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sweetsweetnathan · 4 years

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A Little Prick (Robyn x Yugiri)

[About 1500 words. With great reluctance Robyn begins his training under Yugiri. But to adopt the way of the ninja, Robyn has to first give something up...]

(Previous chapter here)

Loath as Robyn was to accept tutelage from someone whose superiority over him he considered suspect, orders were orders. Robyn returned the next day bright and early in the morning ready to take on whatever challenge Yugiri's training threw at him. For Yugiri's part, she stood out in front of the warehouse they had fought the night before, directing a group of Maelstrom dockhands as they unloaded various supplies for supporting the upcoming operation: Training dummies, training clothes, training weapons, and knives. Lots of knives. And for everything the workers had, Yugiri found a place, turning the abandoned warehouse into the headquarters of the operation... "Whatever that operation actually is," Robyn thought. With this in mind, Robyn sidled up to Yugiri as she gave orders to the workers and mumbled, "So, uh, what is the upcoming operation?" "Good morning, Robyn. That will be revealed when I'm convinced it's actually possible to train you." She said flatly. Robyn was aghast at her skepticism. "What, you think I can't handle learning your little martial arts tricks?" He demanded. Yugiri sighed, "The very fact that you think of them as 'tricks' is a bad sign. Though granted, I perceive your use of 'magic' as a trick. But we must learn to accept our differences in order to better each other." Robyn heard all these words, understood them, and even went so far as to internally appreciate the logic in them. However, Yugiri led her point with that weary sigh. Still slighted against Yugiri's every utterance, he said, "Jeez, you take these things very seriously." Yugiri turned towards him and spoke with immediate bitterness, "Perhaps I was speaking too imprecisely, Robyn. Allow me to rectify that: I said we must learn to accept our differences to better each other. I have accepted these differences. Despite this pointless ill intent you have shown me, I am aware of your history in fighting the Empire. You could be a valuable ally. But now you must decide if you're going to go back to your commanders in the Alliance and tell them you can't be trained, or if you're going to stay here, learn the fighting techniques I have to teach you, and appreciate some damn differences." By the time Yugiri reached her point the workers had overheard, stopped in their work, and turned to gawk at her dressing-down of Robyn. Robyn felt the weight of shame descend harshly upon him. He hated the situation: He knew she was right. He knew he was acting idiotic, irrational, prideful, and worst of all, unproductive. He knew that not only could he be a valuable ally to Yugiri, but Yugiri was there expressly to be an ally to him as well. There was nothing but benefit to what Yugiri was offering him. "But how am I supposed to admit to that?" Robyn wondered. He had worked with people before, but he always kept them at arms-length, never testing the hypothesis formed by his silent superiority complex. Rarely did it come out that he thought of himself as a more powerful mage or more intelligent person than other people. Though he expected if these secret beliefs did become well-known then he wouldn't be working with anyone for long. With Yugiri, however, that aggrandizing perception Robyn had of himself was the first thing she found out about him. And now that someone actually knew about those feelings Robyn didn't actually know how to deal with that person. Robyn's nerves told him to double down, never give her an inch of authority lest she find an opportunity to turn the dynamic against him and make him the inferior one. Possibly the worst part of the whole situation, from Robyn's perspective, was that Yugiri wasn't even looking for such opportunities. She was offering to be equals! "Like that'll ever happen," Robyn thought, "how could it? Let's say she trains me in her combat techniques and somehow fashions my body into a fit, fighting weapon. What could I offer her in return?" Robyn got to thinking about just that... But before Robyn could brood for another moment, the reality of the situation suddenly set in on him. So he shifted uncomfortably under the eyes of Yugiri's workforce and mumbled, "What did you have in mind to practice just today?" Robyn breathed out, relieved that his instincts provided him with these words. He didn't "think" to say this exactly. He was well aware of how moody he was, but related to that temperamental behavior (either caused by it or causing it) was his ability to act with more certainty than he consciously had. And the conclusion they provided was a good one: Robyn feared for being inferior in the face of what Yugiri could provide him. It evoked an instinct to "show her up". Lacking an idea of just how to do that, Robyn was scared. But he decided that he didn't have to show her up just yet. He could bide his time, suffer her training, and do it when the time was right. Yugiri nodded. She wasn't happy with her new protege's enthusiasm, but she was willing to work with it. "Good," she said, "thank you. Although I'll warn you that the first step might be the most unpleasant one." - "Why am I naked?" Robyn asked himself aloud. There was no one in the room with him, so he was comfortable announciating his concerns. "Well I guess I'm not naked. I have a towel. But... Why? Why did the Alliance send me here? Why am I in this humid fucking place lying face-down on a table waiting for my weirdo teacher to tell me what's what? Why?" It was on a table in a back room of the warehouse that Robyn found himself. The sun beat down mercilessly on the warehouse's facade, and the proximity to the ocean turned the building into a muggy sauna. Having grown up in the desert, Robyn found this atmosphere absolutely objectionable. Finally, mercifully, Yugiri opened the door and entered, bringing with her a gust of fresh air and a pair of thin Doman Au Ra women carrying satchels. "Robyn, meet Kokoro and Takaki. They're practitioners of a Doman art called 'acupuncture'. Are you familiar with it?" "Uh. I'm familiar with the theory. I would love for you to explain to me the practical application before you stick anything in me though." Yugiri spoke in a language unfamiliar to Robyn, after which Kokoro and Takaki trotted over to Robyn's flanks. They spoke the same language, smiling at each other. It only made Robyn more tense. Yugiri came and stood close to the table, guiding Robyn from behind to lie flat. "You are quite skilled in magic. Both of us know this. All of your reflexes are tied up in years of training with magic. Casting spells is as much a form of self-expression for you as speaking." "She's quite eloquent." Robyn resisted the thought, but could not help but notice. Yugiri went on, "For that reason we will need to silence your magical abilities if you are to learn the ways of combat." "What?!" Robyn jerked up involuntarily, but lying face-down on a table is not the easiest position to raise oneself from, so Yugiri easily pushed him back down. "Remain calm," her voice was stern, "it is a reversible process. In fact, I have instructed my friends to create a 'fail safe' of sorts." Robyn gritted his teeth and tried to maintain a level head. I was the most self control he had exercised since he had met Yugiri, and it was out of necessity. To put it mildly he did not want to lose access to magic. "Explain to me precisely what you intend to do, Yugiri." "The first half of our days will begin with these acupuncture sessions. They will last four hours, so I have also prepared a tutor to help you begin learning the Doman language during the time you spend immobilized on this table. We will need three weeks of sessions in order to properly condition your body for the fail safe. The acupuncture will paralyze what you know as 'aetheric nodes'. My people call them 'Chakras'. Whatever their name, they seize up under physical strain. My friends will use their needles to induce this state over and over again until it is the natural state of your Chakras. This process is usually undergone by criminals in Doma as a punishment for using magic irresponsibly. But unlike them, you'll have a method of getting your magic back. After three weeks your nodes will be paralyzed, but the rest of your muscles will also be reshaped. That's where the fail safe is: There is a pressure point in the center of your chest that will undo the process if sufficient pressure is placed on it. You can try to press that point yourself, but it's unlikely you'll be able to without a few years of training. Chances are that I am the only one on this side of the planet who can press it. If we find ourselves in over our heads during our operations, I will activate the fail safe and you can use your magic as normal. The second half of our day will be combat training. The style I'll be teaching you is called ninjutsu. It is the art of asymmetrical warfare. We will train with hidden knives, throwing weapons, and study the strategies of espionage. I cannot yet disclose our ultimate goal, but part of the reason you were chosen to undergo this training was because you can blend in better with Imperials than I can. This training is meant to prepare you for fighting suddenly, in close quarters, and in situations where stealth and misdirection are key." So Robyn's ninja training began with session after session of tiny needles piercing Robyn's skin in that boiling-hot room.

#ffxiv #robyn sawyer #yugiri #yugiri mistwalker #ffxiv rp #fan fiction #mywriting

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sun-spark · 6 years

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Depression and Lies, a Relative Truth

Summary: The Truth is Relative, and Deceit knows this, especially when Depression comes to play. Or, depression affects all the sides differently, Roman gets the worst of it and Deceit helps him cope.

Warnings: Oh boy, Depression, self-deprecating thoughts, lies, mentions of anorexia (not in detail), Deceit, Sympathetic Deceit, bruising, mental condition affecting physical body, hella lot of angst, happy-(ish) ending tho.

Notes: This is based on my own experience with depression and my struggle to avoid becoming fully anorexic, as well as my realization the other day that the truth is very relative, especially within the mind of someone with depression. I don’t speak for everyone, this is merely based on my experiences with these issues, no one else’s.

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329058

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Depression may hide the truth, but far worse it may alter what its victim considers to be a lie.

It was the voice that whispered and screamed into the depths of a person’s mind, telling them lies until a point comes when it no longer needs to lie, for to its victim, truth and lie had been reversed.

It affected all the sides without exception, though merely in differing ways.

To Logan it whispered that everything was pointless, that all of his goals were out of reach and he would never learn all he needed to, much less what he wished to. That there was no use in trying. And it continued, to and beyond the point when Logan would become fatigued, body hurting from unexplainable exhaustion.

In Patton’s ear were recountings of bad memories and whispers that he would always fail. Sinister voices that insisted he would never be good enough, couldn’t be since he always hid negative emotions behind a fake smile. In time Patton’s eyes would grow dull, his smile faker, a pain settling in his chest as motivation and joy were drowned under a torrent of sorrow.

Anxiety is called a symptom of Depression by doctors far and wide, when reality in minds like Thomas’s is that Depression heightens anxiety, rather than cause it. Virgil perhaps puts up the most fight against the voices echoing in his head, instincts to protect the other sides and their host winning out for a time. And so it was these instincts that Depression used against him, reiterating that life is pointless, that he could never be good enough, could never protect them, that they and Thomas would be better off without him to cause problems. Depression whispers and screams until fight-or-flight has turned to self-loathing, until tear tracks show on shadows no longer caused by makeup, and red crescents mar the insides of palms.

Despite all this, it is Roman who suffers the most. Creativity is a master at imagining anything he’s told, and the Ego is most easily bruised. Facades of grandeur hide insecurities, shielding fragile self-worth, but Depression slips under these shields easily. It is Roman who gets the most variety, each statement a well-placed dagger:

“You can never create anything good enough for Thomas.”

"You’re hideous and shouldn’t eat so much.”

“You will always fail at protecting the others.”

“How can you protect the others when you hurt Virgil? You’re pathetic and weak.”

“Don’t eat that, you’ll just get fatter.”

“Idiot, you didn’t eat today, go eat something!”

“Now you’ve eaten too much.”

“All your creations are flawed and horrible.”

“You’re a burden. The others would be better off without you.”

“They don’t love you, they never will.”

On and on it went, no lack of insecurities to be attacked, and Roman took it the worst. While Logan became fatigued and couldn’t think, while Patton drowned in sorrow, while Virgil fought not to end it all and never slept, Roman bruised.

Whoever coined the phrase “bruised ego” couldn’t have known how right they were. Normally when an idea was criticized or an insult was thrown at him by Virgil or Logan he came away with tiny discolorations in green and yellow, perhaps in blue and purple, spanning his chest and back and sometimes down his arms, they didn’t know and he kept it hidden…..But Depression was a worse hell. Every comment, every barb and insult from Depression, said in his own voice no less, left large splotches small as fists and large as soccer balls scattered over chest and back, arms and legs. Muted shades of yellow and green, blue and purple, black and red blooming like wrathful flowers. Harsher jabs and crueler words made them spread beyond his torso and limbs, coloring his face and neck.

Worse yet? Roman listened. Roman Sanders was malnourished and underweight, skin almost always a patchwork of bruises, eyes tired and sore from tears, all packed away and hidden behind a blinding smile and a grand princely façade. It was a smile he tried to practice in the mirror, as he did all of his more difficult roles, but the mirror was a dangerous thing, for when he could see his own reflection the voice gained in strength. Mirrors became an unhealthy addiction.

This is where we find the role of Deceit Sanders. Depression afflicts him as well, crowing that he’ll never be loved nor accepted like Virgil, that all he can do is harm the others and Thomas, but strangely, it doesn’t affect him quite as bad.

Depression is a personal hell silent outside your own head….with rare exception.

The others had long ago figured out that Deceit always knew when they lied, but they did not yet know the extent of his strange sixth sense. See, Deceit knew something the others hadn’t quite figured out yet: Truth was a funny thing, and in the realm of one’s own mind the facts cease to matter where the truth is concerned. He was not only aware of anytime the facts were outright denied or twisted, but also of anytime the “truth” was distorted.

Deceit Sanders could only lie to whomever he was speaking to, could only tell them what they would not believe….but he did not always speak in lies when doing so.

This is why part of his role was to care for the others, to protect them. And this is why he once again found himself appearing in Roman’s room while the other was standing before his mirror, gazing sadly at his own shirtless reflection.

“Roman.”

The creative trait did not turn to him but the flinching of his shoulders indicated that he had been heard. Deceit stepped forward slowly, each step accompanied by a statement spoken softly.

“Roman. You are important.” Step.

“Your creations are wonderful.” Step.

“You are good enough.” Step.

"Roman…”

He was behind the other now and he gently wrapped his arms around the princely trait, forehead resting between trembling shoulder blades.

“You are beautiful. You are not overweight nor grotesque. You are incredible.”

And so he continued for a time that may have been minutes or hours, continuing until he felt the malevolent presence abusing his ability lessen and the royal’s shoulder were shaking with silent tears. At this point the half snake trait lifted his head, rested his chin on Roman’s shoulder, and met brown eyes with his own mismatched ones in the mirror.

“You are loved.”

Roman’s eyes remained on his own in the mirror, though Deceit suspected the creative side could no longer see him for the tears running from his eyes.

Deceit would have stayed there, repeating words similar to these until Roman had cried himself to sleep, but he knew that was not to be when he heard the door open, a falsely happy voice calling the prince’s name.

“Roman I- !” Patton cut off abruptly at the sight of Deceit with his arms around a quietly sobbing Roman, mismatched eyes meeting his own from within an expressionless face. Anger lit the moral trait’s features and he stalked forward, grasping Deceit’s wrist roughly and drawing Roman to him more gently, practically dragging them both out the door, questions of concern falling from his lips directed toward Roman who did not answer. He dragged them, or rather dragged Deceit and carried Roman, out to the commons, disturbing both Logan and Virgil. He pulled Deceit to stand by the couch harshly before releasing him, settling a still crying Roman on the couch as the others came closer in alarm.

In the light, Patton saw the sprawling nebulae of bruising and he turned to Deceit angrily while Logan attempted to ascertain the severity of the injuries.

“What did you do?!!” Patton was glaring at him furiously, but Deceit did not respond.

A whimper from Roman at a particularly painful prod from Logan sent the fatherly trait scrambling onto the couch to wrap his arms gently around Roman. Logan fetched some wraps and ice and ignored everyone while he applied them to the worst of the bruising. Virgil merely watched the deceptive trait in silent consideration.

Patton was running a hand through Roman’s hair repetitively, attempting to comfort him while he spoke to Deceit.

“Why would you do this to Roman?! What did you even do to cause this short of beating him?!!”

Deceit shrugged with one shoulder, tamping down his emotions.

“I did not tell him that he is important and loved.”

Virgil still had his eyes trained on him shrewdly and he raised a brow curiously, voice oddly calm in all of this. “A, how the hell could you tell him that since you can only lie, and B, why the hell would that hurt him?”

Deceit stared at Virgil helplessly, trying to figure out how to explain, but Patton gave him no chance, anger overwhelming the normally soft heart.

“It doesn’t matter! He can’t just do something like this to Roman! I don’t know what the heck we ever did to you- !”

Something in Deceit snapped and he leaned down swiftly, grasping the moral trait’s jaw in his hand, making him fall silent and forcing him to look at him. Logan eyed him warily while Virgil took a single step forward on reflex, still watching and assessing. Deceit payed them no mind as Patton fell silent and glared into Deceit’s mismatched eyes. Deceit had had enough.

“I caused this.” He let that sink in a moment, seeing Patton’s eyes widen. “The truth is not relative. I can not only speak to one of you what you believe to be a lie.” He saw Logan’s expression turn to one of mild shock as understanding dawned on him, but he kept his eyes on Patton’s. “I did not tell Roman that he is beautiful, nor did I tell him that his ideas and creations are wonderful, nor did I tell him that he is loved.”

He stared Patton in the eye for a moment, seeing surprise and guilt mingle in brown orbs, before releasing the other’s jaw and turning on his heel, not giving time for a response.

He met Virgil’s eyes as he passed and saw the other watching him in an appraising and calculating manner. He walked on, told himself that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care. And if, as he walked away, a little voice in the back of his head told him that they would never accept him or love him….well, he ignored it. The truth is relative after all.

Fin

Tags - If you want to be added to my tag list or have a writing/drawing request, drop an ask in my inbox!

@emospacegeekvirgil @modcarbz @illogical-anxieties @redrosella @chipminkle @neonwaffleninja @residentanchor @kanejandkruge @itsneverthateasy @a-pastel-pan

Y’all were supposed to get my witch Virgil drawing, which is done, but I wanted to post a fic instead, so I hope you enjoy it?

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wandering-through-wonder-land · 6 years

Text

Depression and Lies, a Relative Truth.

Warnings: Oh boy, Depression, self-deprecating thoughts, lies, mentions of anorexia (not in detail), Deceit, Sympathetic Deceit, bruising, mental condition affecting physical body.

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329058

@anxiousangelvirgil

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Depression may hide the truth, but far worse it may alter what its victim considers to be a lie.

It affected all the sides without exception, though merely in differing ways.

“You can never create anything good enough for Thomas.”

"You’re hideous and shouldn’t eat so much.”

“You will always fail at protecting the others.”

“How can you protect the others when you hurt Virgil? You’re pathetic and weak.”

“Don’t eat that, you’ll just get fatter.”

“Idiot, you didn’t eat today, go eat something!”

“Now you’ve eaten too much.”

“All your creations are flawed and horrible.”

“You’re a burden. The others would be better off without you.”

“They don’t love you, they never will.”

Depression is a personal hell silent outside your own head….with rare exception.

Deceit Sanders could only lie to whomever he was speaking to, could only tell them what they would not believe….but he did not always speak in lies when doing so.

“Roman.”

The creative trait did not turn to him but the flinching of his shoulders indicated that he had been heard. Deceit stepped forward slowly, each step accompanied by a statement spoken softly.

“Roman. You are important.” Step.

“Your creations are wonderful.” Step.

“You are good enough.” Step.

"Roman…”

He was behind the other now and he gently wrapped his arms around the princely trait, forehead resting between trembling shoulder blades.

“You are beautiful. You are not overweight nor grotesque. You are incredible.”

“You are loved.”

Roman’s eyes remained on his own in the mirror, though Deceit suspected the creative side could no longer see him for the tears running from his eyes.

In the light Patton saw the sprawling nebulae of bruising and he turned to Deceit angrily while Logan attempted to ascertain the severity of the injuries.

“What did you do?!!” Patton was glaring at him furiously, but Deceit did not respond.

Patton was running a hand through Roman’s hair repetitively, attempting to comfort him while he spoke to Deceit.

“Why would you do this to Roman?! What did you even do to cause this short of beating him?!!”

Deceit shrugged with one shoulder, tamping down his emotions.

“I did not tell him that he is important and loved.”

Deceit stared at Virgil helplessly, trying to figure out how to explain, but Patton gave him no chance, anger overwhelming the normally soft heart.

“It doesn’t matter! He can’t just do something like this to Roman! I don’t know what the heck we ever did to you- !”

He stared Patton in the eye for a moment, seeing surprise and guilt mingle in brown orbs, before releasing the other’s jaw and turning on his heel, not giving time for a response.

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