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keeper-of-all-the-random-things · 1 year

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I posted 2,536 times in 2022

That's 2,219 more posts than 2021!

49 posts created (2%)

2,487 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-can-even-burn-salad

@soaveintermezzo

@ashintheairlikesnow

@darkthingshappen

@orchidscript

I tagged 207 of my posts in 2022

#i love cats - 46 posts

#cats - 28 posts

#hiya! - 23 posts

#cat - 13 posts

#inktober - 11 posts

#inktober2022 - 11 posts

#wij22 - 10 posts

#whumpmasinjuly - 10 posts

#whumptober2022 - 6 posts

#whumptober - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#my sister and i would play sumo wrestlers.... we'd tied blankets on our chests and stuff them with other blankets and stuffed animals...

My Top Posts in 2022:

(Re) Introduction

Hiya!

I'm Paisley, and I've been here since 2020.

To theme - some random stuff:

I'm not great at finishing stuff, but I try.

I enjoy reading about kidnapping and captivity stuff, and all the sassy people (whumpee, whumper, caregiver, you name it, love the sass)

I prefer reading about male whumpees but have found i gravitate toward female whumpees in my own writing.

Other stuff i enjoy includes drawing, playing music, and sewing.

I am glad to be part of this community and am excited to see what pops up next :D

p.s. i will accept pictures of anyone's cats. i love cats. they are all my babies.

@whumpmasinjuly

5 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

Underrated Whump

@darkthingshappen Brother's Keeper and @whumpcereal Behavior Modification both hit me at the same time and my goodness are they glorious. Those poor boys. I'm thoroughly invested.

@short-form-whump All their scenarios are so vivid; they say a lot in a few words. I would love to write stuff based on these scenarios, but my braincells do what they want :|

9 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

Fleeting Clarity

@the-whumpers-soiree What a cool event.

Never have a completed a piece in such record time. One day. I think it went well. And it's still May, so it counts towards my monthly goal. Woo!

CW: Noncon drugging, Alcohol Consumption

Emmett dislikes parties. He knows he dislikes them, and yet he continues to go. He says it’s to “broaden his horizons” or some other cheap cliche, but that’s not it. He’s looking for the best friend he’s never met. Two months of messaging and it feels like this stranger is Emmett’s perfect, nameless, other half. The One. They never make demands or push Emmett to go outside his comfort zone. But Emmett wants to be better for them, to grow. So he seeks out social gatherings, hoping to find The One and clinging to the idea that he will just know when he meets them.

Then there is something new. A short message “It’s been long enough. We should meet.” and an invitation to a … soiree. It sounds fancier than anything Emmett’s ever been to, but this is what he’s been waiting for. He quickly sends an affirmative reply. He receives a second message with instructions on when to show up and what to wear. He agrees to everything.

The night of the party, Emmett arrives twenty minutes early. He hasn’t worn his dress pants in over a year, and they fit snugly around his waist. He fidgets and pulls at the legs, trying to keep them from looking like flood pants. Ten minutes later, he gives up on his pants and enters the penthouse. He receives a blue glow stick which he circles through the belt loop on his right hip, just as The One had asked.

He knows he’s early, so he goes to the bar to kill time. The guests already there appear otherworldly under the gold lights. The same lights make all the drinks look like potions or strange science experiments. Emmett tries not to think too hard about it, chooses one at random, and moves away to the other side of the building where chairs are lined up along floor to ceiling windows. Here it is bathed in softer blue light. Emmett is instantly calmer and selects a seat in the corner to wait for his other half. He watches the assortment of people who pass by, all impeccably dressed, most with blue bands like his, some with red bands. He guesses those with red are somehow responsible for the party, hosts or VIP guests or … something.

In the middle of that thought, a man with a red band approaches him. Emmett stands to greet him, clutching his drink like a lifeline.

“You know the bracelet is supposed to go on your wrist, right?” The stranger chuckles.

Emmett glances down at the blue ring on his hip then back at the man. “I… uh… meeting someone… told me… I mean… yes. Yes, I know.” He blushes, embarrassed by his sudden inability to form coherent thoughts. He stares wide eyed at the man and wishes he had bought a suit that actually fit him.

The stranger laughs again. “It’s alright, you can wear it wherever you want as long as we can see it. Anyways, I’ve found you now, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Oh, it’s you!”

“Yes, it’s me, live and in person.” He smiles with all his teeth, arms spread wide like a tv announcer.

Emmett is far out of his league. This man is everything Emmett could never be - tall, fit, tailored suit worn with the air of deliberate dishevelment. And the red band.

“Do you work here?” Emmett blurts.

“No, why?” The man raises a brow, smile never leaving his face.

“Oh, um,” Emmett starts picking at his pant leg. “I just thought with the red bands, it was important to the party. Like security. I saw some people with red bands helping guests out.”

“They’re important, but not for security.” The man continues to grin as if this conversation were the greatest thing to ever happen to him. Emmett knows it can’t be. He frowns, suddenly aware of how much of a stranger this man really is.

“You okay?” the man asks. “Do you need to go outside?”

Emmett shakes his head and sits back down. “I’m fine. Could we sit for a little while?”

“Of course. Let me get you something else to drink. That one there is like drinking death.” He takes Emmett’s glass and heads to the bar. Emmett watches as he leans over the counter, the yellow light casting a halo around him. Emmett’s stomach rolls, and he can’t be sure if it’s excitement or nervousness.

The man returns with a short glass of blue liquid. Emmett thinks it doesn’t look much better than the last one, but slowly sips it to be polite. The two are quiet for a few minutes, Emmett drinking, and the man watching with that stupid, relentless grin. Somehow, he seems more of a stranger now than when they had never met.

“So, what do you want to do this evening?” The man leans back in his chair. “After all, the night is young, and we are limitless.”

“Can we just talk?” Emmett chews on a piece of ice, surprised at how fast the drink disappeared. “I…I feel like I don’t know you that well.”

“Yes, of course. What do you want to know?”

“I…um, I,” Emmett places his empty glass on the ground by his feet and grips the side of his chair. His vision begins an uneven roll matching the feeling in his stomach. “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. We have all the time in the world.” The stranger’s face distorts, his eyes dark, and his smile growing feral.

Emmett’s world spins. “What… what’s happening?”

He is on the ground, vaguely aware of melted ice seeping into his pants. It’s the flood pants. He giggles at the passing thought. The ice is surprisingly warm.

See the full post

10 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

Good days ahead!

I got all the books at once! It’s going to be a glorious November.

@the-modern-typewriter

@avoliot

20 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hiya!

Surprise! I'm not dead but the quarter life crisis is real.

I figured I would re-introduce myself since I have been away for so long, I've learned some stuff about myself, and I think I did it wrong last time. So:

I'm Paisley, she/her, ace, socially awkward chipmunk. This blog is kind of all over the place, quite random as the name implies, but I like the whump, specifically: guys in distress (*sigh* don't we all), blindfolds and gags, kidnapping, and the Box Boy Universe in general. I don't mind reading about le spice/NSFW, but it will probably not be featured in my writing.

As far as my writing goes, my main OCs are Alex and Wes (but mostly Alex because she's been living in my head for years inserting herself into other people's stories and finally gets her own.) They exist within the BBU, but each follows a vastly different path to where they meet.

My other writing is generally short pieces based on prompts or ideas that don't fit into the main story (all the random stuff).

My list of inspiration/favorite blogs has expanded since the last time I tried this intro thing: @orchidscript @ashintheairlikesnow @deluxewhump @knivestothroats @pretty-face-breaker @whump-tr0pes @thoughtsonhurtandcomfort @fyeahvulnerablemen

My Goals for 2022:

I. Write and share one longer writing piece per month.

II. Be more interactive with all the lovely people of the whumblr/wriblr community.

Happy new year everyone! Thanks for sticking with me. 😊

45 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #half my tags are cats….#I realize I don’t tag reblogs often #if I wait till I can copy tags or think of comments I often don’t end up reblogging at all #brain works better when I can reblog right away and send happy messages later when I can fully articulate my thoughts #I try really hard to tag my own stuff well

6 notes · View notes

lovesickeros · 5 months

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."