I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.
I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:
Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)
Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)
Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often
Eat dessert first
Celebrate well, and often
Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)
Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.
Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate
Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)
Walk without having a specific destination or goal
Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.
I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.
Previous chapter ran for 7 pages to set up and run a conflict.
Next chapter ran for 3 pages to resolve the conflict.
Writer moots, I would appreciate suggestions on how to pad out the next chapter and extend the number of its pages. A conversation could help stretch it out a bit, but I've no idea where to put it as to not break the tension.
Been told to flesh out character relationships a bit more, show more character reactions, and explain consequences, and that helped out a lot to establish a very nice chain of events that feel natural in the middle of a lengthy, agonizing battle. I can't wait to finish this scene and do terminology and consistency edits!
⤷ Sasuke is on strict bed rest after Killer Bee fight, and his hand is firmly tangled in Karin’s hair. Not a big deal, but he won't let go.
Karin faces the ultimate dilemma: do chores, or stay completely still so the boy of her dreams keeps touching her?
- sasukarin.
• Team Hebi | Team Taka (Naruto), Post-Killer Bee Fight, Recovery, Bed Rest, Soft Sasuke (but still a jerk), Fluff and Humor, Sensory Details, Hair stroking, Pining Karin, Domestic Taka, Light Angst, Romantic Comedy
• published date: 2026-06-20
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
The Akatsuki safehouse smelled like damp concrete, cheap tatami mats, and the sharp tang of copper-scented medicinal salve. It was a miserable little hideout, tucked into the jagged shadows of a ravine, but it was the only place Taka could collapse without being hunted down like dogs.
The fight with Killer Bee had been a disaster. If it hadn't been for Karin’s chakra, Jūgo’s flesh, and a desperate, blinding manifestation of Amaterasu, they would all be dead.
Currently, the grand avenger of the Uchiha clan was reduced to a grumpy, heavily bandaged lump on a futon.
Karin sat on the edge of the low bedding, her knees tucked beneath her. In her lap, she held an empty wooden bowl that had, until ten minutes ago, contained a simple, hastily prepared rice porridge with pickled plum. It wasn't gourmet, but given their lack of supplies, it was a minor miracle she’d conjured anything edible at all.
She shouldn't be sitting here. The sink across the tiny kitchen alcove was piling up with crusty pots, and Suigetsu had already threatened to use his Hydrification Technique to wash them if she didn't—which meant soap suds in their drinking water. She really needed to get up.
But she couldn't move.
Because Uchiha Sasuke’s left hand was buried deep in her hair.
It had started innocently enough, or as innocently as anything involving Sasuke could start. She had leaned over to wipe a stray smudge of porridge from his chin, her thick, unevenly cropped red locks cascading over her shoulder. Sasuke had grunted, his dark eyes cloudy with the lingering haze of heavy painkillers and exhaustion.
Instead of batting her away like he usually did, his pale, scarred hand had risen from the blanket. His long fingers had hooked into the vibrant crimson strands near her shoulder, curling lazily around them.
And there they stayed.
Karin froze. Her breath caught in her throat, her glasses slipping an inch down the bridge of her nose. Her heart, suddenly betraying her entirely, began to hammer against her ribs like a trapped sparrow.
"Is this a dream?" she thought wildly, her eyes darting around the dim room to ensure she hadn't fallen under a genjutsu. "Sasuke is... he's touching me. Voluntarily. Without me having to fake an injury or throw myself at him!"
Slowly, Sasuke ran his fingers upward. The rough, calloused texture of his fingertips scraped lightly against her scalp, sending a violent, electric shiver straight down her spine. He didn't say a word. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tight, his expression an unreadable mask of brooding stoicism. But his hand kept moving, parting the thick, chaotic layers of her hair, smoothing them out, and then clenching slightly at the roots.
"S-Sasuke?" Karin squeaked. Her voice was an octave higher than normal.
Sasuke didn't blink. "What."
"I... I need to wash the bowl."
"Do it later." His voice was raspy, deep, and utterly unyielding. To emphasize his point, his fingers tightened just a fraction, anchoring her in place. He didn't pull hard enough to hurt, but the possessive weight of his hand was an absolute dictate.
Karin swallowed hard. Her mind split into two fiercely warring factions.
Faction A (The Rational Sensor): This is ridiculous. He’s just bored, or delirious from losing half his chest tissue to the Eight-Tails. You have chores to do, and if you stay like this, you're going to look pathetic. Move!
Faction B (The Eternal Fangirl): IF YOU MOVE, YOU ARE THE STUPIDEST WOMAN ALIVE. If you take one step away, he will close himself off again. He will become the cold, untouchable Uchiha, and you will never, ever get to feel his hand in your hair again. Die in this spot if you have to!
Faction B won a resounding, unanimous victory. Karin stayed glued to the floor.
From the open doorway connecting the cramped bedroom to the main living area, a soft, wet snort echoed.
Karin’s eyes snapped toward the sound, her romantic delusion instantly fracturing.
Suigetsu was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, a massive, jagged grin splitting his face. His sharp, shark-like teeth gleamed in the dim light. Beside him, Jūgo stood like a massive, silent sentinel, though his usually placid eyes held a distinct, unmistakable glint of amusement.
"Well, well," Suigetsu drawled, his voice dripping with mock-innocence. "Look at the fierce rogue ninja. Out here conquering nations, but currently defeated by a bird’s nest of red hair."
"Shut up, Suigetsu!" Karin hissed, trying to keep her head perfectly still so she wouldn't disrupt Sasuke's hand. She glared at the swordsman with enough venom to kill a summoning toad. "He’s resting! He needs quiet!"
"Oh, he looks very restful to me," Suigetsu chuckled, walking into the room with deliberate, noisy steps. He leaned over Karin’s shoulder, peering down at Sasuke. "Hey, Sasuke. Is it soft? It looks kinda coarse from here. Like dried straw. Or maybe a tomato that exploded."
A dangerous, icy spike of chakra flared in the room. It didn't come from Karin.
Sasuke’s dark eyes shifted slowly from the ceiling to fixate on Suigetsu. The menace in that gaze would have made a lesser ninja flee the country. Even with half his ribs cracked and his internal organs still knitting together under a layer of medic-nin paste, the Uchiha aura was fully operational.
"Suigetsu," Sasuke said softly, his voice dangerously low.
"Yeah, boss?"
"If you don't leave the room in the next three seconds, I will use whatever chakra I have left to Amaterasu your water-bottle body into steam."
Suigetsu raised his hands in mock surrender, though he didn't look particularly threatened. "Hey, I’m just looking out for the team. Karin’s been sitting there for thirty minutes like a statue. I think her legs are falling asleep. And frankly, the kitchen is a mess."
"Jūgo," Sasuke muttered, ignoring the swordsman entirely.
"I'll take him outside," Jūgo replied instantly. He reached out, grabbed Suigetsu by the back of his purple high-collar shirt, and began dragging him backward out of the room.
"Hey! Let go! Jūgo, you giant ape, I wanted to see if he was gonna braid it!" Suigetsu’s complaints faded down the hallway, followed by the heavy thud of the safehouse’s front door closing.
Silence reclaimed the room, thick and heavy.
Karin let out a long, shaky breath, her shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry about him, Sasuke. He has no boundaries."
Sasuke didn't answer. His hand had stopped moving for a moment during the interruption, resting heavily against the back of her head, the warmth of his palm seeping through her hair to the skin of her neck. Now, as the silence stretched, his fingers began to move again.
Slowly. Rhythmically.
He slid his hand downward, tracing the uneven line where her hair had been roughly cut, a stark reminder of her past, of the rough life she’d led before Orochimaru, and the even rougher life she led now.
To anyone else, Karin’s hair was loud, absurd, and a dead giveaway of her Uzumaki lineage. To Sasuke, right now, it feels like a anchor. The texture was thick, slightly wild, and vibrantly alive. After days of touching nothing but cold steel, burning fire, and the edge of his own mortality, the heat radiating from Karin’s scalp seems grounding.
Karin watched him out of the corner of her eye. Without his usual Akatsuki cloak or usual clothes, clad only in loose, grey medical pants and bandages wrapped tight around his torso, he looked younger. Vulnerable, almost. The sharp line of his collarbone was prominent, moving slightly with each shallow breath.
"Does it hurt?" she asked softly, her voice losing its usual abrasive edge.
"No," Sasuke lied automatically.
Karin frowned, her sensor abilities flaring slightly to read his network. "You're lying. Your chakra pathways are still constricted near your lungs. You shouldn't even be moving too much or lift your arm like that as you are."
"Then don't move," he said.
The bluntness of his words caught her off guard. She looked down at him, her heart doing a frantic tap-dance again. Sasuke was looking at her now. Not with the cold gaze he used when planning a mission, nor with the manic, bloodthirsty intensity he’d shown in the Killer Bee fight.
It was a dark, exhausting look, heavy with a strange kind of exhaustion that went deeper than physical injury.
"If you move, the pulling hurts," he clarified, though his tone was entirely devoid of actual complaint. It sounded more like a poorly constructed excuse to keep her exactly where she was.
Karin felt a flush creeping up her neck, hot and rapid, dyeing her cheeks a color that matched her hair. "He... he wants me here. He’s using an excuse to keep me close."
"I... I see," she stammered, completely losing her ability to function as a mature kunoichi. "Then... I guess I won't move. For your sake. Obviously. Just for medical reasons."
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
Sasuke’s movements grew slower, his eyelids drooping slightly as the exhaustion of his healing body began to reclaim him. Yet, his fingers remained firmly entangled in her hair. Every time he seemed to drift off, his grip would tighten a little, as if ensuring she hadn't slipped away.
Karin’s left leg was completely numb. A sensation like hundreds of tiny needles was pricking her foot, and she desperately wanted to shift her weight.
The smell of the dirty porridge bowl in her lap was starting to bother her. She was a neat freak by nature, living in Orochimaru’s pristine hideouts had ingrained a strict sense of cleanliness in her. The thought of the dried rice starch hardening on the wood was causing her physical anxiety.
"Just slide out out of it," the rational part of her brain pleaded. "Just gently untangle his fingers, put a pillow under his hand, and go wash the dish. It will take two minutes!"
"Nooo!" the other part screamed. "Look at him! He looks so peaceful. If you wake him up or pull away, he’ll realize he’s being human and go back to being an emotionless rock! Do you want to ruin this?!"
She closed her eyes, agonizing over the dilemma.
Suddenly, Sasuke’s thumb brushed against the shell of her ear. It was an accidental movement, a mere slip of his hand as he shifted on the pillow, but the sensation made Karin jump.
"Ah!" she gasped, her knee jerking upward.
The wooden bowl in her lap rattled dangerously. Sasuke’s eyes snapped open, instantly clear and sharp, the instinct of a hunted missing-nin overriding his fatigue. His grip on her hair tightened automatically, pulling her down a few inches closer to his face.
"What is it?" he demanded, his voice sharp. "An enemy?"
"N-no! No!" Karin said quickly, her face mere inches from his now. She could smell the minty herb paste on his bandages and see the tiny flecks of dark grey in his irises. "No enemy! I just... my leg fell asleep. And... and I really need to wash this bowl please, Sasuke."
Sasuke stared up at her. Way longer. The proximity was dizzying. Karin could see the faint pulse in his throat. For a second, she thought he was going to snap at her, to tell her she was annoying and push her away. Her heart sank, bracing for the inevitable rejection.
Instead, Sasuke let out a long, slow sigh through his nose.
He didn't let go of her hair.
"Bring the basin here," he muttered.
Karin blinked, her brain stalling. "What?"
"The dishes," Sasuke said, his voice laced with irritated patience. "Bring them here. Wash them next to the futon."
"Are you insane?!" Karin squawked, her usual loud demeanor slipping back into place. "I can't bring a washbasin, soap, and dirty pots into the sleeping area! It'll get water all over the tatami! And besides, how am I supposed to carry all that here without moving my head?!"
Sasuke’s brow furrowed, a faint line appearing between his eyes. He looked genuinely annoyed that his logic had failed. He looked at his own hand, still buried in the bright red strands, as if realizing for the first time that he was the one causing the logistical nightmare.
For a moment, Karin thought "This is it." He’s going to let go.
His fingers loosened. The tension dropped. Karin felt a sudden, distinct pang of grief in her chest. The coldness of the room seemed to rush back in to fill the void.
But he didn't pull his hand away completely. Instead, his hand slid down from the roots of her hair, tracing the length of it until he caught the very ends of the strands, twirling them loosely around his index finger.
"Then stay," he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper that was barely audible over the sound of the wind howling outside the ravine. He closed his eyes again, his head sinking deeper into the pillow. "The dishes can wait."
Karin sat frozen, her breath entirely suspended.
The rejection hadn't come. He had chosen the dirty dishes over letting her leave. It was a bizarre, twisted version of domesticity, completely warped by Uchiha dysfunction and the trauma of their lives, but to Karin, it was everything.
A slow, radiant smile spread across her face. She carefully set the empty bowl on the floor beside the futon, making sure not to pull on his hand. Then, with agonizing slowness, she shifted her weight, sliding off her numb leg and stretching it out beside the bedding.
Sasuke didn't stir, though his finger remained hooked in her hair, a tiny, bright red thread binding them together in the quiet dark of the safehouse.
From the hallway, the door creaked open again.
"Hey, Karin," Suigetsu’s voice whispered loudly from the crack in the door. "Jūgo found some wild berries. You want some, or are you still acting as an Uchiha headrest?"
Karin didn't even yell this time. She simply picked up her discarded eyeglasses from her lap, threw them with pinpoint accuracy at Suigetsu’s face, gave a little splash of water, and went back to watching Sasuke sleep.
The dishes could rot for all she cared. This is way important.
All works belongs exclusively to the author. Do not reupload, translate, rewrite, or alter my creations without permission. It's officially shared only via Tumblr and AO3.
Adding onto my list of embarrassing horror stories as an adult living in this era of "We want data on your identity or no service for you": Despite giving proof of my identity, the banking app I was using basically told me it can't use my personal data to authenticate my transaction because it requires a higher-end phone that enables me to give another form of my proof of identity, even though there was a perfectly nice and available option of simply asking me to enter a passcode for authentication, and now I'm sobbing like a wet mess because the payment processor locked me out of paying for my insurance.
it’s funny how we’re getting to the point in the AI lifespan where you can feel the desperation from tech companies to have you use their AI features. instagram has moved their AI effects to the top of the menu when you’re creating a post for your story, exactly where the draw/edit button used to be. gmail is creating one-click AI-generated replies right before you open up the text box. spotify put a beta AI playlist generator on the front page that looks just like a search bar so all of their users accidentally click on it when they go to search for a song.
tech companies are shaking in their boots trying to prove to shareholders that their investment in AI is worth it, to the point where they’re tricking their users into using the AI features even for a split second in order to fudge the numbers. like awww is your little environment-destroying toy not wielding the results you hoped for? so sad!
Previous chapter ran for 7 pages to set up and run a conflict.
Next chapter ran for 3 pages to resolve the conflict.
Writer moots, I would appreciate suggestions on how to pad out the next chapter and extend the number of its pages. A conversation could help stretch it out a bit, but I've no idea where to put it as to not break the tension.
everyone talks about the ocasional like from the respected mutual that makes you go oh thank god you haven't unfollowed me but no one ever talks about how it will never be on a good post. it's never you at your posting best it's always on some bullshit like: made sanbwich. with loaf (bad pun for love)
Next month I finally start my overnight shift at the lab and while I'm not sure how easily I'll adjust to becoming fully nocturnal, and not sure if I'll want to remain on night shift forever, I do think it's funny that my trainers so far have been gassing me up as a potential overnight supervisor if I can stick it out, and not just because I'm basically a natural at everything they're showing me but also because it will be a really funny bit for them to turn future new hires over to the pale and ethereally beautiful overnight supervisor named Carmilla who looks much younger than she actually is and works with the lab's blood samples. imagine being a new hire at a big empty overnight laboratory and your supe Carmilla adds you to her team slack channel and it's called #thralls
There’s an emotion only unlocked when you live in a house with multiple stories. I call it “the stair emotion” and it’s when you realize the object you need is on the other side of yet another trip up and down those goddamn stairs. It’s the closest I get to transcending the desire for material goods. Maybe I don’t need that notebook. Maybe I don’t need anything.
Summary: Moment stones were once a cherished magic tool that records precious memories, but they were outlawed due to wide misuse and unlawful surveillance. While decluttering the house she inherited from her great grandmother, Belleritze Kunniger finds a moment stone that depicts a charming young boy called Davonikh, a name forbidden to be uttered in their household. With only the moment stone and her family's unease as her clues, Belleritze sets out to find Davonikh and uncover the secret of her bloodline.
A/N: Hi! Please welcome my scrapped novel which was supposed to be entered for a contest with the theme "uplifting stories". I absolutely love it, but I don't feel as attached to it anymore. It's a 1st-person POV story aimed at adults... really, don't ask me about the genre. It's weird.
Magic, much like science, is quite a great tool. It's such a rich and colorful field of study, that people scramble to invent all sorts of things based on its principles. One of such inventions was the moment stone.
The moment stone, like its name implies, preserves a moment in one's life. For the wealthy, to show off all sorts of novelties they gathered. For the working class, to record the family genealogy for the reference of the younger generation. For the poor, to remember the rare good times that they can afford. Once used, a moment stone cannot record any new things.
Most moment stones were displayed back in the day, but then, people started using them to spy on one another and take personal details without consent. Huge debates sparked between labs and courts, and ultimately, moment stones disappeared from shelves. A few of them remain in government custody and the museums, but for everyday citizens, their only hope of ever seeing one in person was if someone's great grandmother had it buried in her attic and said someone found it.
That said someone is I, Belleritz Kunniger.
I behold the craft of the moment stone in my hands. Like what the books show, it is the size of one's palm and looks much like a bottle of expensive perfume with the dainty crystalline cuts and without the neck. Beyond the glass of the exterior, I can see the arcanium, metal pieces, and other mechanisms that make the magic work. The moment stone is supposedly sturdy enough to survive falls, but it seems quite fragile.
To activate it, one is supposed to rub along the engraved runes. I am unfamiliar with what they might mean, but I glide my finger along the strokes and grooves of the characters, light activating on each spot I touch. If the moment stone contains something interesting, I'll take it to the museum; if not, I'll drop it off at the court and see what they want to do with it. If neither of those want this stone, I'll get cousin Freyn to take it to the lab.
The arcanium within the moment stone vibrates, making the stone tremble in my grasp, and I watch a mist swirl before me and unveil a boy no older than five or six.
The boy has red hair much like my own, and though his smile is quite charming, he is a stranger to me. In his hand is a ball of light, and I see leaves and vines and flowers sprouting from it. A young elementalist prodigy!
Then says a voice not unlike my great grandmother's: "Davonikh!"
I almost drop the stone as the mist dissipates. Davonikh. I remember that name. Davonikh. It's not a common name by modern standards, not even that common back in my great grandmother's day, but it's a name that, when uttered in the Kunniger household, stills the atmosphere and makes my heart pound as my uncle tells everyone to never say it again. Davonikh.
The weather tiday is quite warm and the attic is even hotter, but hearing the forbidden name makes it so chilly. I navigate the labyrinth of boxes and thingamajigs to the trapdoor and descend down to the kitchen to grab a drink. The water fails to soothe me, and I jump when I realize I've brought the moment stone with me. Someone calls from outside, and I barely have time to hide the moment stone in my pocket before the door swings open.
It is cousin Freyn, who's been helping me sort the house.
"Look at what I found, Ritze," he announces as he shows off newspaper after newspaper. "Zilessia the Star Jockey! Our folk were pretty sentimental about great grandma, weren't they?"
"Y-yeah, sure they were."
"Did you find anything good yet?"
I lie. "Not really. Just a bunch of old clothes, furnitures, toolboxes. Portraits."
"No moment stones?"
"I... will keep an eye for them."
"Well, if you find any, let me know so I can take it to the lab."
He drops off the newspapers in our pile of recyclables, which were bound to disappear into society. I don't like the idea of keeping the moment stone I found, but I don't like the idea of putting it away for good, either.
In fact, why had my family ever explained to us who Davonikh was?
"Don't you want them for sentimental value?" I ask.
"Sentiments can't put food on your table. Besides, these people who care, they're mostly dead. Grammy Zi was the youngest of her siblings, and the next generation has three aged folks who can barely remember their immediate family. Who'd remember their items? That's why you shouldn't really invest in collecting so much junk."
"So... you'd disregard the wishes of the dead, yes?"
"Yeah. Call me unethical for it, but we can't keep holding onto these things, you know. Life goes on!" Freyn pauses, then his mouth widens into a grin as he approaches me. "Waaaiiit, you found something."
"Maybe I did. Depends on what you think of the past, maybe."
"Well, I forgive and forget. So. Moment stone?"
"Maybe."
"Moment stone with some intrigue?"
"Maybe."
"A long-lost lover? An embarrassing moment? A highlight of Grammy Zi's career?"
"No, something far more intriguing. More scandalous."
Freyn raises his brows. "Alright, you convinced me. You can keep it, but you must show me."
I take a deep breath. I dip my hand in my pocket and reveal the moment stone. Freyn carefully takes the moment stone and examines it, before activating it himself. Just like with myself, Freyn doesn't think much of the boy in the mist, until my great grandmother's voice says, once more:
"Davonikh!"
In fact, Freyn almost drops it. I seize the stone from him and pocket it once more.
"My word! That is quite the scandal!"
"I know."
Freyn lets himself sink into one of the chairs standing in the hallway. I watch his face flick between all sorts of emotions.
"Belleritze, do you even know who Davonikh is?"
"No. Do you?"
"Not really."
"So... why are we afraid to know more about him?"
Freyn stares at me and I bite my lip. He might be older, but I know even he knows little about the mystery boy and why our relatives would rather catch us dead than hear us talk about him.
"Logic dictates we can do something about it, but my heart says we shouldn't." Freyn sighs. "I can't take this to the lab, and I'm sure it doesn't have much significance to the government either. You're better off donating this to the museum - wait, no, we can't have any Kunniger see that boy, we should throw it away or something."
"I can't just do that. Who knows, maybe he's an important part of Grammy Zi."
Freyn tries to find an argument, but his mouth simply opens and closes like a fish. Finally, he says, "Honestly, it's your call. The moment stone's technically your property now, and like I said, the ones who might've seen value in it are now gone."
"That's right."
"If you do decide to uncover the truth, which I don't think really matters that much in the long run, but... I can't really back you up if things get chaotic, Ritze."
I think about all our aunts and uncles. I think about our other cousins and my parents. Then I think about Great-Grandmother Zilessia, the belle of the family in her time, the star jockey of the sky lanes.
It was forbidden to speak of Davonihk, but Grammy Zi kept a moment stone of him, nonetheless.
I close my eyes and nod. "I'll take the risk."
Magic, much like science, is quite a great tool. It's such a rich and colorful field of study, that people scramble to invent all sorts of things based on its principles. One of such inventions was the moment stone.
The moment stone, like its name implies, preserves a moment in one's life. For the wealthy, to show off all sorts of novelties they gathered. For the working class, to record the family genealogy for the reference of the younger generation. For the poor, to remember the rare good times that they can afford. Once used, a moment stone cannot record any new things.
Most moment stones were displayed back in the day, but then, people started using them to spy on one another and take personal details without consent. Huge debates sparked between labs and courts, and ultimately, moment stones disappeared from shelves. A few of them remain in government custody and the museums, but for everyday citizens, their only hope of ever seeing one in person was if someone's great grandmother had it buried in her attic and said someone found it.
That said someone is I, Belleritz Kunniger.
I behold the craft of the moment stone in my hands. Like what the books show, it is the size of one's palm and looks much like a bottle of expensive perfume with the dainty crystalline cuts and without the neck. Beyond the glass of the exterior, I can see the arcanium, metal pieces, and other mechanisms that make the magic work. The moment stone is supposedly sturdy enough to survive falls, but it seems quite fragile.
To activate it, one is supposed to rub along the engraved runes. I am unfamiliar with what they might mean, but I glide my finger along the strokes and grooves of the characters, light activating on each spot I touch. If the moment stone contains something interesting, I'll take it to the museum; if not, I'll drop it off at the court and see what they want to do with it. If neither of those want this stone, I'll get cousin Freyn to take it to the lab.
The arcanium within the moment stone vibrates, making the stone tremble in my grasp, and I watch a mist swirl before me and unveil a boy no older than five or six.
The boy has red hair much like my own, and though his smile is quite charming, he is a stranger to me. In his hand is a ball of light, and I see leaves and vines and flowers sprouting from it. A young elementalist prodigy!
Then says a voice not unlike my great grandmother's: "Davonikh!"
I almost drop the stone as the mist dissipates. Davonikh. I remember that name. Davonikh. It's not a common name by modern standards, not even that common back in my great grandmother's day, but it's a name that, when uttered in the Kunniger household, stills the atmosphere and makes my heart pound as my uncle tells everyone to never say it again. Davonikh.
The weather tiday is quite warm and the attic is even hotter, but hearing the forbidden name makes it so chilly. I navigate the labyrinth of boxes and thingamajigs to the trapdoor and descend down to the kitchen to grab a drink. The water fails to soothe me, and I jump when I realize I've brought the moment stone with me. Someone calls from outside, and I barely have time to hide the moment stone in my pocket before the door swings open.
It is cousin Freyn, who's been helping me sort the house.
"Look at what I found, Ritze," he announces as he shows off newspaper after newspaper. "Zilessia the Star Jockey! Our folk were pretty sentimental about great grandma, weren't they?"
"Y-yeah, sure they were."
"Did you find anything good yet?"
I lie. "Not really. Just a bunch of old clothes, furnitures, toolboxes. Portraits."
"No moment stones?"
"I... will keep an eye for them."
"Well, if you find any, let me know so I can take it to the lab."
He drops off the newspapers in our pile of recyclables, which were bound to disappear into society. I don't like the idea of keeping the moment stone I found, but I don't like the idea of putting it away for good, either.
In fact, why had my family ever explained to us who Davonikh was?
"Don't you want them for sentimental value?" I ask.
"Sentiments can't put food on your table. Besides, these people who care, they're mostly dead. Grammy Zi was the youngest of her siblings, and the next generation has three aged folks who can barely remember their immediate family. Who'd remember their items? That's why you shouldn't really invest in collecting so much junk."
"So... you'd disregard the wishes of the dead, yes?"
"Yeah. Call me unethical for it, but we can't keep holding onto these things, you know. Life goes on!" Freyn pauses, then his mouth widens into a grin as he approaches me. "Waaaiiit, you found something."
"Maybe I did. Depends on what you think of the past, maybe."
"Well, I forgive and forget. So. Moment stone?"
"Maybe."
"Moment stone with some intrigue?"
"Maybe."
"A long-lost lover? An embarrassing moment? A highlight of Grammy Zi's career?"
"No, something far more intriguing. More scandalous."
Freyn raises his brows. "Alright, you convinced me. You can keep it, but you must show me."
I take a deep breath. I dip my hand in my pocket and reveal the moment stone. Freyn carefully takes the moment stone and examines it, before activating it himself. Just like with myself, Freyn doesn't think much of the boy in the mist, until my great grandmother's voice says, once more:
"Davonikh!"
In fact, Freyn almost drops it. I seize the stone from him and pocket it once more.
"My word! That is quite the scandal!"
"I know."
Freyn lets himself sink into one of the chairs standing in the hallway. I watch his face flick between all sorts of emotions.
"Belleritze, do you even know who Davonikh is?"
"No. Do you?"
"Not really."
"So... why are we afraid to know more about him?"
Freyn stares at me and I bite my lip. He might be older, but I know even he knows little about the mystery boy and why our relatives would rather catch us dead than hear us talk about him.
"Logic dictates we can do something about it, but my heart says we shouldn't." Freyn sighs. "I can't take this to the lab, and I'm sure it doesn't have much significance to the government either. You're better off donating this to the museum - wait, no, we can't have any Kunniger see that boy, we should throw it away or something."
"I can't just do that. Who knows, maybe he's an important part of Grammy Zi."
Freyn tries to find an argument, but his mouth simply opens and closes like a fish. Finally, he says, "Honestly, it's your call. The moment stone's technically your property now, and like I said, the ones who might've seen value in it are now gone."
"That's right."
"If you do decide to uncover the truth, which I don't think really matters that much in the long run, but... I can't really back you up if things get chaotic, Ritze."
I think about all our aunts and uncles. I think about our other cousins and my parents. Then I think about Great-Grandmother Zilessia, the belle of the family in her time, the star jockey of the sky lanes.
It was forbidden to speak of Davonihk, but Grammy Zi kept a moment stone of him, nonetheless.
I close my eyes and nod. "I'll take the risk."
A/N: This story was meant to be a 25-chapter novel, but I found it difficult to express the theme through my concepts for it and the conflict felt like it dragged on for too long to fit 25 chapters. I also had a character named Kurt Lugors, who was intended to be a love interest that will allow me to write a mature and very grounded take on romance, and I'm sad to let him go. But it's all for the best.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this scrapped idea! And yes, this takes place within the Arcanium universe too, within one of the sky islands of Crystallistes.
