warnings: blood, violence, implications of murder/drowning (if you think something else should be tagged, let me know!)
pairing: vessel x knight!reader (eventual)
word count: 5.5k
this is chapter one of a series.
this fic is made up of the author's personal interpretation of sleep token's lore, and is aware that it may not be true to "canon". do not take the lore explanation within this story as actual sleep token lore canon. this is just for fun.
as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always so appreciated! please enjoy!
tags: @concretejunglefm, @fadingangelwisp, @chey-h, @xmads-omensx, @astronoids, (if you would like to be added/removed from this list, dm me!)
Vessel is paralyzed like a deer in headlights as the first roar shakes the ground. He feels briefly as though the wind has been knocked out of his lungs, like someone has delivered a punch to his gut.
The beast is at least twice his size, a large shadowy mass with armor and a sword. Each step it takes is heavy, heavy enough to shake the ground. It moves through the clearing like it has been here many times before, like it has never once been stopped. It doesn't notice him directly, but it most certainly knows something is here.
He remains rooted to the spot until it turns around. He allows himself a shaking exhale. A mistake.
It whips around like the wind, and though he cannot see eyes he knows it is looking at him. The monster rushes at him with a snarl, and it definitely says something, but it's either a different language or his head is pounding too hard to make out even the most basic English.
The sword is swung and the adrenaline kicks in enough for him to move out of the way. Gods know that if he hadn't, his head would've been rolling on the grounds of this unfamiliar land. But if this is normal for this realm, he doubts he will survive long.
The sword is swung again, and though he once again maneuvers out of the way he knows that he has been cut. A hand instinctively goes to his arm, and when he lifts it to look at his palm he sees blood. His vision blurs at the sight, his ears ring, and oddly enough he feels as though he may throw up.
He's seen blood so many times before. He's not sure why it bothers him now.
Vessel shakes the nausea and the disorientation off, coughing hoarsely as he weighs his options. He has nothing to defend himself, nothing except for...
No. He doesn't want to. He swore he'd never use that again. But what other choice does he have? Why is it that he keeps having to do things he doesn't want to do?
He wants to live. He has to.
Vessel manages to find a temporary hiding place behind a tall tree with pink leaves. Through labored breaths, he focuses his energy, and a sound akin to a groan, perhaps a sob, tears from his throat. His hands stretch out, palm up, and his eyes shut.
Thank the gods, the vines respond. He watches as they blacken, and his hands and head do the rest. His arms and fingers contort and bend, his head thrashing and tilting as they pull themselves closer, closer, closer.
They wrap around the leg of the beast, and it notices a moment too late. Vessel draws one of his arms back as if aiming an arrow, and the vines pull hard. The creature growls in pain as it falls to the ground, most definitely hitting its head on the way down.
Vessel feels the pain throughout his entire body. Every movement of these vines makes his bones feel like they're breaking, like they're splintering like wood. He doesn't realize the way he grunts and moans in pain as he tunnels his focus on survival.
His left palm goes out, facing the beast directly, and then slowly tightens into a fist. A vine wraps around its neck and tightens... but it's not enough. He knows it's not enough. He won't stop trying, until his fist is so tight his knuckles are white, until he's shaking and crying.
"Go, now!" He hears a voice. He's not sure where it comes from, he can't open his eyes. Through the lens of the plant life he manipulates, he thinks he can see the gleam of metal. His fist is still shaking, he's still holding on so tightly to the throat of this beast.
He just barely manages to angle up a vine from above to look down, to at least somewhat understand what's happening in his immediate surroundings. It's blurred, and keeps fading in and out, but he knows armor when he sees it. There's four people, at least he can only assume they are, and each of them are holding weaponry.
They surround the monster in a square formation, lunging and slashing as it roars and screams. Each sound feels like an earthquake, and it's a miracle any of them including himself are standing upright.
Then the vines snap. Vessel cries out in pain as he's thrust back into his own mind, his own body. The beast rises. It's angrier than ever, and the way it gets up causes two of the soldiers to be briefly out of commission, falling to the ground in pain.
He can hardly hold himself up, and his blood runs cold as he realizes the beast is looking straight at him. And it's getting closer, blade above its head, ready to strike.
His life flashes before his eyes, or at least it's supposed to. All he can see is Sleep. Sleep, Sleep, always Sleep, it's always been Sleep, it will always be—
The impact never comes. There's someone in front of him, their blade against the monster's, trying to hold it off, trying to fight back against it. Someone is... protecting him. A first.
The next few moments feel like they go by so quickly. The remaining three soldiers, all of which are now recovered, go at the beast all at once. There's bloodshed, he can see the blood staining the grass, the way it seeps into the soil. The screams, both of the creature and the warriors, the shaking of the ground as it falls lifeless, and then the silence.
"Dead. Good." One of the soldiers says between heavy breaths. He can hear the sound of a blade being sheathed. "One of the bigger ones I've seen in quite some time. Did you see the..." The voice fades in and out. His head is swimming, the adrenaline is dying out; he’s burning out quickly.
"Well met, stranger." The soldier that has saved his life finally turns to face him. With the way everything is beginning to sound, he almost thinks this is a dream and he is still in the depths of the Atlantic. "I've never seen a power quite like..."
Vessel just hardly catches himself as he's about to fall, his legs feeling weaker and weaker. It's all catching up to him, the exhaustion, the blood loss, the fear, the nausea...
"...you...? ...hear me?... wait... wait!"
He crumples to the ground as everything fades to black.
"Eugh. He reeks of the ocean." Asra grumbles beside you as they peel the wet cloak off the unconscious man. They hold it between their index finger and thumb, and you roll your eyes at how dramatic they are.
"You hold the damn thing like it'll bite you. Just set it over there, I'll wash it." You respond with a sigh, pointing at the pile of already filthy clothes. Of course it would have to be your responsibility to clean them, at least this time around.
"He has to be the one that washed up on the shore." Misty, who has been dressing the deep cut on the man's arm, chimes in. "How did he survive so long?"
"Hard to say." You hum, your eyes falling on his face, on the mask he wears. This rune... you've most definitely seen it before. "I'm even more surprised he wandered so far."
"Lucky bastard." Says the third in the room, Makai. "Gods must have something planned for him. Is he alive?"
You bring your fingers to the pulse point of the man's throat. His heart is beating, and his chest is rising and falling slowly. It truly is a miracle he survived.
"Yes." You nod, before returning your attention to the odd mask. "You lot have seen this rune before too, right?" You motion toward the man's face.
"Sleep." Asra clocks it immediately. "Another one of His little puppets. Isn't that a little strange?" Their attention turns to the items that were also removed from the man. The pauldron, the necklaces, the rings. "This one's more decorated than the last three."
"Sleep dying out, you think?" Misty asks. The question makes you snort.
"No way in the nine hells. The bastard has too much of an influence." While you and your friends had never actually interacted with Him, anyone in Arcadia could tell you plenty about Sleep. The deity was known for His malevolence, the way any being who follows Him becomes a hollow, mindless shell of themselves.
"Then what? This is what, the fourth one? Surely there's some explanation." Misty goes to pluck the mask off his face, but you swat her hand away. "The other three didn't have something so... regal?"
"I know exactly what's going on here." Makai uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off the wall. "Sleep's sent him. Wants to wipe out Arcadia, collect as many new followers as he can. And if I had to guess, this one's the leader."
"Just based on looks alone, you might be right." Asra nods as they pick up the necklaces the man had been wearing, carefully examining the charms. They don't seem to see anything remarkable. "But why send him in such a state?"
"Isn't it obvious? To lower our guard." Makai's tone is matter-of-fact, and it only serves to annoy you. Unfortunately, this is a very common thing he does.
"You sound ridiculous. This isn't —" You're cut off immediately. Is anyone even listening?
"Well, what should we do then?" Misty, just like the other two, now appears paranoid and ready for action. Great. Here they go again.
"Maybe we could grab the other three, send 'em all back to Sleep." Asra suggests, as if that would be something simple. If any of them were to try to get Sleep to take anyone, they'd have to do a ritual. If they did a ritual, it would give Sleep direct access to Arcadia.
"No. That's too good." Makai shakes his head. "If we're to believe this man is Sleep's favorite, we're better off nipping it in the bud."
"Makai—" You're once more cut off.
"We kill him." Makai keeps talking. "We take him right back to the ocean and drown him the way he should've. It'll send a message to Sleep, won't it?"
"Sure will. This could be His strongest one. We'd have no problem killing him while he's this weak." Misty.
"Okay, that's not—" No one is listening to you.
"What if Sleep can resurrect the dead? Possess bodies? We should—" Asra begins, but you are tired of this conversation.
"All of you, that is enough!" You finally snap, hitting your fist against the table. They all go silent to stare at you. "Makai, you are out of line. I understand your concern, but we are not about to kill this man based on paranoia!"
"Out of line, yeah, sure." Makai grumbles. "It won't be out of line when Arcadia falls apart. You saw his power out there!"
"Don't you think that if he were here on Sleep's order, he would have had a much easier time destroying Mazotz? Look at the state he's in. Sleep is not a fool, and the three of you were not trained to be one either!" You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Please have some sense, won’t you? We've had plenty of innocents die as it is. I will not approve of another based on mere speculation."
At the very least, this makes the three of them stop and actually think about things. Even if Makai looks like he's still willing to pick a fight with you. Typical.
"Even still, this is the fourth." Misty speaks up after a long period of silence. "It can't be a coincidence. There has to be some sort of explanation, I mean... Sleep's followers never break free, or at least, they never used to."
That, you can't argue with. Sure, you nor your group are experts on deities, but it was scarce for those who show up here to have come from Sleep. You'd seen folk breaking free from other gods, just never Him.
"... Please don't send me back."
The weak voice makes you and your group jump in surprise, yet there's no need to guess who spoke. You glance over at the cot, and it appears the strange man has woken up. Judging by what he said, he was likely listening to your friends discuss killing him, too. Truly a momentous first impression.
The man goes to sit up, but immediately drops right back down onto the cot with a groan. His fingers clench and unclench, his breaths a little heavier as he recovers from just that small effort alone. Your heart almost clenches in sympathy for him. Almost.
“Jury’s still out.” Makai murmurs, which earns him an elbow in the torso from Misty. Having been one of the two to lose his footing during the battle and land on his side, he shouts in pain, glaring daggers at her.
“Don’t pay him any mind.” It seems the others won’t be of any use in learning new information without scaring the man, so you take it upon yourself. “You must have had one hell of a trip to end up here, man of Sleep.”
“Vessel. Is fine.” His voice is tight, and you don’t miss the way his body has tensed. Odd, but you suppose that if he’s wound up here he likely lacks the desire to be associated with Him. His name however, is even odder.
“Vessel? Did your mother name you that?” Asra blurts out before they can consider how insulting that sounds. They mumble out an apology at the exasperated sigh you let out.
“I… don’t know.” The man - Vessel - answers, letting it roll off his back, or perhaps he doesn’t quite see the insult in the question. He makes his second attempt at sitting up with a grunt of pain, and this time Misty moves to actually help him. You hear him utter a soft “thank you” under his breath.
“How did you manage to wash up on shore? A raft of some sort?” Your questioning continues.
“I don’t know...” His head tilts down, and though you cannot see his face you get the feeling he is trying to remember. After a second he shakes his head and speaks again with more certainty. “I don’t know.”
“Where did you come from? Where do you live?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know anything?” Makai asks, but then sighs. “Apologies. What do you remember?”
Vessel’s head lowers once more, and he pulls his leg up slowly until his knee is almost against his chest. The movement is sluggish, like that one limb weighs 50 tons. He is a sizable man, and considering it took all four of you to carry him back here, it just might weigh that much. His breaths remain uneven and shaky as he tries to think of the last thing he actually remembers before waking up here.
“I just had to go. I didn’t know where, I just had to go.” He sounds defeated, lost, hollow. “Even now, I am unsure where I am. If I made it out at all.”
“Arcadia. You’re in Arcadia.” You can at least fill in that blank for him. “Why did you have to go? Are you running from something?” Did he bring that something along with him?
“I couldn’t take it anymore. My - my entire existence as I know it, it revolved around Him. Sleep.” In turn, he fills in a gap for you four. “But they told me that if I didn’t wake up, that He would be the very thing that kills me. Then, they escaped.”
“They?” Misty raises a dark brow.
“My brethren.” His throat clicks when he swallows. “No. My friends. It… was for the better that they left. I see that now more than ever.” The last part is mumbled, but it’s audible in the silence of the camp.
Friends who escaped the cult of Sleep… your mind flashes to the three who had stumbled into the heart of the village from the trees. They were bleeding, leaning on each other like they truly had nothing left to keep them going. You can’t help but wonder if the connection lies there.
“Well, you’ve certainly washed up in the right place if you’re severing ties.” Misty is the first to kind of lighten up around the man, if only to ease his concern. “It appears the gods have their eyes on you as well. That’s at least two close calls on your life.”
Vessel chuckles, but the sound is almost bitter, laced with an emotion you can’t quite place.
“The power you showed out there is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” You cut in once more. “We likely wouldn’t have had as easy of a time taking Mazotz down if not for that.” You hear Makai scoff, then his footsteps as he walks out of the tent, likely so he doesn’t mouth off again. You can already hear the argument you’ll have with him later on.
“That was one of Sleep’s… gifts.” Vessel says it like it tastes terrible in his mouth, like it was poison on his tongue. “It brings me great pain to do, but I had little choice if I wanted a chance of survival. I am glad that it aided you all.” You can hear the sincerity in his tone. What an odd man.
It’s quiet for a moment, save for the chirping of the crickets as nightfall approaches and the crackling of the campfire. There’s still tension in the air, but at the very least it has lightened a little. You shift your focus from Vessel to the pair and note them looking at you. There’s an unspoken question in their gaze, and you nod.
“You’ll be staying with us tonight. We’ve been planning on heading back to the village anyhow, and you can accompany us back there, so long as you don’t try anything during the night.” Of course, you know better than to blindly trust him fully. You decide then that you’ll definitely stay up to keep watch tonight, both over the camp and over him. He is still one of Sleep’s even if formerly; he is still a stranger with strange abilities.
“You don’t need to do that, you have already given me so much.” Vessel’s voice holds genuine disbelief, and that disbelief is mirrored in both Asra and Misty.
“Precisely, (name). You do not need to do this.” Asra stares at you as if you’ve suddenly grown three heads.
“We don’t have room for a fifth person.” Misty motions around them, and she is indeed correct. Four cots, five people.
“Someone needs to stay up to ensure our safety. And if Vessel is in fact to be trusted, we need to ensure Makai doesn’t try to cut his head off while he sleeps. He can take my cot, and that is final. It’s just for one night.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. They both look away from you and reluctantly murmur their acknowledgement.
You can tell they’re confused, frustrated, desperate to understand what’s going through your mind. Why this man? Why were you so keen on protecting him, on keeping him around longer than he needs to be? Normally you’re warier than this, not nearly as trusting.
That’s the first thing Vessel wants to know as you both sit at the fire. The other three have retired to sleep, and he’d stumbled and limped his way out here to sit with you. He has questions, and perhaps you’re the most approachable one to ask.
For the first few minutes, it’s silent. Maybe not peacefully silent, but silent nonetheless. The fire is warm against your faces, and you catch the way he subtly shifts closer to it. You don’t blame him; all he has is his semi-dry trousers and the blanket from your cot wrapped tightly around him. The silence is broken by a heavy sigh from him, but he does not look at you as he speaks. At least, you don’t think so.
“You should not have allowed me to stay.” His face is turned toward the fire, and the flames reflect off the white of his mask. “Your camp is low on resources.”
“How do you know that?” Your brows raise in surprise. He’s most definitely correct; food’s gotten a little scarce, his wounds nearly used up all of the bandages you had left, and your tent is hanging on by a thread.
“It’s hard to ignore.” He shrugs, nonchalant as if anyone could tell. “There’s four of you, you all look exhausted, and nothing you have in there is enough for four, let alone five. You could have left me for dead, you should have.” He turns his head to look at you. You almost think you can see a glimpse of eyes through the holes of his mask. “Why?”
“Observant, aren’t you.” You huff out a laugh, a tired hand rubbing at your eyes. “We’re running low, but that’s why we’re headed back to the village once the sun rises. As for my choice, well… it’s the potential.”
“The potential.” He echoes, tilting his head. “Elaborate.”
“There’s a strength in you. Hell, if I were emerging from the ocean in the middle of spring, I’d be dead from hypothermia by morning. Better yet, with how fierce those waves get? I would have washed up a corpse. Ordinary creatures don’t survive that. Hell, you got up and made it to the ruins and survived a god.”
“That was a god?” He shakes his head incredulously. “I’ve read and studied plenty about deities in my day… I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“The ones that run rampant in this land… typically they’re dying out as they lose followers, as they are forgotten. So they sharpen their blades, and seek out bloodshed. Anything that could potentially keep them alive, even if it’s due to the horrors they inflict.” Your gaze drops to the dirt beneath you. “And they do a damn good job at it.”
The family you’ve lost, the friends, the innocents. It’s the desire to avenge them that keeps you fighting. That keeps you enduring. Your fist clenches and unclenches just from the way it all angers you.
“In any case.” You quickly change the subject before you let the feelings get the better of you. “Normal folk don’t survive the things you have. And seeing the way you fought even if it pained you, that is strength. That is perseverance. Something a good warrior needs.”
“I’m just a man. Or… what remains of one. Most certainly not a warrior.” The laugh in his voice sounds self deprecating. A lack of confidence, if you had to guess.
“But you could be. You have the qualities of a true fighting spirit, and that’s something Arcadia needs.” You turn your body to face him. “Do you know how often we get a follower of Sleep in these parts?”
“I don’t.”
“Hardly ever. In fact… you’re the fourth. As far as we know? The fourth ever.” He stiffens at the admission.
“...There’s three others?” Vessel’s voice has softened considerably. “Are they alive?”
“They are indeed.” You nod, and the tension in his body begins to drain. “But you’re hardly in a state to meet them, let alone interact with most Arcadians. The red of your mask is destined to unsettle those in the village. I doubt you’ll part with it, since the other three didn’t want to part with theirs.”
“You’d be correct. This mask… it is part of me, it’s part of who I am. I am nothing without it.” What he says sounds rehearsed, like it’s something he’s been expected to say for eons. It’s in the tone of his voice; robotic almost.
“I know someone who could perhaps aid us in a compromise. Ensure you blend in far better, and perhaps this could be a new beginning for you.” You turn back towards the fire, hands hovering a few feet from the flames to warm them. “Should you decide you wish to take that step.”
You don’t expect him to have an answer tonight, you don’t expect him to even agree. With the lack of trust he has in himself, the thought of him wishing to cross that threshold is almost laughable.
“You truly believe I could become a warrior? That I am capable of such?” He’s staring back at the flames, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’ll make sure your time is well spent, if you’re in search of a mentor. The three idiots with me, I trained them all.” You jerk your head toward the tent. “Arcadia needs someone like you to keep this land from falling into ruin. More than it already has.”
“You said you knew someone who could aid us in compromise?” He doesn't give a direct answer. Not yet. “What is… compromise?”
“You’d get to keep your mask, but with a few changes to its look. Not to mention, you'll need some proper attire if you plan to stay here. Then I'd be able to present you to Veridian and train you.”
“Veridian?”
“House Veridian. It's… something that would take far too long to explain tonight. But… endurance. That's what Veridian does, it's what we are.” If you were to explain Veridian, you'd have to explain Feathered Host all the same. You'll save yourself and him the mouthful of explanation. He seems to take the little information you've given him as enough, at least for now.
“You're serious about training me?” His body turns to face you, but it doesn't happen easily. Just that little bit makes him grunt.
“I don't joke about things like this. I mean it. You could become a great warrior with the right hands guiding you.”
“Perhaps if I train well enough, I'd stand a chance against Sleep.” Against who?
“... Ambitious. We'll see where it ends.” As much as you want to hope he's joking, he doesn't sound like he is. Whatever motivates him, you suppose.
“Give me a blade and a time and a place.” Finally, he nods, and you think you see a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I look forward to your guidance.”
“You've made a good choice.” Perhaps you allow yourself a small smile as well.
“I… don't think I caught your name. Or the others. They didn't seem willing to offer me the pleasantries, and I didn't want to anger them further.” You don't blame him for being cautious about it. Especially not when they were discussing drowning him in the ocean.
“The one tending your wounds was Misty, the one who pitched your execution was Makai, third is Asra. My name is (name). Perhaps we should have started there.” You extend your hand for a shake, and after a bit of effort he takes it. He's weak, but his hold is surprisingly firm.
“Well met.” He lets go first, nodding his head politely. “Was it you back there?”
“Hm?”
“The one who prevented me from getting sliced to ribbons.”
“Ah. It was me, yes.” Your arms are still sore from it. You can still hear the scrape of your blade against the gods’ as you battled for the upper hand.
“Thank you then, for saving me. I am truly in your debt. You've shown me kindness that I've no idea how to repay.” He means it, you know he does. It's that slight waver in his voice as though he's fighting off tears. He clears his throat, which then turns into a small coughing fit.
“Repay me with your loyalty and dedication. I do not need anything. Arcadia needs everything.” Your words hang in the air, and when he doesn't respond you take that as the end of the conversation. “You should rest. You've had an eventful day.”
“That I have.” Vessel doesn't challenge you, instead he plants his hands on the ground, mustering as much effort as he can to lift himself off the ground. You quickly stand to help him up and offer your arm to steady him as he walks back in.
The sigh of relief he lets out as he lays back against the cot is loud, and there's an anxious pause after, likely out of worry he woke someone up. When there's no sound following it, the tension lifts once more.
“Goodnight, (name).” It's the first time he says your name, and he says it like a praise. Like a word of worship.
“Rest well, Vessel.” You turn away, walking back toward the entrance of the tent to get back to your post.
Before you can get there, a hand is suddenly on your shoulder, holding firm. You saw this coming.
“Your intuition best be correct about this one.” Makai’s voice is low, growly in nature. “If he is the final nail in the coffin for Arcadia, I will not save your tail.”
“Are you threatening me, Makai?” Your voice holds a dangerous edge to it as well. You understand why he's acting like this, you're one of the few who understands anything about him. However, that doesn't mean you intend to tolerate this.
“I would never threaten you.” He shakes his head. “That is why I am promising you. If Vessel brings hell to our home, I will ensure they know it was you who let that hell in.”
“I expect nothing less from you. Hell, I value your honesty. That being said, see to it that this sour mood of yours doesn't get more out of hand than it already has. I have always been good to you, I would not intentionally steer any of you in the wrong direction.” You can hardly see him in the low light, but you manage to find his shoulder. You squeeze it, not hard enough to hurt but for him to recall that you are still the one in charge.
“My mood is not sour, (name).” His voice raises enough for him to notice, and he goes quiet. With a sigh, he relents. You know he hates when you're right. “What I said still stands.”
“Good. I’d rather have a soldier that's willing to hold me accountable than one who does not. All I ask is that you give him a chance. The four of us have always been a team, and we cannot afford even one person planting seeds of doubt. All I ask is that you trust me.” Your grip loosens as well as your guard, your professionalism. “Please.”
“...Fine.” He releases your shoulder. “But the second I see trouble—”
“You will be the one to bring the blade to his throat.” You finish his sentence for him with a chuckle. “Ever the predictable one, my friend.”
“Shut up.” He grumbles, though even he has allowed himself the softest of chuckles in his voice. “Someone has to be realistic.”
“You mean ruthless.”
“Same difference.” You won't argue with him, he never budges.
“You should rest, Makai. I'll make sure a healer tends to your side when we arrive, I wouldn't be surprised if you broke a few ribs. Not to mention, your brother would prefer to see you when you're at least a little rested.” You smile, even though he cannot see it. Your hand drops back to your side.
“Gods, you're right. I might let the next one take me if I have to hear him lecture me like he's my father.” Makai groans as if he can already hear it. “Goodnight, (name).”
Satisfied, you continue your journey back out of the tent. But not without speaking over your shoulder.
“Makai.”
“Yes?” His silhouette is seated on his cot.
“His head best be attached to his body come morning.” He likely won't actually kill Vessel in his sleep, but you'd rather say it just to give yourself some reassurance.
“Damn, plans foiled.” His laugh is dry, and you know he's joking… Well, you hope he's joking. “No heads will be detached from any bodies, you have my word.”
That night, you are seated alone in front of the fire, and your racing thoughts keep you awake. Thoughts of the day, of everything you must do once you get to Arcadia, and of course, of Vessel.
Followers of Sleep, suddenly breaking free and winding up here. Before the last few months, it was unheard of, it was meant to remain unheard of. Yet against all odds, here they are.
The winds feel different, as if there's some sort of change already peering over the horizon. The crickets seem louder, and the future has an uncertainty that used to make you feel uneasy. It feels… lighter somehow. You're not sure what it is.
Vessel, formerly of Sleep, soon to be your trainee in Arcadia. Your life is most definitely about to become far more interesting.
make sure to include the pairing(s) you are wanting these questions to be answered for . these should work for poly ships as well as monogamous . feel free to edit these as you see fit .
💕 How did they both realize “oh wait, this is actually love”?
🌹 Who fell harder & who fell first?
🫂 What’s their favorite way to hold each other when words aren’t enough?
🔥 What’s the pettiest thing they’ve ever argued about?
💋 Who says “I love you” first & how?
🌙 Who’s the little spoon & who pretends they hate it but secretly loves it?
💍 Would they ever get married? What would the proposal look like?
🧸 Who still has the very first gift the other ever gave them?
😈 Who is more likely to start chaos “for the vine” & who films it?
🎶 What’s their song - the one that makes them both tear up / grin like idiots?
☕ Who’s the morning person & how do they lure the night owl out of bed?
🛡️ Who jumps in front of danger for the other without thinking?
😳 What’s the most embarrassing thing they’ve walked in on the other doing?
💔 What’s the one fight that almost ended them?
🩹 How do they comfort each other after nightmares?
👀 Who gets jealous more easily & how obvious are they about it?
🍳 Who cooks & who sets off the smoke alarm trying to help?
🧳 If they had to run away together tomorrow, where would they go?
😏 Who is bolder in public (hand-holding, kisses, etc.)?
🌧️ Who steals whose hoodies when it rains?
🎂 How do they celebrate each other’s birthdays?
🖤 What’s the darkest “we’ll never tell anyone” thing they’ve done together?
💌 Who leaves little love notes & where do they hide them?
🛌 Who hogs the blanket & who ends up freezing dramatically?
😴 Who falls asleep first & who watches them with heart-eyes?
🚪 Who’s more likely to say “we’re not leaving this room today”?
🌸 What nickname do they have for each other that would mortify them if others heard?
🎤 Who sings in the shower & who secretly records it for blackmail?
💞 How do they act when one of them is sick?
🩸 Who would literally kill for the other & who would help hide the body?
🌅 Do they go on sunrise / stargazing dates? Which one do they love more?
😤 Who apologizes first after a fight, even if they weren’t wrong?
🧩 What tiny habit of the other do they find unbearably adorable?
🎪 Who plans elaborate surprise dates & who just wants to stay in?
👑 In their relationship, who’s the king / queen & who’s the knight / advisor?
🌪️ What’s the most chaotic thing they’ve done together on pure impulse?
💤 Who has the weirdest sleep-talking lines that the other quotes constantly?
🧡 What color reminds each of them of the other?
🕰️ If they could go back in time, what moment would they relive together?
😶 Who’s terrified of saying “meet my parents” & why?
🍷 Who gets tipsy first & starts spilling embarrassing love confessions?
🌿 Do they want kids/pets/plants together? What do they name them?
🪞 Who takes longer getting ready & who hypes the other up in the mirror?
💥 What’s the biggest risk one of them took for the other that the partner didn’t find out about until much later?
🧣 Who steals the other’s scarf / gloves “on accident” every winter?
🌌 What’s their “we made it through hell” memory they’ll tell their grandkids?
😘 Who kisses the other first thing in the morning, morning breath & all?
🩰 Slow dancing in the kitchen at 3 a.m. - who starts it?
⚓ If one of them had to leave forever, what would they leave behind for the other?
💫 Ten years from now, what random Tuesday are they spending together?
i dug my heels into the gravel
as evidence for you to unravel
a drag path, etched in the surface
can you find me?
(@mythrite @throattofgods Heyyyyyyyyyy.......)
i guess we doing tøp now. me and my singer who may or not be stuck in a time loop with some sort of fucked up cult entity with powers and deer symbolism and hoods and cloaks. Awesome
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