#my mudrock research did me well i think

[snzinite]

Nothing to See Here

2k words. yes that is the fic name. i finally finished something that wasn't a headcanon! yippee!! this is for @messysneezer who requested a fic involving Mudrock. sorry this took so long, i was busy for all of January so I didn't have much time to write write. this ended up being a little longer than i pictured. i hope you enjoy it!

female sneezes (mudrock) / allergies (pollen but mostly dust), some talk about mess and spray but not really much of either

Mudrock had never been inside of a Leithanien library before. Even in a town as small as this, it was something of a wonder. The ladders moved themselves to and fro, guided by the unseen hand of the musical arts of the gramophone units. Their music was soft and ambient, and their effects were more seen than heard. Books levitated themselves off the shelves for the clientele, going so far as to flip through themselves if one decided they were only looking to have a peek instead of a read. Warm lighting splashed visibility around classy decor of ornate stone and lacquered wood. She would have liked to spend a few days in this building alone… were it not for a few problems.

“Heh-xxng-choo!”

She scrunched her shoulders together as she pressed her finger into her lip through the sneeze. She had been waiting for that one to work its way out of her ever since she had to slip out of her suit. 

A particularly nasty Leithanien caster unit had managed to tail what remained of her squad as they made a desperate play to soldier on to Kazdel. Her men lacked the strength or the willpower to square off against them now, so their only hope had been to ditch their equipment in a safe location and scatter about this border town in disguises. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the silky smooth straps of her casual dress glide across them. The feeling almost didn’t register against the soreness from months of having her armor and mud plates weigh down on them. She wore clothing, yet she felt almost naked.

“Het-xngt-choo!”

Speaking of feeling naked, the brief moment of being exposed to the grass pollen-laden air of springtime Leithanien had been enough to cause her allergies to flare up. Not exactly pleasant in its own right, but it could prove deadly if it caused her to be found. She rubbed the underside of her nose back and forth, subtly massaging her septum and the outside of her nostrils to ease them of the stinging itch that throbbed. It helped until it didn’t, and the sensation of a fingernail scratching and itch sent a tingle up to her sinus, until–

“HeeETCH-XNGT—oo!”

She exhaled after that one, nearly losing control but managing to stifle at the last second. The volume definitely increased a few notches, and she had officially drawn the notice of the denizens of the library. An older Caprinae man shushed her with a disapproving glare before adjusting his reading spectacles and going back to his tome.

(“Excuse me,”) she whispered as an apology before rubbing her nose again. It felt warm to the touch, with moisture beginning to collect at the insides of her nostrils. She attempted to sniffle it back. In that moment, she discovered two new unfortunate things about the situation.

One: this library was very dusty. The inhale caused her to just about feel every particle of dust that was invited into her already irritated, sensitive nasal passages. It made the itching migrate to the top of her throat for the time being, but she knew that it wouldn’t stay there for long. Apparently, the grand mastery of Leithanien arts units did not extend to cleaning functions. Now that she could feel it, she saw it on every surface, book, and floor she could lay eyes on.

Two, and much more immediately deadly: a Spire Caster, one of the most elite arts users in the Leithanien military, had made their way into the library while she had occupied herself with worrying about her allergies.

She took an involuntary breath of alarm and ducked behind a shelf. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. How many of her people had also chosen this library to hide out in? She hadn’t seen any come in, but the place was fairly large; it didn’t mean there weren’t any here. She willed herself to calm down. There was a reason she chose this place–detection arts were thwarted by thick sheafs of matter, and what better place to find such obstacles than a library?

The shot of adrenaline dulled the itching for a moment, but as she calmed it returned with a vengeance. She tried to swallow to tame it, but a pang of scratchiness lanced through her mouth into her nose. She took a hitching breath, then two–

“Haehh–choo! Hah-kxnt-choo!”

And stifled with all of her willpower against the side of her wrist. As soon as she was satisfied that she wasn’t going to sneeze again, she risked opening her eyes and shooting glances around her. The Elafia woman who shared the aisle with her gave her a strange, pointed look, but everything more or less remained the same otherwise. 

She shook her head a bit and sniffled again. Blinking made her realize that tears had begun to pool at the corners of her eyes. She wiped at them with a delicate touch so not as to irritate her eyes.

Stifling meant she was now congested as all hell, not relieved of any of the itching, and generally miserable… but at least that meant her nose was clogged up to any other irritants looking to extend the misery further. She could still breathe in some troublemaking dust if she wasn’t careful, but low, shallow breaths would hopefully prevent that. She tested it out. The breath only fanned the embers of a sneeze rather than set it ablaze, so she managed to relax a little on that front.

The next step was to get clear of that Spire Caster by any means necessary. Not sneezing was half the battle–not casting out a metaphorical flare to her location was only one aspect, but merely being seen would be enough. She began to walk through the aisleways between shelves. She kept her pace measured as leisurely or academic; frantic footfalls of a run would more or less shout out that she was exactly who they were looking for.

She neared the center of the floor now. The dust on the shelves was thicker here. It made the roof of her mouth itch just looking at it. Her lips had parted so she could breathe entirely through her mouth. Any movement of air through her nose was bound to be futile and noisy at her luckiest. She needed to leave this place and regroup with her squad, but she couldn’t risk making a move so soon after she’d spotted the enemy. 

Think, she forced herself. Stop thinking about how much you need to sneeze. You’re supposed to be a scholar, remember? What kind of scholar enters a library and doesn’t look at any books?

She reached for one at random, and her heart skipped a beat as it levitated itself into her hands. She had seen it earlier, but it turned out to be quite another thing to experience it personally. She did her best to ignore the puff of dust produced by it opening its cover for her and flipping through its pages. It would have been useless to her even if she wasn’t struggling to see through watering eyes, though. She had picked up enough Leithanien to hold a conversation, but she still couldn’t read more than directory signs.

She shut the book and tucked it under her arm. She paced around the corner, hopeful to find a reading table or chair in the corner of a room to keep watch over the area from when she froze.

Standing in the middle of the small space between shelf-aisles was the Spire Caster. They didn’t look like they were looking her way, but the unseeing face of their white masks always gave precious little away.

The jolt of fear caused Mudrock to suck in a lungful of air as she pivoted her heel back to press her back against the shelf she had just walked from. She stopped herself, but it was too late; the breath had already disturbed the contents of her sinuses. The resulting noise was no more than a deep snuffle, but that was the least of her worries. The tickle that danced in her nose spiked its heels into her, and she hitched once, twice, and–

“Hah-choo.” That was fine, but she wouldn’t get away with just that. “Hah-choo!” A little louder, but both had been contained fairly well. But the tickle only magnified, and she could only draw in a huge breath. Her mouth hung open. The world seemed to stop. She felt a tear roll down the outside of her eye off of her face.

Cover yourself! The thoughts came crashing in. Hold your nose shut! But they had come too late.

“HUUUESSSHHoo!” She sneezed down toward the floor, fully uncovered. Mercifully, the lighting wasn’t right for her or anyone else to see the resulting spray. Unmercifully, she wasn’t done–

“HAAUUUUESSSSSSHH-OO!” She brought a hand up in a reflex after the next one, but it wouldn’t have done her much good anyway. She had nothing to sneeze into but her bare hand and arm, and neither would have muted the sound. Thankfully, letting these out had reduced the itching dramatically, and she managed to end off the fit with a “HA—-choo!”

Her sinuses had cleared themselves of their congestion somewhat, too. She was much less uncomfortable now. Unfortunately, she was also probably much more heard by the Spire Caster. She whipped around to look for them. She did not have to look long.

The Spire Caster rounded the same corner she had just moments ago. The robed figure stood somewhat shorter than Mudrock, but their presence made her feel small. The black eye sockets of their mask bore down on her like hateful coals. She remained rock still, hand frozen over her face as though it would prevent them from sucking her soul out. Which, for all she knew, was just the sort of terrible spell that Spire Casters were capable of.

They held her gaze for a moment, then gave a chuckle as they dug around in their pocket.

“Let me guess. Foreigner? Grass season?” Their voice was soft, muted further behind the mask.

Oh. Right. They have no idea what me or my squad look like without our gear. This line of thinking was interrupted by a wordless panic followed by a single, stifled sneeze.

“HET–ngt-choo.” It took Mudrock a moment to find her voice again. When she did, her first syllable was choked with phlegm. “How did you know?”

“Well, the horns are more or less a dead giveaway,” they said. “And this time of year is always the worst for grass pollen. My sister has it worse than you do, and we’re from the C Minor Spire.”

She didn’t know what the C Minor Spire was, but she did recognize the bundle of gilded cloth she was handed from the Spire Caster’s pocket: a handkerchief.

“Oh,” she said, before forcing her brain to engage in nicety mode. “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly.”

“It’s just a simple cloth. Please, keep it. If you’re planning on staying in this nest of dust, it sounds like you’ll need it.”

She hung in a pause before taking the handkerchief from them. She hadn’t made a mess of her face by sneezing, but removing her hand and showing her face felt like a barrier being breached by the enemy. She brought it back up by burying her nose in the cloth and blowing to get what remained in her nasal passages out of her. It felt nice on her irritated face; warmed by the Spire Caster’s body heat so it wasn’t uncomfortably cold, but not so warm that it aggravated any sensitive skin. “Thank you,” she managed.

“It’s nothing,” the Spire Caster said. “I hope you manage to feel some relief.” They turned away to leave, but they only made it one step before stopping. “Oh, right. Pardon me for asking, but you wouldn’t happen to know of any Sarkaz mercenaries by the name of Mudrock, would you?”

Nothing else could catch her off guard today. “Mud… Rock? Sounds like a silly mercenary name, no?”

The Spire Caster snorted. “Silly or not, he’s responsible for a lot of dead people. Be careful if you run into him or his men.”

“Will do,” she said, savoring the irony over a sniffle. “Thank you.”

#snz #snzblr #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzknights #snzfic #snz fic #took some liberties but i had a lot of fun with this #yes its a library fic AND a hiding fic sue me #i thought it was a cool idea #my mudrock research did me well i think

[adlbeay]

I wanted to talk about the themes in the Walk in the Dust event. The story of Arknights has always had a high level of thematic consistency, but it’s especially prominent in this event. I feel like a lot of the discussion of the story in certain places comes down to “lore” and surface-level plot details, so I wanted to get this out there somewhere.

The two big ideas that are covered in Walk in the Dust are that of revenge and the homeland. Let's talk about revenge first. Long post and story spoilers under the cut.

In the beginning, we are introduced to Elliot, aka Passenger, who by the time we meet him, is an aimless husk of a man. He is utterly empty inside despite being the most powerful figure in the Reefsteep black  market, with vast wealth and political influence under his thumb. Having completed his decades-long quest to slay everyone who was involved in betraying his teacher, he has no more goals for his life. After killing  the Lord Ameer of Ibut, the last of his targets, he realizes that the revenge he had been pursuing was ultimately empty, that the weapons he built and the schemes he engineered to that end no longer moved him. Even the death of the Lord Ameer didn't matter one bit in the political landscape of Sargon.

As for the Sargon army... We live in different times now. The ruling  Padishahs simply care not about what is happening here in this barren  wasteland. My guess is that it matters not to them whether it's the  father or the son that's in charge. Actually, to tell the truth, it  hardly matters to me either.

Ultimately, no one cared if the Lord Ameer was murdered or simply  died in an accident, not even Elliot himself. Sargon continues to be exploited by the Columbian military and the ruling Lords. Professor Thorne remains dead. His research, once entrusted to Elliot to prevent  it from becoming a weapon of war, has nonetheless been used by Elliot  himself to bring even more death. Now, 22 years later, Passenger sees  finding Kal'tsit as his only path to salvation, so that she can once  again give him a purpose like she did when she rescued him the first time.

Folinic's mom, Lillia, also shares the same kind of story. Her husband was killed in Chernobog when the count decided to purge the researchers working on the sarcophagus device. Among the children of the families broken up by this incident are Lyudmila (later Crownslayer), Alex and Misha (later Skullshatterer), and Luisa (later Folinic). Lillia finds Kal'tsit after months of searching, intending to take revenge on  Grand Duke Vanya not just for her husband, but also for Luisa, who never got to know her father because of it. Kal'tsit tries to talk her out of  it, even during the final phases of the plan, but Lillia's mind is set.  She entrusts Kal'tsit with taking care of both Luisa and Lyudmila, as  she knows she won't be able to come back to live a normal life after  this. And... she succeeds. Although it is Kal'tsit who ultimately administered the poison, their plan works flawlessly and Duke Vanya is finally dead.

Except it still ended up being completely meaningless. The Grand Duke was in a glorified nursing home already near the end of his life, and if Kal'tsit didn't kill him then some other conspirator from the Ursus  political backstage would have done it anyway. He was already crippled and blind, and as we find out during the confrontation with the Emperor's Blade, even Kal'tsit only agreed to Lillia's plan because it  defused the conspiracies of other powerful figures who would have used  the Duke's death to spark another rebellion. The only thing that Lillia ended up accomplishing was making sure that Louisa would grow up without both a mother and a father, and Lyudmila would never get the answers she really wanted about her family's death. And, although she ended up not doing it, she was even also planning to go back to Chernobog to kill  Sergei, Alex and Misha's father, for his betrayal.

And this carries on through the future outside the event. Crownslayer ends up joining Reunion because she thinks it will give her the answers  she wants and avenge her father. Folinic almost lets her anger at Atro's death get her into a confrontation with Wolumonde. In the end, Crownslayer is stopped by Kal'tsit and Folinic is calmed down by  Suzuran, but we might be able to imagine what would have happened if  they managed to carry out their vengeance.

The theme of homeland is one that's intrinsically tied to Kal'tsit and has at least a bit of relation to the broader story outside of the event. It's harder to talk about since it's not clearly  split into individual stories like previously, but there's at least one character that exemplifies this theme the most: Old Isin.

Old Isin is appropriately to his name, old as rocks. He remembers being a servant to some lord of a long-lost city that very few even know once existed, and spends his time telling fortunes while trying to seek out people who, like him, also share that past. According to Kal'tsit, the city's people were scattered when it was destroyed, and now only Isin even remembers the origin of the name "Reefsteep". Even then, Isin only has vague memories, and believes it to be his unforgivable sin that  he has forgotten so much about the city.

Old Isin originally helps Kal'tsit and Elliot because he hopes that  she can help him remember about the lost city, and thus absolve his  "unforgivable sin". And Kal'tsit indeed does help him. Isin begins to recall the conquests of armies a thousand years ago, something even with  his age he should not have been a part of, much less remembered.  Kal'tsit dispels the illusions clouding his memory, and reveals that  what Isin remembers is only the stories that the padishah recounted to  him, that the glory of his old city was only a memory of another memory. In truth, the city in Old Isin's memory was merely a stepping stone for the padishah's ambition to conquer the uncharted deserts, and was abandoned just as easily when that campaign failed. His homeland's glory was just an illusion created in his mind by the padishah's charisma.

Which brings us to the Emperor's Blade. Wherever he stands is the dominion of the Empire of Ursus. Whatever he does carries out the Ursus Emperor's will. Or at least, that's how the Royal Guards imagine themselves, single-handedly carrying out their homeland's legacy. Kal'tsit lays it out clearly:

Kal'tsit: Tell me, what does the current Ursus Emperor think of the Pine Valley affair? Or do you mean to tell me the seeds of that uprising, the origins of the crisis were all the will of the Emperor? Feel free to keep deceiving yourself, but the truth is the young emperor is unaware of the events that transpired there. You believe he has no  need to know. You... all of you seek a bygone era. You are just caught up in the former emperor's grand vision!

As does Patriot in Chapter 8:

Patriot: I fought with your fathers. Your strength and tactical acumen are no less impressive than theirs. But you look at the Ursus of those times with rose-colored glasses. What you see is nothing more than your wild fantasies.

The Royal Guards are described in not too unclear words as soldiers  who probably believed too much of their own grandiose affect. They are unparalleled fighters, to be sure, but it isn't hard to infer that those words about executing Ursus's will and each Royal Guard being his own nation are words intended to strike fear into their enemies rather than  statements of any real truth. Indeed, if you know anything about the internal politics of Ursus, the idea of "Ursus's own will" can be seen as more of a nostalgia at a bygone era when Ursus was, or at least seemed, united in conquest under the previous Emperor. The perceived glory of their homeland is what motivates the Emperor's Blade, but like with Old Isin, the truth behind it is shaky at best.

We also have the contrast between the retired veteran at Pine Valley  and Grand Duke Vanya. While talking to Witte, the veteran cuts off one of his own fingers, claiming that the scars he has suffered in Ursus's wars, once considered symbols of his glory and honor, were ultimately meaningless, and he wants this self-inflicted wound to be his only legacy to Ursus. At the same time, the Grand Duke is postulating about how the seeds he had sown in the winter would give birth to beautiful flowers. Even though his actions and the crimes he committed never bore fruition, he is convinced even in death that Ursus's soil will bloom.

The issue of a real or imagined homeland, and its loss, is also  shared by the Sarkaz as a whole not only in this story but in the main story and many other events. It's even arguable that Rhodes Island's mission to help the Infected was originally inherited from Babel's goal of establishing a stable homeland for the Sarkaz. After all, as pointed  out in many places, the Infected and Sarkaz share much of the same discrimination.

Sarkaz Mercenary: Home...? How could us devils... us Infected possibly have one... Kal'tsit: The Sarkaz have tried to rebuild 'Kazdel', their home for centuries, though they have never succeeded. Everyone has a different idea as to what the term 'homeland' means, but as it stands right now,  Kazdel is perhaps as close as you can get to the term's original meaning.

And in Twilight of Wolumonde:

Armed Infected: We’re going home? To what home?

Mudrock: Kazdel. There may be no place for Sarkaz outside of Kazdel.  But in Kazdel, there is a place for you. Not because of tolerance. But because there is... nothing there. Kazdel... is where the homeless go. A land of rootless people.

So what does all this have to do with Kal'tsit?

In the ending cutscene, Passenger asks Kal'tsit whether this "Rhodes  Island" is yet another passing persona to be used to accomplish a goal and discarded when it's complete. Like the persona of the Trusted  Advisor, or the Servant, or the Laterano Cleric, will she abandon Rhodes  Island as well? Kal'tsit initially puts up a front saying he has no  right to ask, then bluffs about having thousands of answers, but is pushed by Passenger saying he'll even accept a lie. In one of the only times we get to see Kal'tsit faltering, she actually has no answer to this.

Unlike the other characters we see throughout the story, Kal'tsit has no homeland. No matter how fake or illusory it is, Old Isin and the Royal Guard have something to believe about a place where they can belong. The nobles in Victoria, as incompetent as they appear from the outside, are dedicated to defending the peace of their home despite having no ruler. Even the ostracized Sarkaz can ultimately go back to Kazdel, as unpleasant as that might be. But while Kal'tsit wanders the earth to keep the homelands of others from falling into chaos, she has no homeland of her own to go back to.

In one of the trailers for Chapter 9, we hear a recording from Theresa, addressed to Kal'tsit: "I hope this Rhodes Island can be a place to call home, a place you can always return to."

#arknights #arknights spoilers #kal'tsit