IM SO SORRY FOR BEING INCONSISTENT WITH THIS ACCOUNT, SUMMER MAKES MY MOTIVATION TAKE A NOSEDIVE
The Caretaker
(Akestor- “Saviour” “Healer” in Greek)
Akestor is a He/it. Sometimes a she/it outfits shown above correspond to current used pronouns
A king slowly turned by the growing amount of empathy and guilt. Its old. Old enough that it has lost count of the amount of souls its consumed. Both Averys’ and dereks’ alike. You can blame the Avery’s for this king’s sense of empathy.
The Caretaker doesnt care much for pronouns. It, He, gold, they, she, anything that comes to mind.
BULLET POINTED YAPS
* much older than most kings. Has taken many a avery as vessels prior to the most recent one
* something like a mental *break* (probably something to do with harbouring many a avery’s mind and personality and then seeing his derek die(on purpose))
* at this point is more avery than king
* ran from its own reality, created a new one (haven or somethign close to that) (the world itself is him. It may have a physical form now, buf its true scale is much much larger.)
* its old. And its powerful due to that.
* can be in multiple places at once. And can be summoned (both out loud, and just by thinking of it. You cant accidentally summon it.)
* when it was using avery’s body, it took very good care of his body. Fed and waters and kept active and healthy. It always planned to give it back, after all. And its rude to break something you’re borrowing.
* its gay. Very. Polyamory to The Maximum. Yes, if you have a derek/avery you can in-fact ship these guys. Actually i highly encourage it.
Notes on haven:
* people are allowed to come up with names for themselves. (Because when theres hundreds of you, you gotta have some way to differentiate yourself)
* theres more than just avery and dereks, sometimes it ends up taking entire worlds if its at risk. (Though its mostly avery’s and dereks)
* people aren’t required to help out or take jobs in The Cathedral, but quite a few do anyways. (See, some avery’s in medical feild, others in knight services with dereks, other dereks in blacksmithing jobs, ect)
* it is effectively a whole nation itself. It has its own money, though a majority of things are traded not sold. Definitely not capitalism, closer go socialism. Equity not equality.
* some dereks or averys are only visiting, or were temporarily taken. Vacation home, basically.
* effectively a wild life restoration centre. Catch and release some but others cant be reintroduced to the wild.
((RP Starter for @dear-gold-carcossa based on My Own Fic lol))
Everything hurt. Wings, horns, eyes, body. Muscles ached, screamed in agony as the nerves within rioted.
He was seizing, body rejecting the merge as the King fought to escape the prison of his body.
"You should not have done this. You will not survive."
"Yeah, well." He peered into the infinity he had access to, watched it shrink in real time, and
R
E
A
C
H
E
D
for help. For assistance, from anyone, anywhere, anywhen.
A long shot. A hope. A prayer. The mortal urge to continue living despite the odds.
Despite the losses already accrued.
Avery's splattered corpse would forever coat the bottom of the realm, a mess of green paste, staining the inky blackness until it too faded away, as all things would eventually.
Hands, looming, large, took his head and smashed it into the ground.
Helmet, flung to the side.
Horns, shattered irreparably.
All he had was small, shattered fragments of Hope.
Tears, like all things, came to an end eventually. But, still, Derek clung to Akestor. He felt as though he'd been torn asunder, left clinging to rocks amidst rapids of his own creation. The hummed song, it helped soothe the current, but if he let go he may drown, may shatter into little pieces and never succeed at picking himself back up again.
He did, however, simply go boneless in Akestor's arms, exhausted beyond measure, exhaustion too weak of a word to describe the feeling. But, if he slept, he would wake alone, and that would surely break him.
So, he does not sleep. Does not let the siren song of rest pull him asunder, lead him astray.
No, he is staying Right Here.
He does, eventually, move his head away, to look at his Akestor properly.
Only to blink with puffy reddened eyes as his bleary mind registered the presence of red on Akestor's clothing. Where had that come from?
"Akestor?" His voice, stronger now than before, but now scratchy and raw (he hadn't made a single sound yet his throat ached like he had been screaming the whole time. "Are you... Am I still...?"
"Are you sure? I, um.... You know more about what's in here than I do, if you want to change?" Notably, Derek doesn't let go to facilitate that change. If she wishes to change, it'll have to carry him over to the clothes to do so. He's not letting go.
He does, also, put his head back onto his Akestor where it had been before. It was comfy, and warm, and safe. He would do just about anything to be laying down and doing this, so that he could fall asleep properly in the New Nest, but alas.
(Internally, there’s a small debate. It could leave, it doesn’t want to. It could stay until he’s asleep and not leave until the morning, but it’s running out of time. It could stay until he’s asleep then leave a note or something, but it doesn’t want him to awake up alone.)
(…or. It could see how fast it can kill a god. Or at least trap one.)
*Avery lets out a pitiful trill, squeezing his eyes closed.*
I’m sorry imsorryimsorryimsorry-
*His words are barely heard, his body trembling even more.*
- ✒️🪽
He has not, in fact, preened his wings. His dad did, though, and Der too. But… Der’s gone. And Avery’s wings were the punishment for his involvement.
(Avid and The Caretaker share a quick glance. They aren’t surprised, these kinds of states are quite common for people to show up in- unfortunately- but more worryingly is that it will be challenging to heal him if he’s adverse to people getting near his wings)
(Avid taps his fingers on the clipboard, before slipping out of the room.)
..avery, please calm down. No one’s doing anything until you’re okay with it.
(Its tail swishes, agitated. It’s not going to pressure him, but the faster they can fix his wings the less likely they are to get infected or further damaged.)
I would never. And nether would anyone here. We only want to help. But to help, you have to let us deal with your injuries. That includes the one on your wing, dear.
((RP Starter for @dear-gold-carcossa based on My Own Fic lol))
Everything hurt. Wings, horns, eyes, body. Muscles ached, screamed in agony as the nerves within rioted.
He was seizing, body rejecting the merge as the King fought to escape the prison of his body.
"You should not have done this. You will not survive."
"Yeah, well." He peered into the infinity he had access to, watched it shrink in real time, and
R
E
A
C
H
E
D
for help. For assistance, from anyone, anywhere, anywhen.
A long shot. A hope. A prayer. The mortal urge to continue living despite the odds.
Despite the losses already accrued.
Avery's splattered corpse would forever coat the bottom of the realm, a mess of green paste, staining the inky blackness until it too faded away, as all things would eventually.
Hands, looming, large, took his head and smashed it into the ground.
Helmet, flung to the side.
Horns, shattered irreparably.
All he had was small, shattered fragments of Hope.
Tears, like all things, came to an end eventually. But, still, Derek clung to Akestor. He felt as though he'd been torn asunder, left clinging to rocks amidst rapids of his own creation. The hummed song, it helped soothe the current, but if he let go he may drown, may shatter into little pieces and never succeed at picking himself back up again.
He did, however, simply go boneless in Akestor's arms, exhausted beyond measure, exhaustion too weak of a word to describe the feeling. But, if he slept, he would wake alone, and that would surely break him.
So, he does not sleep. Does not let the siren song of rest pull him asunder, lead him astray.
No, he is staying Right Here.
He does, eventually, move his head away, to look at his Akestor properly.
Only to blink with puffy reddened eyes as his bleary mind registered the presence of red on Akestor's clothing. Where had that come from?
"Akestor?" His voice, stronger now than before, but now scratchy and raw (he hadn't made a single sound yet his throat ached like he had been screaming the whole time. "Are you... Am I still...?"
*Avery lets out a pitiful trill, squeezing his eyes closed.*
I’m sorry imsorryimsorryimsorry-
*His words are barely heard, his body trembling even more.*
- ✒️🪽
He has not, in fact, preened his wings. His dad did, though, and Der too. But… Der’s gone. And Avery’s wings were the punishment for his involvement.
(Avid and The Caretaker share a quick glance. They aren’t surprised, these kinds of states are quite common for people to show up in- unfortunately- but more worryingly is that it will be challenging to heal him if he’s adverse to people getting near his wings)
(Avid taps his fingers on the clipboard, before slipping out of the room.)
..avery, please calm down. No one’s doing anything until you’re okay with it.
(Its tail swishes, agitated. It’s not going to pressure him, but the faster they can fix his wings the less likely they are to get infected or further damaged.)
I would never. And nether would anyone here. We only want to help. But to help, you have to let us deal with your injuries. That includes the one on your wing, dear.
♪— A small child with chains appears, it prince outfit slightly massy — tentacles ripped heavily from the sharp edges of the chains. The child looks around confused, he never been out of the void before.
— @1he-l0st-ki4g
Child? Dear?
Oh dearie me.. what a state for you to be in..
(A person appears in front of him- regal, yet almost motherly. It’s concerned, its face scrunched in focus and worry.)
Hello, my dear. (It pulls its face into a smile.) why are you alone?
♪— The chains have a mix of Greek and latin written all over, easier to see up close than from afar, clearly rushed writing. ❝. . .I always been alone really. . .❞ it said in a whisper, voice weak. It hurts for it to speak.
♪— The Prince slowly crawls over, the chains heavy and making it hard to move well. ❝. . .I don't remember how I got like this. . .❞ it face is seen better — just a empty and simple black void.
(It gently pats his head, trying to alleviate the weight or pain..)
Is it alright if i pick you up, my dear?
(It eyes the chains on it. Its latin and greek, two languages it knows quite well. It hopes to gain some insight onto what kind of enchantment the chains have- hopefully to learn why they’re there or how to remove them..)
(It picks flower up into his arms. Cradling him ever so gently. He speaks to it calmly and softly.)
It’s alright, now. Let’s see if we can help you out a bit, yeah? You’re safe here, I promise you that.
(If the chains are a necessity, Caretaker at least hopes to maybe transfer the spells to something lighter… a child should be allowed to move freely, not be bound up all the time.)
♪— The Prince is a bit heavy from the chains on goldself, ❝. . .Okay. . .❞ it said weakly. The chains are slightly able to read — saying " Bound this soul to earth and soil, break their hope and spirit..... " the rest of the spell is hard to read but maybe a different chain will give out the rest.
(He carries him to the chapels living quarters. He places it gently a couch. It inspects the chains a bit closer.)
(Maybe it could switch them out for fabric tassels. Those have worked previously. They have quite the collection of binding spells and containment spells, and sage paper is wildly available for the witches..)
(It shifts the chains- both to get a look at them, and to carefully cover sharp points and corners of each. Perks of being made of what’s effectively solid jello, I guess)
(A small golden panel floats in the air. They write something, tap something, and then the panel disappears into glitter)
♪— ❝. . .Yay!. . .❞ it said, not minding the covering of the sharper parts of the chains.
♪— A part of the chain is able to fully read, saying " Bound this soul to earth and soil, break their hope and spirit, weakened them until they are nothing but a empty shell, let them rot away " The spell! But . . . now to figure out to remove the spell.
(He hums.. suddenly getting rid of a a spell all at once can be dangerous or jarring, so now that he has the full spell, the next goal is either to lessen it via removing bits at a time, or completely replacing it.)
(…once it’s sure that the child is more comfortable and not in pain, it stands and creates another panel.)
[it’s a note to witches and alchemists. It lists both the spell and what it’s made on. While it knows how to do things like this, he would rather leave it to professionals who have experience with both altering and making binding spells.]
Well, my love. Let’s see what the cooks have made, yes?
(He scoops The Prince back up, humming)
(The dining area is surprisingly quaint. It’s not overly fancy, but it’s obviously made to house many people at once. Instead of large tables to hold many, it’s set up closer to a restaurant. Smaller tables dotted around with some cushioned tables along the walls.)
(Eventually, someone brings out plates of food. They coo at the prince before leaving the two be)
♪— There is simple spaghetti with meatballs, red sauce and all. The Prince looks to the food — confused how to eat it or what it is, he never had spaghetti before or from what it knows.
♪— The Prince watches closely — following with the fork part. Gold stares at the pasta on the fork, then it summons a inky yellow mouth, biting down and eating the pasta.
(The Caretaker sits back, watching it with a smile. It hums, thinking again on what to do.. he isn’t sure whether to try and return the child home or not. If gold even has one.)
what kind of place to live would this be without things to do? The city square is usually quite lively this time of day. There lots of things to do as well.
(He snaps, the empty plates disappear, and it walks out of the dinning hall.)
(Outside of the glass doors is the view of the town. The golden sun bathes everything in a soft Yellow-orange light. The city centre is shaped in a semi circle around the Cathedral, busy already with families and people and kids all just existing without worry.)
(The square is busy but not loud, filled with shops and stores and restaurants. The centre between all the shops is a small garden, a golden leafed tree standing in the middle. A few kids have climbed up it, sitting in the branches and chatting between each other.)
((RP Starter for @dear-gold-carcossa based on My Own Fic lol))
Everything hurt. Wings, horns, eyes, body. Muscles ached, screamed in agony as the nerves within rioted.
He was seizing, body rejecting the merge as the King fought to escape the prison of his body.
"You should not have done this. You will not survive."
"Yeah, well." He peered into the infinity he had access to, watched it shrink in real time, and
R
E
A
C
H
E
D
for help. For assistance, from anyone, anywhere, anywhen.
A long shot. A hope. A prayer. The mortal urge to continue living despite the odds.
Despite the losses already accrued.
Avery's splattered corpse would forever coat the bottom of the realm, a mess of green paste, staining the inky blackness until it too faded away, as all things would eventually.
Hands, looming, large, took his head and smashed it into the ground.
Helmet, flung to the side.
Horns, shattered irreparably.
All he had was small, shattered fragments of Hope.
(But something does. Something gold. Something bright. Almost too bright.)
(It’s blinding, the room being bathed instantaneously in a white gold light, light that dims to show… Something. Humanoid, almost. It doesn’t touch the ground, large glowing wings rest in the air- not even in use- it’s simply hovering there. It laughs, though it sounds closer to a hum.)
Didn’t someone teach you not to break your toys?
(There’s something in its hand.. it’s hard to see until it moves it to his right. It’s a sword, golden and shimmery and hard to look away from.)
(The figure disappears- and Derek is carefully, gently, lifted into something’s arms… it’s warm.. he’s wrapped in wings..)
What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor innocent soul
But, when faced with the brilliance of what could only be an angel, with wings that hurt his head to even ponder, let alone perceive, sent from a deity he didn't believe in.
Well.
One finds their core beliefs shaken loose.
Would it make sense for the Christian God to be another figment of the King in Yellow? Or, was it simply the delirium of a head wound, loss of his not-mate, the certainty of death shattered by the saving? Or, was he already dead, and this his last moments showing a savior that did not exist?
Were it the latter, would he not go to the Christian Hell instead, for his failure to save the one who mattered?
The sword (which angel had a sword again? was it Gabriel? Or was it Raphael? the ramblings of his religion-obsessed little sister did not help him here) seemed to banish the King. Or, perhaps, scattered it from whence it came.
Was he not still tied to it? Could it not harm him from anywhere, anywhen, because of the spell?
He didn't know.
He is lifted into the arms of the angel, his head lolling uselessly to the side, a whine of pain leaving him even as hands inch uselessly towards helm and horn alike. They are small things, but. Special. Important.
He is... Is he safe? He is still here, he cannot be safe until he is gone or he is dead.
"A... ver... y...?" His throat is dry and scratchy from screaming, from dehydration, from the bruising grip on it only moments before. Can the angel save Avery?
(He hums, face shadowed. The.. crown? On its head is reminiscent.. but it looks at Derek, and smiles. It’s warm. A hand carefully holds Derek’s head, gently brushing hair and blood off his face.)
Hello, my dear.
(Wings fold up and disappear into the air. Two stay wrapped around Derek and It. Something opens under Derek’s helm and it falls into whiteness.)
(..it doesn’t know where the king is. But it’s gone for now and it’ll take that. It takes the situation into account. Avery is somewhere in the void- not a hard fix, though for now the priority is getting Derek safely in haven and away from here. It’s glad it has so many empty rooms and houses.)
Do not fret. He will not be left here. I will do what I can, my star.
(There’s something in front of it- Derek can’t get a good look, but it glows with that same gold white. The two enter- and for a second everything is white. Too white, before it gently covers his eyes)
Wings, soft and real, wrap around him. Memories, long-forgotten - different wings, different people, different situations. Purpose the same. Protect, protect, protect, from that which would harm.
The Angel calls him it's dear, calls him it's star. Promises Avery will not be left behind.
That his eyes are covered means nothing. He has already Seen--
--Seen Eyes and Wings and Thrashing Inky Blackness, Vastness and Nothingness, Creation and Destruction, the Big Bang and the Cosmic Separation, Black Holes consuming Stars, Quasars spawning Stars, Life and Death, Creation and Destruction, Birth of Beloved Child, Death of Despised Politician, the Looming Evil Of All, The Cradling Hand Of Benevolence And Kindness, Rise of Civilizations Before His Time, Collapse of Alien Races After His Time, Cycle Beginning Anew, Cycle Ending Again, Over and Over and Over and Over--
Inside, where the Knowledge Lay, Corrupted and Rotting, a second sliver of the Knowledge, Eternal, claimed a home and a space.
All he can do is whimper at his soul re-arranging, making room for more of what he should not be able to contain.
The eye that bleeds, that aches, flashes the same gold-white as the Angel. Not that Derek knows this.
(He hums. It’s a song Derek doesn’t recognise. It makes something in his mind cloud- like it’s stuffed with gauze and cotton. The white subsides. And the bright is replace with warm orange. He hears forest- birds, squirrels, the sounds of things scampering and a distant river. And the hand over his eyes is removed.)
(He’s warm. Even has the wings finally fold and dissipate into the air.)
Home. (It’s a whispered word… it sounds relieved.)
Derek's mind clouds, dampens. The excess knowledge (not the new, the Rot) seems syphoned by the stuffing. Or, perhaps, it is the concussion that he can now acknowledge. He would never know.
The underground silence replaced with bird-song, bugs going places, is loud in comparison to the silence.
His Angel whispers a word that he does not, will not acknowledge.
Home was left at the bottom of the void but did his Angel not promise Avery's safe return?
He cannot keep consciousness much longer; even with it all, the change in location is enough for his body to decide he is safe now. Can rest now.
It is all he can to do weakly grab one of the hands that held him, murmuring something that could have been thanks but could also be a grumbled whine from the sun hitting his face, before passing out.
(It hums at the last sentence. It’s an accurate statement, and one it holds to. But it doesn’t like it. It needs something new- something that produces the same effect, just.. different.)
[]
(He’s somewhere warm, noticeably different from the outside- it’s soft underneath him, the sun filters through a red curtain. He can hear people outside.. laughter, chatting, people having fun.)
(…meanwhile, The Caretaker is back in the caves. The void is penetrated by a bright light, though He can see just fine. It doesn’t need a lot to get someone back, just the small vial it had on hand. It hums the same song again, speaking to nothing)
He dreams of a lightless void, of a being so vast and so old it had hand-placed stars within that void. Of individual starts twinkling out, of their lifespans ending, and of new stars taking their place. He dreams of stars drifting away from the void. He dreams of stars to-ing and fro-ing from the void.
He dreams of the void becoming lighter, brighter, of the Core Of It All becoming less a void and more a star unto itself. Of being the hearth of the home.
He dreams of two new stars. One, purple, but blemished. Tainted. Thread pulling from outside the void, yet equally, thread within, tying to that hearth. A second, a weak flickering green, shuttering as though it weren't certain it wanted to gutter out or stay afloat.
Then, the dream fades. Replaced with aches all over, yet on the comfiest cloud he's ever known. Of a head full of stabbing pain, of knowledge he ought not know, yet. Of an eye covered in something.
And yet.
He doesn't wake scared.
He wakes full of motion.
Stillness, when waking, had gotten him caught on more than one occasion.
He moves, not yet awake yet not fully sleeping, creeping on silent feet as his brain catalogues the sound and then dismisses. The Goal: Survival.
Is His Enemy Here?
The pause.
...
No.
He does not feel hunted. Does not feel like prey. Still half asleep, he returns to the bed, curls back up within its protection, and allows himself the luxury of waking slowly. Of properly acknowledging his situation.
Somehow, he's in a comfy bed. The comfiest he's ever slept on ever, including his knight days don't think about it. The room, prepared to help someone wounded rest and recover. The curtains, in the same shade of red as his beloved cape. His armor, cleaned and repaired as best someone could to such a battered set, placed carefully upon a dresser.
His wings, bandaged and splinted.
He refuses to look in a mirror.
Within the void, the Caretaker receives nothing but impressions from the one left behind. Love, Affection, concern for Red/Purple. Acceptance of Situation.
Request. Protect/Preserve/Love for Red/Purple?
Request. Safety/Happiness/Affection for Red/Purple?
Green hoped Yellow would agree.
Staying behind was Hard/Difficult/Scary.
Would Yellow Protect/Preserve/Love/Safety/Affection that which Yellow borrowed from Green?
(It hmms and hums. It caps the small vial he had in his hands. Its gold and decorated and seems to shine.)
I promised that both he and you would be safe. I intend to keep that promise.
(…he may be rushing, just a tad. It shows no sign of worry or concern, but internally he is wanting to return back as soon as possible. It doesn’t want to leave Its dearest alone too long.)
[]
(When it returns, it appears back in the Cathedral. It’s a large building, gold and bright and open. Theres windows on every wall, and plants in every open space. Vines crawl along walls and the ceiling, and some parts of the floor are more moss than tile.)
(It would almost seem abandoned, if not for the way the plants are carefully cared for a preened and the walls and floor that are visible are meticulously maintained. Golden sun spills through skylights)
(…he slips into the only room that’s locked to the outside.)
[]
(Derek’s room is within the cathedral. It’s made to not mimic his own, but at least resemble it. There are bookshelves and wall shelves on most walls, a pc set up on one end. And there are two doors- not gold doors, but the handles are gold. One leads out, the other to a bathroom.)
(The room itself is dark and soft. It’s bright, but the walls and floor are made of a deep, dark wood, and there a soft green rug on the floor. It’s patterned with daisies.. The bed itself feels too large for just one person. Theres a vase with flowers and a clock on the bedside table. It’s some time past noon. There’s a small note on the table as well.)
Keep Red/Purple Safe/Happy/Loved, Yellow. For Green.
Green never knew what Yellow needed from Remains/Reminder/Leftover. Perhaps, with time, Green would know.
Green was... Tired.
Farewell, Yellow and Red/Purple.
-------
Derek hears footsteps echo outside the room he is in, and he pretends to still be sleeping. Still be resting.
The footsteps, they do not pause outside the door. Merely continue onwards.
He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and with a sigh properly assesses himself.
He is... Coated in bandages, ice packs, various goops and medicinal remedies and things. Almost every inch of him is slathered in some kind of something.
He knew he'd gotten messed up in the... He didn't even know how long he'd been down there anymore, but ALL of him?
He felt something pulse in the back of his head, a door where once had been a gaping maw of knowledge. A door... Locked?
No.
Not locked.
Merely protective. He willed it open a crack, and--
From the outside, saw the vastness of a Cathedral except that wasn't quite right and the zoom in on the space He Occupied--
Derek gently, but firmly, closed the door.
Later problem.
Finally, he takes note of the note. Now that he's acknowledging the damage, it hurts, so shuffling around to reach it is a struggle.
Eventually, he nabs the paper, and sets about trying to read through a concussion and the fact that moving seemed to make the world spin on its axis.
(My Dearest Star: I hope the room meets expectations. The books and trinkets on your shelves should hopefully match what you had previously. If you require anything do not hesitate to call for me. Notify me if you are missing anything)
(It’s signed with a small print of a crown and a heart, and a cursive ‘Akestor’)
[]
(…Akestor leans over a large desk. He doesn’t sit down on the chair placed by it, instead he’s lumped over papers scattered across the surface. There’s paper it though he would never have to get these papers out- or at least he hoped he wouldn’t.)
(..he’s done this before- bringing back matter is easy when you have some of it on hand and it once existed. Though this is different that before. Avery’s soul is not close by, nor is it ready to return. It would rather do more research to make sure nothing goes wrong.)
... Now that the note has pointed it out, they did match. Didn't smell the same wrong wrong not his things not his hoard but were similar enough for the thought to count. He suppose that he, himself, is the star in question. A nickname, maybe? Or maybe it had to do with his weird dream. Maybe his degrees?
The only way to know would be to meet the Angel, this Akestor, himself.
He is blatantly ignoring the fact that the doodled crown is setting off alarm bells in his head.
So, with a sigh, he climbs to his feet once again. This time, noticing that, while his armor is off, that his savior had put him in soft boxers and a tank top, with slits for his wings. All in his beloved cape's red.
Still, semantics. There is a goal to be achieved, and that goal is exploration. Even with his limbs in screaming agony, he will explore. He cannot be contained!
He pads to the doors. The first one he tries is the exit into the hall. Tentatively, on bare and silent feet, he pads out into the hall, sticking to the edge and looking all around.
This place.... It's beautiful. Even here, in what he can only assume is living quarters, is beautiful. Full of yellow (another point towards his unease), but stunningly beautiful in a way he couldn't quite vocalize even if he tried.
He picks a direct and wanders, one hand on the wall to steady himself as he goes.
(It opens to what seems like a courtyard. There’s fruit trees and flower bushes and.. children. Ranging from 5 to 17. They aren’t doing much in particular, it seems like they’re all just.. existing. There’s different species, some are birds, humans, cats, slimes, enderians.)
(..despite this, the place doesn’t feel crowded. There’s a small pathway that cuts through the garden.)
(..The Caretaker is being effectively ganged up on by kids. She’s sitting in a flower field, carefully leaning as one places a flower crown on its head. It seems she’s teaching them all how to make flower crowns.. the other kids scattered around it are diligently working away trying to make crowns using the various flowers. Some are teaching other kids, others are just running around it.)
(Caretaker’s switched the previous outfit for one more… casual. It has a skirt on, and has traded the heels for simple heelless socks. Someone’s put flowers in her hair. …it looks.. calm. Though Derek can See its tired. Somethings eating at it.)
The presence of children stops him dead. He assesses each one...
They all look so happy. Relaxing, to-ing and fro-ing, he's caught wind of at least one plan to play tag among the littles.
He eases off of the wall, padding on bare feet down the (rather well maintained) path (designed to not catch little feet, he notices. He is starting to wonder if this is simply a nest on a grander scale than first appears), emerging eventually in the flower field with the largest conglomerate of children he has seen anywhere other than a school playground. All, it seemed, centered around...
Well, his memory is a little fuzzy, but whoever it is looks enough like the Angel that saved him that he can really only come to one conclusion. This must be Akestor, themselves.
He hesitates by his pathway, suddenly far less certain than when he had left his rooms. If there were happy children, happy hatchlings, then he simply couldn't be somewhere designed by It to harm him. So... What did that leave him. He couldn't be dead, because his Avery would be there...
He doesn't get much more time to think when a child that had been using Akestor as a comfy resting spot, pointed him out to them, with soft words he couldn't quite make out.
Akestor... Now that he's looking closer, seemed worried. About what, he didn't know. Maybe one of the Hatchlings was having an issue?
(She looks up, a tad surprised. It gently picks the child up- patting the other on the head- and stands. It calmly, yet a tad panicked, pads over to Derek. …it moves so smoothly over the stone pathways, like she’s gliding not walking. The train of its skirt trails after it, leaving small sparkles on the ground that dissipate into the air.)
My star, you should not be up and moving- you are still injured, we only just finished patching you up, what if you tripped?
(..the kids watch on at the two with looks and a few share hushed words. The looks on their faces are distinctly that of “ooooo’s” and giggles. Some of the older kids usher others away.)
(She has been dragged out of her office a few moments prior. The others had gathered to force it to take a break. …it still has research to do, but she’s at least glad it caught Derek before he could wander too far and harm himself.)
The... Panic? Concern? Baffles him. Really, why him? He's not that special.
Still, Akestor had gone through the trouble of saving him, so perhaps it was to not let that hard work go to waste?
"If I'd tripped, then I'd have tripped. It would have been fine." Even as he says so, based on the bandaging and the pastes and the like on him, he knows that that wouldn't entirely be the case. In his head, he can see that it would... Strain some already strained parts of him. Perhaps even damage a wing more. Interesting, though, that it was so clear.
"While I appreciate the concern, I am fine. Thank you, though, for your help. It... Was you that saved me, yes?" To... Some definition of fine, perhaps. If your baseline is did I get a restful sleep and hurt less than normal then yes, he is fine. To... Any other definition, he is not fine. Far more important is confirming without a doubt that this was his Angel, the Akestor that saved him. Their calling him star was clue enough, but he had to make extra certain.
Though, something inside knew already. Especially given the... Shapeless black mass behind them, that the children seemed to pass through as though it weren't there, tendrils draped across shoulders and patting heads as kiddos darted around.
He takes note of the children scampering off, out to play tag or something, perhaps? Or maybe the older children saw his bandaged self and decided to draw the littles away. No matter.
You would still be hurt, and I cannot have that. Apologise, but no, you may wander about and explore when I trust that you will not be at risk of further injury.
(It scoops him up again, with so little effort like he weighed nothing.)
I do not want to lock your door, but I will if I must. What if you pulled something, or knocked a bandage loose? Or heavens forbid got lost?
(..she sounds exasperated. She walks him all the way back through the corridors, going over all the possible ways he could’ve gotten injured the whole time. )
The squawk he made upon getting scooped like he weighs nothing is not one he will admit to making. No, no sounds from him.
He already knows the children who heard it are giggling, can see the laughter and shaking shoulders, and knows he won't live the sound down. At least, until something more interesting for them comes around.
"I would be fine - was, in fact fine." He insists, once the shock of getting scooped like a particularly naughty kitten has subsided. "I'm grown, I can take care of myself."
And yet, he makes no move to get out of the arms that carried him. Not being on his feet felt far better to his aching body than being on them, at least for the time being.
He also makes no move to halt the, clearly stress-induced, ramblings coming from Akestor (he has, in his head, decided this is that Akestor). Perhaps something else has gone awry, and he's simply the present target? Besides, his only comeback is that those things are also entirely plausible to happen within the room he was given. Which... Is not the comeback one ought to have in this kind of situation. Not really. So, instead, he opts for a different question.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but what's with the... Shapeless black shape behind you? I don't mind, I can't exactly feel it, but it's been petting my head since you picked me up, and it was patting the children's heads as they wandered around you."
"I mean. I was looking at you before you covered my eyes. Felt kinda like when I looked at, uh. You know. But less stabbing pain. It was... Beautiful, honestly. I'm assuming it's residual from that?" He reaches up an arm to, not touch (because he can't) but lay a palm almost directly where the tendril that had been petting his head had stilled when the question had been asked.
He drops with an oof sound, landing... Not so gracefully on the mattress, cringing when a wing is jammed from the poor landing. Not that he's saying shit about it.
And then he registers Akestor's question, and he goes from calm and relaxed to flushed purple. Quickly, he grabs a blanket to cover the boxers - not that it mattered, he'd been exploring outside in them, but it was the tone that made him feel small.
"N-no, I'm not cold. The stuff here, it's not mine." A weak excuse at best, but quite frankly he's not going to admit that he was still half convinced he was dead and this was some kind of in-between or something.
(..the blackness and void part and seem to avoid him. It curls in on itself in an almost embarrassed manner… whatever it is, it almost seems to act like a ‘tail’ does- responding to subconscious thoughts and emotions that Akestor either does not feel or does not acknowledge)
(She’s going to swiftly ignore the previous statement. To unpack Later but sure as hell Not Now. ..It can’t help but quietly laugh at his reaction.)
No, no the things in this room are in fact yours. That includes the bathroom off to the side, as well. What is the point of a room made to your liking if it is not yours?
(File away ‘issues with possessions’ into behavioural file.)
When It laughs at him, he notices the black shapeless void wiggles a little. Like a cat's tail, almost, except on a larger and less physical scale.
"... It's not mine." Statement. It is similar, and he appreciates the attempt to get close, but. It's not his. Case in point, the items he knew weren't put there for him. They hurt a spot inside that he's not acknowledging because Avery is dead dead dead gone forever and it it screaming in agony but there is nothing he can do for it except let time fix the damage.
"It might be a dragon thing," He admits, because he refuses to be rude when he doesn't have to be and because someone went through some effort for him. "But they're not mine-mine, if that makes any sense. They're close to what I had, which I do appreciate. But also, they're... Generically mine? Like, essence of me, and not this version of me. If that makes sense."
And... Upon closer look at the trinkets and books and things, he is not wrong. Lots for mechanics, for programming. For interests mixed in that belong to Avery someone else. But. There's no astronomy, no astrophysics. No old training manuals from his knight days. No seven copies of his dissertation covered in red ink and scrawling handwriting.
No case file kept in a plain box somewhere obvious and visible to haunt him.
"I just... It's a very good replica of a hoard. But it's not my hoard."
It’s possible I missed things, but it also appears you haven’t really taken the time to actually.. look around?
…if you want, when you are properly healed, you are free to.. return. To get your things or… stay. But- here, these things are yours, think of them as gifts.
(She’ll admit, she left some things out.. more on purpose. It doesn’t know everything he had or has, at least not entirely. What it knows is feelings tied to objects, and… well she definitely omitted some of the less pleasant items.)
And he did clock the hesitation about him returning. But, that led to his own thoughts.
Returning... Meant that doing so was possible. Meant that he wasn't dead. Meant that he was alive, properly alive and not just going through the motions.
... Did he even want to go back? Without Avery, he didn't have much to live for back there, except for his hoard. Which was an honestly pitiful thing. He would be better served starting anew.
He realized he'd been silent for too long, shook his head to clear it.
"Sorry - was just... Thinking. Um. Thank you, for the... Everything here, really." Now that he could settle in the knowledge that the things here were supposed to be his and Avery's, supposed to be kept and used, something inside... Not settled, but soothed.
Someone had paid enough attention to have a clue about what he liked, and had gone through this effort to try and make him feel more at ease. And he had a feeling that someone was Akestor themselves.
"I don't think I thanked you for saving me. Um. I... Appreciate it. I don't... Know how to repay you for all this."
…you don’t need to. Just you being healthy and safe is enough for me.
(It hums. Tail(s) swaying idly behind her as it tries to think of what to say that would be… normal. New information swirls in its head but bringing that up would be.. strange, to say the least.)
Part of you being healthy means you healing, mind you. Which also means resting and not straining yourself. Like sleeping, which you look like you haven’t properly done in months.
Healthy and safe? In this economy? Less like than he'd think.
He clocks the goop swishing, and his brain can only tie the movement to a cat's tail. If he looks at the inky blackness like that... Well. It's a framework that could work.
"Uh." Well. "You... Don't know?" How does one explain that being hunted for sport included not sleeping At All until he dropped?
You dive in without thinking about what you're saying, if he's taking a page from Avery's don'tthinkaboutit book.
"I thought being hunted until you dropped and being woken up or maimed was a normal part of dealing with Him? Is it... Not?"
..... Well. Generally, no. Though I suppose it's wrong to ignore the possibility of it. Usually it is not so... Feral. But, you do not have to worry about that here, so please take a moment to actually rest and sleep.
(she needs to get back to figuring out Avery's body. Faster it can get that research done the faster it can get back into their world and deal with that king.)
Nothing about what he had lived through was normal, it seems. Even in a world where he could potentially run into other versions of himself, he was still an oddity. An outlier.
On the outside looking in, once again, how he hadn't missed it.
"... Oh." His whole form droops with the weight of the knowing. Realistically, some piece of his mind knew that being hunted the way he had been was abnormal for a being known as a great old one, but still.
Though, that brought forth a new question. Could he sleep here, as he was?
...
No.
No, he hadn't used enough energy for his body to accept sleep, even if he wanted it to. He used to be able to sleep on command, but now he was hard wired to sleep lightly and jump awake at any odd sound. Besides, it's not like you could rest without sleeping.
"I'm... Not sure if I can." Is what he says, after a lengthy pause. "I don't... If you look, you'll know why. So, look. I don't know how to explain this right." It would... Also confirm if his savior was a version of Him. If they could do it. But, they had been nothing but kind, so perhaps different was good.
It’s alright. Everyone here is different from each other in some way or another. I assure you, you are not the only one with a similar story. Nor will you be the worst off, as unfortunate as that is.
(She smiles, apologetically.)
…only if you are absolutely certain. It is not my place to know, nor to invade the privacy of memories. So, only if you are certain you are okay with it.
(It looks almost.. sad? Or worried? Maybe some combination of both. It raises a hand, a quiet offer.)
So Akestor was a version of Him after all. That it didn't immediately look spoke well of it, but still.
No, that was unkind.
It had heard his call, had saved him, and (if he was being honest with himself) ensured he was in the least amount of pain he'd been in... Since a few months after he'd been down there. Seemed invested in his health and happiness.
Perhaps there was something wrong with his version of the King. Perhaps they were all supposed to be like Akestor - getting the knowledge a second time hadn't hurt at all (or maybe was overshadowed by the head trauma).
He knew his answer.
At least he wouldn't be alone in the knowing.
"How does it work?" He asks, taking the offered hand. Tentatively, yes, but he takes it nonetheless and lets the touch ground him. How long has it been since he's willingly touched someone? "Do I just, say yes and you know, or do I have to relive it all?" That he would, was willing to do so, said more about his character than he was willing to admit. At least, it did if you knew his history.
No, no not at all. You need not do anything, it won’t take long. Though I do warn you, I may heat up.
(She clasps its other hand over his, keeping a warm smile on its face.)
(“Perhaps there was something wrong with his version of the king.” An accurate statement, not that either of them knew. That would take more research and time than she had on hand.)
"If you're certain." He doesn't know what to do, but he's done all he has to do.
Given the sudden stillness of the goop-tails...
When Derek consented to Akestor seeing it, knowing it, he hadn't known how it worked. What would be shown. Perhaps he should have asked more questions...
Too late for that, now.
It begins.
((I'm dropping it ALL under a read more. TW for those reading for child abuse, reference to SA, Starvation, Torture, ECT.))
Derek, two, curled up in a tiny ball in a closet, clutching a stuffed dragon, red handprint on his cheek, tears soaking the fabric. Hidden; an older sibling cooing to him while shouting goes on in the background.
Derek, five, teaching himself how to read from the dictionary while the same sibling from before is removed from the home in the background; he cries, it is silent. It is unnoticed.
Derek, seven, spoofing his parents signatures for online school enrollment on the shitty laptop he had fished out of the dump and repaired. Spoofing the same for all his siblings, silently, once he's done it for his own.
Derek, nine, protecting a toddler from screaming parents, cooing softly as an elder brother leaves. A nation is mentioned, a knight order.
Derek, twelve, teaching his now many younger siblings how to read, how to write, how to tie their shoes. But also, how to go unnoticed by their parents, made harder by a fresh egg clutch.
Derek, fourteen, understanding what it means when his final eldest sibling is removed from the nest. He doesn't cry over this anymore; instead, he keeps his head down and feeds his newest little sibling. He hasn't slept through the night in years.
Derek, fifteen, the parental bond ends. He has his duffle packed, full of everything he's ever owned. He tells his elder young siblings to brace.
Derek, sixteen, leaves. A fresh black eye and bruises for the trouble of protecting a toddler from a drunken rage. He goes to the knight order.
Derek, sixteen, introduced to... Sir.
Derek, sixteen, told that... Certain things... Are a part of the order. That he Must.
Derek, sixteen, learning that no doesn't mean no. Not for him. Not when it is Sir.
Derek, sixteen, when...
The memories speed up, flashes of events that need not be put to paper. Notable is the introduction of the knight captain, a Mister to his Sir, and he has less peace than before. No meant little before, it means nothing now.
Derek, freshly twenty. Mortified as what is supposed to be a prank, his journal read to the entire order.
Derek, the next day, watching as his trainer and the knight captain (Sir and Mister) are removed from the order with disgrace. As his trainer is sent to prison with a wrist slap sentence and the knight captain is able to stay out Scott Free.
Derek, leaving the order for college. Sinking into his studies. Getting a PhD in astrophysics, because he would rather be anywhere other than on this planet. A BS in Math and Mechanical Engineering because it is interesting.
Derek, twenty-seven, when his trainer and his old knight captain (Sir and Mister, forever Sir and Mister) make The Demand. The Threat, with a toddler who looks like the rest of his siblings as the Ammunition.
Derek, who enters hell not for curiosity, but to save a sibling he does not know is already returned home. Was never in danger.
Derek, who explores for curiosity (endless curiosity) but also because there must be some reason this place was chosen for him. Something aside from those that wished him gone to disappear, to vanish without trace, a loose end tied neatly.
Derek, who sees his version of the King and is, from there, relentlessly hunted for sport. For months.
Derek, who tanks the knowledge better than others like him because he is a dragon, because he hoards knowledge, because he doesn't want to be there, and because his version of the king wanted a fighter to hunt for sport.
Derek, who is hunted throughout a Carcosa designed to confuse, abuse, and whittle him down to nothing. Getting caught, mauled like a wild animal, only to run for the chase to continue.
Derek, who is pushed past a breaking point he hadn't known he had had once his food ran out, even after rationing. Who learned through trial and error which foods within the halls would make him ill, and which were safe to eat.
Derek, dealing with only having time to eat the occasional cave critter, or some lichen; any attempt at proper nutrition is enough time for his version of the king to catch him, and he doesn't want to be caught.
Derek, who has his nervous system rewritten to associate being alone with fear, anxiety, being hunted. Who had associated rest with pain, with capture, with escape. Who has associated physical contact with going-to-be-harmed.
Derek, who went from being big and broad to skinny and scrawny. Who went from fitting his armor perfectly to it hanging off of him, doing more harm than good.
Derek, who leaves the note for Avery not expecting to be alive by the time the slime finds it.
Derek, dealing with the aftermath of failing to save Avery. Of his kings plan failing so hard it didn't swap out of hardcore mode, of it not being his fault.
Derek, letting his echoing desire to be saved - no. To save Avery, despite his mate being deceased, to echo through the fabric of infinity until he is saved.
Derek, now, hand in hand with that who had saved him, with that he ought not to trust yet chooses to trust anyways. Willingly. Because his savior, who he had figured out was a version of the king, came for him. For Avery. Was kind when he had not seen kindness in almost a decade, and chose to Trust In That.
(Akestor is… outwardly, not much. Inwardly… Akestor is used to quietly seething. Used to being pissed off and angry and not showing any of it. And she is pissed. Pissed off at nearly every person Derek has ever met.)
(And yet. It smiles. It keeps the exact same friendly smile it’s had the whole time. It doesn’t take long. Maybe a few seconds- and she does heat up only slightly.)
(..and after a bit. It breathes in a very, very long drawn out breath. And pulls Derek into an embrace.)
Derek felt the temperature change. Watched, as the stillness of the goop changed dramatically. From stillness, to thrashing, goop curling and uncurling, like storm clouds rolling in.
Had he... Had he hurt Akestor in some way? Had something gone wrong?
Or perhaps. Terribly, horribly right, in a way he didn't want to think about? Was his past truly that bad?
He's stuck motionless, a statue, his wings twitching with the need to move, to flee the Predator, but also to stay stock-still, to not Draw Attention.
And he is reminded that breathing, for a being such as Akestor, is... Optional. That It takes so long to breathe unsettles him, that the breath does nothing for the thrashing goop full of anger and rage and things he couldn't quite name.
And then suddenly he has arms full of Akestor, he is held by Akestor, and things shake loose before settling into place.
When had he started shaking? He didn't know.
He didn't resist it, found he didn't want to resist it. Instead, he melted, tension that had built since he'd woken up (tension he'd been carrying for far longer than that) melting away in the face of someone who knew the all of him and cared enough to hold him anyways. Who knew his everything, and cared to cradle him like he meant something.
(They just stay there. The 10 new spines on her head slowly dissipate- when did those get there? ..it breathes long and slow, slow enough to follow without issue.)
(..it’s rumbling? Not quite a purr, no, closer to how the ground vibrates before and earthquake. The swirls and splots of orange in its skin vibrate along with it.)
"How much did you see?" He pretends his voice isn't small with the question, that it didn't crack. That he asked at all.
The longer the contact went on (to him it felt like eons, when it had been, maybe, a minute at most), the more it felt like pins and needles. Like something he should want, something that shouldn't hurt him, yet the phantom touch of those not here wanted to color the interaction.
He... Did not want to allow that to happen.
Was it selfish, to want to bask in Being Wanted For Once? Perhaps. But, dragons were supposed to be selfish, were they not?
He was trembling like a leaf, but his hands fisted (carefully, claws sheathed) in Akestor's clothes. He wasn't letting go, wouldn't let go, until he felt settled or until she wanted to be let go. Whichever happened first.
And, if he were honest... Being held felt nice. Being surrounded by a purring being (not quite a purr, yes, but to him it counted, hit his frankly frazzled instincts in all the right places) who valued him made him feel cared for and cherished in a way he'd never felt. So, if he started purring, a stuttering purr that couldn't decide if it was on or off, well. That was between himself and Akestor, was it not?
(He was purring, a stuttering thing that sounded like it hadn't been used since at least before he was sent to the caves, perhaps longer. And Dragons don't purr when they are held by others, unless there is Trust and Affection. Not just touch starvation at its worst, which is also admittedly at play. Purring when being held is usually saved for friends and family, of which he has none, now, but was counting Akestor among. His savior, his subconscious had decided, could be trusted)
(If it had to admit; Every time it was faced with someone in distress or pain- it felt like a moral failing. Like it should’ve been there, should’ve done something, even if that wasn’t even physically possible. The only thing it Can do, is help with the aftermath. Try to pick up pieces and carefully glue it back together like a jigsaw of someone else’s life. And even then, there are things Akestor is just not capable of fixing- willing, to fix. maybe it could, with manipulation or altering memories or hypnosis, and it has- Had done that before- but it wouldn’t.
As much as it wants to simply erase entire swaths of history or kill and maim- that wouldn’t fix the problem. It would just shove it off to the side to fester and bubble and boil, and eventually burst.)
(And Akestor is not going to drop its hold. Not until Derek has decided to. Because if it was forced to be honest with itself for once, it wasn’t just Derek who needed it.
Akestor smells of caramelising sugar. partly due to the slow boil and burn of honey in its core.)
..enough.
(It had seen enough. Enough for a terribly familiar boil and simmer of rage to bubble back up in the back of its mind. Enough that’s it’s tempted to dip into old habits. Enough to feel the slow inching return of a similar self hatred it thought it stuffed far back enough that it wouldn’t show up again)
Derek smelled the caramelized sugar (it wasn't Akestor's usual smell, given that it hadn't started until after the sharing) and hears It say it saw Enough, and.
He must have done something wrong. It's the only explanation.
And yet, Akestor clung to him just as much as he clung to It. So, perhaps. Perchance. He hadn't done anything wrong and, for once, someone was upset on his behalf.
Which was truly bizarre. He's never had that before. Maybe with Avery, but he'd never gotten to explore it. So. Perhaps not. (He ignores the Knowing he has, filling in the gaps, that while Avery would, that Avery would have gone straight into vowing vengeance and violence against those who dared, and that Akestor still might. Akestor, who wasn't teetering on the fence about it, but who was ensuring Derek's own safety, comfort, and happiness before making that decision or letting Derek make it on his own, and the comfort that brought him stole his breath for a moment)
"I'm sorry." Sorry for existing, for being a problem. But also, for causing the turmoil he can feel like its his own radiating from the other. That he's the cause of yet another problem. And yet, also, sorry for lack of a warning. That he hadn't realized a warning may have been necessary. That he didn't know how much had been shown, and thus didn't know what to warn for in the first place.
That he hadn't known he could ask for the help he'd received until it was too late for Avery.
Shame, now intermixed with everything else he was feeling (affection for Akestor, belonging, being wanted and wanting in return, not being drowned out but shuffled to the side in favor of this). He had caused harm to the one who saved him, and was selfish enough to want to hold on anyways. What kind of man was he, if he couldn't let go when he'd done such a thing? Yet, he wouldn't let go. Couldn't. He might break if he did, into approximately a million little pieces, and he lacked the strength to pull them back together on his own.
(Her hold just.. tightens, a bit. Doesn’t seem like he’s the only one to not want to let go.)
No.. no, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing at all.
(It breathes. Some attempt to calm its own nonexistent nervous system. Its core still boils but the smell of burning sugar dies down slightly. Her priority is not itself- the breathing is more for Derek than itself.)
The hold tightens safety security wanted wanted wanted and with it, so too did his hold on his fragile emotions. The reassurances help, they do, but they also shake more loose inside.
How long had he waited for his own parents to say such things to him? His teachers? How long had he waited for someone that wasn't himself to say such a thing, to mean it to the point it felt like a basic building block of reality? Water was wet, gravity made things fall down, the center of the galaxy held a black hole, he was not at fault for this.
"I'm not? You're sure?" His voice is stronger than it was with his apology (that it was still ongoing inside, apologizing for existing and the minutia of that, was for him to know - and likely Akestor as well, but he wasn't thinking about that right now), but still small. He lacked the strength to be strong right now, yes, but at the same time, he felt like he was safe enough to not be strong. To not be tall. To feel as though he were small again, wrapped in a safety he hadn't been allowed... Ever.
He comes to three realizations, in quick succession.
The first: If he could stay here forever, wrapped in the safety of his savior, he would do so.
The second: If he could have saved Avery, he would want them to experience this as well. Even if it wouldn't feel the same.
The third: Akestor... Was like him. Hadn't broken the same, but. Well. Broken children recognize broken children, even if they did not break the same.
He mulled them over, even as he melted into the hold, let himself feel safe and protected in a way he hadn't experienced since entering the caves (since before, too, but a moot point), and found himself coming to a fourth conclusion.
He didn't want to go back. Having lived through it all, there were things he would change, but he'd do it again if it meant getting here. To where he could feel safe, and secure, and protected, and if his instincts weren't lying (they could be, he wouldn't be able to tell) loved.
I’m absolutely certain, love. Other people’s cruelty is not you fault, ever.
(There’s an odd mix of wants now. The want to continue holding him and never letting go, the want to get back to research because it felt like the least it could do for the both of them, the want to not be more than 2 feet away from him, the want to distance and act like she was never open or vulnerable)
(None are quite as important as the Now, though. And so she does not move. Staying there, content enough with simply holding and reassuring him. It is the least it can do- even as it wishes it could do more.)
(The burning has died off. The sound of bubbling replaced with what sounds like a heartbeat- though slow and distant- it’s strange to hear from something that shouldn’t have human organs anyways.)
Derek lets his eyes slide shut, his last tatters of pride, his ego, crumbling to dust. It starts small. One tear. Two. It doesn't take much until years of agony are spilling forth, completely silent sobbing as it all pours out. But, not just agony. Everything. There is simply too much feeling inside and nowhere left to put it, so it has to go out.
Not that Derek would put it in as many words, but this? Being held, being cherished, respected, valued as a person (and not for what he can do) is healing and grounding in a way he has never experienced before.
Add to that the skin hunger. The need to hold on and never let go, the need to stay put Right Here as strong a need as food or water? Also new, but less so. He has been touch starved before, but never this bad. To this extent. He'll never let go again, if Akestor lets him, he thinks. He is Safe Here, Protected Here.
His instincts, with an internal roar, latch onto Akestor with a might and strength he'd only seen once before. Not as strong as his rotted withered other bond, but Different. Not Mate, but Could-Be-Mate. Packmate, for certain, one he wanted close forever and ever and ever.
Akestor was, firmly, one of His Now. no take-backs. Even if Could-Be-Mate became Not-Mate-Ever, Akestor was His Now. Part Of His Pack For To Be Cherished Protected Safe Safe Safe, the same way Akestor was doing For Him. Because She Cared. Because She Could.
(Her hold on him doesn’t waver. Even as blood eventually soaks into its shirt. It can be washed later, it doesn’t care. She just stays there, breathing, holding, caring.)
(Even as both tears and blood stain its shoulder and clothes, it does not move. And she will stay. For as long as necessary, for as long as wanted.)
(And it hums. Hums again a song he does not know but feels like he will, will with time, will if permitted.)
*There’s someone here… Ria? It looks confused; it doesn’t know where it is. It took a nap, and now it’s… here.*
*Ria’s looking around, a little confused and a little sleepy.*
^-v-^?
—💎🌹
'A child? Here?'
(it crouches where it stands. Waving at her with a patient calm smile. She's in what at first appears to be a garden, though it's a lot more wild than the courts she's used to. No neatly lined garden boxes and preened trees. There's wild flowers and vines and evergreens. It's almost like she's out in the wild, but the golden cathedral that looks above the tree line suggests other wise.)
Hello, dear. Where did you come from? (It keeps its voice light and friendly.) Where are your parents?
“I’m from…” *Ria hesitates. Arcadia? Carcosa? Which one is true? The latter now, right? She even has her own room…* “I’m from Carcosa. Mom’s there. So is Derek. I… think they’re both considered my parents?”
*Ria slow blinks. It isn’t sure if it should be tense from the feeling, or absolutely melt at it. Considering it’s quietly purring, though, it seems to be leaning towards the latter.*
“Ake-Akestor…?” *Ria tests the name, glancing at it to make sure it has the right pronunciation.*
“…Humans find me scary, usually. Carcosa’s the first place people don’t find me scary! And Avery, cuz he doesn’t really live there. It’s part of the reason I like being there so much.”
I doubt humans are afraid of you because you’re scary, dear. Humans have a tendency to fear things they don’t understand. Whether that is something of a different species or their own.
Oh, my dear, that is no fault of your own. Humans can be such cruel creatures. But I can promise that that will never happen to you here.
(He smiles at her, but internally he is.. enraged. She’s only a child, a young girl. It knows humans are cruel at times, but they did not think they would go so far as to harm a child.)
They are scared because they do not understand you. It is not because of you, or how you appear. They do the same to their own people, for things as small as names and genders, it is nothing you could control.
“…They’re not cruel, though. Maybe some of them are. But most of them aren’t. Humans are nice and kind and caring and-and I’ve seen it! I’ve seen them be all of that!”
“Just… not usually to me…”
*Ria hugs itself.*
“But why can’t they understand? Is it just because of what I am?”
*It looks up at Akestor, eyes big and watery.* “Am I not enough for them? Am I not human enough?”
*It’s a monster. It was always a monster. People hurt it because it wasn’t human — because it wasn’t a person. Yes. Yes, it must be Its Fault.*
“…will I ever be enough of a person, Akestor? So they aren’t afraid?”
(..he pulls her into a hug. It’s not constricting, but he’s definitely not happy. It’s light. It doesn’t want her to be frightened.)
Oh you sweet baby. I’m so sorry you were born into such a world. You are right, that humans are not all cruel. But the cruel ones are always the loudest of the bunch.
You do not owe them to be what they want. And I promise you, you are always enough.
(…he’s warm. Warmer than the air, at least. He’s upset. He doesn’t show it.)
*Ria doesn’t fight the hug, melting into it. It’s freezing. Although… its skin starts to warm, quickly matching Akestor’s temperature.*
*It misses when it was allowed to be warm.*
“…They’re not cruel to each other. I watched them.” *Because maybe that time, it will be different. It never was.* “Yes. They were very loud. They had things that went ‘bang!’ and then usually it hurt.”
“But if I’m what they want, then they’ll like me more! And I don’t mind, as long as they like me.”
*It owed Her. It was supposed to be what She wanted. It wasn’t enough then, either.*
You deserve freedom, my love, and to be around people who love you for who you are- not for what you should be.
(…he walks out the forest, closer to a town square. There’s market stalls and food carts and small businesses all dotted around a large fountain. There’s are kids playing in the fountain, and others running around the square.)
(There’s dozens of different types of people. Slimes, hybrids, witches, some that even look more like royalty- albeit more casual. They all intermingle. Some kids look over and wave, and the older kids and adults don’t even seem to pay any mind to The Caretaker’s presence.)
“I’m okay with the safety. It’s… better than the freedom, I think.” *Freedom just got it hurt and made sure it was hungry — it’s safe with Hastur. Happy, too.* “And it’s okay! I’ve made sure they’re the same, so it doesn’t matter lots.”
*As they get closer to the town, Ria holds out its hand for Hand Holding Time. Its eyes dart around, and it presses into Akestor. This is not a child that was well socialized with groups or busy areas, it seems.*
*Ria’s eyes continue to scan each person. Watching and studying and making sure none of them are Moving Weird or going to attack or-*
*…It’s pretty clear that Ria’s a little nervous, at least. It looks like it’s ready to run at one wrong movement.*
(A few kids notice her and wave. Some louder groups look over at her and seem to instinctively quiet. It seems like everyone used to new people being flighty or on edge.. some older ones even nudge younger kids who look over and wave.)
(Some kids even seem to be other vampires, who seem to look over with both surprise and excitement.)
*Ria is… hesitant to wave back. It glances at Akestor, trying to figure out if it should or not. If it’s even allowed to.*
*It’s supposed to, right? To smile and wave and pretend nothing’s wrong? That’s what Mama said she was supposed to do. Greet people nicely. Be nice. Nice and kind and kind and nice and never react wrong ever.*
*It seems unsure of the other vampires — it hasn’t met any others, before. Ria’s wings shift uncomfortably. How is it supposed to react, to others like it?*
*It ends up pressing even further into Akestor. It’s the closest to safety, right now.*
*There’s so many of them. More than it’s used to. More friendly-seeming, too.*
(He leds her to a quiet dark spot near the square. It’s not very crowded, mostly inhabited by birds)
You don’t have to jump into it, but the people here would love to meet you. I promise it. You’re allowed to choose when you’re comfortable, my dear.
(Some groups have started gathering flowers. A few are talking excitedly in hushed tones. Occasionally, some look over to her with wide smiles- who are then pulled back down)
You don’t have to meet people if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure to do it now.
(Though he can tell the others are bursting at the seems to say hi.)
*Ria’s pupils go smaller, adjusting to the light. It stares at the birds for a While, not… fully there.*
*The birds make it sad. Why do the birds make it sad?*
*It trills (the noise oddly birdlike) at some of the birds. A familiar trill, one it learned from… from… a pause. Moea! It learned it from Momea. It misses her. Where did she go? Ria looks a little lost. The almost mournful trilling continues.*
*It doesn’t know why it’s so sad.*
*It snaps out of it when Akestor talks again.*
“…okay. There’s a lot of them. Lots and lots of people… why do they want to meet me, Akestor?”
*Ria glances at the others. Flowers? Why are they gathering flowers? And why do they keep smiling like that at it? It blocks itself from view with a wing adorned with thin white lines. Scarring, it seems.*
*It’s still listening in; keeping track of footsteps. Listening to where each heartbeat is, too.*
*It nods. Up to it… it shakes its head. It’s supposed to do something, isn’t it? It’s supposed to get over itself. Say hi. Introduce.*
*It’s not like it’s a person, anyways. What does it have to fear? People will be nice, or it will deserve it. Right?*
*The trilling certainly isn’t a natural noise for Ria to make. It’s definitely something learned — although it shouldn’t be able to make that noise at all, probably.*
*Ria hesitates. It reads the smile wrong; the words wrong. It smiles back, looking as natural as it can. Okay. Okay, it can do this.*
I will be right here, I will not leave you my dear.
(He hums, wondering from what life this child has come from to lead to such behaviour. It’s aware of bits of information- the child… poor choice of parental figure- but even that should not lead such.. strong formation of habits.)
(The kids, ranging from 16 to 20, are collectively trying to make a little collection of wild flowers and a flower crown out of red poppies.)
*It takes a few hesitant steps forward, before skittering back over to Akestor. It peers out at the group from behind gold.*
*…It’s watching them weave the flowers into the crown. Once again, it starts to approach. It grabs Akestor’s hand as it moves, bringing them along as best it can. Moving towards the ones weaving the flowers.*
“Can I try…? I know how to make flower crowns…”
*It doesn’t like all the eyes on it.*
*It shakes its head; the flower crown can’t be for it. It’s not the right size for around its neck, or to wrap around its arm or something. And it… wouldn’t be able to keep it on its head for very long. Ria shoots Akestor a worried look. But it’s okay. It will figure… something out.*
(He follows along happily. As long as she’s comfortable)
(One girl gasps, another next to her nudges her in the side. The one trying to weave the flowers in looks up in mildly contained surprise)
“Oh! Uh! Well it was supposed to be for you… but, but if you want to, sure! I.. think I’m doing it wrong..” (He laughs somewhat awkwardly, rubbing the back of their neck.)
*Ria flinches back at the gasping and nudging and attention, pressing itself into Akestor.*
*Did it get smaller, or is it just holding itself weird?*
“…It’s okay. I don’t like things on my hair all that much. It feels funny…” *Ria shakes its head, stepping forward again. It sits next to the one weaving, a little tense. It’s still ready to run.*
(The kid nudges the girl again, a “see you made her scared!” Being whispered between the two. The girl pokes her fingers together in a sheepish manner- though the berating seems to be in good fun.)
“Sure!” (He hands her the crown with a smile.)
(A small conversation is spurred between another kid and the girl. They seem to keep their voices low- or at least lower, trying to not overwhelm her.) “Oh dang it.. well there goes that idea..” “oh oh, we could make a bigger one? Like a necklace instead! Right?” “Do we have enough flowers? I liked the poppies because they matched her hair..”
*Ria pretends not to see; pretends not to hear. That’s easier. It’s always been so much easier.*
*Just don’t listen to the whispers. You’ll be fine.*
*Ria smiles back. It’s… bright. A large smile, for sure. It looks easy — natural, even. Carefully, it takes the crown, then the flowers.*
*Its hands move quickly. A few flowers taken out here and there, the whole crown adjusted. A few flowers are added, too. It’s eyed, rather than counted — some flowers are bigger than others. They need more space. Some are better when placed closer to others. Sometimes, the space is too one-note, and it needs something else. Other times, it’s fine.*
*The flower crown is adjusted a few times, until Ria decides it’s good enough. It hands it back, glancing at Akestor.*
*Its ears twitch. Don’t listen to what they’re saying. It’s better if you don’t. Safer. Easier.*
“Woah… how’d you do that so quickly!” (Other kids also pause to go “ooooo” at Ria talent.)
(He takes it, tentatively, holding it up to look at it)
“It’s so perfect!” “It’s way prettier than what I make..” “could you teach us? Pretty please!”
(Akestor is smiling. It’s so, so happy the kids love her so much. The kids have very quickly quieted down, all looking at her handy work with amazement.)
*Ria tilts its head. It thought it was going kind of slow…* “…Practice, I guess. I didn’t have lots else to do…” *It shrinks back a bit at all the attention, unsure of how to take it. This is an… odd situation to it. Such amounts of attention are supposed to only happen if Ria’s being showed off, or if something big or important happens…*
*It perks up upon hearing the word ‘perfect’. Guilt fills it immediately after. They think that is perfect?*
*It nods.* “Uhm… yeah, okay. You’re gonna want flowers with longer stems, but not thinner stems. It’ll be easier with only one type of flower, too. So there’s only one stem, and you don’t gotta worry about them all matching…”
*Ria nudges the kid, carefully.* “Maybe you could give it to Akestor? They might want it, if none of you do….”
(..one girl nudges the other, who sighs and very gently tugs on ria’s sleeve. She’s a black haired girl, with pale skin and red eyes. She’s another vampire, by the looks of it.)
“Uhm.. you’re.. a vampire, right?”
(She’s very quiet- seems almost afraid to speak loudly. Her friend next to her- a slimehybrid with bright orange eyes- is silent cheering her on.)
*Ria tenses up. Its wings press in at the question, pupils going small. It makes them look more slitted, rather than the rounded look its pupils normally take on.*
“I-“
*It looks between the two of them. The slime doesn’t comfort it much; it’s Avery is a human, and it hasn’t met any slimes before.*
“I…” *It nods.* “I am, yeah… why?” ^•n•>?
*It… takes a few moments for it to click for Ria. It hasn’t spent any time around other vampires, and it hasn’t focused much on its… changes after being turned. Once it does realize, though…*
(She smiles- it matches her timid voice, like it’s afraid to be visible.)
“So am I!”
(Her friend pats her shoulder with a “see, I told you it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”)
(Akestor watches with a smile, now also with a flower crown on its head. The boy- an avian hybrid with light green feathers and green eyes smiles as well)
“There are? Huh…” *It blinks, confused once more.* “Are we… not supposed to have wings, then?
*Ria hops up on its own. It’s a fluid movement.*
“…Please don’t grab me…” ^•n•^”
*It pauses, staring at Nori. Big Stare.* “I know someone who goes by Nori. They’re a nice bunny. They like lettuce.” *It has decided that this Nori is not, in fact, a bunny. This makes it sad. It likes bunnies.* “I’m Ria.”
*That means Ria is about in the middle of their heights, at 5’5. It’s in the middle age-wise, too, probably.*
“Oh- no, no, not that! There’s a bunch of different types of vampires.. no one’s quite the same, uhm, some have wings some don’t, some don’t like the sun, others aren’t bothered-”
“THERES A BUNNY ME?” (Charlie flinches backwards and Nori coughs and quiets down) “uh sorry- I looovee bunnies..”
“The sun usually hurts me. It doesn’t in Carcosa, though, for some reason.” *Ria’s gotten plenty of burns from the space between leaves, when it thought it was safe…* “Do vampires without wings usually make the sun less angry?”
*Ria squeaks, ears twitching. Its wings twitch as well, but they remain mostly folded. They got a bit unfolded in the movement.*
“Uh-huh! Well… I don’t think you and my Nori are the same. I had to help them with her name…” *It nods.* “Bunnies are the best! Like Sable! It’s super sweet!”
“You have bunnniess?? Omg.. can I see them? Pretty please? Pretty pretty please??” (Nori is looking at her with the Widest Puppy Dog eyes she can manage.)
“Oh.. if you get burned you could borrow my sunscreen.. or- or not, maybe that’s weird..? Uhm.. never mind.” (Charlie quiets down, apparently deciding she’s said too much. Nori nudges her)
“Heyyyy, didn’t we think it’d be cool to show her the café?”
“Oh! Oh, right, uhm.. there’s a cool little vampire café aunt Julie made.. if- if it’s okay- I wanna show you it”
*Ria pauses, glancing at Sable on its shoulder. It shifts its hair to better show the bungon.* “This is Sable! The bunny-Nori isn’t with me. I don’t think either of them are ‘mine’, though. They’re just my friends!”
*It tilts its head. Isn’t sunscreen supposed to be used before burning?* “It’s okay! I’m super good at staying in the shade! And… I think I would’ve burned by now, if I was gonna…”
*Another pause. Ria looks over to Akestor, as though making sure it’s okay to go.* “What’s a vampire café?”
(Akestor smiles at her encouragingly. Nori coos at Sable.)
“Oh, well it’s like.. it’s like a normal cafe, but it’s catered towards vampires! They have blood there, and foods made specifically for vampires, so like.. it has blood In it..”
*Avery lets out a pitiful trill, squeezing his eyes closed.*
I’m sorry imsorryimsorryimsorry-
*His words are barely heard, his body trembling even more.*
- ✒️🪽
He has not, in fact, preened his wings. His dad did, though, and Der too. But… Der’s gone. And Avery’s wings were the punishment for his involvement.
(Avid and The Caretaker share a quick glance. They aren’t surprised, these kinds of states are quite common for people to show up in- unfortunately- but more worryingly is that it will be challenging to heal him if he’s adverse to people getting near his wings)
(Avid taps his fingers on the clipboard, before slipping out of the room.)
..avery, please calm down. No one’s doing anything until you’re okay with it.
(Its tail swishes, agitated. It’s not going to pressure him, but the faster they can fix his wings the less likely they are to get infected or further damaged.)
♪— A small child with chains appears, it prince outfit slightly massy — tentacles ripped heavily from the sharp edges of the chains. The child looks around confused, he never been out of the void before.
— @1he-l0st-ki4g
Child? Dear?
Oh dearie me.. what a state for you to be in..
(A person appears in front of him- regal, yet almost motherly. It’s concerned, its face scrunched in focus and worry.)
Hello, my dear. (It pulls its face into a smile.) why are you alone?
♪— The chains have a mix of Greek and latin written all over, easier to see up close than from afar, clearly rushed writing. ❝. . .I always been alone really. . .❞ it said in a whisper, voice weak. It hurts for it to speak.
♪— The Prince slowly crawls over, the chains heavy and making it hard to move well. ❝. . .I don't remember how I got like this. . .❞ it face is seen better — just a empty and simple black void.
(It gently pats his head, trying to alleviate the weight or pain..)
Is it alright if i pick you up, my dear?
(It eyes the chains on it. Its latin and greek, two languages it knows quite well. It hopes to gain some insight onto what kind of enchantment the chains have- hopefully to learn why they’re there or how to remove them..)
(It picks flower up into his arms. Cradling him ever so gently. He speaks to it calmly and softly.)
It’s alright, now. Let’s see if we can help you out a bit, yeah? You’re safe here, I promise you that.
(If the chains are a necessity, Caretaker at least hopes to maybe transfer the spells to something lighter… a child should be allowed to move freely, not be bound up all the time.)
♪— The Prince is a bit heavy from the chains on goldself, ❝. . .Okay. . .❞ it said weakly. The chains are slightly able to read — saying " Bound this soul to earth and soil, break their hope and spirit..... " the rest of the spell is hard to read but maybe a different chain will give out the rest.
(He carries him to the chapels living quarters. He places it gently a couch. It inspects the chains a bit closer.)
(Maybe it could switch them out for fabric tassels. Those have worked previously. They have quite the collection of binding spells and containment spells, and sage paper is wildly available for the witches..)
(It shifts the chains- both to get a look at them, and to carefully cover sharp points and corners of each. Perks of being made of what’s effectively solid jello, I guess)
(A small golden panel floats in the air. They write something, tap something, and then the panel disappears into glitter)
♪— ❝. . .Yay!. . .❞ it said, not minding the covering of the sharper parts of the chains.
♪— A part of the chain is able to fully read, saying " Bound this soul to earth and soil, break their hope and spirit, weakened them until they are nothing but a empty shell, let them rot away " The spell! But . . . now to figure out to remove the spell.
(He hums.. suddenly getting rid of a a spell all at once can be dangerous or jarring, so now that he has the full spell, the next goal is either to lessen it via removing bits at a time, or completely replacing it.)
(…once it’s sure that the child is more comfortable and not in pain, it stands and creates another panel.)
[it’s a note to witches and alchemists. It lists both the spell and what it’s made on. While it knows how to do things like this, he would rather leave it to professionals who have experience with both altering and making binding spells.]
Well, my love. Let’s see what the cooks have made, yes?
(He scoops The Prince back up, humming)
(The dining area is surprisingly quaint. It’s not overly fancy, but it’s obviously made to house many people at once. Instead of large tables to hold many, it’s set up closer to a restaurant. Smaller tables dotted around with some cushioned tables along the walls.)
(Eventually, someone brings out plates of food. They coo at the prince before leaving the two be)
♪— There is simple spaghetti with meatballs, red sauce and all. The Prince looks to the food — confused how to eat it or what it is, he never had spaghetti before or from what it knows.
♪— The Prince watches closely — following with the fork part. Gold stares at the pasta on the fork, then it summons a inky yellow mouth, biting down and eating the pasta.
(The Caretaker sits back, watching it with a smile. It hums, thinking again on what to do.. he isn’t sure whether to try and return the child home or not. If gold even has one.)
what kind of place to live would this be without things to do? The city square is usually quite lively this time of day. There lots of things to do as well.
(He snaps, the empty plates disappear, and it walks out of the dinning hall.)
(Outside of the glass doors is the view of the town. The golden sun bathes everything in a soft Yellow-orange light. The city centre is shaped in a semi circle around the Cathedral, busy already with families and people and kids all just existing without worry.)
*Avery lets out a pitiful trill, squeezing his eyes closed.*
I’m sorry imsorryimsorryimsorry-
*His words are barely heard, his body trembling even more.*
- ✒️🪽
He has not, in fact, preened his wings. His dad did, though, and Der too. But… Der’s gone. And Avery’s wings were the punishment for his involvement.
(Avid and The Caretaker share a quick glance. They aren’t surprised, these kinds of states are quite common for people to show up in- unfortunately- but more worryingly is that it will be challenging to heal him if he’s adverse to people getting near his wings)
(Avid taps his fingers on the clipboard, before slipping out of the room.)
..avery, please calm down. No one’s doing anything until you’re okay with it.
((RP Starter for @dear-gold-carcossa based on My Own Fic lol))
Everything hurt. Wings, horns, eyes, body. Muscles ached, screamed in agony as the nerves within rioted.
He was seizing, body rejecting the merge as the King fought to escape the prison of his body.
"You should not have done this. You will not survive."
"Yeah, well." He peered into the infinity he had access to, watched it shrink in real time, and
R
E
A
C
H
E
D
for help. For assistance, from anyone, anywhere, anywhen.
A long shot. A hope. A prayer. The mortal urge to continue living despite the odds.
Despite the losses already accrued.
Avery's splattered corpse would forever coat the bottom of the realm, a mess of green paste, staining the inky blackness until it too faded away, as all things would eventually.
Hands, looming, large, took his head and smashed it into the ground.
Helmet, flung to the side.
Horns, shattered irreparably.
All he had was small, shattered fragments of Hope.
(But something does. Something gold. Something bright. Almost too bright.)
(It’s blinding, the room being bathed instantaneously in a white gold light, light that dims to show… Something. Humanoid, almost. It doesn’t touch the ground, large glowing wings rest in the air- not even in use- it’s simply hovering there. It laughs, though it sounds closer to a hum.)
Didn’t someone teach you not to break your toys?
(There’s something in its hand.. it’s hard to see until it moves it to his right. It’s a sword, golden and shimmery and hard to look away from.)
(The figure disappears- and Derek is carefully, gently, lifted into something’s arms… it’s warm.. he’s wrapped in wings..)
What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor innocent soul
But, when faced with the brilliance of what could only be an angel, with wings that hurt his head to even ponder, let alone perceive, sent from a deity he didn't believe in.
Well.
One finds their core beliefs shaken loose.
Would it make sense for the Christian God to be another figment of the King in Yellow? Or, was it simply the delirium of a head wound, loss of his not-mate, the certainty of death shattered by the saving? Or, was he already dead, and this his last moments showing a savior that did not exist?
Were it the latter, would he not go to the Christian Hell instead, for his failure to save the one who mattered?
The sword (which angel had a sword again? was it Gabriel? Or was it Raphael? the ramblings of his religion-obsessed little sister did not help him here) seemed to banish the King. Or, perhaps, scattered it from whence it came.
Was he not still tied to it? Could it not harm him from anywhere, anywhen, because of the spell?
He didn't know.
He is lifted into the arms of the angel, his head lolling uselessly to the side, a whine of pain leaving him even as hands inch uselessly towards helm and horn alike. They are small things, but. Special. Important.
He is... Is he safe? He is still here, he cannot be safe until he is gone or he is dead.
"A... ver... y...?" His throat is dry and scratchy from screaming, from dehydration, from the bruising grip on it only moments before. Can the angel save Avery?
(He hums, face shadowed. The.. crown? On its head is reminiscent.. but it looks at Derek, and smiles. It’s warm. A hand carefully holds Derek’s head, gently brushing hair and blood off his face.)
Hello, my dear.
(Wings fold up and disappear into the air. Two stay wrapped around Derek and It. Something opens under Derek’s helm and it falls into whiteness.)
(..it doesn’t know where the king is. But it’s gone for now and it’ll take that. It takes the situation into account. Avery is somewhere in the void- not a hard fix, though for now the priority is getting Derek safely in haven and away from here. It’s glad it has so many empty rooms and houses.)
Do not fret. He will not be left here. I will do what I can, my star.
(There’s something in front of it- Derek can’t get a good look, but it glows with that same gold white. The two enter- and for a second everything is white. Too white, before it gently covers his eyes)
Wings, soft and real, wrap around him. Memories, long-forgotten - different wings, different people, different situations. Purpose the same. Protect, protect, protect, from that which would harm.
The Angel calls him it's dear, calls him it's star. Promises Avery will not be left behind.
That his eyes are covered means nothing. He has already Seen--
--Seen Eyes and Wings and Thrashing Inky Blackness, Vastness and Nothingness, Creation and Destruction, the Big Bang and the Cosmic Separation, Black Holes consuming Stars, Quasars spawning Stars, Life and Death, Creation and Destruction, Birth of Beloved Child, Death of Despised Politician, the Looming Evil Of All, The Cradling Hand Of Benevolence And Kindness, Rise of Civilizations Before His Time, Collapse of Alien Races After His Time, Cycle Beginning Anew, Cycle Ending Again, Over and Over and Over and Over--
Inside, where the Knowledge Lay, Corrupted and Rotting, a second sliver of the Knowledge, Eternal, claimed a home and a space.
All he can do is whimper at his soul re-arranging, making room for more of what he should not be able to contain.
The eye that bleeds, that aches, flashes the same gold-white as the Angel. Not that Derek knows this.
(He hums. It’s a song Derek doesn’t recognise. It makes something in his mind cloud- like it’s stuffed with gauze and cotton. The white subsides. And the bright is replace with warm orange. He hears forest- birds, squirrels, the sounds of things scampering and a distant river. And the hand over his eyes is removed.)
(He’s warm. Even has the wings finally fold and dissipate into the air.)
Home. (It’s a whispered word… it sounds relieved.)
Derek's mind clouds, dampens. The excess knowledge (not the new, the Rot) seems syphoned by the stuffing. Or, perhaps, it is the concussion that he can now acknowledge. He would never know.
The underground silence replaced with bird-song, bugs going places, is loud in comparison to the silence.
His Angel whispers a word that he does not, will not acknowledge.
Home was left at the bottom of the void but did his Angel not promise Avery's safe return?
He cannot keep consciousness much longer; even with it all, the change in location is enough for his body to decide he is safe now. Can rest now.
It is all he can to do weakly grab one of the hands that held him, murmuring something that could have been thanks but could also be a grumbled whine from the sun hitting his face, before passing out.
(It hums at the last sentence. It’s an accurate statement, and one it holds to. But it doesn’t like it. It needs something new- something that produces the same effect, just.. different.)
[]
(He’s somewhere warm, noticeably different from the outside- it’s soft underneath him, the sun filters through a red curtain. He can hear people outside.. laughter, chatting, people having fun.)
(…meanwhile, The Caretaker is back in the caves. The void is penetrated by a bright light, though He can see just fine. It doesn’t need a lot to get someone back, just the small vial it had on hand. It hums the same song again, speaking to nothing)
He dreams of a lightless void, of a being so vast and so old it had hand-placed stars within that void. Of individual starts twinkling out, of their lifespans ending, and of new stars taking their place. He dreams of stars drifting away from the void. He dreams of stars to-ing and fro-ing from the void.
He dreams of the void becoming lighter, brighter, of the Core Of It All becoming less a void and more a star unto itself. Of being the hearth of the home.
He dreams of two new stars. One, purple, but blemished. Tainted. Thread pulling from outside the void, yet equally, thread within, tying to that hearth. A second, a weak flickering green, shuttering as though it weren't certain it wanted to gutter out or stay afloat.
Then, the dream fades. Replaced with aches all over, yet on the comfiest cloud he's ever known. Of a head full of stabbing pain, of knowledge he ought not know, yet. Of an eye covered in something.
And yet.
He doesn't wake scared.
He wakes full of motion.
Stillness, when waking, had gotten him caught on more than one occasion.
He moves, not yet awake yet not fully sleeping, creeping on silent feet as his brain catalogues the sound and then dismisses. The Goal: Survival.
Is His Enemy Here?
The pause.
...
No.
He does not feel hunted. Does not feel like prey. Still half asleep, he returns to the bed, curls back up within its protection, and allows himself the luxury of waking slowly. Of properly acknowledging his situation.
Somehow, he's in a comfy bed. The comfiest he's ever slept on ever, including his knight days don't think about it. The room, prepared to help someone wounded rest and recover. The curtains, in the same shade of red as his beloved cape. His armor, cleaned and repaired as best someone could to such a battered set, placed carefully upon a dresser.
His wings, bandaged and splinted.
He refuses to look in a mirror.
Within the void, the Caretaker receives nothing but impressions from the one left behind. Love, Affection, concern for Red/Purple. Acceptance of Situation.
Request. Protect/Preserve/Love for Red/Purple?
Request. Safety/Happiness/Affection for Red/Purple?
Green hoped Yellow would agree.
Staying behind was Hard/Difficult/Scary.
Would Yellow Protect/Preserve/Love/Safety/Affection that which Yellow borrowed from Green?
(It hmms and hums. It caps the small vial he had in his hands. Its gold and decorated and seems to shine.)
I promised that both he and you would be safe. I intend to keep that promise.
(…he may be rushing, just a tad. It shows no sign of worry or concern, but internally he is wanting to return back as soon as possible. It doesn’t want to leave Its dearest alone too long.)
[]
(When it returns, it appears back in the Cathedral. It’s a large building, gold and bright and open. Theres windows on every wall, and plants in every open space. Vines crawl along walls and the ceiling, and some parts of the floor are more moss than tile.)
(It would almost seem abandoned, if not for the way the plants are carefully cared for a preened and the walls and floor that are visible are meticulously maintained. Golden sun spills through skylights)
(…he slips into the only room that’s locked to the outside.)
[]
(Derek’s room is within the cathedral. It’s made to not mimic his own, but at least resemble it. There are bookshelves and wall shelves on most walls, a pc set up on one end. And there are two doors- not gold doors, but the handles are gold. One leads out, the other to a bathroom.)
(The room itself is dark and soft. It’s bright, but the walls and floor are made of a deep, dark wood, and there a soft green rug on the floor. It’s patterned with daisies.. The bed itself feels too large for just one person. Theres a vase with flowers and a clock on the bedside table. It’s some time past noon. There’s a small note on the table as well.)
Keep Red/Purple Safe/Happy/Loved, Yellow. For Green.
Green never knew what Yellow needed from Remains/Reminder/Leftover. Perhaps, with time, Green would know.
Green was... Tired.
Farewell, Yellow and Red/Purple.
-------
Derek hears footsteps echo outside the room he is in, and he pretends to still be sleeping. Still be resting.
The footsteps, they do not pause outside the door. Merely continue onwards.
He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and with a sigh properly assesses himself.
He is... Coated in bandages, ice packs, various goops and medicinal remedies and things. Almost every inch of him is slathered in some kind of something.
He knew he'd gotten messed up in the... He didn't even know how long he'd been down there anymore, but ALL of him?
He felt something pulse in the back of his head, a door where once had been a gaping maw of knowledge. A door... Locked?
No.
Not locked.
Merely protective. He willed it open a crack, and--
From the outside, saw the vastness of a Cathedral except that wasn't quite right and the zoom in on the space He Occupied--
Derek gently, but firmly, closed the door.
Later problem.
Finally, he takes note of the note. Now that he's acknowledging the damage, it hurts, so shuffling around to reach it is a struggle.
Eventually, he nabs the paper, and sets about trying to read through a concussion and the fact that moving seemed to make the world spin on its axis.
(My Dearest Star: I hope the room meets expectations. The books and trinkets on your shelves should hopefully match what you had previously. If you require anything do not hesitate to call for me. Notify me if you are missing anything)
(It’s signed with a small print of a crown and a heart, and a cursive ‘Akestor’)
[]
(…Akestor leans over a large desk. He doesn’t sit down on the chair placed by it, instead he’s lumped over papers scattered across the surface. There’s paper it though he would never have to get these papers out- or at least he hoped he wouldn’t.)
(..he’s done this before- bringing back matter is easy when you have some of it on hand and it once existed. Though this is different that before. Avery’s soul is not close by, nor is it ready to return. It would rather do more research to make sure nothing goes wrong.)
... Now that the note has pointed it out, they did match. Didn't smell the same wrong wrong not his things not his hoard but were similar enough for the thought to count. He suppose that he, himself, is the star in question. A nickname, maybe? Or maybe it had to do with his weird dream. Maybe his degrees?
The only way to know would be to meet the Angel, this Akestor, himself.
He is blatantly ignoring the fact that the doodled crown is setting off alarm bells in his head.
So, with a sigh, he climbs to his feet once again. This time, noticing that, while his armor is off, that his savior had put him in soft boxers and a tank top, with slits for his wings. All in his beloved cape's red.
Still, semantics. There is a goal to be achieved, and that goal is exploration. Even with his limbs in screaming agony, he will explore. He cannot be contained!
He pads to the doors. The first one he tries is the exit into the hall. Tentatively, on bare and silent feet, he pads out into the hall, sticking to the edge and looking all around.
This place.... It's beautiful. Even here, in what he can only assume is living quarters, is beautiful. Full of yellow (another point towards his unease), but stunningly beautiful in a way he couldn't quite vocalize even if he tried.
He picks a direct and wanders, one hand on the wall to steady himself as he goes.
(It opens to what seems like a courtyard. There’s fruit trees and flower bushes and.. children. Ranging from 5 to 17. They aren’t doing much in particular, it seems like they’re all just.. existing. There’s different species, some are birds, humans, cats, slimes, enderians.)
(..despite this, the place doesn’t feel crowded. There’s a small pathway that cuts through the garden.)
(..The Caretaker is being effectively ganged up on by kids. She’s sitting in a flower field, carefully leaning as one places a flower crown on its head. It seems she’s teaching them all how to make flower crowns.. the other kids scattered around it are diligently working away trying to make crowns using the various flowers. Some are teaching other kids, others are just running around it.)
(Caretaker’s switched the previous outfit for one more… casual. It has a skirt on, and has traded the heels for simple heelless socks. Someone’s put flowers in her hair. …it looks.. calm. Though Derek can See its tired. Somethings eating at it.)
The presence of children stops him dead. He assesses each one...
They all look so happy. Relaxing, to-ing and fro-ing, he's caught wind of at least one plan to play tag among the littles.
He eases off of the wall, padding on bare feet down the (rather well maintained) path (designed to not catch little feet, he notices. He is starting to wonder if this is simply a nest on a grander scale than first appears), emerging eventually in the flower field with the largest conglomerate of children he has seen anywhere other than a school playground. All, it seemed, centered around...
Well, his memory is a little fuzzy, but whoever it is looks enough like the Angel that saved him that he can really only come to one conclusion. This must be Akestor, themselves.
He hesitates by his pathway, suddenly far less certain than when he had left his rooms. If there were happy children, happy hatchlings, then he simply couldn't be somewhere designed by It to harm him. So... What did that leave him. He couldn't be dead, because his Avery would be there...
He doesn't get much more time to think when a child that had been using Akestor as a comfy resting spot, pointed him out to them, with soft words he couldn't quite make out.
Akestor... Now that he's looking closer, seemed worried. About what, he didn't know. Maybe one of the Hatchlings was having an issue?
(She looks up, a tad surprised. It gently picks the child up- patting the other on the head- and stands. It calmly, yet a tad panicked, pads over to Derek. …it moves so smoothly over the stone pathways, like she’s gliding not walking. The train of its skirt trails after it, leaving small sparkles on the ground that dissipate into the air.)
My star, you should not be up and moving- you are still injured, we only just finished patching you up, what if you tripped?
(..the kids watch on at the two with looks and a few share hushed words. The looks on their faces are distinctly that of “ooooo’s” and giggles. Some of the older kids usher others away.)
(She has been dragged out of her office a few moments prior. The others had gathered to force it to take a break. …it still has research to do, but she’s at least glad it caught Derek before he could wander too far and harm himself.)
The... Panic? Concern? Baffles him. Really, why him? He's not that special.
Still, Akestor had gone through the trouble of saving him, so perhaps it was to not let that hard work go to waste?
"If I'd tripped, then I'd have tripped. It would have been fine." Even as he says so, based on the bandaging and the pastes and the like on him, he knows that that wouldn't entirely be the case. In his head, he can see that it would... Strain some already strained parts of him. Perhaps even damage a wing more. Interesting, though, that it was so clear.
"While I appreciate the concern, I am fine. Thank you, though, for your help. It... Was you that saved me, yes?" To... Some definition of fine, perhaps. If your baseline is did I get a restful sleep and hurt less than normal then yes, he is fine. To... Any other definition, he is not fine. Far more important is confirming without a doubt that this was his Angel, the Akestor that saved him. Their calling him star was clue enough, but he had to make extra certain.
Though, something inside knew already. Especially given the... Shapeless black mass behind them, that the children seemed to pass through as though it weren't there, tendrils draped across shoulders and patting heads as kiddos darted around.
He takes note of the children scampering off, out to play tag or something, perhaps? Or maybe the older children saw his bandaged self and decided to draw the littles away. No matter.
You would still be hurt, and I cannot have that. Apologise, but no, you may wander about and explore when I trust that you will not be at risk of further injury.
(It scoops him up again, with so little effort like he weighed nothing.)
I do not want to lock your door, but I will if I must. What if you pulled something, or knocked a bandage loose? Or heavens forbid got lost?
(..she sounds exasperated. She walks him all the way back through the corridors, going over all the possible ways he could’ve gotten injured the whole time. )
The squawk he made upon getting scooped like he weighs nothing is not one he will admit to making. No, no sounds from him.
He already knows the children who heard it are giggling, can see the laughter and shaking shoulders, and knows he won't live the sound down. At least, until something more interesting for them comes around.
"I would be fine - was, in fact fine." He insists, once the shock of getting scooped like a particularly naughty kitten has subsided. "I'm grown, I can take care of myself."
And yet, he makes no move to get out of the arms that carried him. Not being on his feet felt far better to his aching body than being on them, at least for the time being.
He also makes no move to halt the, clearly stress-induced, ramblings coming from Akestor (he has, in his head, decided this is that Akestor). Perhaps something else has gone awry, and he's simply the present target? Besides, his only comeback is that those things are also entirely plausible to happen within the room he was given. Which... Is not the comeback one ought to have in this kind of situation. Not really. So, instead, he opts for a different question.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but what's with the... Shapeless black shape behind you? I don't mind, I can't exactly feel it, but it's been petting my head since you picked me up, and it was patting the children's heads as they wandered around you."
"I mean. I was looking at you before you covered my eyes. Felt kinda like when I looked at, uh. You know. But less stabbing pain. It was... Beautiful, honestly. I'm assuming it's residual from that?" He reaches up an arm to, not touch (because he can't) but lay a palm almost directly where the tendril that had been petting his head had stilled when the question had been asked.
He drops with an oof sound, landing... Not so gracefully on the mattress, cringing when a wing is jammed from the poor landing. Not that he's saying shit about it.
And then he registers Akestor's question, and he goes from calm and relaxed to flushed purple. Quickly, he grabs a blanket to cover the boxers - not that it mattered, he'd been exploring outside in them, but it was the tone that made him feel small.
"N-no, I'm not cold. The stuff here, it's not mine." A weak excuse at best, but quite frankly he's not going to admit that he was still half convinced he was dead and this was some kind of in-between or something.
(..the blackness and void part and seem to avoid him. It curls in on itself in an almost embarrassed manner… whatever it is, it almost seems to act like a ‘tail’ does- responding to subconscious thoughts and emotions that Akestor either does not feel or does not acknowledge)
(She’s going to swiftly ignore the previous statement. To unpack Later but sure as hell Not Now. ..It can’t help but quietly laugh at his reaction.)
No, no the things in this room are in fact yours. That includes the bathroom off to the side, as well. What is the point of a room made to your liking if it is not yours?
(File away ‘issues with possessions’ into behavioural file.)
When It laughs at him, he notices the black shapeless void wiggles a little. Like a cat's tail, almost, except on a larger and less physical scale.
"... It's not mine." Statement. It is similar, and he appreciates the attempt to get close, but. It's not his. Case in point, the items he knew weren't put there for him. They hurt a spot inside that he's not acknowledging because Avery is dead dead dead gone forever and it it screaming in agony but there is nothing he can do for it except let time fix the damage.
"It might be a dragon thing," He admits, because he refuses to be rude when he doesn't have to be and because someone went through some effort for him. "But they're not mine-mine, if that makes any sense. They're close to what I had, which I do appreciate. But also, they're... Generically mine? Like, essence of me, and not this version of me. If that makes sense."
And... Upon closer look at the trinkets and books and things, he is not wrong. Lots for mechanics, for programming. For interests mixed in that belong to Avery someone else. But. There's no astronomy, no astrophysics. No old training manuals from his knight days. No seven copies of his dissertation covered in red ink and scrawling handwriting.
No case file kept in a plain box somewhere obvious and visible to haunt him.
"I just... It's a very good replica of a hoard. But it's not my hoard."
It’s possible I missed things, but it also appears you haven’t really taken the time to actually.. look around?
…if you want, when you are properly healed, you are free to.. return. To get your things or… stay. But- here, these things are yours, think of them as gifts.
(She’ll admit, she left some things out.. more on purpose. It doesn’t know everything he had or has, at least not entirely. What it knows is feelings tied to objects, and… well she definitely omitted some of the less pleasant items.)
And he did clock the hesitation about him returning. But, that led to his own thoughts.
Returning... Meant that doing so was possible. Meant that he wasn't dead. Meant that he was alive, properly alive and not just going through the motions.
... Did he even want to go back? Without Avery, he didn't have much to live for back there, except for his hoard. Which was an honestly pitiful thing. He would be better served starting anew.
He realized he'd been silent for too long, shook his head to clear it.
"Sorry - was just... Thinking. Um. Thank you, for the... Everything here, really." Now that he could settle in the knowledge that the things here were supposed to be his and Avery's, supposed to be kept and used, something inside... Not settled, but soothed.
Someone had paid enough attention to have a clue about what he liked, and had gone through this effort to try and make him feel more at ease. And he had a feeling that someone was Akestor themselves.
"I don't think I thanked you for saving me. Um. I... Appreciate it. I don't... Know how to repay you for all this."
…you don’t need to. Just you being healthy and safe is enough for me.
(It hums. Tail(s) swaying idly behind her as it tries to think of what to say that would be… normal. New information swirls in its head but bringing that up would be.. strange, to say the least.)
Part of you being healthy means you healing, mind you. Which also means resting and not straining yourself. Like sleeping, which you look like you haven’t properly done in months.
Healthy and safe? In this economy? Less like than he'd think.
He clocks the goop swishing, and his brain can only tie the movement to a cat's tail. If he looks at the inky blackness like that... Well. It's a framework that could work.
"Uh." Well. "You... Don't know?" How does one explain that being hunted for sport included not sleeping At All until he dropped?
You dive in without thinking about what you're saying, if he's taking a page from Avery's don'tthinkaboutit book.
"I thought being hunted until you dropped and being woken up or maimed was a normal part of dealing with Him? Is it... Not?"
..... Well. Generally, no. Though I suppose it's wrong to ignore the possibility of it. Usually it is not so... Feral. But, you do not have to worry about that here, so please take a moment to actually rest and sleep.
(she needs to get back to figuring out Avery's body. Faster it can get that research done the faster it can get back into their world and deal with that king.)
Nothing about what he had lived through was normal, it seems. Even in a world where he could potentially run into other versions of himself, he was still an oddity. An outlier.
On the outside looking in, once again, how he hadn't missed it.
"... Oh." His whole form droops with the weight of the knowing. Realistically, some piece of his mind knew that being hunted the way he had been was abnormal for a being known as a great old one, but still.
Though, that brought forth a new question. Could he sleep here, as he was?
...
No.
No, he hadn't used enough energy for his body to accept sleep, even if he wanted it to. He used to be able to sleep on command, but now he was hard wired to sleep lightly and jump awake at any odd sound. Besides, it's not like you could rest without sleeping.
"I'm... Not sure if I can." Is what he says, after a lengthy pause. "I don't... If you look, you'll know why. So, look. I don't know how to explain this right." It would... Also confirm if his savior was a version of Him. If they could do it. But, they had been nothing but kind, so perhaps different was good.
It’s alright. Everyone here is different from each other in some way or another. I assure you, you are not the only one with a similar story. Nor will you be the worst off, as unfortunate as that is.
(She smiles, apologetically.)
…only if you are absolutely certain. It is not my place to know, nor to invade the privacy of memories. So, only if you are certain you are okay with it.
(It looks almost.. sad? Or worried? Maybe some combination of both. It raises a hand, a quiet offer.)
So Akestor was a version of Him after all. That it didn't immediately look spoke well of it, but still.
No, that was unkind.
It had heard his call, had saved him, and (if he was being honest with himself) ensured he was in the least amount of pain he'd been in... Since a few months after he'd been down there. Seemed invested in his health and happiness.
Perhaps there was something wrong with his version of the King. Perhaps they were all supposed to be like Akestor - getting the knowledge a second time hadn't hurt at all (or maybe was overshadowed by the head trauma).
He knew his answer.
At least he wouldn't be alone in the knowing.
"How does it work?" He asks, taking the offered hand. Tentatively, yes, but he takes it nonetheless and lets the touch ground him. How long has it been since he's willingly touched someone? "Do I just, say yes and you know, or do I have to relive it all?" That he would, was willing to do so, said more about his character than he was willing to admit. At least, it did if you knew his history.
No, no not at all. You need not do anything, it won’t take long. Though I do warn you, I may heat up.
(She clasps its other hand over his, keeping a warm smile on its face.)
(“Perhaps there was something wrong with his version of the king.” An accurate statement, not that either of them knew. That would take more research and time than she had on hand.)
"If you're certain." He doesn't know what to do, but he's done all he has to do.
Given the sudden stillness of the goop-tails...
When Derek consented to Akestor seeing it, knowing it, he hadn't known how it worked. What would be shown. Perhaps he should have asked more questions...
Too late for that, now.
It begins.
((I'm dropping it ALL under a read more. TW for those reading for child abuse, reference to SA, Starvation, Torture, ECT.))
Derek, two, curled up in a tiny ball in a closet, clutching a stuffed dragon, red handprint on his cheek, tears soaking the fabric. Hidden; an older sibling cooing to him while shouting goes on in the background.
Derek, five, teaching himself how to read from the dictionary while the same sibling from before is removed from the home in the background; he cries, it is silent. It is unnoticed.
Derek, seven, spoofing his parents signatures for online school enrollment on the shitty laptop he had fished out of the dump and repaired. Spoofing the same for all his siblings, silently, once he's done it for his own.
Derek, nine, protecting a toddler from screaming parents, cooing softly as an elder brother leaves. A nation is mentioned, a knight order.
Derek, twelve, teaching his now many younger siblings how to read, how to write, how to tie their shoes. But also, how to go unnoticed by their parents, made harder by a fresh egg clutch.
Derek, fourteen, understanding what it means when his final eldest sibling is removed from the nest. He doesn't cry over this anymore; instead, he keeps his head down and feeds his newest little sibling. He hasn't slept through the night in years.
Derek, fifteen, the parental bond ends. He has his duffle packed, full of everything he's ever owned. He tells his elder young siblings to brace.
Derek, sixteen, leaves. A fresh black eye and bruises for the trouble of protecting a toddler from a drunken rage. He goes to the knight order.
Derek, sixteen, introduced to... Sir.
Derek, sixteen, told that... Certain things... Are a part of the order. That he Must.
Derek, sixteen, learning that no doesn't mean no. Not for him. Not when it is Sir.
Derek, sixteen, when...
The memories speed up, flashes of events that need not be put to paper. Notable is the introduction of the knight captain, a Mister to his Sir, and he has less peace than before. No meant little before, it means nothing now.
Derek, freshly twenty. Mortified as what is supposed to be a prank, his journal read to the entire order.
Derek, the next day, watching as his trainer and the knight captain (Sir and Mister) are removed from the order with disgrace. As his trainer is sent to prison with a wrist slap sentence and the knight captain is able to stay out Scott Free.
Derek, leaving the order for college. Sinking into his studies. Getting a PhD in astrophysics, because he would rather be anywhere other than on this planet. A BS in Math and Mechanical Engineering because it is interesting.
Derek, twenty-seven, when his trainer and his old knight captain (Sir and Mister, forever Sir and Mister) make The Demand. The Threat, with a toddler who looks like the rest of his siblings as the Ammunition.
Derek, who enters hell not for curiosity, but to save a sibling he does not know is already returned home. Was never in danger.
Derek, who explores for curiosity (endless curiosity) but also because there must be some reason this place was chosen for him. Something aside from those that wished him gone to disappear, to vanish without trace, a loose end tied neatly.
Derek, who sees his version of the King and is, from there, relentlessly hunted for sport. For months.
Derek, who tanks the knowledge better than others like him because he is a dragon, because he hoards knowledge, because he doesn't want to be there, and because his version of the king wanted a fighter to hunt for sport.
Derek, who is hunted throughout a Carcosa designed to confuse, abuse, and whittle him down to nothing. Getting caught, mauled like a wild animal, only to run for the chase to continue.
Derek, who is pushed past a breaking point he hadn't known he had had once his food ran out, even after rationing. Who learned through trial and error which foods within the halls would make him ill, and which were safe to eat.
Derek, dealing with only having time to eat the occasional cave critter, or some lichen; any attempt at proper nutrition is enough time for his version of the king to catch him, and he doesn't want to be caught.
Derek, who has his nervous system rewritten to associate being alone with fear, anxiety, being hunted. Who had associated rest with pain, with capture, with escape. Who has associated physical contact with going-to-be-harmed.
Derek, who went from being big and broad to skinny and scrawny. Who went from fitting his armor perfectly to it hanging off of him, doing more harm than good.
Derek, who leaves the note for Avery not expecting to be alive by the time the slime finds it.
Derek, dealing with the aftermath of failing to save Avery. Of his kings plan failing so hard it didn't swap out of hardcore mode, of it not being his fault.
Derek, letting his echoing desire to be saved - no. To save Avery, despite his mate being deceased, to echo through the fabric of infinity until he is saved.
Derek, now, hand in hand with that who had saved him, with that he ought not to trust yet chooses to trust anyways. Willingly. Because his savior, who he had figured out was a version of the king, came for him. For Avery. Was kind when he had not seen kindness in almost a decade, and chose to Trust In That.
(Akestor is… outwardly, not much. Inwardly… Akestor is used to quietly seething. Used to being pissed off and angry and not showing any of it. And she is pissed. Pissed off at nearly every person Derek has ever met.)
(And yet. It smiles. It keeps the exact same friendly smile it’s had the whole time. It doesn’t take long. Maybe a few seconds- and she does heat up only slightly.)
(..and after a bit. It breathes in a very, very long drawn out breath. And pulls Derek into an embrace.)
Derek felt the temperature change. Watched, as the stillness of the goop changed dramatically. From stillness, to thrashing, goop curling and uncurling, like storm clouds rolling in.
Had he... Had he hurt Akestor in some way? Had something gone wrong?
Or perhaps. Terribly, horribly right, in a way he didn't want to think about? Was his past truly that bad?
He's stuck motionless, a statue, his wings twitching with the need to move, to flee the Predator, but also to stay stock-still, to not Draw Attention.
And he is reminded that breathing, for a being such as Akestor, is... Optional. That It takes so long to breathe unsettles him, that the breath does nothing for the thrashing goop full of anger and rage and things he couldn't quite name.
And then suddenly he has arms full of Akestor, he is held by Akestor, and things shake loose before settling into place.
When had he started shaking? He didn't know.
He didn't resist it, found he didn't want to resist it. Instead, he melted, tension that had built since he'd woken up (tension he'd been carrying for far longer than that) melting away in the face of someone who knew the all of him and cared enough to hold him anyways. Who knew his everything, and cared to cradle him like he meant something.
(They just stay there. The 10 new spines on her head slowly dissipate- when did those get there? ..it breathes long and slow, slow enough to follow without issue.)
(..it’s rumbling? Not quite a purr, no, closer to how the ground vibrates before and earthquake. The swirls and splots of orange in its skin vibrate along with it.)
"How much did you see?" He pretends his voice isn't small with the question, that it didn't crack. That he asked at all.
The longer the contact went on (to him it felt like eons, when it had been, maybe, a minute at most), the more it felt like pins and needles. Like something he should want, something that shouldn't hurt him, yet the phantom touch of those not here wanted to color the interaction.
He... Did not want to allow that to happen.
Was it selfish, to want to bask in Being Wanted For Once? Perhaps. But, dragons were supposed to be selfish, were they not?
He was trembling like a leaf, but his hands fisted (carefully, claws sheathed) in Akestor's clothes. He wasn't letting go, wouldn't let go, until he felt settled or until she wanted to be let go. Whichever happened first.
And, if he were honest... Being held felt nice. Being surrounded by a purring being (not quite a purr, yes, but to him it counted, hit his frankly frazzled instincts in all the right places) who valued him made him feel cared for and cherished in a way he'd never felt. So, if he started purring, a stuttering purr that couldn't decide if it was on or off, well. That was between himself and Akestor, was it not?
(He was purring, a stuttering thing that sounded like it hadn't been used since at least before he was sent to the caves, perhaps longer. And Dragons don't purr when they are held by others, unless there is Trust and Affection. Not just touch starvation at its worst, which is also admittedly at play. Purring when being held is usually saved for friends and family, of which he has none, now, but was counting Akestor among. His savior, his subconscious had decided, could be trusted)
(If it had to admit; Every time it was faced with someone in distress or pain- it felt like a moral failing. Like it should’ve been there, should’ve done something, even if that wasn’t even physically possible. The only thing it Can do, is help with the aftermath. Try to pick up pieces and carefully glue it back together like a jigsaw of someone else’s life. And even then, there are things Akestor is just not capable of fixing- willing, to fix. maybe it could, with manipulation or altering memories or hypnosis, and it has- Had done that before- but it wouldn’t.
As much as it wants to simply erase entire swaths of history or kill and maim- that wouldn’t fix the problem. It would just shove it off to the side to fester and bubble and boil, and eventually burst.)
(And Akestor is not going to drop its hold. Not until Derek has decided to. Because if it was forced to be honest with itself for once, it wasn’t just Derek who needed it.
Akestor smells of caramelising sugar. partly due to the slow boil and burn of honey in its core.)
..enough.
(It had seen enough. Enough for a terribly familiar boil and simmer of rage to bubble back up in the back of its mind. Enough that’s it’s tempted to dip into old habits. Enough to feel the slow inching return of a similar self hatred it thought it stuffed far back enough that it wouldn’t show up again)
Derek smelled the caramelized sugar (it wasn't Akestor's usual smell, given that it hadn't started until after the sharing) and hears It say it saw Enough, and.
He must have done something wrong. It's the only explanation.
And yet, Akestor clung to him just as much as he clung to It. So, perhaps. Perchance. He hadn't done anything wrong and, for once, someone was upset on his behalf.
Which was truly bizarre. He's never had that before. Maybe with Avery, but he'd never gotten to explore it. So. Perhaps not. (He ignores the Knowing he has, filling in the gaps, that while Avery would, that Avery would have gone straight into vowing vengeance and violence against those who dared, and that Akestor still might. Akestor, who wasn't teetering on the fence about it, but who was ensuring Derek's own safety, comfort, and happiness before making that decision or letting Derek make it on his own, and the comfort that brought him stole his breath for a moment)
"I'm sorry." Sorry for existing, for being a problem. But also, for causing the turmoil he can feel like its his own radiating from the other. That he's the cause of yet another problem. And yet, also, sorry for lack of a warning. That he hadn't realized a warning may have been necessary. That he didn't know how much had been shown, and thus didn't know what to warn for in the first place.
That he hadn't known he could ask for the help he'd received until it was too late for Avery.
Shame, now intermixed with everything else he was feeling (affection for Akestor, belonging, being wanted and wanting in return, not being drowned out but shuffled to the side in favor of this). He had caused harm to the one who saved him, and was selfish enough to want to hold on anyways. What kind of man was he, if he couldn't let go when he'd done such a thing? Yet, he wouldn't let go. Couldn't. He might break if he did, into approximately a million little pieces, and he lacked the strength to pull them back together on his own.
(Her hold just.. tightens, a bit. Doesn’t seem like he’s the only one to not want to let go.)
No.. no, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing at all.
(It breathes. Some attempt to calm its own nonexistent nervous system. Its core still boils but the smell of burning sugar dies down slightly. Her priority is not itself- the breathing is more for Derek than itself.)
The hold tightens safety security wanted wanted wanted and with it, so too did his hold on his fragile emotions. The reassurances help, they do, but they also shake more loose inside.
How long had he waited for his own parents to say such things to him? His teachers? How long had he waited for someone that wasn't himself to say such a thing, to mean it to the point it felt like a basic building block of reality? Water was wet, gravity made things fall down, the center of the galaxy held a black hole, he was not at fault for this.
"I'm not? You're sure?" His voice is stronger than it was with his apology (that it was still ongoing inside, apologizing for existing and the minutia of that, was for him to know - and likely Akestor as well, but he wasn't thinking about that right now), but still small. He lacked the strength to be strong right now, yes, but at the same time, he felt like he was safe enough to not be strong. To not be tall. To feel as though he were small again, wrapped in a safety he hadn't been allowed... Ever.
He comes to three realizations, in quick succession.
The first: If he could stay here forever, wrapped in the safety of his savior, he would do so.
The second: If he could have saved Avery, he would want them to experience this as well. Even if it wouldn't feel the same.
The third: Akestor... Was like him. Hadn't broken the same, but. Well. Broken children recognize broken children, even if they did not break the same.
He mulled them over, even as he melted into the hold, let himself feel safe and protected in a way he hadn't experienced since entering the caves (since before, too, but a moot point), and found himself coming to a fourth conclusion.
He didn't want to go back. Having lived through it all, there were things he would change, but he'd do it again if it meant getting here. To where he could feel safe, and secure, and protected, and if his instincts weren't lying (they could be, he wouldn't be able to tell) loved.
I’m absolutely certain, love. Other people’s cruelty is not you fault, ever.
(There’s an odd mix of wants now. The want to continue holding him and never letting go, the want to get back to research because it felt like the least it could do for the both of them, the want to not be more than 2 feet away from him, the want to distance and act like she was never open or vulnerable)
(None are quite as important as the Now, though. And so she does not move. Staying there, content enough with simply holding and reassuring him. It is the least it can do- even as it wishes it could do more.)
(The burning has died off. The sound of bubbling replaced with what sounds like a heartbeat- though slow and distant- it’s strange to hear from something that shouldn’t have human organs anyways.)
*There’s someone here… Ria? It looks confused; it doesn’t know where it is. It took a nap, and now it’s… here.*
*Ria’s looking around, a little confused and a little sleepy.*
^-v-^?
—💎🌹
'A child? Here?'
(it crouches where it stands. Waving at her with a patient calm smile. She's in what at first appears to be a garden, though it's a lot more wild than the courts she's used to. No neatly lined garden boxes and preened trees. There's wild flowers and vines and evergreens. It's almost like she's out in the wild, but the golden cathedral that looks above the tree line suggests other wise.)
Hello, dear. Where did you come from? (It keeps its voice light and friendly.) Where are your parents?
“I’m from…” *Ria hesitates. Arcadia? Carcosa? Which one is true? The latter now, right? She even has her own room…* “I’m from Carcosa. Mom’s there. So is Derek. I… think they’re both considered my parents?”
*Ria slow blinks. It isn’t sure if it should be tense from the feeling, or absolutely melt at it. Considering it’s quietly purring, though, it seems to be leaning towards the latter.*
“Ake-Akestor…?” *Ria tests the name, glancing at it to make sure it has the right pronunciation.*
“…Humans find me scary, usually. Carcosa’s the first place people don’t find me scary! And Avery, cuz he doesn’t really live there. It’s part of the reason I like being there so much.”
I doubt humans are afraid of you because you’re scary, dear. Humans have a tendency to fear things they don’t understand. Whether that is something of a different species or their own.
Oh, my dear, that is no fault of your own. Humans can be such cruel creatures. But I can promise that that will never happen to you here.
(He smiles at her, but internally he is.. enraged. She’s only a child, a young girl. It knows humans are cruel at times, but they did not think they would go so far as to harm a child.)
They are scared because they do not understand you. It is not because of you, or how you appear. They do the same to their own people, for things as small as names and genders, it is nothing you could control.
“…They’re not cruel, though. Maybe some of them are. But most of them aren’t. Humans are nice and kind and caring and-and I’ve seen it! I’ve seen them be all of that!”
“Just… not usually to me…”
*Ria hugs itself.*
“But why can’t they understand? Is it just because of what I am?”
*It looks up at Akestor, eyes big and watery.* “Am I not enough for them? Am I not human enough?”
*It’s a monster. It was always a monster. People hurt it because it wasn’t human — because it wasn’t a person. Yes. Yes, it must be Its Fault.*
“…will I ever be enough of a person, Akestor? So they aren’t afraid?”
(..he pulls her into a hug. It’s not constricting, but he’s definitely not happy. It’s light. It doesn’t want her to be frightened.)
Oh you sweet baby. I’m so sorry you were born into such a world. You are right, that humans are not all cruel. But the cruel ones are always the loudest of the bunch.
You do not owe them to be what they want. And I promise you, you are always enough.
(…he’s warm. Warmer than the air, at least. He’s upset. He doesn’t show it.)
*Ria doesn’t fight the hug, melting into it. It’s freezing. Although… its skin starts to warm, quickly matching Akestor’s temperature.*
*It misses when it was allowed to be warm.*
“…They’re not cruel to each other. I watched them.” *Because maybe that time, it will be different. It never was.* “Yes. They were very loud. They had things that went ‘bang!’ and then usually it hurt.”
“But if I’m what they want, then they’ll like me more! And I don’t mind, as long as they like me.”
*It owed Her. It was supposed to be what She wanted. It wasn’t enough then, either.*
You deserve freedom, my love, and to be around people who love you for who you are- not for what you should be.
(…he walks out the forest, closer to a town square. There’s market stalls and food carts and small businesses all dotted around a large fountain. There’s are kids playing in the fountain, and others running around the square.)
(There’s dozens of different types of people. Slimes, hybrids, witches, some that even look more like royalty- albeit more casual. They all intermingle. Some kids look over and wave, and the older kids and adults don’t even seem to pay any mind to The Caretaker’s presence.)
“I’m okay with the safety. It’s… better than the freedom, I think.” *Freedom just got it hurt and made sure it was hungry — it’s safe with Hastur. Happy, too.* “And it’s okay! I’ve made sure they’re the same, so it doesn’t matter lots.”
*As they get closer to the town, Ria holds out its hand for Hand Holding Time. Its eyes dart around, and it presses into Akestor. This is not a child that was well socialized with groups or busy areas, it seems.*
*Ria’s eyes continue to scan each person. Watching and studying and making sure none of them are Moving Weird or going to attack or-*
*…It’s pretty clear that Ria’s a little nervous, at least. It looks like it’s ready to run at one wrong movement.*
(A few kids notice her and wave. Some louder groups look over at her and seem to instinctively quiet. It seems like everyone used to new people being flighty or on edge.. some older ones even nudge younger kids who look over and wave.)
(Some kids even seem to be other vampires, who seem to look over with both surprise and excitement.)
*Ria is… hesitant to wave back. It glances at Akestor, trying to figure out if it should or not. If it’s even allowed to.*
*It’s supposed to, right? To smile and wave and pretend nothing’s wrong? That’s what Mama said she was supposed to do. Greet people nicely. Be nice. Nice and kind and kind and nice and never react wrong ever.*
*It seems unsure of the other vampires — it hasn’t met any others, before. Ria’s wings shift uncomfortably. How is it supposed to react, to others like it?*
*It ends up pressing even further into Akestor. It’s the closest to safety, right now.*
*There’s so many of them. More than it’s used to. More friendly-seeming, too.*
(He leds her to a quiet dark spot near the square. It’s not very crowded, mostly inhabited by birds)
You don’t have to jump into it, but the people here would love to meet you. I promise it. You’re allowed to choose when you’re comfortable, my dear.
(Some groups have started gathering flowers. A few are talking excitedly in hushed tones. Occasionally, some look over to her with wide smiles- who are then pulled back down)
You don’t have to meet people if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure to do it now.
(Though he can tell the others are bursting at the seems to say hi.)
*Ria’s pupils go smaller, adjusting to the light. It stares at the birds for a While, not… fully there.*
*The birds make it sad. Why do the birds make it sad?*
*It trills (the noise oddly birdlike) at some of the birds. A familiar trill, one it learned from… from… a pause. Moea! It learned it from Momea. It misses her. Where did she go? Ria looks a little lost. The almost mournful trilling continues.*
*It doesn’t know why it’s so sad.*
*It snaps out of it when Akestor talks again.*
“…okay. There’s a lot of them. Lots and lots of people… why do they want to meet me, Akestor?”
*Ria glances at the others. Flowers? Why are they gathering flowers? And why do they keep smiling like that at it? It blocks itself from view with a wing adorned with thin white lines. Scarring, it seems.*
*It’s still listening in; keeping track of footsteps. Listening to where each heartbeat is, too.*
*It nods. Up to it… it shakes its head. It’s supposed to do something, isn’t it? It’s supposed to get over itself. Say hi. Introduce.*
*It’s not like it’s a person, anyways. What does it have to fear? People will be nice, or it will deserve it. Right?*
*The trilling certainly isn’t a natural noise for Ria to make. It’s definitely something learned — although it shouldn’t be able to make that noise at all, probably.*
*Ria hesitates. It reads the smile wrong; the words wrong. It smiles back, looking as natural as it can. Okay. Okay, it can do this.*
I will be right here, I will not leave you my dear.
(He hums, wondering from what life this child has come from to lead to such behaviour. It’s aware of bits of information- the child… poor choice of parental figure- but even that should not lead such.. strong formation of habits.)
(The kids, ranging from 16 to 20, are collectively trying to make a little collection of wild flowers and a flower crown out of red poppies.)
*It takes a few hesitant steps forward, before skittering back over to Akestor. It peers out at the group from behind gold.*
*…It’s watching them weave the flowers into the crown. Once again, it starts to approach. It grabs Akestor’s hand as it moves, bringing them along as best it can. Moving towards the ones weaving the flowers.*
“Can I try…? I know how to make flower crowns…”
*It doesn’t like all the eyes on it.*
*It shakes its head; the flower crown can’t be for it. It’s not the right size for around its neck, or to wrap around its arm or something. And it… wouldn’t be able to keep it on its head for very long. Ria shoots Akestor a worried look. But it’s okay. It will figure… something out.*
(He follows along happily. As long as she’s comfortable)
(One girl gasps, another next to her nudges her in the side. The one trying to weave the flowers in looks up in mildly contained surprise)
“Oh! Uh! Well it was supposed to be for you… but, but if you want to, sure! I.. think I’m doing it wrong..” (He laughs somewhat awkwardly, rubbing the back of their neck.)
*Ria flinches back at the gasping and nudging and attention, pressing itself into Akestor.*
*Did it get smaller, or is it just holding itself weird?*
“…It’s okay. I don’t like things on my hair all that much. It feels funny…” *Ria shakes its head, stepping forward again. It sits next to the one weaving, a little tense. It’s still ready to run.*
(The kid nudges the girl again, a “see you made her scared!” Being whispered between the two. The girl pokes her fingers together in a sheepish manner- though the berating seems to be in good fun.)
“Sure!” (He hands her the crown with a smile.)
(A small conversation is spurred between another kid and the girl. They seem to keep their voices low- or at least lower, trying to not overwhelm her.) “Oh dang it.. well there goes that idea..” “oh oh, we could make a bigger one? Like a necklace instead! Right?” “Do we have enough flowers? I liked the poppies because they matched her hair..”
*Ria pretends not to see; pretends not to hear. That’s easier. It’s always been so much easier.*
*Just don’t listen to the whispers. You’ll be fine.*
*Ria smiles back. It’s… bright. A large smile, for sure. It looks easy — natural, even. Carefully, it takes the crown, then the flowers.*
*Its hands move quickly. A few flowers taken out here and there, the whole crown adjusted. A few flowers are added, too. It’s eyed, rather than counted — some flowers are bigger than others. They need more space. Some are better when placed closer to others. Sometimes, the space is too one-note, and it needs something else. Other times, it’s fine.*
*The flower crown is adjusted a few times, until Ria decides it’s good enough. It hands it back, glancing at Akestor.*
*Its ears twitch. Don’t listen to what they’re saying. It’s better if you don’t. Safer. Easier.*
“Woah… how’d you do that so quickly!” (Other kids also pause to go “ooooo” at Ria talent.)
(He takes it, tentatively, holding it up to look at it)
“It’s so perfect!” “It’s way prettier than what I make..” “could you teach us? Pretty please!”
(Akestor is smiling. It’s so, so happy the kids love her so much. The kids have very quickly quieted down, all looking at her handy work with amazement.)
*Ria tilts its head. It thought it was going kind of slow…* “…Practice, I guess. I didn’t have lots else to do…” *It shrinks back a bit at all the attention, unsure of how to take it. This is an… odd situation to it. Such amounts of attention are supposed to only happen if Ria’s being showed off, or if something big or important happens…*
*It perks up upon hearing the word ‘perfect’. Guilt fills it immediately after. They think that is perfect?*
*It nods.* “Uhm… yeah, okay. You’re gonna want flowers with longer stems, but not thinner stems. It’ll be easier with only one type of flower, too. So there’s only one stem, and you don’t gotta worry about them all matching…”
*Ria nudges the kid, carefully.* “Maybe you could give it to Akestor? They might want it, if none of you do….”
(..one girl nudges the other, who sighs and very gently tugs on ria’s sleeve. She’s a black haired girl, with pale skin and red eyes. She’s another vampire, by the looks of it.)
“Uhm.. you’re.. a vampire, right?”
(She’s very quiet- seems almost afraid to speak loudly. Her friend next to her- a slimehybrid with bright orange eyes- is silent cheering her on.)
*Ria tenses up. Its wings press in at the question, pupils going small. It makes them look more slitted, rather than the rounded look its pupils normally take on.*
“I-“
*It looks between the two of them. The slime doesn’t comfort it much; it’s Avery is a human, and it hasn’t met any slimes before.*
“I…” *It nods.* “I am, yeah… why?” ^•n•>?
*It… takes a few moments for it to click for Ria. It hasn’t spent any time around other vampires, and it hasn’t focused much on its… changes after being turned. Once it does realize, though…*
(She smiles- it matches her timid voice, like it’s afraid to be visible.)
“So am I!”
(Her friend pats her shoulder with a “see, I told you it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”)
(Akestor watches with a smile, now also with a flower crown on its head. The boy- an avian hybrid with light green feathers and green eyes smiles as well)
“There are? Huh…” *It blinks, confused once more.* “Are we… not supposed to have wings, then?
*Ria hops up on its own. It’s a fluid movement.*
“…Please don’t grab me…” ^•n•^”
*It pauses, staring at Nori. Big Stare.* “I know someone who goes by Nori. They’re a nice bunny. They like lettuce.” *It has decided that this Nori is not, in fact, a bunny. This makes it sad. It likes bunnies.* “I’m Ria.”
*That means Ria is about in the middle of their heights, at 5’5. It’s in the middle age-wise, too, probably.*
“Oh- no, no, not that! There’s a bunch of different types of vampires.. no one’s quite the same, uhm, some have wings some don’t, some don’t like the sun, others aren’t bothered-”
“THERES A BUNNY ME?” (Charlie flinches backwards and Nori coughs and quiets down) “uh sorry- I looovee bunnies..”
“The sun usually hurts me. It doesn’t in Carcosa, though, for some reason.” *Ria’s gotten plenty of burns from the space between leaves, when it thought it was safe…* “Do vampires without wings usually make the sun less angry?”
*Ria squeaks, ears twitching. Its wings twitch as well, but they remain mostly folded. They got a bit unfolded in the movement.*
“Uh-huh! Well… I don’t think you and my Nori are the same. I had to help them with her name…” *It nods.* “Bunnies are the best! Like Sable! It’s super sweet!”
“You have bunnniess?? Omg.. can I see them? Pretty please? Pretty pretty please??” (Nori is looking at her with the Widest Puppy Dog eyes she can manage.)
“Oh.. if you get burned you could borrow my sunscreen.. or- or not, maybe that’s weird..? Uhm.. never mind.” (Charlie quiets down, apparently deciding she’s said too much. Nori nudges her)
“Heyyyy, didn’t we think it’d be cool to show her the café?”
“Oh! Oh, right, uhm.. there’s a cool little vampire café aunt Julie made.. if- if it’s okay- I wanna show you it”
♪— A small child with chains appears, it prince outfit slightly massy — tentacles ripped heavily from the sharp edges of the chains. The child looks around confused, he never been out of the void before.
— @1he-l0st-ki4g
Child? Dear?
Oh dearie me.. what a state for you to be in..
(A person appears in front of him- regal, yet almost motherly. It’s concerned, its face scrunched in focus and worry.)
Hello, my dear. (It pulls its face into a smile.) why are you alone?
♪— The chains have a mix of Greek and latin written all over, easier to see up close than from afar, clearly rushed writing. ❝. . .I always been alone really. . .❞ it said in a whisper, voice weak. It hurts for it to speak.
♪— The Prince slowly crawls over, the chains heavy and making it hard to move well. ❝. . .I don't remember how I got like this. . .❞ it face is seen better — just a empty and simple black void.
(It gently pats his head, trying to alleviate the weight or pain..)
Is it alright if i pick you up, my dear?
(It eyes the chains on it. Its latin and greek, two languages it knows quite well. It hopes to gain some insight onto what kind of enchantment the chains have- hopefully to learn why they’re there or how to remove them..)
(It picks flower up into his arms. Cradling him ever so gently. He speaks to it calmly and softly.)
It’s alright, now. Let’s see if we can help you out a bit, yeah? You’re safe here, I promise you that.
(If the chains are a necessity, Caretaker at least hopes to maybe transfer the spells to something lighter… a child should be allowed to move freely, not be bound up all the time.)
♪— The Prince is a bit heavy from the chains on goldself, ❝. . .Okay. . .❞ it said weakly. The chains are slightly able to read — saying " Bound this soul to earth and soil, break their hope and spirit..... " the rest of the spell is hard to read but maybe a different chain will give out the rest.
(He carries him to the chapels living quarters. He places it gently a couch. It inspects the chains a bit closer.)
(Maybe it could switch them out for fabric tassels. Those have worked previously. They have quite the collection of binding spells and containment spells, and sage paper is wildly available for the witches..)
(It shifts the chains- both to get a look at them, and to carefully cover sharp points and corners of each. Perks of being made of what’s effectively solid jello, I guess)
(A small golden panel floats in the air. They write something, tap something, and then the panel disappears into glitter)
♪— ❝. . .Yay!. . .❞ it said, not minding the covering of the sharper parts of the chains.
♪— A part of the chain is able to fully read, saying " Bound this soul to earth and soil, break their hope and spirit, weakened them until they are nothing but a empty shell, let them rot away " The spell! But . . . now to figure out to remove the spell.
(He hums.. suddenly getting rid of a a spell all at once can be dangerous or jarring, so now that he has the full spell, the next goal is either to lessen it via removing bits at a time, or completely replacing it.)
(…once it’s sure that the child is more comfortable and not in pain, it stands and creates another panel.)
[it’s a note to witches and alchemists. It lists both the spell and what it’s made on. While it knows how to do things like this, he would rather leave it to professionals who have experience with both altering and making binding spells.]
Well, my love. Let’s see what the cooks have made, yes?
(He scoops The Prince back up, humming)
(The dining area is surprisingly quaint. It’s not overly fancy, but it’s obviously made to house many people at once. Instead of large tables to hold many, it’s set up closer to a restaurant. Smaller tables dotted around with some cushioned tables along the walls.)
(Eventually, someone brings out plates of food. They coo at the prince before leaving the two be)
♪— There is simple spaghetti with meatballs, red sauce and all. The Prince looks to the food — confused how to eat it or what it is, he never had spaghetti before or from what it knows.
♪— The Prince watches closely — following with the fork part. Gold stares at the pasta on the fork, then it summons a inky yellow mouth, biting down and eating the pasta.
(The Caretaker sits back, watching it with a smile. It hums, thinking again on what to do.. he isn’t sure whether to try and return the child home or not. If gold even has one.)
what kind of place to live would this be without things to do? The city square is usually quite lively this time of day. There lots of things to do as well.
(He snaps, the empty plates disappear, and it walks out of the dinning hall.)
(Outside of the glass doors is the view of the town. The golden sun bathes everything in a soft Yellow-orange light. The city centre is shaped in a semi circle around the Cathedral, busy already with families and people and kids all just existing without worry.)
*There’s someone here… Ria? It looks confused; it doesn’t know where it is. It took a nap, and now it’s… here.*
*Ria’s looking around, a little confused and a little sleepy.*
^-v-^?
—💎🌹
'A child? Here?'
(it crouches where it stands. Waving at her with a patient calm smile. She's in what at first appears to be a garden, though it's a lot more wild than the courts she's used to. No neatly lined garden boxes and preened trees. There's wild flowers and vines and evergreens. It's almost like she's out in the wild, but the golden cathedral that looks above the tree line suggests other wise.)
Hello, dear. Where did you come from? (It keeps its voice light and friendly.) Where are your parents?
“I’m from…” *Ria hesitates. Arcadia? Carcosa? Which one is true? The latter now, right? She even has her own room…* “I’m from Carcosa. Mom’s there. So is Derek. I… think they’re both considered my parents?”
*Ria slow blinks. It isn’t sure if it should be tense from the feeling, or absolutely melt at it. Considering it’s quietly purring, though, it seems to be leaning towards the latter.*
“Ake-Akestor…?” *Ria tests the name, glancing at it to make sure it has the right pronunciation.*
“…Humans find me scary, usually. Carcosa’s the first place people don’t find me scary! And Avery, cuz he doesn’t really live there. It’s part of the reason I like being there so much.”
I doubt humans are afraid of you because you’re scary, dear. Humans have a tendency to fear things they don’t understand. Whether that is something of a different species or their own.
Oh, my dear, that is no fault of your own. Humans can be such cruel creatures. But I can promise that that will never happen to you here.
(He smiles at her, but internally he is.. enraged. She’s only a child, a young girl. It knows humans are cruel at times, but they did not think they would go so far as to harm a child.)
They are scared because they do not understand you. It is not because of you, or how you appear. They do the same to their own people, for things as small as names and genders, it is nothing you could control.
“…They’re not cruel, though. Maybe some of them are. But most of them aren’t. Humans are nice and kind and caring and-and I’ve seen it! I’ve seen them be all of that!”
“Just… not usually to me…”
*Ria hugs itself.*
“But why can’t they understand? Is it just because of what I am?”
*It looks up at Akestor, eyes big and watery.* “Am I not enough for them? Am I not human enough?”
*It’s a monster. It was always a monster. People hurt it because it wasn’t human — because it wasn’t a person. Yes. Yes, it must be Its Fault.*
“…will I ever be enough of a person, Akestor? So they aren’t afraid?”
(..he pulls her into a hug. It’s not constricting, but he’s definitely not happy. It’s light. It doesn’t want her to be frightened.)
Oh you sweet baby. I’m so sorry you were born into such a world. You are right, that humans are not all cruel. But the cruel ones are always the loudest of the bunch.
You do not owe them to be what they want. And I promise you, you are always enough.
(…he’s warm. Warmer than the air, at least. He’s upset. He doesn’t show it.)
*Ria doesn’t fight the hug, melting into it. It’s freezing. Although… its skin starts to warm, quickly matching Akestor’s temperature.*
*It misses when it was allowed to be warm.*
“…They’re not cruel to each other. I watched them.” *Because maybe that time, it will be different. It never was.* “Yes. They were very loud. They had things that went ‘bang!’ and then usually it hurt.”
“But if I’m what they want, then they’ll like me more! And I don’t mind, as long as they like me.”
*It owed Her. It was supposed to be what She wanted. It wasn’t enough then, either.*
You deserve freedom, my love, and to be around people who love you for who you are- not for what you should be.
(…he walks out the forest, closer to a town square. There’s market stalls and food carts and small businesses all dotted around a large fountain. There’s are kids playing in the fountain, and others running around the square.)
(There’s dozens of different types of people. Slimes, hybrids, witches, some that even look more like royalty- albeit more casual. They all intermingle. Some kids look over and wave, and the older kids and adults don’t even seem to pay any mind to The Caretaker’s presence.)
“I’m okay with the safety. It’s… better than the freedom, I think.” *Freedom just got it hurt and made sure it was hungry — it’s safe with Hastur. Happy, too.* “And it’s okay! I’ve made sure they’re the same, so it doesn’t matter lots.”
*As they get closer to the town, Ria holds out its hand for Hand Holding Time. Its eyes dart around, and it presses into Akestor. This is not a child that was well socialized with groups or busy areas, it seems.*
*Ria’s eyes continue to scan each person. Watching and studying and making sure none of them are Moving Weird or going to attack or-*
*…It’s pretty clear that Ria’s a little nervous, at least. It looks like it’s ready to run at one wrong movement.*
(A few kids notice her and wave. Some louder groups look over at her and seem to instinctively quiet. It seems like everyone used to new people being flighty or on edge.. some older ones even nudge younger kids who look over and wave.)
(Some kids even seem to be other vampires, who seem to look over with both surprise and excitement.)
*Ria is… hesitant to wave back. It glances at Akestor, trying to figure out if it should or not. If it’s even allowed to.*
*It’s supposed to, right? To smile and wave and pretend nothing’s wrong? That’s what Mama said she was supposed to do. Greet people nicely. Be nice. Nice and kind and kind and nice and never react wrong ever.*
*It seems unsure of the other vampires — it hasn’t met any others, before. Ria’s wings shift uncomfortably. How is it supposed to react, to others like it?*
*It ends up pressing even further into Akestor. It’s the closest to safety, right now.*
*There’s so many of them. More than it’s used to. More friendly-seeming, too.*
(He leds her to a quiet dark spot near the square. It’s not very crowded, mostly inhabited by birds)
You don’t have to jump into it, but the people here would love to meet you. I promise it. You’re allowed to choose when you’re comfortable, my dear.
(Some groups have started gathering flowers. A few are talking excitedly in hushed tones. Occasionally, some look over to her with wide smiles- who are then pulled back down)
You don’t have to meet people if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure to do it now.
(Though he can tell the others are bursting at the seems to say hi.)
*Ria’s pupils go smaller, adjusting to the light. It stares at the birds for a While, not… fully there.*
*The birds make it sad. Why do the birds make it sad?*
*It trills (the noise oddly birdlike) at some of the birds. A familiar trill, one it learned from… from… a pause. Moea! It learned it from Momea. It misses her. Where did she go? Ria looks a little lost. The almost mournful trilling continues.*
*It doesn’t know why it’s so sad.*
*It snaps out of it when Akestor talks again.*
“…okay. There’s a lot of them. Lots and lots of people… why do they want to meet me, Akestor?”
*Ria glances at the others. Flowers? Why are they gathering flowers? And why do they keep smiling like that at it? It blocks itself from view with a wing adorned with thin white lines. Scarring, it seems.*
*It’s still listening in; keeping track of footsteps. Listening to where each heartbeat is, too.*
*It nods. Up to it… it shakes its head. It’s supposed to do something, isn’t it? It’s supposed to get over itself. Say hi. Introduce.*
*It’s not like it’s a person, anyways. What does it have to fear? People will be nice, or it will deserve it. Right?*
*The trilling certainly isn’t a natural noise for Ria to make. It’s definitely something learned — although it shouldn’t be able to make that noise at all, probably.*
*Ria hesitates. It reads the smile wrong; the words wrong. It smiles back, looking as natural as it can. Okay. Okay, it can do this.*
I will be right here, I will not leave you my dear.
(He hums, wondering from what life this child has come from to lead to such behaviour. It’s aware of bits of information- the child… poor choice of parental figure- but even that should not lead such.. strong formation of habits.)
(The kids, ranging from 16 to 20, are collectively trying to make a little collection of wild flowers and a flower crown out of red poppies.)
*It takes a few hesitant steps forward, before skittering back over to Akestor. It peers out at the group from behind gold.*
*…It’s watching them weave the flowers into the crown. Once again, it starts to approach. It grabs Akestor’s hand as it moves, bringing them along as best it can. Moving towards the ones weaving the flowers.*
“Can I try…? I know how to make flower crowns…”
*It doesn’t like all the eyes on it.*
*It shakes its head; the flower crown can’t be for it. It’s not the right size for around its neck, or to wrap around its arm or something. And it… wouldn’t be able to keep it on its head for very long. Ria shoots Akestor a worried look. But it’s okay. It will figure… something out.*
(He follows along happily. As long as she’s comfortable)
(One girl gasps, another next to her nudges her in the side. The one trying to weave the flowers in looks up in mildly contained surprise)
“Oh! Uh! Well it was supposed to be for you… but, but if you want to, sure! I.. think I’m doing it wrong..” (He laughs somewhat awkwardly, rubbing the back of their neck.)
*Ria flinches back at the gasping and nudging and attention, pressing itself into Akestor.*
*Did it get smaller, or is it just holding itself weird?*
“…It’s okay. I don’t like things on my hair all that much. It feels funny…” *Ria shakes its head, stepping forward again. It sits next to the one weaving, a little tense. It’s still ready to run.*
(The kid nudges the girl again, a “see you made her scared!” Being whispered between the two. The girl pokes her fingers together in a sheepish manner- though the berating seems to be in good fun.)
“Sure!” (He hands her the crown with a smile.)
(A small conversation is spurred between another kid and the girl. They seem to keep their voices low- or at least lower, trying to not overwhelm her.) “Oh dang it.. well there goes that idea..” “oh oh, we could make a bigger one? Like a necklace instead! Right?” “Do we have enough flowers? I liked the poppies because they matched her hair..”
*Ria pretends not to see; pretends not to hear. That’s easier. It’s always been so much easier.*
*Just don’t listen to the whispers. You’ll be fine.*
*Ria smiles back. It’s… bright. A large smile, for sure. It looks easy — natural, even. Carefully, it takes the crown, then the flowers.*
*Its hands move quickly. A few flowers taken out here and there, the whole crown adjusted. A few flowers are added, too. It’s eyed, rather than counted — some flowers are bigger than others. They need more space. Some are better when placed closer to others. Sometimes, the space is too one-note, and it needs something else. Other times, it’s fine.*
*The flower crown is adjusted a few times, until Ria decides it’s good enough. It hands it back, glancing at Akestor.*
*Its ears twitch. Don’t listen to what they’re saying. It’s better if you don’t. Safer. Easier.*
“Woah… how’d you do that so quickly!” (Other kids also pause to go “ooooo” at Ria talent.)
(He takes it, tentatively, holding it up to look at it)
“It’s so perfect!” “It’s way prettier than what I make..” “could you teach us? Pretty please!”
(Akestor is smiling. It’s so, so happy the kids love her so much. The kids have very quickly quieted down, all looking at her handy work with amazement.)
*Ria tilts its head. It thought it was going kind of slow…* “…Practice, I guess. I didn’t have lots else to do…” *It shrinks back a bit at all the attention, unsure of how to take it. This is an… odd situation to it. Such amounts of attention are supposed to only happen if Ria’s being showed off, or if something big or important happens…*
*It perks up upon hearing the word ‘perfect’. Guilt fills it immediately after. They think that is perfect?*
*It nods.* “Uhm… yeah, okay. You’re gonna want flowers with longer stems, but not thinner stems. It’ll be easier with only one type of flower, too. So there’s only one stem, and you don’t gotta worry about them all matching…”
*Ria nudges the kid, carefully.* “Maybe you could give it to Akestor? They might want it, if none of you do….”
(..one girl nudges the other, who sighs and very gently tugs on ria’s sleeve. She’s a black haired girl, with pale skin and red eyes. She’s another vampire, by the looks of it.)
“Uhm.. you’re.. a vampire, right?”
(She’s very quiet- seems almost afraid to speak loudly. Her friend next to her- a slimehybrid with bright orange eyes- is silent cheering her on.)
*Ria tenses up. Its wings press in at the question, pupils going small. It makes them look more slitted, rather than the rounded look its pupils normally take on.*
“I-“
*It looks between the two of them. The slime doesn’t comfort it much; it’s Avery is a human, and it hasn’t met any slimes before.*
“I…” *It nods.* “I am, yeah… why?” ^•n•>?
*It… takes a few moments for it to click for Ria. It hasn’t spent any time around other vampires, and it hasn’t focused much on its… changes after being turned. Once it does realize, though…*
(She smiles- it matches her timid voice, like it’s afraid to be visible.)
“So am I!”
(Her friend pats her shoulder with a “see, I told you it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”)
(Akestor watches with a smile, now also with a flower crown on its head. The boy- an avian hybrid with light green feathers and green eyes smiles as well)
“There are? Huh…” *It blinks, confused once more.* “Are we… not supposed to have wings, then?
*Ria hops up on its own. It’s a fluid movement.*
“…Please don’t grab me…” ^•n•^”
*It pauses, staring at Nori. Big Stare.* “I know someone who goes by Nori. They’re a nice bunny. They like lettuce.” *It has decided that this Nori is not, in fact, a bunny. This makes it sad. It likes bunnies.* “I’m Ria.”
*That means Ria is about in the middle of their heights, at 5’5. It’s in the middle age-wise, too, probably.*
“Oh- no, no, not that! There’s a bunch of different types of vampires.. no one’s quite the same, uhm, some have wings some don’t, some don’t like the sun, others aren’t bothered-”
“THERES A BUNNY ME?” (Charlie flinches backwards and Nori coughs and quiets down) “uh sorry- I looovee bunnies..”
*Avery's entire body tenses, his wings fluffing up.*
N-no please- I- *He freezes up, hissing quietly from sudden pain. It was from the hiltless netherite sword, still lodged in his wing. He had almost forgotten about it.... His eyes squeeze closed again, becoming more and more wet by the minute.*
*Avery is clearly terrified of someone touching his wings, even if that person is simply himsel.*
- ✒️🪽
(Avid shrugs, smiling apologetically)
“Sorry, but we can’t exactly leave them in the state they’re in, y’know? They could get infected or more torn. Would hate for you to loose the ability to fly! It won’t take long, we barely have to touch the wings directly, we just need to get things out of them.”
