... A origem do pecado
O terceiro capítulo de Gênesis oferece os pontos chaves que caracterizam a história espiritual do homem, as quais são: A tentação, a culpa, o juízo e a redenção.
1. A tentação: sua possibilidade, origem e sutileza.
(a) A possibilidade da tentação. O segundo capítulo de Gênesis relata o fato da queda do homem, informando acerca do primeiro lar do homem, sua inteligência, seu serviço no Jardim no Éden, as duas árvores, e o primeiro matrimônio. Menciona especialmente como duas árvores do destino - a árvore da ciência do bem e do mal e a árvore da vida.
Essas duas árvores afetam um sermão em forma de quadro constantemente a nossos primeiros pais: "Se seguirdes o bem e rejeitardes o mal, tereis a vida." E não é esta realmente a essência do Caminho da Vida encontrada através das Escrituras? (Vide Deut. 30:15.) Notemos a árvore proibida. Por que foi colocada ali? Para provar um teste pelo qual o homem pudesse, amorosa e evoluir, escolher servir a Deus e dessa maneira desenvolver seu caráter. Sem vontade livre o homem teria sido meramente uma máquina.
(b) A origem da tentação. "Ora, uma serpente era mais astuta que todas as alimárias do campo que o Senhor Deus tinha feito." É razoável deduzir que a serpente, que aquele tempo deveria ter sido uma criatura formosa, foi o agente por Satanás, o qual já foi lançado para o céu antes da criação do homem. (Ezeq. 23: 13-17; Isa. 14: 12-15.) Por essa razão, Satanás é descrito como "essa antiga serpente, chamada o diabo" (Apoc. 12: 9). Trabalha Satanás trabalha por meio de agentes. Quando Pedro (embora sem má intenção) aguarde dissuadir seu Mestre da senda do dever, Jesus olhou além de Pedro, e disse, "Para trás de mim, Satanás" (Mat. 16: 22,23). Neste caso Satanás investigou por meio de um dos amigos de Jesus; no Éden empregou a serpente, uma criatura da qual Eva não desconfiava.
(c) A sutileza da tentação. A sutileza é mencionada como característica distintiva da serpente. (Vide Mat. 10:16.) Com grande astúcia ela apresenta sugestões, como quais, ao serem abraçadas, abrem caminho a desejos e atos pecaminosos. Ela começa falando com a mulher, o vaso mais frágil, que, além dessa circunstância, não tinha ouvido diretamente a proibição divina.
(Gên. 2:16, 17.) E ela espera até que Eva esteja só. Note-se a astúcia na aproximação. Ela torce as palavras de Deus (Vide Gén. 3: 1 e 2:16, 17) e então finge surpresa por estarem assim torcidas; dessa maneira ela, astutamente, semeia dúvida e suspeitas no coração da ingênua mulher, e ao mesmo tempo insinua que está bem qualificado para ser juiz quanto à justiça de tal proibição. Por meio da pergunta no versículo 1, lança a tríplice dúvida acerca de Deus.
1) Dúvida sobre a bondade de Deus. Ela diz, com efeito: "Deus está retendo alguma bênção de ti."
2) Dúvida sobre a retidão de Deus. "Certamente não morrereis." Isto é, "Deus não pretendia dizer o que disse".
3) Dúvida sobre a santidade de Deus. No versículo 5 a serpente diz, com efeito: "Deus vos proibiu comer da árvore porque tem inveja de vos. Não quer que chegueis a ser sábios tanto quanto ele, de modo que vos mantém em ignorância. Não é porque ele se interesse por vós , para salvar-vos da morte, e sim por interesse dele, para impedir que chegueis a ser semelhantes a ele. "
2. A Culpa.
Notemos as evidências de uma consciência culpada:
1) "Então foram abertos os olhos de ambos, e conheceram que estavam nus." Expressão usada para indicar esclarecimento milagroso ou repentino. (Gên. 21:19; 2 Reis. 6:17.) As palavras da serpente (versículo 5) cumpriram-se; porém, o conhecimento adquirido foi diferente do que eles esperavam. Em vez de fazê-los semelhantes a Deus, experimentaram um miserável sentimento de culpa que os fez ter medo de Deus. Notemos que a nudez física é um quadro de uma consciência nua ou culpada.
Os distúrbios emocionais refletem-se muitas vezes em nossas feições. Alguns comentadores sustentam que antes da queda, Adão e Eva estavam vestidos com uma auréola ou traje de luz, que era um sinal da comunhão com Deus e do domínio do espírito sobre o corpo. Quando pecaram, essa comunhão foi interrompida; o corpo venceu o espírito, e ali começou esse conflito entre a carne e o espírito (Rom. 7: 14-24), que tem sido a causa de tanta miséria.
2) "E coseram folhas de figueira, e fez para si aventais." Assim como a nudez física é sinal de uma consciência culpada, da mesma maneira, o cobrir procurar a nudez é um quadro que representa o homem a procurar cobrir sua culpa com a indumentária do esquecimento ou traje das desculpas. Mas, somente uma veste feita por Deus pode cobrir o pecado (Verso 21).
3) "E ouviram a voz do Senhor Deus, que passeava no jardim pela viração do dia: e escondeu-se Adão e sua mulher da presença do Senhor Deus entre as árvores do jardim." O instinto do homem culpado é fugir de Deus. E assim como Adão e Eva procuraram esconder-se entre as árvores, da mesma forma que as pessoas hoje em dia procuram esconder-se nos prazeres e em outras atividades.
3. O juízes.
(a) Sobre a serpente. "Porquanto fizeste isto, maldita serás mais que toda a besta, e mais que todos os animais do campo; sobre o teu ventre andarás, e o pó comerás todos os dias da tua vida." Palavras Essas implicam que a serpente outrora foi uma criatura formosa e honrada. Depois, porque veio a ser o instrumento para a queda do homem, tomou-se maldita e degradada na escala da criação animal. Uma vez que a serpente foi simplesmente o instrumento de Satanás, por que deve ser punida? Porque é a vontade de Deus fazer da maldição da serpente um tipo e profecia da maldição sobre o diabo e sobre todos os poderes do mal. O homem deve reconhecer, pelo castigo da serpente, como a maldição de Deus ferirá todo pecado e maldade; arrastando-se no pó recordaria ao homem o dia em que Deus derribará até ao pó, o poder do diabo. Isso é um estimulo para o homem: ele, o tentado, está em pé, erguido, enquanto a serpente está sob a maldição. Pela graça de Deus o homem pode ferir-lhe a cabeça - pode vencer o mal. (Vide Luc. 10:18; Rom. 16:20; Apoc. 12: 9; 20: 1-3, 10.)
(b) Sobre a mulher. "E à mulher disse: Multiplicarei grandemente a tua dor e a tua concepção; com dor terás filhos; e o teu desejo será para teu marido, e ele te dominará" (Gên. 3:16). Assim disse certo escritor: A presença do pecado tem sido uma causa de muito sofrimento, precisamente do modo indicado acima.
Não há dúvida que dar à luz filhos constitui um momento crítico e penoso na vida da mulher. O sentimento de faltas passadas pesa de uma maneira particular sobre ela, e também a crueldade e loucura do homem contribuíram para fazer o processo mais doloroso e perigoso para a mulher do que para os animais. O pecado tem corrompido todas as relações da vida, e muito particularmente uma relação matrimonial. Em muitos países a mulher é praticamente escrava do homem; a posição e a condição triste de meninas viúvas e meninas mães na Índia têm sido um fato horrível em cumprimento dessa maldição.
(c) Sobre o homem. (Versos 17-19.) O trabalho para o homem já tinha sido designado (2:15). O castigo consiste no afã, nas decepções e aflições que muitas vezes acompanham o trabalho. A agricultura é fontes em particular, porque sempre tem sido um dos empregos humanos mais comuns. De alguma maneira misteriosa, a terra e a criação em geral têm participado da maldição e da queda do seu senhor (o homem) porém estão destroçados a participar da sua redenção.
Este é o pensamento de Rom. 8: 19-23. Em Isaias 11: 1-9 e 65: 17-25, temos exemplos de versículos que predizem a remoção da maldição da terra durante o Milênio. Além da maldição física que se apossou da terra, também é certo que o capricho e o pecado humanos têm dificultado de muitas maneiras o trabalho e provocado como condições de trabalho mais difíceis e mais duras para o homem. Notemos a pena de morte. "Porquanto és pó, e em pó te tornarás." O homem foi criado capaz de não morrer fisicamente; teria existência física indefinidamente se tivesse preservado sua inocência e continuasse a comer da árvore da vida.
Ainda que volte à comunhão com Deus (e dessa maneira vença a morte espiritual) por meio do arrependimento e da oração, não obstante, deve voltar ao seu Criador através da morte. Visto que a morte faz parte da pena do pecado, a salvação completa deve incluir a ressurreição do corpo, (1 Cor. 15: 54-57.) Não obstante, certas pessoas, como Enoque, terá o privilégio de escapar da morte física. (Gên. 5:24; 1 Cor. 15:51.)
4. A redenção.
Os três primeiros capítulos de Gênesis estudados como três revelações de Deus, que por toda a Bíblia figuram em todas as relações de Deus com o homem. O Criador, que trouxe tudo à existência (cap. 1), o Deus do Pacto que entra em relações pessoais com o homem (cap. 2); o Redentor, que faz provisão para a restauração do homem (cap. 3).
(a) Prometida. (Vide Gên. 3:15.) (1) A serpente juntar fazer aliança com Eva contra Deus, mas Deus por fim a essa aliança. "E porei inimizade entre ti e uma mulher, e entre a tua semente (descendentes) e a sua semente." Em outras palavras, haverá uma luta constante entre o homem e o poder maligno que causou a sua queda. (2) Qual será o resultado desse conflito? Primeiro, vitória para a humanidade, por meio do Representante do homem, a Semente da mulher.
"Ela (a semente da mulher) te ferirá a cabeça." Cristo, a Semente da Mulher, veio ao mundo para esmagar o poder do diabo. (Mat. 1:23, 25; Luc. 1: 31-35,76; Isa. 7:14; Gál. 4: 4; Rom. 16:20; Col. 2:15; Heb. 2: 14,15 ; 1 João 3: 8; 5: 5; Apoc. 12: 7, 8, 17; 20: 1-3, 10.) (3) Porém a vitória não será sem sofrimento. "E tu (a serpente) lhe ferirás o calcanhar." No Calvário a Serpente feriu o calcanhar da Semente da mulher; mas este ferimento trouxe a cura para a humanidade. (Vide Isa. 53: 3,4,12; Dan. 9:26; Mat. 4: 1-10; Luc. 22: 39-14,53; João 12: 31-33; 14: 30,31; Hb . 2:18; 5: 7; Apoc. 2:10.)
(b) Prefigurada. (Verso 21.) Deus matou um animal, uma criatura inocente, para poder vestir aqueles que se sentiam ante a sua vista por causa do pecado. Do mesmo modo, o Pai deu seu Filho, o Inocente, à morte, um fim de prover uma cobertura expiatória para como almas dos homens.
0 notes
Text
HEY NOT ONLY IS IT LKT BUT IT IS ALSO ZINE DAY BABEY!!!! Please go check out the @seasonsofthecitadel zine! Orders opened today and all profits go to The Trevor Project!
As far as my typical weekly offerings go, I’m on a roll with this fic now, so...
Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 7)
[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [ao3] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]
Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast
Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla
Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien
Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)
Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.
Chapter Summary: Damien is dutiful as ever, and Rilla- Rilla has the situation under control. She does.
Chapter Notes: Not much to warn for this time, I don't think? They're all still bad at self care, and Arum is still... being passively suicidal, but if you've read the rest so far, I feel like that's expected. Love you! Happy LKT!
~
Damien wakes after Arum has already eaten, when Rilla is retrieving his dishes, and he careens back into consciousness with a shuddering gasp. His hand clutches his bow like a lifeline, and he springs to his feet in half a heartbeat, kicking the blanket aside without even seeming to notice it, his eyes wild until they land on Rilla.
Rilla, who only raises her eyebrow at him.
"At least you got some sleep, even if it was on the floor," she says mildly as Damien pants, standing and flicking his eyes around the room, looking away quickly when he meets the monster's eyes. "You okay?"
Damien swallows, then tries to press his hand over his heart, but he realizes that his bow is in the way and blinks in momentary confusion. "R-Rilla, I-" he cuts himself off as he remembers the monster watching them, violet eyes drifting between them curiously. "We can- we should discuss- we should move to the kitchen, I think, if we- if we wish to discuss-"
Rilla tries not to make it obvious that she wants to laugh, at that. Damien… it's not unfair for Damien to feel at least a little bit concerned, for him to want to talk to her privately. It really isn't. Even if it feels silly to Rilla, especially with the blatantly amused look Arum shoots the both of them. She bites her lip and nods, instead, then shoots Arum a look in return, both knowing and warning.
"I'll be back to check on you in a bit, okay Arum?" she says, and Arum wrinkles his snout very slightly as he nods. "Just… shout if you need anything."
Damien stares at her through this exchange, that wounded, mournful expression back in force, but she only smiles lightly and takes his hand (the one not still stubbornly wrapped around his bow, of course), and starts leading him back towards the front room. Arum's eyes flick to their clasped hands, his expression going momentarily puzzled before he flattens it out to neutral again, and Rilla doesn't have time to wonder about that because when they exit the exam room, Damien's mouth is already twisting down into a scowl.
"He- that beast- it tricked me into- into-"
"Into sleeping?" Rilla releases Damien's hand so she can go dump the dishes from breakfast onto the counter, and then she turns and leans against it, watching Damien unhappily begin to pace. "You were exhausted, Damien. If you didn't want to fall asleep in a room with him, you should have just stayed in bed with me," she says, and she knows she hasn't quite kept the hurt out of her voice when Damien's eyes dart to her in surprise.
"Rilla," he murmurs, and his pacing falters so he can come close to her instead, lifting his hands to gently touch her shoulders, his thumbs brushing her skin, just gently. "I… I am sorry. It isn't that I did not want to rest with you, my love. I always do. If I had my way, I would never sleep anywhere but beside you. But- but I couldn't- with that creature still beneath your roof, I could not-"
"I know," Rilla sighs, leaning into his touch. "I know once you get a thought in your head, it's hard for you to… I know."
"He is…" Damien's expression twists, his eyebrows furrowing deeply and his lips turning in a frown so deep it approaches a pout.
"A lot," Rilla finishes with a half a smile. "He's a lot."
Damien purses his lips, and then after a moment he nods lightly. "I suppose that is one rather concise way to put it, yes. He…"
Rilla raises an eyebrow. "He… what?"
Damien doesn't seem to know how to continue for a long moment, and then he shakes his head and takes both of her hands in his instead. "Rilla, oh Rilla, I must speak my heart."
"Had you stopped at some point?" she says, but her teasing tone falls a little flat, and his expression goes hurt as well as pleading. "Sorry. What- what do you need to say, Damien?"
"You know that I love you," he says, almost tearfully, "and I trust you. I trust your brilliance and I trust your judgment, but I am terrified, my love. I trust you with the whole of my heart, but- but I could not possibly trust him."
Rilla clenches her teeth, exhaling sharply. "Well, good. You don't have to trust him. All you gotta do is trust me, and everything will be fine. I have the situation totally under control."
"But…" Damien trails off weakly. "But what do you plan to do with him, Rilla? Surely- surely with your skill he will be mended in no time at all, but what happens then, my flower? You cannot keep him here like some sort of- of broken-winged pigeon, like some sort of pet-"
"Damien, he's not an animal-"
"Exactly, Rilla. What will you do , when he is healed? Do you intend to mend him and then let him traipse out your front door, to send him on his merry way? Do you intend to escort him home, to keep other knights at bay? What will you do?"
"I-" Rilla laughs uncomfortably, pulling her hands away. "Look, he's in no state to be considering all that just yet, Damien. He still can't even get out of the cot, really. There's no reason to get ahead of ourselves-"
"Rilla."
"That's so far down the line, Damien, you can't expect-"
"You cannot continue to treat him without a plan, love. An injured monster-" he sighs. "This creature… he does not currently pose a threat. That, I will concede. But when he is well again, you cannot know what he will do. Even if he feels he owes you to the point where he shall not harm you, how can you know he will not harm others, Rilla? How can you be certain that your kindness will not visit misery and death upon others?"
"He hasn't tried to hurt you either, Damien."
"I am armed, Rilla. It would be foolishness itself to attempt to-"
"Wouldn't be that hard to kill a man while he's asleep," Rilla says.
"I-" Damien pauses, swallows, looks decidedly uncomfortable. "I… I will concede that point as well. Though, it may be for your sake alone that he did not harm me. Clearly the debt he owes you is enormous, perhaps even a monster would understand the weight of such a mercy. But you cannot know he will not harm others when he is- if you allow him to leave this place."
Rilla narrows her eyes, just slightly. "Alright. So far, you've basically said that I can't keep him here and I can't let him leave, either. Kinda get the feeling that you're trying to paint me into a corner here, Damien."
"Rilla… my dearest, my love, you know what I must do." He gives a shaky sigh when she scowls and looks away from him. "Rilla, he cannot be allowed to live. It is far too dangerous-"
"Oh, so you're back to calling Arum an it again, now that you wanna talk about killing him?"
"N-" Damien cuts off, winces, then wrings his hands for a moment before he continues in a muted voice, "n-no, I- I was referring to- to the situation, not to the b-beast himself." He pauses again, visibly uncomfortable. "His… Ar- that is his… his name, then?"
"Yeah," Rilla says, still frowning. "It is. Though sometimes he gets pouty if you don't put Lord in front of it."
"Lord?" Damien echoes in surprise. "You- he- a Lord?"
"I mean, I don't know exactly what it entails, but apparently he rules that big swamp up north."
Damien blanches. "The Swamp of Titan's- that swamp? A deadly, dangerous, dire place! Oh, all the more reason for caution, for fear! Oh Saint Damien above, oh grace us with your Tranquility and wisdom, protect us from the cruelty of a beast who could tame such a place-"
"Alright, that doesn't seem fair. The jungle around the Citadel is dangerous too, Damien, but that doesn't mean you'd call the Queen cruel."
Damien swallows, his wild expression calming slightly as he fixes his eyes on her again. "I- I suppose that is- but, but! Rilla, that swamp has been even more dangerous than in the past, as of late. There are rumors, there are some truly frightening tales coming from the north recently-"
Damien pauses, then, and Rilla's face has gone blank as well. They stare at each other for a moment, both thinking quite similar things, and then Rilla's eyes flick to Arum's door, which is-
Still cracked open, just barely. Rilla swallows, uncomfortable, and when she speaks again her voice is more muted.
"That seems well beside the point, Damien, and I think you know that."
"Very well," Damien says, equally uncomfortable. "But you have not offered any solutions either, my love. You may say that the time when the beast will be well again is distant, but such time will slip past long before you are ready for it if you do not have a plan."
"My plan, Damien, is definitely not gonna be you killing him, even if I don't have another answer for you right now." She crosses her arms over her chest, trying not to let her voice become a shout. "I've been a little busy, if you haven't noticed, just keeping him alive in the first place. I haven't exactly had any time to plan out something that won't be an issue for- for a while, yet."
"A while," Damien echoes. "Do you not have an idea of how long, then? Is his situation still so precarious that you cannot speculate yet upon that?"
"He- I mean, his progress is still slow. It might speed slightly after I treat- well, there's a chance he'll start improving faster soon, but I don't exactly have a lot of experience with patients like him. It's not like I have a great idea of how long lizard-dragon-bugs take to get back on their feet, you know?"
"Indeed," Damien says. "Is that not all the more reason to be prepared, in anticipation that he may heal faster than you expect?"
"I haven't talked to him about it," Rilla admits. "I just- I'm not sure he trusts me completely yet, and there's a decent chance that a question like that will make him suspicious."
Damien blinks. "He does not trust you?" He scoffs, then shakes his head. "Of all the absurd-"
"I'm engaged to a man who's practically begging me to let him slay the beast," Rilla drawls. "If I were a monster, I wouldn't be the most trusting of someone like me either."
"But you saved the creature," Damien says dismissively. "Surely that-"
"Yeah, and I'm still trying to save him, Damien."
Damien inhales as if preparing to counter that, but then his eyes flick to the window, to the morning light outside, and he sighs. "I- I cannot stay much longer. I am- I intended to mention, last night, but my mind-"
"What, Damien?"
"I will be leaving, for- for a few days, at the very least. The new Investigator General will be bringing a rather small team to- to resolve a situation a little ways north." He pauses. "Not- not quite so far north as our previous discussion," he adds. "But- I am needed. As much as the idea of leaving you alone with such a creature terrifies me-"
"I don't know how many times I gotta say that he's not gonna hurt me before you get it, Damien."
"I don't know how you can be so sure, my love," Damien says softly, achingly. "I trust enough that I- that I will leave, I will leave you with the creature under your roof and your care, and I will not… I will not harm him, this day. But when I return… when I return, we will need to… to resolve this discussion. A decision must be made, and I think we both know that there is only one possible outcome. There is only one way to return our lives to normalcy, to ensure safety for the people it is both of our duties, in our own way, to protect."
"Uh." Rilla scowls. "We definitely don't both know that," she says, tone going sour with mocking. "Saints, I should make you a recording of me saying all the shit you seem determined not to understand. Maybe on the twelfth repeat you'll get the picture. He's my patient, Damien, which means it's my job to keep him safe. And if you want to hurt him so badly, that means I'll have to keep him safe from you, too."
"Rilla, please don't- don't-" he pauses, furrows his brow, and then sighs deeply. "No."
"No?"
"I cannot stay but a few minutes more. I believe this conversation is larger than our current time will allow. I do not enjoy the thought of leaving words unsaid-"
Rilla snorts a laugh. She really can't help it. She winces when he gives her an injured look.
"Er- yes. Regardless. We will resume this… discussion upon my return. Please, love, just- please do not grow complacent with this creature. Please take care. I love you too dearly to think that you could be in any sort of danger, but especially not danger that could be easily avoided with just the barest breath of caution. Please, love."
Rilla stuffs down her frustration, and instead comes close to him again. She touches his shoulder, and then just damns the whole situation and slips her arms around him in a hug instead. "I love you too, Damien," she sighs. "And you damn well better be careful out there too, whatever it is you're gonna be doing. Promise me you won't let yourself be distracted by this when you should be worrying about what's out there," she says, and then she pulls back enough to meet his eyes. She wonders for a moment if she looks quite as worried as he does. "I don't want to be the reason you get hurt, Damien."
"I promise," he says gently. "I assure you that I will be entirely focused, entirely engrossed in my mission until it is complete."
Rilla doesn't really believe that. Damien isn't exactly the best at keeping his mind from running away with him, but- it's nice to hear him say it, anyway. She sighs.
"C'mon, then. I'll help you get your armor back on, and then I'll walk you to the bridge, at least. I could do with a bit of fresh air."
~
Arum curls his claws in the sheets when he hears the door click shut, when he hears two distinct sets of footsteps maunder off into the day. Ten minutes or so, Amaryllis had casually (or less than casually, if the light strain in her voice had been any indication) called out to him through the door before she ran off with the knight. Ten minutes. That is how long she will be gone.
Not enough time to do everything he needs, but-
He waits only until he can no longer hear them, and then he pushes the blankets off. With a care bordering on the absurd (he cannot risk falling, he refuses to be set back again), he swings his legs out, letting his claws click on the hardwood below. Behind him, he curls his tail down and retrieves the first of his stolen prizes from beneath the bed. A crutch: primitive, so far as such tools go, but just tall enough to be useful to him, and he positions it beneath his lower right arm and grits his teeth and he stands-
He stands and does not fall, this time.
(Kicking the crutch back beneath the bed when he had fallen two days ago had been an exercise in flailing panic. He has rarely been more mortified.)
Arum stands, balancing carefully with the help of the crutch and his tail, and he breathes unsteadily for a long moment before he does anything else.
He has his goals in mind. He knows precisely where this little creature keeps everything he will need, even if he is not entirely steady enough to enact his plan just yet.
He has a deadline, now. When the knight returns from his newest expedition, Arum does not think Amaryllis will be able to keep him from slaying Arum, and- and now that Arum's suspicions about the Keep are all but confirmed-
(Rumors. What rumors? When Arum overheard those words he wanted to tear the blankets apart, wanted to roar and rage and demand that the knight explain- what does he mean, that the swamp, Arum's swamp, is becoming more dangerous? That it is growing more frightening? What does he mean? What is the Keep doing? What is happening to Arum's home, in his absence?)
He has a deadline. Arum will not wait, not a moment longer than absolutely necessary.
Either he will die in his planned attempt, or he will return home. One way or the other, his Keep will have a familiar again.
He grits his teeth, focuses on his balance, and step by careful step he begins to cross the room.
~
Arum is still safely in his cot, giving Rilla a baleful glare as she returns, and she stubbornly pretends that she hadn't been worried about that. It wasn't like she expected him to disappear, or to hurt himself by accident, but- Rilla hasn't really left the hut since she found the lizard. It just feels weird, to leave him alone.
"Here," Rilla says brightly, pressing a vial into Arum's hand as he blinks up at her, startled. "Take that, please."
"Wh-why?" he barks suspiciously, holding it away from himself. "What is it?"
"The antidote. It should neutralize what's left of the poison from that basilisk," she says, and she grins sharply when Arum flinches in surprise. "Yeah. I told you I was gonna figure it out. Honestly, it's a good thing I did, because even without that talon still in there, the poison would have taken a while for your body to naturally work through. So yeah, I'm just gonna reiterate the whole, it's important to just tell me things, thing. Y'know. If you actually want to get better."
Arum wrinkles his snout, narrows his eyes at the vial, then uncorks it and takes it in one go. His expression goes even more dour at the taste (understandable, Rilla thinks), and then he presses the empty glass back into Rilla's hands. "I would say I apologize, but I would be lying," he hisses. "Perhaps I would be more likely to trust if I were not receiving such wildly different messages from my two ambassadors to humanity."
Rilla snorts. "Yeah, that's not entirely unfair," she says. "Damien's not gonna be back for a few days or so, though, so you don't have to worry about him hovering for a while."
Arum raises an eyebrow. "Hm."
Rilla tucks the empty vial into a pocket and starts the routine of checking the monster over. It's becoming almost too familiar, by now, she thinks. She talks through it again to keep him comfortable, and he frowns deeply when she tsks at him over his frill, which she is beginning to worry might permanently bear some nicks and tears if he can't stop flaring it so frequently.
"It hardly matters," he mutters, looking away from her. "It's not as if it will kill me. It is only a frill."
"Yeah, but- well, I'm sure it still hurts, and whether or not you care about the aesthetic appearance, reopening the wounds over and over certainly isn't good for you. Just- try your best not to move it if you can, okay?"
Arum rolls his eyes. "Yes, doctor."
He tugs the blankets back up on his own (he's getting stronger, she notes with some satisfaction) and then he sighs, frowning and looking towards the window, despite the curtains in the way of his view.
There's something elegant about him, a sad sort of tension to his stillness, and Rilla has to bite back the urge to just ask-
What happens when you're healed?
She wishes Damien hadn't stuck the question in her head. It's just- a pain in the ass, really. She picks a different question instead.
("I think the creature is… I think he is restless," Damien says uncomfortably, when they are in sight of the bridge.
"Of course he's restless, Damien, he's barely better than bedridden."
Her voice bounces on the b's, and she smiles as she sees Damien tilt his head and file her words away for some later composition.
"Yes, needless to say," he says after a moment. "But what I mean is that he seems… understimulated? Or- bored, I suppose," he says with an awkward smile. "Perhaps it would be worthwhile to- to provide him with something to occupy his mind. To keep him out of trouble," the knight mumbles, his soft and calloused hand lightly squeezing her own.
Rilla wonders, brow furrowed, why she hadn't thought of that already.)
"Hey," she says, and he turns his face back toward her with a suspicious look. "Do monsters have their own written language?"
"No," he says, less suspicious now but certainly more concerned. "We have several. Many of them complex and individual and private and certainly not the business of some nosy human."
"Can you read our language?" she prods, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course," he grumbles. "It is only one language, it is easy enough to understand."
"Huh," she says. "Good to know."
He looks suspicious again at that, but he also looks tired, and she's familiar enough with that expression on his face to know that he'll probably be asleep again in ten minutes or so. That's fine. She's not sure exactly what kind of books a monster like him might enjoy reading, but Rilla can use his time napping to sift through her little library and find something that might just catch his interest.
Hell, if she's already going for treason, she might see if he'll have some insight into some of the books her dads left behind, while she's at it.
[->]
#<3<3<3#elle's fanfic#the penumbra podcast#second citadel#rad bouquet#lizard kissin' tuesday#sir damien#lord arum#amaryllis of exile#Yell Heah Baybee#scattered on my shore
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
>:3c hey i got two this week. happy LKT babes!!
Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 3)
[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [ao3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]
Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast
Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla
Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien
Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)
Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.
Chapter Summary: Sir Damien and Rilla discuss the issue at hand.
Chapter Notes: did u want: canon typical Damien spiraling? <3
~~
Arum is stable, the offending injury has been cleaned again and sealed and dressed and hopefully, hopefully, this time it will actually start to heal. Rilla’s mind buzzes, exhaustion and adrenaline and the satisfaction of a problem solved. That little shard of black talon (definitely talon, now that she’s seen it up close; add the satisfaction of a called shot, too) is safely and carefully stashed away in a clean sealed vial for later analysis, where it can’t do any more harm. And Arum-
The sedative probably won’t wear off for hours. Probably for the best, considering how exhausted he was before he went under. It’s probably just her imagination, just wishful thinking, but he looks… calmer. Like his sleep is more restful, now, than it had been. Imagination or no, she takes some satisfaction in that, too.
Rilla washes her hands, splashes her face, and when she meets her own eye in the little mirror above her washbasin she sees the bags under her eyes and the hair clouding around her face and the manic tilt to her expression and she- laughs.
Damien. Oh, Damien-
What the hell is she going to do about him?
She could be irritated with him just for coming into her exam room, whether or not the door was locked, but- well, it’s not like he wouldn’t have some rule breaking to throw back in her face. She sighs, dragging her palm over her mouth and noting the visible exhaustion that’s making her shoulders sag.
Well. No point putting it off, right?
She checks on Arum one more time, resettling the blankets more securely around his shoulders, ensuring that he’s warm enough, leaving a cup of water beside the bed in case he wakes before she does (whatever happens with Damien, however she gets him out of her hair, she’s going to get some sleep after this, she needs to).
Dead asleep, still, but- he mutters something, some whispery wordlessness as the back of her hand presses to his forehead to make sure his temperature is still consistent, and the breathy murmur and the way his resting expression goes even softer makes Rilla gently smile before she can help herself, and her brain is still buzzing as she thinks, rest well, you ridiculous monster, and heal.
She steps away from the cot, and she sighs, then. This next part is going to be unpleasant.
Damien is pacing in a straight line when she exits the exam room, turning on his heel to keep going in the same stuck path before he registers that she’s joining him, and then his eyes widen.
“Oh my heart, you are safe! Oh, my dearest Rilla, I was terrified that you had been- I felt only moments from bolting in to ensure that you had not been-”
“Damien. I wasn’t in danger,” she says, keeping her voice low and gesturing for Damien to follow her as she steps away from the door to the exam room, away from the possibility of waking Arum accidentally. Her hut isn’t that big, and it’s not like they could have this conversation outside, but they can at least stand in the kitchen, a little ways away where they won’t literally be shouting (she assumes they’ll end up shouting, frankly) so damn close to Arum.
“I know you are terribly brave, my love,” Damien says as he stumbles behind. “But surely even you must understand- I do not know what sort of- of experiment you are intending to run, but I must advise-”
“He’s not an experiment,” Rilla growls, bristling because she already, already regrets the brief window during which she… did kind of think of him that way. He deserves better than that.
“Regardless, regardless of the why, it cannot continue, surely you must understand that. The danger- the danger the creature presents, to yourself, to any other patients you may have, to the Citadel itself! Rilla surely you can see that it must be destroyed-”
“You’re not touching him, Damien. He’s my patient-”
“It is a monster-”
“Yeah, I gathered that Damien, thanks, but you still aren’t touching him. He’s my patient, and he’s one of a kind, and he’s not gonna hurt me. If he wanted to, he definitely already would have tried something. He’s still weak as hell but he’s stubborn and he would have tried, if he really wanted.”
“Of course the monster wants to hurt you, my precious flower. That is simply what monsters do.”
Rilla scowls hard, turning away from him to pull the curtains aside, realizing with no small degree of wonder that it’s dark outside again. Already. Already? Before she woke Arum to discuss pulling the talon out, she’s sure it couldn’t have been much past sunrise. Saints she needs to sleep. But before she can-
“Damien, I’m gonna put this as simply as I can. He is my patient. That means that it’s my job to take care of him, and to make sure he’s safe and that his injuries are treated. I’m finally at a point where I’m making progress, and-”
“Finally,” Damien echoes, his brow furrowing as his thoughts churn. “Finally? How long have you- how long has this been going on, precisely?”
“Few days,” Rilla says, noncommittal. She- she isn’t quite sure, anymore. She’s been keeping hourly notes, coded longhand, but she’d put it on pause for the surgery, and-
“So,” he says, sounding pained, “when I came to you last, and asked-”
“I lied,” she says flatly. “I lied, because I knew you would respond like this.”
“I am attempting to do my duty, my love. I must protect you and every citizen of the Citadel, must cleanse the monsters' blight upon this land-”
“Not this monster,” Rilla says. “Not him. He doesn’t need cleansing.” She grins, a little wildly. “I already disinfected him pretty thoroughly.”
“You cannot jest about this, Rilla. Surely, surely you know I cannot allow this, it is-”
“Treason?”
Damien blanches, his face going vaguely ashen, and his voice is near-mournful when he answers. “Rilla, my heart, my forever-flower you know that I would never accuse you of something so vile-”
“Even if it’s technically true?”
Damien’s entire expression freezes, as if she has stabbed him. “You can’t mean that. You wouldn’t-”
“He was hurt, Damien,” Rilla says. “And I’m a doctor. I’m just doing my job, as far as I’m concerned. But I very much doubt that the Citadel will see it that way.”
“He is a monster, my love- he could- he could do anything to you, he could kill you or steal you away or-”
Rilla rolls her eyes. “Or lie in bed complaining about the fact that he’s too weak to even stand. Oh no. Whatever will I do to defend myself against the constant annoyance of monsterkind.”
“Rilla you have seen as well as I have the cruelties done by its ilk, the violence and pain! Any benevolence must be a trick, it must be, meant to lull you into a false sense of safety around such a dangerous beast! A devious machination, meant to make you lower your guard for the moment he will strike and then what, my dearest love? What will happen, when you, with your gentle miraculous healing hands, deliver the beast back to strength enough that he may enact his plan? Oh Saint Damien protect us, what will happen when he has been healed enough to harm again? What then, my Rilla?”
“He’s not gonna hurt me,” Rilla says, entirely dismissive. “He won’t. He-” she interrupts herself with a deep yawn, jaw going wide as tears pop into her eyes. “Oh, Saints. I thought I could have this argument right now but I absolutely can’t, Damien. Can you please just trust me, at least enough not to do anything tonight? Go back to the Citadel and we can talk about this in the morning. Right now, I’ve barely slept since I found him, and now that I think I’ve finally dealt with the worst of it and got him stable- I could really use a frickin’ nap.”
“No,” Damien says, slashing his hand through the air. “No, I refuse to leave you helpless and unprotected while that- that creature-”
“My patient.”
“Awaits a moment of weakness! Awaits a moment of vulnerability, wherein he may creep close and destroy you, or curse you, or- or any number of terrible intentions that could come to pass the very instant your mind is settled into well-deserved rest, my love. I cannot stand idly by while-”
“Oh for Saints’ sake, Damien, he’s sedated. He’s not going to slit my throat in my sleep. I promise.”
“It could all be a trick, Rilla. Even with your brilliant mind- the machinations of monsterkind are often more clever than one would expect, and what if this is all some scheme? You are a genius, my Rilla, the greatest doctor in all of the Citadel, and certainly the monsters at large are aware of your prowess, are aware of how many precious lives you have personally gentled back to the realm of the living after countless heinous beasts have expended their most vicious effort to send them to their grave! A doctor of your skill and status- surely monsterkind must be desperate to remove your ferocious protective presence from thwarting their attempts-”
“Damien. First, please try to keep your volume down. I know this is- stressful for you, but the hut is small and the yelling is- not helpful. Second- it’s really flattering that you think they’d pay that much attention to me but I really think you’re overreacting.” She takes a moment to breathe, then sighs quite deeply. “Look, if you’re so worried about it, you can stay here for the night.” She smiles gently, reaching a hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sure you already had a long day before coming over here. Come to bed with me? If it’ll make you feel better, if it’ll make you feel like I’m safer, you know that I love sleeping with your arms around me-”
“I cannot lie idle and sleeping while such a beast rests but one room over, Rilla! I cannot sleep at all while it remains a threat-”
Rilla sighs and drops her hand. “Fine, Damien, fine. If you don’t want to rest with me, then you don’t have to, but I am going to bed and you are not touching my patient. Understand me?” She glares, and the force of her ire could knock Damien to the floor. His mouth goes dry, his words freezing. “If you undo any of my hard work I will not forgive you for that. Do you understand me? I will not forgive you,” she says in a low voice, and Damien swallows. “I don’t care if you wanna sit and guard the door, that’s annoying but it won’t hurt anything, but don’t you dare interrupt his rest.” She pauses. “Or mine, for that matter. Now if you’ll excuse me, Sir Damien?”
She gives him a tight, angry sort of smile, then excuses herself towards her bedroom, her shoulders already sagging again with the weight of her exhaustion, and Damien’s heart aches for her, aches for her to be safe and rested and in his arms-
But he must do his duty, first. He must protect her.
Damien paces outside the door to the room the monster currently occupies, his mind roiling and racing and terrified, and he whispers low for guidance. Rilla’s hut is not particularly large, and he has learned his lesson many times that if he prays as he naturally wishes to, he will keep his beloved from sleep rather effectively, and he does not wish to anger her any further just now. So: whispers. Saint Damien will hear him just as well, anyway. It is only for the throbbing in his own heart that his volume yearns to rise.
A monster. A monster, and his beloved Rilla so determined to see it healthy again. One of a kind- and certainly that is even more of a danger than if this were some ordinary ogre, is it not? What tricks might this beast possess? He could have any magic, and skill, any trick up his sleeve-
“What if it is is not sleeping?” He whispers, eyes sharp on the door as he paces, compulsively drawing his bow, the curve of it feeling like safety in his hand. “What if it is already scheming, already creeping towards my Rilla’s room?” His volume is rising, he can barely control it, he tries, but the words are a deluge he caught up in, helpless, helpless. “What if it is already crawling close to her bedside while she breathes light and lovely into her pillow and then it smiles a demon’s smile in the dark and it laughs at her precious kindness and then at last it raises a savage claw-”
Damien chokes a breath, pressing a hand hard over his heart and another over his mouth. No. No, he is between the beast and his beloved. He would have seen- he would know. That- that is merely his fear taking him by the throat. He must stand tranquil against it.
“Saint Damien- oh Saint Damien please,” he murmurs low, wringing his hands and trying, oh trying to slow his breathing. “Please your tranquility my Saint, I must be tranquil if I am to keep her safe, as she deserves to be-”
Rilla forbade him from harming her “patient.” Forbade him from disturbing its rest, as absurd as that is (what foul dreams fill a monster’s mind in repose? What passes for peace in such a violent, chaotic creature?). But-
She did not forbid him from entering the room. Did she?
He considers that. He looks to Rilla’s bedroom door, closed tight against him.
No- not closed tight. If he abandons his charge to protect her and goes to lay by her side, he is certain that she will gather him up in her arms and her bed and soon he will be blessed to hold her soft and lightly snoring in his arms. She is angry with him, in some misguided way, but she did not lock the door. She would not lock him out.
She did not lock him out of the room where the monster coils, either, though.
He ponders, for a few moments longer, before the thought springs unbidden again- the monster, slipping off of Rilla’s examination cot, slithering across the floor, up the walls, over the ceiling-
What powers it may have, Damien does not know. Camouflage? The ability to creep, silent? He does know of the viciously sharp claws this creature possesses, the jagged teeth that showed in his slackly open mouth-
What if it is attempting to escape?
Out the window, yes, and then- anywhere. It could slither off to find cohorts, other beasts with which to return, to raze Rilla’s cozy, humble home to the ground. It could slink around the side of the hut, could find another window- Rilla’s window, could insinuate itself back inside and-
Another deep, shaking breath.
No. Even if the creature is silent, Damien will hear the pane of glass shatter, if the creature escapes.
He cannot simply-
Damien cannot-
Every moment it is unoccupied, his mind will spin. It will tumble down into the darkness of catastrophe, will show him newer and darker possibilities, and so long as he does not know, not for certain, what the monster is doing in there, Damien will be trapped by these feelings, these foul potentialities.
He must enter. He must have his eyes on this beast. It cannot possibly harm Rilla nor anyone else, if he has it safely under his scrutiny.
And Rilla did not forbid him from entering.
He has one hand on the knob of the door, one on his bow, and he creaks the wood open. His entire frame tenses for the strike, whether that strike be his own or the leaping of the monster, but no such strike occurs. It is dim, in the room. Dim, and still, and quiet.
It is mostly quiet, anyway. After a pause, the door ajar but not yet passed through, Damien recognizes the slow, soft noise of breath, coming from inside. He frowns, but he supposes that it is better, is it not, to know that the beast is still where he can keep an eye upon it. If he had opened this door and it was still as death, and there were no noises of life whatsoever- certainly that would have been a more frightening outcome.
Damien takes a step, and then another, and he leaves his hand on the knob as he suspiciously enters this shadowed place.
Still, no attack comes. The light pouring in through the doorframe illuminates enough that Damien can see the shape on the cot, a long figure curled slightly on its side, covers shifting slowly above its chest.
The monster breathes.
It is repellent. This creature, this vile thing soft-sleeping here in a room meant for human healing, for care, for the comfort of his lovely Rilla’s talents and compassion, it is abhorrent. And Damien knows that Rilla is compassionate, oh certainly she is, but this- this? Certainly, certainly, love, there must be some limits, mustn’t there?
The monster breathes and sleeps and does not move, and Damien is even more nervous, even more furious than he was before.
He paces, but the sound of his shoes clicking on the floor sets his teeth on edge. What- what if his noise wakes the creature? If it attacks him, certainly it would be justifiable, to retaliate. Of course it would. But-
Rilla warned him not to disturb the creature’s rest.
So, until she wakes again, at least, he will not.
There is a stool, close beside the bed. When he had entered earlier, Rilla had been perched just in front of it with her hands on the beast, as if she had been seated at some point, and slowly edged forward in tension and focus until she had hovered entirely away.
If Damien wishes to sit, he is going to need to come close enough to the beast to take the seat for himself.
He takes each step across the floor as if it could be rigged with traps, as if more monsters might leap from any given shadow. This… proves unjustified. Yet again Damien is unmolested by monstrous intent, and when he comes close by the bed he stares down at the creature.
Evil. Evil made manifest. Long limbs hidden beneath layers of cloth, sharp claws obscured, the angularity of that body made slack and strange by sleep, that reptilian face-
The monster’s mouth hangs just slightly open, the tips of sharp fangs barely, barely visible behind his thin lips, the ridged line of his brow softened, the low light gleaming on his colorful, mottled scales-
Damien’s jaw tightens. He picks up the stool and moves it away from the bed, moves it to the corner nearest the door, and he perches up upon it facing the bed with a hand on his bow and a scowl set on his face.
The monster does not wake for this, either.
He scowls for quite some time, until his cheeks are a little bit sore. Then he settles into a glare, his determination too strong to be unsettled by boredom. This is only a trick, regardless of the way this creature looks- fragile, curled there on Rilla’s examination cot. More of his scales are bandaged than not, from what Damien saw earlier, when Rilla was working upon him, and the frill at his neck is nearly in tatters, one of his elegantly curved horns cracked (Damien wonders if that is the sort of thing that heals- not that this creature will have time to find that out, of course), and even despite the undeserved serenity of sleep this monster looks exhausted.
A trick. All of it a trick, of course.
… but a very, very convincing one.
[->]
#elle's fanfic#the penumbra podcast#second citadel#rad bouquet#lizard kissin' tuesday#amaryllis of exile#lord arum#sir damien#~~spiral time babeyyyyy~~#please im dying#god i can't wait for the next chapter of this too fjadslkjfa;sldjf#please. tell me. if you like this. i (like damien) am spiraling#scattered on my shore
10 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ilsafaustt
Untitled
frankentineblr-blog
screams directly into photoshop
bizarre-trait
crazy noisy bizarre sims
blues-valentine
forever after that
thedecorationszone
InNewView