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thephantomessoftheopera · 3 years

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Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 13: “Apollo’s Lyre”

Image of the Apollo statue on the rooftop of the Palais Garnier from Wikimedia Commons

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The chapter “Apollo’s Lyre” constitutes the basis for the “rooftop scene” between Raoul and Christine in the ALW version, but in the book, it is really all about Erik. It’s quite possibly the most important chapter in the novel because we meet our title hero face-to-face for the first time, and because Erik overhearing Christine‘s plan to escape provides a turning-point for the plot.

The symbol of Apollo's Lyre is not only present in the Apollo statue on the highest point of the rooftop (that Erik is supposedly clinging to here), but also adorns the chandelier both in the Palais Garnier and in the original production of the musical.

At the end of the preceding chapter, Raoul had vowed to take Christine away, but she is still at war with herself about the idea. She wants to leave because she is afraid, but at the same time, warns Raoul that he will probably need to force her to leave since she isn’t emotionally ready to let go:

““But if I refuse to go with you when the time comes for you to take me away, you must make me go!” [...] she spoke these words with a forcefulness that seemed to be directed against herself.”

Every time Raoul offers to take her away right then and there, Christine refuses with an excuse of why it’s not possible to leave just now. Yet she is afraid that the next time she goes to Erik, she may never leave again. Erik seems to make her feel very deeply - but too much feeling can be very terrifying, especially if it’s a wild ride on that emotional rollercoaster of ecstasy, horror, pity, despair and passion that he sends her on. It’s no wonder she rationally wants to get out before it consumes her, and yet is afraid of losing it.

While she begins telling Raoul the whole story from her perspective, they repeatedly think they hear sighs, but still remain in the same place. This is a bit odd, considering how they kept running around before, but now, Christine insists that they stay, which is a bit curious. It is possible that she thought they were safe - but considering her general unwillingness to leave, I think it is even possible that she might be subconsciously sabotaging her own escape plan.

When Christine speaks about how she first met Erik, it becomes clear that masquerading as the Angel of Music was not initially Erik‘s idea. When Christine heard Erik in her dressing-room for the first time three months ago, he sang and spoke to her like a real man, except that he had this beautiful angelic voice and was hiding in the passage behind her room, so that he could not be seen. The first person to suggest that he might indeed be the Angel of Music is Mama Valerius, who prompts Christine to ask Erik if he is the Angel her father had sent for her. Erik jumps at the opportunity presented to him and confirms that her assumption is correct, and asks if she will let him teach her. She consents, and together they make amazing progress, developing both Christine’s technique and her inspiration to hitherto unknown heights.

One day, Christine sees Raoul at the Opera, and eagerly tells Erik about it. I bet he bitterly cursed himself then for passing himself off as an Angel, leaving enough space in Christine’s heart for a real man. But his threats to leave cause her to despair and to try to ignore Raoul - also because a marriage to him would be out of her reach anyway. Now it’s Erik’s turn to whine and accuse Christine of being in love with Raoul in the same way we’ve seen Raoul do before. But just like with Raoul, she won’t have that and even challenges Erik that she will ask Raoul to accompany her to Perros. According to her, Erik’s jealous reaction made her realize that she loved Raoul. I wonder if madly jealous Raoul also made her realize that she might possibly be just a little bit in love with two very different men?

Subconsciously, she seems to kind of know already that Erik is not really an angel, because when the chandelier falls, she is half-mad with panic and terribly afraid that it may have killed “the Voice” (and it would be a bit difficult to kill a heavenly being even if you dropped a chandelier on it). She also admits that then, Raoul and Erik were both “the equal halves of her heart” (and I think they still are, beneath all the complications that have arisen in the meantime). She runs to her dressing-room because that is where she is most likely to find “the Voice”, and when she hears the sounds of Erik singing and playing the “Resurrection of Lazarus” on his violin, she follows his voice through the mirror without being able to say how exactly she disappeared through it. She suddenly finds herself being gripped by a man in a black cloak and a full-face mask and tries to fight back, but then faints. When she wakes, she is resting on the ground near a fountain, and Erik is gently tending to her, but doesn’t reply to her questions so as not to give himself away as “the Voice”. Christine recognizes César the horse, and realizes that even though she never believed in the ghost, she had heard the rumours about him stealing the horse.

Erik takes Christine to the house by the lake, first on César’s back (that’s what he needed the horse for, after all) and then in the famous boat (which is rowed in the novel). She is no longer terrified, but feels strangely peaceful - an effect which she attributes to the possibility of having been drugged, even though she admits that at the same time, she was still in full possession of her senses.

“Lake Averne”, the name of the lake under the Opera House, is a play on words as well as meaning. First, “lac averne” is almost the same as “la caverne”, which means “the cavern”. There is also a real lake named “Lago d’Averno” in Italy, and in Roman mythology, that lake is one of the entrances to the Underworld. This fits with the fact that Erik also bears characteristics of Charon, the ferryman to the Underworld, whose name can be literally translated as “with glowing eyes”. The iconic boat ride certainly resembles the passage into the Hades, which is even alluded to in the novel.

The water tank below the Palais Garnier. Image from atlasobscura.com

Let’s stay in the Underworld for a moment. “The Phantom of the Opera” can also be seen as a variation on the story of Hades and Persephone (Christine’s ship in “Love Never Dies” is not called “Persephone” for nothing). Hades, the god of the Underworld, fell in love with the young and beautiful Persephone and wanted to marry her, but as the goddess of spring, she wasn’t willing to abandon the world above and go to live in the Underworld. Therefore Hades abducted her, she finally consented to marry him and became queen of the Underworld. Due to the intervention of her infuriated mother Demeter, it was finally decided that she would divide her time between living on earth for some months every year and living in the Underworld for the rest of the time.

When they arrive, Erik sets a confused Christine down in his brightly lit drawing-room, which has been decorated with an enormous amount of golden baskets full of flowers. It is not quite clear where all the flowers come from, so I guess he bought them all for her. With a salary of 20,000 francs, he could probably afford the luxury of spending so much on flower decorations… He tells her that she is in no danger, as long as she doesn’t touch his mask. When Christine realizes that the Voice is not an angel, she starts crying. Erik then kneels down in front of her and proceeds to tell her without further ado who he is, begs her to forgive him, and lays his heart at her feet. He confesses how much he loves her, and how wrong his actions were, but that he did everything out of love for her. It seems that Erik was rather anxious to reveal the truth that he is not really the Angel of Music and end his deception, but at the same time, was waiting for an opportunity that would allow him to explain everything without the risk of her running away from him forever. Keep in mind that he took on the role of the Angel of Music for just a couple of months, not years as it is commonly assumed.

Christine then stands up to demand her freedom, and is taken aback when he actually concedes it to her, telling her that she is free to leave. But after all, she does not leave because he starts to play the harp and sing for her. The piece he is singing here is the “Canzone del Salice” from Rossini’s “Otello”, in which Desdemona laments the cruelty of love. It is often assumed that the „Otello“ Leroux is referencing here is the more famous “Otello” by Verdi, but that one didn’t premiere until 1887, while the story is definitely set before 1886. Furthermore, Rossini’s version of the “willow song” is the only one that starts with a harp solo. The song is included in the playlist, listen to it here:

https://open.spotify.com/track/25ILZhCIWIRjJVK8SqDWzn?si=U5EPiO_ySBOlIy5XvI1BGw&dl_branch=1

The next morning, Christine awakes on the couch in „her“ bedroom (aka the “Louis-Philippe room”) where Erik must have carried her after she had fallen asleep. When she can‘t get out, she suffers a fit of hysterics, although it seems that she has simply been unable to locate the door set within the wall. Erik has been out shopping for her, which is a rather cute scene when he comes back with all the boxes for her while she yells at him. He calmly tells her to get ready for lunch, and she slams the door in his face so she can take a bath in peace. She places a pair of scissors within reach so that she could kill herself if Erik “stopped behaving like an honourable man”. Her concern is understandable, being alone with the man who is madly in love with her, however it is important to note that Erik never physically forces himself on her throughout the story.

Remarkably, Erik’s house had both hot and cold running water, something that was still very rare then, which suggests that he actually lived in better hygienic conditions than most people at that time, and that he was a skilled engineer.

When she finally joins him, he tells her that she does not need to be afraid, and that all he asks for is that she will spend 5 days with him. After that, he hopes that she will come back to see “poor Erik” from time to time, shedding a few tears beneath his black mask as he speaks. He serves Christine lunch in the drawing-room, consisting of crayfish, chicken wings and Tokay wine, but he himself does again not eat or drink. From their conversation, we learn that Erik has taken on his name “by chance”, whatever that means. The meaning of the name is “sole ruler” which is quite fitting for him.

When Christine has finished eating, Erik invites her to see his room, and she doesn’t hesitate as she instinctively trusts him. Apparently Erik has a very gothic taste as far as room decorating goes, and all this also plays heavily into the death symbolism of his character. Erik sleeping in a coffin is reminiscent of vampire stories, especially because it seems to be a choice and not a necessity. There is also an organ with the score of “Don Juan Triumphant” on it, written in Erik’s customary red ink(?). Erik tells her that he started composing it 20 years ago. Christine asks him to play her something from his “Don Juan”, but Erik refuses because “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”. It is quite significant that the “sing for me” motif is absent from the novel version, in contrast to the ALW version where it is very strong. Erik, in the novel, has no plans for Christine to sing any of his music. He wants her companionship and her love, and he wants to sing together with her and lose himself in their shared passion for music, but he definitely does not see her as an instrument of sorts. He did help advance her career, but not with the intention of having her perform his work.

Erik makes it clear that his own music is very different from Mozart’s „Don Giovanni“ and from “opera music” in general. “Don Juan Triumphant” can be seen as an allusion to Lord Byron’s epic poem “Don Juan” (in which, incidentally, Don Juan is sold as a slave to the sultana of Constantinople).

He sits down at the piano and starts singing the duet from “Otello” with Christine. There is of course more than one duet in “Otello”, but this one is most likely “Non arrestare il colpo/Notte per me funesta” from Act III (here: https://open.spotify.com/track/151M60b3qxzqKLDFwIVuUB?si=WX4TDWCeQVmIChqd6u7CyQ&dl_branch=1 and here: https://open.spotify.com/track/2Ep1OncGZCNR9yFevG6Pb6?si=QzG2JztuQ42MDoiVrLAaew&dl_branch=1 ) In this scene, Othello accuses Desdemona of betraying him, while she tries to convince him that she is innocent. She realizes that she has fallen victim to Iago’s plot, but Othello does not believe her and stabs her. This opera, for once, is in Italian, while most of the other pieces that appear in the “Phantom” are sung in French.

The unmasking in the novel happens while Christine is swept up in the passion of her duet with Erik. She “stepped closer to him, attracted and fascinated, enticed by the idea of dying at the center of such passion. But before dying [she] wanted to see his face…”

It’s not like she is sneaking up to him out of pure curiosity, but rather reacting to an instinctive wish to pull away the barrier between them. The scene is even more tragic because with a normal face, the passionate mood that Christine was in would have potentially led to her kissing him. But sadly, his face is anything but normal, so Christine recoils in horror instead. Erik’s reaction to the unmasking is violent and horrific as he goes mad with rage at her, even hurting his own face with her fingernails - an expression of his self-loathing. Throughout the scene, Christine seems fixated on the horror of his face more than his behaviour, though. Ashamed of himself, Erik crawls out of the room and shuts himself up in his bedroom.

“Apollo’s Lyre” by Annie Stegg Gerard

Erik’s appearance as described in the novel is indeed bordering the realm of the fantastic and supernatural. He is so stuffed with death symbolism that it is hard to take everything literally. Christine’s description makes it rather hard to see him as “real” because he seems to look like something straight out of a nightmare.

It is important to note that Erik is not just run-of-the-mill ugly, but that he is very clearly associated with death in many ways - from sleeping in a coffin and having funeral-style decor in his room to actually looking like a „living corpse“. Erik and Christine can be seen as a literal expression of the artistic topos „death and the maiden“, which especially towards the end of the 19th century associated death very strongly with the erotic (see https://eclecticlight.co/2020/01/05/paintings-for-our-time-death-and-the-maiden/ for a very good overview of the motif). Death here is usually represented as either a skeleton or corpse, or as an angel - which is very much in line with Leroux’s Erik.

”Girl and Death” by Edvard Munch

Combined with the fact that Erik‘s music creates feelings of passion, rapture and ecstasy in Christine, it is not a big stretch to conclude that Erik is associated not only with death, but also with sexuality. The duality of sex as both a life-creating and life-threatening force was acutely perceived by the people of that period. Love and death are connected, and both are represented in Erik‘s character. ALW‘s musical adaptation recognized this strongly erotic undercurrent in the story and translated it very aptly into songs such as „Music of the night“ or „Point of no return“. The way in which Christine describes her lessons with Erik - that they “awakened an ardent, voracious, and sublime life” in her, and made her live in a “kind of ecstatic dream” can also be interpreted as her romantic awakening, with all the frightening emotional chaos attached to it.

Raoul, on the other hand, is more associated with purity and propriety - which is reflected in how he views Christine, and the standards that she must conform to in his opinion.

Before seeing Erik’s face, Christine admits that she *would* have come back, but that now, she would never return because “you don’t go back into a grave with a corpse that loves you”. Note how she switches from the first person to the impersonal “you” in this sentence - “you” might not do that, but we already know she did in fact go back more than once. And she is still able to see something of the angel in him because he does not take advantage of the situation, but leaves her alone, turning to his music again.

And then, “music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. Erik starts playing the finale of “Don Juan Triumphant” where “ugliness, lifted on the wings of love, had dared to look beauty in the face”. Through the music, Christine can glimpse into the depths of Erik’s heart and soul, feel his torment and suffering, and is overwhelmed with compassion.

Once again, she is the one to tear down the wall between them. She pushes open the door to Erik’s room and asks him to show his face, sincerely thinking that she can handle it - but it turns out, she really isn’t quite able to when there’s no music between them. But she manages to put on a brave facade and lie to him about being able to look at him without horror. She despises herself for her lies, but then she also does what she must in order to be set free. Erik takes her for walks along the shore of the underground lake, and for carriage rides to the Bois de Boulogne (that’s where they ran into Raoul in Chapter 9). After two weeks, Erik finally trusts her so much that he is willing to set her free (with conditions, of course). It’s really heartbreaking when she mentions how he dared to try to make her look at him even when he wasn’t singing, like a “timid dog”. At this point, he is in her power just as much as she is in his.

When she finally leaves, she is moved more by his tears than by his threats, and his pain is what gets her to come back in the first place: “Those sobs attached me to him more strongly than I thought when I said good-bye to him.” Part of why she is afraid to leave is that she fears it will kill him if she leaves him.

At the end of the chapter, Raoul asks the fateful question that sums up the tragedy of Erik and Christine:

“You’re afraid, but do you love me? If Erik were handsome, would you love me?” “Why tempt fate, Raoul? Why ask about things that I keep hidden at the back of my mind, like sins?”

Christine’s reply along the lines of “Don‘t ask” was cut from the de Mattos translation. It clearly evidences that Christine has conflicted feelings for Erik that go beyond only horror or pity, and that she prefers to suppress them so she doesn't have to deal with them. The statement also shows that if Erik had not been cursed with his face, then things might have looked very different for him and Christine. Attentive readers of de Mattos might nevertheless notice that her next line „If I did not love you, I would not give you my lips“ evades addressing the „what ifs“ Raoul posed, but it still makes her appear less conflicted than she really is. Christine’s heart is a pretty deep ocean of secrets, and at the back of her mind, there seem to be quite a few things that she is unwilling to admit to herself, as Raoul suspected before:

“You obviously love him, and your fear, your terror - all that is still love, of the most exciting kind! The kind you don’t admit to yourself.”

I haven‘t really counted, but this must be like the fifth time that Raoul insists on his suspicion that Christine is in love with Erik, and he just can‘t get a „no“ out of her. That “no” is given very directly though when he asks her if she hates him. She kisses Raoul to prove that she loves him, at the same time telling him that the kiss is just a one-time thing („for the first and last time“). Then “the night is torn apart”, and the last thing they see is a pair of glowing eyes looking down on them from Apollo’s lyre - which are clearly Erik’s, who has overheard the entire conversation…

Image from wikipedia

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#phantom of the opera #leroux phantom #lerouxreadingguide #gaston leroux #erik x christine #erik the phantom #erik in love #christine daae #the phantom of the opera #opera ghost #apollo‘s lyre #leroux #the phantom #raoul de chagny #poto

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pink-purplesunset · 3 years

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A light cannot exist without shadow.

Before the history that people like you and I know, Gods walked the Earth like common man. Virgin lands laid untouched and unbroken, waters ran clear and free of debris. Gods had a much simpler view on life. Many things as well as what happened to mere mortals, left them unbothered. Because of this, they then chose to leave the land, returning to the sky. In their wake they left their children to rule Earth, to keep it from ending in chaos.

There were two sides both ruled by family blood, one of light, the other of dark. The first born, named Jin, came to be known as a being of darkness, an evil no one had seen before. Soon many others who shared that same deep iniquity began to follow him, morphing into what the people called Dreadlings. They took a form stuck between light and dark, eventually forming the largest army of men and women on the planet. With this power Jin ruled the planet and for many years all people knew was darkness.

Years later, his sister gracefully named Nabi, was born. She radiated light, love and all that is good and had come into the world as a bright beacon for many. Her union onto Earth had been celebrated, a prophecy had been filled giving many the courage to stand up to the darkness that had overtaken the land. Nabi was quickly labeled their savior, and thrust into the role of Earth's Guardian.

Contradictory to might you may think, both sides united as one.

With a small army Nabi confronted her brother, her charms and purity quickly talking him down from his horrid reign. From that day both siblings remained close and confided in each other to rule to planet as two instead of one. Peace was to remain on both sides for the remainder of their immortal lives, both making agreements to never harm one another.

Many years later is where this story begins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On an ordinary day, one with warm winds and feathery skies, a hummed song hangs in the air, coming from a figure that bathes in a waterfall nearby. The area is secluded on each side by natural rocks and tall pine trees, a field of colorful wild flowers blanketing the surrounding area.

Nabi runs her fingers through silvery locks, sighing in ecstasy when the cold-water leaves goosebumps on her skin in contrast to the warm sun. She was used to days like this, with birds chirping in her ear and the smell of wild mint in the air.

Every day was almost completely the same for her and had been since her descend onto Earth.

She would be awoken by one of her chambermaids, they would help her into a morning steam, feed her, brush her hair and adorn her in clothes and jewelry that were made by the God Plutus, a regular gift she would receive from her family to praise her for getting along with her brother. Then she would be whisked off to play the role of mediator and politician, listening to the complaints and opinions of the people, an event the Primary Gods had suggested to keep the people happy, only to then be ushered into the Chapel to be broadcasted across the world giving the morning prayers. Something enforced by the clergy so that the Primary Gods would not be forgotten. By noon, she was off to some lectures which gave her more insight on how the common man lived, giving her a looks at which areas of the world needed her healing the most.

She lived this life everyday without stray. Until recently.

She, her brother and their armies, where the only being on Earth that could manipulate reality. Nabi could control elements, weather, the human body and much more. Her brother could do the same but in opposite effects. She found herself free time under the mask of ability training.

A few hours before dusk she would visit the stable under disguise and gallop off on her favorite friesian outside the kingdom walls to a place she only knew. Here she could be herself, do what she wanted and imagine a life where she was normal. A life where she would be able to find a love, have kids and a simple job before coming home for the night to a family.

This became her new normal.

Gradually her brother began to find out, only giving her a mild scolding before focusing on the many tasks that encompassed a a kingdom. Eventually as she would sneak out more and was caught, the scolding became punishment.

There was many rules amongst her life and one of them was never letting someone outside the inner walls of the palace to see her appearance. She was a goddess of purity, anyone who started to lust after her could taint her aura, eventually turning her into a being like her brother. The Primary Gods demanded balance, she was to never be tainted or it would bring the end to her and her brother.

But Nabi had a rebellious soul. She would continue to sneak out, no matter what her brother threatened.

Nabi sighed in delight once again as the water left small pools on her body, smiling when she noticed a curious bystander near the entrance to her secluded area. She knew him well, a soldier sided with the light and a fierce warrior she had watched from the sidelines for some time now. He had been drawn in by the sweet sound of her voice before, something he could not resist. He had visited her often within the past months, giving her something, someone, to look forward to.

She knew he could not see much of her as the waterfall did well to give her a natural veil, all to be seen was her hair, as it twinkled like stars whenever the light caught it. She watched as he stared in wonder, still oblivious to her own. She abruptly stopped the humming and stepped out of the running water allowing her eyes to peer into his own, which now were splayed wide with fear.

It was absolute law never to approach or see the Guardian unless given clearance, offenders would face the wrath of Jin aka death.

Before he could run, Nabi let out a small chuckle making him stop in his tracks. She held eye contact with him, not bothering to dress in her robes before she walked forward.

He had seen her like this before.

"You came to see me again." She smiled.

Not believing his senses the man remained frozen. Nabi made her way directly in front of him, in all her glory. She continued to smile, trying to fill the man with ease.

"You are Jimin correct?" Her features remained soft and her eyes twinkled. "You should really try and hide yourself more, I catch you being here everytime." He continued to gape at her, not sure of how to react. "It's nice to meet you again." She added with a grin, her hand glided from her side to grab his.

Jimin gulped and continued to stare at her flawless skin.

"I- I did not mean to oppose on you Guardian."

He then diverted his eyes down, not mustering the courage to bring his hand away from hers.

With a small laugh Nabi pulled him closer to her. Her unoccupied hand came up and began stroking the man's hair. Causing Jimin to hold his breath.

"It's alright." She laughs. "you being here tends to make my day." She hugged him a little closer, always eager for a warm embrace. "Besides... I happen to know that you like being here too."

Within her embrace she allows the memories she had taken from him to flow back. With a small gasp Jimin brings his eyes back to hers.

Nabi laughs at the familiar reaction.

"Please stay." She whispers once she recognizes the familiar lust that settles in his eyes.

Jimin lets out the breath he was holding and pushes away from her in shock.

"Am I not to be punished?!" He spoke loudly. Causing Nabi's smile to slip. "Isn't this breaking the law?!

Putting back on her smiley mask, she puts both hands over the man's mouth. She could never get used to his reaction, even after experiencing it many times.

"My brother is not here and you side with me. Fear nothing."

She takes her hands away and wraps one around his wrist dragging him backwards with her into the water.

"Come now."

Nabi frowns when he is not looking as she is running behind schedule now and her guards will soon come looking for her.

Jimin does nothing but comply, hushed by her words and newly acquired memories serving him well. When both are fully under the roaring waterfall, he smiles at the small invisible bubble protecting them from the heavy water above. He eyes Nabi from head to toe before capturing her lips in his. She smiles at him in childish wonderment before diving back into him for more. His hands begin to move over her body, ghosting over her nipples to pull a moan from her. He bites her lip as he smiles although it begins to fall.

"Please don't take these memories away from me again." He asks in a pleading whisper.

He looks into her eyes and can tell she's hiding from him.

From yards away both of them can hear the footfalls of horses.

"I'm afraid we must part now." She breathes out, distancing herself but catching his hands in hers once again. "Please visit again, I really miss you when you're gone."

A sadness overtakes Jimin's face but is quickly replaced with panic as Nabi places her hand on his forehead and wipes the memories of their meeting from his mind. She places him gently on the dry moss below them, her magic still protecting the area from the water above.

With one final look she once again leaves the waterfall and dresses in time for her guards to appear through the trees. One dressed in gold ornate armor, displaying her own insignia, the other made up in an armor of volcanic rock that somehow still glows red hot.

"You know the entire palace begins to panic in your absence." States the one in gold. He looks to his side where Jin's soldier stands. "Please do not force me out here with one of the Dreadlings again."

Nabi smiles and begins to walk towards the two.

"Where would the kingdom be without you playing my babysitter Hobi?" She allows them to place her veil over her head and help her onto her horse. "Although I do agree that my brother did not have to send one of his own." She squints at the heat radiating off the man as she looks at him. "The fresh air must feel like poison to you V."

The dark soldier remains stoic and leaves to mount his own horse with no reply.

"Always a man of many words." Remarks Hobi as they all set off towards the palace.

The ride takes them down the steep mountainside, through a forest of large cedars and along the edge of the wall that surrounds the kingdom. They tactfully stop at a spot on the northside of the wall, where Nabi is able to manipulate some loose rock and allow a gap big enough for them to walk through with their horses.

"How will your brother feel knowing you have left the walls again?" V finally speaks up once they are inside.

Nabi just smiles and closes the wall behind them.

"Why must you threaten me with this same line every time you're forced to fetch me? We both know you don't plan on telling him. "

V sighs and continues to peer forwards, knowing too that she speaks the truth. After a few more minutes sulking he again speaks up.

"You rely too much on the false relationship you've created for us in your head. You know who I remain loyal to."

Nabi giggles and shakes off the remark.

"Ok, Ok Mr. IHateFriendshipandLove. I will believe your words from now on until proven otherwise." She rides up closer to him and whispers "I'll tell the chefs to serve japchae in the commissary tonight." He shivers from their closeness while with a wink she makes her way away from him and towards Hobi.

After follows a few minutes of silence with the exception of chuckles she and Hobi share in their own conversation. V then clears his throat, edging his horse on to get closer to the two. He makes sure to make eye contact with Nabi.

"Although I do not appreciate the endearment of friendship, I will gladly accept the food."

He then hurries his horse forward.

Behind him, Nabi and Hobi share another knowing look and a small laugh as they continue to the gate of the palace. It is a massive structure, half white, half black marble, with gold welded gates connecting it's center. On all sides it is guarded by a mix of gold and black clade soldiers.

"May the dark bring forth the light!" All the soldiers shout when they identify her and draw the gate upwards.

Entering, Nabi breaks off from her two escorts, turning in her saddle to address the two men.

"You guys can head back to the barracks, I can take it from here."

Hobi gives her a deliberate glare.

"Promise to appear before your brother as soon as possible so he does not kill us both and NO more adventures today." He makes sure to point at her to add emphasis.

Nabi rolls her eyes. "I would never allow him to do such a thing." Hobi opens his mouth ready to retort. "-But I promise to see him to save you both from his nagging."

"Thank you, milady." Hobi jeers with a silly bow, still on his horse. "Now stay out of trouble and I shall see you later after dinner." He gives a big wave and follows V towards the side of the palace where workers and military are housed.

"Let's go Lucent." She pats her horse's shoulder and gives him a small squeeze to continue to the stable she and Jin shared.

Like usual, the overly decorated palace yards were occupied by the gardeners that kept it looking clean and the pious followers that would used the gardens as a place to pray. Regardless of who they were, when they noticed Nabi, they would drop what they were doing to pay respect to her. Something she did not always enjoy. Finally making her way towards the royal wing and the stables that connected to it, she was met by her stable hand Yoongi with is arms crossed.

"Overstayed your time outside again I see." He uncrossed his arms and grabbed her horse by the bridle. "I should have known something was up when Lucent was gone from his stall again this morning." He gave a small smile while petting the horse on his nose. He looked up to Nabi "Do you want me to put him away for you?"

Nabi dismounted and gave Lucent a big hug around his neck.

"Yes, thank you. You're once again a lifesaver Yoongi." She let go of the horse and handed the reins over to him. "I'm unfortunately late to a meeting to humor my brother right now, as it seems everyone in the palace knows I was outside again."

"You're not exactly secretive about it anymore." Yoongi states.

Nabi gives him a cheeky smile. Yoongi clears his throat and begins to take care of the horse. "Sorry Guardian, I'll just be on my way."

He walks away and glances behind him to see Nabi gathering her long robes and hurriedly walking up the many steps that led to the entrance of the colossal palace.

Nabi could hear Yoongi's small laugh from behind her as she went, making her smile.

Many of the palace workers that recognized her would too stop what they were doing to bow, she would do her best to do the same with her hurried pace. Not even bothering to change out of her normal robes, a somewhat dull look compared to her usual attire to help her blend in, as she ran to find the door to her brother's room.

Stepping inside, she was met with a brotherless room. She wrapped her arms around herself, needing a source of comfort to prepare her for the talk she was about to get. There was nothing dark and scary about the place, but it still caused a cold chill to run down her back and the hairs on her arms raise. The room was very well kept considering Jin did not let any workers into the room or around his belongings. As she walked further in, the corner of the room drew Nabi's attention where a large canvas sat, the first few details of a panting started. There was a deep emotion attached to it, something dark and consuming, as well as many other feelings she was unable to be explain, it was all lost to her. On the painting, all she could make out was a figure in gold armor, the face all too familiar.

"Do you like it?" Jin whispered out of nowhere making her jump.

"Brother." She breathes out, spinning to face him, holding her heart. "I was just admiring what you've started."

Jin faces the painting but looks towards Nabi out of the corner of his eye.

"I needed something to do when I cannot sleep. My dreams have not been kind recently."

One of Jin's individual traits was seeing the future in his dreams.

"I told you to come find me when you are troubled." Nabi worries over him and places a hand on his forearm.

Jin places his hand over her own.

"It is but a small issue for the time being, the dreams change daily. You know I'd come to you if it were anything important."

Nabi looks to her brother as he further studies the mostly empty canvas. The bad feelings inside her grow worse.

"I sense something growing, it radiates around the room. It makes me sick to my stomach." She barely speaks out loud.

Jin shows no further emotion but she can tell he fakes a smile as he turns to her again.

"I doubt it has anything to do with the otherworldly. I shall send one of your maidens to get you a medicine. Go rest and try not to venture too far from the walls again."

Nabi froze, hoping to skip the scolding today.

"I'm sorry-"

Jin raises a hand to stop her.

"I sent another to watch you. A little birdy had told me V has been less than useful lately."

Nabi tries to show no fear in her features but couldn't withhold her good nature.

"You didn't hurt him, did you?"

Jin looks to the ground with a small laugh but his eyes snap to her full of rigidness.

"My soldiers should be none of your concern sister."

A very uncommon emotion for Nabi started to rear its head. She clenched her fists to her side, nails digging into her palms.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" She breathes out trying to calm herself. "Do I not rule this kingdom by your side? Are we not equals?" She steps further into his space. "Tell me if he's hurt so I can help him."

Jin closes the gap between them, capturing her chin between his fingers.

"You know better than to speak to me that way. Know your place girl and do not test me."

She pushes away from his grasp but does not retreat.

"Know my place?! You are nothing without me." She growls.

Jin looked to her with a raised brow, a smirk growing, he breaks the tension with loud claps.

"Now this is a side of you I've rarely seen, let's hope your holy followers in the palace have not heard." He crosses his arms, his right hand playing with his chin in thought. "Although I quite like this side of you." His sickening smile grows.

Nabi comes back to reality quickly, a little shocked herself.

"I-I'm sorry brother." She holds her hands close to her chest. Panic setting her pulse ablaze. "It's this room it makes me...on edge. I do not understand these emotions I'm feeling."

Jin gives her a dismissive gesture, Nabi could not help but feel as though he had meant this meeting to go this way. Like he had expected her to act in such a way.

"Apology accepted." He grabs her by the shoulders and aims her towards the door. "Leave me and get some rest. I'll help the cooks make your favorite soup for dinner."

Nabi turns to hug her brother, not used to small spats with him.

"I love you brother."

Jin lets out a small sigh but answers back.

"As do I sister."

She did not feel any emotion behind the words.

He gently pulls her off himself and walks her to his door. Nabi shows herself out as he closes the door behind her. She catches her lip in her teeth trying to understand the interaction that happened minutes ago, her mind drawing a blank. She can count on one hand the amount of times she has felt anger before, and each has left her with a sense of amnesia. Her soul was not made to house such an emotion. She was created to do and spread good, not to wish harm among others.

Unlike her brother, Nabi is closer in comparison to those who are considered a normal person. Some say she has not reached her full potential yet; she believes she was made that way for a reason. To further her knowing of empathy among the humans, something she cannot rule without.

A hand reaches out to grab her arm. Startling her once again into reality. She did not know how long she had been standing outside her brother's door.

"Guardian." One of her maids, Sara, greets her. "I was told you are not feeling well. Allow me to lead you to your suite."

Nabi just nods. Slipping back into her mind. She contemplates the occurrences in her life, those that had led her into small fits of anger. The first occurrence being when she was a child and a follower had offered her a small poodle as a gift. Later in the day another child had tried to play with it, resulting in the kid crying in the dirt with a bloody nose. The other big occurrence being over a tear in her favorite dress, where she was then being rushed away from a fire, she had started over the bush that had torn it. Today's incident was nowhere near the worse, but it had been a good five years since she had been lost away in such blackness.

Numbly she finally realizes that the sun has set, and she has been tucked into her oversized bed. Sara places a tray full of fruits and the soup her brother had made on her lap.

"You brother said there's leftovers in the kitchen must you want more. I'll be right outside if you need anything more of me."

Nabi gives her a small smile and begins to pick at the fruit on her tray. Usually being her favorite thing to eat, the soup her brother had made seeps off the smell of rotting flesh, quickly making her throw up everything she had eaten that day.

"My dear." Sara runs to her side, starting to clean up the mess. "Are you feeling that ill Guardian?"

She begins to feel her head for signs of fever, while drawing Nabi up from her soiled bed.

"Please sit." She sets Nabi down on an overstuffed couch. "I'll make another bath for you."

Her consciousness fades in and out, finally laying way to a dreamland.

She is once again in her favorite place. The water roars above her but she is not alone. A familiar figure stands in her embrace and warms her soul. With such a perfect scene, she is surprised to find tears covering her cheeks. A deep ache resonates through her chest, she looks down so see a black liquid staining her skin and a hole where her heart should be. Without a warning the man brushes the tears from her face, then brushes back small strands of hair. He captures her cheeks in both hands before kissing her. He smells of earth and tastes of mint. Her heart begins to thrum happily, quicker and quicker as the kiss develops into one of shared tongues and quiet sighs. The ache in her chest also grows. She breaks the kiss to looks down upon herself again, seeing cracks splintering over her skin like cracked stone. It is realized then what this dream is trying to tell her, the thing that would continue to bring on these dark occurrences in her life. If she continued on her path, Love would surely be the best and worst thing to ever happen to her.

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leebird-simmer · 3 years

Text

Russian Fairy Tales Test Prep: Spirits of the Forests, Waters, and Fields

Like the domovoi, the spirits of the forests, waters, and fields had their origin in pre-Christian times, but the nature spirits were considered basically harmful to humans and were generally regarded as unclean. The bulk of available sources re: nature spirits dates from the end of the 19th century, when belief in these beings was already in a state of decline and information about them was often imprecise or contaminated by the addition of traits more properly belonging to the Devil.

The Leshii: master of the forest, guardian of beasts.

He could assume the likeness of a familiar person, a forest beast, a domestic animal, even a mushroom. He made his presence known to peasants venturing into his territory through laughter, handclapping, and the various sounds of the forest. It was reported that he could “sing without words.” He would frequently “prank” peasants by calling to them in a familiar voice so they would get lost in a deep thicket or ravine. Sometimes he would tickle people to death. At all times, it was considered essential to utter a protective prayer upon entering the forest. The leshii hated boisterous conduct, sojourns in the woods at night, and woodcutters. He wailed if one of his favorite trees was chopped down.

Historical basis: In medieval Russia, it was customary to cut off a robber’s left ear after the first offense. The peasants had a tendency to refer to the forest spirit as kornoukhii (”one whose ear has been cut off”). In Karelia, Russians often pictured forest spirits wearing military uniforms, indicating that peasants assigned them traits of fugitive soldiers hiding in the forest. Similarly, narratives in which the leshii approaches a campfire and requests food may reflect this practice among vagabonds and escaped serfs seeking refuge in the forest.

Social organization: While there was usually one leshii per forest, sometimes there were several. For particularly large forests, the notion existed that there was a hierarchy of forest spirits, ruled by a tsar. Forest spirits feasted and played games together. The leshii lived with his wife, his children, and sometimes his mother & father. Their domestic order was imagined as similar to that of the peasants; they lived in houses, had dogs, and raised livestock. In certain areas, the leshii’s wife, the lesovikha, played a prominent role in forest lore.

Dealings with humans: Among the forest beasts, the wolf was the leshii’s favorite, and on occasion the spirit assumed the form of a large white wolf. Throughout the woodlands of Great Russia, peasants took measures to guard their cattle from the leshii’s wolves. Many of them called on St. George’s protection from predators.

In the Russian North, where cattle were pastured in the forest, peasants also solicited the leshii’s protection. This sometimes took the form of a pact between the forest spirit & the herdsman, who (according to one account) concluded this agreement much the same way that sorcerers concluded pacts with the devil: he removed his cross from his neck, swore fidelity to the forest spirit, and instead of swallowing holy communion, handed it over to the leshii. Peasants often looked askance at herdsmen (and at hunters, who made similar pacts), suspecting they possessed occult powers.

Leshie also carried off young girls, who they sometimes married, and women living in discord with their husbands. Narratives tell of peasant women abducted or summoned to serve as nannies or midwives for the forest spirit. One occasionally encounters the idea that captives could gain their freedom by refusing to eat the leshii’s food. Those who returned from the forest were reportedly wild-looking and covered with moss, and often they could no longer speak. Many never recovered, remaining in a state of continual distraction for the rest of their lives. Some made use of the knowledge of the unclean force gained by their forest experience and became sorcerers.

The Vodianoi

- often referred to as “the water devil” - universally considered evil & dangerous, since his sole purpose was drowning people

Habitat: The vodianoi lived underwater in deep pools. He confined himself to his own & neighboring waters, coming out only as far as the bank or the mill wheel. In some areas, it was believed that the vodianoi did not leave the water at all, but emerged only as far as his waist.

In the black-earth provinces of Riazan, Tula, Orel, and Kaluga, peasants claimed that the spirits had magnificent underwater palaces of crystal and that they gave grand feasts. Peasants from northern areas (such as Olonets) had a more modest conception of the spirits’ dwellings: here the silver floors, golden ceilings, and crystal chandeliers of their southern kin are replaced by sandy bottoms, snarled branches, and slimy logs.

Relationships: The vodianoi married a drowned maiden, either a rusalka or his female counterpart (the vodianikha), who was envisioned as a naked woman with gigantic breasts sitting on the bank at night, combing her long wet hair.

The vodianoi liked millers & fishermen; the miller in particular was often regarded with suspicion because of his relationship with the spirit. When a new mill was constructed, a black rooster was placed under the threshold as an offering to the vodianoi. If you really wanted to impress him, you could drown a drunk passerby instead of a rooster, maybe even as an annual sacrifice. That was said to be worthy of a standing invitation to the spirit’s nightly underwater feast.

The Polevoi & Poludnitsa: spirits of the field.

In some places, the polevoi was considered an oracle, and thus morally neutral. In other places, they were a sign of misfortune, considered unclean and dangerous. According to folk notions, it was dangerous to sleep on the boundaries of the field because the polevoi liked to gallop there and might run you over with his horse. His children also played there and liked to smother sleeping humans.

In some regions, one finds mention of a female field spirit known as the poludnitsa or “midday spirit” AKA Lady Mid-day, who may have played an important role in folk belief during medieval times. Back then, she was believed to walk the fields at noon when the grain was ripe. Her function was to protect the crop and to punish peasants caught working at noon (in violation of custom) by breaking their bones and twisting their necks.

The Rusalka: female spirits, thought to be the souls of unbaptized/stillborn babies and drowned maidens.

alternate names for her: “jokestress” (shutovka), “tickler” (loskotukha), “abductor” (khitka), and among the Northern Great Russians, “demoness” (chertovka).

alternate origins:

1. Some creation legends claimed that the devil himself fashioned the spirits (both domestic AND natural) when, imitating God, he struck one rock against the other. The fragments became these creatures. 2. One legend claims that these spirits were children whom Adam (or Noah) was ashamed to show to God and thus hid. 3. Vodianye & rusalki were thought to be descended from Pharoah’s forces, drowned while pursuing Moses across the Red Sea. 4. In Kaluga Province, it was believed that they received their eternal youth and beauty directly from the Devil, who boiled them in a cauldron. 5. Only in Bulgaria was the rusalka portrayed positively; rusalki were understood as winged spirits who lived on the edge of the world and brought moisture & fertility.

All but the last of these explanations bear the stamp of apocryphal legends based on the Old Testament, illustrating the grafting process of dvoeverie.

These spirits were considered especially dangerous in the late spring during Rusal’naia Week, when they supposedly left their underwater homes from the forests & fields. Peasant women sometimes hung offerings of scarves and linen on forest trees to appease them. Reports sometimes specified that the rusalki did not like women; on the other hand, they often told of love between these spirits and village lads.

Most accounts of the rusalki paint this picture: sisterhoods of lovely maidens in league with the unclean force. This is the standard image for Southern Great Russia & the Ukraine, an image highly evocative in its interweaving of beauty and treachery.

#study blog #my notes #russian fairy tales #russian folklore #russian paganism

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dovakhiindrabbles · 3 years

Note

For the prompt 43 with Brynjolf please?

Of course! I’d be more than happy to write the prompt for you! I only hope you have an amazing day and enjoy! <3

43. “Come with me.”

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Nocturnal was a god among mortals -- a daedric prince who oversaw the murky shadows and all who hid among them. Whispers heard throughout the world told of how she could even be found lingering in those shadows, an inky blackness clinging to her as if the very sun itself couldn’t reveal her.

She was above the follies of mortals and yet couldn’t help herself from meddling. Especially those of her most loyal followers -- the Nightingales.

She’d noticed from her times looming within the darkness how you and Brynjolf interacted. How hands briefly brushed and fingers just barely interlocked. How passing glances held just a second too long to be unimportant. How no matter where you went, you went together.

Your feelings for one another were so painfully obvious an infant could see it -- so apparently the two of you had even less awareness.

It was an opportunity Nocturnal couldn’t pass up.

Between the two of you, she first sought out Brynjolf. The man fancied himself as clever, often to such a degree that a snippy remark had slipped out in some of their conversations.

It was during the night when she caught him, just outside the Blue Palace where he’d managed to escape from. Guards spilled out and yells could be heard from each and every corner -- even those caught in shadow. Brynjolf had slipped between two manors where the moonlight missed just so. An ornate, extravagant jewelry box clamped between his grip with more gemstones and gold decorating it than most would see in their entire life.

From there, Nocturnal revealed herself in the darkest crevice space could offer. The darkness extended her outwards and still clung to her despite her physical form. She was a void, and the shape she created only split itself apart in the pure absence of light -- not even the brightest lantern would be able to paint her figure.

“My Nightingale.”

Brynjolf nearly jumped into the open road in shock, smacking his back up against the wall in frustration upon realizing. “Fucking fuck are you-”

He looked up at Nocturnal’s imposing figure and thought better of himself. He spoke softly, his gaze alternating between her and the streets cluttering further and further of curious onlookers and furious guards. “My lady, what can I do for you?”

She made a motion with her hand that brought strings of the void trailing after her fingertips. “On the contrary, I am here to offer you my assistance.”

Brynjolf gave a cheeky grin. “Could you get me out of this mess?”

“You are one of my most trusted followers with an agent of my own creation. There should be no situation beyond your skills.”

“I know.” Brynjolf groaned. “Worth a shot. Meet me outside the gates, my lady?”

She vanished without a word and Brynjolf proceeded to lift himself up onto the rim of one of the manor’s roof. He hoisted himself up and pressed his body close to the tiles, only lifting himself up to leap from home to home. In that time he truly was a shadow, beyond any light and any eyes that would make the foolish attempt to seek him out.

Minutes later he was beyond Solitude’s walls and any outrage that still remained was drowned out by the falling and crashing of the waves below. Still hidden away safely in his coat was the jewelry box -- not so much as a scuff on it. Brynjolf impressed himself every time.

As he began walking along the carved out path, Nocturnal reemerged. Her form freer beyond Solitude’s constant desire for warmth. She carried herself freely, and she took on a shape almost human, but not quite. There was always an unknowable aspect to Nocturnal that could never be described. Many daedra carried themselves in such a way, so that they could nearly blend in, but never be forgotten by anything lesser than a fool.

“That was commendable.” Nocturnal hummed. Both a lightness and a deepness coexisted in her voice.

Brynjolf interlocked his fingers and stretched them out; a popping could be heard. He sighed dramatically. “All in a day’s work.”

“I hope you are able to hide that treasure as well as you hide your feelings.”

Brynjolf knew Daedric princes were meant to be incapable of understanding; downright incomprehensible sometimes. But this? It bewildered him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You and the other Nightingale?”

Brynjolf cracked a grin. “Karliah?” He tested Nocturnal’s kindness.

“The other one.” She swatted a bit of darkness at him and like a tight band flung outward, it stung him.

“Ah, that one.” Brynjolf rubbed at his little red mark where Nocturnal smacked him like a petulant child. “What of them?”

Nocturnal stepped in front of him, a swirling blackness keeping her from ever truly touching the ground. “You both have feelings for one another?”

Brynjolf did what he knew best, and dodged the question. “What like hate? Friendliness? Perhaps a bit of irritation?”

“Do not attempt to evade me, Nightingale.” Nocturnal raised her voice and the night became that much more invasive. She settled herself quickly. “You are my servant, there is nothing I do not know. The darkest, most secretive parts of yourself are the ones I know best. Fortunately for you, I only wish to help.”

Brynjolf wrinkled his nose and cracked beneath the pressure. It was a touchy subject, apparently. “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”

“I need only open your eyes,” Nocturnal answered. “I think you’ll find it’s clear the feelings are mutual.”

“I don’t want to be disrespectful my lady but-”

Nocturnal cut him off. “Then don’t be.”

Brynjolf scoffed. “But I don’t see how that’s possible.”

She tipped her head to the side curiously. “How is that?”

“Because there are a million other better people knocking on their door!” Brynjolf exclaimed it like it were obvious. “I mean why would someone like that choose someone like me?”

“Someone like you? Their equal?”

Brynjolf scowled and huffed. “Like a thief could ever be on par with the Dragonborn.”

Nocturnal simpered. “The Dragonborn themself also is a thief. Last I recall you two work closely together.”

“Even still-”

“The only one creating rifts in this relationship is you, my Nightingale. What are you afraid of?”

He hesitated and in an instant Nocturnal knew.

“Rejection.”

Brynjolf’s hands tightened into tight, uneasy fists at the revelation. Nocturnal raised those hands and unfurled them, tracing lines of shadow along his palm. In the most peculiar way, it was soothing, and Brynjolf supposed it was her own... unique way of comforting him.

“If I believed there was a chance the Dragonborn wouldn’t share those feelings I would not be here, speaking to you. I only want what is best for my followers.”

“Besides,” Nocturnal mused. “if it goes poorly, you can simply submerge yourself within the shadows for eternity.”

Brynjolf chuckled. “I might take you up on that offer.”

“You won’t.” Nocturnal looked up at him with an emptiness one could consider her eyes. Her ‘windows to the soul’ only unveiled further darkness, but only in the way one shrouds themself beneath the shade of a blanket to escape what frightens them -- it was a relief, protection. “Because you won’t have to.”

A moment later, Nocturnal disappeared within the void beneath her. She sank into the night that had soaked into the very deepest layers of the earth, leaving Brynjolf to himself and her words.

By the time he’d made it to the Nightingale Hall, he’d made up his mind.

You were sitting in the living quarters with Karliah, seated across one another and leaned both in the old, weary chairs. You’d been laughing, and Brynjolf could tell by the edges of your lips lifted up. The moment you saw him, you lit up.

“Bryn! There you are! Karliah was starting to think you got lost along the way!”

He snorted. “I could’ve. What a bitch of a walk.”

Karliah furrowed her brow, amused. “You could’ve stolen a horse like a sane person.”

“Maybe I like the quiet. You can hardly get any of it here.”

She rolled her eyes at the very idea. “You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

Brynjolf laughed. “Absolutely lass.”

He turned to you and his heart began to thump heavy and hard against his chest. Of all the things to bring him nerves in life, it was you bringing knots and tangles in his stomach. He took a deep breath and grasped your shoulder, gesturing. “Come with me.”

Your eyes widened like saucers, but you stood up. To say the least, your curiosity was piqued. “Alright... what is it?”

“I just wanted to talk to you, in private.”

You ducked your head away to hide the red that burst onto your face. You folded your lips to hide a growing smile, but you were still clearly nervous, shuffling your feet and fidgeting with your hands. “Okay.”

He led you outside where the evening had overtaken the sky overhead in a mix of blues, pinks, and the slightest tinge of purple. It was a beautiful sight, and one of the rare gifts that came with living in Skyrim.

Brynjolf leaned against the stone cavern of the hall and ran his fingers through his hair. This felt so much easier in his head. “I ah -- I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot.”

“Bryn-”

“No! I just -- I want to say this, but be patient with me, please. I’m not good with... emotions.” Brynjolf laughed. “You don’t get to be a man like me by being open.”

You nodded and stayed, you were far too patient than he deserved.

“I-” Brynjolf swallowed hard and took a few steps forward. A part of him wanted to reach for your hand but that’d be too much, too soon. If he -- if Nocturnal was wrong he didn’t want to dig his grave any further than necessary.

“I love you.”

There was a period of silence where Brynjolf considered Nocturnal’s offer to hide in the shadows forever. It was a horrible few seconds where Brynjolf’s vision was stagnant and the entire world was frozen in time.

He only came back to reality when you took his hand. You enveloped it in your own and squeezed his palm fondly. You were warm, and your grip was steadfast.

“I love you too.”

Brynjolf rarely smiled from ear to ear, but he did then. He took you in his arms and spun you like one only saw in fairy tales. It was something he only just now realized he’d wanted to do for the longest time. There were so many things he wanted to do -- with you -- and now, he could.

He would have to thank Nocturnal the next time they crossed paths.

#Brynjolf #Skyrim #tes #Skyrim tes #brynjolf skyrim #Brynjolf x Reader #Brynjolf x You #You x Brynjolf #Skyrim Fanfic #Skyrim Fanfiction #x Reader #brynjolf fanfiction #Brynjolf Fanfic #Forgot how much I LOVE nocturnal #also thieves guild might be my favorite questline

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

Text

What Wretches Call the Law

The chains squeaked and creaked, and I startled awake.

They always made that dreadful sound whenever I moved, whenever the wind blew. It was driving me insane. It was not like sleep came easy for me anymore.

My feet ached. Everything hurt. The iron bars dug into my back as I sat there, with my legs so close to me that I could have held my ears shut with my knees. So uncomfortable.

But I only had two options left. Standing up until almost everything hurt or sitting like this until everything else hurt. I had given out hope of ever experiencing anything but this persistent pain. But I had yet to come to terms with my end.

The bastards left me out here to die. On display for all to see.

Did not even have the decency to hang me first, or quarter me, or whatever else the sick coxcombs come up with next.

Maybe I could have spent more time in pondering where it all went wrong, but I had stopped seeing the point in that. Somewhere in between shouting profanities into the night until I went hoarse, mulling over all the little things I came to regret in life, and sobbing while I pleaded for my freedom, every single peep from my parched throat falling upon deaf ears.

Nobody ever answered.

Only the damned metal chain links squeaked.

So, there I was, hanging inside this inhumanly narrow cage. They called it a "gibbet". Love how they always found the time to come up with fancy names and forms for shit like this. All their riches and all their reading and faith and books, and this is what they filled their lives with.

Rotten inbred scum.

Their twisted sense of justice in putting me here, leaving me here—there was nothing just about it. They were deranged. Their sadistic pleasure in seeing my plight spoke volumes of their madness. The way the crowds gasped, and laughed, and cheered whenever they watched public executions.

I knew. I had been of them, too. At some point.

And all the while, every single one of them would have done the same in my place.

I knew because that was where I had gone.

As well as all the louts who stopped by the crossroads to look upon me there. To point, to talk ill about me, to tell their children that this was why they had to eat their supper and go to sleep and obey whatever they were told.

All cowards. Cowards who either loved to crush the peasants beneath their heel and mock me as they rode by on fancy horses, or cowards who feared the thought of ending up in my place if they helped me or even just dared to question this disgusting injustice.

Little walking piles of shit, all of them.

Even that little girl.

My thoughts had boiled down to these two extremes. Crushing remorse over mistakes I had made, and seething anger towards my captors.

Light and dark.

My skin had begun to peel from all the exposure to bouts of the sun burning down on me, while the cold and gloom of cloudy skies was something I had come to appreciate. Rain remained absent, as if God and heavens had decided to mock me like all the other cowards down here.

Day and night.

That was how my thoughts kept circling, cycling. I had no way of telling what time of day it was, or how long I had been left here.

Left to die miserably. For all to see.

Just like I had lost track of the passage of days and nights, I drifted in and out of uneasy slumber.

Squeak.

Fucking iron. Woke me up again.

There she was. Again.

The little girl.

No ten winters old, I guessed. Filthy, ratty, just like the rest of us who lived their lives in squalor. I began to wonder if she had even had a home where she took the food from, or if she was an orphan who nabbed these bits from townsfolk that pitied her. I wondered if she, too, one day, would end up like me.

Or if one of those bastards would take her life and get stuck in a cage to die, too.

Or if she would just be another one of the sorry souls, trampled underfoot by those rat bastards.

She held up a piece of soggy bread, offering it to me.

The first few times she had brought me any food, I always greedily gobbled it up. But in the beginning, I had held hopes of escaping. I ate only when I still dreamt of getting out from this fucking cage somehow, of getting my revenge.

Now, I would have spat on the little girl out of spite, but I did not want to spare any more spittle from my chapped lips. My mouth felt like sand.

I did not know how much longer I had, but another damned day in this damnable cage was a day too long to suffer through.

I shook my head at her, and she continued to stare at me through those big, wide eyes. Like staring at a doe in the woods, and the doe staring back. Curious and fearful. Frozen as I was, ready to bolt.

Like she knew what I had done but was entranced by it. Or she had no idea and did not understand why I was here. Or maybe the little witch was possessed by a demon who took pleasure in my torment.

At first, I welcomed the morsels she brought me. Usually bread, an onion here, even a chunk of cheese there. At first, I had still mistakenly believed I was getting out of this gibbet alive.

Now, I cursed her misguided pity. I cursed her with every bit of God's body. Anything she gave me only prolonged my suffering. Prolonged my captivity here, not only in this cage—but in this flesh.

I was too weak to do anything, too weak to speak back at people who insulted me whenever they passed my cage anymore. Too weak to hurl back profanities at those who mocked me, or threw rocks, or flung mud and dung pies. I reacted plentifully in the beginning. Colorfully. Sometimes pleaded, even.

But if there was one thing that the Lord had failed to teach us all, I guess it was showing mercy. This I now knew, taking root deep inside my bones.

The little girl shook the piece of bread, emphasizing how she wanted me to take it and eat it.

I guess if I had learned the lesson of mercy myself, I would have had to give the little brat the benefit of the doubt—that she pitied me, and shared food with me, thinking it was just the right thing to do.

That part won out. For now.

I shook my head again. She finally stopped holding out the chunk of bread. Turned around and left.

She always looked over her shoulder back at me when she went away, like I might finally climb out of my cage and follow her. She always showed up alone, no other people in sight. Vanished back into the hills, not taking the muddy roads where my cage swayed drearily in the wind.

Her presence portended something slightly unreal. Part of why I wondered if she was not some devil.

But none of that mattered. I just wanted it to end. All of it.

Not only my own life. I wanted the world to end. I wanted to see it burn, and to hear the screams of people suffering in ways undreamed of.

I wished ill upon all who had wronged me. And as far as I was concerned, here, hanging in this cage and dying slowly like a wretch—the whole damned world was guilty of wronging me.

I had lied, stolen, and slain. I cannot say that I did any of that for good reason. Sometimes I did it for fun. Often, I did it for my own survival and more often for my own gain, reckless of the cost upon others.

But how else was I supposed to live?

Not just survive.

Live.

Was I supposed to work the fields until my bones were bare and my feet bloody? To accept my place in life? Watch as others lived high and mighty, looking down upon us from their grandiose castles, taking from us because of the blood and loins they were born of? Leave alone all the things they have and do not need, so many that only the Lord almighty can keep an eye on it all and they need more servants to watch what they believe is theirs?

Craven toads.

Of course, I would steal from them. Of course, I would take their rotten children for ransom, and kill one of them when it came to saving my own hide. If those liver-eaters could get fat on the food we decked their tables with, then they certainly could fuck whomever they wanted to, to spawn more of their little rat-fucking offspring to continue their awful legacy.

Cowards. They would have done the exact same in my position. Any of you who want to tell otherwise, why are you lying to yourselves?

The only difference between them and us was the golden spoon that fed them from cradle to grave.

For when they stole, raped, and murdered, it was just. When we did as the example they led with, it was crime.

I regretted none of that. Think of me as a terrible creature, and I will not argue with you. That is not my place. Think of me as a terrible monster, that I have come to embrace.

As I awaited Death to greet me, sitting in my hanging cage, I only felt the occasional pangs of remorse over other things. My things.

The time I watched as the other children bullied a friend, and I joined in on it with them. How I should have done something. I could tell that he never looked at me the same away again ever after. And here, of all places, I wondered what became of him. Would he throw the first dung pie if he had the opportunity?

The time I broke a friend's nose in anger, and we never spoke again afterwards. I had overreacted, and he never deserved that. His wrathful gaze and bloodied face, I will never forget. I wondered if he still loathed me, wherever he wandered now. If he even walked this earth anymore.

And the time I made my darling cry, and never saw her again but doors closed on my face, angry shouts muffled by the wood. Owed to mistakes I had made all on my own, with nobody else to blame. Though I would never apologize for where I wandered in my life before and after, I would never strike her again. Those eyes, so filled with accusation, so cold and unforgiving for all the times I had wronged her, I had learned from those mistakes and would nary repeat them.

My sadness stemmed from those moments and filled my quiet loneliness now, thoughts I had not afforded much space until I had wound up stuck in this cage where I would die.

I was not a good person, and never would be. The longer I lingered here, the closer Death crept to my tiny prison, the smaller that remorse shrank. The shorter the bouts of sadness.

With this justice? This mockery of justice?

No. By now, I felt only anger. I had no more energy for it to burn bright like a flame.

All that was left of it was something seething and cold and almost sinister.

Oh, the things I imagined doing to people now as my last moments waned, and I drifted in and out of depraved dreams thereof.

Squeak.

Fucking iron.

Night had fallen, and I struggled to stand again, finally relieving my back of the pressure from the cage's bars. Within minutes of standing in the gibbet, my feet began to ache.

My stomach had long stopped growling. Funny, that. Never realized that it only growled after I had eaten. Now, that I had gone without nourishment for God-only-knew-how-long, all that my belly had become was a pit from which sharp spikes of pain shot out every now and again, stabbing at my insides to remind me of my coming demise.

I gripped the bars of my cage. And that was that.

No longer did I try to bend them, no longer did I possess any strength to even dare dreaming of such folly.

Death awaited me.

The shadows in the mist between the hillocks, they sometimes took the shape of people. Like the silhouette of a person. Standing still. Watching from afar.

Death.

When I came to next, it was gloomy again, light out.

I hated everything. Everyone.

A horse carried a nobleman down the crossroad. Hooves kicked up muck and the bastard turned his nose up to look down at me as he passed by. Pure disdain and disgust, judging by the lop-sided sneer across his visage.

Never seen him before but would have murdered him in a heartbeat over some food. Especially now. Or—my freedom, rather. Food only meant further torment, I reckoned.

Food without freedom only meant that Death took his time. Took longer to finally approach me.

The lousy nobleman in his bright and colorful cloth offered no prolonged stare, ignored me on his ride, gaining distance quickly. Had somewhere more important to be. Had others to gossip with, and perhaps speak derisively of me.

Now swallowed by the fog.

Squeak.

Next, I remembered, I was sitting again. My back no longer hurt. My eyes did not open.

Yet I saw.

I saw everything from here. Floating beside myself, studying the husk of my former being. Oh, how pathetic I looked. I wondered how many days lay in wait between my passing and my body turning into a skeleton. Knowing the scoundrels who had done this to me, I knew they would leave it there as a reminder.

Do not cross the crown, or you shall find yourself in the gibbet, just like me.

But my body was not alone as I hovered there.

There was that girl again. She could see me—not in my new form—thus she held up some bread to my body. Then she lowered her hand, seeing that my sorry carcass offered her no reaction. The deathly, vacant stare in my hollow eyes. The crows already cawed in the distance, hungry to pick the jelly from my skull.

The shadow of Death had long come and gone. But in sending only his shadow, so did I remain, a shadow of my former self.

My time in this flesh had passed.

But I now understood the potential. Felt something when I should have felt nothing anymore.

A thirst to dwell longer and unleash my wrath. All I needed was a way back.

That spark of curiosity. That open little mind of hers.

I could taste it. I could touch it.

And she could not see my shadow, growing as the sun set, crawling across the dirt, and reaching out like dark thorns.

I took control. I entered her head and took over. Saw through those big wide eyes. Studied my tiny little hands and wondered what I could possibly do with them. Wondered next if I could take another body, bigger and stronger than hers.

She still had all her teeth. Soon I knew her every memory.

Had I known this possibility, perhaps I would have welcomed Death sooner.

And without a body to tether me any longer, I would have my revenge.

I would make them pay.

All of them.

Now, I know you look at me in disbelief. I have seen so many faces like yours before.

How can this be?

Well—kill me. Cut me down. End my life and find out if my yarn is but a strange tale. I dare thee.

But when I return to haunt, I will remind you. No matter the face. I will admit that I lie, I steal, and I murder, like anybody else. Even if man gives me no right to. And whatever justice you think there is, it is an illusion. Justice serves only the strong and the wicked.

I will wear another face, and I will speak, with pride, "The flesh is a cage, and I am here to free thee from it." I will remind you of this tale as you weep and beg for mercy, and you will know for certain.

There is only what wretches call the law.

And then there is me.

—Submitted by Wratts

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airashisakura · 3 years

Text

Late submission for @fantasysasusaku SasuSaku Fantasy Week Day 6 - Soulmate/ Prophecy/ Reincarnation

Title: Embodiment of his Fate

Pairing: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke

A/N: A mythology from my country had inspired me to write this piece. This was supposed to be posted during the event, but it got unusually long and took a lot of time than I expected. Also this first AU written by me.

FFN AO3

****

Part I

Sasuke — the lone wanderer — didn’t expect again to see the embodiment of his fate in green and pink. Even the gods were sometimes astonished, and Sasuke, the god of catastrophe, felt his world shaking when a pair of tired yet cheerful eyes smiled at him.

“Sakura?” he asked, every syllable carrying disbelief. He bit his tongue as the forbidden name left his mouth, because the Sakura he knew and loved had died long ago.

The owner of shining jade eyes and rosy coloured hair nodded at him. “I’ve been waiting for you, Sasuke.”

Her words echoed more than the thunderstorms he created. He had heard those words before rolling out from a certain pinkette's mouth. He recognised the ‌same words and her loving tone, but only in memories of a time long ago.

Was she the Sakura he knew? Was it an illusion borne out of his longing? Or was she a reincarnation?

****

Sasuke had always been alone — without any roots and attachments. He didn’t know his family or when and where he was born. He grew up in the darkness of the Ryuchi caves, his only companions being snakes. They were neither his friends nor his enemies, but he polished his basic instincts by observing and mimicking them.

Over time, Sasuke became an invincible warrior — one who rivaled Naruto. Over time, he earned the dignity of a God alongside Naruto.

Sasuke’s sole purpose was to destroy the imperfections and illusions, paving the way for beneficial change. His kind of destruction wasn’t arbitrary but constructive. He was thus seen both as good and evil and regarded as one who combines contradictory elements.

Naruto, unlike Sasuke, had a peaceful demeanor — being praised as God of Preservation — and nourished the world and its being. They worked in sync and ran the cycle of life — destroying the life which was futile and restoring a better life from the ashes.

Their ideologies were different, but they created a perfect balance. Naruto thrived on building bonds and made judgments with compassion, always forgiving and guiding misled souls. Sasuke, on the other hand, was more extreme — he always took an eye for an eye and a hand for a hand, but he wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t forgiving like Naruto either, and he claimed that his sense of judgement was always clearer. Sasuke despised Naruto’s philosophy. In his perspective, being enslaved to mere emotions would bring no good to the world.

Sasuke was pure consciousness, completely without pretension, never repetitive, always spontaneous, forever inventive, ceaselessly creative, and passionate about his actions.

One day, when Naruto and Sasuke were settling their arguments with a battle, Kakashi, a wise and mischievous messenger between Gods of Heaven and Kings of Earth, noticed how passionately Sasuke wielded his sword. The more Kakashi saw of Sasuke, the more he was in awe of him. His cunning mind bore a wish. He wanted to see how passionately this man could build bonds.

Kakashi knew Sasuke would be enraged if he approached him. Instead, he plotted a conspiracy. He went to The Creator himself — the one who created the world and appointed the protector and the destroyer. Hagoromo himself was amused by Kakashi’s proposal, but he watched Sasuke and saw the stillness surrounding him — the pain that Sasuke was unable to see himself. Hagoromo took pity and advised Kakashi to go to The Land of Fire.

Konohagakure, the capital of the Land of Fire, was prosperous and mighty, ruled by Queen Tsunade. The queen was strong willed and stubborn and feared no catastrophe. She had always been the one who harshly criticized Sasuke’s way of living and his actions.

Kakashi was a shrewd diplomat and knew he could never succeed in convincing the Queen to do what Hagoromo suggested, so he tricked her. He told her that The Creator himself wanted her beautiful kingdom to prosper more and had decided to present a gift to her. Tsunade was thrilled to know that, and the wise lady was unable to see behind Kakashi’s conspiracy.

A holy fire always burned at the heart of The Land of Fire. This fire was regarded pious because it had been burning since the beginning of civilization. The strongest of rains and harshest of winds were never able to extinguish the holy fire. The high raging flames were Tsunade’s pride and she believed no one, even The Gods themselves could demolish her Kingdom.

As promised, a beautiful adolescent girl emerged from that fire. As the girl descended from the altar, the mere touch of her soles made the earth more fertile, and her smile brought serenity.

People called her The New Goddess, and she was named Sakura. Her beauty was ethereal and her voice sweeter than honey. The shade of her eyes rivaled emerald and her hair was as graceful as cherry blossoms. Her laugh jingled with air as melodious as an angel's song. She possessed a heart brimming with compassion and love that melted even the coldest of hearts.

Tsunade, a fierce and strong tempered woman, developed a motherly instinct towards her. Sakura churned out love from the depths of the heart of the warrior queen. Tsunade found peace in Sakura’s presence and loved doing mundane things with her. Tsunade treated Sakura like her own daughter and doted on her.

As years passed by, Sakura bloomed, and she mastered everything Tsunade had taught her. Tsunade was elated and boasted that she would make her a warrior and queen like herself.

Tsunade didn’t trust many people around Sakura. She considered Sakura a precious entity and kept her hidden from the eyes of the unknown and evil. However, Kakashi was neither unknown nor evil, and thus he met Sakura routinely and helped her with her growing loneliness.

“What does freedom feel like?” she had asked Kakashi one day while her eyes drifted out from her windows, trying to see the boundaries of the Konoha.

Kakashi knew what she was talking about, but he remained silent, finding the best possible way to introduce her to the character for whom he had conspired everything.

“I want to see what’s outside those big gates.”

Sakura looked towards Kakashi, expecting an answer, and added, her voice fading, “And know more people.”

Tsunade had told her that she was destined to be the queen of this land, and so she couldn’t befriend anybody she wanted.

Kakashi silently mocked the situation. A goddess boon for a kingdom, bane for herself.

“Do you want to meet someone who can show you the real essence of freedom?”

Sakura nodded, her green eyes sparkling with eagerness.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkled at her innocence — how prophecy was working in the background, without her knowledge.

“There’s one problem though.” Kakashi rubbed his chin, squinting his eyes.

Sakura gave him a questioning look, and Kakashi said in a hushed, secretive voice, “He doesn’t like meeting anybody.”

“Huh? But why?” Sakura demanded, her voice two octaves higher than Kakashi’s.

Kakashi laughed at her innocence again.

“Oh! Tell me, where can I meet him? And would mother allow me?” she asked hopefully, fidgeting with the laces of her gown.

Kakashi’s relaxed face became serious. However, he knew how to outsmart the legendary Queen herself.

“Well, you have to go to Shikkotsu Forest.”

Sakura looked bewildered, as she had never heard of the place before.

“You don’t know where it is, do you?” Kakashi asked, and Sakura shook her head with a frown.

“Don’t worry. I’ll escort you there.” Kakashi smiled softly to her, but before Sakura could run down to tell Tsunade about her adventure, Kakashi interrupted. “However, don’t tell The Queen that you are going to meet someone. You know right? The Queen doesn’t like that.”

Sakura nodded again, saddened by the fact that she had to lie, but the thrill of the impending adventure washed away her guilt.

Kakashi then convinced Tsunade to follow his plan by pointing out that Katsuyu, the slug from Shikkotsu forest, had always served the Queen and for Sakura to succeed her throne in the future, she must know Katsuyu and Shikkotsu woods. Tsunade was convinced and, although unwillingly, gave her permission.

Dressed in the attire of a warrior and saddled upon a horse, she waved goodbye to her mother and the kingdom. The horse kicked the ground and started running at full speed, and Sakura wondered why she hadn’t thought of exploring outside the high walls of the palace before. She had always thought Konoha was a paradise, but as she crossed mile after mile, she realised the world outside Konoha was much more chaotic and beautiful.

Sometimes they slowed down, and the horses lazily strolled while she and Kakashi chatted. Kakashi would tell her about the magical slug Katsuyu and how she would be going to live in the wilderness. She also learned a little more about the man she was going to meet.

He is the embodiment of stillness and energy both, she had remembered Kakashi saying. His face carried a calm and stoic expression while inside he was chaotic and frightful. He remained still and unmoving when he reflected on his purpose, and yet he moved with a lightning speed when he executed his actions.

His stillness and energy both intrigued Sakura more. She had never felt so lively before, and as she reached closer to Shikkotsu forest, she couldn’t wait more to taste how it felt — how freedom looked like.

Almost a year passed, and Sakura had accepted Shikkotsu woods as her new home. Her silky hair grew longer and unruly, and she tied it up in a messy knot. The dresses she had brought with herself were old and torn, and she learned how to sew them. She spent hours after hours collecting food and grew more petite. What didn’t change was her radiant beauty and the mesmerizing smile that never left her lips.

She remembered her mother’s command clearly:

Learn healing magic from Katsuyu. When you become The Queen, it will benefit the people of the Kingdom.

Sakura never strayed from her routine with Katsuyu, gaining knowledge about the secrets of magical power that the slug possessed.

After that, she spent most of her time sitting on the wooden branches of a tree, looking towards the entrance of the forest. Sometimes she swung her legs in impatience, sometimes disappointment took over, and sometimes she mulled over her decision to leave the kingdom. She had waited for almost two years now and sadness took over her face when she realised the day wasn’t far when her mother would send an army to escort her back.

Although a goddess who could do wonders waited for a man and her destiny.

When Kakashi had informed him that a certain intruder had invaded Shikkostu woods, Sasuke had scoffed when he found a frail lady roaming through the forest.

“What possible harm could she cause?” he’d said.

Kakashi chuckled under his breath.

Unless cold-blooded God knew, she had the capability to destroy his ultimate defense of indifference.

Sasuke became curious and went to Shikkotsu forest to know what a princess was doing there. When he arrived, he found no trace of her and thought she had left. He was about to leave, when he heard a rustling sound behind him. He turned, sighing that the intruder hadn’t left. Before he could say anything, the same fragile lady had already released an arrow from the bow.

He hadn’t expected much, but even less had he expected to meet her in the middle of Shikkotsu forest with blood dripping out from his chest where her arrow had pierced him. A pair of perplexed green eyes pierced his onyx while he struggled to stand straight but failed and stumbled to the ground.

Sakura didn’t realise she had shot the man she had been waiting for instead of some intruder until she took a minute to tally the features that Kakashi had supplied her with. Chiseled jawline, one visible onyx eye and another hidden under his raven locks, a face that was sharp as blade, and an expression hard as rock. The visible anger in his eye and the scowl that marred his face was undeniably attractive.

Sakura rushed towards him, bracing him in her arms. She could feel his ragged breathing tickling on her shoulders as he mumbled, “Sakura?”

Her eyes widened, but before she could brace herself for the next blow, she spoke out, “I’ve been waiting for you, Sasuke.”

She was bewildered, and he was unconscious. She stayed still, contemplating the situation. They were meeting for the first time. They’d never known each other, and they didn't know each other’s name, yet how smoothly their names rolled out of each other tongues.

When Sasuke gained consciousness, he saw a mop of messy pink hair. Although he felt his blood boiling because never in his whole life had he been knocked unconscious, but the presence of the woman whose back he could see pacified him. He didn’t know how, but it did. His throat was dry and his lips felt chapped, and he coughed, notifying his intruder that he was awake.

Sakura turned towards her intruder, getting off from her place where she was crushing and mixing some herbs with a mortar and pestle. She offered him water and apologised for earlier. Sasuke’s sour expression told her that her apology wasn’t accepted. She sighed, berating herself for the mistake. She had shot the man she had been waiting for.

How was she supposed to fix this?

Her fingers trembled as she layered herbs on his wound. She could feel his heart beating, and it felt oddly familiar — like she was well versed with the rhythm.

“How do you know my name?” She broke the silence.

Sasuke gave her a confused look, and then it dawned upon him that he had never met her before. He was speechless, somewhat unable to explain and somewhat lost in her eyes. What was happening to him? Whenever he looked into those deep green abysses, he felt he was losing, and for the first time ever, it felt good.

One day while Sakura was nursing him, she shared with him the prophecy she’d been told, ignoring his gruff and uninterested look. Sasuke walked away from her, stating he had been alone since birth and intended to be that way. He tried to sneak out, but Sakura demanded that he should stay until he was healed. He didn’t want to comply because he never had to anyone, but somehow the concern in her face made him. It felt good — someone worried for him — someone taking care of him.

He later regretted his decision when Sakura became too comfortable with him.

He was on his side trying to get some sleep when Sakura asked him out of nowhere, “What does freedom feel like?”

He glared at her, irritated she had interrupted his sweet sleep.

Next when she was coaxing him to eat something, and Sasuke sat there looking outside at the falling rain without responding to her tantrums, Sakura huffed in anger, “Why don’t you at least talk?”

He couldn’t explain what he had felt when he saw her sleeping face under the moonlight. It felt like anesthesia — lulling his senses — sending him to a deeper state of peacefulness. All the years of fighting, slaying and punishing wrong-doers started to feel futile. He snuck out of the forest that night because he knew he would be destroyed if he stayed with her any longer.

Prophecy was working in the background, and something unexpected happened. He found himself again at Shikkotsu forest with, finding way back to Sakura.

“Welcome back.”

When he found Sakura smiling back at him — smiling for him — he felt he had made the right decision to return

He was fishing for lunch while Sakura sat beside him, gazing at the floating clouds. She asked, breaking the silence, “Does freedom feel like this? Being you and doing all you want.”

He turned towards her, and noticed a wistful smile playing on her lips and offered, “I will show you, if you come with me.”

Every god and demigod was astonished. They have never seen Sasuke, the lone wanderer, indulging in life, bonds, or attachments. Kakashi sipped wine while watching Sasuke fall passionately in love.

The news spread like fire, and it didn’t take much time to reach Tsunade’s ears. She was infuriated and commanded her army to drag Sakura back. Before Sakura could explain the unexplainable bond that had developed between them, Tsunade lashed out at her. She criticized both Sakura’s decision and the man who she had given her heart. Sakura was put under watch, locked up in a room as punishment for her actions.

Perhaps punishing her for the fate that she carried from the day when she was born.

The decision was hers — to be caged and become The Queen or to flee and embrace freedom.

She chose the latter. Chose the path that the prophecy had led her to. Chose the stranger who had tugged the strings of her heart.

In the darkness of night as the horse galloped, Sakura looked back for the last time, and the kingdom disappeared on the horizon with a new life waiting for her.

She had everything, yet she had felt empty. When she abandoned everything, she felt complete.

When Sakura stepped into their new abode, she found piles of snow and chilly winds blowing around. She had spent part of her life under warm sunshine and the royal ceiling. For a princess, it was difficult to adjust, but alongside all adversities, there was unadulterated love — love that had lifted the weight of expectations of royal duties from her shoulders. She felt like home, the feeling Konoha couldn’t give her.

Now she spent her days carelessly. Some days she would rest her head on his shoulder and look at the horizon as far as her eyes would allow. Some days they would travel, disguising themselves as commoners. And at those moments, she took liberty of her newfound freedom — forgetting she was a goddess — and mingled with people of unknown places.

And Sasuke let her be random and spontaneous — like him.

Perhaps this was the freedom she yearned for and had searched all over these years. Sasuke didn’t teach her how to live. Instead, his presence influenced her. She would sit silently and watch with awe when he stayed still and meditated or practiced with his sword.

The one who never knew the meaning of home had made a home at the top of The Three Wolves Mountain. Sasuke, who hadn’t known feelings, started feeling multitudes of emotions. Love and companionship were the words he had despised, but now he could understand why his counterpart, Naruto, bragged about them. Sakura made his existence meaningful, showing him beauty in the things he had often dismissed.

Her presence never became a chain for him, and she never overstepped her boundaries or meddled with Sasuke’s work. He still had a clear view of judgement, with a pinch of compassion that he had learned from her. He hadn’t shed his furious demeanor, but he reconsidered his motives before acting.

Sasuke as the world knew him had untamed passion, which led him to be extreme in behaviour. Sometimes he was an ascetic — abstaining from worldly pleasure. At others he was a hedonist — indulging every bit in marital bliss.

Living with Sakura brought him balance.

****

Part II

“Don’t you understand? You’re the future Queen. You can’t fall in love with someone who has nothing and is a lunatic murderer.”

Tsunade’s blood had been boiling with anger when she learned about the prophecy that had been crafted right under her nose. She had believed that her daughter was innocent, and it was just a filthy trick that Kakashi was playing on her until she had heard Sakura pleading.

“Please let me go.”

Honey-colored eyes filled with anger and hurt glanced towards Sakura.

Sakura spoke again, albeit afraid of Tsunade. After that, Tsunade didn't lock Sakura away. She wanted to test Sakura’s resolve — test her loyalty and love towards her and Konoha.

The next morning she was greeted with the news that the princess had eloped.

If she wanted to, she could have hunted her down, but Tsunade clearly remembered Sakura’s final words from their last conversation.

“I want to live with Sasuke… I don’t want to live here anymore.”

Although she allowed Sakura to become part of Sasuke’s life, she never accepted them, and she could never forget the sting of Sakura’s words. She hated Sasuke more for taking Sakura away from her.

After some years had passed, Tsunade decided to hold a festival in the honor of the good harvest that had sprouted from the Land of Fire. She invited every god and demigod, every lord across the nation, even the commoners and beggars. She wanted to share the happiness that she had lost after she had last seen her daughter. She couldn’t lie to herself that she still loved Sakura dearly, although she had disowned her from her heart and cared less about her whereabouts.

That’s the price Sakura would pay, she thought, because everyone was welcomed, except Sasuke and Sakura.

While Sakura and Sasuke were enjoying their routine of sitting together in silence, Sakura noticed a lot of traffic — the finest of chariots, all the lords, gods and goddesses going somewhere dressed immaculately.

Sasuke noticed she was distracted by the commotion. He knew exactly what was happening and where all of them were going, but he said nothing.

Sakura couldn’t hold back her curiosity and she asked, “What is this? Where is everyone going?”

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t need to go where they are going,” Sasuke replied, ignoring her.

Sakura knew the roads the others traveled led towards her old home. She became more restless, and she asked Sasuke again, “It seems like everyone is going to Konoha. Is something happening there?”

“Don’t bother yourself. We are fine here,” Sasuke replied curtly.

Seeing Sakura disappointed, he finally let out his biggest insecurity, “Are you unhappy here?”

“No, I’m happy here,” Sakura smiled, giving up on her curiosity.

The next day when she saw the same, she didn’t pester Sasuke again. Instead she stopped one of the chariots and asked them, “Where are you all going?”

They replied, “Don’t you know? There’s a big festival in Konoha, and your mother has invited all of us. Are you not coming?”

She felt totally lost when she came to know that she and her husband had not been invited. She felt disgraced and humiliated. She thought it wasn’t fair to her and Sasuke.

She was deeply bothered by this and decided, “I am going to my mother. Why did she do this?”

Sasuke said, “It doesn’t matter to me. Why are you getting worked up? We are fine here. Why should we go to the festival?”

Sakura was so insulted that she wasn’t invited that she didn’t want to listen to anything. Although she knew she had fled from the Kingdom without her mother's permission, she was sure Tsunade still loved her like she loved Tsunade.

She argued, “No, I have to go. There must be some kind of mistake. Maybe the invitation was lost. How can she not invite you and me? I am her daughter.”

Sasuke reasoned, “You left her for me. I don’t see anything unusual in not inviting you.”

Sakura stomped out of their abode infuriated, “My mother isn’t like that. I am sure she wouldn’t do this.”

Sasuke knew there was no point in arguing so he sent his most faithful snake Aoda as escort and pleaded with her not to provoke any incident.

When Sakura reached the huge gates of Konoha, she didn’t find any resistance, but the old familiar people were cold and inhospitable. She ordered Aoda to stay outside, and she walked towards the palace. She was trying to respond to the odd vibes that people were giving her by smiling at everyone while she made her way to her mother. The place and the people seemed to be changed, or was she changed? Perhaps Sasuke was right, but she was too stubborn to accept that. She ignored all the cold glares and mocking tones and went into the palace, still believing that there was some kind of a mistake.

“Mother,” Sakura greeted and bowed when she found Tsunade.

“Mother?” Tsunade spat back. Tsunade was furious. She never thought Sakura would have the audacity to show her face again and to call her mother.

“My daughter died the day when she turned her back on the Kingdom.”

Sakura was on the verge of crying out, because Tsunade made it clear that Sasuke’s words were the truth. She wanted to leave, but she didn’t. She wanted to know why Tsunade had always despised Sasuke. Why he himself, being a God, was not acknowledged by The Queen.

She asked Tsunade, holding back her tears, “How can you not invite Sasuke?”

Tsunade abused Sasuke in every possible way, and she added, “I will never have him step into my Kingdom.”

She could swallow her own pride and could take more insults, but she couldn’t stand more to her mother dishonoring Sasuke. Soon they were in the midst of a heated argument, and every passing moment made it clearer to Sakura that her mother was entirely incapable of appreciating the many excellent qualities that her husband possessed. She was consumed by rage against her mother and loathed her mentality.

The realization then came to her that this abuse was being heaped on Sasuke more only because he had wed her. She was the cause of dishonor to her husband. She was so crestfallen that her love had brought more hatred for Sasuke. Sasuke gave her love, yet she had brought him disgrace.

She was shaking with raw anger, tears welling out of her green eyes. She wanted others to acknowledge Sasuke like she did — pure and gentle behind his facade. She thought with her life she could show that to the world.

She didn’t want to be there, but neither did she want to go back to The Three Wolves Mountain. She walked towards the fire from where she was born. She didn’t want to live a life where her love bore hatred to Sasuke. Calling up a prayer, that in future birth, to be born in a house where Sasuke was respected, Sakura invoked divine powers and burned herself.

If she had to die and take birth again to restore his honor, she would die million times.

When Aoda came back and told him about what had happened in Konoha, Sasuke sat still for a certain period. He felt all the happiness, all the colors that Sakura brought with her fading — he felt his sanity leaving. How could he let Sakura go? How dare she do such a thing?

Sakura had given him love and a home — things that were unknown to him. How dare she leave for such an insignificant reason? She was his pride and honor, and he didn’t need any appreciation from others. How could she have misunderstood that? He didn’t need the pride which took her away from him. Thus he shed his sanity that was straining him to wreak havoc — he became fire. For the first time, he became disillusioned and decided to take revenge on the innocents.

Burning with incomparable rage, he used the mighty powers of his eyes and burned the whole kingdom using Amaterasu. They had provoked her to burn herself, hence he watched everyone and everything that had snatched his wife from him burn.

When the flames inside him and of Amaterasu had subsided, he realised how ungodly he had acted. He let his emotions rule over his actions, but hadn’t he given in to his emotions since he had met Sakura? Maybe he had always despised emotions, because he was afraid he would get drowned in them and could never manage to reach the shore again.

His work was to destroy the elements that couldn't be fixed. He was broken and his emotions were far from repairable. After the throes of romance, death and grief, he decided to destroy the emotions that had been born in him because of Sakura.

He had loved Sakura more than any and would never love after her.

He had allowed himself the luxury once and when it was over, he came out of it and went into an indifferent state again. He went into meditation for many years, deeply upset over the death of his wife, ignoring all his duties.

****

Every destruction acted as a progenitor. Within the barren and burned hectares of the Land of Fire, a small village was born after many years. The village was always covered in spring blossoms, and the people were merry, carefree, and had a profound belief in Gods and their power. They revered Sasuke most, considering him the progenitor of beginning that had given a chance to sow over barren land and produce bountifully. They were hard workers, but humble enough to believe in the grace of Gods.

Sasuke, unaware of the fact, still meditated, grieving for his wife. Still unaware that his beloved had already taken birth again...

Sakura was reborn as a human — the daughter of Kizashi, the leader of Haruno tribe and his wife, Mebuki. This time, Sakura, as she had wished, was born to a family where Sasuke was worshiped ardently.

Sakura, unaware of her past, the prophecy, and the tragedy grew into a beautiful woman. Many lords asked her for marriage, but she always denied them. She always had an innate feeling that someone already had taken her heart, but she didn’t know who.

When Kakashi came to know that the goddess had lost the memories of her previous birth, he appeared in front of her parents. Regretting the path he had taken last time, he confronted her parents about her previous birth, the prophecy, and the fate that linked Sasuke and their daughter.

Kizashi and Mebuki were overwhelmed with joy after knowing this. However, Sakura was skeptical about it and questioned Kakashi.

“Go to Shikkotsu Forest. The answers to all your questions lie there,” Kakashi advised.

Sakura, with her parents’ permission, went to Shikkotsu forest, and as she spent days under the canopy where she had found her freedom once, she learned from Katsuyu to whom her heart belonged.

The moment when she remembered all about her past, she grew restless. At once she left for The Three Wolves Mountain — Sasuke’s home — their home. When she reached there, she found Sasuke lost in meditation.

Years passed, but she waited for Sasuke to open his eyes and to look at her and realize that she was there — as promised.

But Sasuke was deeply lost.

Although a human this time, Sakura was still stubborn.

She sat there in spite of the bitter chilly winds that rattled her bones. She didn’t move an inch to gather food even though her stomach hurt from hunger. She didn’t blink her eyes in spite of how much they threatened to close because of exhaustion.

Perhaps love was invincible — the strongest force that again moved the coldest heart.

Sasuke opened his eyes after many uncountable years. Something that he couldn’t pinpoint had stirred him out of his deep state. He rose in fury. How could anyone dare do that? Wasn’t tricking him once enough?

He swore he would see the death of the person who had disturbed him. He walked outside to see a lady whose head and shoulders were covered with snow, shivering.

His brows knitted in irritation because no one had stepped in The Three Wolves Mountain except Sakura.

The lady straightened herself, feeling his presence. Sasuke wasn’t ready to listen to any of her justifications.

Because no had stepped in their abode except Sakura, and no one would.

****

Although he was elated to see her again, what Sakura has done was unforgivable. Sasuke was bewildered. All these years of abandoning his emotions fell away when he felt a surge of love and hatred, fear and longing, hurt and comfort coursed through him.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to live with regrets and guilt earlier,” Sakura confessed to him, filling up the details of the past.

He realised the diamond mark on her forehead was gone. She was still beautiful and the smile he had longed to see was still graceful. Undoubtedly, she was Sakura, his wife. She was no longer a goddess though. She had sacrificed her divine powers for him.

He was scared to lose her again. He didn’t want to believe in the prophecy that had once taken Sakura away from her, but he listened peacefully to everything.

“This time will be different. Trust me, I'm not leaving you anywhere,” Sakura smiled, and assured Sasuke.

Who was Sasuke to defy her plea? Their love was weaved in the form of prophecy which defied cycles of lifes and deaths. No matter how far they go, they are bound to be together at the end.

#fantasysasusaku #SasuSaku #sasusaku fic #sakura haruno #naruto shippuden #day 6 #soulmate #prophecy #reincarnation #SasuSaku Fantasy AU

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transformationstuck · 3 years

Text

Amalagam Story

Jane was practically sick of trolls at this point. Ever since the entire fiasco had went down, her father gone, and the rise of complaints against her campaign by the majority of the troll population, she wanted them gone from this Earth. It had been a single month since she had deported most of the trolls using small legal constraints to other planets, where they’d continue with their meaningless banter of trying to disobey her. Why, she had been trying her hardest to conform the trolls to her ways, and look where that got her! Nowhere. Frankly, the next time she was going to see a candy corn horn, there was going to be a reckoning.

And yet there was no avoiding it. The twelve initial trolls who had assisted in the beta session remained within the galaxy. Some were taken care of, however discretely. She had devised Nepeta’s ship to crash into one of the deadliest planet to ever live in, and while she expectantly made herself the apex predators against all the face-sucking, marrow-gnawing monstrosities that lived on the planet, she had no way out. Kanaya was permanently disposed off with Rose after an indefinite honeymoon, with a small gift. Perhaps calling it small was the wrong thing, but she sure hoped Rose enjoyed pounding onto her wife like an animal in heat, because that’s practically what those two would be. Both Aradia and Vriska were off the books, considering the former was always missing and off doing something and the latter was currently the leader of the rebellion against her. Terezi and Feferi were far too important people in her campaign to even consider removing their existence, so she would have to simply tolerate them. After all, any legal issues regarding trolls would be pushed by the Pyrope and the former Heiress gave her such political power with her blood color. That left, coincidentally, all the male trolls.

And wasn’t it John’s birthday soon anyways? Might as well prepare him a gift.

——–

The first one was easy. All it took was two drones, a burlap sack, and there was a rather large lump of troll in front of her desk, with two ridiculously large horns protruding out of it.

“I didn’t ask for him to literally bring him to me. Look at the mess he’s making on the carpet! That’s just vacuumed! Get him out of here!”

The drones obeyed, though finding themselves difficulty immediately upon a certain conundrum.

“Tilt him sideways. SIDEWAYS! Why are you rotating him vertically? I meant horizontally! I know the horn is stuck. Just back off, don’t use brute force and…”

CRACK!

As Jane felt a pressure build on her neck, she decided that whenever trolls were involved, so were her migraines.

———

“… What did I tell you about bringing him to me LITERALLY? Again with the carpet? Do you know how difficult honey is to wipe off a carpet? Have you even baked before? Obviously you haven’t baked before, but I’ll do it myself this time. Just… dump him! In the vat! Now shoo!”

———–

“… Just put a sock in his mouth and get it over with.”

———-

“Yoo hoo, handsome. I got a surprise for you~.” The hallway was empty save for a lumbering figure, who seemed rather confused and tilting his head quizically, to the point where his head was rotating in a perpendicular manner. That was most certainly not the way a head should rotate, and the fact that she was wearing nothing but a single sheet of apron was already making her feel more vulnerable.

“Come on, handsome. I know you want it.” She held up a pie, which was green and what she would consider the complete disregard for basic culinary needs. A single whiff was more than enough to make her feel disgusted, and she wondered how anyone could even take a bite off of it.

Still no response, which meant that she had to bring out the big guns. Taking a deep breath, Jane winked, twice, and each wink followed by a short honk.

That did it, as the juggalo basically launched himself, erect cock showing through his stupid codpiece, and Jane found herself wanting to fall for the same mistake of letting the clown in her bedsheet again.

Click.

As Gamzee fell down the trapdoor she had long since set up in case something like this would ever happen, Jane sighed with relief, rubbing her head, and massaging her boob. “God, I actually should get a dick some time soon… And preferably not a clown’s…”

———

“… Excuse me, correct me if I’m hearing this right.”

A rather muscular troll, sweating profusely and smelling like a hung horse and a broken engine sat in front of her desk. The poor furniture was now drenched, and already a dark circle was forming underneath the carpet.

“You want in on this project. After I kidnapped you friends? Condemn them to a horrible experiment that’ll leave their body gone, potentially the mind, and you want in on this?”

A nod. And a sigh from her direction, before she tugged lightly on the rope that was currently binding Equius’s neck.

“You know I was going to disregard you since you were somewhat helpful, right?”

Another nod. Another tug. The troll’s face began to glow bluer by the second, but that deranged smile of him absolutely wanting this behind the leather restraints made her think of all trolls were like this.

Especially when he had been like this for the past three hours.

“I swear, trolls…” She waved to her drones to take him away, but it seemed like the ingredients were complete.

Though she felt like she was forgetting something, she was sure it wasn’t that important if she could remember it.

———

In front of her stood approximately 1000 lb of troll flesh, complete with 5 pairs of horns, 5 pairs of misplaced arms and legs, the most obvious bulges ever, some obviously aroused, and few facial features which she proceeded to shut up. The process was going to be painstakingly simple, as she started to channel the Life into the body.

It hadn’t taken much for her to channel the five into a single blob majorly for safekeeping. She couldn’t risk any of them breaking out and spoiling her plan, so she had made them into what was a large meatball, feeding them all the surplus baked goods until they grew fat and complacent, and practically no traces of bone structure remained from the excessive flesh gained from consumption.

Push, knead. Push, knead. Minute by minute, the flesh began to sink underneath her hands, folding and mixing until gray became pink, round shape forming into more humanoid, a thousand pounds now beginning to dwindle into approximately one tenth of its original weight.

It was then that she called John.

“John.” She said with a quick, snappy tone that immediately informed her ecto-grandson that she meant business. “If you were looking for a relationship, what would you look for in a woman?”

“… What?” A click of her tongue immediately made John regret questioning Jane. There was something about her that intimidated him ever since her campaign began, but still, the question remained. “I mean… Nice, I guess? If you are asking about her personality o-”

“I meant a sexual relationship. Jesus Christ, get on with it!”

“Right, right. So uh… huge boobs.” Silence from her end was interpreted as a signal to continue as she proceeded to knead whatever was left over into a round shape, over the currently very flat chest with little to no definition. “I mean, some serious honkers. A real set of badonkers, packing some dobonhonkeros. Massive dohoonkabankl-”

“John!”

“Right… Uh… Big ol’ tonhongerekoogers.” With that, John paused, and added, “And some thighs please. I like them thick.”

———–

It wasn’t long before Jane was done, staring at her masterpiece she had taken three hours of pure Life to create. An hourglass figure, melon-sized titties, and the very definition of thunder thighs. It wasn’t long before they started moving, which, at that point, she wasn’t exactly sure what happened. One moment they had been lying down unconscious, the next thing, they were, and each limbs proceeded to move completely independent of each other. It wasn’t until she stuffed the horse-dildo in their seemingly very aroused entrance with rough force did they proceed to break out of her lab through sheer willpower.

It wasn’t long before she found her, though not directly. She had left her be for now, and it seemed that, as intended, John had found her first.

The various names mixed together had mistakenly led John to believe she was named “Etiquette.” Though a strange name, she had come a long way from being five different trolls to one hot little body. Sure, disjointed complaints and moans of pleasure occasionally seemed to confuse John, as well as her habit of talking to herself, but once she got in bed, he had no complaints. Sometimes she demanded a larger dildo stuffed down her ass. Sometimes she wanted to do nothing but videogames. Sometimes she started honking like a clown as she rode John cowgirl style, which obviously terrified John as much as it aroused him. It did leave Jane to wonder if they all shared an internal voice, or argued over what to do next, seizing control or each other? Or perhaps they got adapted to controlling their body in a uniform style? Or perhaps all of their personality got melded into one. Jane could potentially find out, but decided against it. As she closed the feed of John pounding Etiquette to the next pleasure-town, the way her fingers and toes twitched, her arms and legs occasionally moving as opposed to how she was acting, she knew that at the very least she got rid of an eyesore.

#discord submission #submission

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karmaholmes221 · 3 years

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Vicomte de Phantom II

Pier 69

Paris, 1895- A mysterious fire consumed the Opera Populaire. A mob rampaged through the theatre's twisted catacombs baying for the masked man they held responsible. Only his mask was ever found...

I flicked a strand of wet hair out of my face and began messing with the sleeves of my dress. It was busy down at the piers for this time during the day as relatives stood and waited for the disembarking passengers to make their way through the custom house. I stumbled slightly as I was jarred by a young man, who rushed past me to join a rather large crowd just outside the gates. Unable to extinguish my curiosity, I moved closer to see what all the commotion was about, slipping into the crowd of reporters, photographers, well-wishers, and gawkers without notice. The man, who was clearly a latecomer, turned to the man beside him.

“Has the Persephone docked yet?” he panted.

The man nodded. ”Yeah, the passengers are going through customs now.”

”Here they come!” A young woman whispered loudly to the two men as the first of the passengers made their way through the gate.

”It’s Mrs Astor!” one of the reporters called as a portly lady wearing an enormous plumed hat stepped through the gates, being escorted by a dapper gentleman.

”Hey, Mrs Astor! Over here!” the photographer called. Mrs Astor turned and several flashbulbs went off.

”How was your trip?” one reporter asked.

”Is that the latest Paris style?” another called.

Mrs. Astor just smiled and blew them a kiss before turning away and allowing herself to be escorted to her waiting carriage.

”Look, there’s Colonel Vanderbilt!” A young man near the front of the crowd called.

”Hey, Colonel, enjoyed those French pastries, did you?” the reporter asked.

Vanderbilt smiled broadly. “There’s nothing there we don’t have bigger and better over here, I assure you.”

”Thanks Colonel!” the photographer said loudly, trying to be heard over the chattering crowd. The Colonel smiled indulgently, patting his ample waistline lightly as the photographers flashbulbs went off before moving off to hail a carriage.

”Hey, there she is!” Someone yelled and all heads turn to the gates, I glanced over, only slightly curious as to the reason to who this mystery person was that they were all standing here waiting for and felt my breath catch in my throat at what I saw.

There, framed in the gateway, clutching the hand of a young boy, stood Christine Daae’. She was nearly obscured by veils and a cloche hat but she was gorgeous, iconic, every inch a star. There was a moment of awed silence as I tried to reign in my pounding heart and push the dread that was seeping through me away. ‘Why, after all these years, why did she have to show her face here, in this town? If Erik finds out she’s here…’ I refused to complete the thought, I didn’t want to think about how far Erik would go to regain his hold on the former prima donna. I pushed the thoughts away as the crowd burst into pandemonium as flashbulbs exploded and the reporters and photographers began shouting, all vying for Christine’s attention.

Christine remained silent, pulling the boy at her side closer to her and wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders as a familiar voice rose above the shouts of the crowd. “Her name is Madame de Chagny! Stand aside! Stand aside, please!” As Raoul appeared through the gate, I couldn’t stop myself I gasped. The woman just ahead of me glanced back but I could hardly find it in me to care. It was Raoul, older and slightly more weathered looking than I remembered, but still the same man that I had been married to all those years ago, still dapper and handsome and, in this moment, brusque irate. “No pictures, do you hear? No pictures of my wife, no pictures of the boy!”

”Hey Christine, why Coney Island?” one reporter called.

”Your first concert in years, why ain’t you singing at the Met?” A reporter in front of me, a young man with ink stains on his shirt, called out and Raoul looked towards him, a dignified look on his face.

“The Vicomtesse has been engaged by the well-known impresario –”

”Well-known?!”

No one’s ever seen the guy” the same reporter cut him off, before launching another into another question. ”How’d he lure the great Christine Daaé over here, anyways?”

”It’s the money, right? All that American moolah!” The photographer said mockingly.

”Hey Christine, whatcha gonna sing, “Yankee Doodle Moolah”?”A man in the crowd called and the people around him sniggered.

Raoul turned towards where the man’s voice had come from. “My wife is an artist, sir - - !” Raoul began heatedly.

”Yeah, and her art is paying off your gambling debts, is what they’re saying in France.” The photographer scoffed. I was hit with a moment of surprise at the news, I had heard of there financial burden because of some poor investments but I hadn’t realized how badly off they must be if Christine was coming out of retirement to pay their debts off.

”Is it true you left your entire fortune on a roulette table in Monte Carlo?” the reporter asked and Raoul’s eyes blazed angrily. “Why, you insolent jackal! How dare you -” Raoul said taking several steps toward the reporter.

“Father-” The boy began in a quiet voice that was unlike either of his parents.

“Not now, Gustave!” Raoul snapped as reporters turned their questions on the boy.

”Hey kid, how does it feel to have a famous mother?”

”This is your first time in America?”

”What do you plan to do here at Coney?”

The child glanced around shyly, clearly not sure how to handle the attention. ”I… want to learn how to swim.” He said quietly. There were hoots and laughs from the crowd and I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of sympathy for the boy shrinking back against his mother.

”I said, leave the child alone!” Raoul snapped, glancing around anxiously. “For God’s sake, didn’t this Mr Y send someone to receive us?”

I felt another stab of shock at the sound of Erik’s new name here. It was the name he had been using in the public eye at least, to me he was still Erik. The shock gave way to anger as I realized that he had been in contact with Christine and Raoul, however vaguely, while I had been forced to sever all ties with everyone in Paris because of his actions. I was brought out of my thoughts as the boy suddenly became very animated, he stepped forward and pointed at something across courtyard. “Mother, look..?Right over there… Across the square.. What is it?”

Everyone turned and I wasn’t surprised to see the sight of Erik’s carriage, fancifully designed with horses that were entirely mechanical and a driver whose face was completely obscured. The crowd around me began to buzz as words of astonishment, wonder, and even fear were thrown back and forth. “What on earth could it be?”

“I’ve never seen such a thing before in my life!”

“Damn strange, that’s what it is!”

“The most peculiar conveyance!”

Suddenly the door of the carriage opened and three familiar figures extricated themselves from the vehicle. I ground my teeth as the three figures bowed in unison to the crowd before turning to approach Christine and her family with their usual bizarre yet beautiful motions. “Are you ready to begin? Are you ready to get on? You’re about to start out on the journey of your lives.” Squelch said before reaching behind the child’s ear and pulling out a colored handkerchief.

” Is this some kind of joke?” Raoul demanded, his voice filled to the brim with bewildered outrage.

One of the onlookers closest to Raoul scoffed. “No, it’s a publicity stunt for that freak show on Coney!”

”It’s a front page feature, is what it is! You getting this, Smitty?” One of the reporters asked his photographer as he rushed to write in a small, leather book and I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of such good publicity for free.

There was yet another flash from the photographer’s camera.“You betcha!” he replied, taking yet another picture.

Gangle stepped forward. “If you’re ready, then get in. Once you’re in, then we’ll get gone. And who knows, once it goes, Where you’ll be when it arrives?” Gangle spoke and, in one fluid motion, he had removed Raoul’s top hat and suddenly made it vanish into thin air.

“This is outrageous!” Raoul snapped as the crowd began to murmur again, this time in approval.

“It’s amazing!”

”Brilliant!”

”I’m telling ya, that Mr Y is an absolute genius!”

Gangle and Squelch quickly moved to flank the family and walked them towards the carriage as the bird-like Fleck beckoned them forward. “It’s a fun house where the mirrors all reflect what’s real.” Fleck said mysteriously.

“And reality’s as twisted as the mirrors reveal.” Fleck and Gangle whispered.

Squelch added his voice to the mix. “And the fun is finding out what the mirrors show…” By now the whole group had reached the carriage and Christine was helped into it as Raoul continued to protest.

“This is unacceptable, do you hear me? I will be taking this up with your employer! Whoever he is!” Raoul snapped as he was finally coaxed into the carriage, leaving only the boy, Gustave, outside it.

Gustave gazed at the carriage and then at the crowd, his face and voice excited as he spoke.”Everything and everyone, it’s all just how I dreamed…All the freaks, and all the fun, exactly how I dreamed…And Phantasma still awaits…Wonder what’s behind its gates…” The boy climbed into the carriage and it silently rolled off as the onlookers watched, speechless. As the carriage disappeared from view I quickly turned on my heel and began to push my way through the crowd, catching snatches of conversation. ”That was something’, wasn’t it?” A boy who couldn’t be older than sixteen told the woman who was hanging on his arm.

”I was hoping she’d sing. Caruso sang half of Pagliacco for us when he got off the boat.” A woman complained to her friend.

“I bet she ain’t got it no more, not like the old days. Sure, she’s pitch perfect… But empty inside, like the flame went out or something’.” One of the reporters said simply, digging in his coat for a match.

I slipped passed a woman who looked to be my age as she suddenly began pointing to the arrival gates, calling out to the crowd. ”Look! It’s the Rockefellers!”

I finally made it through the last few people and slipped down the busy street, a plan forming in my head. I veered off the main street and into a dismal back alley. I would take a shortcut back to Coney Island and Phantasma, and I would find out exactly what was going on.

#part 5 #romance #phantom #opera #love never dies #erik destler #raoul #fanfiction #vicomte de phantom II

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moonlitmagic · 4 years

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Constellation Compendium: The Zodiac (part 1)

We all know the 12 basic zodiac signs and what they represent, but what about their stories? This is a look into the mythology behind the zodiac constellations, and what some of their correspondences could be based on these myths.

Aries 🔥

In Hellenistic astrology, Aries is the ram which bore the golden fleece. Aries rescued Phrixos and Helle, children of king Athamas and his first wife Nephele. Ino, his second wife, was jealous of Nephele, and wished to kill Phrixos and Helle. To do this she induced a famine, then lied to Athamas saying that the oracle prophesised that sacrificing Phrixos would end the famine. Athamas climbed to the top of Mounth Laphystium. Nephele prayed to Zeus to help her children, and Zeus answered her prayers by sending Aries. Just as he was about to throw Phrixos off the mountain, Aries arrived to stop him. Unfortunately, Helle fell from Aries’s back during the flight, and drowned. Once returned, Phrixos sacrificed the ram to Zeus and gave the fleese to Aeetus in exchange for marriage to his daughter. Aeetus hung the fleece, known as the golden fleece, in a sacred place guarded by a dragon. In a later myth, the golden fleece was stolen by the hero Jason and the Argonauts.

Correspondences: action, heroism, recklessness, speed, fighting, sacrifice

Taurus 🐂

This constellation has been given myth and stories through the ages across many different cultures. For now, we’ll focus on the Greek mythology, because many other zodiac constellations are also found in greek myth. Taurus represents Zeus, who took the form of a white bull in order to abduct Europa, the Phonecian Princess. Some say that Taurus’s front half is only depicted to represent his submersion as he carried Europa out to sea, carrying her to the island of Crete where they had children. In other versions of the myth, Taurus represents Io, one of Zeus’s lovers whom he transformed into a bull to hide her from Hera.

Correspondences: love, escape, determination, renewal of life

Gemini ♊

This constellation is associated with the Greek myth of the twins Castor and Pollux. Castor was mortal, being son of a king, while Pollux was immortal, being son of Zeus. Castor was a good horseman, and Pollux was a good fighter. They were created to save sailors from trouble at sea. At sea, they were thought to appear as St. Elmo’s Fire. The twins joined the hero Jason on the Argo to save the ship from a terrible storm. When Castor died in battle, Pollux begged Zeus to make him immortal. Zeus granted his son’s wishes, placing them both in the sky as constellations, so that they could spend half of their time on Earth during the day, and the other half in the sky at night. Because of their heroic assistance to Jason and the Argo, when sailors saw both stars in the sky it was a sure sign of safe travels. However, only seeing one of the twins was bad luck.

Correspondences: siblings, safety, travel, teamwork, duality

Cancer 🌙

Cancer was the crab sent by Hera to destroy Heralces, her enemy. This is because Heracles was one of Zeus’s illegitimate children and Zeus’s power was stronger in him than the others. Cancer approached Heracles while he was fighting the Hydra, and latched onto his foot. Before killing the Hydra, Heracles turned to Cancer and killed the crab. To honor Cancer’s obedience and sacrifice, Hera placed it amongst the stars.

Correspondences: loyalty, hanging on, distraction, persistence, sacrifice

Leo ☀️

In Greek mythology, Leo is represented by the Nemean lion which was killed by Heracles in the first of his twelve labours. The Nemean lion would capture women and bring them to his cave in order to lure heroes to come and rescue them, only to fall to their demise. No weapons were able to kill this beast, so Heracles killed it with only his hands, breaking the lion’s back. Since the lion’s pelt was so invincible, Heracles took the lion’s own claw to skin the pelt from it’s back, and wore it as a cloak for protection. To commemorate the lion, Zeus placed it in the sky.

Correspondences: guard, protection, invincibility, lure, determination

Virgo 🌱

Virgo is associated with the goddess Demeter, usually depicted with an ear of corn, and symbolizing fertility and harvest. Sometimes it is alternatively linked to Astraea, goddess of innocence and purity. In the creation myth, when Zeus sent Pandora to Earth and she released plagues and suffering, the gods returned to the heavens one by one. Astraea was the last to leave Earth, making her the primary caretaker of humanity, and it is said that when the Golden Age comes again, Astraea will return to Earth. It is debated whether or not Virgo is represented by Astraea, or her mother Themis, goddess of justice.

Correspondences: purity, harvest, creation, life, fertility, choice, justice, humanity, caretaking

Libra ⚖

Libra is represented by the scales, said to be the scales that the goddess Astraea held. It is also linked to Themis, mother of Astraea, as they sit beside one another in the sky.

Correspondences: justice, balance, humanity, choice, caretaking

Scorpio 🌊

The story of Scorpio is intertwined with the story of Orion. The giant hunter was the son of Poseidon and Euryale, and became Artemis’s hunting partner. This made Apollo, twin of Artemis, jealous. He asked Mother Earth to create a giant scorpion to kill Orion. The scorpion stung and killed Orion, and Zeus placed them both in the sky. In other versions of the myth, Orion had claimed to want to hunt and kill every animal on the Earth. This angered Gaia, mother of the Earth, and she sent Scorpio to kill him. The scorpion stung Orion, and Gaia placed him in the sky for his bravery and for saving the lives of all the animals. During the winter, Orion was allowed to hunt freely, but as spring came Scorpio rose in the sky, chasing the Orion constellation out of the sky.

Correspondences: jealousy, hunting, overcoming adversity, ambition, chasing, “stinging”

Sagittarius 🏹

Though this post is mostly focused on Greek myth, the Sagittarius constellation becomes difficult to explain without discussing the Babylonian influence. For Babylonains, Sagittaruis represented the god Nergal, who was half horse half human and had a second panther’s head, as well as a scorpion’s tail, and fired a bow and arrow through the sky. This god was identified as “Chief Ancestor” or “Forefather.” In Greek mythology, Sagittarius is represented as a centaur, but the bow and arrow comes from earlier Sumerian myth. Some say that Sagittarius represents the centaur Chiron, who turned himself into half horse half man in order to escape his jealous wife Rhea, as well as tutor the hero Jason. Some argue that Centaurus, a different constellation, instead represents Chiron. It is also said that Chiron placed both Sagittarius and Centaurus in the sky as constellations to help guide the Argonauts in their quest for the golden fleece.

Correspondences: targets/aim, escape, freedom, guidance, journey, ancestors, mentorship, teaching, learning

Capricorn 🐐

This constellation is often described as Amalthea, the goat that nurtured baby Zeus after his mother Rhea saved him from being eaten by Cronus. Amalthea’s broken horn was represented as the cornocopia, or the horn of plenty. According to other Greek myths, Capricorn is the sea-goat Pricus. Pricus was god of all sea-goats, who were intelligent and loved by the gods. The sea-goats lived close to shore, eventually learning to walk on land and losing their ability to think and speak. Pricus turned back time in attempt to stop this from happening, but the sea-goats left him once more. Pricus did not want to be alone as the last remaining sea-goat, so he asked Cronus to let him die. Since Pricus was immortal, he could not die, but instead was able to live in the sky as a constellation.

Correspondences: time, fate, intelligence, stubbornness, acceptance, solitude, independence

Aquarius 🌀

Represented by Ganymede, who was a young man beautiful enough that Zeus transformed into an eagle and kidnapped him to make him cup-bearer for the gods. The neighboring constellation, Aquila, represents the eagle. In other myths, Aquarius is represented by Deucalion, who worked together with his wife to build a ship which would help them survive a flood. It is also noteable that in Egyptian mythology, Aquarius was associated with the annual flooding of the Nile, and in Babylonian mythology, it was again associated with destruction from flooding.

Correspondences: flooding, overwhelming, beauty, uniqueness, service, survival

Pisces 💫

Pisces, according to Greek myth, represents Aphrodite and her son Eros. The two turned themselves into koi fish in order to escape the wrath of Typhon, father of all monsters, who was attempting to destroy the gods upon Gaia’s wishes. Pan was the first to hear about the oncoming attack, so he warned the other gods before turning himself into a goat-fish and jumping into the Euphrates.

Correspondences: escape, hiding, concealing, warnings, safety

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cicada-bones · 3 years

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The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 5: The Little Folk

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan rode for Mistward, leading the princess down the dusty southern road while the sun sank behind them, towards rocky foothills and the rough-hewn Cambrian mountains beyond.

Mistward was one of several fortresses along the mountain range, all of which guarded the passes between the moral-held Wendlyn and the Fae lands commanded by Queen Maeve. Many of these fortresses, Mistward included, were manned by the demi-Fae who were not worthy enough to enter Maeve’s lands. They were secluded outposts, just bare bones and basic fundamentals.

Rowan had passed through Mistward a few times, some of the sentries posted there would remember his face. They were unlikely to have any problems gaining entry. The real question was whether he would have any trouble with the princess upon arriving at the fortress and meeting his queen.

Rowan doubted that Maeve would have even half the patience he had for the girl and her attitude. He was almost looking forward to it. But they still had half a week of rough travel before that reunion.

It’d been a long time since Rowan had made this trek on the ground, or any journey for that matter, and it was actually a welcome novelty. While thick forests of evergreens stretched on their western flank, around them the earth was open and exposed, sprawling fields of boulder-spotted grasslands flowed from the sea at their backs towards the feet of the hills before them.

The air was bright and green, speaking of fresh grasses, the chirping of crickets, and the fluttering of moths’ wings. Out of the reach of the mess and noise of the capital, the land breathed more comfortably, and Rowan could feel a knot ease in his chest. Despite the company of the girl riding a few yards behind him.

Luckily, she had been just as quiet as he had. Rowan had half-expected a steady stream of complaints to spring from her throughout the rough journey, but she just looked dull and weary, seemingly incapable of speech.

Rowan was at least as exhausted as the princess. He hadn’t slept these past two nights, and although he wanted this trek over and done with as soon as physically possible, they would have to rest tonight.

The path grew steadily rockier as they approached the foothills, dangerous ravines sprouting up on either side of the road. Twilight was just beginning to fall as they mounted the base of the hills and the path pulled them into a dense forest, where the trees became tall and proud, monarchs of Wendlyn and guardians of the path to Doranelle.

The farther they traveled from the human’s realm, the more Fae Rowan could sense in the wild lands around them, hidden within thickets, behind mossy boulders, and in the mists far above their heads. He felt no threat around them, but still he tightened the shields of hard air he was maintaining around the two mares, remaining vigilant.

The air became thick with magic, a familiar metallic taint on Rowan’s tongue. It almost hummed with it, a low and quiet song. Even the girl seemed to notice the change; her head turning more often to survey their surroundings, her eyes curious.

And it almost felt as though the forest looked back – welcoming the foreign princess into its depths.

Rowan frowned slightly as he turned off the path, heading for a small stream he could hear, less than a hundred or so yards out of sight of the road. The princess sighed in relief behind him.

Rowan almost rolled his eyes. Royal brat.

He dismounted, and dumped their gear in a small hollow that would serve as their camp for the night, then guided his horse to the brook for a drink. He didn’t wait for the princess to follow, and was amused by the sounds of her stumbling on the many stones and tree roots between them. Rowan had forgotten how dull mortal senses were – the path through the trees must have been invisible to her.

Despite himself, Rowan couldn’t help wondering why the princess chose to remain in that form. Although there appeared to be much more human in her than Fae, immortal blood still bubbled in her veins. The rumors hadn’t lied – though she was demi-Fae, the princess could shift if she wanted, could inhabit a pure Fae form.

Not even Lorcan, the most powerful demi-Fae male living, could do that. Though he was blessed by the god Hellas and possessed magic and enhanced senses, Lorcan was human. And she wasn’t. Or at least, she didn’t have to be.

Yet still, the girl remained mortal, with all the limitations the form entailed.

Perhaps she wanted to seem weak, helpless. To lull him into a false sense of security in case a fight brewed between them. Rowan still didn’t know what the princess was planning for her meeting with his queen, and it made him cautious.

The horses drank their fill, and Rowan returned to the hollow to brush them down for the night. When the princess reappeared, he silently handed her some food from his saddlebags – bread, cheese, and a green apple. She murmured a quiet, “thank you,” while he began to feed the horses a mixture of grain and hay.

She flopped down before a large oak and shoveled it down. She ate loudly, obnoxiously. Rowan’s jaw tightened.

After a few moments, she said, “Are there so many threats in Wendlyn that we can’t risk a fire?” Rowan nearly sighed. He supposed it had been too much to ask for the silence between them to last the night.

He sat down against a tree opposite her, and shut his eyes, his body longing for sleep. “Not from mortals.”

It was almost a threat. A slow trickle of fear leaked from the princess. She lived in western cities, and was unused to dealing with immortal foes. Rowan mentally scoffed. The princess had seen so little of the world, and yet still acted as though there was nothing she hadn’t seen, nothing she didn’t know.

A moment passed and then something shifted in the air around them. Instead of the monsters Rowan had implied, the welcoming presence he’d sensed upon their arrival drew closer, enveloping their camp. He tensed automatically as it flitted around the edges of his shield, advancing now that they’d settled into the hollow for the night. But he relaxed as the wind carried him their scent.

It was the Little Folk. The Faeries. Their scent was deep and rich, and spoke of the land itself – of the nature of magic and the richness of the earth. It was a scent he recognized, but was entirely unfamiliar with. Though Rowan had always known about the faeries, had often sensed their presence, he had never seen them up close, or gotten a whiff of their scent.

The princess flinched as she finally sensed them as well, noticing the three sets of small, glowing eyes peeking out over the rim of a nearby boulder. But following her initial shock, Rowan felt no hint of fear from the princess, only a quiet recognition.

She knew them, had seen them before – as a child in the west. Before they were slaughtered in droves by Adarlan’s hand.

The faeries had eyes only for her, and though their scent was too wild, too foreign for Rowan to comprehend their emotions, he thought he could detect the barest trace of hope, of wonder, emanating from them.

Before Rowan could blink, he suddenly felt the presence of many more faeries, resting in the fringes of the trees around the hollow. Dozens of Little Folk come to greet the foreign princess, to bear a silent witness to her arrival.

She just sat and stared, her face unreadable. Rowan felt his confusion mount, breaking through the exhaustion and indifference. Something indecipherable passed between them, and then the princess spoke, her words clear and strong.

“They still live.”

It was an assurance, but the words were far from comforting. Rowan began to understand.

With the slaughtering and razing of the last decade, no one in Wendlyn knew how many, if any, of the magical folk in the west had survived. Adarlan had pillaged the continent, burned the ancient forests, and butchered the sacred stags of Terrasen. Stories of the massacre were told in quiet whispers around fires, speaking a warning for young Fae of what was waiting for them in the west.

The faeries had come bearing a desperate, silent question. Had their western brethren lived on? But that was not the only reason they came.

They had sought out this foreign princess, her specifically. And as she had recognized them, they had recognized her. They knew who and what she was – a Fae princess, the descendant of Mab. Her heir. Their heir.

Rowan’s teeth clenched. He wished he could speak with the retreating Little Folk, tell them that their hope was for naught, warn them. The girl was not who they wanted her to be, was no longer a princess of Terrasen. She had turned away from them, and was nothing at all.

The warm feeling of their presence left the little hollow, leaving it cold and empty and unremarkable. Rowan lay his head back against the oak trunk, and fell into a restless slumber, the anniversary of the death of his love finally coming to a close.

···

The next few days passed slower than Rowan had dared hope, and yet faster than he’d feared. Travel over land had long since lost its novelty, and the trip had become a grueling one. Less because of its difficulty, and much more due to his impatience to escape the girl and her infuriating, discomforting presence.

Yet, the princess had maintained her silence, a feat he’d previously assumed impossible. She didn’t complain, didn’t hesitate or drag behind. The girl just awoke silently before dawn each morning, led her horse a few yards behind his all day, gave him the occasional half-nod when he passed her directions, and collapsed into a heap every evening after eating and drinking her fill.

The silence was almost concerning in its consistence – though it relieved him. He’d never spent so much time with another and not exchanged a single word.

In traveling with his fellow lieutenants, Rowan had come to learn and expect certain habits from them, and while they were often quiet, the silence came from a friendly, companionable place.

Fenrys and Connall never shut up of course, especially when in each other’s company, and while Lorcan and Vaughan were aloof, they didn’t curb their thoughts – particularly in the evenings. Gavriel was also reserved, but more often than not his silences could be traced back to Rowan’s own desire for quiet. The male was perceptive, and tended to conform his actions to the moods and desires of those around him.

Rowan had only spent brief periods with mortals, and the behavior of those had been fairly consistent – large doses of fear and respect coupled with an irritating tenacity for ferreting out his knowledge of Maeve’s dealings and strategies, under the guise of polite conversation.

But the princess was just blank – a void. If he hadn’t been so confident in his ability to overpower her, it would have worried him. Any number of plots could be hiding behind that emptiness.

Even so, Rowan had absolutely no desire to engage the girl in any conversation whatsoever. If she wanted to keep quiet, that was fine with him.

Even when not with the maddening princess, conversation was beyond exhausting. Rowan only ever spoke when necessary, which, as it turned out, was not often. It was one of the few reasons he was grateful for the power that pumped through his veins, and the strength in his limbs. His presence unnerved others, drove them away.

In younger years, Rowan had almost resented it. Had often gone out of his way to suppress his power and subdue his presence, attempting to pacify those around him. It had been a perpetual source of pressure, and tension. Forcing a constant balancing act of social negotiation.

But now…now he had been stripped of that veneer of social acceptability. Now, people stayed out of his way, and he stayed out of theirs. Most of the time.

Luckily, they only passed a few groups on the road, mostly humans leading wagons full of various goods to trade in the markets of the coastal towns. All of which took one look at Rowan and gave them the right of way, some murmuring prayers to various gods for mercy. They looked at the princess with concern, worried about the fate of any human woman traveling with such a male.

It used to bother him, but now he barely noticed.

Though Rowan was ever watchful, ever vigilant, always aware of his surroundings and those around him, he was never really present. His body was separate from his mind, the vast majority of his attention pulled elsewhere, lost and adrift and searching.

For Lyria. For his mate.

For that which he had lost, in shame and in dishonor.

The strange, mismatched pair rode still farther, reaching the base of the mountains and turning eastward. The forest steadily became lusher and denser, losing the scrawny, gnarled quality of the sparse trees closer to the baking capital.

Mists began to envelop them, forcing the pair to pierce through great veils of fog as they continued to ascend the blue-tipped peaks. The cold damp settled into his skin and brushed against his very bones. While it wasn’t a welcome sensation, it was familiar and tolerable. The princess didn’t seem to be so accepting however, and her constant, violent shivering grated on Rowan. Though still – she never spoke a word of complaint.

And, despite being a city-dweller, she was a competent horseman, navigating the tricky path with ease. Never needing Rowan’s assistance, or for him to slow, even as they turned from the path on the fourth day of travel and cut alongside the mountain range towards the fortress.

This close to Mistward there was no path, and Rowan instead followed the markers set every few hundred feet – granite stones carved with symbols in the Old Language. Whorls and patterns which led them over blankets of moss-covered earth, occasional plateaus of wildflower-strewn fields, and up rocky hillsides.

As they drew ever nearer, Rowan could feel the blood oath pulling at his chest, drawing him towards the fortress. Where Maeve was waiting for them.

He smelled the smoke before the lights of the castle came into view. Mistward was an ancient place, and appeared to rise out of the mountain range itself. It was guarded by a ring of towering ward-stones, woven through the trees surrounding the outpost. They were even older, and had been placed here in a time beyond the reach of memory. Even for the Fae.

There was only one entrance, a narrow path between two massive black stones that curved towards each other like the horns of some great beast. As they passed below them, a familiar electric current snapped over Rowan’s skin, marking the barrier of the veil of magical protection that encircled the fortress.

The sentries were now alerted to their arrival, but didn’t react with any surprise. They had known they were coming.

Mistward was hardly more than a military post, no matter its age. It consisted of a few adequate watchtowers, connected by a large central building, and a passable retaining wall with an unexceptional wooden gate. While it was far from neglected, the building showed its age; moss and lichen obscuring the granite walls and wear showing on the wooden entry doors.

There were six sentries patrolling the outer wall, three on each of the watchtowers and three more at the gates – a full guard. Evidently the commander of Mistward wanted to ensure the fortress appeared at its best for its current occupants.

The princess spoke up from behind – her first words in days. “I think I’d rather stay in the woods.”

Rowan didn’t deign to respond. The pull in his blood had become uncomfortable, a fierce, inescapable tug, through the gates and into the depths of the castle.

They passed by the guards, who saluted him, and into the large courtyard beyond, where two stable hands relieved them of their horses and saddlebags. The two males were pale and harried, no doubt a reflection of the tension emanating from the whole fortress. The source of which pulled at him still more intently, a fish on a line, into the main building, up a narrow set of stone stairs, and into an upper hallway.

The princess followed him closely, her silence now heavy and filled with anxiety, which exploded into terror as they entered a small office. Where his queen gazed up at them from behind a desk.

Her eyes glittered, her lips curling into a malicious smile.

“Hello Aelin Galathynius.”

···

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dailylogyn · 3 years

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Logyn Meta: Loki & Sigyn’s Family in Myth and Marvel (Comparison)

Photo Source: https://www.deviantart.com/youkai-no-shimo/art/Colouring-LOKI-s-FAMILY-260392721

The family that is ready to begin Ragnarok in order to defend your honor. It’s a tragic tale, but family is something worth fighting for!

Follow me as we explore this crazy, wonderful family that is probably the most famous of the Myth’s.

We may not know much about Sigyn’s side, but Loki’s side is one that legends are made of.

From the Norse Myths, to Marvel Comics and the MCU, we will see the similarities and differences for each member in the different universes as well as learn facts about each one and why they are important.

Laufey (or Nál) - Loki’s Mother

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

She is Loki’s Mother in Mythology.

Mostly mentioned by the matronymic, “Loki Laufeyjarson” meaning: Loki Laufey’s Son.

Her name (Laufey) is typically thought to mean leaves/foilage. Nal means Needle.

Not much is known about her. We don’t even know if she was a Goddess, human or giant so it is assumed Loki gets his godhood from her.

In the poem Sörla þáttr, Nál and Laufey are portrayed as the same person: "She was both slender and weak, and for that reason she was called Nál [Needle]."

Laufey is listed among Ásynjar (goddesses) in one of the þulur, an ancestry that perhaps led her son Loki to be "enumerated among the Æsir", as Snorri Sturluson puts it in Gylfaginning.

Related to nature like forests and leaves.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Laufey is Loki’s Father in this universe.

As Loki was born small, a motive of embarrassment for his parents, his existence was kept a secret.

A younger Loki sends Laufey into a fateful battle between Odin, leading the All-Father to claim Loki as a son. Laufey was left for dead, wounded, but alive, leaving a future Loki to kill him.

A group of Frost Giants try to revive Laufey by retrieving his skull. It ends with Malekith performing a spell to resurrect King Laufey.

Laufey hates Loki and thinks of him as a disgrace

It ends with Loki killing his father again after he tries to steal the Casket of Winters and kill Frigga.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Same as Marvel Comics Counterpart. Appears in the first Thor movie.

Fárbauti - Loki’s Father

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

He is Loki’s Father in Mythology.

Attested in the Prose Edda and in Kennings of Viking Age Skalds.

A Jotunn

The Old Norse name Fárbauti has been translated as 'dangerous striker','anger striker',or 'sudden-striker'.

Related to lightning

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Mother of Loki in this universe.

Gave birth to an unusually small child to the annoyance of her husband.

It is said the night Loki was born that she stabbed her own heart with an ice dagger, but Loki suspects Laufey is the one who killed her.

Appears as a figment taken on by a parasite. She’s mostly deceased in the comics.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

Loki Laufeyjarson - Son of Laufey & Farbauti. Lover of Sigyn & Angrboda (and many others honestly)

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Everyone already knows the tales about Loki, so I won’t repeat it all again. It’s pretty lengthy. I’ll just point down the basics for him with it.

He’s famous for causing trouble among the gods as the Trickster and God of Mischief. Not a bad guy, but misinterpreted that way, although he can be a dick too. Despite how much he causes trouble for them, he also helps them out of situations too. He just wants to have fun, even if he takes it overboard at times.

Some sources put as Jotun and some say he is Half-Jotun, Half-Aesir (on his mother’s side.)

A well-known Shapeshifter who can be anything: Salmon, Male, Female, Horse. The list just goes on.

A really handsome being who loved to get it on. *finger guns*

Blood Brother’s with Odin. How? We don’t know. It’s interpreted as a friendship or foster-brothers. It’s unclear really.

Gonna start Ragnarok for valid reasons honestly after having his entire family taken away from him or killed by the Gods. #TeamLoki

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Far too many appearances to document here from 1942 to present. There has been some retcons as well with the fact the current Loki has been reborn in a new incarnation also known as Ikol.

In the comics Loki is the adopted son of Odin and Frigga and Adoptive brother to Thor & Balder.

He’s depicted as being the God of Evil in the classic comics serval times. In fact, it’s one of his titles.

Depending on the writer for the classic comics, Loki can have moments of humanity, but all around he causes trouble.

Just wants to rule Asgard and get rid of Thor who is his enemy.

He’s honestly a bad guy most of the time in the classic comics #VillianTrope

I personally have yet to read any current comics of Loki that aren’t the classics so this is where my knowledge and research stops.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

First off, Tom Hiddleston as Loki is just *chefs kiss* perfection.

Pretty much the same as comics except for the fact he isn’t really a villain. He plays tricks on people for fun and laughs and truly cares about his family.

However, things change when he discovers the truth that he is a Jotun and has been lied to about it his whole life despite being told countless stories of how Jotun’s are monsters to be slain (You fucked up a perfectly good kid, Odin. Look, he has anxiety and trauma.)

He develops major identity problems on top of others things, but despite it, Loki tries to still do best by his family as he wants to belong. Yes, he becomes a villain in The Avengers movie, but not for the hell of it. #Thanos

Honestly, he just deserves better. That’s where this leads. Thank you.

Angrboda - Loki’s Consort/Lover (Fenrir, Jormungandr & Hel’s Mother)

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

She is only mentioned once in the Poetic Edda as the mother of Fenrir by Loki. The Prose Edda describes her as "a giantess in Jotunheim" and as the mother of three monsters: the wolf Fenrir, the Midgard serpent Jörmungand, and the ruler of the dead Hel.

A Jotun known as Mother of Monsters and Giantess of Ironwood.

In Old Norse, Angrboda means: 'the one who brings grief', 'she-who-offers-sorrow', or 'harm-bidder'.

According to scholars, the name Angrboða is probably a late invention dating from no earlier than the 12th century, although the tradition of the three monsters born of Loki and a jötunn may be of a higher age.

Some scholars say she was a very powerful witch and that she had the ability to see into the future. She was confined to Hel and would not be released from the realm of the dead until Loki was unbound.

In some versions of the Myth’s she knows her children will bring about the end of the world (Ragnarok) as well as being a witch set on fire three times before Loki eats her heart.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

A giantess of Jotunheim and a Witch.

Born to Elderspawn Vârcolac and Echidna.

She mated with Loki and gave birth to Fenrir and Jormungadr. Legends say she also gave birth to Hela, but it seems to be nothing more but legends.

Angrboda died of unknown causes and was sent to the Underworld of Hel.

When Thor needed to know how to get to Hela's realm because she had been taking mortals to Niffleheim, he went to the Hlidskjalf and summoned Angerboda from the underworld, forcing her to tell him how to get there. Once she revealed to Thor the path he had to follow, she tried to take him with her to the underworld.

Only has one appearance in the comics -- Thor #360 (1985)

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

Sleipnir - Loki’s Son

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Attested in the Poetic and Prose Edda. In both Sleipnir is Odin's eight-legged steed and child of Loki by Svaðilfari. He is described as the best of all horses.

The Prose Edda contains extra information saying he is grey.

Old Norse meaning: Slippy or the Slipper.

Sleipnir is also mentioned in a riddle found in the 13th century legendary saga Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks, in the 13th-century legendary saga Völsunga saga as the ancestor of the horse Grani, and book I of Gesta Danorum, written in the 12th century by Saxo Grammaticus, contains an episode considered by many scholars to involve Sleipnir. Sleipnir is generally accepted as depicted on two 8th century Gotlandic image stones: the Tjängvide image stone and the Ardre VIII image stone.

Scholarly theories have been proposed regarding Sleipnir's potential connection to shamanic practices among the Norse pagans.

Sleipnir was born when Loki shape-shifted into a mare and became pregnant by the stallion of a giant, as is recounted in the tale of The Fortification of Asgard.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

There are two different origins for Sleipnir in the comics: 1. Thor fighting off an army of the undead on Midgard. He promised to help as long as his horses weren’t eaten, however, Thor was betrayed and took his horses remains back to Asgard, coupling it with Asgardian Magic to create Sleipneir. 2. Loki had hastily agreed to let a Frost Giant re-build the wall around Asgard, in exchange for the Moon, the Sun, and Freya, only he had to do it in six months. The Frost Giant had only asked to use his grey stallion, Svadilfari. Right as the last brick was about to be placed, Loki transformed into a beautiful white mare, and lured Svadilfari off. Loki later gave birth to Sleipnir. (Just like in the Myths.)

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Odin’s eight-legged steed.

Sleipnir’s origins are unknown. He appears in the first Thor Movie.

Fenrir Wolf - Loki & Angrboda’s Son

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Attested in the Prose and Poetic Edda as the first son of the Jotun couple. He is a wolf destined to kill Odin. So, they bind and seal him when he's still young, with Tyr losing his arm in the process. When Ragnarok comes, he indeed kills Odin, but is killed by Odin's son Vidar in return.

Fenrir is the father of the wolves Sköll and Hati Hróðvitnisson.

In the Prose Edda, additional information is given about Fenrir, including that, due to the gods' knowledge of prophecies foretelling great trouble from Fenrir and his rapid growth, the gods bound him, and as a result Fenrir bit off the right hand of the god Týr.

No chain can hold him, except for Gleipnir, a rope made by Dwarves containing the roots of a mountain, the breath of a fish, the sound of a cat's footfall, the sinews of a bear, the beard of a woman and the spittle of a bird, all of which were impossible items to obtain.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Pretty much the same as his Mythos with some additional storylines.

When Raganrok happened, Fenrir was reborn with the other gods on the New Asgard universe on Midgard. No details of his fate on Earth have been revealed.

Fenrir helped the mutant Wolfsbane as she was carrying the child of one of his descendants.

It is one of the few individuals believed to be more powerful, or equally as powerful, as Dormammu; the others being galactic entities like The Beyonder.

Fenrir is Genderfluid in the comics.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Fenris is a giant Asgardian Wolf who serves under Hela and is portrayed as Female. She resurrects her as they take over Asgard.

Instead of being her brother, Fenris is her loyal companion and mount.

Fenris ends up getting into a fight against Hulk as he pushes her off, sending her falling into the void below to her supposed death.

Appears in Thor: Ragnarok.

Hel - Loki & Angrboda’s Daughter

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Attested in the Prose and Poetic Edda. She is a giantess/goddess who resides over the Underworld that is also called Hel, a place where many of the dead reside. She is the daughter of Loki and Angrboda, sister to Fenrir and Jormungandr and usually depicted as the youngest of the three.

Goddess of Death and Graves and ruler of Hel who welcomes the souls of those who died of old age, disease or by accident.

Hel is described as having been appointed by the god Odin as ruler of a realm of the same name, located in Niflheim.

The Prose Edda details that Hel rules over vast mansions with many servants in her underworld realm and plays a key role in the attempted resurrection of the god Baldr.

Old Norse Name Meaning: Hidden

She’s mostly mentioned only in passing. Snorri describes her appearance as being half-black, half-white, and with a perpetually grim and fierce expression on her face.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Renamed Hela in the comics.

Allegedly the daughter of Loki and Angrboda, but it’s never made clear or stated. Hela's genealogy is the subject of controversies and retellings.

Her path pretty much follows her Mythos where she is destined to do terrible things and Odin makes her the ruler over the dead in the realms of Hel and Niflheim until maturity.

At some point, she was considered the daughter of Odin and of a long-lost goddess.

Honestly, she usually tries to expand her powers, wanting to rule over Vahalla and obtain Asgardian souls.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU):

Appears in Thor: Ragnarok as Odin’s firstborn and only daughter. Sister to Thor and Loki.

Kinda pissed her dad locked her away and wants to rule Asgard and take revenge.

The cause of Ragnarok and supposedly dies on Asgard after everything is said in done in the movie.

Jormungandr - Loki & Angrboda’s Son

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Usually depicted as the middle child of Loki and Angrboda, he is known as the Midgard Serpent or World Serpent who is a giant snake. When Odin takes Loki’s kids away from him, he tosses Jormungadr into the ocean that encircles Midgard. The serpent grew so large that is was able to surround the Earth and grasp it’s own tail. When it releases it’s tail, Ragnarok will begin and he will fight his arch-enemy, Thor.

The major sources for myths about Jörmungandr are the Prose Edda, the skaldic poem Húsdrápa, and the Eddic poems Hymiskviða and Völuspá. Other sources include the early skaldic poem Ragnarsdrápa and kennings in other skaldic poems; for example, in Þórsdrápa, faðir lögseims, "father of the sea-thread", is used as a kenning for Loki. There are also several image stones depicting the story of Thor fishing for Jörmungandr.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Both Loki and Angerboda were descended from the Frost Giants of Jotunheim and were of humanoid appearance; however, the sons Angerboda bore Loki, Jormungand and the Fenris Wolf, did not. It has been suggested that Jormungand and the Fenris Wolf were born as sentient animals because their parents each had the magical ability to change his or her own shape. Hence, Jormungand and the Fenris Wolf each bear the form of the animal that their parents had assumed at the moment they were conceived.

Jormungandr follows the same as his Mythos to a certain degree with his fate to fight Thor during Ragnarok as the God of Thunder would die from his venom.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

Sigyn - Loki’s Wife

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Sadly, not many stories that have Sigyn in them have survived to this day. She is only attested in the followings works: Poetic Edda & Prose Edda.

The most famous of her story tells of how Loki has been bound by the gods with the guts of his son, Nari, and how his son, Vari, has been turned into a wolf. The Goddess Skadi fastens a venomous snake over Loki’s face, from which venom drips. Sigyn, stated as Loki’s wife, stays by his side and holds a basin under and catches the venom so it won’t drip onto her husband, but when the basin grows full, she pulls it away to empty it, during which time venom drops onto Loki, causing him to wither so violently that earthquakes occur that shake the entire earth.

In the poem, Gylfaginning, Sigyn is introduced in Chapter 31 as being married to Loki and that they have a son by the name of “Narfi or Nari”. She is then mentioned again in Chapter 50 where events are described differently than in Lokasenna; Vali, described as a son of Loki only, is changed into a wolf by the gods and rips apart his brother, “Narfi or Nari.” The guts of Nari are then used to tie Loki to three stones, after which the guts turn to iron, and Skadi places a snake above Loki. Sigyn of course catches the venom in a bowl. This process is repeated until he breaks free, setting Ragnarok into motion.

In the poem, Skáldskaparmál, Sigyn is introduced as a goddess, an Æsir, where the gods are holding a feast for their visitors and in kennings for Loki: “husband of Sigyn” and “cargo [Loki] of incantation-fetter’s [Sigyn’s] arms.”

Old Norse Name meaning: Victory Girlfriend.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Lonely and looking for female companionship, Loki ends up coming across Sigyn and plans to make her his. However, she is already engaged to a warrior of Odin’s Crimson Hawks -- Theoric. Hence, Loki sets up a trap to have Theoric killed during a mission so Loki can disguise himself as Theoric. Once they are wed, Loki reveals himself and despite Odin attempting to annul the marriage (which goes against Asgardian Law)), Sigyn tells the Allfather that she will follow the duties of a loyal wife since she is Loki’s now.

This is when Odin proclaims her to be the Goddess of Fidelity. This was a thing first started by the Marvel Comics.

Sigyn doesn’t have much of an agency in the comics except being a loyal wife to Loki, sometimes going along with his plans or getting on him for it.

I personally haven’t been able to find any evidence of Sigyn’s parents being Iwaldi and Freya in the comics, so I’m not sure if this fact is Fanon or not.

Sigyn has suddenly seemed to vanish from the comics with her last official appearance being in 1996. It has been allueded at that she died or was killed during Ragnarok.

Her relationship with Loki in the comics is...complicated and changes a lot depending on the writer.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

Narvi/Narfi & Vali - Loki & Sigyn’s Sons

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Not much is known about Narfi and Vali except for being Loki & Sigyn’s sons with Vali being transformed into a wolf by the gods and killing his brother whose inners are used as a chain to bind Loki in the cave.

Narfi and Vali are referred to in a number of sources. According to the Gylfaginning section of Snorri Sturluson's Prose Edda, he was also called Nari and was killed by his brother Váli, who was transformed into a wolf; in a prose passage at the end of the Eddic poem "Lokasenna", Váli became a wolf and his brother Nari was killed.

Snorri also names "Nari or Narfi" as the son of Loki and his wife Sigyn earlier in Gylfaginning, and lists "father of Nari" as a heiti for Loki in the Skáldskaparmál section of his work.

Narfi’s name could mean “Corpse” in Old Norse, relating to how he was killed by his brother.

There's no mention of what became of Vali after he became a wolf.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Narvi never makes an appearance in the comics and is only mentioned in: Free Comics Book Day Vol 2018 Avengers.

There is a Vali in the comics called Vali Halfling. He is the son of loki and a unnamed mortal woman. So, I don’t consider this to be the same Vali that is the son of Loki and Sigyn.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

_________________________________________________

Thanks for reading everyone. This required a bunch of research, but I hope this helps and has been educational. We only have what we can work with considering the surviving myths, but there is so many stories out there that we don’t know of that aren’t clear because of it.

I tried my best to cover everything I knew about them in Marvel too, but sometimes so many retcons is too much to keep up with. I know there may be some errors in places, but it’s the best I could get this with what we have to work with.

SOURCES:

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Laufey_(Earth-616)

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Laufey

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laufey

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fárbauti

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Farbauti_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Angerboda_(Earth-616)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angrboða

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Hela_(Earth-616)

https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/giants/hel/

https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/giants/jormungand/

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Jormungand_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Sleipnir_(Earth-616)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleipnir

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Sleipnir

https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/giants/fenrir/

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Fenris_Wolf_(Earth-616)

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Fenris

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigyn

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Sigyn_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Narvi_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Vali_Halfling_(Earth-616)

https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/the-aesir-gods-and-goddesses/loki/

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Loki_Laufeyson_(Earth-616)

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Loki

https://skjalden.com/narfi-and-vali/

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Hela

#logyn meta #logyn #sigyn #loki #Angrboda #laufey #farbauti #Sleipnir #hel #Jormungandr #Fenrir #narvi #vali #lokakindar #norse mythology #marvel #marvel comics #mcu

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dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

ocean in neptune

title: ocean in neptune pairing: zhang yixing/reader genre: astronaut!au/strangers to lovers!au/sci-fi!au summary: the‌ ‌world‌ ‌is‌ ‌so‌ ‌spacious,‌ ‌billions‌ ‌of‌ ‌people‌ ‌just‌ ‌coexisting‌ ‌without‌ ‌knowing,‌ ‌something‌ ‌that‌ ‌could‌ ‌be‌ ‌bothersome‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌about‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌mind‌ ‌of‌ ‌just‌ ‌a‌ ‌miniscule‌ ‌part‌ ‌of‌ ‌those‌ ‌individuals.‌ ‌however,‌ ‌just‌ ‌because‌ ‌we‌ ‌are‌ ‌smaller‌ ‌than‌ ‌the‌ ‌world‌ ‌in‌ ‌comparison‌ ‌doesn’t‌ ‌mean‌ ‌we‌ ‌can’t‌ ‌make‌ ‌the‌ ‌best‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌universe‌ ‌in‌ ‌us.‌ ‌this‌ ‌is‌ ‌what‌ ‌she‌ ‌learns‌ ‌from‌ ‌zhang‌ ‌yixing,‌ ‌aspiring‌ ‌astronaut‌ ‌and‌ ‌intergalactic‌ ‌personality,‌ ‌someone‌ ‌whom‌ ‌she‌ ‌wouldn’t‌ ‌be‌ ‌able‌ ‌to‌ ‌forget‌ ‌even‌ ‌if‌ ‌she‌ ‌tried. type: fluff/romance word count: 13,647

“Sometimes, I wish I could fly to another planet.” She utters, mind vacant while her voice is filled with emotion. “How would life be in Neptune? That sounds like a better place for me.”

Somewhere beyond her daily life, there were stars glistening brighter than the flicks of light in her eyes, calling out for happiness, holding all the memories of her past, her present, her future. It’s the hope she has that there may be a difference in the future. Enjoyment, happiness, so strong so amount of stress could ever move her, dizzy her, bring her to a state in which she ponders about the reality or the surrealism of life. Maybe, it is true that we are a simulation...that we are trapped in this little play-god game in which our problems are a simple particle that can be blown into the thin air. Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like she is one in seven billion people, even more.

Her hand rests on the back of her neck, watching the speckles of dust that fly in the air thanks to the open curtains and the heat of the radiant star. Her roommate, a freshman in the nursing career, is looking for something in her room, exuding the typical image of someone who is not a senior, just like she is. Lea seems to be getting more hours of sleep, she has enough time on her hands to dye her hair, keep it tidy, she doesn’t wear scrubs everywhere she goes and still, she manages to move not sluggishly, as if her alarm clock is an energizer rather just an excuse to use in the morning.

She says this out loud, because someone like Lea wouldn’t understand what it feels like the not see the future clearly. In a few months from now, she’ll be a nurse. And...the story ends. just like that, no twists, no turns, no excitement, no beats to listen to as a soundtrack of her life, just boredom. It is responsible, something that she prides herself on, but at the same time, she wishes she could lay on this bed for a bit longer, sleep this headache through...even when it seems to be there most of the time. She wants to see something different, something outstanding, duller colors and voids that are not vacant of anything, filled with universes for her to meet.

The Earth is such a boring place.

Lea throws her sweater over her body. So, that is why her roommate is there, just looking for those pieces of clothing that are far cozier than what she wears on a normal day. It looks good on her, but the scrunch of her nose is definitely not a look when the younger woman takes her hand in between her cold fingertips, making her gaze divert from the miniscule beings around her simply to stare into her hazel eyes.

“What are you even talking about? Don’t say things like that, it’s weird.” Lea opts to say, inspecting her face for any sign of disconnection from her reality. After all, she is a daydreamer at heart, the type of person who believes more than thinking, dreams more than existing. “Oddly, you sound like that one girl in elementary that would be in love with horses. You’re in love with the universe.”

But that is a pretty, delicate title. She doesn’t mind dreaming of a vast universe, thinking outside the walls, waiting for that moment in which she stops hanging out on the floor and starts floating in the air, roaming with a purpose, the discovery of something that is far more interesting than her dull life. “I’m just saying.” She argues, feeling her roommate pull at her body until she is out of her bed. The coldness of her rug is unwelcomed, much more when Lea takes her time to place some obnoxiously cute, yet childish, pins on her hair, trying to adorn something within her. The frown doesn’t disappear with beauty, sadly. “I’ve always been connected to Neptune.”

Lea sighs, reaching for a hoodie inside her closet and taking another sweater out, placing it over her arms and covering her usual comfortable, dark clothing. “Okay, since you’re going to continue talking nonsense...what makes you believe you’re connected to Neptune?”

She squints her eyes at that, fixing the edges of her sleeves to pull them up higher and trying to take off the pins on her hair with a hand reaching up, but Lea swats it away before she could. “I don’t know.” It all started in an insomniac night, in which she had wondered where everything came from. Thoughts, dreams. How there is an inner voice inside our heads. It’s strange it can never speak up. Her curiousness has always been palpable, always ever-present. Some people ignore that need when they get older and she did for a while, until it visited her again...and she hasn’t fought against it ever since. “It’s empty. Cold.” Lea’s eyes soften at that, tilting her head to the side and making her short hair move with the action.

“You’re neither of those things.”

“Not me, but my life. It’s...I want spice, I want something.” She argues, moving her neck forward before pulling the hood of her sweater over her head. “Also, I used to call my first friend ‘Blue’...and guess what? Neptune is blue.”

Lea is obviously not convinced, and she may think she is some crazy woman trying to compare herself to a planet. An alien, but that is not exactly the case. Simple, she wants to know there is hope. She’s undiscovered, in one way or another, she hasn’t caught on what is her biggest potential, hasn’t exploded it, much less has she landed on her perfect moment in time. She’ll get there, eventually, but for now...she feels as if she is Neptune, too far away from the Sun to ever feel it, often trapped studying and working. For now, she is this...forgotten, ancient thing. What no one wants to explore. “Listen, I know this school year has been difficult for you...but in no time, you’ll be working and none of this will matter.”

“Not everything in my life should be about working, Lea.” She tries to guide her through her train of thought.

“Well, we could always go out partying and figure out if meeting new people helps you.”

New planets, all different, people really forget that we hold an entire universe inside of us. Lea doesn’t notice her mocking expression when she wraps her arm around her shoulder, bringing her out of the comfort of her own room. “I don’t want to meet anyone new.” She says. “...Is it so wrong I just want to find some purpose that is not working?”

Lea opens the door for her, the swoosh of air making her want to hide for a bit more, simply leave herself inside her room and draw, get lost in something that is not the stress of dealing with others. In big masses of people, just not what she is looking for. “No, baby, it’s never wrong.” She answers, trying to use the sweetest tone she can muster. She steals a glance at Lea, whose eyes really seem sweet...but maybe, she is just trying to get her to shut up. “But you promised me that you were going to help me out with learning the muscles of the deltoid area, as well as the function of the abdominal muscles...and I need you there to coach me as the professor gives some extra info.”

Right, because humans are a universe in their own...and that is exactly why she has become a nurse. To serve, to help, to be there but also not have to deal with the guts and sewing that is often involved in the medical career. Now she realizes it takes a little bit more work than she could have ever thought of. “...I never said I wasn’t going, I was just thinking out loud.”

“And you can do just that!” Lea says, a chuckle in between her words. “When we’re talking about muscles, though. Not when talking about Neptune.”

In the drag of her feet when she enters the unbeknownst area for younger nursing students, she realizes just how tired she is. Her fingers are rubbing at her eye, the soft glide of her fingertips against the skin almost soothing, hearing the sound of loud voices mixed with people joining in groups, typical when studying in masses. The white walls and polished desks remain intact, the whiteboard the main point with drawings of the human body with some muscles well placed, others just badly drawn. That is obviously the work of a student, most likely, but she is not there to judge, simply because she had once been there.

Once, years ago, she had taken a seat in those same desks. She had looked ahead with a question mark over her head, barely understanding what was going on. If anything, she worked her hardest to be able to understand more profoundly. At the time, she thought that would be it: studying, working, and then she’d feel complete. There was no other plan, no house to wish upon, no car to want, simply the recognition of her hand work. One day, that became tedious, insufferable, it made her feel shallow—everyone wanted something, and yet, she didn’t know exactly what it was that would add some kind of...interest to her life. More than a nine to five, more than a night shift, more than simply thinking in the same box of medicines, body parts, tendons, muscles, arteries, veins.

Beauty is in saving lives...but what is a life that has not been lived?

This time around, however, along with her favorite professor in her entire career—Mrs. Li, as she formally calls her—there are a duo of men. Around the same height, not outstandingly tall, turning their backs towards the entrance, which is exactly where she is standing. She sees pristine clothing, matched from head to toe in black, mostly simplistic clothing like a tee and some jeans. One of them sports tattoos, the most talkative of the two, the other doesn’t, but she doesn’t really pay attention much to them, concentrating on taking a seat far away from the students, but still close enough for Lea to as her questions.

She isn’t supposed to be there. She could be sleeping, but her input was highly requested by Lea and immensely accepted by Mrs. Li, who had endless appreciation for her. At this very moment, she could have been laying on her bed, still cladded in her favorite pajamas, too soft to ever be forgotten, legs sprawled in the comfort of the mattress. Nonetheless, she doesn’t get a break when she enters the classroom, barely placing her thighs down on the seat when she hears her name being called.

Once her gaze is lifted, towards the main desk to be exact, she sees Mrs. Li looking at her with a smile that is downright motherly and those men in black finally receive a face to their anonymous stances. One of them captures her attention as easily as it is to breathe in oxygen; something about his dark eyes in their sleepy habitat, like he could use a good night of sleep but beauty still exists within him, in its purest form, even through this fact. Maybe, what is enchanting are his lips,somewhat his bottom one turns into a pout when he doesn’t realize, not because of the plumpness but thanks to his facial expressions. When he tightens his cheeks ever so slightly, his skin dips in what seems to be a dimple, though it could be her imagination. His physique is excellent, too, lean with softly defined muscles. Not exactly a gym-rat, but he must have some kind of training.

In the way his belly dips and his body leans forward, there is masculinity. The kind that would have anyone swooning and she visibly feels her face heating up, but she lowers her face and walks forward to listen to whatever Mrs. Li has to say.

This one, she thinks, this one guy has to be the anatomic model. Someone whose body is often covered in the ink of a marker, serving as a three-dimensional version of what is in the books, enough for a student to be able to point out where the muscles are placed and where arteries pass, important for their career. If not, if she is even wrong—which obviously, she isn’t—, this would be a missed opportunity. The muscle definition is textbook written, almost as if he was crafted for the job, but this is all erased from her brain when Mrs. Li opens a folder over her desk and starts to talk to her.

Her gray hair was held in a bun, someone who is old enough to be jubilated, but she continues to work with fervor. Her sweetened expression is filled with botox, however, a contrast to her natural hair, though so softly done that it almost looks better than expected. “I’m so glad you came here today. I needed to ask something from you before we started the lesson.”

She tries not to look to the side, not to push her body forward and stand straighter to catch the attention of the man to her right, whose smell is now all she can feel, so musky, radiating from within, and she swears she can feel his gaze land on her for the briefest second. Though, it’s better not to ponder on this, nodding her head to what Mrs. Li just said. “Oh...yes, I’m sorry I’m a tad late. We had to walk here...and yeah...” It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that she didn’t want to be there to start with.

At least, Lea had done something good. Had she not pleaded for her to help her out with this class, she wouldn’t have seen someone like...the prince by her side.

No one will be able to convince her he is, at the very least, of royal blood. This mightiness must belong to someone of class.

“No, no, no worries. I wanted to introduce you to someone whom you’ll share a lot of time with.” Mrs. Li complies, nodding her head towards the prince-looking man. Maybe, this is the universe finally adding some beauty to her day. “And you can say no, of course, but I know you’ll be super interested in this topic.”

The other man, the companion of the one that has made her breathe in deeply in order to keep herself calm, takes a seat on the anatomic model chair and that is enough of a reason for her to know that there is a bit of irony left in this world. “What would it be?”

“Yixing is a computer engineer. He is an astronaut of sorts and you know how much children love space, alien, astronauts...anything of the like.”

A name is given to her: Yixing. When she turns to look at him, she realizes that Yixing is looking ahead, listening intently to what Mrs. Li is saying, such seriousness imprinted on his face, but not the kind that is scary. He seems quite delicate, understanding almost. She clears her throat, returning her attention to Mrs. Li. “...And what do I have to help him with, Mrs. Li?”

“Well, almost no elementary student cares about nurses. They either want to be doctors or astronauts, but they never care about our career.” Mrs. Li points out, lowering her rounded glasses from the bridge of her nose. “So, since Yixing is the representative of the astronomy field in our city, he is used to giving presentations to college students and high school ones, not exactly children. I trust you to be able to help him and incorporate some interest in the students for the nursing career.” The excitement in her voice clearly shows that she is in love with exactly what she had picked in her life. She wonders what that must feel like… “I’ll be asking the kids questions after the event and I’ll make sure to reward you with some points in your thesis.”

Oh.

That sounds...clearly like a good idea.

Showing little kids the examples of hygiene and the nursing program must be easy enough. She hasn’t done it in the past, but it must be simpler than talking to university students like herself. “Ah, yes, I’ll work along with Yixing.”

“Perfect.” Mrs. Li speaks in a whisper, writing something down in her folder before smiling. “The presentation is in two weeks.”

“Alright. We’ll get it done.”

Though, the man doesn’t speak much, falling into the line of shyness. Mrs. Li softens her gaze, looking in between her student and a graduate of another field, clearly an astronaut in the making. She wonders what kind of plans he works with...or if his silence comes from endless hours at the job. “Yixing, don’t be shy. She seems like she bites, but she really doesn’t.” The comment makes her widen her eyes slightly, feeling Mrs. Li’s hands resting on her shoulders, dragging them to look at each other, just in time for her to speak again. “Introduce yourselves. The university has been trying to unite the science fields because we are supposed to work together. I want my two favorites of this educational plan to get along well.”

For the first moment since she got there, she gets to see his smile and she almost wants to say a small ‘aha!’ out loud. Right, she was, a dimple appears when he speaks with the slightest pout on his bottom lip, re-introducing himself with his first name and surname. “I hope we can work well together.”

She says her name, rolling it out softly, delicately, as if the space in between them is too close. In a world so big, they are there. In a word so big, she has found beauty within a set of eyes. How funny attraction is, hormones working to her odds, connecting in a singular form to bring heat to her ears, a small grin to her features, a simplistic flutter of her eyelids that is not meant to be flirty...but maybe, it is. “We will!” She tries to reassure, watching as he pats around his chest to get something, soon after reaching for his actual pockets and taking his wallet out. It’s not money that he takes out, obviously, but rather a small, thick card that shows a universe.

The concept of adorable, actually.

It reads his name, along with a number, a personal one along with the one from work. “You can always call me there. Text me to my personal number and we can work on our project together.”

“I will.” She answers, waving the card in the air and then, nodding her head. Don’t look at his arms, she tells herself, feeling her pupils and irises trailing down until she catches herself.

No.

This is a respectful man. Someone of importance.

...And yet, a star taken out of the sky itself.

What he says next catches her off guard, his eyes twinkling at the same time. “I look forward to it.”

How can she erase a smile from her face after that? How is it that the goodbye in between them doesn’t taste bitter, but it smells like the initiation of something...interesting? Perhaps, half of the lesson, she looks at the man that is standing in one corner, arms crossed over his chest, studying along even when he probably doesn’t understand the majority of the things that are being said. This intense gaze, like he really finds interest in the world, is what comes from a great listener. What makes an unforgettable person. What has her looking twice, or three times, or maybe even more. It’s embarrassing, yet so natural, like gravity.

As if, for some reason, time settled for them to meet, no longer running or going extremely slow, but following its natural flow.

🚀

Somnolence takes over her at any time, she wants to say it’s because something has just shut off in her body, but that is just an excuse to not blame it on her hard work. Even then, when the wind is so cold it almost burns against her uncovered hands, she still decides not to cancel the meeting she has, responsible as always. Her legs ache, not like a sting but as if they were asleep, moving her through such a spacious barrack. Everything looks...alive, machinery that moves with precision, lights that flicker in pretty pastel colors, screens that showcase information that she briefly reads while one of the receptionist walks her through the main hallway towards some darkened doors, further away from the space-cladded decorations at the center of such place.

The clicking of heels coming from the receptionist is different to her comfortable shoes, leaving her with a small question on the back of her head, wondering if she should have tried harder. Perhaps, wearing her scrubs and her hair on a messy ponytail isn’t exactly what the workers here consider proper, but they don’t spare her a glance. Machinery look as if they are alive here, but people seem more like robots. They move only when called, sat down on desks, it’s a repeated sound: staple, fold, put down; staple, fold, put down; it’s almost musical, rhythmic, it speaks wonders about how the world is so synchronized sometimes.

Her eyes inspect the last door, as black as the others, but somehow this one looks a bit used. There are fingerprints on the pristine doorknob, something she doesn’t notice in usual doors, but in these ones it’s inevitable not to. Everything looks so clean and yet, this is the peak of normality. The receptionist takes a napkin out of her purse with a huff, using it to wrap her hand around the doorknob after introducing a code, one that makes the device beep and the door open with a clear swoosh. The receptionist, one that she had captured just before the woman had to leave for home, turns to her with a serious expression on her face.

In most places, receptionist would welcome her with a smile. It’s the pleasantries of societal rules—

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Maybe, this astronomy agency should work harder on creating androids that could replace the overly petty receptionist. Instead, she shakes her head, pressing her favorite anatomy textbook to her chest. “No. Thank you for your hard work.”

Without anything else to be said, the receptionist bows and leaves, making her sigh deeply when she takes another look around. On the ceiling, pretty dots of some kind of glistening paint creates the imagery of stars on a dark surface, the same color of the night sky. This is the only thing that could be considered artistic in the glass-cladded, marble-based decorations, and yet, the oxygen inside her lungs seems to be insufficient whenever she looks at it. The moment of relaxation is cut short when someone cuts through the thin musical air, the sound of someone opening a door in quick mannerisms catches her attention, making her jump slightly when she turns to look at the source of such noise, coming from the door that the receptionist had just opened.

Yixing was standing there, black hair done a mess—it should give him the look of a crazy scientist, but rather, it looks cozy in a tremendously cold place. He holds the door in between his fingers, delicate just like his aura, an invisible halo glistening around him, bringing a sense of calm when he takes a simple breath out, mixed with a smile.

“Sorry, I thought it was a ghost. Someone opened the door and then, they didn’t come in and...that must have been you.” This is the first sign that Yixing doesn’t belong to a place like this. An outcast, she knows how it feels like, to be one of a kind in a world that seems to be so similar. He makes a bit of a commotion, absentmindedly of course, and he also believes in beings such as ghosts. No person of science would ever agree with that thought, and yet, he voices it out in such a place with dignity.

She studies his expression, and he still seems to be sleepy. This is normal for him, normal for her, two people who work way too hard and try to cover it the best they can, but when two people go through similar things, it is difficult to hide what can be seen to the eye. “It was your receptionist...I didn’t know I could enter.” She breathes out, tying to keep her voice levelled, but it’s a hushed whisper. She looks into his eyes, windows to the soul, and yet his hold a whole landscape to them. How is it that in a world filled with cities, traffic, skyscrapers and rushed matters, someone could—and does—hold nature in their gaze? She swears she sees flower bloom, the beginning of something, all in those brown eyes.

“Oh,” He moves to the side, extending his hand in a welcoming manner. “You can come in.”

“Okay.” She tells him, not knowing exactly what to say until she actually takes a few steps in and takes in the sight in front of her, around her, taking her to a new world. So, this is exactly what she has always been thinking of, how it feels like to be in a new dimension...and even the whole barrack couldn’t bring that sense upon her. “T-This is your office?”

“No,” He initiates his denial, bringing a frown to her features. “This is my home. I spend most of my time here, either way, and wherever I have my laptop is my home, so...”

This looks like how space really must be, full with life, yet hidden from the eyes of most people. A window shows what is outside, the parking lot in which she had been just a few minutes ago, but anything that could be out there will never compare to what Yixing’s ‘home’ looks like—let’s be honest, this is certainly an office—. Artistry is in the walls, in the painted galaxy that puts everything together, the soft neon lights that make the one light in his desk just stand out. There is a couch somewhere, deep purple, with a blanket thrown over it and a pillow. There are figurines, which she supposes are of trips taken around the world, from Paris to Rome, from Shanghai to Seattle. Everywhere. This is another fact that Yixing lets out, he likes being anywhere, travelling, he wants to make the world his home.

Maybe, because just like herself, he feels like he doesn’t belong most of the time.

The desk is dark, with a gray laptop over it that is open with a blinking document, the word-count legible enough for her to widen her eyes—the sight of forty thousand words scares her, and if projects are like this for computer engineers in the astronomy field, she doesn’t ever want to go to space. By its side, there is a mouse, some stacks of paper, a half-empty glass of water and huh, maybe that is why there is a small refrigerator somewhere in the office. He must spend a lot of time here, just like he said.

“This is so pretty...” She lets her voice trail, just like her gaze that roams through his office, hearing the shuffling of steps, the rustle of sheets and soon after, the noise of Yixing patting the spot on the purple couch. Her train of thought is cut off by that, turning to look at Yixing, who looks at her pleadingly.

“Take a seat.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking or instructing her, but with a curt nod she sits down, placing her bag down on the floor, resting her anatomy textbook over it, watching as Yixing crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you really like it?”

“It feels as if I was in space.” She compliments, though it doesn’t seem to get far as he gives a short chuckle, shaking his head when he reaches inside his mini refrigerator, opening the door in a swift motion and kneeling down to look in between the choices.

“What do you want? I have water, energy drinks, soda—” Looking at him feels like it should be magical. He is sincerely not like any man she has seen in the past. Maybe, in the realm of things, she could have met someone more handsome and she doesn’t quite remember—but none could ever compare to what he gives out to this world. This tranquility, utmost strangeness, beautiful and terrifically hypnotizing poise that holds his body together. Stars consist of the balance of forces and something about him is extremely balanced. The way he holds himself together, the sweetness of his gaze and yet, the professionalism in his tone.

“I’m fine with water.” She tells him, watching the water bottle being thrown into the air for her to catch. She does catch it in between her two hands, but her head collides with a soft thud on the wall behind her, making Yixing stand up quickly with widened eyes.

“Oh shit, are you okay?”

Something about the soft, innocent hit must have lit something in the room. The neon lights get stronger, more prominent, not only bathing the room on their glow but a corner of the space becomes more apparent. Her attention turns to that place, in which Yixing holds what seems to be a Solar System model. Perfectly made, all hand-painted from what she could tell, highly beautiful in the way it rotates around the big sun. Even the moon is there, planets from Mercury to Venus, to Mars and Neptune, Pluto a little dot that brings a smile to her face. She hadn’t seen those since probably elementary school and a sense of nostalgia washes over her when she stands up.

“It’s okay.” She tells him, uncapping the lid of her water bottle and bringing it up to her lips to take a sip. Only days before this, she had texted Yixing to meet up with him when they were both free, taking almost a week for them to come to a conclusion, but she wishes she could have come here sooner. “If hitting my head made that light up, I’ll do it again.” That brings laughter out of him, one of his hands going behind her head and patting the surface soothingly, as if that would help her.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, trailing after her when she gets closer to the animated model. It moves slowly, not quite fast, but it’s soothing in the way it rotates. “I’m surprised.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think you’d be the one to like space.”

“I didn’t care about space until earlier this year.” She confesses, running her fingers over the model of the earth, right over the moon, then down the next planet. “I realized there is more to life than my problems and my own world, so...whenever I feel like my problems are too big or my ambitions too high, I remember that I can dream as highly as I can. There is more over the sky, after all.”

Yixing hums at her words, making her look to the side when he rests his hands on his knees, pushing his weight forward to look at the model with her. The neon lights create shadows over his face, the glimpse of a stubble bringing a smile to her face. “Those are big words,” He tells her.

“Mrs. Li told me you’re an aspiring astronaut. Nothing should ever be too big for you.” The way he raises his eyebrows, half-amused, half-touched, is a clear warning label in her head. If fire alarms could sound inside her own thoughts, they would have, mainly because she feels as though she hit something deep within him, not hidden, but also not shown to the world.

“I aspire to be an astronaut...that doesn’t mean I am one.” He says, voice informative, a little bit careful. “I’ve never been as good as I should be to become one.”

But...his body training, clear through his physique, as well as the way he seems to breathe in and out facts about the universe should have been enough. Wanting to be there, with so much passion, should have been enough. “Ah, don’t say that. Your time will come eventually—”

“Don’t think so.” He says in between a chuckle, straightening his back and turning towards his desk. “So—”

“Wait, why don’t you think so?” She asks, following after his steps when he sprawls his body on his seat, turning on his rolling chair and looking at her with his hands resting on his thighs.

“I’m not the kind of man they want in the moon. I’ve been told I just lack the it factor.” He shrugs his shoulders, giving hindsight in his dream of wanting to go to the moon. Huh, maybe that is why only the Earth’s moon is shown on the Solar System model in his office. “I don’t know what that is, but I’ve tried for the past four years. It’s not easy, let me tell you.”

She takes a seat beside him, dragging a plastic chair that she sees somewhere in there before sighing. “It’s never going to be easy, and you probably think I am being nosy about this and hell yes, I am.” She replies, resting her palm on top of his desk. “But you’re different from the rest of the people working here, Yixing. You don’t have to be like the rest to reach your dreams.”

With a smile on his face, Yixing nods his head. “Fair enough.” He tells her, closing up after thanking her in a brief mumble. The mood is ruined now, apparently, maybe she had thought about him in such a high caliber, maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, because now Yixing is smiling at her, breaking away his gaze before clearing his throat.

So, this is probably the time to start with their project. The exact reason why she is there.

“What is your favorite planet?”

“Huh?” She asks, tilting her head to the side and undoing her hair from its ponytail, earning a glimpse of Yixing who studies the way her hands flex when she ties it up once again. “Neptune.” She breathes out after finishing, earning a hum from Yixing.

“You seem like a Neptune girl.”

Joyful laughter makes her way through her lips. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

Yixing drags his seat closer to his laptop, taking the mouse in between his fingers and searching for something. His blue cardigan falls off one of his shoulders, showing his typical all black outfit. “It’s not often picked. There is nothing interesting about Neptune.” So, is he meaning to say she is not interesting or is she taking this wrongly? “No rings to be seen in pictures, though it has some. No exceptional moon for people to write songs about, though it has fourteen of its own. It’s blue, it’s plain...and somehow, I feel like you’d see the good in it.”

She has never thought that far. She only thought she had a connection with it, something that has always brought her closer to feeling as if it is her favorite in the Solar System. “...That is better than my reasoning. I thought I liked it just because.”

“I have some projects I’ve written about Neptune. I made studies on Triton, too, its most important Moon.” Yixing is rambling now, clearly in his zone and matter of interest. He clicks away, pressing on a document and opening what seems to be a picture application. “These are the latest pictures taken of Neptune.”

Blue and soft gorgeousness appears from the screen, bringing a sense of peacefulness to the room. Or maybe, Yixing just makes her feel relaxed. However, she asks him: “If mine is Neptune, what is your favorite planet?”

“Earth.”

“...Earth?” Surprise takes over her voice, lifting her tone just slightly when she looks at him. “Do we live in the same Earth or have I just experienced a different one than yours?”

“There’s beauty in this world.” He tells her, so sincerely that she may start to believe it. She had wanted to run away for so long, simply live something stronger, and someone like Yixing, who has gotten the chance to see so much from the Earth, gives the world love poems with the way his eyes twinkle when talking about it. “We miss it most of the time, sure, but wake up one day before five in the morning. Just wait for the sun to rise, don’t listen to the world, just see the Earth come to life and then, you’ll know what I mean. The Earth is beautiful, only that we decide to make our lives less in contact with that part of nature.”

Talking about life, the universe, the planets and Earth comes easily for them, so much that when Yixing has to go back to work and it is too late for her to stay there, they have done nothing. She doesn’t say anything, not wanting to make Yixing feel bad when he says his goodbyes to her and thanks her for a great night of conversation. Dragging her feet away from that office is difficult, but she feels energized, enough to have five hours of sleep and wake up at five in the morning, waiting just the slightest hour before the Sun rises.

It’s then when she sends Yixing a picture of the sunrise, breathtaking and hopeful. It means a new day is starting, a new opportunity to change the world, to be better, to try harder. Maybe, she had forgotten that it wasn’t always about getting home and complaining about her day, but it was about thanking the world for having a place to stay, a life to live. For a walk, for the talks, for the goods and the bads.

That is when she learns whoever is not sending Yixing to the moon doesn’t realize how intelligent he is.

🚀

“Nurse!”

She stands up, moves to search for the voice that wants her and finds a patient.

“Nurse!”

Only later, someone else calls her and with rushed steps, she has to attend them. They are sick, after all, better make their stay at the hospital a bit more bearable. This is the cycle that she lives through, an empath, trying her hardest to help others even if her own back is weighted in responsibilities. She can take another hour away from her nights of sleep, she promises, she can say yes to another project, it doesn’t matter. She can do it, she really, really can.

Which is the exact reason as to why she hopes, wishes, prays that Yixing understands when she is an hour late to their meeting at his favorite local library. The traffic doesn’t help, definitely, and even though her apology text was well received with a tiny ‘don’t worry!’, she still worries. Guilt is eating at her skin, when she gets off her car and closes the door harshly behind her, thanking her sneakers when she rushes towards the entrance of the library, the dark night long gone when the golden lights of the place clash over her body, making her squint in the slightest, though not stopping on the loud stomps of her feet against the tiles, looking around for that set of black hair, those softened eyes and the dimple that appears in her daydreams every once in a while.

“Shh!” One of the librarians tells her, a redhead with a finger up her mouth, frowning deeply with a book in between her fingers. She halters her steps at that, noticing how the noise must have multiplied because—duh, this is a library. She mouths an apology, looking around the spacious library and almost giving up on finding Yixing there. Of course, it is late, he probably left because he had better things to do. She must be a nurse, but he works for one of the biggest agencies in the country—

Someone mumbles her name in a shout, making her turn to the source of it. She catches him then, seated by one of the tables, the only person beside a group of students still seated there at that hour of the night. Yixing smiles at her and for a moment, the soreness of her feet is bearable, the beeping in her ears stop, her blood pressure goes to a normal state. She realizes she can breathe normally again, that taking less than a millisecond to breathe in and out is not healthy, that her ribcage should expand comfortably. Drained, she feels, no amount of smiles from him could ever take away the physical tiredness, but she feels a tad better now that she notices he stayed there for her.

She takes the seat across from him, always putting her bag down, letting out a long sigh when she finally can sit down without her heart racing with the thoughts of being responsible. “Tired?” He asks, to what she can only nod. “What did you do today?”

No one ever asks that. Not Lea when making dinner at the same time that she gets home. Not her closest friends. Not her family. Hell, no one wants to heart about how much she has done because that’s just her life—too boring, too busy, too cramped. It takes her by surprise, so much that she struggles to find words: what had she done in that entire day to be so drained?

She starts talking, then, oh, she notices a while later that there is something to unveiling about the way she speaks to him. There is not a single layer of her soul that remains untouched by him. He seems to listen intently, hand pressed to his cheek, blinking at her knowingly when she gives too much information about how many coffees she had during the day, or simply when she speaks about certain sickness that he probably has no idea about—Yixing may be well dosed in his field, but the term Leishmaniasis is something he questions immediately. He listens, to her lunch-breaks and how she had to deliver two projects today, to how her phone’s data died on her when she needed it the most and how one of the doctors scolded her mainly because they were having a bad day.

As a listener, it feels nice to be listened to. She closes her mouth after a while, wondering what the hell she is doing—they have a project to finish, after all. “...But enough about me, we’ve already lost a night of working and we shouldn’t do that again.”

Yixing hums. “We can do both.”

“Why don’t we talk about you, then?” She asks, opening up one of the anatomy books she had brought with herself. Something simplistic, perhaps one of those encyclopedias used for elementary school students. She needs to take out the adult mindset and think like a student.

“What do you want to know?” He asks, tapping his fingers against the surface of his own book when she clears her throat.

“Why do you want to go to the Moon?” She questions, searching through the book with half of her mind paying attention to the task at hand.

“I woke up one day and wanted to do it—”

“Then, why haven’t you gotten accepted as an astronaut to have preparation for any future trips?”

Yixing’s face softens at that, eyelashes brushing against his under-eyes with a blink. He chuckles a bit to himself, as if he finds it funny. “I’ve failed the test for exchange of programs three times,” He announces, something that she wouldn’t have imagined coming from him, but when he lifts his gaze, there is an embarrassed smile on his features. “The first time around, my physical training just didn’t match up to what they were looking for. I worked out harder for the next test the following year, but then I had failed my language test by a point. Third time...I don’t know, it just didn’t happen.” He says. “It was all my fault.”

When her hand reaches forward, all she can think about is that she wants to touch him. In the way of a caress, in the warmth of letting him know that there is nothing wrong with falling every once in a while. It may be weird, much more when she gives a simplistic pat to the back of his hand. “You’ll get there, Yixing. You just have to believe in yourself.” She tells him, voice a mere blow of air, maybe because he felt too close or because they are in a library. “I believe in you. I’ve failed tests, as well, and look, I’m on my way to graduation.”

His lips quirk up at that, because it really isn’t the same and she knows it’s not that simple. Instead, he simply nods his head. “Let’s hope I do get there.”

“No, no, no. You’re saying it wrong.” She says. “You will get there.”

“I will get there.”

“Louder.”

“I can’t say it louder...we’re in a library.”

“Oh, right.” She hisses, biting down on her bottom lpi and moving around the table until she is seated next to him. His parted thighs connect with the skin of her scrub-cladded legs when she shows him a page with small drawings of the human body, understandable for younger students. An idea bubbles inside of her, explodes in colors and shapes, in the soothing manner of wanting to make him feel better. Or even more, of wanting to get to know him for who he is. “What about the anatomy of an astronaut?”

“Huh?” Yixing lifts an eyebrow. “What even is that?”

“It could be a concept. In average circumstances, we all have similar bone structure, which is what is mostly taught to kids in a very surface level kind of way. However, that’s boring. If we have you in, in your almost-astronaut glory, they’ll be interested.” She speaks, motioning with her hands as she speaks before she notices his gaze resting upon hers. “No? Is it a bad idea?”

“I trust you with that idea.” Yixing confesses, though he quirked an eyebrow. “But I’m still not an astronaut. I can pretend to be one for the kids, but don’t use that title on me.”

She scoffs at that, leaning back on her seat to talk to him. “Zhang Yixing,” She feigns a radio-station type of voice, lowering her voice and earning a shushing sound from the librarian. There is not a lot of people to bother here anyway, why is she so pissy about it? “Another man to get to the Moon. We can watch him take his first steps there—and oh, is he doing the Moonwalk there, as well? What a revolutionary picture!”

Yixing laughs at her antics, shaking his head before nudging her side. “You’re...out of your mind.”

“A little bit. I have to add some spice to my days.” She comments, though she rarely is like this, more inside her brain, much more boring. This is the power he holds over her, the one that pushes her to have fun.

“I see...” Yixing mumbles, pointing at the textbook in front of her. “So, what is this idea of yours?”

“We get you in an astronaut suit and I point the easiest bones in the body. Ribs, sternum, femur. Stuff like that.”

“I see...” Yixing mumbles. “And I could add some information in there, too. As in historical knowledge. First man on the Moon, first spaceship ever created...last planet, because Pluto is a planet, but Neptune had taken its place for a while.” He speaks his knowledge into the thin air. “It’s funny. You like Neptune and you got here last. Is this some kind of foreshadowing?”

“Yeah, it’s a metaphor.” She sarcastically adds, pointing with her chin towards Yixing’s laptop. “We could do some research before writing down the planification for the class. There is only a week left, after all, we need to get it over and done with.”

“Alright, Neptune.”

“Let’s just work on the project, Moon Dude.”

The comment brings a smile to her face, simply because this is the nature of silliness. This is what she needs, not to take everything so seriously for once and yet, still remain level-headed while having fun. The way he giggles at her words has her sighing, a grin the epitome of happiness on her face. Yixing is truly something else, but she doesn’t know exactly how to explain it.

🚀

“Did you know Neptune has the strongest winds in the Solar System?”

She doesn’t know about Neptune, but right now, after being a classroom filled with kids—some interested in what the adults were saying, some not—she is surprised to see how the weather has changed. The thin cardigan she had opted to wear is definitely not enough to cover her from the dense wind that clashes against her body, making her cling to the edges of her cardigan to keep it in place. Wrong, the wind just inflates the back of it, creating obnoxious fabric sounds that have her giving up against the strength of it.

Yixing doesn’t seem equally as bothered, even though he has changed from the astronaut uniform he had wear earlier and now he is back to his simple olive sweater. His hair is a mess under his beanie and god, maybe the smile on his face is messy, too—he doesn’t care that the wind blows on his face or that his words are abit misunderstood under the sound, he simply walks the two of them to their cars after one hour of endless attention to a group of children. He must be happy, a good mark on his folder back at work and she will probably earn some points on her thesis, too, but there is something else bothering her in the back of her mind. Maybe, that is why she is so annoyed.

The truth is that, while the little help in her thesis is of huge importance, she has grown used to texting Yixing. Sometimes for their project, sometimes because she is bored. Speaking comes to them easily, albeit a bit shyly. He says a fact that she has no idea about and she conquers with her own thoughts. A collision of two stars, some would call them, different worlds coming together but that is far from the truth. Yixing, to her, is like an individual of another galaxy—not because he is rare, quite the contrary, because he is otherworldly, in the way his normality causes her to feel more at ease.

She quirks an eyebrow at that, pressing her hands against her hair to keep it in place. “Is that so? Are you meaning to say your astronaut uniform got us to another planet?”

Yixing jokes around, resting his hands on each side of his beanie, pulling it off his head and ruffling the dark strands with his fingertips. “It’s always different when you’re around, like I’m on a different place.” He tells her, placing his beanie on top of her head before securing it in place. His hands are secure, just like him, everything about him screams protection. One day, when she was around twelve years old, she had gotten to see a shooting star—she made a wish, stupid at the time, she doesn’t quite remember it, but it never came true. From that day on, she thought it was a myth...and yet, there he is. The man who makes her feel like there is magic beyond our universe that we, as humans, will never understand. We either search for the truth or live it, unique for all. “Maybe that’s why I’m disoriented right now. I don’t even remember where I parked.”

“No way.” Her voice is filled with joy, she doesn’t even recognize it at this point. Far too busy, cladded in responsibilities, she thinks her professionalism has washed away any thoughts of a normal human being. “...You’re lying, right?”

The tint of red on the tips of his ears definitely does not come from the cold or the unexpected gush of fresh air that hits at their bodies as they near her car. “I’m not.” He laughs, using his chest mostly to create the sound before haltering his steps right behind her car. On his tiptoes, he inspects around the parking lot. “But I’ll find it. Maybe. If it was not robbed, that is.”

Her hands reach for his bicep, pressing it to catch his attention and the man lowers his gaze. Yixing’s curious gaze softens at that, a brief smile appearing on his features. The touch seems to clash, like an explosion in the sky. “Give me your keys.”

Tranced, something that she doesn’t quite understand the reason for, Yixing takes his keys out of his pocket before giving them to her, their palms brushing together and bringing a shiver down her spine. “Here.”

“Watch and learn.” She tells him, lifting the keys in the air and pressing the button down. At several directions, she presses it until she hears the beeping sound of Yixing’s car, some meters away from hers.

“...It was that easy?” Yixing asks, chuckling at his own innocence.

“It was.” This time around, when she gives him back his keys, she studies his body. Yixing is lean, long torso, marked by his hard hours of training thanks to his dreams. His hips are slim, not quite tall but he has some height to him. His eyes shine so brightly they could blind anyone and his dimples are still one of the main reasons she smiles back. “It’s cold.” She whispers, trying to find an excuse or a conversation to keep him for longer, feeling his hands reach for hers as he cups them, bringing them up to his lips and blowing on them.

The small raspberries of wind he throws to her skin are not necessarily all she needs to feel warm but the care he has, the way he treats her, is enough to bring some heat to her face. This feels odd—she has gone through this before; relationships, liking someone, sometimes reciprocating, sometimes not. She is an adult, it should be easier to give up and simply accept her attraction towards Yixing, but just like Neptune, she finds it hard to break through that ice barrier she has around her. “...Get into the car, then.” He says after pressing a small kiss to her knuckles, his own face now filled with embarrassment. He chuckles, mostly at himself, before she joins him on that.

Better to laugh and enjoy the now than think about the consequences of tomorrow. Once he lets go, she wonders if their conversions will die down eventually. They most likely will, she has only known him for a little bit over two weeks—that is better than getting attached. “I’ll go, since you don’t really want me here to start with.”

“I never said that.” He answers truthfully. “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

After taking her own keys out and opening the door to her car, she leans her elbow against the roof and looks at him with a smile on her face. “I guess,” She confesses. “I had fun, even when we were teaching the stupidest thing to a group of children. I’m sure they had fun, too.”

Yixing nods his head, waving his hand and almost sending her off until he called her name out loudly. She widens her eyes at that, looking around in case anyone is looking at them after his high voice. “...Uh, I was wondering if you’re free on Saturday?”

She touches her head, realizing that his beanie is still there and that, in front of her, there is a man who looks confident, yet a bit ashamed. She hums, tilting her head to the side slightly. “I work on the morning, but I’m free Saturday night, hopefully.”

“I would like to take you to the planetarium. If that is alright with you.” Yixing prompts and she swears there is a whole battle going on inside her stomach, going up to her chest and bringing some kind of warmth. Not only that, it feels tingly, as if no amount of oxygen would ever be fulfilling enough for her lungs.

“What are we doing there?”

“Going out?” Yixing asks, albeit a bit confused on his tone.

“So...”

“A date.”

Her lips part, her eyebrows lifting up as embarrassment fills her, lowering her head slightly and hiding it from him as she chuckles. “Oh, I get it now.” She replies, looking up at him while her forearm covers half of her face before humming. “Alright, yes, a date. I see it now. A date, how could I not have noticed?”

“If it’s alright with you, though, no pressure—”

“Yixing, oh God, it’s okay!” She exclaims, wishing that the wind is enough to wash away any insecurity left in her body. “I’ll go out on a date with you.”

“...Rea—? Fine.” Yixing utters, biting down on his bottom lip before pointing at his car. “I should leave, then.”

“Maybe.” She says, getting one foot inside the car before waving her hand at him. “Text me the details, alright?”

“I will!”

When she closes the door, she has to lower her body into the seat, enough for Yixing not to notice her when she covers her face with both hands and feels the biggest smile creeping up her face.

Life is hitting her up with surprises, the ones that has her story twisting to better ways. Maybe, a distraction is necessary...and Yixing is willing to give just that.

🚀

Colors don’t exist in such place. White. Blue. White. Blue. That is all she sees, with some glimpses of gray, as she moves through the stories for the afternoon, trying to get all bits of information inside her brain. The office of the nurses is too cramped, heat pooling at her lower back as she pushes her hair away from her face. Which one was the patient that needed surgery—was it the forty-five year old woman or was it someone else?

She releases a sigh, wondering why in the world the nurses in the shift were gone when she needs them the most. She couldn’t simply leave the doctors, alone, that is but being a freshman in a group of sophomores and senior brings her to not being taken into consideration much. A raged sigh leaves her lips, looking for a pen to scribble down the bits of information she should give to the nurses at the shift once they enter, but her pen is long gone. Perhaps, in her purse...or wasn’t it behind her ear?

The stress is starting to get to her.

She throws her head back, focusing on breathing in and out and calming down the migraine that has taken part on half of her face. Her body feels dirty, as if all the hard work had accumulated in sweat and heat, and perhaps that is the exact reason as to why she is freaking out. Her lungs expand, though anxiousness takes over her when she can’t take enough oxygen in, releasing it in a long swipe before she stands up. Right, her purse, she shouldn’t be procrastinating, the faster she finishes her job, the quicker she can get out of there.

Her purse is opened at that time, cringing at the sight of crinkled papers, plastic bags of snacks she had that she should throw out and an empty bottle of perfume. It has been long since she realized that she has lost her grip in her life—when she lost passion for her job before she even graduated with a degree, when she stopped hanging out with her friends, when waking up seemed like a task and her bed was far too inviting. Instead of thinking about what she could change, she opts to favor working. One day, this will all be worth it—it’s not wrong having one dream or one goal, and once she reaches it, maybe normality will make her feel better. SHe is one with her job, after all.

She takes another pen out, clicking on the tip and testing it on her hand before she realizes that her phone is vibrating. Ignoring it is what she does, Saturday is probably the day in which Lea bothers her the most. She’s a younger student, she has all the time to go out. When she moves towards the main desk once again, she writes down the information from the patients looking to enter the operating rooms.

The sound of the door opening takes her away from her thoughts, side-eyeing whoever had entered the office. With a plastic bottle dangling from his hands, Li Wei makes his way inside. One of the younger nurses, for sure, a sophomore to be exact. Most of the workers there are enchanted by his lively personality and youthful looks, from the way his cheeks fluff out when he smiles and how that seems to contrast his delicate body. The scrubs look on him as somewhat fashionable, his collarbones peeking from underneath the fabric when he leans against the desk with his hands, calling her name in a tutting tone.

“You shouldn't be here. It’s not your shift to attend.” Li Wei adds, one of the few people that feel somewhat bad that she has so much work on her shoulders. It is as though she can’t say no, afraid of the lights of recognition as someone of bad blood.

“Tell that to Nurse Wong. I’ve been here since the morning and she hasn’t looked away from her damn phone all day.” Just like in any hospital, she can’t bring her tongue to stop itself when anger finally overtakes her, releasing a harsh breath through her nose. “Can’t she just divorce from her rusty husband and stop treating me as if I was worthless?”

Li Wei’s eyes soften at that, hearing the sound of a phone vibrating in the far distance. “Go home. Leave this as is. If she doesn’t do her job, the directors of the hospital will realize. It’s already eight at night, go home, I tell you.” He walks towards her purse, taking a look inside his his fingers parting slightly, though she doesn’t pay attention to that as she scribbles down the last few names in her list.

“I—I’ll do it. I just need to make sure—”

“You need to pick up your phone,” Li Wei says after reaching inside her purse, showing the screen to her with a smile on his face. “A guy is calling.”

Yixing.

Zhang Yixing.

The same guy that has called her for the past thirty minutes and she has ignored. The one that has probably been waiting for her two hours in the planetarium.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Her mouth can’t stop cursing when she holds the phone to her chest, looking down at the picture she had taken of Yixing during their presentation with children. She picks up then, pressing the phone to her ear and sighing. “Yixing, hi. Listen, honey, give me three seconds. I am doing...something—” She speaks quickly, barely hearing him utter an ‘okay’ before she looks at Li Wei with wide eyes. Sure, he may not be a friend but she needs one of those right now and if she doesn’t talk to anyone about this, she’ll die. Of embarrassment, not physically, but draining in its own extent. “If, for some reason, I had told a guy that I was going out on a date with him and I am super into him but I forgot because of working a shift that isn’t mine, should I: One, lie; or two, say the truth?”

Li Wei crosses his arms over his chest after fixing the glasses that were falling down his face. “Did you really miss a date for covering Nurse Wong’s shift?!”

“You know how badly I have tried to be on her good list!”

“Listen,” Li Wei starts, his usual playful voice long gone as he nears her, seriousness shining in his eyes. “This is a job that will drain you. You’ll have other nurses stepping on you just at the same time a doctor wants you to help. You have lives to take care of and patients to see, but you have the right to live your own life, too.” The honesty in his voice has her eyes shaking. To her past self, she wants to tell her to stop draining herself for a dream that she had simply decided on a rush. To the woman who was once lost, she wants to teach her how to find herself. She doesn’t want to live her life pleasing others, bringing so much pressure over her body that she needs to forget about herself. What she needs is to find fun in life, instead of pushing it to someone else’s agenda.

She resumes the call then, closing her eyes tightly as she speaks. “Yixing, sorry. I totally...I had so many patients with me and the senior nurse left me alone with all the work, a shift I didn’t have and—I don’t think I can make it now, but if you wait for a bit longer, I’ll be there—”

“I’m back home. Don’t worry.” Though, Yixing’s voice is tender, almost like he doesn’t want to speak too loud. He sounds serious, that tinge of his voice long gone.

“Yixing, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, I—I should have called you. It was stupid of me.”

“Yes, you should have called me.” Yixing announces, then the sound of moving and a sigh captures her attention. “But I get you, you’ve given all for your job and you’ll continue to do it. I can’t shame you for that.”

When is the last time she has enjoyed her free time? When is her free time not consisted of sleeping hours? This thought alone has her scrunching up her forehead, resting one hand against it when she hears the tremble of her voice. “I feel really bad, Yixing. I really wanted to go.”

“We can go again anytime. When you can...and when I can.” The sound of scribbling against the paper behind her has her feeling far too much. She doesn’t know how much she can take, when the sound of the city is too loud, when the music is too much, when the world moves too fast and she feels like she can’t hold on. There is light in the sky and yet, she never stops to see it. “Really, I didn’t call you for that. I called you to see if you’re okay—”

Once again, she feels like apologizing. “You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry—”

“Stop apologizing.” Yixing finishes, wisdom filling his voice when she hears the sound of him rotating on his chair. She knows he is in his home, seeking light in his neon. “As long as you’re happy, I’m okay. Do your job, your growth is more important than a date—and I’ll wait here.”

Your happiness. God, what makes her happy? She can hear the sound of some city-like song in her head, but still that doesn’t bring happiness. Is being lonely what she wants? Or does she want to be accompanied? Is leaving a choice or does she have to stay? Too many questions go through her head when she decides to leave, picking her purse up and placing it over her shoulder, taking her written list and getting out of the office.

“Can I confess something?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t know if I’m happy,” She tells him, noticing how her voice is hushed as she moves through the packed hallways, holding tightly into her notes when she continues. She bumps into a few people in the way, as well. “It feels as though I speak and no one listens. It feels like I have never made a decision in my life. I don’t know where to go...”

“You don’t have to...run.” Yixing tries to look for a word, before his voice lowers. “It’s beautiful here. It’s up to us to make our world beautiful.”

“But there are others,” She says, opening the door to one of the consulting rooms, peeking in to see if Nurse Wong is inside. “Others will always ruin it for you.”

“But...I don’t know if what I’m thinking makes sense, but...it’s up to us to cut people away from our lives. They’ll always be there, in essence, in space, with us...and I haven’t quite mastered how to not pay attention to that. Maybe, life is not supposed to be perfect. No planet is perfect, either. That’s part of life.” He tells her, making her smile tightly at the sound of his voice. The beach, perhaps, no, he’s more like the moon that connects with the ocean. He’s something so profund, so tranquil, the movement of waves that take her away, the depth of it. He’s too much for her to take.

“Anyways, thank you.” She doesn’t want to talk about it too much, opening another consultation room and seeing Nurse Wong seated on the desk in front of the doctor, using her phone and the incredibly fast Wi-Fi. “When can we go out again?”

“...I can in two weeks. Friday.”

“Alright. Friday at six, in two weeks?”

“Sounds alright.”

“I’m sorry, again—”

“Don’t be.” Yixing says. “It happens.”

“I’ll have to hang up now, okay? I’ll text you.”

“Please, do.”

The moment her phone rests inside the pocket of her scrubs, she sniffles in order to capture someone’s attention. Nurse Wong doesn’t look at her until she tosses the folder to her chest, pressing it against the other woman before humming.

“Nurse Wong, I’ll call you out on your procrastinating. It’s not up to me to be working here at this time and I’m losing my free day while covering someone else’s shift that is obviously healthy and here.” She calls out, watching as Nurse Wong raises her thin eyebrows. “Do your job, Nurse Wong. It doesn’t look good to have people waiting or dying because you don’t do anything.”

“Excuse—”

“Yeah, yeah, excuse you. I don’t have the time to listen to you now, sorry. I need to take a shower and go to sleep, I haven’t touched the bed properly in two days.” She whispers, crossing her arms over her chest and sending a goodbye to the dumbfounded doctor before throwing the door behind her.

No one seems to notice her when she gets out there in the hallway and she releases a smile when she realizes just exactly what she had done.

The reigns of her life are hers.

🚀

Triton.

Who is Triton? What is it?

The first Neptunian moon to ever be discovered, as well as a mythology character. This goes unnoticed with how much she is enjoying herself. The planetarium casts its lights softly, speckles of light just falling on top of gigantic ceilings, dark to the point they seem endless, tiny in comparison to the two people talking and walking around. The choice is unusual—most people there are children with their families or perhaps some students that just happened to have to go there with their teachers for some project, but none of them are on a date. One would think of this as weird, enough to cut through the connecting thread in between them, but the enchantment of the situation is palpable.

Through and through, Yixing is a romanticist. The tune of a piano is not the same for him than it is for anyone else. He speaks and talks of seriousness, even when he doesn’t say it verbally. This image is presented to her in the way his hand rests on the small of her back as he beckons her forward, helping her look at the most valuable of possessions in such place, pointing out the Solar System three-dimensional imagery, casted by a projector and making her reach her hand up as she traces Venus, Mars and lastly, Neptune, gigantic in comparison to her. Even a small planet is bigger than what she accustomed to on a daily.

Something about him that night is naturally appealing—not that he has never been so, but she can slowly but surely feel herself getting more comfortable with Yixing, less awkward, enough for her to rest her chin against his bicep every once in a while, looking for seats for them to listen to the very obviously underappreciated speech and presentation, the last one for the day. Not a lot of people are there but Yixing is excited, rambling about how when he was in high school he had attended to one of these and it had only helped him further into getting in the field he is part of today. This goes on to show that in life, nothing is ever left to randomize itself.

Perhaps, he doesn’t notice the way she is staring at him, like he is a god of Greek mythology, just as if he was a moon, as well, one of the many that exist in the galaxy. Comfort is brought upon her, rare to find in people nowadays, in which the mere glide of his fingertips to slot against her own is enough to bring a smile to her face and paralyze her heart all at once. His hands are delicate, perhaps from reading too many books or from passing them through his hair a lot, she doesn’t know, but it materializes him perfectly.

He’d never realize that night was one of the best she’s ever had.

His forehead shows three lines, all thanks to his sleeked back hair, as in the front row of the spacious classroom-like spot they sat. Yixing is concentrated in the topic at hand and she is, as well, she’d continue to be had it not been for the distraction of his hand slipping into hers, as if it belonged there. He had talked so much, ranted and played around, showing a silly side of him that would have anyone at his astronomy agency scrunching up their noses, but the way Yixing spoke about the universe only made their Earth more beautiful. His denim jacket is perfect against his skin, it matches his defined jaw, the depth of his cheeks until they land on his lower lip. It creates a shadow there, one that not even the projector can dismiss in such a place, and when he widens his eyes at something, she knows he is surprised. He smiles like a kid, like he has seen this for the first time and she can’t bring herself to pretend she is not interested when he turns to her and points at the projector with excitement.

“Look, there is your place.” Yixing excitedly adds, making her turn to the old man giving the presentation, the room dark only for the rotating image of Neptune. Her date leans to her side until his perfume mingles with her breath, creates a new world in between the two when he lets out a sigh. “Neptune has never been more beautiful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen this presentation a bunch of times,” Yixing complies, putting their interlocked hands on top of his thigh. “But never with someone who believed in me. Someone who cared.”

His words soften her heart when she leans back, watching the moons moving around Neptune, how the presentator suddenly talks about Triton. Huh, she briefly recalls Yixing mentioning it at the beginning of the night. “Triton and Neptune are quite romantic, I’d say.” She wants to laugh at that, had she not been too entranced in this atmosphere she would have, but the world is quiet, yet so full at the same time. So gorgeously crafted, not only on Earth but everywhere. Where had everything gone wrong for malice to exist? “Neptune captured Triton, a bit melancholic and sadist at that. Triton will be torn apart by Neptune’s gravity one day, but it stays there and Neptune is the same. They slowly but surely get closer—”

Like Yixing and herself.

The difference is that she’d never forgive herself if she ever were to hurt a soul that pure.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” She tells Yixing, looking to the side only to see his face moving centimeters closer. Yixing quirks an eyebrow, asking her to repeat again before she utters the same words. His face relaxes at that, chuckling as he nods his head. “I mean it. This is the most beautiful date I’ve ever had.”

“It’s not over yet. I still have to take you to dinner, don’t speak as if you’re leaving now.”

“I was just complimenting you.” She says, not noticing that she had looked up and down his features, capturing his eyes, two stars; his nose, the flag of her perseverance that leads to the discovery of a new land: his lips. She’d never kiss him now, not here in front of everyone, but damn her for liking this man so quickly, whiplash at its finest.

“...You deserve this and more.” He swears, like he really means it, before turning to look at the presentation once again.

One would think it could not get better than this. Yixing could not possibly pick a nice restaurant without the expensiveness getting in between them, making the atmosphere seem far too smug, but he did. He picked something nice, simple, private enough for the two of them to talk freely—this time not so much about space but about themselves. He laughs freel,y like he doesn’t give a damn and the best part? It’s that he does. Yixing is not afraid to show that, just like anyone else, he feels and aches, he works too hard, he sometimes fears of not reaching his dreams.

This is why it feels lonely when, seated inside his car as he drives her home, their hands are no longer interlocked and the sound of music fills the background, highlighting the sound of the rain outside. It had even rained, this must be a clear sign that she should stay with him, perhaps a little bit longer for them to finish the night together, but Yixing is too much of a gentleman, not even doing the slightest bit of movement to kiss her. Her head lulls to the side, admittedly tired, looking over at Yixing that continues driving and talking about something. She is listening, she promises, but she is longing for him even when he is there.

Like gravity, she is pulled towards him and he is pulled towards her, hopefully.

The sight of her apartment complex has her sighing, wondering where the night had gone when she simply says with a smile: “I had the best time of my life.” She confesses, something that has Yixing chuckling.

His hand rests on his steering wheel, the other tightening on hers when he shakes his head. “I’m glad, but don’t lie to me. It’s a pretty silly date—”

“It was perfect.” She tells him, reaching for the button to undo her seatbelt when Yixing stops her, placing his hand on top of hers to get it undone.

“Let me help you.”

“I can get out of it myself, you know?”

“I know,” But he doesn’t give more of a reasoning, instead, he undoes her seatbelt and lets it snap back to its place, staring up at her and about to ramble about something when he realizes the closeness between the two. She could count every hair on his head from how close he was, his eyebrows furrowing together when his lips part slightly. Dry. They are dry and not on hers and that is unfair. “Sorry.”

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, ythinking that maybe he would think of this as a hug instead of an attempt to kiss him. “Don’t apologize so much.”

“Look who’s talking.” Yixing prompts, letting his dimple become visible as the rain clutters his window with blurry mirroring images of them. His hand rests on top of her thigh, the soft breath he lets out fanning on her face and when he looks down at her lips, she gives the final step.

Never had a kiss felt like peace, like finally, she was alone in the world...but not completely, but with someone else. Accompanied in her own loneliness. Never had someone touched her thigh with the tip of his fingers quite like he did, like there was nothing more precious than the time they shared together. His head tilts to the side, slow and somehow addictive, making her release a breath when she pushes her body forward, wanting to feel the heat of him in such a cold night. Two more kisses and he’s dropping her off at her own door, giving the third one in front of her apartment before he is off, a dumb smile plastered on her face.

She wonders if hers matches his.

It probably does.

There is an ocean in Neptune, a water planet, that is engulfing her in the depths of continuing with this story. Something tells her that fighting against the world with Yixing will become much easier and maybe, one day they’ll get to their dreams. For now, why would she want to leave if Earth has its beauties, too?

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