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kinsbin · 5 years

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Meetings with The Devil

Title: Meetings with The Devil Ship: Alexys/Negan [Self Insert/Canon] Word Count: 2148 Summary: Alexys is settling into her life as part of the Alexandria settlement. After the war and with Negan’s capture, things slowly return to normal. That is, until Carl approaches her with an offer for a job he’s confident she can do. That job being caring for a certain prisoner of war under Rick’s watchful eye.

A/N: A fourth commission for @bad-blue-moon-rising! More her and Negan because, uhhhhh, otp much?

Rumors circulated like wildfire in Alexandria. The small community often found ways to trade secrets, each whisper returning to its owner like an ouroborus of knowledge as they were fed through the ears of several different survivors at once. If you closed your eyes and listened close enough to the otherwise quiet town, you could hear those murmurs of endless gossip floating up into the air like helium-filled balloons that popped only when they reached the atmosphere, scattering its contents down and back to where it started. That rain was like a drug to human beings as they fed off of every word exchanged. Every breath of knowledge offered in exchange for other knowledge or favors or something more.

Alexys disliked playing a part in it. Though she often listened in on the idle gossip spoken between ladies at the laundry facility or gentlemen along the border patrol, she never joined in. She never contributed to the words. It made her unpopular amongst those doing the gossiping, certainly, but they never tried to stop her. It was always as if they wanted her to hear it all, which, wouldn’t quite surprise her. After all, what was the point of gossip but to be heard? It was a parasite in all societies. A bug in a machine.

But oh-so interesting nonetheless.

“Did you hear about that Negan guy?”

Alexys paused in her thoughts to listen in on the couple at her side, their heads tucked closely to one another but their words all too loud to be secret as they shouted between words as the hub-ub of the market scattered like working ants around them.

“Oh man, yeah,” the other whispered back in awe, “Grimes captured him right? Threw him in jail and everything.”

“Yep,” The second of the two stuck up their nose in a haughty fashion, “If you ask me, though, he should have killed him. Man like that...he’s dangerous still existing even after he’s beaten. Never know when he could try to break out.”

“Grimes is an ex-cop. There’s no way that guy could break out of anything he makes or enforces.”

“You’re saying that as if being a cop in the past means anything now. The world’s changed, man, and so have our meanings. It’s crazy.”

“Oh speaking of crazy, I heard-”

The gossip faded into something insubstantial that Alexys easily faded out of her mind, her lips caught against her teeth as she chewed thoughtfully, mulling over the words she had just heard. They had won the war with the man named Negan and, truth be told, she was grateful that Rick was able to keep him alive instead of kill him off. As much as others wanted it, certainly, there had been enough bloodshed throughout the war. Enough of it was spent without mercy to warrant some at the end of it all. Even the enemy side, after all, had their own views, no matter how different it was from their own. That was how the world worked. That was how people worked.

“Alexys!”

She stopped in her movements at the familiar voice that shattered her mind. Her head turned, strands of hair messing themselves awkwardly in the wind as she did so. Carl waved at her casually, his smile easy on his mouth but never fully reaching his eyes. It always hurt her to see him force it on himself like that, but, she understood why he did so. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t do it herself once in a while. It was part of the reason why they had bonded so well, she supposed as she painted her own smile on her face and turned to greet him, they both knew what people expected them to be in the midst of their own thoughts.

“Hey Carl,” She spoke softly, “I heard your dad has that Negan guy. Is he doing alright after all of it?”

Carl gave a nod, his head tilting as he considered his next words for her. Eventually it gave way to him shrugging it off with a statement of, “He’s doing okay, he’s got a lot of rebuilding to do though...we all do.”

“I’m sure he does,” Alexys sighed, “If there’s anything I can do to help the both of you, even if it’s just for you to talk to, I’m here, you know that right Carl?”

There was a haphazard nod at her, but, then a light seemed to strike itself on in Carl’s head. A match that flickered briefly in the wind before riling itself up into a forest fire as his head snapped towards her, his single eye wide as he watched her carefully for a few seconds. The gaze was so intense and so similar to his father’s own hardened stare that she had no doubts that it was hereditary.

“Actually…” Carl bit his lip for a moment as he figured out how to word it, “...There might be something you can help us with.”

---

Alexys stood in the doorway to the prison quarters, fingers fidgeting against themselves as she watched the walls of the silent doorways loom before her like a ghost. Carl had brought her with him, explaining his plan in quick succession so that she could barely keep up. Something about being trustworthy. Of being kind. Of being loyal so that his father, the LEADER of the place you were currently living in, would have no reason to doubt her or him...to do what, exactly? That’s what had startled her.

“You want me to take care of Negan?”

“Well,” Rick cleared his throat as he approached Alexys with his son, “That’s a pretty broad term. It’s more...I want you to make sure he’s fed. Make sure he’s still there. Check in. Don’t worry, we’re giving you a few small self defense weapons and we’ll have a guard outside at all times, in case anything happens-” He paused for a moment, as if trying to recall anything else that might be important for her to note, before nodding slowly, “...My son trusts you, Alexys. He’s told me good things about you and...Frankly, I don’t have the time to do this. You’re welcome to back out, I’ll understand...I just wanted to see how good his word was here.”

There was a pause as she considered, each word he spoke careful as he offered out a tray she hadn’t noticed him carrying before, a simple ration of bread and meats and a glass of water hanging in it as tense as the conversation. She stared down, blue eyes wide with realization at the duty she had been given. To take care of a prisoner of war...To help the community who had rescued her…

Alexys took the tray with a slow nod of agreement.

“I’ll do my best, Rick.”

---

He sat in the corner of the room, the shadow of the bars around the windows casting themselves over his face as he listened to the sound of the door opening, then closing, and then footsteps. They were slow, almost scared in their approach...They weren’t Rick’s, that was for certain. Still bloodied hands clutched tightly together, Negan didn’t open his eyes until he felt the presence of the other at his side. Until the sound of the footsteps faded away as they halted.

His gaze lifted up, dark eyes meeting lighter, doe ones as he held Alexys in his sights. The silence around them was thickening for a moment, the air heavy with tension as they regarded one another with completely different auras around them. Negan watched with interest, but with heaviness. A weight on his shoulders seemed to press him into his slump as he watched her the way a wolf might a prey that had come all too close to its cage bars. Alexys was cautious as she moved, her own body tense as she approached and tilted her head, watching him as she stayed quiet...simply observing.

“Well,” Negan finally spoke with a twist of his lips into a half-smile, “You certainly ain’t Rick, now are you? Nah, you’re way too pretty be him...”

The chuff of laughter that escaped Alexys, accompanied with the blush his words brought upon her, only made Negan chuckle in response as she bit her cheek thoughtfully, as if hiding the smile behind it would somehow help.

“Good to see you too,” She retorted smugly, “I’m, uh, I’m Alexys.”

With that she set the tray down on the bedside table nearest to him. Negan turned to face her, tilting his head to observe all of her at once before nodding his thanks and reaching out to take some of the food into his hands. When he held the bread, he turned it to either side as if observing it. Alexys stood, nervously, and watched.

“Why did Rick send a girl like you,” He pointed at her with his bread before returning it to himself, “-to watch a guy like me, I wonder…”

“Oh,” Alexys felt her hands touch one another, “I was just an option and…”

“You don’t know, huh?”

She flushed and rubbed the back of her head, a shrug producing itself against her shoulders. Negan bit into his bread with a nod, unable to hide the smile that had begun to spread itself on his lips as he laughed through the mouthful.

“You know, sometimes I think shit is better that way. Who cares what you know, just go with your gut through the situation. Instinct is an important thing, Alexys.”

“Only sometimes,” She muttered with a gentle shrug, “Anyways...I…”

And he waved at her with a nod.

“Thanks for the bread.”

---

Two months into the process had brought about nothing dangerous, merely a sense of comfort in the routine of getting up at the same time each morning to delivery Negan breakfast upon Rick’s request, going about her day as she usually would, and then returning at the prompt time to give him dinner as well. Negan, for all intense and purposes, was not the man she was sure she had heard about.

Certainly he was rough, his words blunt and sharp as he spoke them with an easy smile and hardened belief, but...She could describe him as funny in a way. Sweet in that he always asked her how her day went before taking a bite of his food. Short answers to deter him soon turned into long and genuine descriptions of her activities. Of gossip she had heard and of animals she had seen just outside the borders of Alexandria. A short minute spent watching him and making sure he started to eat shifted to a half an hour of them discussing things. Discussing themselves, the words of conversation flowing easily between one another the longer they had grown more comfortable in each other’s presence.

It was on the third month it had slipped out.

“The trees in our orchard are growing well,” Alexys spoke as she leaned against the wall while Negan began to chew into his dinner, leaning on his bed to listen to her speak about the progress of the orchard she had become fond of helping to take care of, a single activity outside of her home she usually spent time in, “They’ll be bearing fruit soon! Next time we go out, I’ll show you where they are and-”

She stopped speaking as he had stopped chewing, her face showing the mortified look of someone who had just registered what they had said. Negan, too, was startled. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, a blush warming his cheeks as the two of them stared together in the now awkward silence of the room.

He smiled though.

“Asking me out on a date so soon?”

“I’m so sorry,” Alexys sputtered out, “I didn’t mean to-wait. Date?”

Negan couldn’t hold back his laugh as she covered her face, blush clear on her cheeks as she looked away from him and waved him off with a huff of shock echoing as her only response. Negan stood, setting his bread to the side and touching at Alexys’ shoulder. She relaxed a bit, eyes widening as she looked up at Negan, who tilted his head with a softer smile.

“Sure,” He laughed, “How about when I get out of here? I think I’d like to see those trees you grew when that time comes.”

She doubted Rick would ever let it come. She doubted anyone would trust him enough to be free anytime soon. Still, with that smile of his and that dorky laugh still echoing in her head, Alexys grinned back and nodded with her own chuckle, reaching out to pat at the hand on her shoulder as she sighed.

“It’s a date, then.”

Maybe, she hoped quietly, it’d come sooner rather than later.

#self insert #self shipping #self ship #writing commission #twd negan #twd self insert

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theload · 7 years

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Ouroborus, The Touch, and Pure Ouroborus

Since today is the last day of the contest, I figured I would make a post explaining exactly what is going on with this lore, for anyone who may have had trouble following it.

OUROBORUS

Long before the multiverse existed, in the primordial void that surrounds everything, there were forces known as Embodiments, representing different forces of existence. The Embodiments were wild, chaotic, and would often battle each other. In an attempt to keep the peace, Ouroborus, the first dragon, was made. Forged from pieces of each of the Embodiments, Ouroborus has the power to face them all.

Unfortunately, he was still a dragon, and in time his greed and desire to consume overwhelmed him. Ouroborus created the first hoard, using the Embodiments themselves, and trapped them in his coils. Rage alone was able to escape, and in doing so wounded Ouroborus. From these woulds were born Chaos and Order, Embodiments and Dragons both, who built Rage a lance. With this weapon Rage slew Ouroborus, and Ouroborus's being was split apart, scattering across existence.

For those of you who don't want to interpret my creation myth, here's the TL;DR. Ouroborus in my lore was the first dragon, though rather than being a strictly flesh and blood creature he was a magical force representing everything recombined into one. When he "died," his being was broken apart and scattered. These broken pieces would become a spirit fragment called The Touch, named after the in universe phrase "Touched by Ouroborus."

THE TOUCH

As we have established the Touch is a spirit fragment originating from Ouroborus. But what does that actually mean?

Rather than being a singular and uniform mass, in my lore the Spirit (or soul, as some may prefer, though this isn't an accurate term in my lore) is made up of pieces. Think of the spirit as a cell, or a solution. Cells are one thing, but are made up of different organelles. Solutions likewise are different things dissolved in liquids. My spirits are the same way. You have the bulk mass, and then smaller bits here and there which determine what the spirit actually is.

The Touch is one such fragment, and it's what makes something a Child of Ouroborus (CoO). While there are a lot of different kinds of CoO, they can more or less be divided into two broad groups; Touched and Awakened.

While there is a wide variety of both, the main difference between the two is that the Touch of Touched is passive, existing and able to be acted on, but not really accessible to the individual. The Touch of Awakened, on the other hand, is active, able to be used directly by the individual. How it's used can vary widely, but what matters is that it can be used.

PURE OUROBOROI

A Pure Ouroborus (Pure Ouroboroi in the plural) is a specific species of Awakened. They are defined by their unique Touch signature, and their ability to use their Awakened Status to transform themselves into different kinds of CoO. But while shapeshifting is not unique to them, many creatures, including many CoO, can do it, what is unique is how their shapeshifting works. Usually when a creature shape shifts, only its physical form changes, not its genetics or spiritual signature. This is the reason why Half-Dragons can exist. A dragon in human form is still, in the genetic and spiritual sense, a dragon, so its offspring inherits this.

A PO, however, fully changes species when they shape shift, so long as they are something which is a CoO. Think of them as the draconic versions of stem cells or white light. So while most dragons shape shifting into something like a cobra or a tiger is merely disguising itself, and its offspring will be hybrids, a PO shifting into a cobra or tiger is fully changing its species, and its children will be pure.

#Pure Ouroborus Contest #Dragon Spam #Here There Be Dragons #Dragon Info #Draconian Lore

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