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vivalabunbun · 4 months

Text

An Encore of Betrayal

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

Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)

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

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

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

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

Would you believe that such a place exists?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they lived happily ever after.

----------

Ah, so it was that tale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was his rebuttal to that snarl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence.

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, Consomme Purete.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment

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

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

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

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

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

A deep breath as he formulates his response.

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

“Oh, I see,” you hum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A glimmer he once believed was love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was his torment entertaining to them?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions.

However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs.

“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.”

Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes.

“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire.

“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.”

“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes.

He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing.

“That is what you must find for yourself.”

Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end.

The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead.

“Oh?”

What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.

Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor.

“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you.

Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath.

“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up.

Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.

The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon.

He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly.

“Oh…”

It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight.

This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.

It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his.

Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him?

“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws.

“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?”

Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?

The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions.

You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire.

Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs.

Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation.

“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen.

Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl.

“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over.

“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.

A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel.

This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup?

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness.

Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat.

“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises.

A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space.

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something.

As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders.

Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride.

You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return.

“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation.

The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips.

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something.

After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.

Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup.

In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint.

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

“Is your name Édouard?”

Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.

You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.

Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.

However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?

Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows.

Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics.

Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.

He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name.

Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.

All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.

He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.

“There’s a tear in your coat…”

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear.

“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams.

He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say.

“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer.

It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands.

To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment.

Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host.

“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.”

His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.

As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.

“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands.

Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.

Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him.

“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair.

Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.

However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture.

Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.

His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table.

The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences.

“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth.

Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.

Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.

Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long.

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself.

Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.

Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body.

Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.

If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them.

Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.

Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure.

By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.

Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support.

Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.

The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands.

“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude.

He hums an answer.

“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows.

“Why did you say that?” You finish your question.

Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences.

The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool.

“Do you really wish to know?” He warns.

You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here.

Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat.

“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals.

The needle stops.

“A curse?…” you stammer out.

Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.

The answer was sitting just in front of him.

“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?”

To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.

But such hands could not touch a being such as him.

“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept.

“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber.

Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.

To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.

For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea.

Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse.

“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper.

Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears.

“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.”

Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale.

Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?

A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal.

Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape.

Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.

More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.

Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?

The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal.

A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool.

What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.

A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting.

“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present.

Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer.

“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.”

Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves.

He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.

Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.

“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap.

A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace.

However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice.

Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.

Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.

It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles.

Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame.

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

“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor.

Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.

Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette.

“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.

“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.”

“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…”

There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt.

“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.”

She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face.

“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate.

You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel.

“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns.

A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets.

Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd.

“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress.

“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside.

“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted.

Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.

They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses.

He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.

For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison?

His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now?

“Could you be expecting?”

Huh?

Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.

Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation.

“Will there be a new addition to the village?”

“How long do we have to wait?”

“Are we getting a brother or sister?”

Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat.

“No,” he coughs out.

A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes.

“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement.

A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.

A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine.

“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps.

You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.

A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down.

“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles.

Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness.

Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time.

Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?

Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?

“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks.

Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down.

“Where does a baby come from?”

The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.

If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?

How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?

“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.

“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?”

At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.

The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve.

“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.

“Of course, Sébastien.”

His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts.

“Regrettably, that is not my name.”

“Was it at least a decent attempt?”

He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.

Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed.

His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.

Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.

Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.

No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.

“Do you miss the sea?”

Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.

Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response.

“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.”

After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.

Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight.

Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.

One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.

For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment.

Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips.

His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.

Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.

However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands.

When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle.

It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.

The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish.

A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.

An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…

Neuvillette clears his throat.

“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you.

“Oh?...” The comb stops.

At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone.

A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff.

“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly.

The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’.

Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily.

He needs to leave now. For your sake.

Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face.

Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?

The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn.

The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin.

How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering.

A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory?

Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.

No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.

Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct.

From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly.

But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity.

He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows.

Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought.

The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.

“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.

Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust.

“Neuvillette?”

He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust.

The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart.

Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure.

However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment.

So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets.

A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer.

“Neuvillette?…”

His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion.

He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face.

“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes.

The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut.

“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown.

Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.

“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.

Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.

“...But I missed you…” You whisper.

Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth.

“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this.

“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.

Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body.

“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit.

“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder.

Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes.

Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.

“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours.

Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat.

And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy.

“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it?

Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long.

Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat.

The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.

His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air.

Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.

A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away.

Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?

They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.

Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right?

His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.

Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise.

His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections.

Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?

Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?

There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch.

Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper.

Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin.

Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.

A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.

Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit.

Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.

Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires.

A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.

Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well.

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.

Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?

His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you.

There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.

Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up.

Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.

Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat.

Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds. Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.

The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.

Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.

The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.

They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried.

The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before?

Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows.

“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face.

This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils.

Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?

That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress.

“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him.

Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.

An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets.

Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?

A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.

His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit.

Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.

The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities.

“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort.

Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon.

“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice.

Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.

The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.

The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.

The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.

As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter.

A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.

It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.

Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him.

That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight.

Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life.

One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been.

Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.

Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.

His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.

Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for.

Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.

Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.

A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.

Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up?

“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear.

Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you.

“That’s too bad.”

His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms.

He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.

Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you.

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.

Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him.

Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat.

A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.

Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity.

Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.

As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his.

In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?

Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.

He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.

Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface.

Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.

Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was.

Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.

He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.

A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.

He doesn’t want to see it.

The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues.

But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.

What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much.

It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.

As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin.

Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them.

How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick.

You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.

How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters.

You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition.

If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting.

Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.

The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.

Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?

There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.

Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame.

There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.

Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.

His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips.

The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.

The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head.

Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.

He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all.

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.

The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges.

There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.

No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.

Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls.

You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.

Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body.

An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse.

Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.

An offering made to him.

So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.

Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body.

He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.

Why not renew it?

Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.

Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape.

‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.

Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.

No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well.

It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.

But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper.

Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon burly a hand.

Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.

An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his.

Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.

Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind.

A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.

However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart.

The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession.

For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.

No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles.

He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.

Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown.

Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.

To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged.

Oh, how could he not love you?

The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.

A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile.

The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.

Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was.

The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.

Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls.

Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing.

Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.

Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe.

Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same.

With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.

The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you.

Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality.

He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure.

Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.

Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.

Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes.

Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.

However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy.

However, this wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance.

The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin.

A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers.

A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness.

A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.

Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel.

You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.

Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you.

“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.

Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom.

“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand.

Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism.

“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue.

“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind.

A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him.

“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”

A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water.

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

“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”

“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice.

Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.

Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.

“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support.

With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.

Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.

What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface.

“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone.

However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall.

“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues.

‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears.

“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning.

There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.

But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water.

To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.

However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?

To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.

Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?

Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth?

His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.

No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending.

Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.

The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before.

“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him.

Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace.

As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile.

Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.

Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time?

Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours.

Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors?

A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.

Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon.

“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?

“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away.

Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.

“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.

Why must you keep lying to him?

Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.

Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away.

Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called?

“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him.

A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.

For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale.

“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over.

This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that?

“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle.

Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation.

Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.

The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.

Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in.

He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve.

“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know.

But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity.

He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires.

“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands.

He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his.

“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.

His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish.

Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.

Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.

Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions.

He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses.

The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks.

“Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now.

Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could.

Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches.

Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks.

Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here.

What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil.

“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”

A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?

Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks.

“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.

“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.

Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue.

“How could I hate you?” he confesses.

Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation.

For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time.

Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.

Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours.

“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks.

That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you?

Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long?

“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict.

“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.

He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes.

Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.

Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge.

A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods.

However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition.

If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #vivalabunbunfics #genshin impact x you #genshin smut #neuvillette smut #neuvillette angst #neuvillette fluff #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin x you #neuvillete x reader

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jaylver · 11 months

Text

4 TIMES JAY ALMOST PROPOSED + 1 TIME HE ACTUALLY DID

SYNOPSIS: Failed proposals and a determined mind challenges Park Jong Seong as he manages through tumbling ups and downs in order to successfully propose to the love of his life.

PAIRINGS: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

GENRE: established relationship au, romance, fluff

WARNING(S): profanities, snake (?)

WC: 2671

AUTHOR NOTES: hope y'all will enjoy this one! rushed it a bit so i'm sorry if there's anything lacking! please give some feedbacks, it'll be greatly appreciated <3

It has been almost six years since you and Jay have gotten together.

From being friends to going on casual dates to moving in together, you knew this was it. You were very sure Jay was the man for you. It was a no-brainer that Jay felt the same too. He always knew all along and you didn't need any reaffirming from him either.

Marriage was a topic you and Jay had discussed each year and the opinion seemed to have never changed, you two were fine with the idea of marriage and were open to it. It wasn't the matter of yes or no, it was when it would happen. As years passed, the thought of a serious future together was an unspoken confirmation between you two. It was also a theme frequently asked during family dinners or friend gatherings and you would just wave it off, though secretly wishing and looking forward to it actually happening.

What you didn't know was that Jay happened to be already one step ahead, like how he always was. Now, the problem was struggling to propose and not knowing when to do so. He's got the perfect ring, the best words he picked out to say, the faint idea of where he wanted to propose, but he just didn't know when. Could you believe that?

His three best friends were there to give him a pep talk, helping him plan the proposal and in the meantime, he made sure to go all the way to your parents to ask for their permission, to which they said ‘yes’ to almost immediately, absolutely elated and welcoming Jay to the family before he even officially popped the question, that was how much they loved Jay and no one could blame them for it.

With the help of your’s and Jay’s parents and his best friends, they planned a special private dinner by a restaurant on the beach you loved going to and having the proposal on the sandy beach with lighted candles. It was a simple idea but he knew you wouldn’t mind it from the countless proposal ideas you’ve once shared. Not to mention, it was the place where you and Jay shared your first kiss, making it much more memorable. He had a feeling this would be the perfect spot for a proposal.

Your boyfriend’s nervousness and anxiety were only getting gradually higher as the date got closer. He wondered how it managed to go such under the radar, playing it off as a normal Saturday date night and you were totally oblivious to it, gushing about returning back to the spot where you two shared your first kiss.

The small box which had your engagement ring inside was tucked into a compartment of Jay’s expensive suit, his hand occasionally flying to the spot and patting it to make sure it didn’t magically disappear. He swore he was going insane, and you noticing his jitters wasn’t making him feel better either.

Over dinner, you were there cracking jokes and laughing at the ridiculous puns he made, but all he could was focus on you, the crinkles of your eyes whenever you smiled, your smile, your laugh, the way your hair swept past your shoulders, lord he was whipped and he just needed to put a ring on your finger quick! Fast forwarding to after dinner where his anxiety reached its height and his foot tapped anxiously on the floor, he was waiting for the bill to arrive and it was a challenge to not burst out screaming.

“Here’s your bill, sir—” finally! “—it’s raining outside, would you like an umbrella?”

It’s WHAT?

“R–raining? O–outside, on the beach?” Jay croaked out, there was no way this was happening.

“Yes, sir,” the waiter nodded, slightly confused at Jay’s sudden surprise.

You tilted your head, peering over at your boyfriend with a questioning expression. “Is there something wrong? We could go to the beach another day, honey, we always do anyway,”

“Right,” Jay breathed out, nodding slowly and trying his best to not blow his own cover. “We’d like to borrow the umbrella please.” he said to the waiter, tucking the bill into the compartment inside his jacket, and with one last pat of the box tucked snuggly in another compartment, he let out a sigh and held onto your hand waiting for the umbrella.

Almost.

But almost was never enough.

ii.

Ironic it was that you and Jay happened to be at a wedding.

Upon hearing the failed proposal, everyone was disappointed but still remained resilient, racking their brains to think of a fresh idea. But now, you had wedding duties to attend to and your lovely boyfriend was dragged along. It was your friend’s wedding and you spent the day going around congratulating the pair, drinking here and there and dancing with Jay, basically having the time of your life.

“If weddings are usually this fun, I really want one too,” you sighed to Jay, leaning onto his shoulder.

If only you knew.

He hummed in response, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you two watched the stars of the event have their first dance together. In Jay’s eyes, he was wishing it was you and him instead.

Towards the end of the wedding, the bride announced for a bouquet toss enthusiastically, and all the unmarried women in the room formed a cluster behind the bride as she got onto a short stool. You were among the bunch, joining in for the fun without taking it seriously. That was until the bouquet had shot into the air, flying towards you and your hand reached out in a natural instinct, catching it instantly.

You caught the bouquet. This meant that the catcher was getting married next. Were you? The ladies all cheered and clapped, but your eyes wandered off to Jay, where people around him gave him claps on the back or handshakes, his gaze landed on you as well, a big grin wide on his face. You broke into a smile, waving the bouquet excitedly.

Once the wedding had officially ended and you were walking hand-in-hand to the parking lot, swinging the bouquet in your other hand, your mind filled with some questions. “Do you think this is a sign?”

“What sign, darling?”

“You know how people say when you catch the bouquet you get married next?”

Jay had red alarms blaring in his head. “Really?”

“Yup,”

Jay wished he was able to get on one knee in this random parking lot at that moment, a place where it was empty and quiet, no one to bother you two, though severely unromantic but Jay’s patience was wearing thin. He knew it wouldn’t change anything between you two if he proposed now or later, but he wanted to call you his fiancee already.

“Y/N—”

Will you marry me?

“Hm?”

“I love you,”

You poked his side, raising an eyebrow at him. “Out of the blue?”

“Can’t I express my love for my girlfriend?”

“Of course you can, idiot, I love you too.”

Oh, how he longed for you to not be his girlfriend anymore but instead his fiancee.

iii.

A few weeks rolled by and Jay was feverishly looking for an empty slot at all your favourite restaurants. Thanks to it being Valentine's week, all of them had none. Zero.

Jay wanted to give in and propose to you right there and then, whenever you were in bed or even on the couch, he didn’t care. He knew you didn’t care much about a proposal’s fanciness, just hoping it wasn’t a public one, but he couldn’t help to go all out to make sure you liked it. That was the length Jay would go for you.

It wasn’t a surprise Jay was getting increasingly frustrated that the proposal was dragged later and later. But all he could in front of you was play it off as not getting seats for valentines.

“We don’t need to do anything big for valentines, Jay,” you reassured, rubbing his back softly. Of course you didn’t, he loved your simpleness.

“I know, my love,” Jay smiled at your efforts of calming him, you were the one who knew him best.

The romance movie you had playing in the background was showing a proposal scene, the female lead gasping in shock as the male lead got onto one knee, the typical thing. You laid your head on Jay’s shoulder, snuggling closer to his side with his arms around you, eyes trained on the screen, but your boyfriend’s head was swarmed with more internal screaming at the sight. Luck was needed on his head.

“This is so cute,” you referred to the scene, deep down wishing for the same.

“You think so?” Jay said quietly, rubbing the side of your arms.

“Very much so,”

“What if I proposed …one day,” he quickly added the last part, being as careful as he could.

“What do you think I’ll say to that?” you patted his jaw, seeing a small smile form on his face.

“I hope it’s a ‘yes’,”

“Of course it’ll be one, I’d be such a big idiot if I said otherwise,” you squeezed his cheek, a grin tugged on your lips. “But that’s never happening,”

“Yeah?”

‘Marry me?’ Was what rang through Jay’s mind endlessly and he wished he could run into the bedroom to grab the engagement ring hidden in his bedside table.

“Yeah. Obviously.”

He knew it was forever and always.

iv.

Jay had many stupid ideas in his life and this was one of them. He blamed that one TikTok video.

In that video, the man and his girlfriend went on a hike, his friend on an undercover mission at the top of the cliff filming the reaction. It was cute and the reactions had Jay almost in tears, which gave him the idea of planning a hike, one where a ring was involved.

Out of you two, Jay was the more adventurous and active person, constantly bringing you to hikes and runs, so this wasn’t your first rodeo and it definitely didn’t surprise you at all.

Jay knew he had this in the bag, with you oblivious and his plans turning out well, his stress was decreasing, thank heavens. Just like the video, Jay had Heeseung arriving at the top of the cliff minutes before you two did, hiding behind a bush with a camera already recording.

So, on a Sunday morning, you and Jay hiked up a usual track on the cliff that you were familiar with. There were little to none people, and you got to roam freely, talk and joke loudly as if it was only you and him in the world.

“I’m tired,” you complained, taking your final steps and reaching the top, thankful that you were able to rest and catch your breath for a while before having to head back down.

“The view is great,” Jay pointed towards the sky, and he was right. The clouds were painted in different shades of pink, orange and red, the sun was up and the morning sunlight provided warmth.

“It is,” you turned your back towards him, and that was when Jay realised it was time. He spotted Heeseung and gave him a thumbs up, he got the box from the back pocket, ready to get on one knee but—

“What the fuck?” Jay jumped, literally. His whole body basically jumped and backed away, there was a snake. A snake managed to ruin his proposal this time. First it was the rain, and now a snake? Was nature ever going to leave him alone?

“What?” you were obviously startled, rushing to your boyfriend’s side and huddled behind him.

“There was a snake,” his voice wavered, though it was now gone, there was no way he could just propose like everything was normal. The rush was gone and his confidence was poof, gone.

“What?” you shrieked, tugging onto Jay’s sleeve. “I think we should leave,”

“Yeah,” Jay, evidently shaken, could only nod and keep the ring back into his pocket. He made sure that Heeseung got the memo and left, a heart broken and an ego continually punched.

Another time’s the charm!

+i.

Despite the many unforgettable failed attempts of a proposal, Jay never backed down. This was going to be the last time, and it was going to be a successful one.

As per Jay’s promise to bring you back to the beach, you were now having a candlelit picnic by the shore under the night sky, some slow music playing distantly in the background. Everything reminded you of that night during the start of your relationship, and you found yourself reminiscing, amazed at how far you two had come.

“I can’t believe we’re here tonight,”

“Really?” Jay asked, you two had been here countlessly, the sudden sentiment had taken him off guard.

“This was where it all began, wasn’t it?” you gazed at him, love and affection in your eyes. “This place is special, I don’t know how to describe it,”

“I get it,” Jay assured, laughing a little.

“You always do,” you smiled, reaching over to squeeze his hand lightly. “Wanna dance?”

Jay couldn’t resist and nodded, slyly taking the box from under the picnic blanket and slipping it into his pants pocket. You were too busy switching the music to notice, and once you had your favourite song playing, you rushed towards your boyfriend, practically crashing into his arms.

“Hello, pretty lady,” he said softly, his arm around your waist and your hand on his shoulder, rocking side to side. “‘Can’t take my eyes off of you’ huh?”

“It’s one of our songs, I can’t help it,” you laid your head on his shoulder, biting back a chuckle.

This was peace. In the middle of a quiet beach, it was just you and him, bare and transparent, listening to him humming to the song, the cool night air engulfing you and him both. There was nothing you wished for more than this.

“You’re just too good to be true…” Jay sang along, and you removed your head from his shoulder, giggling as you locked eyes with him. “Can’t take my eyes off of … you,”

It happened too quickly. Jay had gotten onto one knee, his hand never left your hold. “Ever since I’ve met you, it really didn’t take me long to realise that you are the one for me,” one hand reached for the box in his pocket. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to stand by you no matter what,” he opened the box, the ring shone bright in the night and you gasped.

“Will you marry me, Y/N?”

Jay couldn’t believe he was uttering those words. You were in disbelief this was happening.

“Yes! Of fucking course, yes, yes, yes!” you caught his face with both hands, pressing a long kiss on his lips, feeling him smiling against yours. The moment you pulled away, he slipped the ring onto your finger and you were starting to tear up.

You were marrying your forever best friend. The love of your life.

“I love you,” you pressed another kiss on the corner of his lips, pulling him close.

“I love you more,” he kissed you on the lips in return, knowing you would rebut and say you loved him more instead. “You have no idea how happy I am,” he wiped the tears away from your cheeks.

“I’m the happiest woman too, I’m so lucky to have you,”

“Obviously,” Jay joked, and you scoffed, punching him softly. “Joking. I’m a lucky man too,”

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You’re going to have to put up with me for life now, my love.”

Safe to say the wrongs finally turned right for Jay in the end. Married life was going to be new, but before that, wedding planning was about to take him out first.

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comfortember · 7 months

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It's that time of the year again...COMFORTEMBER 2023

Hello and welcome to our fourth year of Comfortember!!! 🍂

First and foremost, I want to give a huge thank you to @highly--distractible for hosting this last year, thank you so so much, I appreciate it more than you know. The break was much needed 💜💜💜

Thank you for your patience on this, I know it's a little late. Here are the prompts for 2023:

For anyone who is seeing this for the first time (first of all, welcome!), Comfortember takes place for the month of November and each day has a comfort-themed prompt for any art medium like writing or fan art. Comfort can mean anything you want it to, from a fun slice-of-life story to the aftermath of an action-packed scene, anything that warms your heart while sipping hot cocoa.

The alternate prompts are there as replacements for if you don't want to do a particular prompt but still want to complete a prompt for the day.

This challenge is open to anyone in any fandom, and the link to this year's collection on AO3 is here!

Please send asks for any questions, I will be online more so you'll get your answers more quickly (well, relatively speaking, I can't answer while I'm at work 😅). Here is a link to the FAQ for reference.

The link to the Comfortember Discord server is here, and please use the #comfortember tag when you post on Tumblr so all posts can be found under a single tag.

I hope you all enjoy these prompts and don't feel pressured about a deadline!! The most important part is having fun, you can complete this when it is best for you 💜 Thank you for participating!!!

*The prompts are written out for easy readability and access under the cut.*

Safe

Sweater Weather

Leaves Changing

Warmth

Treehouse

Notes

Sick/Illness

Grief/Mourning

Aftermath

Sadness

Comfort Show/Movie

Dreams

Baking

Late Night Phone Calls

Plushies

Coffee/Tea Break

Heirloom

Cuddles

Loved Ones

Shopping

Relapse

Cry

Anxiety

Blankets

Rain

Friends

Soup

Flashbacks

Sleepover

The New Normal

Alternative Prompts:

Books

Baths

Travel

Candles

Colors

#comfortember #comfortember 2023

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dlstmxkakwldrlarchive · 4 months

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Partly for the prolific volume of projects artists release each year and partly for the fluid definition of an album (running anywhere from three to 13 tracks), an annual ranking of K-pop albums is never easy. As South Korea continues to extend its global musical influence, certain projects transcend hit-song compilations, presenting larger visions and conceptual narratives.

In 2023, stars like V, WOODZ and ONEW used their latest solo projects to share the music that inspires them at their core as artists and let listeners settle into sonic worlds they’ve developed.

[...]

First Place: Onew, Circle The First Album

While it’s somewhat criminal to think that 15 years after ONEW’s debut with SHINee in 2008 we only just received his first full Korean album, the singer-songwriter himself would say that now was the perfect time for Circle. A musical journey unlike anything released this year, ONEW shared that he had attempted to record the album’s title track before dropping his Dice EP in early 2022, but felt it wasn’t at the level of perfection it deserved and held onto the song. ONEW then involved himself in every aspect of Circle‘s production process, from meticulous mixing and mastering to tuning, beats, recording and mastering, attesting to the singer-songwriter’s dedication to artistic expression.

The single “O (Circle)” opens the album with an intriguing blend of electronica and strings, while its gospel-tinged chorus emphasizes lyrics about the circular nature of life and how memories, feelings and dreams are all fleeting. The 10 tracks on Circle develop unique transformations from start to finish: the breezy melodies in “Cough” are paired with loneliness-themed lyrics and a melancholy instrumental breakdown, while “Rain on Me” starts with aggressive acoustic guitar strumming before transitioning into an atmospheric, percussive ballad. Sweet surprises abound, too: ONEW scats on the jazz-rap hybrid “Caramel” and gives a glimpse into his indie-rock side on “Parachute.”

The album’s effortless flow is anchored by ONEW’s famously solid yet understated vocals. As Circle concludes with the tender piano ballad “Always” which addresses themes of loyalty and resilience, the listener wonders if it’s an allegory for ONEW’s public journey through health challenges, including vocal cord surgery. Even without any writing credits on Circle, ONEW’s presence is undeniably felt in this seamless collection that boasts an emotional depth brought on by 15 years in the game. That’s the kind of introspection you can’t rush or doctor through A&R but need to cycle through and arrive at when the moment is right. From scheduling this album’s release to the messages on the final track, time is definitely on ONEW’s side to deliver such a project. — J.B.

source

#231230 #shinee #onew #lee jinki #jinki #hard era #circle album praise #articles #eng #circle album review #billboard #long post #jeff benjamin #jessica oak #circle achievements

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copepods · 8 days

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so, there's no official place im aware of that's compiled the names of every music track in rain world which includes DLC, unused tracks, alpha tracks, and includes every location those tracks can be found, so! i made one :) mostly just for my own fun bc i love cataloguing things.

sadly i cant include links bc there's a limit on tumblr, but these should all be pretty easy to find with a quick google search!

black text = from vanilla game

purple text = unique to downpour

orange text= unused vanilla content, but added in-game in downpour

blue text= is used in vanilla game, but was added to more rooms/locations in downpour

Trailer and promotional music

RW dayns: promotional material (Remix of Sundown)

Threat - Superstructure (Trailer Remix): Switch trailer

What Fate A Slugcat: Release trailer (Alt version of Urban Jungle)

Together: Co-op trailer

Overskog: Downpour launch trailer, creatures teaser

Downpour: Downpour teaser trailer

Triptrap: Downpour regions teaser

Landmarks: Downpour lizards teaser

Task: Challenge mode teaser

Unused

Threat - Outskirts: with unused layer SU_4

Frost Reaper (RW_98): Unused

Threat - Rubicon (TH_HR): Unused

Alpha tracks

RW_2: Alpha_8

RW_3: Alpha_8

RW_4: Alpha_8, Alpha Trailer Music

RW_5: Alpha_8

RW_6: Alpha_8

RW_11: Alpha_8

Alphas, Gems and Junk

RW_12: Alphas, Gems and Junk

Illegible Neon Signs (RW_17): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Beat (RW_21): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Beat (RW_22): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Beat (RW_23): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Sky Islands (RW_24): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Night City (RW_25): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Free Mind Loop (RW_30): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Sub Sub Sub (RW_31): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Arena-exclusive

Noisy (RW_10): Arena

Action Scene (RW_13): Arena

Weyuon (RW_33): Arena

Slaughter (RW_34): Arena

Wired (RW_68): Arena

Menu and cutscene

Sundown (Theme I) (RW_8): Main menu and credits (Technically combination of Sundown (No Rain) and TitleRollRain)

Pictures of the past (RW_Intro_Theme): Surv/monk intro cutscene, UW_J01 (Inv only), OE_CAVE02

Passages: passage screen, UW_A14 (Inv only)

Reclaiming Entropy (RW_92): Saint end cutscene and credits (Was formerly named Theme V - Credits pre-Downpour)

Outro Theme (RW_Outro_Theme_B): Survivor, Monk, and Gourmand end cutscenes

Satellite (RW_72): SI_A07 (Spearmaster end cutscene)

BM_SS_DOOR: Saint intro cutscene

Train Tunnels (RW_27): Expedition menu, Metropolis night theme

Dream_DreamMelody: Dream cutscenes

Halcyon Memories (NA_19): CL_AI, RM_AI (Music pearl), Rivulet end cutscene and credit (Spelled Halcon Memories in OST album)

Game Music

Threat - Outskirts (TH_SU)

Unseen Lands (NA_40): SU_A53

Urban Jungle (RW_1): SU_107

Proxima (NA_01): SU_A07

Frosted Festival (RW_80): SU_A53 (Saint only)

Mud Pits (RW_09): DS_B02

The Wet Moist (RW_38): DS_B04

Old Growth (RW_15): DS_B01

Swaying Fronds (RW_51): DS_A26, UG_A26

Threat - Heavy Industrial (TH_HI)

BM_HI_GATE: HI_B04

Bio-Engineering (RW_43): HI_B04, HI_A07

Mist Engine (RW_50): HI_A18

Sheer Ice Torrent (RW_91): HI_A07 (Saint only), HI_B04 (Saint only)

Threat - Garbage Wastes (TH_GW)

Garbage Worms (RW_52): GW_B01

Lack of Comfort (RW_39): (GW_D02) (GW_B09)

Garbage City Shuffle (RW_37): GW_C02, GW_C04

Albino (RW_43): GW_E01

Stone Heads (RW_19): GW_C03

Overcast (RW_79): GW_A25

Accidented Condition (RW_83): GW_E01 (Saint only)

Eyes of Iron (RW_90): GW_C03 (Saint only)

Threat - Shoreline (TH_SL)

BM_SL_SHORE: SL_B02, SL_D05, SL_F01, LM_D05, LM_F01

Lonesound (RW_46): SL_D06

New Terra (NA_21): SL_A06, LM_A06

The Captain (RW_18): SL_A05

Moondown (Theme II) (NA_11): SL_AI, SL_WALL06 (also called Digital Sundown)

Vast Unlife (RW_89): SL_D05 (Saint only), SL_F01 (Saint only), SL_TUNNELA (Saint only)

New Else VII (NA_42): SL_WALL06 (ECHO) (Saint only)

Black Moonlight (RW_26): SH_D01

Demonic Riser (NA_25): SH_B17, CL_B17

Dripping Time (NA_17): SH_A05

Lantern Mice (RW_58): SH_C10, SH_A21

Floes (RW_40): SH_E05

ELSE III (NA_34): SH_A08 (ECHO)

Dark Sus (NA_08): SH_B05, SH_A24, CL_A24

BM_SH_CRYPTS: SH_B12 (Vanilla, patched out), SB_D04

White Lizard (RW_55): UW_D02

Underhang (BM_UW_UNDERHANG): UW_C03, DM_LEG07, DM_U09

BM_UW_WALL: UW_D07

ELSE IV (NA_35): UW_A14 (ECHO), MS_COMMS (ECHO) (Saint only), CL_D05 (ECHO)

Stargazer (NA_28): UW_H01

Threat - Superstructure (TH_SS) (also plays in The Rot)

BM_DS_GATE (Drainage Duct): SS_B01, RM_B01

Interest Pad (NA_09): SS_A09, RM_A09

Drastic FM (NA_16): SS_F03

Energy Circuit (NA_26): SS_D03, RM_D03

Random Gods (Theme III) (NA_41): SS_E07, SS_L01, SS_E06

Threat - Chimney Canopy (TH_CC)

Threat - Chimney Canopy (The Gutter)

BM_CC_CANOPY: CC_A02, CC_H01 (Saint only), Artificer end cutscene

Wind Chimes (RW_48): CC_B06

Sky Sprite (RW_55): CC_C11

ELSE I (NA_32): CC_C12 (ECHO), SB_A14

Cracked Earth (NA_39): CC_OUTPUT

Threat - Sky Islands (TH_SI)

Lovely Arps (RW_29): SI_D03

Kayava (RW_42): SI_D01

Speaking Systems (NA_23): SI_C06

Crystalline (NA_20): SI_B11, SI_D05

ELSE VII (NA_38): SI_B11 (ECHO), SB_D01

Silicon (NA_04): SI_B12, DM_VISTA

BM_SI_STRUT: SI_B13, SI_F01

Chillblain Grace (RW_84): SI_C02 (Saint only)

Threat - Farm Arrays (TH_LF)

All Thats Left (RW_14): LF_A14

ELSE V (NA_36): LF_B01 (ECHO)

Distance (NA_30): LF_D01, SU_PUMP03

Nest in Metal (RW_49): LF_A01

Maze of Soil (RW_47): LF_D08

Raindeer Ride (RW_54): LF_H01

Emotion Thread (NA_24): LF_J01

Ferrous Forest (RW_28): SB_G02, SB_G03

Leviathan Cave (RW_53): SB_J02

Grumblebum (RW_41): SB_A03, SB_H02

Deep Energy (RW_45): SB_F03

ELSE II (NA_33): SB_A10 (ECHO), HR_C01

Silent Construct (NA_27): SB_D04, SB_F02, SB_I01, DM_CROSSOVER02, SB_B04

Gold Swim (VS_A_GOLD_SWIM): Upper void sea

Big Open (VS_B_BIG_OPEN): Central void sea

Worm Inferno (VS_C_WORM_INFERNO): Central void sea

The Ride (VS_D_THE_RIDE): Void sea

Deep Light (Theme IV): Bottom void sea, ascension end cutscene (Technically combination of Deep Ghosts/VS_E_DEEP_GHOSTS, The Core/VS_F_THE_CORE and Outro Theme/RW_Outro_Theme)

BM_SB_FILTER: SB_J03

BM_SB_SUBWAY: SB_C10, SB_F01, SB_H0

Orange Lizard (RW_62): SB_TESTB, SB_TESTC

Rooftops (RW_7): VS_A01, Arena

Rain (RW_61): VS_B02, VS_B10, VS_C13

Veiled Northstar (RW_93): LM_TUNNELA, VS_A09, SL_TUNNELA

Fragments (RW_96): VS_F01

Threat - Pipe Yard (TH_VS)

GREY CLOUD (RW_32): LC_GIRDERWALK, Arena

ELSE VI (NA_37): LC_highestpoint (ECHO)

Dustcloud (NA_02): LC_TEMPLEENTRANCE

Phasing (NA_06): LC_C08

Lost City (RW_59): LC_ENTRANCEZONE

Threat - Metropolis (Day) (TH_LC)

Threat - Metropolis (Night)

Sparkles (NA_05): OE_RAIL01, OE_TOWER09

Reminiscence (NA_11): OE_TREETOP

Bloom (RW_60): OE_JUNGLE05

Wandering Cut (RW_63): OE_RAIL02

Daze (RW_64): OE_RUIN14

Ancient (RW_69): OE_RUIN02

Open Skies (RW_97): OE_RUINBACKHALL

Threat - Outer Expanse (TH_OE)

Threat - Outer Expanse (Night)

The Coast (RW_16): LM_D06 (also called Shoreline)

BM_UW_UPPERWALL: LM_WALL01, LM_WALL02

Metal Canopy (RW_66): LM_TOWER09

Trusted Component (RW_82): LM_BRIDGE02, LM_BRIDGE03

Threat - Waterfront Facility (TH_LM)

Wormpad (NA_03): RM_GSB1

Qanda (NA_07): RM_D02

Sparkling Pendulum (RW_71): RM_B04

Flicker (RW_73): RM_I03

Not Your Rain (RW_76): RM_ROT01

Glass Arcs (NA_18): DM_I02, DM_I05

Flutter (NA_29): DM_WALL06

Scapeless Doubt (RW_70): DM_LEG01

Obverse of the Old Wind (RW_78): DM_ROOF01

Reflection of the Moon (RW_95): DM_ROOF04, DM_MOONCHAMBER

Threat - Looks to the Moon (TH_DM)

Past Echoes (NA_06): UG_C02 (ECHO)

They Say (NA_22): UG_B02, UG_B10

Breathing Hyometer (RW_81): UG_GUTTER01, DS_GUTTER01

Weathered Steps (RW_94): UG_A05

Garden (RW_65): MS_BITTERENTRANCE, MS_SPLITSEWERS

Random Fate (RW_67): MS_LAB14, DM_I11

Aquaphobia (RW_74): MS_I06

Onto A New Dawn (RW_75): MS_FARSIDE

Fragile (RW_77): MS_BITTERAERIE2

Ascent (RW_85): MS_ENTRANCE

Flux (RW_88): MS_I02, MS_I03

Fading Light (RW_87): CL_D01

Pulse (NA_31): Saint ending

The Cycle (RW_86): HR_M01, HR_M02, HR_M03, HR_M04, HR_FINAL

#text #rain world #the wiki only includes vanilla tracks atm #and theres a reddit post which has the locations of vanilla + downpour tracks but is missing unused tracks + cutscene music #so i figured id just make this myself #if im missing anything or made any mistakes lmk!

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explodo-smash · 2 months

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Katsuki as the Light & Izuku as the Dark- Love and Harmonious Totality in The New Era

This meta analysis’ purpose is to make the case for KT/DK existing as Light and Dark in each other’s stories respectively, and explain how this dichotomy challenges black & white thinking in the narrative.

This meta analysis will also explore how this Light/Dark dichotomy lays the groundwork for why Katsuki/Izuku as a unit represent a “New Era" in the story.

[Can also be found on twitter]

Whether by Save to Win/Win to Save, or the fact they are osananajimi, the story frequently draws our attention back to Katsuki and Izuku’s complicated, influential and powerful bond. Despite all the changes they’ve gone through in MHA up until now, both individually and together, one thing has always remained constant: they are as symbolically connected as they are physically/mentally/emotionally.

We argue that one of the ways MHA’s narrative connects them symbolically as polar, balanced parts of a larger whole is through a sense of DUALITY.

Furthermore, we argue that the use of contrasting Light/Dark motifs act as both visual and text metaphor to create this duality, with Katsuki representing Light and Izuku representing Dark.

It's important to note that by Light/Dark, we aren’t referring to their moral clarity, goodness or badness. Rather, we will explore Light/Dark as a metaphor that builds on themes in MHA while creating tension (contrast, conflict leading, fear and rejection) and harmony (balance, unity, love and acceptance).

Note: the Light and Dark comparisons/metaphors between Katsuki and Izuku used in MHA sometimes get lost in translation in the anime. Here are some examples….

For Izuku:

Izuku is often encased in shadows in Katsuki’s POV since the beginning.

The word used for quirk (kosei) meaning “personality”, with quirkless meaning “lack of personality”, evoking the absence of something

Character design leaning on “dark” shades (dark/filled in hair, eyes including dark pupils early in the series)

Izuku’s “Dark Hero” arc as it’s officially titled.

Izuku’s prototype/beta name “Yamikumo” meaning Dark Cloud and his personality type tending toward facades/anxiousness

Blackwhip being the OFA quirk that resonates with Izuku’s emotions (particularly his rage)

His recent “power up” moment in the current arc involving blackwhip is denoted by claws, fangs and black tendrils. This form is officially called “overlay” but Hori also calls it “carnage” in his head.

And for Katsuki:

Izuku’s description of Katsuki as someone bright and blinding, often bringing light into his eyes as an artistic consistency.

His quirk “explosion” emitting light, his move “stun grenade” literally a blinding flash of light.

Character design leaning on “light” shades (light hair, eyes aren’t filled in)

Prototype/beta ‘Gogo’ Katsuki’s light clothing and his personality type overall being bubbly and overprotective (toward Yamikumo).

Katsuki’s death chapter titled “Light Fades to Rain”, and his revival evoking that visual of a bright light.

His recent “power up” moment in the current arc is denoted by flashing lights and explosions all around his body - highlighted with laughter, and glee.

Katsuki and Izuku connect with all the various opposites attract concepts that draw on the Light/Dark duality (sun/moon, yang/yin) but the first mistake people make is approaching these concepts with black & white thinking in mind.

The meaning

The Light/Dark imagery/descriptions/metaphors with KT/DK exist as a set piece that subverts expectations by challenging binary/black & white interpretations.

Katsuki’s ‘light’ is confident and inspiring - but it can also be blinding, harsh, and overwhelming.

Izuku’s ‘darkness’ is almost like a blanket. It’s comforting and sympathetic - but it can also be scary, unnerving, and mysterious.

Initially, Katsuki wanted to get away from the ‘darkness’. Izuku was like his shadow, following him relentlessly. He misinterpreted Izuku’s behavior as secrecy or deceit.

Izuku dragged in as much ‘light’ as he could, by both observing Katsuki closely as well as refusing to part with the nickname ‘Kacchan’. His pursuit was a combination of hope for the future and a fascination for something he didn’t have (envy).

Both of them have a capacity for unending love and selflessness, but also uncontrolled rage and violence.

The point of this contrast is for us as readers to highlight and dismantle the surface level perceptions of these characters in the same way Katsuki and Izuku progressively do for each other.

Building on the themes

In the same way Izuku always saw, and admired, Katsuki’s “light”, Katsuki could see, and feared, Izuku’s “darkness”. This contributed in building tension between the two, both literally and narratively. Where another story may have framed them as opposing forces, however, MHA frames them as dual forces. Where the source of tension for opposing forces may be fundamental differences, the tension between Katsuki and Izuku comes from a REJECTION of their fundamental parts. By extension, this became a rejection of their potential for harmony.

There’s enough evidence to suggest the defining concepts for prototype/beta Katsuki and Izuku(Yamikumo) weren’t entirely discarded, but rather modified and layered upon. One of the major differences was how prototype KT/DK got along, with one of the earliest scenes drafted for MHA being a scene where they fight together.

It’s ultimately a mistake to presume Izuku is purely a positive ray of sunshine just like it was a mistake to assume Katsuki was hiding a bitter and villainous darkness within him. It’s the neglect of their core that causes them to dig their heels in and become their worst selves:

Katsuki as egotistical, harsh and tightly guarded with a tendency to lash out, against Izuku as obsessive, obstinate and habitually repressing his emotions.

Society shaped their “quirks” (their power, outward appearance) but time and relationships informed their “individuality” (their ideals, hopes, inner drives).

Izuku's unwavering belief in Katsuki’s light was a tether that enabled Katsuki to embrace and flourish into it. Katsuki grew to understand the darkness in Izuku by confronting that which scared him. This allowed him to empathize with Izuku’s complex thoughts/feelings during a time where Izuku was at his worst (“Dark Hero” arc–onward) and dedicate himself to making sure Izuku didn’t carry the weight of the world and its burdens on his own.

In other words, the inevitable payoff for KT/DK facing and dismantling the tension within themselves and between each other is the harmonizing of the dual/complementary themes they’ve been written to represent, which ultimately mirrors the main messages and questions posed by MHA.

‘The New Era’

As two major pillars of the story, Katsuki and Izuku are in many ways microcosm(s) of MHA society at large.

Katsuki and Izuku as complementary forces and not opposing ones seems obvious until it is put into practice. Some characters in the story and many readers in the audience alike have struggled with understanding their multifaceted nature and reconciling what they know of KT/DK from the outside with the seemingly contradictory information KT/DK have given us about themselves over time. Rather than a fluke, this contrast is an intentional writing choice evidenced by elements like their Light/Dark symbolism.

The lines at the main center of conflict in MHA - Heroes vs. Villains - has been long since blurred. In much the same way Heroes vs. Villains has complicated good vs. evil and challenges black&white thinking, KT/DK’s relationship as counterparts is representative of a greater duality that paints a clearer picture of MHA’s philosophies on the nature of heroism, societal progress, and the difficult process of inner growth. This picture is coming to a head with the story situating them as the beginning of “A New Era.”

MHA understands people as collections of thoughts, feelings, experiences, abilities, ideals, hopes, drives, etc., and that contradictions and tension between them are inevitable.Through KT/DK, MHA has developed a beautiful narrative where strengthening oneself involves strengthening each other and broadening our understanding of who we are.

“There is a false saying: “How can someone who can’t save himself save others?” Supposing I have the key to your chains, why should your lock and my lock be the same?”

#bakudeku #my hero academia #bkdk #mha #boku no hero academia #twins stars #meta #mod shouto #mod deku

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onsunnyside · 1 year

Text

💤. 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Stalker!Ari Levinson x reader (College AU)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK THEMES AND ELEMENTS, SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON, DARK!Ari Levinson, stalking, implied drugging. College IT!Ari, camboy!Ari, outcast!Ari, size difference: 6’8!Ari. non-consensual filming & posting, perving, somnophilia, dirty talk, daddy kink, dry humping, size kink, masturbation (f & m), slight cumplay.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Beware the quiet ones.

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝗪/𝗖 | 1.3K

𝗔/𝗡 | this is my entry for @boxofbonesfic Friday the 13th Challenge, and I picked stalker. Here’s the Pinterest board. this is my first time participating in a challenge, so i'm a little nervous, but here we go !! this is a dark fic, the warnings have been given—if you don’t like it, don’t read. all mistakes are my own. [all asks & drabbles]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“I’ll call you when it’s fixed or if anything c-comes up…”

You nod, quickly gathering your things. His throat tightens, fingers itching for yours. “I-I could walk you home, I don’t have any more appointments today.”

“It’s fine. I live on campus.”

“But it’s getting dark—”

“I’m okay.” You repeat firmly, softening the blow with a smile, “but thank you, Ari, I appreciate it.”

You don’t give him another chance to protest and leave. When you step out, the smell of rain engulfs you, cool air washing away any traces of him, but your goosebumps never leave.

Whatever. At least it’s done.

You flip up your hood and start the short trek home, forcing yourself not to glance back—even though you just know he’s watching from the window.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and since your coursework list was neverending, you had no choice but to book an appointment with the IT department. One click, one stupid click on a link was all it took for your laptop to go haywire and then completely unresponsive.

You couldn’t afford to miss another deadline, even if that meant sitting face-to-face with the campus outcast.

Nothing was wrong with being alone or preferring solitude, but Ari had a strange energy around him. It was suffocating and unsettling, either too quiet, too friendly, or too close.

There weren’t many places for him to hide with his towering height and broad stature, yet he blended in almost too naturally, adapting to the surrounding space as if he belonged there—when that was far from the truth. He didn’t belong anywhere, regardless of how hard he tried to pretend so.

The only tell was the feeling of being watched.

His blue eyes set in steely glare, dissecting you like one of those dead specimens on the aluminum tray.

You had a lab with him one year, and you remember the shivers crawling up your spine when he smiled and made his way over. You thank the universe every day that Natasha slid into the free chair and asked very loudly if you’d be her partner.

“He’s a fucking weirdo.” Natasha grumbled in disgust, glaring at his retreating back, “I don’t have to know him to know he’s into freaky shit.”

Rumours were always just gossip, ill judgment spreading around like wildfire but at this point, you’d believe anything about him, anything to fill that empty void of unease.

Was there any proof that he was into fucked up shit? Or that he was a dark web lurker or a disgusting pervert? No, but your gut told you to flee whenever he was around and that was enough.

Ari was a proud introvert, an odd balance between shy and awkwardly friendly. A small part of you pities him—the different, nerdy reject shrouded in alleged disturbed mystery. You’d never admit it but he was devilishly handsome and in an alternative dimension, he’d be exactly your type.

In any other classes you shared, you purposefully arrived late so he couldn’t sit next to you and so far, it’s kept him at bay. You felt weird around him but so did everyone else.

If there were something truly wrong with him, all of those lingering suspicions would’ve exposed him by now, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

It was easy to blame everything on stress, the pressure of school and your impending future weighing heavy on your shoulders. Like most lonely nights, you dive into the virtual passions of the Internet.

With earbuds in, you scroll through the profiles, your gaze lingering on the lewd photos and biographies. One catches your attention, a little red ‘Top Hot 20’ pinned by the username and a teasing picture of flexed abs and a dark happy trail. You read over his most recent videos:

Jerking off and cumming in library (almost caught) – public masturbation

Eating sleeping girlfriend’s wet pussy – puffy clit, spitting, pussy slapping

You tap on the last one:

Dry humping girlfriend while she sleeps – dirty talk, cum shot

Clean runners softly pad on the carpet floor, the blanket is pulled back and exposes the girl’s backside. The dim flash barely illuminates her body, just an outline of her figure bathed in the moonlight. His big hand caresses her thighs, wasting no time in rubbing over her core.

Almost in a trance, you replicate his motions, tracing over your clothed slit as a quiet breath flutters from your lips, drowned out by his heavy groan.

“Look at you, all ready for daddy…” He rasps, his words slurred, “You knew what I needed tonight, huh?” He touches her petals, spreading the panty-clad folds, “Such a cute little pussy, Want me to fuck you?”

She sleepily rocks against his hand and he laughs, silencing her murmurs with a hand on her back. He manhandles her as he pleases, tossing pillows and blankets to the floor before straddling the back of her thighs.

You exhale and dip your fingers beneath the band of your underwear, seeking that needy bundle. Tingles fill your tummy while you circle your hole, gathering your juices up to your clit.

His fist squeezes his base and slides up to the angry red tip, smearing the pearly dribbles with his thumb. He’s thick and long, veins protruding from the smooth girth before disappearing under his bushy pubic hair. He grinds against her ass, his pre cum leaking all over her panties.

“You’re so fucking wet, I can smell you.”

With heavy groans, he rocks against her and the camera shakes. Primal thrusts slide his solid cock between her cheeks, staining the poor cotton. His big hand lands a series of harsh spanks, they’re so hard you feel the burning sensation too.

You fuck yourself with your fingers in time with his grinds and whine, imagining his fat length rubbing against you just like that.

“One of these days I’m gonna rub my sack all over your cunt. Get you all messy.” A forceful thrust sends the girl sliding a few inches up the bed. “Awh, you dropped your stuffie, little dummy.” He reaches out of the frame and returns with a stuffed animal.

It takes you less than a second to recognize the black and white spots. To your horror, he places the stuffie on a pillow and pets the head right between the small horns.

“There we go, gotta make sure Milky is watching. You gonna be quiet for me now, baby?” He laughs, “oh, why am I even asking? It’s not like you can wake up anyway.”

Your heart plummets to the ground, shattering every layer of the Earth until falling into the endless oblivion of space.

“Can’t wait to fuck your ass, maybe I’ll do it while you’re sleeping, just like how I ate your cute cunt.” He spits, roughly groping her—your flesh, “bet you woke up all sore. Was wondering why you were so sensitive, like someone tortured your pussy.” He curses lowly and his hips stutter, “sorry for bein’ so mean. You make me into a fucking animal.”

All air is yanked from your body when his cum spurts out, covering your panties and lower back. He groans shamelessly, jerking off with his own seed to expel every last drop before pulling down the back of your stained panties. He rubs it into your skin like a sick claim of ownership.

“I love you so much, baby. You have no fuckin’ clue.”

Despite the lightheadedness, you scroll to the comments. Every blink momentarily focuses your blurry vision on the bright screen:

Cute stuffed animal lol

should’ve taken her panties off. I wanted to see that pretty pussy

damn, she’s knocked out cold. How does she sound when she’s awake?

MrSinister: absolutely divine. She’ll be awake in my next video, I promise.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: my oh my 🫡 i feel very dirty, like i need to physically scrub my brain from this whore behaviour. happy Saturday besties.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! be sure to check out the other fics for bones' challenge !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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natural-idiot3 · 4 months

Text

Tsaritsa

⚠️Warning! contains: yandere themes, angst, gore!, not much sense! Read at your own risk ⚠️

I got this idea from character ai. A weak goddess au was made by @Altxir in character ai. And I got this idea that has been haunting me all night.

————————-

“Cut them off.”

You paused for a moment unsure if you heard her correctly but before you could ask her to repeat…

“Wings are an image of your freedom so prove your faith to me. Cut. Them. Off.”

——————

You were a weak goddess that was being hunted down by your old followers because you made a few… mistakes. These mistakes allowed hatred to brew, jealousy to take over your land and overall your people’s faith in you disappeared.

The only powers you had were flying as your wings were huge and the power of blessing rain for good harvest every year. All gods wanted your wings to hang as trophies for killing you because you were a lesser god, one that had their own followers betray them. You don’t have any power to defend yourself, you needed protection from your old followers and other gods. Unfortunately as most gods wanted to kill you, you couldn’t trust any of them for protection apart from a few…

The anemo archon Barabotes, the dendro archon Rukkhadevata and the cryo archon the Tsaritsa. The anemo archon disappeared and the dendro archon was dealing with the withering so you can’t go to them for help!

So you went to the last place you could get protection… Snezhnaya.

You travelled long distances, going over mountains, through forests and into the desert. With the bounty above your head, you couldn’t fly otherwise you would be spotted instantly. So you had to walk for miles, hide whenever someone came along and survive off hunting rabbits and berries. But eventually you arrived in Snezhnaya.

The bitter cold didn’t do any good for your wings… they could only be used to wrap around you to create a blanket of warmth. Eventually you were able to get to the frozen place. Even in the night it glowed an icy blue and glittered showing the reflection of the stars in the sky. The frozen place was beautiful but even a beautiful rose has thorns. You were granted entry to the great hall as if they already knew you were coming.

The Tsaritsa was breathtaking. A powerful aura… one you don’t wish to ever challenge. Walking further into the hall, you see all the fatui harbingers standing equal on different sides of the Tsaritsas throne.

This place was truly terrifying.

——————

“Cut them off.”

You paused for a moment unsure if you heard her correctly but before you could ask her to repeat…

“Wings are an image of your freedom so prove your faith to me Cut. Them. Off.” It was said in a commanding and intimidating voice that roared out sending fear down your spine.

“I want you to prove that you want to be my follower. You are a god. Even if you are weak… I will only accept those who prove their faith.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing… cut off your wings to get protection…

It’s … but you suppose it’s better than getting killed.

A weapon is thrown to your feet… waiting for your answer…

——————

A muffled blood curling scream echoed through the cold halls… no one breathed… no one made a single sound…

A thud was heard a few seconds later…

All the fatui harbingers were shocked while the Tsaritsa was unfazed. Unfazed of how much blood poured out your back. Unfazed of the pain smudging across your face.

One wing was off…

Your back was lighter… a horrible feeling. No longer a comfortable heaviness was there. No more extra warmth. It was cold… and painful. The wing had completely come off… but only one wing.

The fatui gazes stated disbelief and shock.

Just how bad did you need protection to go this far?

What a cruel demand…

You writhed in pain… it made you head go blank with whiteness as you had felt muscles rips apart and bones snap. The wing was completely severed from the rest of you… but this was not over.

You waited for the pain to lessen so she could move the weapon to the other wing.

———

This weapon was a simple chain with a handle and a spell that activated when you put any magic into it. You had to wrap this around you wing and put a slight bit of your magic into it… the spell activated.

The chain suddenly dug into your wing and go so tight it crushed through muscles and bone… until it had completely come off.

This time you couldn’t hold back a scream.

The scream echoed throughout the icy cold walls of the great hall.

As more blood gushed out of your wingless back, the Tsarista stood up from her icy throne, her heels echoing through the great hall. Standing above you… she kneeled down and spoke softly…

“Well done my child. I will use these wings to show a fake death… other gods will stay away. You’re safe now. Safe and… mine. My faithful servant”…

She wrapped her arms around you… not caring for the blood staining her white and light blue dress. She’s cold… colder than your now bare back. But a pleasant cold… safe and… your eyes grew heavy…

“It’s alright, I’ve got you. You’re all mine…”

————

Well… you’re free to use this idea if you want. Goodbye!

#genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin imagines #genshin impact fatui #genshin sagau #Genshin goddess au #genshin yandere

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hidden-poet · 4 months

Text

S. lands on top

summary: Coriolanus returns home to the Capital with two women from district 12 plaguing his mind. One a (presumed) dead mystery but another well within his reach.

warnings: unco, dark!Coriolanus, possessive!Corirlanus, Dark themes, mentions of death, punishments not fun-ishments, she/her pronouns, kidnapping, violence. lucy-grey slander (I love her).

unedited.

Next chapter

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

Coriolanus strides through the citadel.

His pace was quick and egger to reach its destination of Dr Gaul's playroom.

He passes a line of Peace keepers without a glace, and they don't bother him. Now knowing the face of the youngest game maker ever.

He yanks open the door, and walks down her long corridor of horrors to were she sat at her operating table, digging into a screaming creature.

He slams his piece of paper down on the desk beside her, and she eyes its curiously.

"The work I've done today" he explains. The crunch paper read the headline; the 11th hunger games: problems and solutions. And that was all.

She goes back to her work after a quick glance.

"congratulations".

"You need to do something about it" he throws his hands up frustrated and begins to pace, "i can't think. I sit in that room all day staring at paper".

He refers to his quite lavish and large office as a room. The Spoils of the Capital no longer foreign to him.

"A lobotomy perhaps?". Dr Gaul continues her work uninterested in the boys issues.

"Don't you want me to be the best I can be? Elevate the Hunger games to be something that the Capital people cheer and look froward to?"

"You would not be standing in front of me if i thought otherwise" Dr Gaul remarks.

"then help me. He stops his pacing to look at her.

"What would you have me do, Mr Snow?"

"Give me a letter of transit out of district 12"

"i thought you said you killed Lucy-grey"

"I did".

he is pretty sure he did. Even if the bullet never made fatal impact, she would never survive the infection let alone the elements of the forest.

'There was another. A young girl who would wash my peace keeper uniform."

"My!' the irradiate old women coo'd, "What a lover boy you truly are"

Enthralled by his request, Dr Gaul spins out of her chair and goes to retrieve the paper from her writings desk.

"A simple girl hinders you from completing your work? a district girl no less. Does she know this?"

"I've never even spoken to her" he admits.

Dr Gual lets out a loud laugh as she flicks her pen to her signature.

"You are more like me than you like to claim. You have your pets and I have mine" she walks over, holding the yellow piece of paper in her hands.

'Dare i say mine are more useful, but after all you are just a man"

Coriolanus reaches for it but she pulls it back.

"And man, when they are truly focused are the most dangerous things on the planet".

He doesn't shy away from her stare. It holds no horror for him any longer. Rather he challenges it. He had his fathers eyes. Cold, deep and unrelenting to opposition.

He wins another round and she pushes the paper into his hands. He gives no thank you as he turns back to the door.

'let's hope this one survives you".

Her words still him by the door, but he had no time to dwell. He had a train to catch, peace keepers to organize, and a girl to bring home.

---------

Mabel had just gotten home for the day. Had just set down her satchel and begin to make her way to the kitchen to help prepare dinner when peace keeps knocked down her door. Her complaints of the wet weather now seeming immaterial as they flooded the small house, turning its residents up against the wall.

She calls out to her father as he is violently shoved to his knees.

"That's the girl. the young one" a peace keeper nodded in her direction. Another turns, heading down the hall for you.

"RUN!" Her father demands and Mabel takes off through the back door. She runs through the pouring rain past her village to the backing forest were she knew she could hide.

Branches mark her face up as she pushes through the thickness. She couldn't stop, hearing numerus foot steps chasing her. She dodges and weaves hopping to lose them enough so she could hide.

A shot is fired, offering her a lull in the marching as their commander reprimanded them.

"unharmed! Unharmed! you imbecile! capital orders".

She jumps over a large fallen log and nestles herself as far as she could under it. The mud sloshes underneath her, weighing her knee length grey dress down while the rest of the mud smeared over her bare legs. The rain keeps pelting down which help to wash away her foot prints.

She wondered what she did to gain capital attention. Enough Capital attention that they would want her unharmed and not shot at first sight.

"little girl" she heard the same voice that reprimanded the others call out to her, "come out. We are not going to hurt you unless you make us".

Living in the districts all her life she knew that was a life. She clamps her hands over her mouth to quieten her heavy breathing, as she listens to their walking footsteps.

"If not for you" the voice continues, "Then for your family. They'll hang if you make this too hard on us".

Her family. She was powerless to protect them if she ran. She was powerless now, but provocation was the last thing Peace keepers needed to make good on a threat.

So she came out. A peace Keeper had just been to her left, above her. If he wasn't stupid he would have found her anyway.

he raised his gun to her and called out to the others.

"There's a good girl" The shrieking voice was placed to a little man. Short in statue and round. He had bushy eyebrows that nearly hit his helmet and a large flat nose.

"cuff her"

The peace keeper lowered his gun to do so.

"What have I done?" she asks as she is lead back through the forest with a tight grip on her arm.

"capital business. But you can add running away from Peace keepers and resisting arrest to the list".

"I haven't done anything. You can't do this" Mabel pleads. It was correct. She was an outstanding citizen of district 12. She worked more than she played.

'Take it up with the capital" The little man huffed.

She is led through the peering eyes of the village back to her home where a large Capital issued van was waiting. Upon seeing the retrieving group, half the peace keepers loaded themselves back up onto the wooden panels on the side ready for deployment.

The peace Keepers that pushed their guns into the back of her mum and dad's head relent as well. It was late and this mission had interpreted their dinner time.

She could see her father throw his arms over her mother keeping the old women from fighting a Peace Keeper. It would only get them all killed.

she was pushed to the van. not even allowed a goodbye. A peace keeper in the back of the van positioned himself to lift her up. He squatted down and held out his arms to lift. She was going to make it easy for him by stepping up upon outer frame but a voice lit the fire once more.

"Mabel!".

She froze. She knew that little voice from a crowd of a hundred.

her little sister had returned home from sewing school to see her being loaded up into a peace keeper van.

"Livy go to Mrs Flexures house. Go!".

She protested, choosing to run through a crowd of big men.

A Peace keeper caught her and lifted her up into his arms like a flailing fish.

"let her go" Mabel screams. She tries to make her way to her sister but is stopped by the Goblin caption.

Mabel was normally a outstanding citizen but hearing her sister screaming, she bit down on the captions hand.

He shouted as her teeth sunk, releasing her from his hold. She pulls against hands and sounds of the reserved peace keepers exiting the van to get to her sister.

She is stopped but it didn't matter, Livy was dropped in case the Peacekeeper needed both hands.

A fellow neighbor had ran out and grabbed her taking her into the safety of his home.

Mabel felt her heart beat back to life as her sister left harms way.

She smiles as she sees the backhand from the caption come down upon her. Her family was safe, it didn't matter if she wasn't.

The rain had eased up but left the ground with pools of red mud. Without her hands to catch herself, Mabel fell face first into one.

"Give me the thing" The goblin looking man demanded. A hand held contraption similar to the one the medics used to give them their shot was handed over.

she screamed and kicked at him, wiggling her way backwards on the ground. Unsure of what he had planned to give her. She doubted it was a vaccinee against measles.

he scuffled with her, pulling up the cap of her sleave and releasing the medicine into her arm.

It took effect almost immediately. Her vision began to blur and head rang only for the moment it took for her to be lifted and placed upon the vans floor among the booted feet. She could see one mans loosened shoe laces before darkness over took her.

-----------

Coriolanus waits at the train station. Hiding from the rain inside the door frame of the carriage. His eyes rake across the platform. He was getting impatience.

he had half expected by the time he made the journey they would of had her waiting for him. Instead he was left to wait in the cold. It had remined him too much of lucy-grey.

He had tried to remain seated in the warmth of the carriage, but he was far to restless to be bothered by servants trying to please him. He didn't want cake. He didn't want a hot beverage. He didn't want their hands over him giving him a massage.

he wanted to take his girl and be on his way.

But he remembered what district 12 was like. A collection of useless no hopers. He would be glad to finally turn his back on the place for good. With Mabel by his side there would be nothing keeping him from erasing his history here all together.

He pulls his gloved tighter on his wrist, and closes his red large coat higher to his throat. District 12 only ever swayed between the extremes.

He had remembered how hot it was the day he and lucy grey set path to their new home.

Sweat had rolled down his neck to his back. His t-shirt clinging unkindly to him. He was carrying all the heavy things while Lucy-grey wondered before him, unbothered by weight.

He took it as a punishment. It allowed weak people to drag him down, as this weight now did.

"I've been thinking" He swats a mosquito on his neck, "It ain't only us who can tie the murder to me and you".

lucy-Grey spun around to him.

"that girl. The one who helped us escape after they found the bodies."

She had looked at him for a second while ushering him and Lucy-Grey out a side entrance. he remembered the spark that ran through him after finally being seen by her. He tore free from Lucy-grey's hand less she think he wasn't avaliable. But he doubt she saw it from how fast she closed the door. Her sweet voice telling peace keepers they had gone the other way.

"who? Mabel?".

Mabel. He finally had a name. He asked around the compound but no one knew. She washed and ironed uniforms, who cared what her name was. But he did, and he finally had it as he fled from her.

" we should turn back around and get her. Make sure she doesn't talk. Even if they don't find the guns, word of mouth's all they need to come after us".

"nu-uh Mabel wouldn't rat us out. Peace keeps would have caught us Covey foke long before they did if it hadn't been for her and her secret hiding places."

Secret hiding places? was that why she was so difficult to find when he had patrolling duty. He must have swapped ten or twelve times trying to find her amongst the sections.

"You said it yourself people are tortured for information here. We should get to her before they do".

Life in the woods with him wouldn't be too different from life in the districts for her. He would try and make it comfortable. Going fishing every morning for her, and brining back his game from hunting. They would settle down and have a fine little life. Lucy-Grey would find her baring in the woods and go her own way.

"You my man, Coriolanus?" She asks. Her voice was full of anger and questioning.

Not even remotely. He was her victor , she was his pawn. Still, she was his only hope of getting as far as he needed to go so he nestles up against her and takes her thumb between his forefinger and thumb.

"Of course I am".

He kisses her to avoid suspicion but it lacks any true passion.

It seemed to satisfy none the less.

"She won't tell and even if she does we'll be too far gone for them to catch us".

He pulls away, sour, and continues to lead their journey to the cabin. They would rest tonight and make ground tomorrow.

he spoused in the dead of the night it could be Mabel beneath him and not lucy grey. He could put meat on her bones to give her a fuller figures like Mabel's. Ensure that Lucy-grey keeps her long hair and perhaps convince her to put it back in a braid like Mabel kept hers.

In day light so long as Lucy-grey was not directly in his eye sight he could pretend that it was Mabel's hand he clung to.

he had resolved himself to a life of pretend by the time they reached the cabin. Only to find the key to his freedom underneath the floor boards.

He picks up the gun tenderly, eyeing it as if it would disappear.

'What is it?' Lucy-grey asks.

He turns around and shows her. She must have known she was done before Coriolanus did. she made a quick escape to go get Katniss while Coriolanus was still distracted by his freedom.

He had made a comment about rain and she had made one back but he wasn't sure that exacts. He had them which means he didn't have to give up his Mabel.

Unless Lucy-grey blind with jealousy turned him in. His eyes flick to the door. She had served her purpose but now had to be eliminated for his future.

he follows his champion into the woods. Calling out for her. She was a killer, but so was he.

"Lucy-Grey!" He calls, looking for any source of colour he could find.

He saw a pop of orange in the distance and headed for it. It was his mothers scarf. he huffs and puffs as he picks it up, Mabel wouldn't treat his mothers things like this.

A snake jumps out as he lifts it before it runs away to quick for Coriolanus to get a good look at it to see if it was poisons or not.

He lets out a wicked laugh. he was going to feel bad for killing her. It was not her fault she was in love, but now the only thing he would feel is satisfaction.

He punches the ground as the pain pluses up his arm.

"Was that poisonousness? are you tryin to kill me?' he calls out once more, "Lucy-Grey! I said are- you- trying -to- kill- me?'

he picks up his gun once more and begins to hunt. He needed to kill her fast so he could get back to the medical Centre. It wouldn't do to die just as he is winning.

Singing could be heard and he whips in its direction before the mocking jays picked it up. Soft footed he follows, pushing down large bush with his gun.

he must have spooked her as she took of running gaining his attention. He fired a shot, and he could see her stumble, possibly hit, but she kept running.

He took off after her, his heavy pointed gun slowing him down. he pushes through the forest to where he expected her to be laying and begging for her life but finds the spot empty.

She was there, he suspects bending down to pick up her earring, but now lost to the sounds of the forest and damn mocking jays.

He lets off the camber into the sky hopping to kill some of the birds to quiten the sound. He ran out of bullets before he could make a difference.

It didn't matter she wouldn't survive out here on her own, and she would be too smart to show her face in district 12 again with the mayor and now officer Coriolanus looking out for her. When he returned to base he could explain to commander Hoff that he followed a rebel into the forest where he was attacked by the snake. He would suggest that a fence be put up around the district so no other lesser peace keeper would die, and no better rebel could make it their base.

Then he would find where Mabel lived, and take her away with him.

The idea fueled his movements as he packed up the guns and sunk them in the water. But as he let go for them to sink, he realized all the holes in his plan.

Even if he could convince her to come to the station with him by a gun in her side, subdued with threats to her family. How would he convince Commander Hoff to let her on the train. Could he somehow sneak her on the train past the people. Would they allow him to bring a luggage so large to officer training. And even if he managed to get her to district 2 how would he keep her a secret.

No. He had to leave her. Wait until he plowed through officer training and got back to the Capital. From there he could figure out how to bring her to him.

It was a delight when Dr Gaul called him back to the Capital instead. He had wanted to angle himself into a higher position, perhaps finish university, before he made his move. But thoughts of her marrying, giving up what was his, plagued his mind.

He wasn't regretful as he stood out in the cold. It wasn't a lie when he told Dr Gaul she was effecting his work. It was hard to stay focused in University, and in his apprenticeship. The districts married young never knowing how much time they truly had left.

It was a dangerous place and Mabel was in habit of offering a helping hand to crook and traitors. It was best that she took her place beside him now. He would just have to learn how to juggle yet another thing.

he wouldn't have much time for her between work, university, the steep climb to the top, and keeping favor with the Plinths as they doted on him as a son. But Tigress and Grandma'am would keep her company within the walls of the Snow penthouse.

He still lived with them. kept under his watchful eye and protection. He could now offer them a life that the head of the Snow household should be able to offer. The least they could do was look after his girl while he was away.

He straightened up as a small commander and a handful of peace keepers make their way across the platform.

A large peace keeper carried a small girl in his arms. She was unconscious. Not what he had asked, but perhaps made it easier on all parties.

He jumps down from the carriage as they near. He could see her cheek was swollen and busied. Her brown hair stuck together with mud and twigs. Her skin is dirty, bare and covered in goosebumps from the cold.

Still he considered her beautiful.

"give her to me" He demanded, readying his arms to take her. Mabel is slipped into them. She dirties his suit but he doesn't mind.

"tell the Conductor we are ready to go".

With his strength he hauls them both up into the private carriage. He takes her to the booth and lays her down so her feet were by the window and her head was resting on his thigh.

He shoves off her gloves so he could unbutton his coat and rest the soft material over her. It was warm in the cabin but he could feel a slight shake of her soaked body.

The train takes off and pushes him slightly back into his seat from the force. Once it gained a steady pace, the servants rose from their compartments and entered the cabin to serve coffee and cake.

They left him at his request, and remained drinking coffee and eating treats with one hand while the other laid upon Mabel's shoulder.

He was sure once they reached home he would get a lot of good work done. It would be early morning by the time the train reached the station. By the time he got her home, tigress and Grandma'am would surely be awake and having breakfast.

Grandma'am would be no bother. From a young age she allowed Coriolanus to do as he pleased. But Tigress would inundate him with questions and demands. He wondered if she would still be sleeping at this point in time. he hoped she would. Feilding question from two angry women at once might be too much for him to bare.

Until that point he allowed himself to enjoy this time. He was sure it would be some time before he got Mabel quiet again. The silence allowed him to plan his week. Summer break was coming up which meant he all his assignments were due. The Pliniths had wanted him to come vacation with them but now that wasn't a possibility. He would have to make up a story of Grandma'am ill health.

He could see the sun peeking up, and knew they must be close. Going into a tunnel being surrounded by vast nothingness and emerging through the city Centre, Coriolanus knew he had gotten away with it. He had the money, the power, and now the girl. All that was left was presidency, and that was ever so fast flying into his reach with the help of Dr Gaul.

The train stops and announces its arrival. he picks her up, wrapped in his coat and jumps off the train before the servants could position the ramp.

he ignores their warm wishes and heads straight to his chaffeur waiting outside of the station. He again ignores any form of greeting as he enters into the car. The driver closes the door he was holding open, asking as he sat back in the drivers seat if home was the destination.

A simple yes and the car took off.

he held Mabel on his lap as they drove home. He could see the driver look back in his mirror and Coriolanus wanted to put the divider up between them but didn't want to take his hands off his Mabel to do so.

It wasn't a long drive home, and he found himself barking at his driver to hurry up and open his door. Despite what was awaiting for him at home.

With the elevator now restored, he didn't have to carry her up flights of stairs. It was too early for the residents to be up and heading to work but the quicker he got Mabel inside the more secure he felt that when time came he could sell her as a unknown recluse heiress without too much trouble.

His keys were in his pocket which he couldn't reach without letting her go. Instead his shoes kick the bottom of the door and tigress is quick to answer.

'Coryo! oh my god"

He pushes past her, heading across the room to where Grandma'am sat at the breakfast table.

'What happened? is she alright". Tigress follows him to where he stood.

"She looks district!" Grandma'am muttered with disgust.

Tigress Places her hand across Mable's forehead to check for fever. She had always done it to Coriolanus as a child.

He shifts her away from Tigress's touch. He wanted to be the one that looked after her, and if Tigress felt even a slight fever he would never be able to shoo her away.

"What happened?" she asked again, peering over his shoulder to the thankfully still unconscious girl.

"Let me put her down first, Tigress" Coriolanus demanded.

he walked past Grandma'am at the table who had resumed eating her breakfast, to his room. He kicks the door closed behind him and lies Mable on his bed.

She had dried but so had the mud. It cacked her dress and along her legs. She would need a good bath and Coriolanus would need new bed sheets but for the moment he settled for retrieving a warm wash cloth from his bathroom and rubbing the dirt from her face.

She stirred a little, and he thought for a second she would wake up to see him hovering over her with a rag in his hand. But she didn't.

He thought about kissing her after seeing her deep state, but she was covered in dirt. He wasn't entirely sure that his lips would even meet skin.

It was a good thing too. He had enough to explain to Tigress who would have busted into his room at the exact moment.

"Who is she?" Tigress whispered.

Coriolanus ignored her and began to take off Mabel's muddy boots. His long fingers undid the laces and pulled the shoe, throwing them across the room.

'Coriolanus!'

He strode over and took Tigress arm leading her back to the living room. He leaves the door open so he could hear if Mabel woke.

"She'll be staying with us for a while"

the rest of her life.

"Why?" a valid question that Coriolanus couldn't truthfully answer.

"I saved her. They were going to kill her in the districts" not a whole lie.

"But why bring her here? is she hurt?". Good hearted Tigress was going to be dreadfully upset when she found out the truth.

"She'll be staying here. And I need you, Tigress to be friend's with her. Look after her while i am away".

"I don't understand" She begins but is cut off.

"You don't need to understand. You just need to do as your told. Haven't I been good to you? Didn't I bring us from ruin to give you everything you deserved?".

"Yes, Coriolanus, but-"

"Do this for me, Tigress" he begs.

She looks up to him and sees her little cousin. Her darling, little cousin who she would do anything for.

"Okay, Coriolanus".

He kisses her cheek and lets her go.

"Coriolanus" his Grandma'am exclaimed, "You're clothes are filthy".

-------

Mabel wakes with a fright. She springs her body up upon the soft bed and panics. She could see high, well built buildings out of the window against blue skies. They had taken her to the capital.

She looks around the room to see the door wide open. She sprints to it running out and down the hall. Her bare feet slapping against the ground.

She skids along the floor to a halt having seen the three high members of society.

Coriolanus could only have thought of two worse times she could have woken up. He was hopping to get a few more hours to take his weekly meeting with Dr Gual and return home to complete his next assignment.

But she stood now in front of him with wild eyes. The Snows had taken to having tea in the living room.

Coriolanus dropped his cup down and rose to speak to her but she took it as a sign of aggression and lunged to take a cheese knife off the table.

Grandma'am shrieked at the sight.

'I don't want to hurt you" Mabel spoke.

"You don't need to. You're safe" Tigress consoles

"Where am I?" the girl asked in a hard voice.

'The capital" Coriolanus answered. It was the first thing he had ever said to her.

"I know that. Where in the Capital. The prison?".

"Take a look around you. Not much of a prison". Coriolanus takes a step froward and Mabel holds out her cheese knife.

The Avoxes had left the platter to enjoy as they drank their tea. Now Coriolanus wished he had thrown the board out after them.

"is that were I am heading?" .

Coriolanus doesn't answer but takes a step forwards.

"For heavens sake, Coriolanus. Stop, You're scaring the poor girl" Tigress rose also to regain her cousin but he was too far out to reach to grab without causing the girl to act rash.

"Coriolanus" his name sounded heavenly from her lips, "you take another step and i promise I'll dig this knife into your stomach".

"I am not going to hurt you" he promises.

'I might hurt you" Mabel retorts.

"Get her, Coriolanus!" grandma'am urges and he shudders at himself loosing what remained of his good guy image.

"You're not going to the Capital prison. Just give me the knife and we can have a cup of tea and talk about this".

He holds out his hand expectedly but she keeps grip of it.

"If not for the prison. What am I here for?"

That was a question he could not answer in front of his cousin and grandma.

He points to the kitchen area as if some one was there, 'Get her" he yells to no one.

Mabel stupidly looks giving Coriolanus a chance to get close enough to pin her to the wall. He lays his forearm against her chest, keeping her flat against the wall, using his other hand to clamp down upon her fingers, repeatedly hitting her hand against the wall until she lost grip of the knife.

He kicks it backwards across the floor. He can hear Tigress calling out to him and Grandam'am cheering.

But the fight wasn't beaten out of her yet. His proximity allowed her to bite down on his shoulder. Her bruised cheek no longer a concern or mystery for him.

He groans throwing her to the floor, where he promptly picked her up again before she could catch her breath. He wraps his arms around hers and pulls her to her feet, pushing behind her back to his room.

She kicks and wails in his arms, but she was a starving district girl and he was a well built man. He gets her there with little trouble and throws her to the ground over the doors threshold. She is hardly on her feet before he locked the door.

Tigress had followed him. He didn't notice until her hand went flat against the wooden door. Pressing against the noise of mabel's banging.

"You can't leave her like this".

"She made the choice. I was happy to leave her in the living room with you".

he takes tigress back to the living room once more pushing on the small of her back.

'i am late already. Make sure Grandma'am doesn't call any peace keepers, while i am gone".

"where are you going?" Tigress wraps herself around his arm as he walks to the door.

'i have to met with Doctor Gaul" he explains to Tigress, "leave her there. I'll get out as quick as I can, until I do Just leave her to kick and scream. She dangerous, Tigress. Do not try and open that door".

The only key to his room hangs on his key chain but tigress was a innovative women.

"She's only a girl" Tigress counteracts.

"A district girl!' grandma'am yells.

he turns to meet her gaze.

"I'll be home as soon as I can" He looks in his cousins eyes for defiance, "Can i trust you?".

"Of course" her loyalty lied with him.

"The door remains locked until I get home then".

He shrugs off her hold as he puts on one of his old coats, and runs out the building with dirty clothes on.

-----

"You're nearly an half an hour late, Mr Snow".

Dr Gaul was in the same position as yesterday. Digging into a poor animal, trying to manufacture it as it screams.

"I know". The driver who was weary after waiting all day and night yesterday was not on top of his game in getting Coriolanus here.

She eyes his dirty clothes under his coat. Nothing left unnoticed in her presence.

'i take it you got your girl after you left me yesterday"

"i did"

''And i take it she wasn't all that happy to see you".

Coriolanus felt slightly upset that she didn't seem to remember him from his peace keeping days. To be fair, it was Lucy-grey she was focused on. She loved music and dancing, coming to every gig and staying at the front the whole night while Coriolanus watched from the back. Maybe it was for the best. He could present himself as a new man.

"She was ecstatic".

Dr Gaul put down after tools, and the animal stop squealing dead.

"So that's happy blood soaking through your shirt"

Coriolanus looks to his injured shoulder to see it leaking blood. Her biting wasn't a warning.

he huffs out and squeezes his eyes shut annoyed.

"Give me todays assignment. I'll do it at home".

Dr Gaul rises from her chair and pushes his coat and shirt aside to examine the bite wound. He stands still and allows her to.

"No assignment today. You look like you've got your hands quite full".

She places a hand on his bit shoulder and he drops it away in pain.

Dr Gaul begins one of her horrid laughs.

"this one might survive you after all".

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

likes, reblogs and comments are more than welcome!

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #tigris snow #hunger games #lucy gray baird

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vivalabunbun · 7 months

Text

When It Rains, Why Does It Pour?

Summary: Sand is quite a nuisance, it creeps into every crevice and no amount of dusting can free oneself from its stubborn hold. Yet, the tide still greets the shore.

Word Count: 8.8k (oh no...)

Tags: Neuvillette x GN!Reader, human!reader, SFW, fluff, childhood friends AU, Slow Burn, Slow Fic, Angst, Hurt with Comfort, themes about reincarnation, TW: Themes about death and loss, themes about aging, immortal x mortal AU, not lore accurate, reader is an attendant, human prejudice, Spoilers Warning: His story quest and archon quests, speculations about his past in Fontaine, why is he so mysterious

Authors Note: This was a challenge trying to write from the POV of a man you don't even know the name of, but I just had to write something for him. A character study of Neuvillette. Enjoy!

How long has it been since he first arrived here? One month? Two? Or perhaps it has already been a year? The young dragon wasn’t too sure.

The days seem to blend together when one only eats, studies, and sleeps all on repeat. A cruel trait of time. The weather outside the glass windows didn’t provide any hints either.

However, he himself is to blame.

A gray haze concealed azure skies as rhythmic drops of rain hit the earth. Blocking out the all-seeing sun and nurturing moon, the murky clouds above even hinder the stars from accompanying him.

A true reflection of his current solitude.

The young dragon arrived in the human world, brought over by the lord of Fontaine. Due to the nature of his arrival to this nation, he was given status and importance in the eyes of the citizens. However, he has yet to receive acceptance.

The grand estate in which he resides was staffed with countless butlers and maids, renowned chefs, and skilled tutors. He was wanting of nothing, yet still impoverished.

He could see it in their mortal eyes, he could sense it in the tangible silence of the halls, he could tell from the distance each mortal put between themselves and him.

Much like the towering stone walls which surrounded his private residence.

Was it to separate themselves from him or himself from them?

A question he entertains as lilac eyes scan over the aforementioned wall. Its gray stones are a welcomed change from the dry parchment with even drier content.

As he observes the drab stones contrast against a dreary sky, a small flash of white cuts through the somber composition.

Catching his lilac eyes as they follow the strange shape, it drifts through the capricious wind before the breeze grew bored and tossed it to the ground.

Studying it a bit further, the young dragon identifies the object as a simple pillowcase. Nothing more than a scrap of fabric.

He reasons that the wind must’ve stolen it from some clothesline. Just when he was about to return to the legal ledgers a rustling came from the bushes lining the bottom of the wall.

A small frame pushes apart the thick vegetation, creating enough space to finally free themselves from the entangled mess of branches.

The towering wall, the one meant to separate him from the mortals, was defeated by a mere child.

A child who’s clumsy brushing the twigs from their garments and shaking a few raindrops from their hair. He watches as the small human trots toward the discarded pillowcase, a pout forming on their lips as they observe the mud that had seeped into the silk.

Judging by the simple attire they don, they must be the child of a maid.

Ah humans, fickle and temperamental creatures created by the usurpers. It took a conscious effort on his part to stop the frown threatening to appear on his lips.

Seems like he still needs to get used to their presence.

It was as if the child sensed the bitterness in his thoughts because soon a pair of wide eyes connected with lilac. Even with the sun hiding behind dreary clouds, there was a light that twinkled in their irises.

It was only for a minute, no, even less than that. But a young dragon and a young human held each other’s gaze.

The child’s shoulders jolt as they turn their head back toward the wall, as if a voice called for them. Casting one last glance toward the young dragon, the child trots back toward the wall, disappearing within the murky viridescent.

And that was the end, like the breeze that littered a scrap of fabric among the grass, the small human came and went.

Such fickle creatures, the young dragon gives it one last thought before returning his attention back to a cluttered desk.

–

Amongst the soft drumming of droplets came a tap against the glass too sharp to be caused by the gentle rain. Causing the young dragon to turn away from the stacks of books laid out before him.

The wet glass obscured a small flicker of an orange glow, thus he walked closer to investigate. With each step, the figure outside the window became undeciphered.

That small human again.

Locking eyes with the human outside the glass, the fickle creature’s lips curl up, the glow of their lamp illuminating the curiosity behind their gaze.

A human child doesn’t have the potential to cause much if any harm to him. Thus, he releases the lock, removing the glass barrier separating two breathes.

“Hello! What is uh… your name?” They chirp out.

His sharp ears picked up the clumsiness in their speech, the subtle unfamiliarity of the words they spoke. Distinct signs that you were still learning the language of Fontaine, much like him.

Although he understood your question, he was too distracted to answer. Lilac eyes wandering off toward the stone wall. Within the entangled mess of twigs, there was a small parting.

A part just wide enough to reveal the secret the bushes desperately tried to hide: A small hole along the bottom of the stone barrier. Just enough for a small creature to slip through.

Discovering the truth behind how a small human was able to defeat such a seemingly impenetrable wall.

The pattering of the rain was interrupted by the rustling of fabric, drawing his attention back to the small human in front of him.

The child rummages through their pockets before pulling out a lump covered by a handkerchief. Peeling back the layer of fabric to reveal some conch madeleines, presenting fragmented sweets before the young dragon.

“It tastes good, I promise.” A small hand extends itself further through the open window.

Observing the crumbly sweets laid out upon a handkerchief, the young dragon halted the rejection that almost escaped his lips. Remembering the concepts he had just been reading before this.

Humans tend to follow a set of unwritten rules, principles they like to call ‘manners’. There weren’t any punishments issued by law if those rules were broken, no imprisonment or fines.

However, narrow-eye stares and whispers behind backs were the punishments issued to transgressors by society.

So, he accepts a piece, trying to ignore the sand-like sensation against his tongue. As he chewed, the grin on the human’s face only got wider.

“Now that you’ve taken one, you have to give me your name, it’s only uh… fair!”

Ah, it looks like he’s been tricked. Falling into the clumsy sugar-coated trap only a child could come up with. Yet, as his lilac gaze caught the twinkle still ever so bright in their eyes, he didn’t have the strength to form a frown.

Just a curious human child, only as dangerous as a firefly buzzing in his ear. There shouldn’t be any harm in disclosing the surname bestowed upon him by this nation.

“Neuvillette.” He finally said his first words to you.

A peculiar pattern is recurring. That rainy night when Neuvillette opened those windows, it looked like he welcomed a phenomenon in as well.

Even in his current state, a small human like you could pose no possible threat to him. Thus, whenever a certain tap was placed against the glass. He saw no reason to turn away the visitor. Allowing you to climb in through his window time and time again.

It would’ve been better if you used the door. However, he’s aware of the complications such a request would bring.

Perhaps it’s because he’s currently in the form of a young child, sharing a similar stature to yours. From his observations, humans do have a tendency to gravitate toward those with similar traits. Or perhaps, you’re just exceptionally brazen.

Neuvillette glances up from his book, thick with endless sentences describing obscure and frivolous laws, landing on your frame lazing around upon a rug.

One hand holds onto a collection of fables, pages illuminated by the gentle rays of a star. While the other periodically reaches out toward a pile of conch madeleine.

A sight he’s come to expect now.

Lavender eyes follow your hand as it brings another one of the crumbly sweets to your mouth again. You brought them over under the pretense of sharing them with him, yet they’re already half gone. The only hand reaching for the sweets being yours.

Just like how it was last time, and the time before that, and the one before that as well.

If you felt this complacent in his presence now, then perhaps he can be more candid with you. As is common practice among humans to present a polite front that gradually wears away each recurring meeting.

“You do not have to bring over any more conch madeleine.”

The moment those words left his lips the motion of your hand halted, looking up to connect your sight with his, confusion pinching together your brows.

“Oh? Why so suddenly?” The collection of fables now resting on the rug.

It’s already been done, the first ripple in the frangible water between you and him. There is nothing that can cease the waves that accompany the first breach. He might as well say the whole truth.

“They are dry, I cannot fathom how you can bring yourself to eat them.” Prescriptive eyes caught a faint flinch as you processed his edict.

“They taste fine to me…” You mutter, picking another one up.

This time you chewed slower. The pinch between your brow only grew as you tasted the sweet again, searching for the perceived flaw.

As you met his gaze once more, he could tell your search brought forth no fruitful conclusions. Thus you asked another question in response.

“Then what do you like?”

Besides the pleasantries commonly exchanged between humans in Fontaine, Neuvillette recognizes he lacks the talent for small talk.

The room usually filled with your grievances about whichever tedious task you were assigned before you slipped away behind a wall and into his private residence. Ambient noise which accompanied each flip of a law book.

It is long overdue for him to pull his weight in a conversation.

“Water, spring water.”

“Huh?”

Neuvillette repeats his sentence but the scrunch of your brows doesn’t ease up, he couldn’t fight the urge to draw in a deep breath. So this is the limitation of the human palate, how regrettable.

“Perhaps you are still too simple to appreciate the qualities of water.”

The pout upon your crumb-covered lips morphs into a tight line, sealing away your voice. The brightly printed cover of a storybook was shut as the last few remaining treats were bundled away in a napkin.

Your tea break ended early today, impassive eyes following your figure as it disappeared among the thick vegetation beside a stone barrier.

It was quiet today, not even a single parting uttered past your sealed lips. Therefore leaving the conversation unfinished.

But that is today, you’ll have another tea break tomorrow, and you’ll come to him with your grievances about chores tomorrow as well.

The young dragon returns his focus to the text in front of him.

–

The soft hymn of raindrops against a glass window reverbed through the solitary study, providing a melody for the periodic flips of paper. But the melody was hollow, incomplete.

Shifting his body to look behind himself at the vacant rug, Neuvillette deduces why. The accompaniment was missing.

That tomorrow he had come to expect never came.

Had he committed a transgression? Overstep a line outside his place? Food is a point of pride for many humans, one oddity he’s yet to grasp.

These temperamental creatures tend to lash out when their pride is wounded, much like how a beast reacts to an unhealed cut.

Neuvillette was curious as to whether this was an inherent trait of humanity or a learned by-product of the fickle principles imposed on themselves.

However, observing the abandoned storybook tucked away, the young dragon is leaning towards the former.

Turning back to face his desk, his eyes could only glaze over the monotonous scribbles. Perhaps the cause of his spiritless attitude was disappointment, disappointment in himself.

It looks like he was careless, deluding himself with the misconception that you and him were alike. Two outsiders who found solace in each other’s presence.

However, this was false. You were an outsider to Fontaine, but he was an outsider to this world where humans walked.

He’s still too naive.

Fickle and temperamental creatures spoiled by the usurpers at the expense of his ancestors.

Why did he even entertain the thought that you and him could ever be alike?

Something stirred from within, like when pebbles were thrown into still water, but what were those pebbles? As Neuvillette ponders this conundrum, the drumming of the rain grows louder.

However, it wasn’t loud enough to swallow up the sharp set of taps which interrupted his somber reflection. Jolting him from his thoughts, snapping his attention to the source of the noise.

There stood a figure distorted by the wet glass as another set of sharp taps sounded through the room.

Before Neuvillette could even process it, his body moved without his command. Unlatching the lock and setting the window free from its frame.

Not sparing another second to the raindrops soaking into their cloak, the figure clambers through the window with practiced proficiency.

Without uttering a single greeting, not even one pleasantry, you situated yourself on his floor. Melting into an undignified lump on the pristine tiles as bewildered eyes watched you.

After catching a few breaths, an explanation finally makes its way to his ears.

“T-they… they patched… up the hole,” you huffed out between short breaths.

Ah, the small cavity in the stone wall that you used to escape from chores. Looks like the security at the estate finally noticed.

Gauging the height of the wall from his place by the window, he’s aware of how it towers over both him and you the same.

This brings up another question as he returns to observe your frame, still trying to catch the breaths that evade you.

“I… ran… through the gates… before the… Gardes noticed…” Exhaustion evident in your eyes as pants break up your sentence.

Ah, looks like his question was answered before he even inquired. To be puzzled or amazed, he wasn’t too sure how to categorize this ripple inside him.

The tomorrow that’s been missing for a little more than two weeks, is now right in front of him.

Panting and leaving a few muddy traces along the marble floor, but here nonetheless.

With one deep motion of your lungs, you pushed your body up, finally getting ahold of your breath. The familiar rustle of your pocket, the audio cue for a certain dry sweet to appear. Neuvillette didn’t mind in the least.

Perhaps, he can bear the sandy sensation just for today. But tomorrow is always filled up with surprises, a glass bottle finding its way out of your pocket instead of sugary treats.

“What is that?” An obvious question, but his voice found its way out of his mouth.

“Water, water from the servant’s well, I bottled it myself.” A small hand holds the bottle out more.

“Thank you,” Neuvillette accepts it into his hands.

He should really acquire some glasses to pour the water out into, it’s improper and bad manners to drink from the bottle.

However, his curiosity was greater. Or maybe, he didn’t realize just how parched he had become from waiting for tomorrow.

Uncapping the clumsily packaged water, he takes a generous sip.

“It’s sweet.” His tongue picking up on a subtle saccharine undertone.

“Really?” Your hand reaches up as that familiar shine illuminates your eyes.

Taking a sip from the bottle passed back into your grasp, your brows furrowing in concentration. Another sip was taken from the bottle as you continued to search for the sweetness in the water you’ve always drank.

A sight that tugged up at the lips of a boy still studying the shape of your quirked brows.

Humans, fickle, perplexing, yet astoundingly curious creatures from the very beginning.

If he is to walk amongst the human world, then it’s best for him to be equally curious. To try and search for the harmony between two different breaths.

A child of a maid far from their homeland. A status too insignificant to warrant the attention of Fontaine's factions, freeing you from their prying eyes and entanglements.

Therefore, it should be alright for him to continue observing you, no?

“Ahh… The rain is so unpredictable here in Fontaine, trying to hang out the wash here is always a gamble.” You sink further into the plush cushions of his settee.

As the sun rose and fell, as the leaves grew green then gold, as the ground froze and thawed.

One thing remained unchanged throughout these cycles even as they repeated: your grievances over chores.

The frequency of these complaints reaching his ears has increased, on the part that you now took over more of your mother’s responsibilities in managing the laundry of this estate.

Besides your habitual complaints of the weather, one detail didn’t escape Neuvillette’s hearing: your proficiency in the Fontainian language has increased significantly.

Words no longer spoken clumsily or with unfamiliarity. Accent nearly indistinguishable from a native speaker.

“The people here are fond of creating strange machinery, why can’t they make something to dry clothes?” You resume.

The quill in his hand stops as he pauses in the middle of a sentence, glancing over his shoulder toward your slouching figure making yourself comfortable in the sofa that’s more familiar with your shape than his.

“Perhaps you should be the one to create it, studying might do you some good as well,” came his curt response.

His candid advice makes you sink further into the cushions with a groan.

“I’d rather travel than study those jumbled-up books about machinery or whatever, in fact, I want to visit my homeland as soon as I can,” you grumble aloud.

Ah, that’s right, you’re approaching the age where you could travel freely.

By law, you won’t be bound to the side of your mother, not needing any permission to come to and fro however you wish. No longer kept at this estate washing and folding sheets.

Indeed, you and him found yourselves in similar situations: on the cusp of freedom from this estate.

While he was deep in thought, you filled the silence left behind by posing a question to him.

“Do you plan on visiting your homeland anytime soon, Neuvi?”

By now, the young dragon had stopped expending the effort to try and correct you in your butchering of his surname. Your reason being ‘it’s too long’.

Alongside you, he has grown in stature as well, elapsing you some time ago much to your dismay. If he wished to travel, not much would pose a problem to the young dragon.

However… where could he return to? A homeland… was there a section of his homeland untouched by the usurpers? If he were to go, would he ever want to return to this world?

Sensing the change in the air, dreary clouds blocking the sun’s rays from your skin, you were perceptive enough to ramble about a different matter.

Namely, how the chef of the estate recently changed the type of flour used in the kitchens, resulting in pastries and sweets that were less airy but more flavorful.

Explaining to him the subtle improvements and deterioration in the quality of some baked goods. Filling the air of the study with bright-eyed ramblings until rays of light peek out from waning clouds.

–

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It’s been a while since you’ve visited!” Soft patters of skipping steps made their way to the tall man.

Tilting his sights down, Neuvillette greets the cheery melusine with a gentle smile which she returned with an equally bright grin.

While on a routine stroll along the riverbanks to stretch his legs after a long day, he found himself at the entrance of Merusea Village.

He wonders if it's his body’s natural response to get away from the Palais Mermonia and Opera Epiclese.

Carrying him toward the direction of a secluded reprieve he discovered far away from the suspicious eyes of weary humans.

Condemnatory eyes were constantly pinned to the back of the young dragon who had recently emerged from a sheltered estate to sit in the grand seat of a Chief Justice.

Days filled with nothing but a cacophony of voices echoing off the opera house walls. Screams from the accused and the eager murmurs of spectators blended into nothing more than a chaotic din in his ears.

Gazing deeper into the small lake, the unsuspecting entrance to a hidden haven that the Melusines called home.

It would only take a moment, just one dip into the pristine water for him to disappear from the clamorous mortal realm.

Abandoning the overly grand seat of his post as easily as it would take for his head to vanish under the tranquil tide.

How great would it be to exist in the presence of creatures who could resonate with his own adriftness?

Maybe, he could finally discover the purpose of his current form and longevity in their company. Yes, that sounds about right.

Just as the water wet the tip of his overly ornate shoe, all motion his body stills at a familiar call.

“NEUVI!” Came a voice from just over the beaten path.

Soon your silhouette follows the echo of your call, steps hurried yet worn.

When the young dragon departed from his temporary estate and into the Palais Mermonia, a certain specter followed him as well.

The same specter who’s currently huffing to catch their breath after such a rush. Trying to gather enough air to form their next sentence.

“There you are! The grand tailor sent me to fetch you because you’re almost an hour late to the fitting of your new robe, they need to make sure the measurements are correct,” you chide.

The exasperation of your words was most definitely caused by the fact you had to physically exert yourself in your search for the wandering Chief Justice. Evident by the pout on your lips and scrunched nose.

His attention was quickly torn away from your recuperating figure by a faint tug of his slacks.

The Melusine had hidden herself behind his legs, creating a barrier between her and the strange mortal who seemingly appeared from the blue.

Her sudden movement caught your attention as well.

Ah, that’s right. The Melusines have yet to be acquainted with humans, and humans with Melusines.

Two different species, two different breaths, and two different sets of eyes that can’t seem to see directly into each other.

If his time within the wall of the estate and Palais Mermonia had proven anything, it would be the natural adversity humans had to differences.

Neuvillete certainly wasn’t prepared for such an event, nor was he sure how to handle it.

In the midst of his inaction, your hand reached into your pocket, fumbling around before pulling out a handkerchief-covered lump.

Despite the soreness in your legs, you lowered your body until you were at eye level with the shorter Melusine.

“Hello there, would you like some conch madeleines?” Unraveling the fabric to reveal the sweets which you seem to have an abundant supply of.

The grip on his slacks tightened as she glanced up at him, lilac eyes catching the hesitance in her irises. Neuvillette gives a subtle nod, giving just enough reassurance for the small creature to release his pant leg.

Reaching a mitten-like hand toward the golden sweets, it only took one bite for the hesitance in her eyes to be replaced by a bright twinkle.

“It’s tasty isn’t it?” Your lips formed a wider grin.

The Melusine responds with an eager nod, too occupied with bringing more of the buttery treat into her mouth.

At the sight of her restless chewing covering her cheeks with faint crumbs, you let out a giggle.

“I’ll give you the rest of the sweets if you tell me your name,” you offered.

After a few moments of the Melusine finishing her previous bite, she falls for the same trap he had many years ago.

“My name is Carole!” She chirps.

“What a wonderful name.” Your gaze softened further as you held out the treats, keeping your promise.

As Carole reaches for more, she glances back up. Wide eyes twinkling as she inquires him with the one thought currently on her mind.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, does the human world have more treats as delicious as these?”

Ah, it looks like the stroll Neuvillette took today to relieve himself of mounting troubles only led him to more.

The skies over the Court of Fontaine have been in a pensive stalemate, all too familiar clouds blocking azure hues. However, rain has yet to patter on the ground, as if the weather was unsure of itself.

A feeling shared by the Chief Justice currently sitting at his desk, reviewing the details of the day’s trials. Albeit, half heartily.

Much like the skies crowded with clouds, in the solitude of his office, his mind rang loud with thoughts. Neuvillette only had himself to blame for the current silence of his office, it’s been this way for around a week going on two now.

Lilac eyes peered over the tops of the papers toward the shut doors, concealing him away. There hasn’t been a knock on those doors for some time now, due to the diligent Melusines who followed his request.

Turning away potential visitors with crafted excuses of ‘The Chief Justice is handling a very important case’ or ‘My apologies, but the Chief Justice is very busy’.

Neuvillette recognizes that he’s currently no different than a child hiding away from the consequences of a broken vase.

How childish, he chides himself as he returns back to his responsibilities. How would the citizens of Fontaine react to their Chief Justice conducting himself in such a manner?

He’s sure if Lady Furina were to catch wind of his behavior, she’d be greatly entertained.

As if the mere mention of the nation’s archon presented a bad omen, the sturdy doors of his office swung open, revealing the face of a familiar visitor who’s been turned away one too many times.

“My my, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen the inside of this office, I almost forgot what it looks like,” you remark as your eyes hone in on him.

The child’s hiding place under the bed has been exposed.

“Good afternoon, I was not made aware you had any appointments with me.” Neuvillette’s own eyes trail past yours.

From behind the door frames the figures of two Melusines quickly dodged away from his sight. A silent admission of guilt on their part, and Neuvillette didn’t have to look hard to deduce the crime they’ve committed: Accepting bribes.

The evidence was right there in the form of buttery crumbs left on the corner of their mouths. Ah, you and with those conch madeleines of yours.

It’d be best for him to finally handle the situation at hand, one he’s been trying to maneuver out of.

“If I recall correctly, you were granted a vacation, why not take this chance to travel? It certainly is a prime opportunity-”

“Why have you been avoiding me, Monsieur?” you cut through the long-winded pleasantries and excuses.

His lips press together, by now he’s well accustomed to your brazenness. However, the absence of a familiar name only said in your voice made the guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders.

Guilt which originated a few weeks prior.

—

On a secluded riverbank, a routine walk under clear skies was halted. You were knelt down on the ground, uncaring of the sand sticking to the fabric of your clothes, as you held a Melusine between your arms. Two mittened hands clung to you as she soaked your shoulder with tears.

“W-why? Why did he have to go?” Her sobs interrupted by sudden hiccups.

As you rubbed circles into her back, something he saw humans do to soothe their crying young, Neuvillette watched from the side. Much like how he would observe those performances within the Opera Epiclese.

Liath is her name, a diligent Melusine who patrolled the grounds of the Palais Mermonia. By her side, there would be a guard poodle who’d matched her skips with his prances. An inseparable duo, or it’d be more accurate to say, they were once an inseparable duo.

Dogs are a species domesticated by humans, some might argue that they were created by humanity through generations of selection. So it stands to reason that they too would have a limited lifespan.

In fact, they have a lifespan even more restricted than that of the mortals who tamed them.

The Melusines have just begun walking amongst humans, there were still many aspects their sheltered minds have yet to grasp. The fleetingness of mortality is one of them.

Thus, Neuvillette did his best to caution them.

However, just like how laws can’t completely stop crimes, his words can’t completely prevent such tragedies. All he could do was try.

“I’m sorry for your grief, this was the very reason why I cautioned you against getting too attached to him… A dog’s life is brief-”

“Monsieur Neuvillette.”

The sentence died at the tip of his tongue as his eyes met yours. Gaze narrowed and brows furrowed, not even the Chief Justice dared to interject any further.

After you silenced him, your focus returned back to the grieving Melusine.

Slowly standing back up from the ground, her frame cradled in your arms as her sobs continued.

“I know it hurts,” you whispered, one hand patting her back, setting a steady rhythm reminding her to breathe.

“B-but why? W-why is it so sad?” she hiccuped.

You hummed, beginning to bounce her a bit within your hold.

“Wouldn’t it be sadder if you never met him?”

At your question, the Melusine stares at you through teary eyes. Expression lined with confusion.

“To have loved him, and for him to have loved you in return…isn’t that enough?” You cooed, taking steps away from the riverbank.

Still frozen in his place, the dragon could only stare at your back as it grew further and further away, soon disappearing from his view.

He had misspoke.

Neuvillette recalled last Autumn. As the vivid hues of the foliage shriveled up to nothing more than a shadow of their former beauty, you laid your mother to rest. Burying her in a cemetery which overlooked the direction of your homeland.

His unsolicited reprimand must have been throwing salt into a wound that still bled. He had overstepped his authority.

Murky clouds congregated in the once clear sky.

—

Those were the events that transpired, events that have led to the current stalemate happening in his office. Lilac eyes couldn’t seem to find the courage to connect with yours. Another excuse finding its way to his tongue.

“Didn’t you want to visit your homeland?”

“Oh?” Your brow quirks up, as your hands find their way to your hips.

“And then who’d be here to repair the tears in your robe when you inevitably step on them?” Obviously unimpressed by his suggestion.

“Surely there are other talented tailors here that can handle the task,” he rebukes.

“Oh? Will they also untangle your hair from the ornamentation of chairs?” You press on.

“I can manage.”

“Then can the Chief Justice also manage all the uniforms for the Melusines? Can he sew every button and ensure they fit correctly?”

Ah, with your last statement, Neuvillette concedes. A hush fills the room.

The Melusines are still new to walking amongst humans, not many were willing to tailor specialized uniforms for their short stature. Thus, you took up the mantle.

Perhaps out of a sense of responsibility, it was you who stirred their curiosity with those sweets of yours.

It seems responsibilities tethered you to the Court of Fontaine, much like they did to him. After a few breaths, as always, your voice shatters the stalemate.

“I’m not upset, Neuvi.”

With those words, his lilac eyes finally connect with yours. Finally able to see the soft curls at the corners of your lips.

It indeed has been a while since he last saw such a sight.

This time instead of replying with an excuse, he responds with a gentle hum.

“Ugh, why are your curtains so dusty? When was the last time you went outside?” It wasn’t long before your attention returned to the state of his office.

Strolling past his desk, your hands began to fuss with the thick drapes. Pouting at the dust that coated the lush fabrics.

All Neuvillette could do was follow with his gaze, papers long pushed to the side as for the first time in a while, an azure hue was seen peeking through the clouds.

From his observations, it’s instinctive for humans to avoid pain. However, it’d be hypocritical of him to judge mortals for actions he’s been guilty of.

“If I knew I had to work this hard now, I would’ve skipped more chores back at the estate,” you chuckle, pulling back the drapes to allow gold to illuminate his office.

To have loved and have been loved in return.

Was this the human rationale behind taming a dog? Having the reality of the future constantly lurking over each happy moment as the hands of time tick forward.

Why do humans dote on pets? Creatures that only live a fraction of a mortal life?

Are happy memories a fair exchange for bitter grief, or are they the cure?

As Neuvillette counts the strands of peeking silver that mingle within your lush locks, he prays he finds the answer soon.

The clacks of ornate shoes reverberate down once unfamiliar halls, a towering figure lurks past bustling nurses who bow their heads at the sight of the Chief Justice as he passes by.

With a body like his, there is no reason for him to wander among these halls. Or more accurately, there once was no reason.

The taps of his soles slowed as a familiar door came into view, the only detail which differentiated it from the rest of the hall being the brass numbers displayed. Bringing up a glove-clothed knuckle, delicate taps were placed against the wood.

Almost immediately, a muffled ‘come in’ resounded behind the frame. Granting the Iudex permission to turn the polished knob, allowing him entry as the hinges sang their welcome.

“My, my, if it isn’t Monsieur Neuvillette, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” A grin spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes.

Instantly his frame stiffens in the midst of returning the door to its frame. Bringing his free hand up to his face, Neuvillette coughs as to compose himself once more.

“Please, forgo the formalities.”

Though your eyes might not be as sharp as they once were, the delicate dusting of pink along his pointed ears couldn’t escape their sight. Making your eyes crinkle more.

Feeling entertained enough, you cease your teasing and gesture toward the vacant chair beside your bed.

Obediently, his towering figure strides up to the seat, the wood squeaking under his weight as he settles onto it.

By now, the dragon has grown accustomed the structure of greetings, beginning with a layer of pleasantries.

“How have you been fairing?” Lavender eyes scrutinize the sheets and pillows, searching for any unapparent flaws.

“It’s just a mild case of pneumonia,” you muse aloud.

Momentarily resting his eyes behind a slow blink, all he could do was sigh at your brazen nonchalantness. Yet with a ghost of a smile on the same lips that sighed.

It was a mild case of pneumonia, a common ailment during the frosty months. For someone as steadfast as you, such an illness might’ve surrendered to your stubbornness.

It might've surrendered… if your body had remained as it once was.

How unfortunate it all is, that time is so cruel to mortal creatures.

Attentive eyes detailing each crease that settled by your lips, remnants of the many grins and laughs that stretched your face.

The basking light of a selfish star catches in your hair, lush hues that have faded to brilliant ivory. A shade that you often compare to his while jesting, ‘We match now’.

However, Neuvillette begs to differ, the sunlight is much more luminous in your tresses.

Trailing his sights back to your gaze. Deep lines formed by countless dynamic expressions drew attention to the glimmer forever present in your irises. Like paths on a map that led lilac eyes to yours.

“How are you finding your stay?” At times, Neuvillette found himself wondering how the azure tides appeared from your view.

“Mm, quite uneventful, eating, staring out a window, sleeping.”

He hums in response, contemplating if he should inquire you about such subjects. As you ramble, perhaps the dragon could grasp onto an inkling of understanding.

“Well, at least I can say that my stay has been anything but lonely.” Your eyes motioning toward a corner.

The bland, sterile wall overshadowed by a mass comprised of trinkets ranging from local flowers to any object whose surface catches light.

The heap grows day by day as each Melusine continues to bring their earnest gratitude to the human who sew each stitch of their coats. A sight that could stir even the most placid lake.

“They’re such sweethearts.” Each one of your words coated with endearment.

Once more, all the dragon could respond with was a mellow hum. Slow breaths fill the complacent silence between two species, one blessed by time and one shunned by it.

Neuvillette has grown accustomed to the structure of conversations but, alas, he still has no talent for small talk.

In the absence of dialogue, the layer of short pleasantries long dissolving, Neuvillette is left with nothing but his inquiries. It was all he had left, and so it was all he could offer.

“Are there any regrets you hold?”

“Oh oh? Getting sentimental so out of the blue, Neuvi?” A familiar quirk graces your brow.

“It’s nothing of the sort, just a musing that drifted in my mind during a stroll, I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.”

“Mmm… I don’t feel that I have any regrets, living an honest life and having the fortune to never have stepped foot in the Fortress of Meropide.”

“Is that really all? You never did get to travel like you dreamed of back at the estate.”

“Haha, trying to stump me with that, Neuvi?” you chuckle.

Relaxing more into the pillows which propped up your weary frame, you trail your sights toward the window.

“Didn’t I tell you already? I’ll have plenty of time to travel once I become a cloud, I can go everywhere the sky can reach.” Smile softening on your lips.

Neuvillette’s folded hands grasp one another tighter on his lap, his own lips pressing each other into a thin line.

The conversation was teetering closer and closer to the unspoken reality looming like a shadow in the room.

He wasn’t sure when it started, maybe when the first silver strands appeared in your hair or when you discovered his skin won’t wrinkle along with you.

He wasn’t sure when your adamant belief of becoming a cloud once the shadow came to claim you started.

Neuvillette wonders if this daydream was the product of those fables you browsed when you laid upon a plush rug.

Or was it your personally crafted fable to explain the incomprehensible to a creature who couldn’t fully grasp it?

A creature whose skin didn’t wrinkle, whose bones didn’t grow brittle. A creature seemingly untouched by time.

Fairytales do serve this purpose for children, magical fantasies to make uncomfortable realities palatable to naive minds.

“...vi?... Ne…?... Neuvi.”

A hand marred with age takes hold of one glove-clad hand, and a pleasant heat radiates through the leather. Coaxing Neuvillette’s attention back from its escapade.

“My apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

But the frown weighing down on your lips didn’t disappear, much like how retreating into musings couldn’t wash away any shadows.

Your chest moves with a deep inhale.

“Maybe I do have one regret,” you began.

Readjusting your ailing fingers in his hold so that he could hold them with equal endearment, his ears concentrate on your voice.

“Actually, I have many,” you sigh.

Before he could formulate a response, you continued.

“I wish I could have shoulder the burdens you carry. I wish you would’ve shared them with me. And I wish I could even understand them, then maybe I could have understood you more.” Turning to face him, your disheartened eyes center on his frame.

A child born from a maid, a maid who traveled to Fontaine in hopes of a better future for her child. That was your origin, an outsider with neither fame nor fortune.

Thus, even as you followed him from a secluded estate to the grand Palais Mermonia, you could never follow him in status nor influence.

As unrest grew, as injustices mounted, and as tragedies took away friends.

All you could do was repair tears, sew buttons, and pour him a crisp glass of spring water as you waited for the storm to wash despair away.

That was how you saw it. But Neuvillette rebukes that notion.

The dignity of a newly established Chief Justice, who kept stepping on his overly ornate robes, was carefully maintained by you.

The Melusine’s uniforms, which solidified their presence in the human world, were crafted by you.

The patient hand that always offered silent comfort in the suffocating courts was yours.

Standing by his side, even as your bones grew to ache, to ensure the storm would pass and the sun emerge once more.

“You’ve done more than enough.” He states the truth, grasping your hand just a bit tighter.

“Are you sure?” Those airy chuckles of yours made their appearance again.

“I never even learned your real name,” you interject.

A knife, red hot and fresh from the forge, would have hurt less than the guilt which tore through him at that moment.

The Chief Justice, the symbol of honesty and conviction, is unable to tell the simplest truth.

What shall he do now?

The power of a name is often underestimated, the exchanging of names signifying the forging of a bond. One that would forever tether him to you and you to him.

Oh, what shall he do now?

Before his hesitant lips could take action, they were halted by a squeeze from your ailing grasp. Firm and warm, like a light that guides him up from the bottom of a turbulent ocean.

“You don’t have to tell me now, Neuvi, tell me when I come back from my trip.” Those gentle eyes of yours smile at him.

Reeling his hand in closer to you with your own, until the softness of your lips was felt along covered knuckles.

A common practice in Fontaine, one Neuvillette had witnessed time and time again as he passed the lovers who congregated by the Fountain of Leucine. Actions that dedicated promises to one another.

“I swear, once I’ve traveled enough, once I grow bored of foreign scenery, I’ll fall back down like rain to your side.” You whisper into the kiss.

It was his turn now, and he shall honor this ritual. Tenderly bringing in your hand to him, Neuvillette places his oath.

“Then I swear, when you return, I’ll tell you my name.” He whispers in the kiss.

The sterile rooms echo your airy chuckles as he keeps your hand close to himself for just a bit longer.

“Mmm… Where I should go first? Maybe I’ll just amble about,” you ponder aloud.

Gracing him with a smile which stretched your face and brought that familiar glimmer into your eyes.

“I wish you well on your travels.” Neuvillette presses another kiss into your knuckles.

–

Spring was always the rainy season for Fontaine, with gentle temperate showers to welcome the budding blooms back from their Winter sleep.

However, this year the torrential downpour was anything but gentle.

Planned trips canceled for the season, clothes remaining damp in baskets, and streets empty of their vigor. Even the Melusines couldn’t bring a skip to their steps.

It was as if time itself was slowed by the burdensome downpour.

The cawing of crows as their wings beat against the dreary winds adds to the lonely hymn sung by the raindrops.

At once the cadence of the rain increased, the downpour growing heavier, and the violent pattering grew deafening. As if the sky was now belting out their sorrowful ballad.

The rain could try. The skies can cry all they would like. But time, a cruel and unforgiving mistress, won’t ever stop.

To have loved and been loved, was it truly enough?

In Neuvillete’s eyes, he was the tide and you were the shore. The ebb and flow of water as the tide and shore met, time and time again.

Each crash into the shore stirred up something perplexing and disorderly within the tide, irritating like the sand that mixed into the pristine waves.

So the tide tried to retreat into the lonesome ocean.

Each time, the shore followed through grains of sand which the tide couldn’t ever seem to purge himself of.

Each time, the shore beckoned the tide to return to the sandy beaches of humanity filled with perplexities and disorder.

And each time, the tide surrendered to the call of the shore, lured in by its warmth.

But now, the shore has eroded away.

Where does the tide go now?

Drifting now in the vastness of a lonesome ocean, carrying nothing grains of sand. What shall the tide do now?

Neuvillette still has a lot to learn, for he couldn’t answer this riddle conjured by his own mind.

Unable to stop himself, the lone dragon stares off into the rain.

Eyes honing in the direction of a peaceful hill, one where a mother and child were laid to rest side by side overlooking a homeland they never got to visit.

Maybe that was the first destination of your journey.

During these past short years spent in this land, the young successor of the dragons has gained traitorous knowledge. One that undermines his preconceived purpose.

Neuvillette feels he’s grasped onto the faintest inkling of why humans, as fickle, perplexing, and fleeting as they are, were still the most beloved creatures of the gods.

Perhaps, he even understands now why those usurpers were willing to uproot the earth just for those beloved creatures.

The wet season transitions into the dry season, then the dry season will transition into another wet season. Again and again, on and on as the hands of a clock ticks forward.

Each new tick signifies another step forward in the march of time.

Each step brings change and each step pulls the present away from the past.

The rainy season of Spring was no longer as troublesome as it once was, as there was now a machine on the market that could dry clothes without the help of a bright star.

Melusines skip along down the paved paths of the Court of Fontaine as humans turn to greet them with endearing smiles.

New cafes line bustling streets as Clockwork Mekas make their evening patrols.

A great many changes have come to Fontaine, Neuvillette witnessed them all from his office at the Palais Mermonia.

A great many changes, yet some things are bound to stay the same. For example, the Chief Justice’s fondness for strolls along vacant riverbanks.

The gentle patters of raindrops lull the chaotic sympathy of trials, paperwork, and duties to a standstill. Reaching a hand out in front of him, Neuvillette catches a few drops in the palm of his gloved hand.

Lilac eyes examine the diminutive puddle in his hand before ultimately releasing the water back to the earth.

He supposes he’s been feeling a bit nostalgic as of late, like a child recalling a story which once soothed them to a peaceful slumber. How childish it was for him to believe he could somehow catch a certain raindrop in his hands.

Turning up toward the drab sky, he searches through the endless and identical droplets that fall down and leave trails along his face.

No, not yet. Perhaps they have yet to see all that the sky has to offer.

Neuvillette returns his focus to the path in front of him. The rhythmic clacks of his shoes match with the soft drumming of the rain, and in the midst of this harmony a voice singings out:

“Hydro dragon… uh… Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

Halting his stride. Judging by the unfamiliarity of their tongue pronouncing the lullaby, Neuvillette deduces they must be a visitor to Fontaine.

Ah that local legend, just how far has it spread? Nevertheless, an unfortunate traveler who’s unfamiliar with Fontaine’s seasons is now caught in this rain.

It would only be polite to offer them some assistance as the Iudex of this nation. Thus, he turns in the direction of the call.

His suspicions were confirmed once his gaze landed on a distressed frame, their face obscured by the jacket they held over their head in a makeshift umbrella.

It only took a few steps for the towering man to make it to their side.

“There is a tree you can take shelter under just ahead,” he advises the lost traveler.

Now aware of his presence in front of them, they lifted the jacket from their line of sight to peer up at him. Revealing the details of their face to lilac eyes for the first time.

That was all it took for the symphony of rain to come to an end.

Soft drumming decrescendos into tranquility. It seems as if there will be an earlier welcome of flowers.

“Oh?” You gaze up at the azure hue now peeking out from receding gray, astonishment reflected in the glimmer of your eyes.

You’ve only heard of a local Fontainian legend from a guide pamphlet offered to tourists as you awaited the Aquabus.

When the rain suddenly began to pour as you ambled about a riverside, in a moment of desperation as you scrambled for shelter under a thin jacket you uttered the phrase.

You weren’t sure if the hydro dragon could understand your botched pronunciation, but it looks like he did.

Turning back to face the kind stranger, you wanted to convey your amazement to him. But the words fade just off the tip of your tongue when you peek back at the towering man.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as dumbstruck eyes widen at the sight of the drenched man.

“Mister?… Are you alright?” You scan over him, turning your attention away to sift through your pockets.

How bewildering it must be for you to witness a well-dressed and noble figure drenched to the bone. However, Neuvillette made no attempt to stop the rivulets rolling down his cheeks, a parting gift from the Spring showers.

He wonders as his gaze never left your frame, were tears perhaps this warm too?

“Here.” Your concern-ridden hand offers up a neatly folded handkerchief to the drenched man.

As your eyes connect with his, a strange sensation tickled the back of your mind. As if it was trying to recall where you’ve seen the familiar lavender hue.

Maybe they matched the shade of a flower field you stumbled upon during your travels, or maybe that lilac luster was revealed to you in a dream.

A strange familiarity you couldn’t name.

“Thank you very much.” He accepts the simple piece of cloth with tenderness rivaling that of conservators handing the renowned paintings of old masters.

The clouds were long gone by now, perhaps they felt that their purpose had long been fulfilled. The golden rays of a lone star shone with all their brilliance, finally free from behind their blanket of drap clouds.

It was only now that Neuvillette found out. The rain he had been yearning for all these years did in fact see all that the sky had to offer.

They had grown bored of drifting over vast plains, missing the picturesque countryside of Fontaine. Or perhaps their curiosity grew too great, wishing to finally hear a truth that was kept from them.

So much so, they quietly fell down from the sky, to return to his side again.

Much like the hands in a clock, the cycle of water and earth follows a similar circular path.

The rain had eroded away stubborn earth with its diligent drumming over the years.

Bit by bit and piece by piece until stone fractures into bits of sand. Over and over until a sandy beach was formed by the side of a patient sea.

Then the tide will reunite with its long-awaited shore, to return the sand and promise it cradled within its waves for so long.

~Fin

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