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#universe: aeon of fate

luminecent-sky · 3 months

Text

Ooo i just got called out by that (hook still at Lv.1 at e3)

Well, in the case of Hook, she thinks (and this is reinforced by all the adults) that the Aeon of Fate wants to keep her safe! Because the Aeon knows best, and obviously, this is one of those moments.

While some of the older followers are more saddened by this, Asta and other followers that have responsibilities are thankful that they were given the strength and use it to do their duties more easily.

Teens like Clara, Yanqing, and HuoHuo, however....

Silence falls upon the teens as they take a break from training on the Astral express, seeing the adults come back from another successful adventure with their grace, the faint feeling of divinity that enveloped the train leaving it soon after they settled in.

Yanqing looks over at the other teens in envy as they talk about the small adventures they sometimes joined their Aeon on.... Lynx looked particularly pleased as she recounted a valiant fight against a silvermane commander that she participated in.

It had only been a few hours since she became a vessel of Fate, quickly gaining power, and only a few of them could imagine of, unless you were Qingque or Pela, though the latter had confessed that her growth had been stopped as soon as a certain member of the Nameless reawakened his Vidyadhara powers.

Still, surrounded by other vessels that were younger than him, though being a teenager himself by the Xianzhou standards still stung. Was he not strong enough? Not capable enough? He knew that Sushang felt the same, but she still had something that he envied, she was at least a vessel with multiple glowing eidolons. He wasn't even chosen.

The Aeon was there when he fought the Stellaron hunters, when he fought Jingliu and he still lost, despite how their grace had done their damndest to help him triumph, guiding Pollux as she fought him under the control of that wicked woman, Kafka... were those battles, tests?

Did the others have to face such things before they became vessels? Has he failed in the eyes of Fate? Was it the will of Fate that he could never be chosen? He sat there polishing his swords as doubt continued to swirl in his mind, he has to get better, for himself, and to prove that he was worthy enough for the Aeon to look upon him as a vessel worth relying on. The deep-seeded fear of abandonment rearing its ugly head the longer he dwelled on it.

He needed to train, get his mind off of it.

—

Silver Wolf was getting bored, her games had gotten boring, and having no part in Elio's current script aside, she had to start from scratch, thanks to Herta and Screwllum* removing her accounts... along with the fact that she wasn't chosen as a vessel,

It shouldn't bother her. This was fine, even Kafka wasn't chosen, the gacha didn't roll in her favour and all that. But it did sting, especially when Blade became a vessel, one of the main vessels, always returning back to base healed and with an expression of peace, unnerving to those who hadn't spent any length of time around him.

Sending a hologram to the Astral express, she had the chance to talk to Pollux, to connect to their Aeon before the faint divinity she could feel faded away.

She could never get used to it, the feeling of something watching you from every angle, seeing you, and through you. As the 'hacker', being unable to hide behind a screen, a hologram never sat right with her... she would only show herself when she wanted to cause chaos, or something really peaked her interest.

But lately, it seemed like the world was shifting again. The way that the other vessels moved seemed to be more.... lethargic, like their god had gotten tired and bored of them, it was unnerving to see the usually chipper and smiling members of the Astral express like this.

Until she found out the reason for this development, their god had encountered a lull in interest, much of the content had become tedious, boring, and much like a chore. But it would be alright, surely this game world would expand and bring their gaze back to her.

Just need to wait for the next update.

Clara always strived to be a good kid, caring for everyone in the vagrants' camp, making sure all the machines were in working condition and such.

It was always her dream to have everyone get along, no fighting or resentment, so she was overjoyed when the Aeon set their sights on her home, maybe they could really help unite everyone, sure they fought with Mr. Svarog, but it was a misunderstanding!

And after they came to help life had been slowly improving for everyone in Belebog.

They no longer had to fight with the other miners, and they could finally see the sunlight, feeling the breeze from the overworld. As a whole new world of opportunities opened up for her and the people of the Underworld.

But as she saw the others become blessed, blessed to help, blessed to make a difference in their slowly recovering planet, she felt empty.

Why was she not allowed the same? Was she not good enough? Had her efforts to help those she cared about lacking in the eyes of their Aeon?

Even if the other vagrants and robots assured her of the contrary, that seed of doubt would stay in her heart, taking root and slowly growing.

Nourished by the passing of time, as their Aeon moved to help other worlds, akin to a wound left to fester.

She hoped that one day she would be good enough to be seen by their god.

All she could do was wait.

A/n: no u didn't see this posted last year, tnx

lmaoo it rotted for so long, i will make a part 2 to this i think

#writings from the cosmos: star rail #sahsr #sahsrau #universe: aeon of fate #honkai star rail

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fatescaprice · 4 months

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hiiiii ☀️ can i ask for something about aventurine and the reader who is part of the express family (not trailblazer) ? it can be some love at first sight thing, or maybe where they meet again in penacony and turns out they both had some hidden past with eachother b4🤭 of course, you can choose whatever storyline to go with as well with this reader🤍 thank uuuu

aventurine and a nameless reader

content warnings: vague penacony spoilers

note: hello anon!! i went with the second option since i just looove reunions ... i had a lot of fun writing this but i also had to google how a lottery works ... i'm embarrassed ... i hope you enjoy!

You and AVENTURINE had met ages before he became a bigshot at the IPC, back when he was doing Aeons-know-what to scrape by. Whether you were friends or rivals or had to use every fibre in your body to keep yourself from insulting him on sight, you eventually parted ways and both, quite reasonably, assumed that you would never see each other again — the universe was far too big for that, after all. He saw you off as you boarded the Astral Express, and resigned himself to thinking that your meeting was little more than a lucky draw.

That is, of course, until you run into each other by chance in the lobby of the Reverie. He doesn’t pay you much attention at first, but his eyes end up wandering to you almost against his will as he sorts out your grey friend’s room issue. When did you change your hair? Did your voice always have that kind of cadence? His customer-service smile turns a tad more genuine as he turns to you once it’s over and your friends had dispersed within the lobby. “What a pleasant surprise,” he drawls. “Long time no see, huh?”

Aventurine offers to catch up over drinks, if you’re so inclined. Time is money, but that’s how you normally celebrate making new friends and reuniting with old ones, isn’t it? He’ll treat you to whatever you like while you tell him about your travels.

Even after he gets his own business sorted, he can’t help but notice how you two seem to keep running into each other, as if by little twists of fate. Your room across from his, the sound of you laughing with your pink-haired friend in the lobby, the sight of your back as you wander around the Golden Hour.

If fate keeps bringing you together, Aventurine would be a fool to not capitalise on it, wouldn’t he? He’s quick to slink over to your side and suggest a wager: “You look lonely,” he’ll say, rolling a coin back and forth over his knuckles. “Say, if I win big at the lottery over there, how about we spend the rest of the day together? We can even call it a date if you like.”

It’s a bit of an unfair bet, all things considered — he doesn’t often make bets he can’t win, and while it’s little surprise to him as he claims his prize, he also takes the time to relish in your surprised expression. What, did you really think he would lose? Don’t be silly. Now, tell him what you want to do — he’s already planning an itinerary in his head before work inevitably drags him away that evening.

Even as you two spark up another conversation (What’ve you been up to all this time? Got any travel destinations he might like?) he can’t tell you the whole truth, not yet — but in the meantime he can wrap one arm around your waist just like this, and watch how the dreamscape tints your eyes a shade of the most opulent gold.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #✎... writing.

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theguyinthemathexamples · 5 months

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From the Beauty, to the Creation

— to celebrate my beloved Argenti coming home after i first lost to Bronya (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

— C/W : trying a new fic format, extremely self indulgent, possibly ooc 😞, spoilers?, my first sahsr/sahsrau fic‼️

Being the vessel of an Aeon that was thought to have long since passed was no easy feat, as it required other Aeons to set their sights on you first.

Some call Them the Aeon of Creation, others the Aeon of Fate; the IPC have yet to decipher their time of arrival, much less their motives. Though, most theorize that they materialized long before the first atom had started moving, only to stay dormant in a state akin to hibernation after setting the universe up for self replication and ever expansion.

(more utc‼️‼️)

Their presence felt like home, a warm embrace, maybe even a light in the dark, or perhaps a form of escapism. Everyone is sure of one thing: once you accept Their calling, and accept the Astral Express's conductor's invitation, there will never be a way to turn back.

To others' eyes, a faint string can be seen reaching the heavens itself, tracing down a vessel, caressing their whole beings like a forced blanket thrown at their face.

An almost addicting bliss could be felt after these possessions, before that moment of ethereal release comes crashing down. Though, those that are used to always moving around — those with more stamina — don't usually feel this drawback as much as the others.

More often than not, the feeling of being watched and dazed dissipates and a feeling of fatigue sets in — intense tiredness, and even a slight chance to feel dizziness, had been reported from these... events.

But most importantly, a voice could be heard. A voice that many described as one which contained a thousand choirs, perhaps millions.

Among those was Argenti, a man of excellent talents that walked on the Path of Erudition, though claims to walk that of Beauty. One of the most recent vessels, per say.

He first felt this presence after accidentally hitting the Astral Express with his own ship, the "One and Only", he called it, the faint strings caressing the being of three out of the six Trailblazers.

To exude such a warm, calming aura around one at all times is truly a magnificent display of beauty, he thought.

The second time, however, it was quite a sudden moment. A strange letter was penned to him, claiming that it could make his goal of spreading the Beauty, if he used the golden ticket provided inside, a dozen steps closer.

The weirdest aspect was that he kept hearing faint whispers around him. Was this how vessels gained an invitation?

Though, feeling hesitant about this strange letter, he chose to send it instead to the Commander of the Silvermane Guards, Lady Bronya Rand, so that someone else could experience such a wonderful event.

The letter warned him that he must accept this invitation, were he to receive such a letter once more.

Third time's the charm, as they say, as not only did Argenti get another letter not too long after, the voices were much louder this time. They were more persuasive, more hoping and, most importantly, more enticing.

The letter beforehand told him of the earlier warning, and this one did not hesitate to emphasize it in the second paragraph.

And, left with no other choice, he had to accept this invitation. He truly didn't expect getting treated with such warmth and excitement seeping through every vein in his body.

He briefly caught sight of the Aeon in all their glory — was this a sign that his fate towards meeting the Beauty was slowly coming into fruition?

Being blessed by two Aeons, even briefly catching their attention, was a feat unlike any other, but being chosen as an active vessel by one? What a truly great achievement.

Along with the Trailblazer that caught him, four others stood behind them. A master swordsman that went by Yanqing, the owner of Neverwinter Workshop, Lady Serval Landau, the Commander of the Silvermane Guards he'd given the invite to earlier, Lady Bronya Rand, and a child that waved at him who called herself Lynx Landau.

Quite an interesting group of people, but a beautiful bond of friendship swirled among them nonetheless.

Slowly, he could feel himself getting stronger, even more so than before. This mysterious Aeon had gifted him so many things already, yet it doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

From the creations of the acolytes of the Aeon of Remembrance, Lightcones, to relics which were created from anomalies caused by the Antimatter Legion, and more — all were given to him to make him more powerful.

It was as if meeting and becoming the puppet of this Aeon could make you undeniably better than your former self, even after you thought you were already at your peak.

The world doesn't revolve around you? The creator of the universe lovingly revolves around me 24/7, thank you very much.

In a place unknown, a black haired Stellaron Hunter sneezes, causing two others beside him to sneak a small glance.

He merely huffs, averting his own gaze away.

... Ignorance is often bliss.

This is my first time writing my beloved so I'm sorry in advance if he's ooc 😞😞

I hope you all liked this cuz i def liked making it hehe

Next on the agenda? My thoughts on sahsr/sahsrau :DDD

#sparkling wheat ♪#silver lined strawberries ♪#stellar-borne cookies and cream ♪#self aware honkai star rail #sahsr #sahsrau #honkai sahsrau #yanqing #hsr yanqing #argenti #hsr argenti #serval #serval hsr #lynx hsr #hsr blade #i'm not omw to start chaos in my interpretation of sahsr/sahsrau dw #(probably)

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milksnake-tea · 11 months

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Can I request a yandre Nanook and yaoshi and god /aeon reader the reader is like that unknown god in genshin impact that can control time and destiny

What if Nanook had a fascination about this aeon and slowly developing an obsession with them and yaoshi being the same and would bless their devoting followers

to chase destiny.

characters: nanook, yaoshi

contains: YANDERE CHARAS, obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, brainwashing(?), unhealthy relationships, power dynamics(?), vaguely religious language (nothing heavy, it comes with the aeons stuff lol)

a/n: mmmmm yandere aeons <333 love that for them. ngl i kinda forgot about the time part so this is primarily focused on the destiny part so yahoo!

...follows you like an incessant plague. Wherever you go, wherever you may run, they and their Antimatter Legion follow, bringing destruction and devastation with them.

Nanook first met you in the early days of their existence as an Aeon. Back then, they were but a young one, still weak in the eyes of the others. Back then, they saw you as another obstacle in their Path, another nuisance.

But then, in a clash between you two, Nanook witnessed your abilities for the first time. In the midst of a Legion invasion, a battle that was sure to end in the destruction of another planet, you managed to turn the tide. Your hands weaved a different path, a path that destroyed Nanook's forces and forced them to retreat.

Just one word from you, and fate was reversed. Just one sweep of your pen, and a losing battle was won.

The image of you that day is forever etched into Nanook's mind, burned into their memory. You, powerful, beautiful, and the cold glare of your eyes as you met their gaze. You, the weaver of fate itself.

You were the key to purifying the world of the cancer of civilization. You were the missing piece they never knew they needed. With your power, Nanook could create a perfect, clean world.

They would like nothing more other than to take you away for themself, to lock you away in a separate realm from the rest. But alas, you are older, stronger than they were.

But Nanook wasn't one to give up. As the Aeon of Destruction, they have many other Aeons as enemies, such as Xipe or Yaoshi. They knew how to get their way, even if they would have to fight tooth and claw for it.

And so they follow you. They stalk you throughout the galaxies, chasing you much like the Hunt would. Any planet that has the misfortune to garner even the slightest glance from you is reduced to rubble, for Nanook despises the mere idea of your attention being on anything other than them.

The person they hate the most is Elio, the seer that you've seemingly blessed with your favor. If it weren't for your protection, Nanook would've killed him - blessing him with a long, torturous, drawn-out death with you as their audience.

But it's fine in the end. In the end, Nanook will have their way. They will take you, no matter what it takes. And when they finally do, only then can an untainted world be made.

You may claim to change destiny, but Nanook knows that the future can be changed by those with enough ambition, enough drive.

They isolate you, crushing both the people and the worlds you love. They whisper in your mind of how the greed and hubris of civilization weren't worth saving, and show you only the ugliest parts of humanity. Their words cloud and befuddle your mind with distrust, fear, and abhorrence towards the sentient species.

Soon, your loom of fate becomes tangled in their hands, and Nanook is the one who pulls the strings. They are the only one you can trust, clean from ugliness and impurity. They are all you need. And in return for your power, they offer a faux love.

You watch from within their embrace as the universe crumbles into nothing, watch as countries and planets collapse.

This is how things should be, they whisper, feeling nothing in their heart as they hold you. This is the right way of the world.

And you believe them.

...is an insufferable thorn in your side. Yaoshi yearns for a paradise free from suffering and despair, a paradise that wouldn't be complete without you.

Ever since the day they saw you, they've known. Their heart that loved each and every being in the universe, bloomed for you, longed for you.

They weren't sure just what had attracted them to you so badly, but Yaoshi didn't think they needed to. There was never a need for a reason to love, was there?

Every day, every hour, without fail, Yaoshi clings to your side. You could try to foresee their movements, forcing them away from you, but even you were not free from the cruelty of fate. Yaoshi would always find you, arms open for an embrace as they fill your space with promises and sweet words.

Let us make a paradise together, they'd propose, taking you into their arms as they coo into your ear, caressing your arms with their fingers. Think of what we could do, what we could bring to the galaxies.

Yaoshi is convinced that you were meant to be theirs, the gateway to a world ridden of death and disease. With your power alongside theirs, no one would have to suffer any longer.

The only problem was that you were a little stubborn. No matter, for Yaoshi was patient. They knew you wanted to bring salvation to the universe alongside them, you were just a bit scared of venturing outside your script.

Yaoshi wears you down bit by bit. First, they guilt trip you. They lament over the pitiful mortals, succumbing to disease and war. Perhaps if you had taken them up on their offer, those mortals would be alive and happy right now. They remind you about the lives you could've saved. Yaoshi never outright says it, but you know that subtly, they call you selfish for ignoring the plight of the weak.

Then, they gain the favor of your followers. They bless your devotees with immortality, curing them of any disease or injury they may come across. They coddle and care for them, so that even when Yaoshi isn't physically by your side, your followers who sing them praises constantly remind you of them.

It's even worse when Yaoshi is present. As your followers gush about your so-called love, a love you don't ever recall partaking in, Yaoshi preens at your side, holding onto your arm as a noble lady would her lover.

And as they do, they whisper into your ears, crooning like a venomous snake.

Play along, they murmur, playing with your hair as they kiss your temple. You don't want to disappoint them, do you?

And so you do. You play the role of lover to Yaoshi, forced to give up your pen and your being to the Abundance.

Even though you know of the despair that would eventually come of immortality, you are powerless to stop it, lest you face the scorn of your people.

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ddarker-dreams · 8 months

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Nexus V.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, codependency o'clock, implied/mentioned not SFW, coercion and mommy issues. Word count: 10.1k.

Nexus index.

Time is a way to measure reality.

It allows the woefully inadequate mind of a sentient being to process a sliver of something greater. The senses are a sieve that retains what little they can of the universe’s riptide. Considering this, it’s no wonder the Aeons tend to keep to themselves. How long would you entertain the whims of a speck of dust? You’d gain nothing from it. The dust cannot understand, it lacks the means to properly perceive you. It simply wishes to find a nice, comfortable spot to occupy its days. It can loathe, revere, or fear you, it matters not; for in the end, it’s nothing but a speck of dust.

So why do the Aeons occasionally make themselves known? What do they stand to gain? Further power, enlightenment, entertainment?

They should’ve just kept wading through the stellar sea.

Specks of dust shouldn’t be allowed to wield even an ounce of their power.

All it does is let them destroy themselves and others in new, horrific ways.

The white rings around your mother’s pupils shine.

She subjects Kafka and Blade to concurrent curses. Cutting, snipping, trimming; their psyches are flayed one layer at a time. How she does so rivals a butcher preparing a tender cut more than a doctor performing a delicate surgery. Inky blots propagate along Blade’s vision. From this limited perspective, you can’t determine Kafka’s condition. Not that it would matter, you can barely comprehend what Blade’s going through.

Mother has to be forming a link, right?

Ideally, both parties consent to a link’s formation. This grants stability and lowers the chances of complications. An unwelcome link is treated with the same hostility as an immune system that’s noticed a germ. It’s sought out, identified, then exterminated. The host may suffer malaise for a time, but if their body is in working order, the problem will sort itself out.

There has to be more to this, you surmise. Mom, please, don’t let this be the end. You can’t. Not you.

The disease inflicted on Blade metastasizes; Kafka is likely facing a similar predicament. Memories swarm around him like locusts, buzzing and biting.

The Zhuming is the womb from which divine weapons are born. It is the warden to the subdued Flint Emperor, whose flames once burned hot enough to rival the stars. These flames will one day exterminate the rampant borisin, the young boy is certain. Whether it be in his lifetime or not doesn’t matter. No child deserves to be made an orphan. He can’t undo what’s been done to him, but he can help prevent it from happening to others.

“If you believe you are up to the task, I will take you on as my apprentice. What you do with the knowledge I impart is your decision.”

This Foxian lady sent to retrieve support for the fight against the borisin loves to chat. There’s rarely an instance where a grin can’t be found on her face, wide enough that her eyes must squish to accommodate her exuberance.

“Just focus on what you want to do, and let fate take its course."

Those who belong to the short-life species cannot grasp a nebulous concept such as ‘fate.’ This sentiment is commonly found among his fellow Artisanship Commission members. It doesn’t deter him — if anything, his resolve is strengthened. His life won’t be as long as theirs, but it will burn hot and bright before it extinguishes.

“The borisins must pay the price for their evil.”

One day, a lady with long, silver hair, who has conquered the moon and brought it to heel, approaches him. The air around here is crisp, contrasting the sweltering air of the Zhuming. She reminds him of the winters he experienced on his home planet. He had forgotten how frost stings.

“A talent such as yours shouldn’t be left to drown amidst a mediocre sea. After this visit, I’m bound for the Loufu. A seat will be made available for you. Come and reach your full potential, or, languish here where your accolades will fade from history’s recollection.”

The Shard Sword, Starfall Reverie, Cloud-Piercer, and Baiheng’s recurve bow were no longer what he treasured most. Those monumental accomplishments don’t enrich lives, it ends them. Standing here, where the ocean’s blue is more brilliant than the artificial sky, is where he’s found something akin to peace. The Scalegorge Waterscape has become a gathering place for friends. Laughter, sparring, and the burning of liquor are shared beneath the moon’s watchful eye.

He raises a cup to his lips and silently wishes this joy could last forever.

“Do you remember?”

This voice interrogated him unceasingly for answers they both knew he couldn’t give. Again and again, he’d undergo a punishment disguised as a lesson. Frost didn’t just sting, it imparted necrosis, yet what is decomposition to an immortal but a joke? Again and again, his flesh would be pierced, organs punctured with expert execution. His body wasn’t allowed the privilege to rot.

Again and again, he’d be swallowed by death, only to be spat back up, as it’s unable to digest him.

"Listen, I can always kill you again, otherwise I can't bring you back."

What he thought to be prey standing in his way turned out to be apex predators. A woman who could render him useless with her words alone and a suit of armor that reflected the sun in his weary eyes. He had to get his fill of death before considering her offer. It sounded too good to be true, but he was reminded that the universe has enough instruments to perform the threnody he so desperately wishes to hear.

“Having trouble settling on a gift? Hm… I suppose that’s to be expected. Any off-world flora you leave behind will shrivel beneath the planet’s atmosphere, unless it possesses special qualities. It’d be a bad omen to give her a lotus that can wilt. Why not try a different approach?”

He stands solitary on the cragged terrain around the LOTUS-EATER. Though she’ll soon emerge to gaze up at the starless sky, his wait won’t end there. It’ll bleed into the next day, then the day after that, on and on the cycle will spin. Destiny’s Slave promised this vortex would end so long as he remained patient. Once he fully bows down before her, damnation will be her crown. The weight of his burden is to be shared by two.

He considers the iridescent crystals in his bandaged hands.

He thought the joy he found in creation died the same day ▇▇▇▇▇ did.

This emotion’s resurrection, however…

… If it’s a sin, then what’s another addition to his list?

“Listen, Blade, snap out of it.”

The swarm falls silent.

Bright screens, the thrum of the oxygen generator, sterile colors. Kafka towers over him, implying that he’s fallen to the ground. Her complexion lacks its usual glow. While Blade stands, she reaches inside her jacket and pulls out a portable blush. She dusts the rosy powder over her cheeks.

“That was unpleasant,” Kafka sighs. She snaps the container shut. “I guess that’s to be expected from one of Noct’s Emanators. It seems you bore the brunt of it, though.”

Mom, an Emanator? You think. Maybe… maybe that means she had a chance to get away. This was a diversion that she used to go into hiding. Faking a corpse is within their skillset, Silver Wolf can hack reality itself. I only looked at it long enough to confirm her identity.

Blade places a hand on his throbbing head and grimaces. His vision alternates between different degrees of blurriness. Kafka’s positioned in front of him, which prevents you from seeing the area your mother occupied. You pray to anything that might listen for her to fucking move already.

“That trip down memory lane was a red herring,” Kafka says. “She bought herself enough time to complete her real objective.”

Even Kafka thinks so!

Instead of explaining further, she leisurely reaches for her lipstick. Your frustration boils over. You aren’t the only one feeling impatient. Blade hasn’t uttered a word, but his typical apathy ebbs and flows irregularly. Kafka hums a tune as she smears the rouge pigment along her puckered lips. This whimsical attitude shows no signs of tapering off.

Blade exhales sharply, belying his annoyance. He’s near his limit as well.

Kafka clicks her tongue. “Don’t be so impatient, you two. I’m dolling myself up.”

…‘You two?’

“Yes. Now, let me assess the damage,” Kafka switches from looking at Blade to inspecting his psyche. She gasps, playing the role of a melodramatic damsel perfectly. “Oh my. Ania did a number on you.”

This woman is insufferable, always playing coy. I swear, the next time I see her—

“Your memories of [First] Phaeales, the visceral emotions she stirs up in you; they’re growing fuzzier by the second, I presume? In an hour or so, they’ll be gone altogether. Hmm… ‘gone’ might not be the best word to describe it. Sealed away might be more appropriate.”

A premonition too cruel to put into words coils around you.

No, no, no.

“Can you fix it?” Blade strains. The hypothetical Kafka suggested encourages his mara to writhe and hiss in dissatisfaction. It crawls around his head, murmurs near his cochlea in a scratchy voice, demanding a quick fix. To be deprived of you is unacceptable, it insists. This sentencing must be overturned. It wants you, needs you and will destroy anything to have you. Himself included.

Pandemonium wreaks havoc inside his head, it’s like he barely exists. The warring influences rip away as if drawing and quartering him.

“I can’t, no. It’s beyond my abilities,” Kafka’s smile is all teeth. “Fortunately, I do know of someone who can undo it.”

His mara hushes so it may hear her out.

“Contact them,” he snaps.

“You’d get all bashful if I did. Besides, I don’t think she’d do a very thorough job if she knew the context.”

Kafka stares Blade in the eye and tilts her head like she’s posing for the camera. “Isn’t that right, Miss Phaeales?”

You think you might be living in a nightmare.

Please, no…

Blade’s heart lurches inside his chest at your mention.

“Listen, Bladie. Until [First] Phaeales undoes her mother’s seal, you’ll be unable to remember the past twenty-four hours. The second the seal is undone, this memory, on June 8th, 2153 AE, starting from Eris’ local time of 0223 and concluding at 0214, will resurface in your consciousness. It will play for her so she’s fully caught up.”

How could something this awful… ever happen…?

The edges of the memory fade and curl inward like burning paper.

“I’ll throw in some advice, just for you, sweetie. He’s bound to get tongue-tied around you, so remember to be patient,” Kafka’s suggestion is muffled. “Oh, and another thing. You might want to get a headstart while you can.”

…

You can’t breathe.

The room performs for you, rippling side to side, hypnotizing as a pocket watch. A white blur whirrs by. Clink, clink, clink, it crashes, spurting its innards in a splatter of red and glimmering gold. The sound itself seems delayed, echoing a moment too late. It isn’t in time with the opal shards that scatter like teeth along the polished floor. The deluge is offbeat, dissonant, yet the song continues.

You can’t breathe.

The percussion is ousted, making way for the woodwind section. The flutes raise and raise in pitch. This tocsin sounds shrill and consistent, stabbing your eardrums, and vibrating your bones. Dizziness makes for a distracting audience member, its dry, unblinking eyes landing on you. It opens its maw impossibly wide, tearing the tendons around its cracked lips, and swallows your head. For some reason, it cannot go past your neck, so it contents itself with gorging on your cranium like it’s sucking candy.

You can’t breathe.

There’s something living inside your throat. A parasite, leech, or slug, maybe. It wriggles back up whenever you try swallowing, like jello on a wobbling plate. The tiny hairs along its gelatinous body tickle your esophagus. You’re always on the precipice of choking, but not quite. It delights in the warm and moist cavern you’ve provided.

You can’t die because it wants more from you.

You can’t be reduced to a husk because your vitality sustains it.

You can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe—

Something awful touches your skin and you want to burn the residue it leaves behind.

“[First].”

You scramble back until your spine hits a cold, solid surface. A hand retracts.

What is this thing before you? It’s tall and has eyes like vats of blood. You see your reflection held captive inside the crimson miasma. The woman it shows resembles you in some ways and doesn’t in others. She looks afraid. Sickly. Lost somewhere between the junction of life and death. Traipsing, testing the fraying line’s integrity. One wrong step guarantees a plummet to inconceivable depths.

“[First].”

“Don’t,” you rasp, your voice wobbling like a transmission with a poor signal, “Don’t you fucking dare come near me!”

He listens. For now, at least. You’d be a fool to mistake stalling for surrender. You press your back into the wall hard enough to ache. The enclosed space seemingly shrinks around you. You press a trembling hand over your heart, feeling how it hammers against your chest cavity. The room’s air is stifling. Your sympathetic nervous system can’t decide its course of action. Should the little oxygen you’re inhaling go to your brain or your heart? Delegation is a tricky endeavor.

Blade’s gaze eats you alive.

He’s starving and you’re the only thing that can fill him.

The manifestation of his mara frightened you less.

Mom, what have I done? What can I do?

“You should sit,” he says. You want to rip his vocal cords to shreds. “There’s nowhere to run and you know better than to fight.”

As if he had to remind you.

The Shard Sword. So that’s the name of the terror he wields? You’ve read about it in history books, there are entire chapters dedicated to the High-Cloud Quintet’s exploits. Even if he were unarmed, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Any flesh wound will heal, any organ will stitch itself back together, and any death will be a temporary visit he’ll saunter back from.

Blade takes a step closer.

How do you get out of this? How do you get him to stop? What would get him to stop?

What could he possibly want more than you?

Oh.

The answer unfurls like a body bag.

… There is one more thing, isn’t there?

You thread your psyches together with a thin string. It’s too weak in its present state, the weight of your goal will make it snap instantly. You need to fortify it as best as you can. Otherwise, there is no place you can go where he won’t find you. The prismatic shards that record his history are no longer indecipherable, each moment is visible to you, forming a macabre mosaic.

The second you finalize this link, he’ll know. Your touch isn’t a stranger to his mind anymore. Nothing about you is.

You recall the shattered opal goblet a few feet away.

You let your knees buckle like they’ve desired all along. You fall toward the jagged shards and you brace yourself. It happens as swiftly as you expected — his inhuman speed allows him to catch you easily. He steadies you against him, holding you up since the strength leaving your body wasn’t an act.

Your hand brushes over a sliver of his skin.

You wanted me to show you what it’s like to die, you think. It isn’t beyond my means at all, Yingxing!

The Synalink is a success.

He might want you, but his longing for a permanent death eclipses that.

This is a scenario unlike any you’ve ever built before. The dimensions are simple, you’re creating one static scene. It isn’t a vast galaxy with trade, economies, and conflicting ideals, teeming with planets that house millions of individuals who each have their own role in the story to play. Grass doesn’t have to blow just right, there aren’t bystanders whose conversations you need to generate and perform maintenance on.

The stage you’ve built is, at its core, nothing. A vacuum you’ve molded into a cube and placed him in the middle of.

You’ve cut off stimuli to each of his senses. He can’t perceive anything, because there’s nothing to perceive.

His psyche shows no signs of resistance. This is what he wants, isn’t it? Total absolution. The loss of self, to be undone and woven into the universe’s indifferent tapestry. Every factor has aligned in your favor like a once-in-a-millennium syzygy. Your newfound knowledge of his past, his most innate desire being death, then the amplification physical touch brings.

This isn’t an unknown pathogen, it’s a welcome salvation.

You just have to maintain it.

Your main hurdle is finding a way to do so while navigating the physical world. The slightest deviation could have catastrophic consequences, his acumen is that competent. How long can you sustain this Synalink if you don’t dedicate your entire attention to it? There’s no point of reference. For all you know, it could be impossible.

Regardless, you have to try.

Reopening your corporeal eyes, you find yourself in the private room.

The Stellaron Hunter, who uses the alias ‘Blade,’ stands behind you like a cocked gun.

He isn’t moving. The white rings in his eyes match yours. His vitals are consistent with what you see in clients immersed in Synalinks. Low respiration and heartbeat, and the paralysis of limbs so as to deter unwanted motor functions.

You hold your breath, shimmy out of his loosened grasp, and then cautiously take a step back.

Your heels crunch down on a stray fragment from the broken goblet. You cringe.

You expect the worst when you gather the courage to look at him again.

Still nothing.

Keeping your back against the wall, you awkwardly slide toward the door leading to The Lounge.

The burning question of what to do next sears your mind. You have no faith or trust in Chrysus. There’s Caicias, but he’s in Mele. The fastest nectar guide would still take two hours, factoring in the repairs being done to the one in Thelx. Even if he did make it here, what could he do? Help you negotiate? Would Blade even give him the chance? You’d be condemning the elder quadrant leader to certain death.

Who is in your star system? You’ve heard that the Astral Express has had run-ins with the Stellaron Hunters, but they could be millions of light-years away. Then there’s Kafka. If she goes too long without hearing from Blade, she won’t just sit around and let you scheme. Silver Wolf could hack into the LOTUS-EATER’s surveillance system or use thermal imaging to gauge the situation.

The price of hope is too steep.

Your fingers grope blindly for the door’s switch. You refuse to take your attention off Blade for a split second. You feel a protrusion, start to flick it up—

Sparks fly from the wall like frantic fireflies, joined by chunks of dark debris. Strands of your hair blow aside as if subject to a wicked gale. Sediment scratches at your skin. Out of instinct, your eyes squeeze shut, shielding you from what they can. A figure towers above you. You can’t see him, but you can feel him. The torment, bloodlust, and yearning are so prevalent that they may as well be in the room alongside you.

Through a looking glass, you saw the reflections of a wretched life.

How he fell victim to a friend unwilling to accept a comrade’s untimely demise. That for this incursion, death would never grant him permanent residency. Over a thousand times, a swordmaster gripped by madness tested this ordinance, her strikes colder than winter’s wrath.

He’d lose a piece of himself each time, leaving a mangled afterimage of what he once was.

A sinner rendered mara-struck and immortal — a shade that will dye you his accursed color.

Blade pins your wrists above your head. It hurts, but you’ve learned there’s pain worse than this.

“Open your eyes.”

It isn’t a request.

You hesitate for as long as he allows. Ultimately, you have no choice but to give him what he wants. Scarlet eyes reward your reluctant obedience. Leering, glowing. Your chest heaves beneath the burden of each breath. Something wet and warm trickles down your cheek. It titillates the flames of his mara as if it’d been lathered in oil. He shackles your wrists with his gloved hand and drags the other downward. Over your temple, cheekbone, then finally, your chin.

He tilts your head up.

Neither of you speak.

How? How did he break free?

You didn’t sense any fluctuations, nothing that’d warn of your incoming fate. Your control didn’t slip, it was pulled out right from underneath you.

Isn’t death what every segment of his psyche seeks? His rationality, morality, and base instincts were all in agreement, a unanimous jury that didn’t require deliberation.

What unforeseen note upset this triad?

Your reflection in his eyes is drenched in red.

“Haha… seriously?” You laugh a humorless laugh. “Me?”

Blade doesn’t respond. You don’t know if he heard you. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He is the author of whatever happens next.

A butterfly with injured wings loses none of its original beauty. If anything, it’s made easier to admire, now that it can no longer fly away. You have nowhere to go, nothing to do, and not a word to say that’d make a difference. This futility reassures his mara. That which was held above its head has been made to crawl along the ground. Blade seizes total control of himself as his mara slinks away. Cognizant of his bruising grip, he releases you. Without his crushing support, you collapse like a house of cards. Your knees hit the ground.

You sink down further and squeeze your head in between your hands.

It hurts, mom, it hurts. Why couldn’t you give me up one more time? ‘My’ life never belonged to me in the first place, anyway. You should’ve granted the shift in ownership when it was still a choice.

… I’m scared.

There is no getting out of this, is there?

Metal clinks by your side. Dazedly, you inspect the sound’s source. A silver dagger rests beside you. It’s small in build, yet pointed as a weapon should be. Your attention flitters between him and the blade. What is this? A pitiful attempt to level the playing field? Has he not humiliated you enough? Taken everything that wasn’t yours to give?

Sensing your confusion, he explains, “Sins should be punished.”

You grasp the hilt.

It’s heavy.

“What… are you even saying…?” You murmur. Is he referring to your mother? “It’s ‘permissible’ to take life, according to you.”

You recount his creed with the venom it merits.

He falls silent.

“Not yours… not for free,” he drawls. “I’ll pay any price.”

Transactions benefit both parties. What’s there for him to gain?

You stand on unsteady legs.

Blade’s countenance is an impenetrable fortress. The violent waves have settled, leaving still, murky waters. Is it twisted affection swirling in his gaze? Guilt? The celebration of a long-fought battle? You don’t know. You don’t know what to think, feel, or do. You’re just numb. What will you be after this? Your mother likened their designs for you to a ‘retractable leash.’ Close, but not quite.

You’ll be more of a portable oxygen tank.

Kafka can’t always be there to soothe Blade’s mara, but you can. You will. You have to. It’s a duty that binds more than marriage.

If transactions benefit both parties, then…

What he’s offering to pay for here is you.

Your eyes drop down to the dagger.

The currency will be blood and flesh. He’ll let you kill him, however you want, for as long as you want. Ten, one hundred, one thousand times or beyond, until you feel the scales have balanced. The blank canvas has given you the tools to create your final masterpiece. Once the paint dries, the roles will reverse. The subjugated will become the subjugator. It isn’t a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.

You raise the dagger, his cold heart your target. It’s yours. A gift, a burden, an unbreakable vow.

You plunge it down, and—

—He doesn’t even flinch.

The tip of the blade rips his shirt, but not his flesh.

You toss it aside and shake your head.

“Has anything worthwhile… ever come from killing you…?”

Blade doesn’t respond, but you know he heard you.

He furrows his eyebrows, your question hanging over his head. Whatever he expected, this must not have been a possibility he accounted for. Had he been anyone else, he might conflate mercy for forgiveness. He isn’t, though. He knows the crippling weight of guilt. How it secretly imbues you with a craving for more, so you can finally be crushed to death, instead of being forced to roll the boulder onward.

Each slice would be for him as much as it is for you.

If that’s penance to him, you will never grant it.

“My mom…” you trail off, not because you don’t know how to complete the sentence, but because finishing it will finish something inside you. “Is she…?”

Blade’s memories have made their way back to him using you as their bridge. You could parse through them, but you don’t want to. You don’t think he’ll lie. He hasn’t lied to you as far as he knew. The truth is worse and the truth is what you’ll get. The emotions you pick up from him hint at what you already know. They nibble at you as piranhas would. Notably missing from the onslaught is any iteration of guilt or its distant cousin, regret.

He’d die a thousand deaths to pay the fee of having you. What’s a little more bloodshed to someone who views death as enviable?

“Never mind,” you murmur. “Forget I asked.”

He won’t.

He refuses to forget anything about you ever again.

For now, he’ll pretend otherwise.

You’ve decided that from this distance, Eris looks like a marble.

It’s just a little black sphere, infused with the occasional stream of gold. You center the image in between your thumb and pointer finger, making minuscule adjustments until it fits just right. Once you’re content, you hold it there, squinting your left eye so this speck’s the main focus.

As of the latest census in 2155 AE, the planet Eris is thought to have a population of 2,912,840. 560,432 in Ade, 1,510,781 in Mele, an estimated 200,400 in Arc, and 641,227 in your home quadrant of Thelx. Each of those numbers can be attributed to a living, breathing being. Someone with their own family, history, ethics, dreams, and struggles. Your fellow Nymphalians, descendants of prisoners dumped on a dark and frigid planet to die.

You thought you’d given them your life before. In a pretty, metaphorical sense, that could be made into poems for generations.

Your conversation with Destiny’s Slave reassured you that no, there’s nothing pretty or metaphorical about what awaits you. No one will be penning sentimental poems detailing an ascetic’s life led in solitude so that the people may prosper. You’ll be a cold case. For a week, your name will be a hot topic on primetime television. A headline sprawled in large font across news media companies. ‘Tragedy Strikes: Eris’ [First] Phaeales Kidnapped, IPC Implicates Stellaron Hunters,’ or something to that effect.

Then another calamity will occur and you’ll be pushed from the public’s consciousness.

You might get a special mention on anniversaries. The first, fifth, tenth, fiftieth, then the hundredth. Podcasts will do deep dives. Books will be written. Forum boards will swap theories. Who knows? An anonymous user might guess the truth and be labeled a conspiracy theorist for their troubles.

You pinch your thumb and pointer finger together, smushing the faraway planet from your perspective.

“Boom!” You exclaim in a whisper yell. “Is that how easy it is to you?”

He doesn’t respond.

You turn away from the sheet of glass separating you from the limitless depths of outer space.

“The silent treatment, huh?” You muse, drumming your fingers against the window pane. “You saw this future and worked oh so hard to procure it. What? Having second thoughts, now that it’s here? That’d be a shame.”

There’s something ugly living inside your heart. It’s been there since you were born and will remain until you die. Maybe it lives inside everyone, you can’t say, you can only speak for yourself. Kindness isn’t inherent, it’s learned. Practiced so that it may be honed. Otherwise, the steel grows dull and rusts. Sharpening means losing layers of yourself against a whetstone. Those layers are worth losing, you’re told. Spite, vengeance, hatred; they’re all so, so ugly. Little imps that should be sandpapered away.

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, that sort of platitude. It’s nice bumper sticker material. Something to slap on a graphic tee or coffee cup, maybe. To be fair, practicing the antithesis isn’t so simple either.

You don’t want his eye, it’ll grow back.

You don’t want his life, he’ll just be born anew.

You don’t want him, but from now on, he’s all you’ll get.

“Are you curious about the deal I made with Elio?” You probe.

Blade sighs, likely preparing himself for the vitriol you’ll slew his way.

“I don’t need to know.”

“You want to know, though,” you smile thinly. “I could feel you brooding from rooms away. What? Does the thought of me speaking to another man displease you that—”

He rushes forward and lifts you by the collar of your blouse. You don’t waver, if anything, you could get drunk off this emotional outburst. His nostrils flare and you can feel his warm breath fan against your face. Your heart whirrs strong against its bony restraints, adrenaline blasting throughout your system.

“That mouth of yours is testing me,” he chuckles, although he’s far from amused. “Have you forgotten the position you’re in?”

“Have you?” You scoff. His grip tightens. “Go ahead. Choke me, ravish me. You can’t bring yourself to though, can you? Want to know why? Hm? You’re holding out for the slim, impossible chance that I might return your fucked up feelings, even if just a little bit.”

Scornfully, you whisper, “Elio was generous enough to answer some of my questions. The extent of the Stellaron’s influence, the true perpetrators behind the nectar guide bombing, why you’d get so pissy whenever Lear swung by… in retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, really. Messing with the LOTUS-EATER’s noise-canceling software is child’s play for Silver Wolf. Did you enjoy eavesdropping on us? Probably not, huh?”

He growls your name, low and menacingly. It’s a warning.

You ignore him. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you do.

“I never told him,” your lower lip trembles. “Because of you, I’ll never get to, either. You want to pay a price? Have your sins punished? Start by listening to this!”

His mara bubbles up as if it were magma. For someone unraveling from the inside out, he doesn’t look the part. Emotion and vitality have drained from his face. His complexion is that of the dead man he wishes himself to be. Pale, vapid. He wants you to stop, yet the only way you would is if he tore out your tongue. To do so would guarantee he’d never get to hear those three words directed at him. He must consider that fate harrowing indeed if he allows the means for you to utter your next sentence.

The finger you pricked all those years ago tingles.

“Lear is the only one I’ve loved. The only one I’ll ever love. He gave me a life; you’ve destroyed mine. How could you ever compare, Yingxing? How can you even come close?”

You wrench yourself free from Blade’s grasp. He lets you.

His hands remain where you once were. Gradually, they fall, as do his shoulders and head. It’s peculiar. You’ve come to be so in tune with his emotions, picking up on frequencies only you can hear. This pitch falls silent. His mara is too. The infighting over where he should begin and end calls for a temporary cease-fire. Neither madness nor sanity care for victory, their attention has been cast elsewhere, to a more prominent problem.

“It is.”

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

“Earlier, you asked if it’s that easy for me,” he says, plainly. “It is.”

Your system absorbs the implication as well as it would cyanide.

“Eris and all of its inhabitants are strictly off-limits. I figured you'd already heard this.”

“I have.”

“Then—”

“It’s not loyalty that ties the Stellaron Hunters together,” he interrupts. “It’s the pursuit of individual goals which just happen to align.”

Blade saunters forward. You bristle, awaiting unwanted physical contact, yet he brushes by your shoulder. His footsteps echo throughout the ship’s hollow corridors. You pivot, intent on following his every movement. He gazes out the window, your home planet his point of interest. The little black and gold marble orbited by four moons, far away from any star.

“Goals change, lotus.”

His eyes find yours in the window’s reflection.

He’s bluffing. He has to be.

“You’ve sought death for over 700 years,” is your uneasy reply. “Surely, you wouldn’t risk the one avenue you have to reach it.”

“Didn’t I already betray that expectation of yours?”

Death is no longer what every segment of his psyche seeks, as it’s the one place he can’t have you.

“... You’ve stopped running your mouth. Clever girl,” Blade flexes his fists by his side. The leather glove on his hand creaks as he does so. “If you think this an empty threat, I have a suggestion.”

Blade grins from ear to ear.

“Repeat any of what you just said to me and I’ll prove it isn’t.”

It’s as if his mara forms tendrils that slowly slither up your body. It caresses your thighs, your midriff, and your chest. Breathes against your nape and coils around your neck. You can’t find the strength to move. It wishes you would so that it’d have an excuse to hold you tighter. Squeeze harder. Sink into you deeper.

You glower at him. His mara keens, finding the expression delightful.

“Look at me like that any longer and I’ll take you up on your suggestion.”

You pinch your eyebrows together, belying your confusion.

He wets his lips with his tongue.

“‘Choke me, ravish me,’ was it?” he muses, chuckling breathlessly. “Who am I to deny such a tempting offer?”

Finally, you muster the effort necessary to break free from his hypnotic stare. You’re overcome with the need to scrub off every part of your skin he’s touched. You want the residue gone, purged from your flesh. Nausea floods you like a broken dam.

You let him touch you, you let him kiss you, you let him fuck you.

He can’t have anything else.

You don’t know what more there is to take.

His eyes are heavy on your back as you leave the room. This spaceship’s decently big, but it’s not enough. A universe could separate you, but it still wouldn’t suffice. You’ll create any gap you can, illusionary or otherwise. You speed through the ship’s main corridor until you near what’s to be your room. Before you can open it, your hand stills.

Elio said we’re to leave on a job the second Silver Wolf starts distracting the IPC’s blockade, you think. That should be any minute now.

Your blood freezes over.

After this ship makes the jump, you’ll never see Eris again.

Or Nona.

Or Lear.

Will Nona continue to pursue her studies without you there to teach her? Is there a reason for her to? She’s come so far since you first met. That harsh, untrusting girl with a permanent scowl blossomed into something truly special.

“Seriously? You’re supposed to be my mentor?”

“Alright, lemme set one thing straight. I’m here to save up enough to leave this shithole. If that hurts your feelings, go and cry to mommy about it, I couldn’t care less. It’ll be bad press to ship your latest Arc rescue back over, after all.”

“Why do you care about this planet, anyway? Beyond whatever sense of purpose you get from playing the hero, I mean. All anyone here ever does is complain and half-ass things. ‘Let’s give anarchy a shot guys, but like, a nice version of anarchy, where we all hold hands around a campfire and sing songs.’ It’s hilarious.”

“The first time I made it to Thelx’s border as a kid, I thought I was hallucinating. I asked my older travel buddy, ‘What’s with these tiny, floating yellow spheres?’ She didn’t even spare me a glance, she was so enchanted. ‘That’s light,’ she said. ‘Take a good, long look. You won’t be seeing much of it.’ I remember how angry hearing that made me. Not just what she was saying, but how she said it. Like she’d given up. Like that was acceptable.”

“A cargo ship bound for Rosiz is heading out in three cycles. You and Lear could come with me, y’know. Elope, or whatever. My contact would allow it. Probably. Hey, don’t give me an answer right away. Geez. At least think about it.”

“Yep, I’m still here. Surprise! My other plans fell through, what can I say? Apparently, Rosiz is run by a weird blood cult. I don’t want anything to do with that. Guess you’re stuck with me a while longer. What’s with that look? Yeah, I still think this planet’s a shithole. But, you’re here, so… it’s 5% less shitty, give or take. Lear brings that up to a whopping 15%. Yes, he gets a value of ten. Have you tasted his cooking?”

Will Lear ever know how much it meant when he comforted the haughty and naive girl you once were? How without him, all you ever would’ve known was loneliness? You were a handful, there’s no doubting that. It’s a miracle he put up with you.

He had the softest voice when you were kids.

“I’m supposed to play the princess? But… but… I’m a boy, and you’re a girl… so shouldn’t you…? Ow, ow, stop pinching! Okay, okay! I’ll be the princess! Eh? Whaddya mean ‘you’ll kiss it better?’ Miss Phaeales? Miss Phaeales…?!?!?!”

“I’m back from work, my wife. Huh? Husbands don’t say that? No no no no, you can’t play the husband, I have to play the husband! Lemme try again! Ahem. From work, I have returned… woman… I’ve married. That’s no good either? This is so complicated!”

“I dunno why you like Connect Four so much. I mean, we could play Monopoly, but you always steal credits when I look away. No, that's not allowed! … You’re just ‘being a capitalist?’ What’s that mean? Cheater, or something?”

He didn’t lose this soft quality when he became an adult — his tenderness was the air you breathed.

“‘What do I want,’ huh? Where do I begin? To be a part of you, I guess? Ah, if I’d known you were going to grin like that, I wouldn’t have said anything. W-Well, of course I want you. I just don’t think the phrasing’s right. You’ve always viewed yourself as a commodity. I don’t want to reinforce such a terrible thought.”

“It’s… so good, so warm, so… fuck, please, don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe… that I get to do this with you. You’re beautiful, you’re everything…! I’ve always loved you so much. So, so much. Is this okay? Is it really okay? If it is, then please, let me pleasure you.”

“Quit messing around with me already. There’s no way that was your first time. Because, I mean, you’re so sought after, y’know? You must’ve had tons of opportunities to— ow ow ow, again with the pinching?! Alright, I get it, I get it! Pfft, stop, don’t make it weird. Okay, fine, hearing that does make me a little happy. Aaand there you go, making it weird. No, I’m not possessive. You said you don’t like possessive men, so… what? Of course I remembered that. I remember everything you say. Wait… are you embarrassed? I didn’t… didn’t think that was possible… one sec, lemme get my camera…”

You swore an oath not to cry.

You didn’t when packing the few items Blade approved of, or when you negotiated with Elio.

It’s not that you don’t want to. Should your resolve slip for a second, you grow dangerously close to drowning in a puddle of your own tears. There’s plenty to cry about, plenty to mourn. Once you start, though, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop. You’ll waste away as your body’s wrung for all its worth. Should that happen, you won’t be able to uphold your end of the bargain with Elio.

There’ll be a lot more to cry about then.

For this reason, you don’t turn back.

Your deal with Destiny’s Slave consists of two elements.

First, you are to serve as Blade’s ‘field partner,’ offering him your unremitted support however he sees fit. And second, you pledge the full extent of your psionic abilities to further the Stellaron Hunters’ mission. This second condition perplexed you, but it wasn’t like you had many bargaining chips. For so long as you cooperate, Eris will remain unharmed and the nascent Stellaron neutralized.

Kafka had called to ‘celebrate your inauguration.’ You braced yourself for the worst, but she was surprisingly amicable.

“Have you really never considered your utility outside of parlor tricks?” She wondered. “The power to create fantasias and read memories certainly has its uses, no?”

“I just don’t see how it’d contribute much,” you replied.

“If it stopped there, maybe. Should you be able to replicate Ania Phaeales’ seals, though… that’d come in handy.”

You gritted your teeth and read between the lines. They want that too, huh?

You’ve since worked tirelessly to understand how such an anomaly is possible, much less replicable. Silver Wolf provided an updated version of the Arbiter training software to aid your endeavors. You’ve tried and failed hundreds of times. Deleting fragments of a person’s psyche has disastrous results, as you once hypothesized. If the Stellaron Hunters wanted a foe lobotomized, they wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of obtaining you.

The holographic screen floating before you presents an error message.

‘Generated psyche #643, Garçia Chamora, has been rendered comatose from suffering damage to his cerebral hemispheres. Press here or say next to generate a new psyche.’

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

This job on Rosiz requires a nobleman’s lifelong fealty to be sealed, you think. If I can’t figure this out before then…

Your stomach jumps to your throat like you’re in a free fall.

Leaning back in your chair, you swipe the screen away. You look at the digital clock in the ship’s common room. It reads 2:05 a.m. This shift to a twenty-four-hour time has been a pain, but you think this number means it’s late. While glancing around the uninspired decor, your eyes land on a solitary figure.

Blade sits on a beige couch with his arms and legs crossed, his eyelids shut. You assume he’s asleep. There are plenty of comfortable beds he could veg out on, but wherever you are, he isn’t far behind. You don’t get why he’s playing prison warden. He can’t think you’re stupid enough to try escaping with almost three million lives dangling over your head, can he? Perhaps he’s getting off on your suffering.

Whatever the case, you loathe having to breathe the same air as him. You wish he’d fuck off already.

You’ve barely spoken to one another since he made his threat. If it has to do with the upcoming job, you’ll give a few curt words and nothing more. He’s never been outgoing, so without you initiating conversation, hours trudge by in tense silence. You’ve recently made the unfortunate realization his input on your mother’s seal would be useful. He was under it for two years, there must be some information you can glean from him. You need anything you can get.

The thought of asking him for assistance, though… it makes you sick.

“What?” he asks, his voice gravelly from unuse.

You tense. He could tell you were looking at him without opening his eyes?

“Nothing,” you reply.

He grunts and that’s the end of it. You pull the holographic screen back up, eager to distract yourself. Except, all you can focus on is the #643 in the bottom left corner. You’ve already made that many attempts without any progress? One of Kafka’s contacts is going to help sneak this ship onto Rosiz in two days. You’re running out of time.

You spare Blade a quick glance. Unsurprisingly, he hasn’t moved.

Every muscle in your face scrunches up as if you’d bitten a lemon.

Just get it over with, you tell yourself.

“Blade?”

He makes a noise to prove he heard you.

“Can I… ask you a few questions?”

“That depends on what they are.”

You exhale shakily. “When your memories of me were sealed away, what did it feel like?”

His mara murmurs, discontent at this reminder. He appears outwardly unaffected.

“Why do you want to know?”

You play with your skirt’s hem, picking at a loose thread. This is what you were afraid of.

“Knowing will help me understand and replicate the seal better,” you explain. Then, you hastily add, “For the job.”

All is silent. You shift in your seat.

“That isn’t my concern,” is his eventual answer.

Your jaw drops. “Wh— are you serious? You wouldn’t want to botch a job, would you?”

“It wouldn’t be me ‘botching’ it,” Blade says, coolly, evenly. “It would be you.”

You gnash your teeth together but bite your tongue. As callous as he’s acting, he isn’t wrong. He doesn’t owe you anything. Especially after you said what may have been the worst combination of words to him. You refuse to regret it, but you can follow the cause and effect.

“You really don’t care about what’d happen?” You press, breathless. “Eris is my home. You lived there for months yourself, experienced the culture… does that mean nothing?”

“Why do you ask questions you know you won’t like the answers to?”

Blade hasn’t so much as opened his eyes. You just don’t get it — you’ve peered inside his mind multiple times and still struggle to understand him. To what extent does he care about you, if that word even applies here? Does it stop at your physical well-being? Can his current nonchalance be attributed to your diatribe, or would he have acted this way regardless? He doesn’t make sense. He’s an enigma.

You decide to try another approach.

“What about Nona? You’d still feel nothing then?”

Finally, he opens his eyes. The warm hues feel cold.

“I hold no ill will toward your student. I’d consider it a shame,” he says. Despite his impersonal word choice, he isn’t being sarcastic. That must mean something. Before you can expand on this, he smiles. It’s far from kind. “I see you’ve omitted your boyfriend from this thought exercise. A wise choice.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Ah, fuck.

“A word of advice, girl. Manipulation isn’t your forte.”

It feels like a struggle between life and death to maintain eye contact.

“Negotiation, though, you’re half-decent at,” Blade muses. He inclines his head to the side. “Well? Make me an offer.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. What do you have to offer? In a business setting, you can lowball some figures, that’s how everyone starts. You doubt he’s interested in money or stocks. There’s your Synalink ability, but there’s no way he’ll put himself in a vulnerable position like that again. Everything’s been taken from you. Your business, assets, connections, leverage; all you have are the clothes on your back. Still, if he’s entertaining this conversation, there must be something.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin. “Are you… propositioning me?”

“Oh? That’s how you’ve chosen to interpret it?” he raises an eyebrow. “If that’s your offer, I accept.”

“No, I’m not—!”

“I know. Calm down,” he interrupts your panicked exclamation. “You’re easily rattled when exhausted.”

Your heart’s pounding so loud in your ears that it’s difficult to hear him.

“Relax. The next time I take you, I want you willing.”

The next time? Is he delusional? Has he suffered long-term memory loss? You’d sooner saw off your hand than sleep with him ever again. You come dangerously close to voicing this, but ultimately decide against it. You need him in an agreeable mood. This seal — have you been set up for failure? You can’t imagine why they’d bother. Still, there’s no singular script, as per Elio’s own admission. It’s a string of possibilities loosely connected by little choices. If one script isn’t followed, that means another has taken center stage.

Should you be unable to deliver, that future has been accounted for as well.

It’s a future that can’t come to pass.

Blade speaks your name.

“Come over here,” he says.

Your eyes widen and lips part, horror painting itself across your countenance.

He clicks his tongue. “Trust your own intuition. You said it yourself, didn’t you? That I’m ‘holding out.’”

You fight the urge to wince at the quotation. He’s the one who mentioned it, not you. This can’t count as an infraction on your behalf. Taking a deep breath, you start trekking over, counting each step. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen… ah, it didn’t take anywhere near long enough.

He pats the spot beside him. Once you’re situated, an arm coils around your shoulders, tugging you into his side. Your heart thumps away. This is reminiscent of the evenings you spent together in your office and on the balcony. The high you received from sex would fade away, replaced by this nice, soft haze. Talkative as you were then, there was something about those moments that kept you quiet. You’re not sure why.

Maybe it’s because you realized you’d finally met someone lonelier than yourself.

“You’ve hardly eaten or slept. That I can understand,” Blade says. “What I don’t get, however, is why you haven’t cried.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re often on the verge of tears. Like now, for instance,” he points out. You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat. “Why not let it go?”

Something already broken in you shatters beyond recognition.

“What good would that do?!”

Your fingernails dig into your palms hard enough to bruise the sensitive flesh.

“I’m nothing, I-I have nothing, I’m—” you laugh and laugh, making your throat feel scratchier than it already is. “I wanted to do so much…! I was stupid. So stupid! I actually thought that I could— could find a way to fix things, if only I kept working, kept trying! There isn’t a way. There never was a way. We’re greedy, we’re awful, we’re ignorant. A planet like that… a universe like this… so long as we’re in it, it’s fucked, it’s all fucked.”

You shake your head. “I may have hated her, but I still wanted to be her. To outdo her. Prove that I could’ve done it better, that change was possible, so she’d have no excuse. I couldn’t do either. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d just be delaying Eris’ inevitable fate like she did.”

Your shoulders heave with each painful breath you take.

“Did she feel vindicated in the end? Think that by saving me once, it’d make up for all the times she didn’t?”

Whether you’re talking to him or yourself, you can’t tell anymore. It doesn’t make a difference. Speaking the truth aloud doesn’t make it any more or less real. It just leaves a bitter taste that’ll never go away.

“If she cared so much, why did she never tell me?” You whisper, your voice cracking. “What was she so afraid of…?”

What was I so afraid of?

Tears trickle down your face in a free flow. The drizzle shifts to a torrential downpour, no matter how hard you try shaking or shutting it off. There’s no point in telling him this. You’ll probably regret it, somewhere down the line.

You faintly register how your body moves without your input. Blinking the wetness in your eyelashes away as best as you can, you see gold patterns. There’s weight around your shoulders too. Weight and warmth. The scent of blood and anise.

He’s pulled you into an embrace against his chest.

You twist and jerk your limbs around, attempting to purchase freedom you can’t afford. You yell at him, curse him, beg him to let you go, and still, his grip never relents. He just holds you there, your struggles amounting to nothing, your pleas falling on deaf ears. His grip doesn’t feel tight until you try wriggling yourself out of it. Then, and only then, are you hit with the realization he could crush you so easily. It must take a great deal of self-restraint to avoid doing so.

The fight leaves your body and you tremble like a leaf in the wind.

His large hand runs over your back, slow and steady, as if his touch were destined to soothe rather than destroy.

Your well of tears runs dry eventually.

“When you live for others, you’ll die for them too.”

Blade’s statement doesn’t make you feel better or worse. It washes over you without soaking in. Whether it’s a warning for you or condemnation for yourself, you don’t know. Perhaps the two overlap in an unsightly hybrid.

Some time passes before he speaks again.

“The day that man drew his weapon on you, I felt something stir, as rousing from a long slumber,” Blade reveals. “I assumed it should remain undisturbed.”

This is your chance. You detach yourself from him enough to look him in the eyes. He loosens his grip just enough to allow this, but no more. The vice would tighten should you try extracting yourself further. You wipe away the moisture clinging to your lower eyelashes with your wrists. Since he’s sitting, he isn’t towering over you. This small detail aids your waning resolve.

“What made you assume that?”

His bandaged hand cups your tear-stained cheeks. You wince, but allow him his indulgence.

“Instinct,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows pinch together as you think. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You guessed that’d it feel like something significant was missing — a gaping hole. That the individual would want to fill it. Curiosity is the sentient being’s natural state, after all. Especially since this should’ve been an element of itself the mind wishes to reinstitute. Yearning, affection, and care; even if it’s a vestige of the full experience, these positive emotions shouldn’t set off alarm bells.

Unless the mind decided it was worth suppressing.

Maybe your mother wasn’t using the influx of memories inflected on Blade as a ‘red herring.’ Kafka adores messing with you, she could’ve floated the idea because she knew you’d hear it in the future. What was your mother doing then? Pulling up key instances throughout Blade’s life, specifically those with heightened emotions and long-lasting influences…

What if it’s not so much altering memories, but altering the mind’s perception of them?

The Arbiter training software is bound to your movements, which allows it to manifest with a few hand gestures. The screen displays itself close to your right. You’d prefer to figure this out elsewhere, but Blade doesn’t appear interested in letting you go anytime soon. He silently observes as you pore over the generated psyche. You’re too focused to comment on how creepy he’s being.

Liliana Kokot. 34. Short-life species. Citizen of the planet Punklorde. Witnessed the murder of her parents at a young age. Came to despise gang activity. Joined police academy. Assigned to the Homicide Unit by age 25. Discovered possible connections between the police chief and organized crime.

You pull out the prismatic shard containing her parent’s murder.

The mind has mechanisms to inhibit trauma that’d otherwise obliterate it. Repression, denial, projection, displacement, rationalization, and regression to name a few. In the same way, prisms have multiple sides. The one which refracts the most light will change depending on how it’s angled.

You adjust the shard without changing its shape. Eventually, you find a side that deems this memory too much, beyond what Liliana can handle. It’s easily absorbed back alongside the other fragments. Except that now, the mind chooses to repress the memory, deep down in the subconscious where it cannot do irreparable harm.

A ‘seal.’

“I get it now,” you wave the screen off. “It’s similar to a heart transplant. Mechanical valves aren’t integrated as smoothly as tissue valves. The body’s more willing to accept what’s similar to it in composition, as is the mind.”

“You don’t look less troubled,” Blade notes.

You scrunch up your nose.

“I mean… this is— I don’t even know. It undermines what makes a person, well… who they are to the very core.”

“When you accepted Elio’s deal, you knew you’d be an accessory to criminal activity. How is that any worse than homicide?”

Blade’s refusal to sugarcoat the truth slashes through you like a phantasmal sword. Perhaps not a thousand times, but close enough.

“This is your price, lotus.”

You want to avert your gaze, but you don’t. It’d feel wrong, somehow. Cowardly. Hypocritical.

No longer can you dwell on the currency itself. What matters now is ensuring you pay your dues on time.

Your debt extends beyond Destiny’s Slave. There’s another proprietor you must settle with, for even the slightest peace of mind.

“Blade— no, Yingxing,” you correct yourself. His muscles stiffen, his true name having gone unspoken for so long devoid of contempt. “I may have made a deal with Elio, but… I haven’t personally made one with you. I’d like to change that.”

You can tell you’ve piqued his interest.

“I swear on everything that is sacred to me that I’ll remain by your side until my final breath. In return, regardless of if I’m alive or dead, you’ll never harm my home or the people who inhabit it. Intentionally or otherwise.”

His long, dark eyelashes flutter shut as he mulls over your proposal. He doesn’t take long. Soon enough, vermillion bores into you again. Candle wicks flicker inside them, alight with an emotion you refuse to name.

“How do you finalize deals, Miss Phaeales?” Blade asks, moving aside a stray strand of hair from your face.

It’s like the air’s been knocked from your lungs. He couldn’t have known, right? The ripples born when those two words are stitched together? Your chest feels tight and hollow all at once. It’s like your internal organs have liquified, leaving nothing but shapeless viscera. This isn’t the right voice. It should be softer, a tenor’s pitch, not a sonorous bass.

“M-Miss Phaeales?”

You blink away a fresh set of tears.

“A promise? Miss Phaeales, I don’t know if I can.”

“Hand me the dagger from before.”

“I don’t really get you, Miss Phaeales, but… I wanna.”

He does, after a moment’s consideration.

“It’s my fault, I should’ve killed that man, and now she’s in that criminal’s debt, because of me…!”

You prick your pointer finger with the dagger’s tip, just enough to create trickling blood.

“Everything you just said — I can tell you believe it.”

He mirrors your actions. His skin quickly mends itself back together.

“So why… why do you look so sad?”

I had so much to say, you think, bitterly. So, so much.

Blade’s bandaged hand falls to your lower back, where it softly pushes you forward. His gloved hand envelops your face, the leather refreshing against your feverish skin. His lips descend upon yours. You may have called the kiss tender had you known nothing about him. You do know him, however, as fate has decreed he’d get a better future at the cost of yours. It’s as if everyone was in on the joke, leaving you the odd one out.

He murmurs words in between kisses that you fight desperately to unhear.

When you pull back for air, you notice how madness surges and retreats in his eyes, as if it were ocean waves washing against the shore.

The likeness helps.

Pretending the red shade’s a brilliant blue instead comes easier.

The next time he kisses you, you cautiously kiss back.

A/N: i thought i'd feel satisfied when i finished nexus' last chapter, but i actually feel rather sad JTFSIKL i cannot overstate how much i enjoyed working on this story. it scratched a sci-fi itch i've had for over a decade now. when writing longer works, it's rare for me to not get caught on snags that sap my inspiration away. that never happened with this story though. from start to finish, i was contentedly tip tapping away on my keyboard.

i became enamored with this idea of a yandere story that didn't just revolve around the MC and yan, it just wasn't until i started outlining nexus that i had an excuse to explore this concept further.

the main cast of n darling, nona, and lear (an anon affectionately dubbed them the lotus trio, which is a term i loved enough to hijack) has become close to my heart. for that reason, writing this chapter physically hurt at times 😭 i wanted to swat blade away like a fly and have everything end nicely. from the very first sentence though, i knew this would be a tragedy, so it'd go against the Themes to pull a power of friendship ending.

at first, i worried about the reader's ability to empathize/connect with n darling, since her status and abilities aren't universal. like at all. the solution presented itself rather naturally. n darling, at least to me, stresses that simmering anger women feel the need to hide for professionality's sake. her experiences as a child where she's given responsibilities beyond her age's capacity, then in adulthood, where she isn't taken seriously (chrysus) or unintentionally infantilized (caicias). i'm sure many afab individuals can relate to some extent.

my primary interest was in having these two deeply frustrated individuals crash together and spill debris everywhere. i was given a little more liberty with blade's actions and dialogue, due to miss phaeales' id inducing presence, which drew out more than he'd normally give. as for blade's characterization, if he isn't in the throes of mara madness, i really can't see him being a hellion 24/7. he feels more somber to me when lucid.

of course, that changes if the right buttons are pressed... but that isn't exclusive to him.

since the final chapter is divided into three main scenes, i wanted to fully explore the three predominant ways i picture a yandere version of blade acting. the first is his guilt and shame, the second, his mara-induced sadism, and the third, a more neutral self where reason prevails.

i hope that you enjoyed reading nexus as much as i enjoyed writing it!! although the main storyline is finished, i'm by no means done with the universe as a whole. i'm planning a little epilogue for starters. then maybe some side stories from blade's perspective ?? who knows, the motivation's still there, so anything is possible.

thank you again 💖

-sincerely, lock.

Tag list: @99-nct @pixiestixes (idk why the tag thingy won't work but an effort was made) ...

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

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kaevehara · 3 months

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The Definition of Beauty (Argenti x Reader)

"You are still the epitome of beauty itself even as you lay still and asleep."

A/N: I am warning you. This is a Hurt/No Comfort fic.

Argenti, of the Knights of Beauty, truly encapsulated the very beauty he praised with his words alone. He never failed to compliment you for simply being you — even if you thought otherwise.

You thought yourself decent; an average person with an average appearance and an average life. Never did you expect that you could hold so much beauty in the eyes of someone so ethereal, much less be the object of his affection — should you feel embarrassed or honored at the thought of being acknowledged by a Knight of Beauty himself?

Honeyed words spewed from his lips, painting your cheeks almost the same shade as his crimson locks.

"You are akin to the first flower that blossoms after a harsh winter."

"Your smile alone puts the stars to envy, thus igniting the flares of their jealousy for they pale in comparison to your radiance."

And, by far, his favorite one — when you two are within each other's warm embrace as you welcome the first rays of dawn. "You are still the epitome of beauty itself even as you lay still and asleep."

You never knew why it was his favorite compliment nor did you ask him about it, choosing to simply live in the moment and to bask in his abundant love.

Argenti touched past your exterior and into your heart, cradling it gently within his palms. For how could someone not fall for a man like Argenti? Truly, you were lucky.

...

Unfortunately, it was and still is a universal truth that beauty is transient. In the eyes of people, beauty fades so long as you succumb to the inevitable fate of aging. Childhood wonders no longer feel the same, wrinkles and blemishes mar faces once pristine, and even a love so great and pure pales in the face of time's absolute passage.

"My fate is to cross the stars alone." Argenti gazes at you, still oh-so-tenderly albeit filled with bridled longing. And yet, he still planned on leaving you in pursuit of true beauty — Idrila herself.

Of course. For how could you hold a candle to Idrila? Argenti may have showered you in endless words of praise, but she is the Aeon of Beauty itself. You will succumb to the inevitable fate of aging, and perhaps by then, Argenti will have found the beauty that he seeks — for time flowed differently in space.

And that was exactly what happened. You live out the rest of your average life alone, still looking for the same warmth he radiated in every person you came across. But no one could compare to Argenti. For he made even the most simplest of words sound beauteous when uttered by his voice of compliments to you, he made a life once so average turn into a wondrous adventure worth exploring.

Only, that made his departure much more painful when even the slightest hue of red reminded you of him and the warmth that you once held within your embrace. Yes, you were indeed the first flower that blossomed after a harsh winter, the lone figure that stood amid a cold and solitary life. By the time a second flower blooms — in the fragile hope that it'd be Argenti, you would have long wilted.

But if anything, he embodied the stars he claimed were inferior to your radiance — shining ever-so-brightly in your life, yet forever out of reach.

You were replaceable, but he wasn't.

...

Three years passed, and Argenti's long and arduous journey has reached its end as he gazes at Idrila.

Only, Idrila looked like...

You.

It is said that the Aeon of Beauty appears as the most beautiful person to the eyes of the beholder, thus making her semblance subjective to every person who sees her. It was only then that Argenti realized. He may have started his journey with the purpose of finding Idrila, but in truth — he wanted you to be the reason for it all. Idrila may have been whom he sought for in the beginning, but he wanted to end his journey with you.

He wanted you to be his closure, his fated reason for journeying the cosmos, his definition of beauty that he painstakingly searched for.

Thus, Argenti now shifted his journey into finding you once again — praying to Idrila in hopes that the threads of fate will lead him back to you once again. Maybe then, he'll be able to shower you once more in compliments that pale in comparison to the very beauty you embodied.

Because to Argenti, you were beauty itself. Perhaps this was what he was meant to realize from the very beginning.

As he traveled aboard his ship and back to the planet that he left you in, he hoped to see your warm smile once more, to bask in your warmth that provided respite from his arduous search. His heart swelled with anticipation. This time, this time — he'll tell you that the most meaningful beauty in the entire universe is you and you alone.

...

Argenti is finally able to see you again. You were as beautiful as ever, he longed to be gazed upon by your radiant eyes, to behold the melodious tone of your voice, and to bask in the beauty you held.

Only, you laid still in your very deathbed — taken by the cruel passage of time much like all the beauty in life. Only three years has passed for him due to the warping of time in space, but an entire lifetime had passed for you.

How many years did you spend waiting for him, he wonders? How many nights did you long for his company only for him not to be there? It was then that Argenti realized that this guilt will far surpass the transience of beauty, one that will haunt him for the rest of his life. For regret is far more impervious than the fragility of beauty.

Argenti walked over to your stilled form, beholding your beauty one last time. And as he laid a gentle kiss upon your brow, he thinks —

You are still the epitome of beauty even as you lay still. Only, he wishes you were just asleep.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #argenti x reader #argenti x you #hsr imagines #honkai star rail x you #hsr drabbles #star rail x reader #star rail x you

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pigeonsplease · 2 months

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Current pet theory circa 2.1: Gaiathra Triclops is a variation of Ena the Order.

Have a look at the eyeball in the background and the dusty brown planet in the orb:

Now look at Aventurine’s eyes, which are very specifically called out as unique to his clan, as well as the planet in Sigonia Planar set:

Personal opinion: Aventurine’s “luck” is actually a blessing of Ena the Order under another name. It lines up with a lot of side-lore: The beads, the three part harmony prayers, the emphasis on hands as symbols of Gaiathra as well as the fate of a planet under Ena’s protection always being a period of splendour for the societies ending with total devastation.

Before we hit Penacony, Argentina’s seemingly random interruption introduces the concept of dead and missing aeons and the swarm persistingz. Why?

Penacony is all about the Xipe the Harmony and Qlipoth the Preservation factions (i.e The Family and the IPC), and both those Aeons were involved with Ena. In the Swarm Simulated Universe: Qlipoth struck a pact with Ena to deal with the Swarm before Xipe ganked them. Meanwhile, Ruan Mei was running around reviving the Swarm emanator ~for science~ just a few patches ago. Something, or someone, to do with Ena would very much complete the callbacks to the Swarm.

Aventurine? He acts like he’s YOLOing but he always has strategies and they end neatly in his favour despite the complexity. Imo he’s not so much lucky as he is… putting everything in order.

#hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail spoilers #honkai star rail theories #please don’t spoil me with leaks i am trying so hard and it keeps happening dawgs #hsr aventurine

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yuesya · 1 month

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Reach the optimal outcome.

An explosive detonation, an eruption of golden light. In the aftermath, the ground runs red with blood. Corpses line the path of stars, utterly silent in death.

Weigh the factors.

An explosive detonation, an eruption of golden light. Hoarse shouts. This time, there yet remains those who resist, who lift their weapons in defiance. But it’s not enough–

Find the way.

…

The future is a nebulous thing, difficult to glean and impossible to control. But not impossible to influence, and not impossible to change. Elio has glimpsed the fateful future that awaits them all. He knows what must be done, and so he will bow his head to destiny. Make the necessary preparations, nudge things along in the right direction; all so that when the time comes…

When the time finally comes…

…

Elio closes his eyes.

… The Aeon of Destruction, Nanook. A being whose goal is the cessation of all life, who views the birth and existence of the universe itself as a mistake. The Antimatter Legion serves His will, commanded by their generals: Phantylia, Zephyro, Irontomb–

–?

…

Something is… very different in this simulation. Chance, or coincidence?

There are seven Lord Ravagers. Emanators of Destruction who carry out their Aeon’s bidding, and leave nothing but deathly silence echoing in the stars along their wake. But now, there is an eighth that is present among their ranks when Elio looks into the future again.

How curious.

It comes as an unexpected surprise, certainly, that there is yet another who draws the gaze of the Ruin Author. But it’s not an impossibility. After all, the universe is vast, and there are countless factors working in tandem that all affect the future.

The eighth Lord Ravager bears a vaguely humanoid appearance, but there is no mistaking them for something human. Their entire body is white, and filled with cracks. Like marble stone, filled with veins of gold. Blades shatter uselessly upon their skin as it strides among the stars, untouchable. Some form of invulnerability? What of their abilities? If there was to be an eighth that Elio also needed to account for, then–

The Lord Ravager opens their eyes.

And the world falls silent.

…

The Lord Ravager glances dispassionately at their surroundings, and an entire world dies.

… Elio cannot allow this.

…

The Lord Ravager descends from the stars. Opens their eyes, and–

The Lord Ravager descends from the stars. They are met with burning flames in resistance, but emerge unharmed from the inferno. Then, they open their eyes–

The Lord Ravager descends from the stars.

The Lord Ravager descends–

The Lord Ravager–

Elio focuses upon the Lord Ravager and concentrates. There is little doubt that this is most dangerous of all the Lord Ravagers. Who were they? Where did they come from? How did the Aeon of Destruction find them?

It’s not easy, but looking into the past is far a simpler task to accomplish than simulating the future. The past only records what has already occurred, and there’s no changing events that have already been set in stone.

Elio sees–

A beautiful world, lush with life.

Smoke curls into the air. Screams. Monsters walk the lands–

Curses–

Stellaron.

Elio looks silently into the rapidly-changing scenery, and understands. The eighth Lord Ravager comes from a small, isolated world, one that hadn’t properly developed any methods of interstellar travel, nor established connections with other civilizations. And before they had any chance to do so… they were found by a Stellaron.

It’s easy enough to guess the rest of the story from there.

The eighth Lord Ravager. The sole survivor of a dead world. Sometime after the total destruction of her world, she must’ve caught the Aeon of Destruction’s attention. But for such an isolated world, how–?

Enemies from beyond the skies. Kill.

…

A girl stands upon the barren earth motionlessly, broken sword in hand. The eighth Lord Ravager, before she was cast into the Warforge by the Aeon of Destruction and remade anew.

… A lone girl, guarding the broken husk of a dead world even long after there remains nothing for her to protect.

The Antimatter Legion. That explains it, then. The Antimatter Legion somehow found this world after its end, and following that…

Long white hair streams out behind the girl like a banner as she tosses her broken weapon aside. The defeated enemies before the not-yet Lord Ravager disintegrate.

Then, she suddenly tilts her head upwards. Eldritch blue eyes lock directly onto Elio’s own.

“Who watches?”

Elio’s eyes snap open.

…

Bright lights. The aroma of coffee. It’s mostly quiet on the Stellaron Hunters’ ship right now, and the parlor area is empty –save for a young woman with red-violet hair who looks up from her coffee with a smile. Kafka.

“Something the matter?” she asks.

“… We need to change course,” Elio says.

#Writing #zenith of stars au #hsr au #elio shuffling through potential future timelines and finding shiki #basically #lots of things are vague since we don't know much about elio yet haha

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sincerelyy-youres · 1 year

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Gaze Upon Me (Yandere Nanook × Aeon! Reader)

Sypnosis: The vast oceans of stars in the sky offers many great and terrifying encounters, one of which is when Aeons cross paths with one another. Others devour and others work together, but what if one falls madly in love with the other?

TW: Obssesion, stalking and implied kidnapping. Read at your own risk

You were too stubborn to understand Akivili's warning.

It's not as if it wasn't important that you weren't giving it much thought, but it was the fact that you already convinced yourself that it won't happen. It was already a thousand centuries ago when you first defended the people of "Adlivun" from the raging war declared by their very own emperor. You were weak then, being born just a few years ago from the death of a star system that greatly cherishes perseverance, and as all aeons needs to get a job done, you did your first and very own.

You are the Aeon of Resistance, and people who is opressed and cornered deserves as much as justice that they need to have. You answer to their every call, to their every will to resist, and your greatest regrets is when your own resistance falters, letting the enemy win, letting the opposition lose.

Adlivun is your first and biggest regret.

Being the youngest Aeon back then, you underestimated the power of man. The Emperor's manpower and soldiers were much more than a small group of people that wanted to resist, relying solely on your grace. Before you can even think of a way to save your people, the power of the emperor advances, leaving you hopeless. You left Adlivun in shame that day, the image of mangled bodies of the people that once revered you still fresh in your mind, their dying eyes showing a shade of disappointment.

You ran away far, far away from the accusatory stares that you feel in your back until you bumped into Akivili, The Aeon of Trailblaze, who had just left Adlivun in disbelief. You didn't beg them to let you in, to ask what had become of Adlivun as you left, but nevertheless they took you in, and said you were free to stay with them until you learn to become your own.

It was the first ever recorded interaction in which two aeons traversed the stars together. Perhaps Fuli the Remembrance gazed at the moment, at the interaction, and deemed it worthy of a memory in the garden of recollection. As the two of you traveled together, Akivili told you of what happened to Adlivun, and the fate that might befall of you soon.

"When I arrived there, Adlivun was an absolute resorvoir of chaos. What remains of them were unlucky enough to be in the path of the Aeon of Propagation." They said, their voice expressing disappointment. Akivili had no physical form, and you only see them in a form of a warm light, like a companion in every cold weathered, or rather, in this cold universe's travels. Perhaps in the entirety of their journey, never had they come across to something as cold as the fate of Adlivun.

"I left Adlivun when the resistance fell... perhaps fate recognizes the wishes of the dead." You said, having mixed emotions of the situation. As the Aeon of Resistance, you of course value absolute persistence, but your people, the opposition of Adlivun had long perished. What victory is there to enjoy when the people are dead?

"I saw the Emperor and his people fight with all their might, but their physique is evidently tired with their previous war." You can almost see Akivili shake their head, "Eventually Tayzzyronth the Propagation defeated what was left of there, and their faction, the Swarm's March, led the final blow"

"I left before Tayzzyronth notices me, but in a distance as I jumped between universes, before I even bumped into you, I saw how Adlivun died...It exploded, then a gold glow emanated from all the debris."

Akivili was quiet after their statement and it made you think. A gold glow emenating from a fallen world means one thing: An Aeon is born. Considering what Adlivun's state is before it died, theres no question what kind of Aeon it was. Destructive, chaotic, always craving of absolute doom, reckless, and wrathful. It was--

"An Aeon is born" said Akivili, after that long silence of what seems of them pondering. "And a path along with them. The path of destruction. They are probably moving and causing chaos everywhere as we speak, and posing a threat, especially to you."

You frowned. "But what do they have to do with me? The emperor won against the resistance and I am not the one who destroyed their homeworld. It is not reasonable for them to come after me." No matter what angle you look at, the path of destruction should not be directed to you, and if by any means it does...

"Had you ever heard of history repeating itself?" Akivili suddenly said, cutting you off of your train of thoughts. "Destruction seeks resistance, not just of absolute infliction of doom. Think of it this way, where is the thrill when everyone just submitted to domination? Something had to resist, and the process of breaking that something into submission, is what true destruction is"

If the path of destruction is directed to you, then you are to resist. But, you still resist the fact that destruction persuing resistance is written in finality. If what destruction seeks is absolute submission, then why go through the long and tedious process of persuing resistance knowing that it won't give in? It is resistance for a reason. If true destruction is breaking something into submission, why not persue a path that manifests the values of submission so the job can be easily done?

You heard Akivili chuckle at you, they had probably noticed that you were so deep in though about their words. Just as you were about to spout a long rebuttal, Akivili spoke, not wanting to argue any longer.

"I see you still resist the possibility, but soon enough you'll understand. Just a warning, though, you may be the Aeon of Resistance, but you can't resist everything."

And with that, Akivili left you on your own. You sat there, pondering over the Aeon's words. How you wished you listened to them before they perished, back then. Their radiant light, how you wished you still see how beautiful it is before it was snatched from you by darkness, holding them at the palm of destruction's hands before ultimately blowing out what was left of their power.

If anything, you should have known better than to question your companion's thoughts. If only you just listened, if only you didn't resist their concise analysations, then you wouldn't have to deal with this abomination of man who chases you althroughout the universe as if you did something unexcusable to him. Then, you wouldn't have to jump to one universe after the other seeking temporary refuge when you lingered too long.

Resistance persevere because it fights for what it was worth fighting for. It was ironic, considering you choose to constantly flee from the oppression, but it was almost understandable. You fled when the resistance of Adlivun fell. So you also constanly fly away when Akivili was killed. Both of which was worth fighting for, and as much as the reality pains you, the truth is that resistance falters when the reason to resist dies.

After all, Akivili...you'd seen them die before your very own eyes. And in which, before the destruction constantly chases after you

This space you were currently in, was a temporary home you'd find yourself residing after barely getting from the Aeon of Destruction. If anything, you yourself doesn't know why he is constantly chasing after you, but you don't intend to find the reason why, and you don't want to satisfy him by giving yourself in.

Even though the will to resist is weak, it will still resist. Even as you felt the weight of his gaze, again, after barely getting away, you'll resist. That gaze that felt like it materializes into a physical form, it was all too familliar, following your every move as you panicked, as you desperately tried to find any hint of his arrival to counter his chase with flight.

He's here

Your focus shifted as you felt his gaze narrow, and along with it was the visions it brings. Your vision blurs, to what was once the stars that fills this desolate space, begins to open a portal of gold. Gold eyes, white braided hair and tanned skin. Deformed arms and gold corruption seeping in between the cracks in his skin, and the sharp, smothering, and somewhat possesive gaze as he looks down at you. He smiled, and it became a terrifying grin as his arms reaches out for you, seeking to trap you inside a make shift, sub-reality prison that only he knew the existence of.

It made you unsettled, but still quick witted enough to avoid his confrontation as he charges towards you. Just in time to get out of his inflicted delirium. You looked at him, and when he realized that he didn't caught you in his arms after all, he went again and charges towards you, and he looks so confident that he will succeed, making you flee towards the nearest possible exit in this space that you once found comfort into, where his prescence wasn't shown.

But your escape was short lived when the exit was apparently blocked by some kind of a Gold barrier, the light of the next space fading away like how a light in the end of the tunnel would be blocked if the tunnel collapsed. Despairingly, you turned around, only to see his face expressing a delirious satisfaction.

Akivili was right. History repeated itself. The emperor defeated the resistance of Adlivun centuries ago and now... you were being captured by the remains of that war. It was humiliating, knowing all you can do is to resist.

Slowly, Nanook's arms reaches out for you, and all you'd ever do was fight his possesive gaze with your wrathful glare. Your power was blocked by some kind of force, One that you cannot exactly root out it's origins, but all you can say is that it was slowly inviting you in a forced slumber, whispering incoherent lullabies and doom, And the last you'd ever seen was his satisfied smile.

Perhaps, the true reason of his unnatural and perplexing obssesion over you was already there, laid out for you, just in the naked eye. It was as simple as Akivili had said it, that Nanook wanted "true destruction". And in true destruction, there was you.

It was too late now, to understand Akivili's warning.

#yandere #yancore #yandere x reader #yanderecore #yandere nanook x reader #nanook #honkai star rail #hsr aeons #aeons #akivili #FINALLY ITS DONE!#excuse me your highness as i'll proceed with jingyuan next #if youre confused the one that blocked reader's powers is a stellaron because apparently nanook is theorized to make stellarons #and he uses the power of the stellaron to his advantage #no beta we are doomed like akivili #sincerelyy youres

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fuel-me-coffee · 2 months

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Nanook Spares A World

Contents: child reader and Nanook (familial/platonic), Nanook is about to do Nanook things but decides against it

A/N: this was a request by @justapersonalarchive uhhhh... It's been months I'm very very sorry for the long wait, I have not forgotten about this fic I just struggled getting around to writing it :'>

_____________________________________________

Nanook looked on upon a planet at the palm of their hand. It was so measly and small, an insignificant speck of dust in the universe. A simple nudge from the aeon's pinkie would be enough to completely obliterate it. And that was precisely what they were about to do. Their legion was already wreaking havoc on the planet, all they had to do was give it a final push and finish the job.

But here you sat upon their shoulder, just outside of the destructive force's reach. A child who in an unlikely turn of fate gained the favor of Destruction. You were desperately tugging at their braids, screaming and yelling desperately at them to spare this planet, tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks.

What possibly could make you so attached to this particular world? You've witnessed Nanook destroy countless numbers of them before, yet usually you quietly and obediently stayed put. You sat and observed, or when it got too much to bear for your pure and innocent heart, you looked away, tucking yourself away just outside of where the aeon's gaze could reach.

Yet this time you actively tried to make them stop.

Why?

They looked upon this tiny world again. Whatever it was that you saw in it, they could not see it. They looked at you once again, your broken expression.

No matter.

Just this once, they shall grant mercy upon this planet. Seeing a precious child of their so hurt tugged at a spot somewhere within the deep golden gash in their chest.

Human emotions are so fragile.

It was enough destruction for this instance in the wide universe.

#hsr #hsr nanook x reader #but platonic obv #hsr nanook #hsr aeons

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luminecent-sky · 4 months

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The Aeon of fate — Explained [as much as they can explain at least.]

A/n: I've been cookin up some lore during the Christmas season and boom. Lore drop time! Don't ask why it took so long/j

[Opening research logs....]

[Aeon records:]

[The Aeon of Fate — All recalled information and records available.]

The Aeon of Fate, colloquially known as 'Moirai'.

-- Other titles include:

The Weaver

Destinyseeker

Parcae

Holder of a thousand strings

-- Has no known date of existence, currently theorized to have formed thousands of Amber eras ago, back when the first forms of sentient life began to wander the universe. Many believe that there are/were three different beings sharing the mantle of 'Fate'. None have found proof of this.

-- Though any known past emanators no longer exist, their records show the extensive reach and power of the Aeon. Said to be able to erase any traces of existence, to turn the tide of battle on a whim, to remove and add entire dynasties with a simple thread.

-- The emanators were usually prophets, seers, and divine priests, describing the Aeon as a veiled figure spinning thousands of strings or a being made of strings, constantly weaving together and fraying apart.

-- Those who tread the path of Fate are those who seek to guide others and interpret the world, diligent people who feel a deeper connection to the universe.

-- Previous emanators of the path were highly sought after, commonly abducted and forced to serve kings and act as advisors due to their knowledge.

-- However they began to die out, most simply dropping dead while others managed to write down the last few prophecies and sights they had. The last known emanators of Moirai, were the three sisters, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, Whose only surviving prophecy spoke of how the Aeon has found the final thread of the cosmic tapestry, before all three promptly killed themselves.

Factions:

The Thread Weavers - People who believe that the Aeon left one last unfinished tapestry depicting the fate of the last amber era, they search for any thread that can lead them to the tapestry.

Spools of Fate - The inner circle of the thread weavers and members of this circle were known emanators, the ones who led the pursuit on finding the threads of fate. Was led by the three sisters before their deaths. [All new vassals of the Aeon are considered spools due to their direct contact with them.]

#writings from the cosmos: star rail #sahsr #sahsrau #universe: aeon of fate

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vampkomori · 1 month

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Ena the Order is the concept of conforming to Fate, and Elio is an Emanator of Order

welcome to my pre-2,2 theory, i got carried away.

for those yet unaware, theres been a theory flying around that the Goddess of Sigonia, Gaiathra Triclops, is a folkloric interpretation of Ena the Order, on account of the iris of Ena's eye having the same colors as Aventurine's. we can go much further with this though.

(Aventurine's pupils are diamond-shaped, but little Kakavasha has round pupils. its likely that diamond-shaped pupils are a result of becoming a Stoneheart, because Topaz also has diamond-shaped pupils, and Aventurine used to not have them. but i digress)

Anyway, Gaiathra=Ena. Gaiathra is described as a left palm with 3 eyes, arguably Ena also has 3 eyes- two closed ones on their face, and one massive, open eye floating around them.

Gaiathra "reigns over all matters related to fertility, travels, and trickery." (Sigonia, Planar Ornament Relic Set) and is said to have been the one to bestow Aventurine with his luck.

but first: What is Order? Based on the words alone, youd think Order would have more in common with Equilibrium, but evidently that wasnt the case. Considering it was assimilated into the Harmony, it must have overlaps with that though, since the broader path is the one that absorbs the narrower one if their concepts are too similar. So, if Harmony is unity and peace, the idea of everyone joining a happy paradise, then how did the Harmony manage to absorb Order?

"I am filled with curiosity about how THEY swallowed up Order. The hymns of Xipe continue to spread and grow, occasionally overseen by ideology. In contrast, Ena's harmonic songs seems to align within a three-dimensional framework, akin to an emperor maintaining hierarchical order among all creatures. While there may be some overlap between THEIR Paths, the ancient Order is enormous in size, and swallowing THEM would prove far from effortless... Among the Aeons, there exist countless enigmas that surpass my own speculations." - Dev Log for Xipe in Simulated Universe, Herta's comment

Herta doesnt know either, and by all means a freshly ascended Aeon should not have an easy time absorbing someone as ancient as Ena- that is, unless Ena intended for it to happen.

This is a lot of establishing facts before i get to the meat of things. We still dont technically know what Order even is, so lets try figure it out!

"The planets governed by Ena adhere staunchly to established rules, yet I must acknowledge that the various calamities in the cosmos were all hindered by Ena's guardianship, leading to extremely efficient development of civilization among diverse planets. Interestingly, however, civilizations all eventually hit rock bottom because of Order. The ancient planets that once fervently worshiped Order would shine briefly before their total collapse... Perhaps this is the "Path" of these planets." - Dev Log for Ena in Simulated Universe, Herta's comment

So: Order is the concept of adhering to a predetermined outcome- their "path". Ena observes humanity "gazing into a crystal orb containing the cosmos" and ensures that they all follow their predetermined path of Fate. None may go astray, no outside influence may interfere, no matter what fate awaits them, they must follow their set path.

"THEIR voice is composed of syllables sequencing the rise and fall of civilizations in accordance with the Aeon's path."

Ena has the ability to foresee the future, as they dont just sequence the rise, but also the fall of civilizations. They are inherently impartial, just, things are destined to happen and so they see to it that they happen. Order is the concept of conforming to Fate, if a planet is destined to be destroyed by a calamity, then Ena guides it to that outcome.

However, Aeons, despite being concepts, arent just concepts, they have some semblance of sentience, self-awareness. they have goals, they make deals, though humans are unable to comprehend them.

So, Ena conforms to fate, but what is the purpose of doing so? Ena can see the future, but we know Kafka. there isnt just ONE future, theres a lot of futures, and endless paths. So its logical to assume that Ena, by being able to see the fates of civilizations, can actually see the endless amount of paths towards all possible fates, and personally chooses which path is specifically followed. and for the sake of the theory, lets assume Ena is benevolent and guides humanity towards the most fortunate fate (though even the most "fortunate" of fates can still end in destruction)

Before Ena was assimilated into the Harmony, they made a deal with Qlipoth the Preservation: Qlipoth will bring an end to Tayzzyronth the Propagation (as they are interfering with the predetermined Fates of planets) and in turn Ena will help Qlipoth against Oroboros the Voracity somehow (likely foreseeing its Fate and interfering with it). Qlipoth held up their end of the bargain, but Ena was assimilated before they were able uphold their part, which is interesting

We know theres something fishy about the Orders assmiliation into Harmony- it doesnt make sense, especially knowing that Ena foresees the future, and is likely aware of their own fate.

Heres where we remember that Gaiathra is also a goddess of trickery. Theres two possibilities:

Ena foresaw their own "demise" and made a deal with Qlipoth knowing they wouldnt be able to follow through on their part of the promise

Ena, able to see multiple paths for the future, foresaw that being assimilated into Xipe would lead them towards the most fortunate one, so they let themselves be absorbed on purpose, as the Harmony would not have been able to absorb the Order otherwise. The deal was just a bonus.

Either way, Ena would have known of the future, and making a deal shortly before the assimiliation of their path is clearly a scheme- they get something great out of it, and dont have to follow up on it.

Heres where we bring up Elio (and the Stellaron Hunters). We actually still dont know what path they follow, and isnt that so interesting? What path could possibly include following a "script" to ensure a certain future? hmmm

sounds like Order to me!

Elio possesses the ability to foresee future possibilities and the paths that lead towards them. Essentially, the exact ability that Ena is shown to possess. All the futures look pretty bleak though, except for one, which hes trying to achieve by making sure to follow that exact path: his "script". the very definition of Order.

Note also that despite Enas assimiliation, their faction can still exist. After all, Idrila the Beauty is also gone, but the Knights of Beauty still roam around. The path of a deceased or assimiliated Aeon can still be upheld even if the Aeon no longer exists.

Anyway, Elio is basically upholding Ena's legacy by ensuring that we adhere to fate, and guides us towards the most fortunate one. His ability is far too powerful though, so its safe to assume hes an Emanator, since theyre considered to be "as good as emissaries of the Aeons' wills"

*As a bonus, Gaiathra also reigns over "all matters related to 'travels'". if you stretch the definition a little, "travels" could refer to the idea of embarking on paths towards fate. you "travel" on a path, after all.

Theres also this interesting little tidbit here:

"THEY are always so symmetrical and so equal. If we were to rank those most sublime beings, only the Voracity and the Permanence can stand toe-to-toe with the Equilibrium's antiquity... Oh, and also the Order. After Ena disappeared, the Equilibrium's duties have only grown greater. Then, how would HooH perceive Nanook?"- Dev Log for HooH in Simulated Universe, Herta's comment

The fact that Nanook is brought up is pretty funny as theyre the youngest Aeon, and since only the most ancient ones would be able to stand "toe-to-toe" with HooH, youd think as the youngest, Nanook wouldnt stand a chance against them. but they were brought up regardless, in tandem with Ena no less

Coincidentally, Nanook is also the Aeon that Elio wants the Trailblazer to defeat too. Curious! You could say that it is the Will of the Order to see the fall of the Destruction? anyway,

HooH's duties "have grown only greater" since Ena disappeared, meaning that they must have overlapped in some way before, but coexisted. (similarly to how the Remembrance and Preservation coexist, possibly) We dont know much of anything about Equilibrium yet though, so lets put that aside.

Lets talk about luck.

Luck is just chance. The results of "chance" are left up to "fate". We know that not all choices or events matter in the grand scheme of things. Theres endless possible paths, so rolling a 1 or a 6 doesnt matter because it will still lead you onto the same destiny. Luck is irrelevant to fate, it does not influence it. Luck only influences how you arrive at it.

So how do you reconcile that with Order? if Order is staunchly adhering to fate, observing humanity to ensure they all end up on the "right" path, then how does chance, luck, happenstance, fit into all this?

Luck is the ultimate Order, because there is only ONE path that luck can take: the most fortunate one. It does not influence your fate however, luck only influences which one of the countless paths towards your fate you end up on. and always being lucky narrows your potential paths down to just one.

This is also why Nihility was the natural conclusion for Aventurine. If you realize that no matter what you do, you cannot change the outcome of your choices, then you realize its futile and decide to succumb to it. youll always win, so whats the point? Thats Nihility: succumbing to Fate, the inevitability of everything, realizing your choices dont matter. When youre lucky and everything you do leads to the same result then you start to think that maybe nothing matters.

Back on track though. Fate, despite being predetermined, is not singular. as in, theres predetermined fates (plural) waiting for you at the end of your path. theres multiple endings. Luck means you have less paths to end up on but luck does not influence the end goal.

In a way, what Elio is trying to do is very similar to what Aventurines "luck" does: he wants to end up on a very specific path that leads him to a very specific fate, and luck leads you onto one single path, theoretically making it easier to achieve certain fates. Its an interesting parallel.

"Blessing" someone with luck seems a bit too hands-on for someone like Ena, so while we might never know why Aventurine was blessed specifically, we can kind of see it as a sort of trial-run. Ena does not interfere, does not "defy" fate, but bestowing luck onto someone to narrow down their futures is a bit like interference- except its not, only on a technicality. theyre still adhering to the set paths that exist, after all, im not changing fate, what are you talking about? look, hes still on one of your predetermined paths. the fact that he cant go onto other paths is irrelevant if he still ends up at one of the predetermined endings.

As a note though, Ena is not Fate itself. Ena adheres to fate and ensures that humanity follows it. Nihility is basically succumbing to fate and thinking its inevitable and change is futile, and I guess you could see Harmony as the concept of circumventing fate- instead of arriving at one of your predetermined endings, how about you get assimilated into our harmonious hivemind and experience eternal bliss? (lets wait on that 2.2 harmony lore-drop before saying anything about that though)

got off track a little. basically, Ena's Order is the concept of conforming/adhering to Fate. potentially, in their era, Fate was a singular end, because they were the one to guide humanity onto certain paths and towards certain ends (which is why civilizations thrived but ultimately still collapsed). Enas assimiliation was on purpose, although we can only speculate on the reason. so i will. heres my speculation:

Ena is not Fate itself, but a Guide. seeing the countless possible paths and possible fates for humanity, they foresaw the same thing that Elio foresees- a terrible End at the hands of the Destruction that may affect humans and Aeons alike. potentially, Enas Will mightve been to avoid that (but remaining within the confines of fate, not defying it) so they set in motion the steps needed to embark on said path, which necessitated their assimilation into Harmony. if Enas reign caused the Fates of humans to be "set in stone", then Enas disappearance could be seen as humans regaining the ability to choose their own paths, their own fate. Essentially, Enas disappearance wouldve been necessary in order to even create the possibility of an "alternate ending" and leaving the choice up to humanity.

anyway thats the conclusion thanks for coming, godspeed if you read the whole thing. im bad at keeping things short and concise. and i started rambling near the end

as a disclaimer: these are vague thoughts and i change my view on things often. if we get new info in the future that says this was all nonsense then thats that. im not trying to convince anyone. just offering a perspective for funsies

#honkai star rail #ena the order #gaiathra triclops #when the new simverse update comes out with a new harmony path and we get lore about Ena we popping the BIGGEST bottles #cough. well anyway. Order am i right.#i didnt talk about Enas imagery but its pretty insane what with the puppet strings and and giant eye and #well. to offer another perspective: genshin is very fond of describing fate as a panopticon. 'casting an examining eye on humanity'#(especially with the new lore about the crimson moon- the eye of fate and judgement)#and literally calling Fate the strings that puppeteer humanity. haha. ha. HA.#not necessarily saying hsr and gi are connected. but rather that hoyo has a definitive view of fate and often uses the same ideas #over and over again. so. rather than saying theyre connected its more like. the imagery is so similar #that you could say the heavenly principles are how theyre representing their idea of fate in genshin. and ena is hsr's idea #i just wanted to mention that though its been driving me insane #um. ena sweep. live love laugh #vampy.txt

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ohmeadows · 8 months

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The joker of the deck: Aha the Elation (and some Swarm Disaster lore)

While reading through swarm disaster lore (again), Herta popped up during a moment discussing the disappearance of Oroboros the Voracity, noting that some entity was interfering with the simulation. Which got me thinking about Aha. Again.

Having played through Swarm Disaster’s entire story twice now, I can’t help but think that whatever role Aha the Elation has to play, is going to be incredibly important. Or at least entertaining.

Aha is the only self-aware Aeon in the Simulated Universe. Despite the team’s efforts to tamper down on it, Aha continues to be self-aware, toying with you and the creators each time they appear. It’s heavily implied that simulated Aha is actively interfering with Herta, Screwllum and Ruan Mei’s work to understand the Aeons, being present each time the Aeons schemed to destroy Tayzzyronth the Propagation.

Aha freely admits to infiltrating the Astral Express for a year just to find the perfect moment to blow the train up. Why? To mess with Akivili and their followers.

Aha is the Aeon closest involved with the ways of mortals, and while it lacks the magnitude of directly devastating powers such as the Destruction or the Hunt, it doesn’t lack for ability to turn fate on a whim — Aha has directly influenced or been involved in rebellions, government coups, deaths of Aeons and is one of the only (so far) Aeons confirmed to shapeshift to a human when it suits their needs.

In fact, it’s heavily implied Sampo is a follower of Aha (if not more?) and when you think about Sampo’s involvement in Belobog’s storyline, he shows up at precise moments, barely does anything, and yet alters some extremely pivotal details that changes everything, above all dragging Bronya down to see the truth of Belobog. At the end of the Belobog arc, Sampo reports to someone, nearly breaking the fourth wall. He did it for fun. Just a little gigglejoke. Why not change the course of Belobog if it makes for a spectacle?

Also: during the Phantylia fight, you can hear Aha laughing. At who? Us, or Phantylia? Something is in motion aboard the Luofu, involving the Destruction, the Abundance and the Hunt. It won’t be the first time Aha has brought together different Aeons for their own amusement.

In Swarm Disaster, it’s made clear Aha had some level of knowledge or perhaps even involvement in Ena the Order becoming Xipe the Harmony. You-as-Akivili, the role the Trailblazer inhabits while in Simulated Universe, feel uneasy watching Aha suck up to Xipe, which is interesting to note. Ena is the one who demands Qlipoth to act on the problem the Tayzzyronth poses, and yet they are absorbed by Xipe.

I’ll also note that in Swarm Disaster, it’s implied it was “chance” that caused the rise of the Propagation path and their ascension to Aeonhood. Now, I’m not saying Aha did it, but…

At the end of Swarm Disaster, Herta takes you through the simulation once more, pointing out three big details that bug her after having witnessed all they could divine from the past:

The destruction of the system the Propagation (once a mortal) originated from was not a natural occurrence. Something or someone instigated it. Herta isn’t sure who did it, suggesting Voracity, Order or Elation, but landing on not knowing. For now.

During the Propagation path wrecking havoc across the universe, Oroboros the Voracity and Ena the Order disappeared. How and why are not entirely clear, though we know Ena was absorbed into Xipe. Oroboros is interesting since the Voracity is an enemy of Qlipoth — perhaps even an Aeon Qliopth fears, to a degree. Herta’s exact quote is: “Oroboros and Ena vanished in the middle of this tale! Completely, silently, as if there was another story progressing along in the shadows underneath the main stage…”

The Aeons that came together — Equilibrium, Preservation, Trailblaze, Elation and Harmony — may have brought down the Propagation, but the path itself isn’t dead. There’s endless Swarm offsprings still alive in the universe. Herta suggests that the Propagation isn’t actually truly dead, and will rise again. And soon.

Leaving Swarm Disaster, it's hard not to feel a sense of unease about Aha. Herta herself states that the universe has gotten worse since Aha's laugh rang out across the universe for the first time. Whatever hand Aha is intending to play in the future will be very interesting.

#aha the elation #honkai star rail #honkai star rail lore #star railing.txt #aeons #interesting to note as well:#the abundance the destruction and the hunt were not around at the time of the swarm disaster #i've been wondering a lot about what THAT means

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shiyorin · 4 months

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Hello👋 I hope you're doing well) if the requests are still open, can you write something for the Emperor of Mankind? 🤭 A soft Yandere with the reader psyker eternal. He does not like when anyone other than Malcador and the Custodians communicate with her, even the primarchs saw her only fleetingly at celebrations. But the reader is completely satisfied with everything. She can do her favorite things and not worry about anything. Dream🥰

The description of the Emperor here is quite vague because I like the way he is portrayed through others's POV. But here we are.

You gazed into the dying embers of the fire, listening to the familiar sounds of your chamber settling into nightly slumber around you. Another day had drawn to a close within the confines of the Imperial Palace, but not for you.

Not yet.

You rose and drifted to the window, looking out upon the sprawling expanse of the Terra below. Lights in thousands of windows flickered like distant stars, whole hive districts darkened as the citizens within their live. All throughout the realm, lives wound down in preparation for the coming dawn.

All except you, it seemed. Not until he came.

As always, your thoughts turned inevitably to him. The gilded cage he had granted you so long ago, this place that served now as your one and onlyhome, however grand. A sanctuary from the cruel outside world, and yet, a prison nonetheless.

His sanctuary. His prison. His… everything.

Always he came to you here at night's deepest hour, even his Custodes can't come here. When the shadows within shadows held dominion and privacy was assured. That was when he would emerge like a wraith to steal what moments he could find in your company, before withdrawing back into the places from whence he came.

The routine had repeated for centuries unchanging. Long ago you had ceased to question its purpose or meaning. It simply was as immutable. Their tryst formed one more link in the chain binding your existence to his in servitude.

Tomorrow, as always, you would see him withdraw once more into isolation, leaving you to continue existing at the periphery, useful, beloved, and ultimately powerless. Another day would pass, and another, each one leading you gradually further from the life you had known outside these walls. From the dreams, ambitions, and connections of your former self.

Until at last even memory itself began to fade like mist beneath the dawn. Only he remained, constant as the Star to guide you remaining years. Your Emperor. Your Master of Mankind. Your God.

His coming disrupted your musings, as inevitable as the tides. You sensed the stirring in the aether that preceded his physical arrival, the subtle bending of probabilities and skein of fate. A shiver traced its way down your spine in premonition.

Turning, you beheld him emerging from a fold in reality itself. Golden light spilled through the rent as he stepped free, severing the passageway behind with a negligent wave. Clad as ever in gold, eyes gleaming like twin suns beneath his ornate armor, he commanded the room utterly.

A god made from a human. Destined to rule all, whether worshipped or reviled. Yours, eternally.

"My dearest." His voice enfolded you, smooth as fine wine yet bearing weight of aeons. "You await me still."

A statement, not a question. He knew as well as you the path each night would take, the steps they must dance through countless repetitions. And the ritual brought them comfort, as all such familiar routines do in a chaotic universe.

You inclined your head. "Always, my lord."

Crossing to your side, he lifted a hand to cradle your cheek, a lover's caress from one who spurned all other connection or weakness. For him there was only duty. Only for you.

You leaned into his touch with a soft sigh, closing your eyes the better to engrave this fleeting instant of intimacy upon your memories. Savoring each sensation as though it were their last, though repetition had dulled the keen edge of uncertainty long ago.

Your Emperor. Your constant. Your prison. Your everything.

#shiyorin's answer #wh40crack #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #romantic stuff in 40k

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milksnake-tea · 10 months

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For the event, Nanook with Augst 8 but instead reader is the one got hurt

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: They come home beaten, bloody, and bruised. ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: nanook ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: implications of physical violence, mentions of bruises and blood, nanook is scary ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: im scared of nanook but also incredibly attracted to them ALSO WHAT IS IT WITH YALL AND ASKING TO GET BEAT UP /LHJ but ykw i know u asked for angst but i kinda made it fluffy imsorry. not really satisified w how this ended but i think its okay

Honestly, whoever did this to you was an idiot.

It was one thing to antagonize the lover of the Destruction. It was another to physically hurt them.

So either your assaulter had a death wish, or a severe deficit in braincells. Although, you weren't too keen on the idea of just running to your lover - knowing them, Nanook would break all of hell loose, giving them a fate worse than death itself.

You sighed to yourself as you rubbed at your cheek, which had already begun to bruise. Thankfully, you weren't hurt too bad, so you could probably just brush it off with a few bandages and ointment. All you had to do was to hope that Nanook wasn't home today.

But of course, fate wasn't on your side.

The second you opened the door to your shared room with the Aeon, what greeted you was a sight of Nanook in their mortal form, lounging on the bed. They weren't doing anything in particular, simply staring up off into space as golden specks flickered around them like fireflies.

Their eyes flicked to you the moment you walked through the doorway. Slowly, their gaze roamed your body, zeroing in on your injuries - evidence of a fight.

Their expression barely changed, save for the slightest narrowing of their eyes. But the atmosphere immediately dampened, as though a black hole had came and sucked all of the air out of the room. The pressure dropped so quickly that your ears popped, and you winced.

Noticing your discomfort, Nanook immediately snapped out of their momentary rage, and the air went back to normal - only slightly, though.

Wordlessly, they beckoned you towards them with a finger, their right arm open for you. Cautiously, you sat down on the bed, allowing Nanook to wrap their arm around you and pull you close.

They studied your bruise carefully, running their finger across it. Swiping their thumb against it, a bit of their power seeped into you, instantly mending your wound.

"Healed by the Destruction," you couldn't help but muse, leaning your head against their broad shoulder. "How ironic. Aren't all Aeons bound their Paths?"

Nanook only hummed, a deep rumbling in their chest. "I've strayed from my Path twice before. The first was when I fell for you. The second is now. Clearly, the laws of the universe are not as rigid as you make them out to be."

"I guess," you shrugged, closing your eyes. Nanook doesn't breathe, nor do they have a heartbeat, but they are warm. Warmer than a human, more like a flame, if anything. "You're not going to ask who did it?"

"I already know," they merely replied. You couldn't help but feel as though their gaze was quite literally burning into your skin as they stared down at you. "I will take care of them, do not worry."

"Don't overdo it," you sighed, shifting into a comfortable position. "The last time you went after someone who hurt me, you destroyed an entire planet."

"I was killing two birds with one stone," they explained matter-of-factly. You laughed, squinting your eyes at them.

"Mmm, I suppose you were," you admitted. Nanook only smiled briefly before poking your nose.

"You should get go wash up," they advised. "You're filthy."

"Gee, thanks," you scoffed, but stood up regardless. You stretched for a bit, rolling out your shoulders before kissing Nanook on the cheek, and then you were off to the bathroom.

But as you closed shower door, and the Aeon heard water running, Nanook's gaze darkened. They dissipated into golden sparks, the only thing that hinted at their existence being a divot in the bed where they had once laid.

That night, as you peacefully rested, unaware of what was happening, your attacker awoke to flames - dark, dark flames devouring their home world as the Destruction watched from afar, the burning planet resting in their dark hand.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #nanook #hsr nanook #nanook x reader #hsr nanook x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #archives 🏵️#event 🏵️

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