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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

Antinomy

Part 2; things are brewing. VIBE

“Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You’ll find it quite intriguing, funny even… until it starts making sense.” You’ve witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 5217

Themes -> Friends to admirers, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 1

Warning -> Blood and injury

Maybe it was stubbornness, his unhinged desire for the thrill of a fight, or you mistaken misguidance. Many possibilities, really, but Childe knows it had nothing to do with all of those. You're not to blame for his mistakes, but he sure as hell would have to pay for the mess he just created.

vi. fontaine

The show felt like a dance made to lure and trance such audience, and despite his resolve and difference in agendas, the strong Harbinger had been victim to the beauty of the show. Of swaying thin clothes and alluring flicks of the hips.

“We’re not co-workers, we don’t know each other, remember that.”

Tambourines and lyres synced through the performance as men and women alike cheered and stumbled to the songs. The Snezhnayan dancers set the bar high in terms of beauty as the Fatui disguised as performers indulged the crowd in symphony and dance, as if the whole nation was under a mania, no one saw and no one heard. They just followed lead as the agents lulled their own targets into a sense of security and joy.

In the middle of the crowd you lead the choreography as the main dancer, distinguished by the colors of your garb and its grandiosity, yet still respectably covered compared to the other performers. Your main objective was to catch the havoc of a man that left the headquarters of your organization in flames at his wake; and yet, it was instead Childe that was allured to your spell.

An intoxicated man had been eyeing your behind with drooling eyes for a while now, and with the assistance of liquid courage, he reached his hand out to get a feel- when it landed on gray pants of firmness. “Oh my, I didn’t know you swing that way, citizen,” you whipped around to see Childe directly behind you, who was also has his head angled to look behind him where a Fontaine man stumbled back in disgust. His hand clutched to his chest as if it were burned. “Sad news tho, I’m off the table, try someone else maybe.”

Before you can register the edge in his voice, he was already guiding you by the hand back to your dancing stride. You were momentarily stunned but devolved into a glare at his current recklessness, “Come now, Lady Viscaria.” He addressed you by your dancer name. “The whole world is high in the clouds around us, this would be a moment no one will remember.” You didn’t even need to look to know he was right, and you succumbed with a sigh.

Childe didn’t realize just how small your hands are compare to his, the softness of it in contrast to the rough texture of his gloves. If he knew, if only he knew, he would have removed them before you had entertained the idea. Your steps were lithe and your turns were grace manifested, eyes closed yet a gentle smile equipped on your face, the ones you had been wearing ever since you started the performance. “So this is how you fight.” He mumbled with his own grin when he had spun you back against his form, your feet glides against the pavement yet barely touching it as you seemingly floated to place. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were an Anemo Vision wielder.

Soon enough the square dissipated to give way to the ferocious dance you two had eased into. Steps became more pointed, arms tensed and strong, and the turns was almost reminiscent of martial arts as you seemingly evade each other’s swings. Suddenly a kick aimed to hit his chest forced him to jump back, and at the other side you dropped your foot, a taunting smirk and a condescending gaze set upon him. His blue eyes widened.

And the elegance of the tango from earlier turned into a vicious round of capoeira, powerful kicks and jumps yet not made to touch each other. Your figure leaped into a crescent kick when he had made a sweep to hit your ankles, him immediately rolling to the side to evade the blow. Dropping to the ground with your ankles and knees bent, a leg outstretched you gasped, and went into a running start towards him, “Lift!” A single command yet he knew what he needed to do.

Gripping your hips upon your leap his strong arms easily eased you high up, your legs were kicked high up and one bent farther back and you steadied yourself by gripping on to his shoulders. The atmosphere turned tense and the only sound you can hear were the ragged breaths you heave up close. And the crowd around then explodes into a round of applause.

Childe seemed to have snapped out of a trance from the foreign noise, breaking the eye contact you both held as he slowly placed you down. There was a sudden bashfulness to him then. But was once again pulled away from his reverie when you quite literally pulled him out of the square into a dark alley, eyes glinting dangerously as a toothy smirk donned your lips, “I saw him, the redhead.”

...

The chains felt sentient. As it flies forward to try and capture him, Childe conjured a wave to sweep it away only for it to change angles to strike at him again. It pierced through the pavement he was once on before it moved to retract back to the owner. At the other side, Childe had a glimpse of your more successful fight with the fugitive as your polearm easily deflected the advances of the chains, even if it gets caught sometimes. Your Cryo Vision would always make quick work of freezing and breaking the chains.

None of you expected a non-elemental fight, and this seemed more complicated of a battle than you would have thought. The man carried with him the aura you feel when you use your delusion, you grimly thought as you ducked out of another barrage, sensing the frustration and desperation of the enemy. You were barely breaking a sweat, you’d see his red eyes take notice, and you weren’t even using both of your hands to fight. With another smirk, your Vision then glowed by your side as you raised your arm. The hooded man braced for impact, but instead he felt a force hit his lower half- water current from Childe, and suddenly it solidified to ice upon your avalanche. His hand where the strange device were also covered to render him useless.

An arrow and a spear’s tip was now aimed to his heart. “Well, well, that was a nice fight, Ragnvindr,” you leaned down close enough to see the finer details of his hawk mask, you saw his eyes squint into a glare. He knows he lost. By your side Childe relaxed his arms and dematerialized his bow, the next part should be yours to work on. “Thank you for your dedication, but this atrocity ends now.” You straightened your back and took a step back, angling your spear to his throat. As his eyes close to succumb to death, your head would angle itself slightly to see Childe’s reaction

when a golden flicker appeared past his shoulder.

“CHILDE!” The devil himself felt the air leave his lungs at the force that punched at his chest, enough to immobilize him as he was punted to the ground. Before he could even recover, the pavement around shifted and crumbled to create a wall between him and the frozen Diluc. He heard the ice breaking and two pairs of feet scrambling away. “Fuck, he had an accomplice,” he breathed as he took his stand, about to give chase to the escapees. That is until he registered his mentor-

barely standing with a stalagmite pierced through her stomach.

“Chi...lde.” You gripped the pointed tip of the structure to keep yourself up as your legs started to lose feeling. He was there hovering over you, unsure where to touch or how to assist. Fuck. Fuck. This was his fault. “Go... chase, I’ll be- I’ll be fine...”

And then you blacked out.

vii. seven correspondence

There were multiple parchment of the same color littering his office desk filled with different lengths of paragraphs. Childe's quarters in the palace was cozy and wide, and nothing could be heard but the sound of his fountain pen scratching the surface of the paper with ease.

"Letters are important in Snezhnaya," you perked up from your unfocused gaze from his window, where you silently watched the brewing blizzard manifesting outside. Your eyes made contact with his genuinely gentle ones that still lingered at the task at hand, "why not write one?"

"Letters are commonplace in Snezhnaya," you corrected as you made your way to his side to snoop in his letters. He did not seem to mind. After all you'd pretty much already the whole of his family that one awkward encounter. He was working on the seventh letter and your eyes lingered around the six finished ones: there was one for each younger siblings, one meant for the two older brothers, another for the older sister, and one for his parents. "It's not necessary for me to write, I don't have an address in mind to begin with."

Is that so, he mumbled under his breath before the conversation died down once again to little scratches. A lot of his words had tales to tell about his stay in Fontaine, you realized the most details were poured into the contents for his parents. At the mention of this nation, your hand ghosts over your stomach.

The bandages from long ago had already been dispatched. And yet the stiffness of it has still affected your composure as well as the weird pull of the skin from the stitches. Only a nasty scar was left in its wake to remind you of the failed encounter and it forced you to make drastic wardrobe changes to your performing attire.

You saw Childe's shoulders slightly tense at your action.

"Childe," his grip on the pen tightened yet he kept his head down. You didn't mind. His mind was going overdrive again, probably. "Who are you writing that last letter for?"

He felt like he'd dodged an arrow over the way he had relaxed, slumped down even when he met eyes with better resolution within it. "It's for a special someone," his signature smile was back, "I've met her long ago and I've always made sure to send her a letter yearly as thanks."

Thanks? "Thanks?" The letter (it was short, you realized) was already folded before you could peek at the words within. You knew Childe was good-looking, but for him to have a girlfriend waiting for years as he drowns in his work, quite irrational and yet painful. Painful... to you?

"I've met a girl back when I was 14," he was suddenly up and bustling as he bundled up his letters. Urgent you followed to listen to his tale as best as you can with his long legs. "I never knew her name or her face, but she saved me from the wolves back in Morepesok. I never properly gave her my thanks, so yearly I would leave letters at the woods where she'd gone, and hope that she'll be able to read them and know that I lived because of her." You already halted your advances to chase after him as you stood before the doors of the Palace. He didn't seem to mind, he kept going until he was gone.

...Morepesok was a seaside fishing village with a vast white forest by the edges in which ferocious wolves and bears usually haunt. After your promotion to the Palace, you had never once set foot in the village, much less the woodland. Where you are right now.

You held a steady hand against your stomach as you retraced the familiar route you'd gone, something so far away you would have expected to forget it by now. That was six years ago, you counted as you reached the clearing in horror of its emptiness, there should be six letters here by now.

A snapping twig had you whirling to look behind you. "So, it really was you." His gentle blue orbs had met your widened ones, breathless you both were, but for different reasons.

"So you lied about the letters," the mocking pout on your lips had made him laugh. A sprinkle of red dusts his cheeks, and he was quick to hide it with the familiar letter on his hand.

"I didn't lie about this one," your upturned palms received the crispy envelope, carefully opening the seal and unfolding its contents, "I wanted to make sure I was right."

'Your sacrifice had given me a new chance, a new life, a new beginning. I wish I was there to thank you for protecting me, but this time, I will get stronger and make sure-'

"I'll be the one protecting you from now on." He finished, and the red dust over your own cheeks felt like torches made to melt the mightiest icicles.

viii. fleeting glances

Signora had always been the type of person to only make appearances when necessary, but most of her dirty work were done by her subordinates, her own little army. She's the coordinator and observer at the back as things were weaved into place for her. Like a flower on the wall, the Fair Lady knows and notices details.

The first one was by the entrance, the second was by the veranda. The third, fourth and fifth were by the hallways. The sixth was by the throne room. The seventh was outside. And the eight was that in front of her—

Childe disliked being in the same area or even breathing space as her, this much Signora knew. He was a kid still under training over the ways of the Fatui, but there was nothing more he hated than the way the Fair Lady handles her work, her soldiers. But it came with the aesthetic, and he had no other means to pry until he had finally grasped the way the cogs turn in this organization known as the Fatui.

The youngest Harbinger never looked her directly in the eye or even dare spare her the glance when it was not needed. And in all honesty, it was quite bothersome the first few times. After all, Tartaglia carried with him a certain charm.

His eyes would either narrow or be guarded for any other Harbinger that comes his way, respectful or dismissive, the options fleet through those whenever. But there was one humane and warm look he gives at special occasions, for a special someone, and Signora finally witnessed it in full view and detail—

The crease between his eyebrows would immediately ease as his eyes break free from its squinted, slanted form. The dark depths at the middle would dilate as his expression quirks up, teeth usually visible through parted lips as he dons an easy smile. And Signora would be taken aback by the immediate change as she follows the trail of his stare.

The gold was the first to strike with the way the trinkets hang by the waist, and the warm and mellow colors so contrary to the Fatui colors draws away the unease of onlookers. It was to make sure that no association with the Fatui would be made, that was your calculated explanation was upon your choice of 'uniform.' You've just came from a short trip to Natlan to gather all data to be reported to the Tsaritsa, and during that time the 11th had been under no one's particular care.

You passed by their forms (pass is a strong word, they were off to the far side, honestly) with your report in hand, humming to yourself as you continued your way to the throne room. That demeanor only means that you had good news to tell, good news for everyone.

The glance was gone fast as the moment ended, and his hard look came albeit much lighter this time. But the way Signora smirked signified she'd noticed, and his look only grew stiffer.

"Come now, pretty boy, show that look often."

The Fair Lady's laugh echoed inside the Palace walls as Tartaglia stomps off to where you had gone, to wait after the dusk convention respectfully.

ix. years of employment

Of the many milestones that could have been celebrated, it was done in an odd number at the most peculiar time. Yes, it is no surprise for everyone to know that you had been working for the Fatui for nine whole years now. And honestly, you shouldn't have been surprised that your younger colleague with the weird ways of his Abyss-induced brains, decided that it was time your anniversary be celebrated instead of waiting another year for the double digits mark.

"Please tell me we're not going to your house again," you softly pleaded as Childe continued to guide you through the paths in the main city of Snezhnaya. "As much as I appreciate their caring atmosphere, I'm not too keen on the idea of pretending to be the head honcho of the toy-selling company of Snezhnaya."

To this, Childe guffawed to a boisterous laugh, pulling his hand away from your back to clutch at his convulsing stomach. You pursed your lips in distaste of his reaction, but then it would loosen up to a smile as you watched him still try to catch his breathe.

After that, the trip had continued with only small chatter in between as you descended further to the edges of the city. You haven't been to this area, simply because of the fact that there were no patrols needed around the cityless wasteland where you are headed, and the glint of surprise had fixed a knot at Childe's back. Relief painted his face.

And you found yourself in front of a frozen lake, with hanging lights decorating the leafless trees by it, and a small table filled to the brim with food. "Lady toyseller!" You shot a glare at your student who averted his gaze away easily to focus on his other siblings. This heretic lied—

"Big brother said it's a special occasion! To commemorate your anniversaries for being in the toyselling business!" Your glare died down to a look of confusion, and the family gathered back into a homely atmosphere. So it seems that Childe coincidentally joined the Fatui the same day as you, two years apart. And he said nothing about it.

"We've been celebrating since the last three years, if we had known, you could have been with us!" And with that you were pulled in by Tonia to the table where her mother was, congratulating you for your hardwork and patience as she offers you to taste some of the food they had brought for the picnic.

"I know you've been helping my son ever since he became a Harbinger," you looked up to Childe's mother in wonder as your mouth was currently stuffed with her delicious homemade Pelmeni. She gave a light laugh at the sight of your wide, curious eyes paired with stuffed cheeks. "Childe mentioned how you saved him when he ran away from him..." and the mother continued to spill the details you were never given the chance to hear from the man himself.

You suppose this was the cause of your perfectly crafted aura of trust, to lure in your targets and make them spill to their heart's contents as you indulge them. In the end, Childe's mother's true intention was to thank you for all that you had done for her son, and to help him cultivate into the best person he could be among the ranks of the Harbinger. You gulped the last bits of the dumpling, a shy smile placated on your cheek, "It is my honor to take him under my wing."

"Hey, master, I sure hope mum didn't say anything embarrassing about me while I was gone!" A hand holding a tissue softly wiped the cream at the edge of your lips as Childe- Ajax finally made his way over to your table.

"It's okay, really, it's normal for children to pee their bed." You mused as Childe's mother laughed at the way her son choked over his own spit. Ah, you were right.

The rest of the day was filled with ice-skating, something you have forgotten, clumsily held up by the three younger siblings as they expertly excelled in the field. And right after was a session of ice fishing with their father, who was greatly impressed by your strength upon reeling the 50-centimeter long tuna. Flopping on to the ice platform as if to chase the children on land.

"Don't want to stay? There's a spare room here, you can borrow my big sister's clothes for the night. It's a long way back to the Palace," he stood next to you outside the entrance of his home while you face the other direction.

You sighed. "Tartaglia, I'm your mentor. And as the 10th Harbinger, your ascension should be my priority." You didn't see the way his jaw clenched at the intonations of your words. "If it were a different circumstance-"

"Next week," the snow caught on to your lashes as you closed your eyes, basking at the cold that bites at your cheeks. "Will be my last try. And after that, please see me as your equal."

"Alright." Your hands trembled.

x. final spar

Fatuus lined the veranda surrounding the quadrangle in quiet anticipation, skirmishers and agents alike that had yet to be assigned under Harbinger supervision and even those who just had nothing better to do.

Childe had anticipated the spotlight, but it was a greater scale he was not comfortable on. He was lucky a Harbinger had yet to watch the spar, the last spar as he had promised, and it seemed the gossip had spread enough to alert the whole organization. The Delusion mask sat by the side of his hair as he watched you at the other end of the field.

Your eyes held no emotion as they stared through his soul. A different kind of emotion he'd have wanted to see. He thinks to himself at the thought of you once being in the same predicament as him, did you feel the same fear and worry as he did? Did it take you ten tries? Maybe more, maybe less?

Tartaglia said this will be the last spar, and the final chance for both sides to make it a fair fight (to give it their all). But when you suddenly disappeared and materialized above him with your spear ready to strike, he thought, maybe not this time either.

The spear collided with the dirt floor as blades of winds seem to have exploded from it, a series of gasps resounding through the crowd as they stepped away from the edge. Tartaglia softly landed back on his feet after the successful somersault, materializing his water polearm to strike his elemental slash from the distance. But you stood still, unscathed as the wave that was meant to slice you turned into ice before it could come any closer. Fuck, Tartaglia knew his Vision was weak to yours.

You charged at him once again with the boost of your Anemo delusion, your polearms clashing painfully as you both tried to get hits on each other. There was a nick at this cheek to draw the first blood, your dominant hand twirling the spear easily Tartaglia retreats back to avoid the wildly spinning blade.

Soon enough he dons his own mask and the real fight begins. Electric currents ran through the field as an icy fog starts to envelop the floor, superconduct reaction running the parameter of the field as the Fatuus back away further. The next time your blades meet, a crackle of lightning resounded through the whole palace. Smacking his blades upward, your spear quickly sweeps down to swipe at this ankles, forcing him to leap as the fog obscures the reach of your polearm. Mid-air, he was kicked on the chest as your acrobatic arms held you up and over.

Soon enough his hunger for victory begins to manifest, and his biggest advantage comes into play: overwhelming strength.

Tartaglia felt huge triumph when you finally used both of your hands to parry his blows, your feet sometimes sinking into the dirt floor under the pressure of his attack. For the first time in the fight, your facade cracked with a grimace as you held your polearm up against his dual blades. Quickly leaning away, you brought your foot up and pushed at the spear's shaft, enough to force him back as you leaped out of his range. There was sweat trickling at the back of your neck now, feeling the sizzle of the current on the slight moisture. You swiped your spear in a crescent motion as a snow avalanche bombarded Tartaglia's side when he tried to approach, giving you just enough time to breathe as he tries to free himself under the snow.

By the time he's set himself free, you were already running forwards with your hands gripping your spear at your right for a swiping motion. He fashions his dual blades as he too sprinted in the middle to clash, weapons encased with frost and electricity. In a split second, his arms raised to your left, knowing this was your non-dominant side would make it easy to send you flying at the angle of approach. A powerful blow against another was about to shake the whole Palace—

"Columbina!" The vagrant's voice pierced through the crackle of elements, and Tartaglia's eyes widened when he had noticed your foot slip at the distraction. The inertia of his arms unable to stop the course of action; superconduct and electro-charged reactions creating a powerful explosion as the iced fog seem to have imploded from the force.

Childe's moist hands trembled as his vision tries to refocus. There's a ringing in his ears as he tries to grip at his hands, the electricity coursing through his nerves to make it numb. He desperately closed and opened his fists, and when he finally settled his sights straight, the dripping red liquid had splattered all the way to his mask and arms. With hesitation his sights followed the trail of blood and frost splayed across the field barely visible as the mist still covered the floor with a thin veil, his steps halted at the sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes, and he didn't need to look to know what it was.

"GET THE MEDIC NOW, PREPARE THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT!" Pedrelino's voice reverbed through the field as the few agents that finally recovered from the shock went into emergency actions, some running off and some running to the direction of where the blood trail ends.

There was an obvious pool of blood forming under you, as your whole torso was littered with the same redness. Your left ribcage was angled inwards in an anomalous way as the dual blades had logged itself in between the ribs. You were already unconscious as blood dripped from the side of your lips;

how unfortunate, Childe collapsed to his knees in front of you. You didn't get to congratulate him.

xi. eleventh of the fatui harbinger

His mission had been explained to him concisely and accurately alongside Signora's assignment right after he had been acknowledged as officially part of the Fatui. The throne room had itself full of the Harbingers (with a glaring absence of one) as the Tsaritsa empowered him with her will and concise plan, the gravity of the law and order of the universe and its incoming divine war finally weighing on his shoulders. It was, after all, his wish to end the ministrations of being under someone's supervision and finally walk his path of conquering.

A month after the fight had him standing by the piers of the Snezhnayan ocean. Here he will finally depart to Liyue where his true mission lays, as well as the franchise of the Northland Bank he'd have to oversee. The influx of information for both his and the other's works had his head reeling, pleading silently at the hope that you'd be there to reassure and clarify what exactly he needs to do.

But you're not. In fact, Childe hasn't seen you in the whole month after that fight. He was prohibited from approaching your ward as you were still unstable and fragile to risk; no, everyone was not allowed to enter, he assured himself. He had not seen nor heard you throughout the grieving process of a moment he should have been proud to boast.

During that time, Childe had also adamantly avoided Scaramouche.

He heaved a tired sigh as the consequences weighed his resolve once again, were you still unconscious? Are you still in critical condition or are you recovering? If things ended ever so differently, would you be there next to him to wave him off to his first major assignment? "Liyue, huh, that's a pretty nice nation."

Childe produced a strangled noise when he turned to his right, where you stood, watching the ocean horizon. Your hair was slightly disheveled yet framed your face naturally. There were bandages wrapped all over your torso, peeking out from the sleeves of your unusually covered attire, and your left arm settled on a sling meant to lessen the constraints of your side instead of sporting an actual broken limb. When Childe's calculating gaze settled on your face, you had a calm expression.

"Congratulations, you're finally on your way to your first mission."

"Thank you, although I heard it's quite different from what I'm used to. Besides seafood, too many new customs."

You produced a soft gasp as your eyes widened slightly. Childe stood guard, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong. "I'm a failure of a mentor," what. His eyes watched as you turned to face him (as he did) with an amused glint in your eyes paired by a light smirk. "I didn't get to teach you how to use chopsticks."

His face dropped into a deadpan, before you two harmonized into bouts of varying laughter. Your other hand placed itself on your chest to minimize the vibrations of your giggles, not wanting to put pain into yourself. A flash of hurt recognition passed through his eyes.

"Master, I'm so-"

"(Y/N)." You immediately interjected as you gazed at him past your eyelashes. His breath hitches.

"Ah, (Y/N)," you nodded at his experimental taste of your name and urged him to continue. He opens his mouth before closing it again, a silent debate within the depths of his brain, before his lips parted with a different thought. "Teach me when I come back, please?"

Your eyes widen in surprise and amusement, "I'm sure you'd pick it up easily."

You're not wrong, but he's adamant. "Nah, I'm sure I wouldn't, I heard they're really a handful. I'd rather wait for you."

Giggling again, you raised your mobile hand as he did own, exchanging the most genuine smile. "Okay, pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

I wrote this for two hours straight to the point that my left arm doesn't work anymore....

@moaa @kookieyachi @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe x reader #genshin impact Childe #genshin impact oneshots #exile.flower #sojourner special #female reader #Harbinger #brrrrt

295 notes · View notes

thanatophania · 7 years

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Sera, Cass, Lottie? :3c

WOW this got very long.

Full name: Seraphina Lucia Rosenvinge

Gender/orientation: Female, bi. All hail the heartbreaker, she’s been through her share of beaus and likes to change things up.

Pronouns:She/herEthnicity/species: Lalaland European; her family background is primarily Norwegian and they’re a small, pureblooded family of swan witches.Birthplace/birthdate: January 21, somewhere in Svalbard.Guilty pleasures: Going on extravagant shopping sprees. Back when she used to flirt a lot more and be a lot more casual with her affections, it was nice to have people buy gifts for her. She certainly knew how to get things she wanted, one way or the other. Sometimes she gets guilty enough to return the stuff she buys, but most of the time she doesn’t. Hey, it’s not like she just leaves them to gather dust; unlike some people, she actually uses them! It’s not a hoarding problem, what are you talking about.Phobias: A bit of a Rich Person First World Problem in some aspects, but she’s afraid of having … nothing. No assets, no ties/bonds to people, being completely cut off and isolated. That’s kinda why she did that to other people before they could do it to her. :’)What they would be famous for: If she had her way and wasn’t stopped by the likes of Ali or Cass, she might’ve gotten famous for having a lot of spouses that died mysteriously. :| Maybe gained a reputation as a black widow or some shit. Not very flattering …What they would get arrested for: Casual property destruction. Assault and battery. She’s got a rather short fuse and some pretty bloodthirsty tendencies if provoked. She tends to get pretty angry on behalf of other people, and her first solution to their problems is usually to beat the problem until it repents.Ship them with: Sho. It’s somewhat complicated, because it seems she might have to gear up to fight Cass for the rights to Sho’s hand in … er, not marriage, but. Certainly something. Neither of them are particularly pleased about sharing. She saw him first, damn it! That said, she still likes to flirt, and totally used to flirt with Alistair’s illegitimate half-sister. Mostly to piss him off. Which is succeeding, to absolutely nobody’s surprise.Most likely to murder them: The Bureau, anyone who hates Alistair enough to want to kill him – and it’s her job to get in their way, alas. Closer to home, Mei has threatened to kill her if she breaks Sho’s heart. Sera thinks it’s kinda cute, that her boyfriend’s old childhood girl/friend is protective enough over him to threaten grievous bodily harm to whoever messes with his feelings, even if she was the one that broke things off first. It’s cute. Mei’s also cute.Favourite movie/book genre: Romances and chick lit/flicks. Whether it’s ironic or not, nobody knows. She seems especially fond of trashy romance paperbacks, a la Chuck Tingle or Danielle Steel. And hey, Bridget Jones’ Diary and The Notebook are all hilarious, don’t judge.Least favourite movie/book genre: Action. She can get pretty critical about things like historical and biological accuracy, and commentates all through it. Do not bring her for action movies or superhero flicks. Just don’t.Talents/powers: Ruthless Monopoly king. She’s not here to make friends, she’s here to win. She’s also got a pretty good singing voice, and gets pretty competitive during karaoke nights, sometimes breaking out the operatic contralto if she’s had enough to drink. That aside, Sera’s also pretty handy with polearms and thunder magic, and has a better handle on casting offensively than her brother.Why someone might love them: Protective as all hell to whoever she likes enough. Never mind the fact that they might be able to do it themselves. Even if she gives Ali a lot of shit and doesn’t seem to respect him, she can and will kill for him. It goes without question she’ll do the same for Sho. Ride or die, my man. She’s all about that life.How they change: Uh, well, she genuinely cares for Sho and he’s the biggest catalyst to her settling down and being? A better person? Maybe? She also eventually becomes more honest with herself and with other people.Why you love them: She’s a vicious blood knight (and sometimes gold digger) dressed up as a fragile blushing rose maiden. What’s not to love. She’s awful and I love her.

Full name: Cassius Isak RosenvingeGender/orientation: Male, bi. If his previous interests are any indication, his preferences lean towards men.Pronouns: He/himEthnicity/species: Lalaland European; he comes from a family of Norwegian swan witches.Birthplace/birthdate: January 21, somewhere in Svalbard.Guilty pleasures: Cass is the type of person who feels obligated to be doing something 24/7, so just. Unwinding and Not Doing Anything is something he considers to be a guilty pleasure. Napping, sitting in the park watching people pass by, going to the local pool/lake/miscellaneous water body and just floating aimlessly watching the clouds drift past … yeah, that’s the life.Phobias: It’s not all that uncommon a fear, but Cass hates the Naraka more than anything else because he’s had some experience with getting too close to it. He doesn’t like the cold, or still waters – together, they remind him far too much of the Sea of Samsara. One of his worst nightmares usually entails drowning, the open sea, deep waters, burial at sea, and shipwrecks.What they would be famous for: Very few people use blood magic, especially in conjunction with healing, and Cass is one of them. He may or may not have gotten a few lessons in between from a certain blood mage snake witch, long before her fall from grace. Take that how you will. :^)What they would get arrested for: Robbery. Mostly by virtue of wandering off without realising he hasn’t paid for something, only to set off the alarms as he leaves. Or can you also get arrested for being too smug, and being snide to whoever arrests you? Cass would probably always be held in contempt of the court, no matter what the original charges.Ship them with: … Sho. Remember when I said it’s complicated. His first love was Alistair but it was rather one-sided and never really got anywhere, and Cass knows he’d be lying if he said he didn’t still kinda hold a torch for everyone’s favourite resident jerk stag. And … re: Sho, he was supposed to be playing wingman (ha) or something for Sera but look what happened. Oh no. Oh no, he’s cute. Most likely to murder them: Anybody who has beef against Alistair, naturally. The Bureau – and the most likely candidate may well be Ren. Hell, let’s not even go that far and think about the Bureau – he’d let Alistair murder him. Wait, come back, he didn’t say that out loud, did he.Favourite movie/book genre:… he likes documentaries and educational videos. They’re good to have as background noise while he’s doing something else, though he always changes the channel if it’s one of those deep-sea specials. He’s also got a National Geographic subscription, and likes the photography spreads.Least favourite movie/book genre: Crime and horror. He’s seen enough shit to last a lifetime, thanks, and his normal life has quite a few dead person horrormonsters in it; he’s not a fan of his entertainment having them too. Nor does he want to be reminded of the depths of depravity the human condition is capable of sinking to.Talents/powers: He’s a good artist, particularly with inks and watercolours! One of his favourite hobbies as a kid used to be sitting at the lake on his family’s estate, painting the scenery. Good eye for detail and figure/gestures, and a pretty dab hand at landscapes. Also an accomplished blood mage/cleric, though that doesn’t come into play quite as much.Why someone might love them: All things considered, he’s pretty honest and to the point, and can be rather direct – he’s just not very good at being subtle. Also has a pretty wry sense of humour, even if it takes a while to show through.How they change: He gets a haircut. HAHAHA. Okay, I’m joking. Gets over his reservations re: demons and demony bullshit, stops being so gung-ho about the blood magic business, stuff like that.

Why you love them: I’m a fan of characters who look serious and foreboding and are actually pretty chill. I am also a fan of those that look deadly serious but have a weird streak. Hypercompetent in some areas, utter dorks in others. :’)Full name: Tilottama KulkarniGender/orientation: Female, bi.Pronouns: She/herEthnicity/species: Lalaland Indian, from a family of snake witches.Birthplace/birthdate: March 6, in Maharashtra. Guilty pleasures: It’s a well-established fact that she likes people-watching, and sometimes making up stories about their lives when she’s bored or surveilling/staking out a mark. It goes without saying that the wilder and more sordid, the more fun. She’s not against sharing said stories, either, especially if the listening party is also involved in said story. The more horrified their reactions, the more fun!Phobias: Going insane and demoning out. Her family has quite the history of demoning out – almost a 100% rate, which is high even for witches. She tries to rein in the Sway from the Spine and mostly succeeds, but fears it getting to her; it’s a big part of why she ignored Eri’s offers of joining her grand demony agendas. She doesn’t need help in that, thanks.What they would be famous for: Setting a new world record for lowest limbo? Don’t look at her like that, it’s a perfectly valid claim to fame. Maybe in another life, she’d have become famous as a traditional dancer (and she used to try teaching Sav a bit too, but their styles are very different), but this is not that life, alas.What they would get arrested for: Cheerful obstruction of justice. She can be frustratingly obfuscating when she wants to be and knows it. I guess technically everyone here would get arrested for murder at some point or another, because, y’know. That’s just the way things are in Quell’s Wonderful Lalaland.Ship them with: Kinda had a casual thing with Millie when they were trainees, though she currently prefers making up her wild and sordid stories to actually being involved in them. At some point, everyone expected her and HP to be a thing since they were childhood friends but they never really got into that; both of them mutually agreed they weren’t each other’s type, and left it at that – though she did admit taming HP would’ve been a fun challenge, had he not eventually tamed himself. Haha.Most likely to murder them: Again, the Bureau is the most likely candidate – and for extra irony or whatever, it could well be Eri. For Science. You know, kill a witch whose family is known for demoning out, demon out yourself, eat the other. She’s also informed the likes of Ming, Lin and Yong to put her down in a worst case scenario, because she trusts in their abilities to put aside personal feelings and end things.Favourite movie/book genre: Historical fantasy dramas, and over-the-top theatrics with terrible effects. Sometimes they intersect and that’s TWICE THE FUN. Sure, serious historical dramas are great and all, don’t get her wrong (and she can get pretty emotional in them HAHA she’s the type of person to connect to the characters and resonate with the storyline or whatever) but she has a huge soft spot for the ones that take their unironic corniness up to eleven.Least favourite movie/book genre: Anything that should, by premise, be ridiculous as fuck, but takes itself too seriously. C’mon, man, where’s the fun in that? There’s way too much media that takes itself too seriously. You gotta be able to laugha t yourself and relish and revel in your cheesiness sometimes.Talents/powers: Can chug a litre of liquid in under twenty seconds. It made for a neat party trick and still kinda does! Just, y’know. Not that often. And uhh I guess even as an archer and a generally ranged caster she’s very good with melee and hand-to-hand and her favourite approach to solving closer-ranged problems is to punch it right in the face. Even amongst water-root witches she’s a very fast and fluid caster, and can use minimal movement and gesture to great effect.Why someone might love them: She’s chill, she’s fun, she’s a good listener. A good budget therapist, in a pinch! She’s pretty perceptive and good at picking up on subtle cues or subconscious hints even if the other person may not even know about them. Guess there’s a good reason she’s trusted with a lot of negotiation stuff and/or recon.How they change: She’ll eventually accept that demoning out isn’t really in her power and she probably won’t get a lot of say in it, and to stop being so paranoid about it happening. It’s okay, carpe diem and all that, and she learns to embrace that fully, and practise what she preaches.

Why you love them: I like characters that stay idealistic and true to themselves despite the world being crapsack. She’s not quite on the level of Yuna or Nagi, but she’s also not as jaded as some her age are.

#meme #txt #orig #sera #cass #lottie #THIS GOT REALLY LONG-WINDED LMAO.

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