★ NO STRINGS ATTACHED! ★
CHAPTER FOUR: Canary in a Coalmine
★ YANDERE PLATONIC! AVENTURINE x SISTER! READER ★
GENDER: Fem FANDOM: Honkai Star Rail NOTE: Fourth!! I originally planned for this to be one chapter before realising there was too much planned, then I decided to split it up. There was just too much!! So I'll have to continue the rest in part five lol. I was up to like three last night finishing this thing off so I hope you enjoy!! TAGS/CW: Canon-typical Slavery, Aventurine is a Smoker, Aventurine is ALSO not mentally well, Capitalism, Implied SA during slavery, Racism against Avgins, Reader is a Stellaron Hunter, Body Horror, Everything that usually comes with a Yandere Fic. Etc, Etc.
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"So this is what happened to Sigonia after all these years. I don't know what to say."
Her voice was drier than the desert in front of her, choked, like a snake constricting her neck.
The shivering chill of goosebumps wasn't enough to save her from the scorching temperatures of Sigonia. Sweat dripped skin, she sighed. It was eerie, really, as if the memories lay behind a veil of deja vu. [F/N] had only vague recollections of the planet, at least of the barrens, where her tribe had been exiled to.
Her family didn't choose to live or die there, but a lump formed in her throat regardless. Returning here to find her home planet, her birthplace, turned into this?
A large, factorial complex had submerged the horizon, swallowing everything in sight. Warehouses, assembly lines, and highways in all directions stemming into the centre. Thick, charcoal smog polluted the air, alongside a kerosene taste on the tongue.
She shuddered as she looked down on the complex from a rocky ledge, her eyes narrowing, tasting something even more bitter as she spotted a triangular logo on one of the warehouses.
"According to my research, after the IPC dug up all the resources they could from Sigonia-IV's desert, they began turning the place into a robot manufacturing plant." Silver Wolf stood beside her, idly chewing a wad of gum. "You know those big, hulking mechs their soldiers use? Yeah, you'll see a lot of them here."
It was hard to stomach, seeing the ant-like figures of employees swarm the place like insects. She could hear impossibly loud whirring invade her ears like the buzz of flies.
"The nerve." [F/N] hissed as she took a step forward. "How could they—"
"Hey—!"
Silver Wolf lunged forward, grabbing her arm. The other girl looked back, seething as she heard her reasoning.
"If you walk in there, you'll be surrounded by countless IPC personnel who are geared more than any of us hunters! You'll get taken down before you even reach the first boss!" Silver Wolf snapped, tugging her back into her spot. "I know what they did to you; the IPC are a bunch of no-good villains— But you can't fight them, not like that."
[F/N] shook off her arm, backing down from the cliff face. She tried not to show the slight redness in her eyes, or the way her fingers shook when they curled.
Or the way her voice warbled when she tried to keep it together.
"Look at what they did." [F/N] uttered. "They kicked us out of our own land, left us to starve and dehydrate in the desert, and eventually, finally, abandoned us all to get slaughtered. They waited until we were all dead to plunder what little we had left from our hot, open graves, only to turn it into another war factory in the cosmos—"
Her own hand clasped over her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut like second nature. She felt a hand reach out, back onto her arm— Not to restrict or restrain— But to simply squeeze. It was appreciated, truly, it was, but in that moment she couldn't stop.
"They think they're untouchable, that their blood is blue." [F/N] scoffed. "I need a glass of water. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to come here, forget it."
Wiping the snot off her nose, [F/N] stormed away from the ledge, heading back to the discreet settlement where their ship had landed. Silver Wolf lingered on the cliff, spitting out her gum as she watched her go.
She wondered why Blade and Kafka ever let her return here, when they knew better than her where she came from.
To kill a kingpin, it was like searching for daisies in a desert, or expecting a clock to strike thirteen. It was stupid, even childish. [F/N] didn't care; the odds didn't scare her, in a gamble both ambitious and audacious.
"A board member, a department head— Hell, even a Stoneheart— I don't care." She muttered to herself. "None of them are invincible."
✦〘║♠♣♥♦║〙✦
The last hour went by in a blur of tears and embracing.
It was smothering. Kakavasha squeezed her so tight— he had such surprising strength. The last time they had seen each other, he was nothing but skin and bones. He had shaken when he walked, trembled at the slightest breeze. Her memories were so distant, yet the feeling of clinging onto his thin, skeletal wrists remained vivid.
"K-Kakavasha— I can't breathe—"
"Oh— There you go."
She could feel the hidden muscle underneath his arms. He was healthier, brighter, with hair that shone instead of sagged. He smelt like sugar instead of sweat. Wore thick, furry hides around his shoulders, and when he smiled, his teeth had no cavities.
But that number on his neck remained. Glimpses of marred skin from under his shirt.
Kakavasha didn't look like a corpse; he wasn't a corpse; he was alive, breathing, his beating heart still pumping blood. [F/N]'s face was wet, the whites of her eyes an angry, irritated red, as she hid her face in his shoulder.
She couldn't think; she didn't know what to think.
"Dear friends, I hope you both are alright!" A rich, jovial voice sang. "It is by Idrila's grace that I found you alive!"
Argenti, Knight of Beauty, had introduced himself mid-reunion, assisting their escape from the deeper dreamscape. He was beautiful, yet odd to look at, as he stood in a full set of armour amidst aristocrats in suits and cocktail dresses.
And even stranger in the dim alley beside a nightclub, stationed beside a trash canister.
"Thank you, Argenti—" [F/N] wiped her nose on the tissue Kakavasha lent her. "I appreciate it so much. Seriously— Really."
"Here, leave us be." Kakavasha pulled off a jewelled, diamond ring from his finger, shoving it into Argenti's hand. "For the trouble, friend. Go."
The knight tried to return the ring, insisting on needing no reward, but Kakavasha adamantly told him to keep it— As an offering to Idrila, he said. Argenti soon departed, his armour clinking as he left the scene with the ring dutifully clutched in his palm.
Kakavasha snapped back to her, a wide, beaming smile on his face.
"You're alive." He said, swallowing down his excitement. "You're actually alive."
Her brother looked ecstatic. His fingers dug into her shoulder, as if confirming to himself that yes, this was real, this was happening.
"I'm breathing, yes—" [F/N] stammered, holding his shoulders. "But you— I thought you—"
"Shh—!" Kakavasha cut her off, glancing towards the entrance of the alleyway and the people roaming past. "We shouldn't talk out in the open like this. Come on, let's catch up inside, privately, alright? Your legs must be killing you, let's sit down."
"Oh? Okay, yeah— If you want." She sputtered.
Kakavasha laid a hand on her back, guiding her out of the alleyway and towards the club. Cirque Céleste, framed with gold, deco lettering was ingrained on the building. [F/N] hadn't been to this part of Penacony, way below the surface of the shopping district.
There was a line of people going out the door, waiting to get in to what looked to be a nightclub. Kakavasha's hand retracted at the sight of the patrons, hesitantly shoving it in his pocket instead.
"Isn't this a nightclub—? 'Vasha, you know these places are spendy to get into, right? And we won't get an inch of privacy…!" [F/N] whispered to him as they skipped the line of leering eyes, straight towards the bouncer.
He hid his laugh in his hand.
"I bought the membership fee for the exclusive section before landing in Penacony; privacy is the least that I can afford," Kakavasha said as they approached the doorman.
She didn't have time to question it as they got to the front of the line.
The bouncer was a large, bull-necked strongman. He didn't seem ruffled that Kakavasha skipped the line, despite the loud protest from the patrons. There was even a hint of recognition in his eyes, a crease forming on his forehead.
Kakavasha raised his phone, displaying a barcode.
"Top floor, table thirty-one." The doorman said, not bothering to scan it. "But that one doesn't quite…"
His eyes turned to [F/N], looking at her wrinkled clothes, her dishevelled hair, the imperfections on her face— Then to the other patrons who looked fresh out of a magazine. [F/N] frowned.
"She's an associate," Kakavasha responded.
He pushed [F/N] forward, giving no more mind to the doorman as they headed towards the entrance. They weren't stopped. Not by the security or the slight turning in [F/N]'s stomach as she heard their words.
Despite the sense that she was a sparrow amidst serpents, [F/N] held her head high as they went inside.
✦〘║♠♣♥♦║〙✦
"Excuse me— Sorry!"
Firefly nearly tripped up the stairs, pushing past a couple that nearly spilled their shots. She wiped her face, briefly glancing over her shoulder before using it to bust open the door.
She found herself skidding into a heady, midnight lounge— Hit with the thick odour of smoke and liquor. It was loud, really loud, finding herself swept away by a crowd that was almost carnivorous in nature. They obeyed the music— Some kind of electronic jazz, maybe?
Gulping the polluted air, she tapped a piece on her ear.
"Please tell me you know where she is— I can barely move around here, let alone see—" Even if she stood on her toes, Firefly wouldn't be able to peek over any heads. Instead, resorting to snaking through the gaps.
She could hear furious typing on the other line.
"Her traces resurfaced a while ago, and I can tell she's in this building, but I'm still working on pinpointing the exacts." Silver Wolf grumbled. "Just keep your head down and try to avoid security; you don't want to be recognized. It was hard enough getting you in here."
"I don't know, Silver Wolf, why would Peahen be in a nightclub? Could you imagine it?" Firefly pushed through the crowd.
"The traces speak for themself." The typing stopped. "Speaking of which…"
Firefly snapped her head to the stairwell, hearing the popping of firecrackers. Bottle service. A miniature parade of girls in burlesque carried champagne bottles over their heads, cheering as the crowd made way for them. Firefly crinkled her nose at the exhibit.
But her eyes roved over the performers and their pearled hosiery, then to the tall, feathered headdresses.
She spotted one in particular, one of the girls strutting at the back, dolled in provocative scarlet.
"Ah— What are you doing..!?"
Firefly grabbed her arm, calmly yet firmly pulling her away from the parade like a frazzled coworker— Ignoring the way she lightly struggled against her hold. The crowd couldn't care less, too focused on the way the corks popped.
The dancer was shoved against the balcony, her eyes widening as she stared at the humongous drop to the discotheque below.
"Hey— Hey!" Her voice began to shake, her bare back pressed against the metal railing. "Let me go— I don't know what kind of problem you have with me, but please— If this is about your experience here, don't take it out on me; go speak to my manager!"
Firefly grabbed her arms tighter, nudging her forward.
"Please— Don't drop me!" She cried, her face twisting grotesquely.
"You can stop pretending; you're not fooling me." Firefly cut in, shaking her slightly. "Give it up!"
Her weeping paused, like a remote had been clicked. Firefly stepped back, watching the woman, whose eyes were previously the colour of rose stems bloom into a bloody flower. Her bottle blonde hair began to darken; the shapes of her face started to shift.
Until a familiar, cheeky pout came into view.
"Oh… You don't know how to let a girl have fun, do you?" Sparkle whined, still dressed in her feathered ensemble, soaking in body glitter. "Also, make it quick; I'm on the job, you know."
"This isn't funny, Sparkle, we need to know where Peahen is. She disappeared a few hours ago, almost right before that whole commotion caused by him." It came out loud, worried; Firefly knew when she expressed it.
Sparkle sighed.
"Is this about that announcement earlier? The light-show with chips falling from the sky?" She mused. "It's the gossip of the night! Ah, shame it was just a test run for the upcoming Charmony Festival…"
Her shoulder was grabbed once more; Sparkle looked up to see Firefly, her face contorted into something very unlike her. They didn't know each other well, only in passing, but the softness on her features was nowhere to be seen.
Nor was the kindness in her voice.
"Kafka paid you good money to assist us in Penacony," Firefly leaned in, keeping her voice between them. "I know that you're a Masked Fool, but you've stuck to your word every time you've worked with us before. You agreed, you were paid, so why now?"
"Money, money, money! I don't care about money!" Sparkle cried. "I never have! It's not why I'm here in Penacony."
"Then tell me the reason." Firefly pleaded.
"Because isn't it thrilling to watch the IPC's most wanted criminals scramble like mice in the claws of Penacony? Isn't inciting chaos enough of a reason for you?" Sparkle grinned, leaning in closer.
"No. I don't believe that for a second." Firefly said. "Not when I know how you look at her."
Firefly was shoved backwards, stumbling to catch her footing. Sparkle freed herself, stepping away from the balcony. She dusted off the embroidery and swept the strands of her hair back into place, and turned her back.
"I know Little Wolfie is listening, give her my greetings, will you?" Sparkle spoke. "Oh, and since she's working so hard— How about you look past the velvet rope over there? I doubt the strongmen would let a vagrant like you in, considering it's an exclusive lounge, but maybe you could get a peek behind those doors."
And in a flash of strobelight, her hair became blonde, and she looked back with catnip eyes. She smiled, something toothy, sultry, before dissolving into the crowd with a shake of her tail feathers.
✦〘║♠♣♥♦║〙✦
"Bottles for the table? I didn't order any yet. Must be a gift from the manager, how kind of him."
Compared to the ravenous carnival outside, the lounge could be called calm. Serene, even.
Almost. As the smell of smoke and sandalwood drifted in the air, [F/N] bounced her leg up and down, leaning against the cool mahogany of the table. Warm, sultry. The room was washed in a moody twilight, broken only by the hooded low-lamps fixed to the walls.
She sat in a velvet alcove. It was surreal, tasting the whiskey in the air, watching her brother observe a bottle of burgundy brought over by women in burlesque. [F/N] cringed, recalling the firecrackers and feathers alike.
This couldn't be happening, right? A bead of sweat dripped down her brow.
Peering out the alcove, she spotted the silhouettes of other clients, some at their booths, others at the bar. It was so dark, she couldn't see the details from afar. Yet the gems around their wrists gleamed like the stars.
Her leg bounced faster. She couldn't see their hands, their faces, where their eyes were leading or lingering.
Spotting a head turn in her direction, [F/N] quickly crammed herself into the booth.
"The selection here is dreadful compared to my usual place, barely any variations on whiskey…" Kakavasha muttered, glancing at the menu. "Hey, why so tense? Have you found anything to your liking yet?"
Tossing the menu on the table, Kakavasha sat adjacent to her, reaching out to hold her spare hand as she flicked through the menu. She felt the cold silver of his rings. [F/N]'s eyes dragged down the list, the numbers making her wince.
Spotting the outline of his smile, she gave one in return.
"Sorry, I'm not really used to nightclubs; I'm admittedly a bit of a shut-in." She spoke, squeezing his hand as she set down the menu. "The food looks good but, uhm, I'll skip. I'm not really hungry."
"Not hungry, after what happened in the past few hours? Don't worry about the price, tab is on me." He hummed. "You know what— If you're unable to decide, then how about I order a plate of everything for you to sample?"
"No, no—" Oh, how dearly she needed a drink. "I'll have the hot ribs and a salad. Don't need to do that. It's okay."
Soon enough, she found herself gulping at the rim of a snifter glass. Citrus, strong. The taste of burgundy didn't matter, nor was the fact that she was drinking wine in a nightclub. But as she heard the snapping of her brother's fingers, a waiter bolting to the booth, [F/N] finally grasped the situation.
The attendant jotted down their orders on his notepad before scurrying off into the dark. [F/N] set down her glass.
Her smile faded into a frown, her words withering into a mere whisper.
"…We're not here for the food; we really need to talk, 'Vasha."
Like a card had flipped, it became difficult to read his face. A poker face belonging to a champion. The moment simmered, and she found that her leg began to bounce again, slowly, subtly.
"It sounds so good to hear you call me that again." Kakavasha sighed, breaking the silence. "I wanted to wait until after we ate to get down to business. But I agree. I don't think I can wait anymore either."
"Good. That's good." [F/N] shook her head slowly. "Ah, where do I even begin…"
Abruptly, her hand was gripped tighter.
"I'll start." Kakavasha asserted, leaning further onto the table. "Let's begin with where you were for the past thirteen years. You may not be aware, but I invested quite the inordinate sum of credits into tracking where you went after that man took you from me. The men I hired were aces in their field, yet for years they couldn't find a single trace, but when I finally got a winning lead…"
His voice turned bitter, sour, unsavoury on the face.
"I found that the entire planet had been massacred, and its sun devoured. The survivors were few, countable on my hands, and not a single one of them was you."
Her knee hit the table. It jerked, tipping over her wine glass and spilling a bloody stain across the table. 'Shit,' she bleated, scrambling to gather napkins to try and dry the stain. Kakavasha watched, passing her a tissue or two when she needed it.
"I'm sorry— I wasn't paying attention." She apologized, setting her glass straight.
Hand over her mouth, [F/N] sat down, feeling the air crackle, hair struck up on her nape.
"…After I was taken away, I was sold to another slaver within the Yvanna Chain." She admitted, her hand raising towards her neck. "After the Destruction tore through the place, I didn't think I would survive. But I did. I got out."
Beneath the table, she could hear the rhythmic thumping of his foot. Constant, consistent. Her hand snaked around where her barcode was hidden, clamping down.
But Kakavasha was wise to the movement.
"Were you branded?" He asked quietly, his eyes fixated on her hand.
"Yeah." She answered in the same breath. "Soon as I got there."
"Let me see."
Kakavasha didn't wait for the words to leave his lips, having already slid out of the booth. He tossed his shades onto the table— Grumbling that 'he can't see for shit in this place' before cramming himself into the seat beside her.
Almost ashamed, she couldn't look at him as she tugged down her collar, revealing the barcode.
"Damnit." He hissed, leaning in to read the thirteen followed by a barcode on her neck. He rested his hand on her shoulder, sneering at the lettering. "This shouldn't have happened. If only that bastard—"
Letting out a shudder, his eyes fluttered shut, as if trying not to show his hand.
"Why didn't you contact me?" Kakavasha spoke, his voice levelled once more, calm, collected. "I don't understand. You could've contacted my assistants, made a phone call or two— You could've even gone through my social media and I would've found out."
"Contact you? 'Vasha, I thought you were dead—" [F/N] reasoned. I was told you were dead, Blade and Kafka gave me your rags, they confirmed you were gone. They must've been unaware— It went unsaid.
"You thought that I was dead." Kakavasha deadpanned, noticing the tightness around her eyes. "I'm sorry to say, but that's impossible. My face is practically everywhere. Advertisements, news sites, holograms, products— The works. It's simply impossible."
"What? What do you mean 'your face is practically everywhere,' I don't understand." She tried to smile like this was some kind of joke, but he didn't reciprocate.
It faltered as her eyes looked him up and down, the thick fur of his coat to the silver on his fingers, the golden watch around his wrist. Or to the expensive shades he threw onto the table, gold-rimmed, like the buttons of his waistcoat.
Then, over his shoulder, to the very location they dined at. How he had skipped the line to get in.
Slowly, her smile fell.
"Kakavasha," Her voice was delicate, pleading. "Tell me what you mean by that."
"You actually don't know?" He frowned.
"What don't I know?" Her voice shook as she responded. "I don't— I don't have a phone. When I said I was a shut-in, I meant it."
"Pardon me."
They turned to look outside the booth, spotting the sheepish figure of the waiter, looking back at them with plates balanced in his palms. The siblings looked back at each other, an air of silence between them, before Kakavasha slipped out of the booth and sat back at his seat.
Silence as the waiter laid the platters; neither of them spoke a thing until he departed.
"A shut-in, really." Kakavasha swirled the whiskey in his glass, taking a long sip. "Well, this is unexpected."
He set it down, ice chiming, the liquor was a bold, dedicated amber.
Kakavasha clasped his hands, lowering his brow.
"I'm a Senior Manager working in the IPC's Strategic Investment Department. I wield the Cornerstone 'Aventurine of Stratagems.' He explained.
"No. No, you're not."
Idle, it was the best way to describe her tone. The only way, as if she was responding to a question she hadn't quite tuned into, if it wasn't important. Kakavasha just shrugged, like he thought the same way.
"Is it that hard to believe that your brother has made it big? That I'm no longer in rags?" He asked, scrutinizing her face.
"You can't be— Kakavasha, you can't be a Stoneheart. That's not funny." She argued.
"That's because I'm not joking." He responded. "By the way, you should refer to me as Aventurine from now on when we're out in public. It's for my own discretion."
[F/N] banged her fist on the table.
"I said it isn't funny! Kakavasha, I'm being serious." She begged. "Please. If you don't want to tell me— That's okay, but don't lie to me like that."
A long, heavy sigh escaped his nose. His hands hooked together tightly as he leaned back on the tender velvet. His head tipped upwards, Kakavasha glanced out the booth to the shadows by the bar, then to her.
His face was as empty as a canvas as he slipped off his fur coat. [F/N] watched, sweating, her ears ringing as he lifted his hands towards the gilded buttons of his waistcoat.
"Kakavasha—" She tried to get his attention. "Kakavasha, what are you doing?"
One after the other, they slipped away. His face didn't twitch, didn't twist— Nothing. Not even as he moved onto the tailored, viridian button-down. He stopped just below his chest, before tugging open the fabric.
"Oh— What the fuck is that..?!"
Just to the slight left of his chest, where the heart-cutout failed to capture, was a thick, garish scar.
Could it even be called a scar? It looked like a wound, one that went deep, recessing past blackened skin and wry muscle to the very core of the body. It was large, struck across his entire left pectoral.
[F/N] recoiled, feeling an instinctual need to look away. But she couldn't. A sense of dread crawled up her spine as she stared into the pit of that wound.
"While it isn't known to the general public, to become a Stoneheart, Diamond demands absolute loyalty. A show of commitment." Kakavasha spoke. "And to receive a piece of the Amber Lord's own body, as well as just a tenth of an Emanator's power, a sacrifice of equal trade must be made."
Oh.
Her hand sprang to the table, holding on to it for balance. [F/N] wanted to let out a loud bark of laughter, wipe away a tear as she tried to make sense of that absurd abyss— But instead she just guffawed. Kakavasha didn't move a lip.
Deep within, she spotted flecks of green, lustrous, lingering deep within that abyss.
Her voice was shrill as her lips twisted into a smile.
"I need to go freshen up. Give me a few minutes."
