It's been several long months of waiting, we hope everyone is excited!
Individual prompts will be posted daily for the next 10 DAYS [including today]. This does include a FREE DAY for anyone unaware.
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Reminder that for July as a whole everyone is free to post and we will work to reblog it all. Any posting after July is accepted as well but no garentee for reblogs.
There is, unfortunately, no Ao3 collection this year, nor an art folder.
With that said, have fun! We can't wait to see what you all create!!! ❤️
☆ in which rimbaud never saw verlaine as a human and has her wrapped around her finger.
☆ wordcount: 4.2k
☆ content/warnings: fem!rimlaine - DD:DNE (nothing graphic but i'm adding it just in case) - ANGST - canon divergence - bad ending - non-explicit rape - sexual harassment - unhealthy relationship - manipulation and gaslighting - manipulative!rimbaud - verlaine has ptsd - i forgot they met as teenagers when i wrote this. so technically there's underage sex mentioned
☆ title from 'It’s Languorous Ecstasy' by Paul Verlaine
☆ masterlist ☆ ao3 post☆
☆ a/n: this is for all my dark fiction enjoyers
𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀, 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂, 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙎 𝘼𝙂𝘼𝙄𝙉
The first thing Black 12 saw when she was born was her hands covered in blood, the second was a woman cradling her face. Gentle, gloved, hands, and eyes carrying a softness she's never seen before, something she didn't know existed. She's a machine, a weapon made for killing. She's not human, that's what has been engraved into each line of code forming her system. That's how her master created her.
But her master is dead, Black 12 quickly learns. It's the first thing she did when she was freed from his control, the woman tells her, she also asks her name. Black 12 can't answer; she's a weapon, weapons don't have name. So the woman names her Paule Verlaine and introduces herself as Arthurine Rimbaud. She's here to help, she promises, she'll brings her home. And Black 12's Paule's body follows her, and Black 12's Paule's broken mind latches on to her, like a kitten seeing a human and mistaking it for its mother. If her master's dead, then Arthurine is the one she must obey.
Home turns out to be the headquarters of the European intelligence agency. She's examined, mind, body, and soul, by doctors and officers who can't figure out how she's alive. The results of the tests prove that she's conscious or, as they put it, that she's human. She doesn't believe a word they say. She kills two of the exterminators. As she's breaking the arms of the third, Arthurine stops her. Everything has been happening under her watchful gaze, from the moment Paule was born she's been starring at her. Paule is left banging on yellowish translucent walls; it's Pan's rough grip that stops her. Her body falls limp on the floor.
When she wakes up, she explains what happened, at Arthurine's demand. She swears she's felt those hands. That body was real, she was awake.
"You just escaped something traumatic, your mind must be playing tricks."
She quickly learns that this mind of her is not trustworthy.
—☆—
Paule never meant to become a secret agent. It happened fast, perhaps even faster than when her previous master was giving her orders. One moment the president of the intelligence agency was explaining how useful she would be, another Arthurine was telling her how happy she would be if they were partners, the next Paule accepts to join them. If Arthurine is her master, then she must obeys. And if Arthurine wants her by her side, then she must stay. It doesn't matter that she doesn't want to be a secret agent, her master's will matters more than hers.
This decision is followed by months of training. She's good, but not good enough yet. She's sloppy. Her kills aren't clean enough. She should be able to break every bone in a body without anything piercing the skin. Her practice dummies are people who know too much, prisoners with a life-sentence, or political enemies that can't see the light of day again. They all beg for their life, but Paule's code can't register pleas. It makes killing easier. She kills all of them. A cleaning crew dispose of what's left behind. On some days, Arthurine cups her cheek and tells her she's making wonderful progress. On other, she stays still at the other side of the training room and barks that she'll never be allowed on actual missions at this rate. When that happens, Paule gets up and ask for another try. On some days, Arthurine brings a new prisoner into the room. On others, she snaps that there's nothing left, she's lost her last chance until the other incompetents finish their own jobs. When that happens, Paule apologizes, head and shoulders lowered, she promises to be better, to be enough. On some days, Arthurine coos with her hand cupping her cheek because she knows she's doing her best, she just needs to be harsh during her training to make sure she doesn't get herself killed in her missions (You understand, don't you? I'm doing this for you.). On others, the only thing Paule is allowed is a sharp glare.
Arthurine never takes her eyes off of her. No matter how angry she is. She doesn't leave Paule. She doesn't stop looking at her.
The only time Paule spends alone is when she has to shower or use the restroom. Even then, Arthurine insists she doesn't have to lock the door. To be partners they have to fully trust each others. When Arthurine locks the door, it's because she's learned it from a very young age and now that she's grown she struggles to break that habit. It has nothing to do with Paule, she trusts her with every part of her being. Arthurine never follows her in the bathroom — she still deserves some privacy, especially when she's naked — but it never meant she wasn't alone.
It doesn't matter the time of day, nor how well she's done in training, when she enters the bathroom she knows she'll see Pan in there. Sometimes behind her in the mirror, sometimes facing her in the shower. Sometimes he waits for her to open the curtain after she's showered, sometimes he's already here when she opens the bathroom door. Every time he disappears right after she called for help. Arthurine has never seen him, but Paule knows he's real. She's hit him, she's felt his hand on her body. It can't be an hallucination — schizophrenia, or PTSD, or whatever else. It can't be. She knows what she's seeing.
Today was a good day. Only one bone broke through the skin of her target, and she's even managed to land hits on Arthurine during sparring. Her master is proud of her, she's doing a lot of progress, maybe they can even open a wine bottle to celebrate her good work. It brings a light smile on her face that stays as they leave the training room, a smile that flatters when they enter their shared quarters and her master orders her to shower first.
She stares at the closed door. Pan might already be behind it. She hopes so. If he is, then Paule can be quick enough and prove Arthurine she isn't crazy. She quickly takes her clean clothes — she’d rather get this over with as soon as possible — and with a deep exhale she opens the bathroom door. It's empty. No one is waiting for her, not even in the shower. She stays in the middle of the room, frozen. If Pan isn't here yet, then that means he'll show up later and that's what she hates the most. He always comes when she's the most vulnerable, always touches when she can't reach to strike back.
"What are you waiting for?"
A voice pierces through her panic. It's Arthurine's. She waits, leaning against the door frame with her arms closed and her eyebrows drawn together. Paule looks back at her with panic in her eyes that she can't rid of, no mater how much her master keeps repeating her that she must learn to look strong. At the pathetic sight in front of her, of a weapon made for killing but unable to shower on her own without crying, Arthurine sighs.
"Nothing's going to happen to you."
"You say that everyday and yet-"
"And yet nothing happens. You're imagining it. It's not happening."
Paule clenches her jaw. If Arthurine's saying so, then it must be true. But no matter how hard she tries it just won't register itself in her code. Pan's hands feel more real than the air she breathes, there's no changing that.
"Would me showering with you help?" Arthurine asks out of the blue.
"But-"
"You can't stay like that any longer," she shrugs. "If Pan only shows up when you shower, I'll see him."
The reasoning makes sense, so Paule accepts. With a smile, Arthurine walks into the room and locks the door behind her. She begins undressing herself, like all of this is normal and suddenly privacy doesn't mater. She must be used to it, Paule concludes, she's been a soldier for years, maybe there was a time where she only had communal showers. Paule tries to not be too shy about it, but it's hard when her body is covered in disgusting burn scars that curl over her skin. It's the true form of her skill, a power too strong for her body to handle. She hates that in-between human and weapon. She's too much of a weapon for a human body; she's too human to be a fully-functioning weapon.
"Hey…"
Fingers trail over a scar on her shoulder. But when she turns around, Pan isn't here. Just Arthurine. Just her master. The shower is running, she doesn't remember turning it on.
"It's just me. Come on, I'm freezing."
"The shower is too small, we can't go at the same time."
"I need help washing my hair."
"Oh."
And Paule follows, because her master needs her and she must obey her master.
The shower is in fact too small; their bodies have to be pressed together to fit. But Arthurine's touch are gentle, soft. She's not like Pan. She helps Paule wash her back, she's careful with the scar, and she never let her eyes leave her. Nor her hands. Arthurine is always touching her — because she doesn't know where else to put her hands, she says, but Paule's hands are fine behind her back. By the time they're done rinsing the soap, she has her arms wrapped around Paule's neck.
"You know," she starts in a purr, "it's been a year since I found you."
"It has?"
"Hm-hm," she nods. "I guess it's kind of like your birthday."
"I'm not one year old."
She rolls her eyes, "Semantics. We should celebrate."
"I'm not interested."
"But it's tradition! Everyone celebrates their birthday."
"You don't."
"My birthday is classified information."
As she speaks, Arthurine's hand cups her scarred cheek. The words blur together as she leans into the touch. Perhaps she should celebrate her birthday, Arthurine already promised they'd open a bottle of wine anyways. A couple of hours of relaxing won't kill her. Can she even get drunk? She's never been sick, but maybe she can get drunk if she tries hard enough. She knows it's something humans do a lot, giving it a try might answer some of her questions. So she accepts.
After their shower, Arthurine changes into a tank top and a pair of shorts, which Paule doesn't understand. She's always complaining that it's too cold, surely showing so much skin can't help. But her master shuts her questions by saying alcohol will warm her up.
And it does. After two full glasses, Arthurine stops complaining about the cold, she even insists it's getting hot in the room. Paule doesn't think so, even after drinking the same amount of wine. She doesn't feel warm, nor dizzy, nor anything she knows should happen when you get drunk. Instead, she's fully conscious and too busy wondering how inhuman her body must be to notice Arthurine getting closer to her. Her cheeks are rosy, damp hair clings to her forehead; a strap of her top has fallen down her shoulder and revealed far more cleavage than Paule is comfortable looking at. She wants to push her away, but Arthurine is her master, she doesn't want to disobey her — and when her master leans forward to cup her cheeks, she understands she must stay here.
"Do you want your birthday gift?" she whispers against her face. Paule nods, she's not exactly sure what else she's supposed to do. "Close your eyes."
And she obeys, because it's her master's orders.
She fears Pan pulling her away now that she's vulnerable, but she doesn't feel any rough hands. Only soft lips against hers, in a chaste kiss that makes her brain shut down for a second. Silence is short-lived, questions return to ask her if she should be enjoying it, and why she can't, and why Arthurine is doing this to her when their relationship is meant to be professional. It must only be the alcohol. Maybe she'll forget it in the morning and everything will return to normal.
—☆—
It doesn't.
Many other months pass, and Paule is finally done with her training. She can go on missions, with Arthurine as her partner — it's what the official papers say, the truth is Arthurine is still her master, she gives orders and Paule executes. She's a perfect soldier now, everyone praises her skills. Especially Arthurine.
They've grown… closer, over the past months. Paule isn't sure how to describe it. Sometimes they hug. Arthurine kisses her good night before going to bed. They shower together when Paule is too scared to enter the bathroom alone — Pan is still there every time she's alone, but some days her master insists she's being too needy, so she has to deal with him. One day her master shot one of her colleagues who expressed wanting 'a piece of that blonde chick of yours'. Paule has killed anyone trying to hurt Arthurine. She can’t understand what their relationship is, because as much as Arthurine claim she’s not a machine, she has merely two years of life as a human — spent as a soldier, disconnected from human civilization.
"It's your birthday today," Arthurine comments as they're getting ready for the night, in a safehouse that only has one bed.
Paule freezes for a second, before resuming getting their weapons ready for the next day. They need to leave early after all. She has her back to Arthurine but she can hear her getting closer.
"I didn't keep track of it."
"You should. Everyone keeps track of their birthdays."
"Well, I'm not celebrating it. So it would be a waste of time."
"Too bad, I had the perfect gift to celebrate."
Her words are accompanied with cold arms circling her waist, and a body pressing against her. A naked body, she notes. She tenses; she might not know much about humans, but she's not clueless either. When you work as a spy, you have to understand human behaviors, and Arthurine is not exactly being subtle.
"You want to have sex," she comments, as a simple matter of fact.
Whispering against her ear, Arthurine answers: "It's more than time, don't you think?"
Paule lets go of the weapons she was holding to cover Arthurine's freezing hands under her shirt with hers. "The only touch I've felt is when Pan-"
Arthurine sighs, "Paule, those hands aren't real. You're imagining them."
"I don't. I can't dream, I'm not hum-"
"Will you stop with that?" She lets go of her. Paule instantly mourns the touch. She turns around but Arthurine is already putting on a robe as she keeps ranting. "You are human. If you're not, that means I've spent years trying to fix a broken toy. Is that what you're implying? That I don't know what I'm doing?"
"No, of course not…" She puts her hands around Arthurine's waist, now her turn to hug her from behind. "I'm sorry," she mumbles against her shoulder. "I'm just… scared. I've never done it. And I want you to feel good, not just put up with me."
Arthurine turns around to cup her cheek, Paule leans into the touch. "I know that, and I don't care. I only want you." She pauses. "Will you? Let me have you?"
Paule nods and, just like that, she's being pushed onto the bed; Arthurine, naked again, crawls over her with a hungry smile on her face.
—☆—
After that, Arthurine says they’re dating. It's only logical, after all: they already do everything a couple do, the only thing left is putting a label on it. Paul trusts her master; she had absolutely no knowledge about relationships before being born. A machine doesn't need a partner, it's made to operate alone. Arthurine, on the contrary, insists she can only work with her other half.
Paule is that other half.
They’re glued to each other's hip in and outside their bedroom. Arthurine doesn't go on missions with anyone else anymore. Paule never even considered being with anyone but her master. They shower together everyday now, safe for the few times where Arthurine has meetings with the higher ups — Paule is not trusted with technical information, she only has to execute; it's easier that way.
The first time this happened, she waited until long into the night, sitting on the bed doing nothing but zoning out. She just wanted her master, her partner, to be back. But instead of smiling when she came home, Arthurine sighed. She's already doing so much, and with the war getting worse everyday, she's barely getting any rest anymore. Does Paule really think she has the energy to deal with her stupid fears after working all day?
No, she doesn't. Sorry, Paule should have thought about it. It won't happen again.
No, no — Arthurine cups Paule's cheek — it's fine. She knows how scary it must be to be alone. They'll shower together and then go to bed, with that work?
Yes, yes, of course.
But even if it's fine, Paule can't stand seeing her partner mad. So she showers alone when Arthurine can't be here. Every single time like he's never left, Pan is here to haunt her. And every single time, Arthurine comes home to Paule zoning out in bed, showered and changed, in comfortable pajamas, but unable to wash away the feelings of Pan's hand on her scarred skin. Some days, Arthurine ignores her until she's ready for bed. On others, she immediately hugs her and brushes away her stray tears. Rough hands are replaced by freezing ones. Paule can't help leaning into it. And once the cold touches her, it never leaves. Arthurine's body is all over hers. Over the months, Paule has learned to hold, to squeeze, to caress, to kiss and to suck. She's learned to enjoy it too; even if her body can't feel pleasure, she's more than happy to see her master enjoying herself. That's more than enough for her.
Then they fall asleep together, naked if they're too tired to clean up. And they wake up to a whole other day, side by side, where Pan hiding in the bathroom is an issue they don't have to think about until nightfall.
The higher ups praise their combined skills, as well as Paule's rapid progress. Together, they think, they have the power to change the war once and for all.
—☆—
Paule learned they were going to Japan when they were in the plane. She figures out why they were going to Japan when she's holding an unconscious, pale, underweight kid in her arms. Arthurine trusts her with them as she gathers all the documents the DGSS might want to look into. And Paule doesn't want to call her master stupid, but leaving her alone with a kid is a terrible idea. She can feel their power shimmering under their skin, just like their own; the smell of mixed chemicals make her dizzy, her grip tightens on the small body. She knows why they were in that tube, what Japan wanted to do with them, and what France plans to.
A weapon. Tied to the government, not a single individual. Or, if the project gives perfect results, a weapon that can't even think enough to choose its master. This child might not ever get the opportunity to be born like Paule was. They won't ever open their eyes and, for just a second, experience pure innocence — not knowing anything of the world but the warmth of the sun and the cold of the breeze against your skin, until your face is cupped by a savior promising you a home. And love. And everything you can ever dream of.
Who would that kid be entrusted with? Surely Arthurine can't take care of them on top of Paule. Maybe her workload would be reduced if Paule was the one in charge of the kid.
But then it would mean training the kid without ever letting them taste sunlight. She can't do that. She was born an adult, it was too late for her to have a normal life, but that kid is exactly that: a kid. If they're born far away from this lab, they can hope to grow up without ever knowing of it, or of France's plan to use their power. But Paule can't just send them away to a random orphanage and pray for the best, not with the dangerous power they carry; they need someone who understands to raise them.
"I'm done," Arthurine tells her without looking at her. "Let's go."
"No." Paule answers. Voice sharp, back straight, it takes everything for her to not curl up when Arthurine turns around with fatigue in her eyes. "We won't be bringing this kid back to France."
"And why would we not?"
"They deserve a normal life, far away from everything."
"His power alone could end the war, do you not understand this?"
"Stripping Japan of them — him — is enough. The war is almost over, we…" Because there isn't a single world where Paule would imagine herself without her partner. "We could leave, raise him in the countryside…. Give him a normal life where he won't have to know about their origins."
As she talks, her heartbeat speeds up. She has never made it an habit of talking back to Arthurine, especially not when it came to work. Direct orders are directs orders; they're not meant to be discussed. Paule is to bring this boy back to France and leave his fate into the higherups' hands. To hell with her personal feelings.
But, as she looks at this poor child, still soaked in the chemicals from the tube he was trapped into, everything Paule has learned disappears.
Arthurine rolls her eyes. "You're speaking nonsense. Let's go, before we get caught."
"If your plan is to go back to HQ. I won't follow you."
"My plan is to go back home, Paule. Let's go." Arthurine's tone is getting more irritated with each word.
"I said I won't."
She can't tell what pushed her to draw her gun, before she realizes what she's done it's aimed at her master and she can't go back.
"Paule…" Arthurine sighs, a mix between annoyance and anger. "You don't know what you're doing."
"This child deserves a life."
"He'll have one. Just like you did."
"Can't you realize how hard it is to live knowing you're not human?" she asks, a sob cracking in her voice. Of course she can't, no matter how much she pretends to, there'll always be a little something separating them. The same that make Arthurine unable to believe Paule when she says Pan is in the bathroom, or that make Paule see Arthurine as her master. "You can't force that onto a child."
"Paule…" This time, Arthurine sounds saddened. "You should have told me how bad you were feeling. Do you hear yourself? You're projecting, it's not healt-"
"I'm fine," she snaps. "Will you stop treating me like I'm insane when I'm the one who doesn't want to turn a child into a weapon?"
"I started off as a child and I turned out fine. So did you. Now come on, that's enough. We don't have much time left to leave."
"No!"
And her finger pulls the trigger. But, instead of hitting Arthurine, the bullet is caught by a body covered in a yellow glow. One she's so familiar with but looks so different outside of the bathroom.
Without any emotion crossing his face, like a puppet with its strings cut, Pan stares back at her, shielding Arthurine from any other attack.
No attack ever comes. Paule, with her limbs shaking and her breath stuck in her throat, is too busy watching the familiar glow of Arthurine's ability covering Pan to fight back. Everything is the same, from the clothes to the blood covering them, like he's been picked straight up from the field. Or from their bathroom.
"H… How..?"
Arthurine straightens up and, with her hands behind her back, walks around Pan to face her. Her eyes are cold, distant, gone is the warmth of her love replaced by harsh professionalism.
"My ability allows me to use one corpse at a time as a weapon," she explains, her eyes glued on Paule. "This one is getting old. If you try to run with this child, I'll have to use whatever means it takes to bring him back home. Do you understand?"
"But-" Her breathing is shallow, tears threaten to escape her eyes with her gaze going from Arthurine to Oan in quick succession. Did Arthurine not believe her because she's always known where Pan was meant to be? "Does that mean-"
"I asked you a question, Paule." Her voice is firm. "Do you understand?"
Paule takes a deep breath, a shaky one. She might be a stronger, but with an arm holding a child, and her mind coded to refuse hurting her master — not even counting the threat of Pan's hands falling on her — she has no chance of winning.
Arthurine cups her cheek, she's looking at her with a light smile over her lips.
"You know that, everything I've done, I've done it because I love you."
Paule nods weakly. "I love you too."
"Good. Now, enough with your nonsense. Let's go home."
Notes- was supposed to finish rendering these today but after starting stuff for artfight I kinda just knocked out 🥹, will try to finish this after the week tho
Extra images because I thought of wayyy to much drawings for this prompt and that’s why it took a lot outta me
Rimbaud- Forget me nots, Azaleas, white chrysanthemums
☆ in which verlaine and rimbaud drink together and rimbaud talks too much.
☆ wordcount: 1.4k
☆ content/warnings: FLUFF - ANGST - drunken confession - bad ending - is the love requited? you decide. - pre canon
☆ title from 'The Drunken Boat' by Arthur Rimbaud
☆ masterlist ☆ ao3 post ☆
☆ a/n: i decided the ending as i was writing it, and i decided they can't have happiness
𝙎𝙏𝙍𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙉 𝘼𝙇𝘾𝙊𝙃𝙊𝙇, 𝙑𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙉 𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙍𝙃𝙔𝙏𝙃𝙈𝙎
They don’t remember when Arthurine’s drink turned into her third, she’s pouring her fourth by the time Paule has realized the wine bottle is dangerously close to being empty.
“Maybe you should slow down a little,” Paule says from the end of the couch she’s sitting on.
Yet, she doesn’t make a move to take the wine glass in her hand. Arthurine just came back from a week long solo mission — her first one since Paule joined the DGSS — she deserves some rest; and, for her, resting means being sprawled on the couch of their shared living room with a glass of white wine in hand. Now that the alcohol has properly entered her system, she’s rambling about all the people she can’t stand, allies and enemies alike, from the teenager who tagged a government building to the leaders who refuse to sign a peace treaty. Paule has been listening to it all with an amused smile. She can’t get drunk — well, she could, but she has enough experience of not being in control of herself to last her a lifetime. She only indulges in a glass of wine, one her metabolism burns quickly, when Arthurine opens a bottle.
She takes a sip, her ears still focused on her partner whose rambling been going at it for so long they both have lost sense of time — she’s pretty sure Arthurine isn’t even aware of where she is anymore.
“I can’t wait for someone to humble Hugo,” she says with a groan.
“What did he do to you?”
“He’s so…” She makes large movements with her hands that don’t help her find the right words. “What has he even done?”
“You mean, outside of being the strongest among the Transcendents?” she scoffs.
“Debatable.”
She snorts. “You know, I’m starting to think you hate everyone you’ve ever worked with.”
To Paule’s surprise, a blush spreads on Arthurine’s cheeks, one much brighter than the one caused by alcohol. She mumbles something unintelligible.
“Hm?” Paule asks as she puts her now empty drink on the coffee table.
“Not everyone,” Arthurine repeats, this time louder, eyes focused on her fidgeting hands.
“Oh.”
Surprise took over her tone. Arthurine has never confessed any kind of romantic interest, for anyone at all. She’s vaguely mentioned a boyfriend she lost contact with when he got drafted and she had to fake her death to join the DGSS; but do teenage romances even count? Maybe it does, they can’t afford much connection with a lifestyle like theirs. Even the partnership they have is something unheard of in the DGSS, frowned upon by many, only accepted because they don’t trust a rogue killing machine to work alone. Paule knows it’s the reputation she has, they just don’t ever talk about it.
All that to say, whatever Arthurine’s feeling must be something buried so deep inside of her that only the alcohol can bring back to the surface, like waves bringing messages in bottles back to the shore.
Just as Paule wonders if she should pry, out of worry for her partner but also out of curiosity for the foreign feeling that is love, Arthurine takes another large sip of wine and her drunk mind gets the best of her. She throws her head back with a breathless laugh — her unfocused eyes shine with unshed tears, her wet lips glint under the golden light of the living room.
“She’s the most beautiful human I’ve ever met.”
Paule has so many questions from this sentence alone but decides to stay quiet and see where Arthurine will bring her.
“Not in a physical way. I mean, she’s so pretty… But she’s handsome too, in a way. I don’t understand how she does it! And her eyes are so…” She sighs dreamily. “I could get lost in them. I’ve been trying to understand what her eyes are saying for ages but she' doesn’t want to let me in. She doesn’t let anyone in, and I get it! With everything she’s gone through, she’s just protecting herself, but…” She groans. “Sometimes I just wish she’d listen and let me in a little! She deserves to know she’s so much more than a weapon for war…
“I don’t even know what she’ll do when the war will be over. Sometimes… You know, sometimes I think about retiring after the war. Even if we lose, I want to travel around the world and show her everything she’s been missing on. We’ve traveled a lot but it’s always been just government buildings and bombed places. She deserves to see all the beautiful things humanity has created. Maybe… I just think it would help her feel human…
“She keeps insisting she can’t be human, I’ve tried everything to convince her but she won’t listen,” she sighs. “I don’t get it, and I understand why she thinks that way! I’ve been a soldier for so long sometimes I forget who I am outside of my duties but I’ve always been aware of what I was doing. Even when I don’t feel like myself, I feel aware. It’s only with her that I feel alive.”
And Arthurine doesn’t stop talking. She talks about fighting side by side, braided hair, and scars she’s found beautiful since she’s first laid her eyes on them. Her babbling never stops, even for a well deserved deep breath, as if she weren’t speaking out loud but letting her thoughts spiral in the quiet of her mind before falling asleep.
And Paule? She wants to cover her own ears, rip them off if she must, anything it takes to make Arthurine shut up. She doesn’t want to hear anything about how beautiful she is, or the love she deserves, or having a quiet life of traveling together, or that god forsaken humanity Arthurine insists she carries. The scars curling around her skin burn, she wants to rip them off until she’s become something so disgusting no one will ever find beauty in her. She’d lock herself in the bathroom if she wasn’t frozen in place, asking herself so many questions she can’t say out loud at the risk of Arthurine waking up and realizing what just happened.
If Paule knew more of human relationships, she’d know how to react. Even better, she'd know what to expect. But because the DGSS teaches you how to infiltrate building and gather information, not falling in love, she doesn’t even know how she’s supposed to feel.
Arthurine, still clouded by her drunken bliss, looses her grip on her drink; Paule saves the glass from shattering with reflexes engraved so deep into her being she couldn’t ever get rid of them, even in a peaceful life traveling around the world. She puts the glass down next to hers as Arthurine is taken over by a wave of laughter. Her mouth is wide open, tears fall from the corner her closed eyes, all of her body is shaking from the strength of her blissful happiness. It would almost bring a smile to Paule’s face was she not painfully aware of the situation. She won’t be able to handle it a second longer.
“You should go to bed,” she says quietly, voice devoid of emotions. “It’s getting late.”
Arthurine's laughter dies down she stares at Paule with her head tilted like a curious cat. She’s being ignored though. Paule is far too busy focusing on getting her a glass of water and medication for the headache sge’ll be sporting tomorrow. A quick ‘good night’, no eye contact, and she’s retreating to her bedroom with long steps.
It’s only when her door clicks shut and she rests her head against the wood that she allows herself to rake a deep breath. She knows of state secrets that could make republics crumble, yet this is the heaviest information she ever carried. One thing she’s learned from humans is how difficult emotions can be, especially when you’re not supposed to feel them. How is one supposed to picture themself in a long-lasting relationship when they can’t even guarantee war won’t kill them before the end of the year?
She bets Arthurine — sober — reached the same conclusion and burried everything into her heart in hope peace would allow her to dig it back up. Paule will do just as much; she can’t afford to loose time on feelings. She and Arthurine are to prepare for a mission in Japan to retrieve an illegal weapon that could change the outcome of this war.
They’ll complete this mission, win the war, and only then will they think about love.
Hellooo dear Rimlaine fans of tumblr! The big week is starting today! For 10 days we will be posting Rimlaine stuff and I will post fanfics starting today.
