acheron being an ass woman is so embarrassing. she'll keep your hips in the air with you face buried in the pillow, muffling your whines as she takes a good, good look at you. her hands will start at your waist, slide down your hips, and pull your ass apart just to inspect how wet you've gotten for her. she'll even give a couple filthy comments in review as she slides a finger through your folds to gather up your wetness before giving your ass a well-earned smack. when you cry out, she's quick to comfort you with a thumb slipping into your cunt as she leans over to kiss up your back... she's obsessed...
Summary: Surprises with select members of the Lighting Type
Pairing: Acheron X G/N!Reader, Aglaea X G/N!Reader, Ashveil X G/N!Reader, Jing Yuan X G/N!Reader, Kafka X G/N!Reader, Moze X G/N!Reader, Serval X G/N!Reader
Genre: Fluff Reaction
Word Count: 3867
Warning: N/A
Masterlist
Acheron:
It wasn't much, but you did your best. You had practically scoured the universe to find exactly what you were looking for. Your search took you to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, but eventually you found exactly what you were looking for. It was perfect, but the only opinion that mattered was hers.
From searching for the perfect gift, to now searching for Acheron herself, you were once again traveling. Acheron didn't like to be found, a trait you respected. But with the perfect present in hand, you wanted to give it to her as soon as possible. She deserved to know that there were people who were thinking about her and wanted to do nice things for her.
Eventually, you did manage to find Acheron on some hidden planet far from most inhabited systems. But that was just her way. She needed a calm, quiet place where she could just be. You didn't fault her in the slightest. It was only natural to want your space.
You found her meditating near a small pool of water, her sword laid across her lap in its plain black sheath. It was such a serene moment, almost like a painting you would find for sale on the Xianzhou Luofu. Moments like these reminded you just how beautiful Acheron is and how much you loved being near her, even if she wasn't saying anything.
"State your business."Â
You also didn't mind when her voice was sharp and authoritative like that. She wasn't even looking at you. But she was trained to pick up even the slightest sound or barest hint of movement. You're not surprised she heard you at all.
"I have something for you." Getting right down to brass tacks, you go to gather the present you've searched the entire galaxy for.
One of her eyes cracks open. "Something for me?"
A small smirk played at the corner of your mouth. You didn't think she would be interested so this is a pleasant surprise.
"Yep. It took forever for me to find it and I had to haggle the price down." You grab the large parcel, giving it a gentle squeeze before holding it out to her. "But it was all worth it. I knew it was going to be perfect for you and I couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you saw it."
Acheron's eyes are fully open now. She looks at what you're offering her first. Then, carefully, she takes the wrapped package. With steady fingers, she undoes the laces and pulls the paper away.
Inside is a brand new sheath. It's simple, but has flowers embossed on the black leather. It's perfect for her sword.
She stares at it for a long moment before looking up at you. "Is this for me?"
You nod, beaming with pride. "Yep! Do you like it?"
Acheron doesn't say anything at first. She just looks at you. But eventually, she puts the sheath to the side, along with her sword. Standing up, she does something surprising.
She hugs you.
"Thank you." She whispers in your ear.
Smiling wider, you hug her back. "You're very welcome."
Aglaea:
Aglaea can't see the future, not really. She can get a sense of what the future may hold, but not exact details. Still, it's very hard to surprise her with anything.
It wasn't due to a lack of trying. You've attempted many different tricks to try and surprise her. You've hid in some pretty creative places in an attempt to catch her off-guard. You've also gone out of your way to find the most hole-in-the-wall places to take her on dates and looked for the most niche presents to give her.
But every attempt to surprise has been fruitless. You can see it in Aglaea's eyes that she saw your attempt to surprise her fail. At least she's kind enough to let you down easily. She graciously accepts every attempt, but you know there's just no way to actually truly surprise her.
"You're sulking again." Aglaea mumbles in between her humming as she works around you.
Your head lolls to the side on your desk, a pout tugging at your lips. "Is it that obvious?"
"Painfully."
You let out a little groan. Even blind, she can still see your emotions from a mile away. You rub a hand down your face, taking in a deep breath. "Sorry. Did you need me to work on something?"
She shakes her head. "Not particularly. But if you have something on your mind, you're free to share it."
"Why don't you guess instead?" Your words come out more bitter than you mean them to. You sigh and shake your head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that."
"I know what you meant." She turns to face you even though she can't see you. "I know why you're upset."
"Yeah?"
"You're upset because I knew about the cupcake."Â
Earlier today, you tried to surprise Aglaea by making her cupcakes. You're not a baker and, more often than not, things end up burnt to a crisp when you try. But you were determined to make the best cupcake ever for her and surprise her that it was actually edible. It took countless tries and you almost burnt down your kitchen twice, but you managed to secure a singular halfway decent cupcake.
When you brought it to her, she took a big bite and told you it was perfect just like she thought it would be. You knew she was lying. Any time she tried to eat your creations, she would always take little nibbles because they weren't very good. You couldn't even surprise her with a cupcake. It was demoralizing.
"It's petty, I know." You sigh.
Aglaea hums in response. "I don't necessarily think so. You did your best and it really was a good cupcake. It was certainly better than most of your attempts."
Her little giggle makes you scowl but you can't help a genuine smile beginning to poke through.
"All I'm saying is I appreciate the effort." She explains. "That's what I love the most about you: all of the effort you put in for someone like me. You don't have to, and yet, you do. It means everything to me. So please don't pout just because you can't surprise me."
Her words hit your heart like Cupid's arrow. It makes you melt a little. She really did care that much about all the effort you put in for her, didn't she? Perhaps that was better than finally surprising her. Perhaps knowing that she saw your effort and loved you for it made it all better. With a smile, you walk over to her and give her a gentle hug.
"I love you too."
Ashveil:
"BORED!"
You can feel your eye twitch when you hear Ashveil yell from his refrigerator. He's been cooped up there since last week. Things have been slow for him and while he's enjoyed it for the most part, he's hated the fact that you're dumping paperwork on him. That was the kind of work he found boring and beneath him.
"You wouldn't be bored if you would just finish the reports like I asked you to do three days ago." You shoot back, not looking up from your computer.
The lid to the refrigerator opens and Ashveil pokes his head up to look at you. "If I finished those reports, what exactly would you be doing then, my little assistant?"
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. He's not exactly wrong. He did hire you to do all of the paperwork for him. But you're so behind after a burst of cases a month ago. You needed help to finish all of them. Besides, he knew more about some of these cases than you did.
"Fine. I'll write the reports. But could you at least take a look at what I've written to make sure everything is accurate please?" It's the least he could do, instead of hiding in his refrigerator all day.
He hesitates before letting out a dramatic sigh. "If I must, I must."
You watch Ashveil step out of his refrigerator and go over to your stack of completed files. He thumbs through them before giving you a thumbs up. "Looks great, kid! Excellent work as always!"
Your scowl deepens. "Can you please take this seriously? These reports need to get done!"
He chuckles and pokes your nose. "You need to learn to take things a little less seriously, my dear."
It was always like this with him. Every time you tried to get him to work, he would find a way to skimp and shirk. It was annoying and it grated on your nerves. But the pay was good and the cases were exciting when they came around. You couldn't give it up. So you simply scowl at his blase attitude and return to your work at hand.
Ashveil chuckles at your serious nature before returning to his refrigerator. "You'll see in time. Life is meant to be enjoyed. You don't need to work all the time. Everything is much nicer when you take life slower."
"Speak for yourself." You snap back. "Some of us need money to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. Or have you forgotten about things like that."
He shakes his head. "Not forgotten. But you still have money. When the money runs out, you go out and get more. But we're doing just fine right now."
You open your mouth to protest when the door to the office opens. Standing in the doorway looks to be a hopelessly confused young man. You straighten up, ready to greet him.
"Is this where I can find Mr Ashveil? I think I might have a case for him."
Immediately you perk up. Finally! A case.
Ashveil groans, slamming the lid down on his refrigerator. "No! Not another case!"
Jing Yuan:
General Jing Yuan. A man who is revered and highly sought after. A truly one of a kind individual. And you were one of the lucky recruits under him.Â
It was a position you held with pride. Anyone part of the Xianzhou Alliance, particularly aboard the Xianzhou Luofu, dreamed of being in his division. It took a lot of hard work and dedication to get here and you weren't going to squander your opportunity for a moment.
However, there were some disadvantages to your prestigious position. While General Jing Yuan did care about the welfare of all who resided aboard the Xianzhou Luofu, he wasn't the most hands-on of mentors. He tended to let his recruits do whatever they felt was best. While he stood up when times were tough, Jing Yuan genuinely kept things running smoothly by not doing much at all.
It wasn't easy for you to get used to. You were used to strict discipline, rules, and order. But this was the chance of a lifetime. Letting the leadership style of the great General Jing Yuan get to you was not going to happen. Not now, not ever.
You were going about your daily rounds in your section of the Xianzhou Luofu, when you noticed something out of the ordinary. You couldn't quite tell what it was. But you weren't about to let something that could be a problem slip away from you. So, with careful grace and stealth, you follow what you think you saw.
Just as you reach a small, secluded area between buildings, something hits you. Literally. You feel something tap the back of your arm. It has you grabbing your sword in a flash and whirling around to come face to face with none other than General Jing Yuan himself. He's holding his own spear, a lazy smirk on his face.
"Not bad." He replies. "But you gotta do better than that if you want to beat me."
You watch as he drops into a fighting stance and you barely have enough time to react before he's attacking. Your shock puts you on the defense at first. You have no idea why he's suddenly attacking you like this, but it doesn't take long for you to put the pieces together. He's not hitting very hard and he's being pretty clear with his moves, giving you ample time to block and defend.
Jing Yuan is sparring with you.
And you're much better at it than he thinks you are. So you let muscle memory take over. Getting into your own position, you begin to move from defense to offense. His smirk only widens when he realizes you've caught on.Â
The sound of a sword hitting a spear could be heard as the two of you battled it out. You're still not quite sure why he began this impromptu sparring session. But that isn't going to stop you from winning. You're going to give it everything you got. Maybe it's to prove that you belong here. Maybe it's to prove that you're good enough. Maybe it's just to show off. Whatever reason you have, you're fighting until it's time to call it quits.
Eventually, Jing Yuan disarms you, pinning you to the ground with his spear. You don't exactly know how it happened, but you were disappointed that it did. He chuckles before offering you a hand up.
"Nicely done, recruit. Excellent form and fantastic technique. I am impressed."
You can't help but smile at the praise. It's the most you've gotten since joining his division. "Thank you, sir. But why-"
"It's how I always conduct my mandatory one-on-one evaluations with my recruits." He explains, shooting you a wink. "I need to make sure those who are in my division can still think on their feet. And you performed quite admirably. I am very impressed."
Your cheeks begin to burn as you nod. "Thank you, sir. Truly."
Jing Yuan waves off your appreciation. "No thanks necessary. Now, how about we take a break. Maybe get something to eat?"
Your smile widens. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!"
Kafka:
Anyone who's anyone knows who the Stellaron Hunters are. The elite task force travels from system to system in an attempt to prevent the prophesized Four Apocalypses. Of course, their mission is far more sinister than that, but it's not something they advertise.
Out of all the Hunters, the one you are most acquainted with is Kafka. As someone who's charted most of the galaxy, Kafka comes to you when one of their missions requires detailed travel notes. You know better than to try and fight them. So you give the maps that you have over when they need them.Â
You never know when a Hunter is going to burst through your office door or, in Kafka's case, come in through your window. So your head is constantly on a swivel. You could be needed at a moment's notice. It was not exactly a pleasant way to live, consistently afraid that someone or something was going to come for you. But you didn't complain. You couldn't.
Currently, you're finishing up some work in your office. A scout recently returned with new information about a border system that was very interesting. You were cross-referencing the data with information you already had. You were actually enjoying learning new things late at night.
"Knock knock."
"OH MY STARS!" You practically scream when you hear a soft tapping at your window. Your hand clutches your chest as you whip around to face Kafka. "A warning next time? Maybe?"
She lets out a low chuckle as she strides into your office. "Now what fun would that be? I like this arrangement much better."
You scowl and shake your head. "If you've come for a map to the Vezalara system, you're too late. Blade picked it up last night."
"That's not why I'm here."
You can't help but flinch at her words. She's not here for a map? So then why was Kafka here? Did you do something wrong? Has she come to tie up loose ends or something?
Before you can voice your concern, she takes a step closer to you. "I am here because I wanted to see you?"
"See me? Why? Have I done something wrong?"
She shakes her head. "No. This isn't a work visit or a threatening visit. This is a surprise personal call."
You can feel your cheeks heat up at her words. "A personal call?"
Kafka nods, a smirk playing on her perfect lips. "Yes. I wanted to spend time with you. Just you, all alone."
"Oh."
You feel a little conflicted. You know better than to mess with the Stellaron Hunters. That means you shouldn't say no to her. However you can't help but feel like there's an ulterior motive here. Surely she wants something from you.
Kafka speaks before you can. Backing you up against your desk, she leans in close. "How about we open a bottle of wine and talk? Sounds good?"
You swallow before nodding. "Sure. That sounds doable."
She smiles. "Good. I'm happy to hear it, love."
Moze:
You love Moze. What's not to love? He's protective, sweet, and gentle towards you. Sure, he's a little on the quiet side and had a nasty temper when it came down to it, but he never let any of his more negative traits come out around you. He was always so kind and considerate with you.
There was just one thing you didn't love about him. He was quiet and so it was easy for him to sneak up on you. It gets you every time, making you leap into the air and scream before you curse him out while he looks at you perplexed. You really did love him, but it annoyed you how easy it was for him to surprise you like this.
Right now, you were doing the dishes. A perfect opportunity for him to come in and scare the crap out of you. So you kept your ears open and your head on a swivel. Moze would be home any minute now and you were determined to be ready for him, no matter what.
But even the best laid plans and constance supervision cannot stop even the most silent of individuals.
You had only turned your head for a second, to put a plate in the drying rack, when you heard that voice.
"Hello."
A startled scream escaped you and you jumped away from him. "Moze! For the love of, quit doing that!"
He tilted his head to the side, almost like a puppy. "Doing what?"
"Sneaking up on me! Scaring me! You're going to give me a heart attack one day!" For extra emphasis, you place a hand over your heart, where you can feel it rapidly beating.
Again, he looks confused. "I'm not trying to scare you."
A sigh escapes you. You know that. You know he doesn't mean it intentionally. It just happens so often and it's so easy for you to be startled by him. It's not his fault.Â
"You're right, you're right. You're not trying to. You're just naturally quiet. And I get easily startled. That's on me."
With a small frown, he gently takes your wrist. "It's not your fault."
You sigh and give a small nod. It's not your fault either. It's just how the two of you are. He sneaks up on you because he's naturally quiet. You startle easily when he does. No one is to blame for any of this. But that doesn't make it any easier. So you gently poke his chest.
"Still, you don't have to be so quiet all the time." You lightly tease him.
Moze cracks a tiny smile. "Perhaps you're right."
You chuckle before turning back to do the dishes. "Since you're here, you can help me. I need someone to dry these dishes."
"I think you have it covered just fine."
"Don't go sneaking away, mister! You're going to help me!"
Serval:
Perhaps you're just not as observant as you thought you were. Perhaps you were completely blindsided because you were so busy with your other work. Perhaps there was something blocking you from seeing what everyone else saw.
Either way, you were totally caught off-guard when Gepard told you of his plans tonight.
"You're⊠what?"
He frowns. "Going to Serval's concert tonight. Didn't you know?"
Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as you slowly shake your head. You feel like a bad significant other for not knowing she was having a concert tonight. How had you missed it? Serval was great at promoting her work. How could you not have seen it?
Gepard chuckles before patting your shoulder. "Well, there's still time. You can easily get in to see her. Everyone knows you should be there anyways."
You give him a half-hearted smile. "Thanks for telling me about tonight. I appreciate it."
It didn't take you long to prepare for the concert. It's not like Serval cared about how you looked, but you enjoyed putting together a fitting ensemble for her shows. Nothing too flashy but something fun. When you were ready, you made your way to the venue during set-up and scoured through the halls.
You find the green room in record time and knock on the door. It opens to reveal Serval already prepared for the concert, her hair done and her makeup making her look absolutely perfect. She smiles when she sees you and pulls you into a big hug.
"You're here! I didn't think you would come!" She gushes.
A disappointed sigh escapes you. "If I had known, I would have been here sooner." Holding her face in your hands, you give her an earnest look. "I'm sorry, I really am. I should have known about this concert and should have been here for you. I'm sorry I didn't notice. I don't know what I was thinking."
She shakes her head and pecks your nose. "Don't even start apologizing to me. You were busy! You've been so focused helping Bronya and Seele integrate both the Overworld and Underworld people of Jarilo-VI. It's okay that something like this fell by the way side. I don't mind at all that it slipped your mind."
You shake your head. "But it's not fair to you! You're my girlfriend! I am supposed to be there for you and support you! I can't believe I missed something like this!"
"Stop." She gently says, holding you close. "I know you support me and I know how much you love me. Besides, you're here now and that's all that matters. You haven't missed a single thing. So quit beating yourself up and enjoy the music tonight, okay?"
With a soft sigh, you nod. "Okay. Yes. That I can do."
Serval giggles before kissing your lips. "Good. Although, I am surprised you missed that I was having a concert tonight. I mean, there were fliers plastered literally everywhere across Belobog."
You groan as you press your forehead to hers. "I thought you were trying to make me feel better?"
"I also have to humble you a little. It's all because I love you."
don't test milf!acherons poor old heart by running and jumping at her because she WILL catch you bro. she WILL drop and break everything she was just holding for you. she WILL be too weak to scold you cuz of how sweet you look in her arms đ„č
Yasss~ We need Ex-girlfriend Acheron who we've been broken up with fir a couple of months with at this point but we occasionally think about. And we're currently sad and a little depressed which lead us to try to get drunk and who dud we drunk text, Acheron~ it's mostly just drunken babble but one text stands out from the rest, "Please come back"
the way she replies 'lmao' like a dickhead but she's literally at your door the next day ready to take you out for brunch
Seeing how obsessed Acheron is, she definitely has a collection of our clothes that smell like us. We just don't notice because she's super stealthy and sneaky about replacing what she took with an exact copy that she can free exchange.
This stash is a life saver for when she's on an adventure or gets lost for a few days
yeahhh im gonna go ahead and steal this because you've sparked my pervert!acheron thoughts that i tend to keep stashed away for personal use
mdni
Pervert!Acheron who you never suspect to be so gross because she's so upstanding and moral, always knowing the right to say and sticking by your side like a loyal knight.
Pervert!Acheron who seems like a good listener, but is really busy quietly imagining all the ways she could have you spread open for her, no matter how serious the situation may currently be.
Pervert!Acheron who has a habit of keeping her eyes glued to your mouth. Again, with her never making any obvious moves on you, you swear its just because she's an attentive listener... not because shes imagining stuffing your face between her thighs until she's all you can breathe.
Pervert!Acheron who you never grow suspicious of whenever she innocuously brushes up against any of your intimate areas. It happens surprisingly often, but she plays it off so well that you genuinely believe she's just a little clumsy when it comes to you. You swear she doesn't even notice herself doing this, but in reality, it's all purposeful.
Pervert!Acheron who takes any and every opportunity to hold you much closer to her than necessary. Hiding from an enemy? She's gripping onto you, rounding a corner into a tight spot, and practically gluing your bodies together. You think she's panting heavily from the adrenaline, but you couldn't be further from the truth.
Pervert!Acheron who offers to try whatever drink you buy yourself even though she cant taste it at all. Really, she simply enjoys the fact that she's drinking from the same straw as you, and you don't notice the way her thighs press against each other beneath the table. She might even backwash a little just to watch you continue drinking obliviously. Once she's alone, she rubs herself raw that very night.
Pervert!Acheron who does in fact go as far as to steal some of your clothes when her neediness supersedes the ability of her pictures of you (saved in a massive private folder on her phone) to get her off. She'll press her nose into the soft material and huff it like a drug until she reaches her release, barely muffling her quiet grunts into the fabric. Don't let her find a pair of your underwear. They'll be missing for a while until you randomly find them washed clean soon after. She definitely didn't make a mess of them herself... definitely.
i think ur blog is slowly turning me into acheron obsession... i cannot stop thinking about oni!acheron's big hands wrapping around ur tummy likeee... the kind of hands that engulf ur stomach and easily lift/move ur hips. doesn't even have to be in a sexual mood she just does that because she wants to feel ur softness around her fingers and how u're warming her cold hands...
everything about her is sooo bigg she should make me feel scared but nawt- i'm just hornknee đ
bru i came after reading this ask icl
oni!acheron who just manhandles you casually. sometimes, she needs you to be somewhere and you're just... not there. of course, she dgaf and she can arrange your presence by lifting you up and putting you down right where she needs you. this might be so random but she's the type to sit down on a dirty surface, and instead of laying out a handkerchief or cleaning up the surface for you to sit down on (like our polite knight!acheron would), she'd just pull you down into her lap without a care in the world. you've been there many times before doing less than decent things, so she sees no trouble in doing that even when there's people around </3 so don't even bother getting flustered, because it's just so natural for her. onicheron is always pulling you close by your waist or your hips, whatever is closest works :p and her grip is lowkey a little firm because, like i always love to mention, onicheron SUCKS at being gentle. lowkey, when she's actually getting intimate with you, you can see a couple prints from her fingers. she actually does feel bad about that because she genuinely cannot help herself to you. be careful telling her that you actually kinda like it because you might lose your ability to walk for a few days
all this to say that it just makes her strength over you sooo evident that yes its kinda scary but its kinda... well its not kinda its actually smoking hot. she lifts you with ease and she doesn't even break any sort of sweat. when she says you're light as a feather, she means it. she can toss you around like a pizza lmaoaoaoaooa
but dont get her started on your tummy omgggg genuinely her favourite thing in the world. she loves to stuff her face into your neck while grabbing your belly from behind. otherwise, if you're laying down on your back, she'll lay next to you and slide her big ass hands under your shirt. its pretty jarring to see it that way because theyre.... huge. they span so easily across your shit its surprises you every time
speaking of surprising, after shocking you much too often with her cold ass hands, you can now predict whenever shes gonna grab and give it a feel-up. just keep an ear out for the sound of her hands rubbing together like she's a damn fly, using the friction to heat them up beforehand dffsjkfhdsk dont laugh this is onicheron being thoughtful even if they are barely even a bit warmer. she does this with your thighs too but she never heats her hands up for that because its supposed to be "less sensitive"... like who are you to decide that, acheron?
regardless, she likes hearing you whine and complain while she squeezes your thighs so she'll never be as considerate as she is with them as she is with ur belly.
Women with muscular backs đ„Ž Imagine waking up in the morning and seeing them with their bare backs turned towards you and you clearly seeing the scratches you made the night before. I imagined this with Feixiao and Acheron in mind because in my opinion they would have the most muscular backs among HSR women and wouldn't mind their girlfriend/wife scratching them.
I love women with muscular backs (and bodies).
CW: Mentioned and implied sex, marking
Feixiao in particular would wear something revealing that day. When she knows you marked her up from how good she made you feel last night, the egotistical part of her wants to wear low cut tank tops that show the scratches she acquired. Feixiao feels prideful showing off those marks, itâs a symbol to her that reminds herself to keep up the good work, snd also a symbol to show that sheâs a God at sex. Clearly what she did last night was great, so expect to see her proudly flexing the scratches in the mirror like a battle scar đ
Acheron isnât as boastful as Feixiao, obviously. She doesnât mind the scratches, but she doesnât show them off intentionally either. To her, they are just a product of you clinging onto her for comfort. She knows she can be a bit too much during sex, so she understands that you need an outlet to vent out your feelings (which comes in the form of back scratches)
I will say though, Acheron might unintentionally wear something revealing out in public (like a tank top in Feixiaoâs case), and when someone asks about what happened to her back, she shrugs and goesâ
âOh, donât worry. Those are just from my wife.â
Ignoring the shocked look from the bystanderâs face, she walks off because she didnât think she said anything wrong. She said the truth! I fear Acheron has no social awareness about what she said and now every time someone asks about her âinjuryâ she nonchalantly says itâs from you.
Now a ton of people in Penacony (and other parts of the universe) know how hard Acheron goes on you.
featuring ;; acheron x afab!reader
content ;; yearning, in-universe acheron, with my own additions because it's my story, reader has survived the shadow of ix, but is not at all an emanator, acheron forgets a lot, reader is a likkle sad about it, hurt & comfort, but it doesn't hurt that bad really because i suck at angst, eventual smut, so look forward to it, reader is afab but isn't otherwise referred to with gender specific terms
note ;; my first multi part fic... gulp i braved this plot i randomly came up with in class over the past month (slowest writer ever) so i hope you enjoy and that acheron isn't horribly ooc
wc ;; 7.5k
requests + asks ;; open! (im just so slow)
You had come to terms with your planetâs death in the past months youâd been left there to wither away. You swallowed it all down with the last of your tears, shoving at anything you could grasp to keep your head from sinking beneath the face of it all.
But coming to terms with your situation did not mean you breathed a little clearer or that you walked with your shoulders pulled back, chin up to the world to brave it with strength. It carved you hollow as your reality stared you directly in the eye, driving you mad as it poured in and washed you clean of all remaining hope left within you.
Your planet was dead, engulfed by the Nihilityâs relentless shadow, and you alone remained, stalking through the planet, alive and persistent like a cockroach even an Aeon could not kill. A sole survivor among the corpses of your friends, your family, and the strangers too along with them.
When you gave the bodies a good look, desperately searching for a rise and fall of someoneâs chest or a minute twitch of a finger, they blurred into each other, becoming a nauseatingly indiscernible smudge of blackness.
You frowned at the sight, looking away before bile could crawl up to your throat and meet the cracked ground beneath your feet.
The IX rendered everyone into obsolete pieces of flesh that you could barely comprehend. But you could feel it. The devastating screech of your instincts telling you that the foggy silhouettes before you were corpses.
The buzz of flies fluttering about certainly helped bring the notion to life. Or lack thereof.
Grief was relentless. An inescapable feeling that sickened you right down to your stomach before manifesting into something you could feel. Aging you past what your lifespan would allow, yet whenever you caught your reflection in the mirror, you looked all the same, albeit dirty.
Most times, though, you heard it.
On the lonely nights where you had no choice but to thrust yourself into the embrace of sleep that never welcomed you easily, emptiness rang through the air until you could no longer hold onto consciousness.
When you were not trying to get some shuteye, it pounded in your ears, determined to drive you further into madness as you tarried on through the debris. Searching for someone, anyone. Or, at least, something to each.
Everything was rotten.
The day of the disaster, about four hundred and twenty-eight days back, if you had counted correctly, youâd watched the lavender that sat preciously at your windowsill wilt before your eyes as the sun was swallowed by Nihility.
Everything about that day felt fresh, as if it were only yesterday that it had happened. But it wasnât, and memories, whether before or during the disaster, were of no aid in unwinding the tightness of your shoulders.
There was only the present. And currently? You were hungry.
Just like the lavender, most of everything was decomposed down to inedible scraps that, at this point, you considered yourself lucky to scavenge.
Leaves were your only friend, you thought as you crouched before the fallen, dry little things. You ignored the way your knees creaked and groaned in protest at the movement, even if they sounded louder than anything else around you.
Picturing a sweet confection instead of the browned leaf, you pressed it past your lips, dry and cracked as they met your dirt-covered fingers. In addition to your weary skeleton, you paid no mind to the crunch of the leaves between your teeth.
Long before your now steely digestion, it took a month of your stomach turning over and rejecting what you could manage to scrounge up. Now, the âfoodâ you forced down settled hesitantly, like it was waiting for the other shoe to drop. What followed instead was a dirty swish of water that felt worse than anything else as it coated your throat with a permanent grime.
It barely helped, but it was something.
A breeze moved your attention to the decayed orchard around you.
Youâd eaten all the rotted apples, figuring youâd die of sickness eventually. But you never did. Not one cough after spending over a year scarfing down whatever hadnât decomposed into dry soil. Not even a single morning of illness after. You woke up only to excruciating hunger.
The bark of the tree scratched through your clothes as you leaned against the trunk. You didnât mind it. Secretly, you hoped it infected you with something fatal.
All you wanted now was to die.
Youâd placed your bets on starvation a few months back, ignoring every drop of dirty water and mouldy 'greens,' and allowed your stomach to constrict itself permanently. But you never died. You barely even got weaker, but you could feel it all, the hunger, the thirst, the longing.
Was this immortality, you wondered? Immortality without godhood, a curse in itself that every myth of hubris had warned of. You wished youâd faded with the rest of your people.
Shutting your eyes as the wind picked up again, you breathed in deep, hoping to catch a scent of something carried by the wind. Even if it was a figment of your mindâs imagination. Having a goal of search gave you something to work for. Without it, youâd only dig a deeper hole of insanity for yourself.
This one time, youâd actually caught something. Actually.
Ozone first, and then a faint bit of lotus that bloomed so freshly through your senses that it was unlike anything youâd smelled in the past year.
A voice followed.
âAre you alright down there?â
It rang so richly, you could swear it was a figment of your imagination. The sound licked up through you, leaving you in pieces on the ground you sat on before being followed by the crunch of a footstep.
With a snap, your eyes flew open, head swivelling without caution to the source of the voice.
There, you met the sight of two strong legs, scratched and marred from battle and thick with muscle. Your eyes didnât hesitate to climb up the two masses of strength, even if your soul was struck still at the true sight of a person.
A woman stood before you, and she was beautiful.
Violet hair ribboned over her shoulders, rustled gently by the soft winds breathing over the barren lands of your planet. Her figure imposed effortlessly, looming a height you imagined you wouldnât reach even if you were to press up on the tips of your toes, and her arms were wrung with muscle, the same as her lower half.
One eye of hers hid behind the swept-over curtain of her bangs, but the rest of her face was laid bare for you to carve into your mind so deep that if you had lost your ability to see, you could still pass your fingers over the indentation of the memory and clutch it to your heart.
Her appearance renovated you a warmth without a single touch, and she only stared back with a calm that you couldnât fathom in the slightest.
Four hundred and twenty-eight gruelling days since the presence of another, and you were given this picture of a person. Your brain lagged behind your thundering heart, just barely able to keep to its pace.
âYouâre not real,â you breathed, air stolen from your lungs. Its escape compelled you to lean closer, shifting to your knees before the violet woman as if she were a deity herself.
âI could almost say the same,â she murmured in response. The sound, albeit quiet, cut through the air between you, sizzling thereafter in a current of her electric presence.
You kept silent after that, swallowing through the dryness of your throat as her stare bored into you.
Her eye, purple and bracketed in rouge, narrowed just the slightest and pinned you still. You would have missed it had you not stared back at her so intensely, clinging on to any emotion that wasnât your own after years of isolation.
In the inky void of her pupil, you caught your reflection: awed, intrigued, frightened, and daring to hope for something out of her that was nominally better than your current situation. Yet, in that same survey of your mirrored image, somehow, you appeared as a mystery to this woman, framed in the twilight of her iris.
So, you sat there with bated breath, skin tingling at the exhilarating notion of being discovered and regarded with curiosity for the first time in ages.
âYou live through the shadow of Nihility?â She questioned lowly and carefully, just as quiet as before.
The soft breath that escaped her nose after was that of a quiet scoff, wisps of disbelief leaking from her and taking physical form.
Considering it yourself, you felt the same seeing an actual living, breathing person. Even if, likely, in her perspective, you were just barely that, falling more accurately under the category of surviving.
The skin of her knee was soft under the hand you extended out to her.
Warmth, real warmth, seeped through your fingertips and ebbed through every nerve in your body. Your breath steepened, and you held on tight, missing the softening of her expression as she bent and crouched before you.
Like this, you could smell her even clearer than before.
âYouâve survived, yet youâre⊠different to me.â Her hand reached out and her fingers wrapped tight around your bare wrist. âExcuse me.â
She could do anything, and youâd excuse it, you thought.
With her wrapped like a bracelet around your forearm, you were hit with the brief, dissipating nostalgia of community.
You remembered your friends dragging you out of your bedroom, eyes blindfolded with your free hand before it was yanked off as a larger group of your friends shrieked, "Surprise!" You remembered the cake you ate that day, and through that, you remembered all the cakes and desserts youâd ever enjoyed, all the meals you shared with your family, and all the nights you had snuck into your parents' bed as a child.
It reminded you what it meant to be alive, if only for a moment, before you returned to the present, eyes already fixed on the point of contact when something pulsed through where your skin met.
The closest word your mind could catalogue it to was power in its purest form, vibrating through your veins and reaching through your body like fingers carding through your nerves themselves.
You blinked at the unfamiliar sensation. It wasnât uncomfortable, but it wasnât comfortable either. It was just⊠there. Sitting close enough to consider adjacent to your soul. You shuddered at the feeling before it flickered away.
âWhat was thatâŠ?â You questioned, voice dipping into something timorous as you glanced back up at her face, chin tilted downwards just a bit. The woman bore a certain expression, as if she had performed the necessary preliminary of deciding just how sheâd interact with you further.
She remained staring at where you were joined.
âThe IX has left you with a powerful gift." She paused, pending until she had something finished and ready to say once more. âWhether you consider it to be one remains to be decided.â
She spoke again when you remained quiet.
âPlainly, youâve been made resistant.â
This time, her words pulled your lips to a frown. Your mind was made to claw your hand from hers, but your heart kept you motionless, beating alone for the touch of another.
Still, your words came out in a scorned hiss.
âI decided long ago that this,â your free hand gestured carelessly to yourself. âIs nothing more than a curse.â
The woman only raised her brow, head tilting to the side as if to adjust her understanding to your own. The fire, briefly ignited within you, died to a simmer.
âThen it is as youâve determined.â
The woman settled the fact easily, your words falling right as rain without further question, and you softened entirely.
She watched the fall of your shoulders before turning to look off in the distance. Her eyes flitted back and forth so minutely and particularly that you wondered if she was seeing everything regardless of if it were miles away.
âIt is only you who survives?â She questioned, still looking far off. You figured that she could indeed see that far a distance.
ââŠYes.â
She hummed gravely, and her hand slid up to grip your forearm in a grip that was both firm and gentle, just beneath your elbow. You shifted in place a moment at the touch, only feeling more present when her eyes shifted back to yours. Your breath hitched at the violet.
âI too have lost my planet and people,â she sighed, hand tightening in the slightest over your arm. Once again, she looked down at where her hand was around you, staring down pensively at the feeling before continuing. âFirst to war, then the IX.â
You didnât say anything for a moment after, instead finding yourself looking into a mirrorâalbeit one shifted a bit to its side. You knew at least half of her troubles well enough, war being one you couldnât imagine for the life of you.
âThen,â you started, perplexing yourself for something to say in response to her revelation. âAre you like me? Resistant and such.â
âNo.â The womanâs lips pursed, shaking her head as she let go of your arm. Her touch remained a ghost against your skin. âVery different, I think.â
She responded like it was something fuzzy to conceptualize but a heavy burden to bear regardless. You only held further distaste for IX for being an additional stressor to your perceived saviourâand all she did was being there. With you. It was all you needed.
Blubbering, you attempted to ease whatever unintended emotion you may have strung up within her before it tightened into a knot impossible to release.
âThatâs okay...!â Your hands waved in front of you in a quick motion.
The words tumbled through your lips and scattered within the space between you awkwardly. You hadnât a clue as to why you had said them or what exactly was âokay,â but it brought a small smile to her face regardless, easily placated.
Her head tilted again.
âIn a way itâs okay, I suppose,â she hummed, calm as the breeze between you. âYours.â
Another quietness settled between you, pregnant with something unidentifiable. Whatever it was, you werenât eager to press in and unearth its meaning. Silence had plagued you like a terrible sickness these past years, and there was no way you were going to let your first opportunity to fill it slip through your fingers.
So, you introduced yourself, the only thing you could give in return to her presence.
âYouâre on the planet Inendi,â you told her. âOr what it once was, at least.â
You shifted in position, sitting cross-legged before the crouched purple woman.
She stared at you carefully as you moved, eyes roving over your face as if cataloguing its curve along with the sonic ring of your name deep into her mind. It seemed almost meticulous, in a sense, and the internal question of why she would put in such an amount of care to remember it came and went before she carried her attention over to the rest of Inendi.
âI am called Acheron,â she supplied.
She left out the name of her planet in favour of sighing something wistful. You didnât push, though you wanted to.
âI travel the galaxies in search of planets like this here Inendi of yours. I hunt any existing harbinger of IX.â
You supposed it made for an explanation to the sinew that emanated from the entirety of her existence. Even by way of her shoulders moving as she breathed, you could decipher from Acheronâs posture alone that she was some sort of warrior. Now, you understood she was indeed a warriorâone against Nihility.
Her words settled like dust before being shaken off as you pressed forward, looking at Acheron with rounded eyes coloured with panicked dismay.
âWill you be leaving then?â You questioned with barely concealed fragility. It didnât miss her as her gaze returned quickly to yours.
âYesâŠâ She began, her hand reaching out to brush her fingertips along the space just above your knee. It flattened there, fingers splaying, and tingles blossomed beneath her palm. âBut I will not leave you alone here, friend.â
Friend.
She pulled her touch back into herself, and you nearly moved along with the motion.
âIf you wish, I imagine joining me would serve better than continuing here. Of course, the decision is entirely yoursââ
âIâll come,â you cut Acheron off with a quickness that had her lips sealing shut and a perplexed flutter of her eyes.
You repeated your words again after a moment, calmer on your second go-around. You were gifted another one of Acheron's softened smiles.
She shifted and stood, holding a hand out toward you, and you wrapped your own around hers easily. In that brief moment of your hands pressing against one another, you wished you could never let go before being hauled up in an accidental display of power so natural to Acheron that you tumbled right against her form.
She didnât so much as stumble, only pausing to register the amount of strength sheâd next have to reserve when handling you.
âThen come,â she nodded. You followed right on after her.
â
You were certain that joining Acheron in her exploits was to be a brief blip in your post-Inendi existence: a journey that ended with a teary-eyed goodbye after which youâd settle in some planet that suited you just second to which your original home did.
But that was planets agoâtens of planets agoâand there you were with that violet woman. Where there was no home any longer, Acheron became familiar.
Now, sleep collected you with little objection into its cold embrace.
You wondered on those dreamless nights if she was your new home. If Inendi had fractured off a branch of herself and planted a seed within Acheron. One that you could not bear to abandon for a single planet across the galaxies, no matter the enemy youâd face or the danger youâd brave travelling as her sole companion.
Then, youâd wake up from your empty slumber with the question still ringing in your mind, just as she was ready to go. She who never slept but waited only for you.
Whatever it was that kept you with her, it did not matter enough for you to bring into question, as Acheron seemed entirely unburdened in permitting you to keep at her side.
So, in your time with Acheron, you learned the woman.
You watched her as she spoke, as she marched, even when she did nothing at all. Every minor shift in her countenance or posture was catalogued within until your brain was a dictionary of all that was her.
Your untiring pursuit of understanding her was rewarding in ways that nothing else could match since your leaving of Inendi. It lit you up like fireworks bursting within before simmering on the face of your skin, pulling your cheeks up into a personal smile that she would notice but never comment on.
Your most significant finding was in her speech: Acheron never wasted her breath on superfluous chatter. Every word that slipped through her lips was important, relevant, and never to be missed.
This fact trained you, in a way, to forever catch her voice over the babble of others, no matter how quietly she may have uttered a comment. And as the sound of her timbre would worm its way into your ears, youâd find yourself hanging onto her words, deciphering every possible meaning until the grip of your mind couldnât hold any longer and youâd fall into what you imagined to be the felicitous abyss that was truly understanding Acheron.
You wouldnât mind falling into her so entirely, you thought. You imagined sheâd catch you the same way she would whenever youâd leap from a ledge into her arms or when sheâd pull you up another, right into her hold to steady your jostled form to balance.
As most things belonging to you were, the pane of this notion was shattered to pieces by the Memokeeper youâd met on your arrival to Penacony, the so-called âPlanet of Festivities.â
Youâd most shamefully felt green at her revelation of really peering into Acheronâs mind, despite how she shivered in sharing its harrowing description. It forced you to consider whether you knew her at all.
Still, Acheronâs silence regarding your continued presence left you with two conjectures that you endlessly poured yourself into. Was your leaving an insignificant affair to Acheron or one that was out of the question?
Shaking your head free of the matter that was of no place to currently be pending, you turned your head to peruse Acheronâs profile, who stood to your left, facing ahead as her hair whipped in the wind behind her.
This was your spot: to her right, where her blade did not rest. And, sometimes, you selfishly fancied yourself with the idea of her placing her hand over your shoulder the same way she rested her left over the hilt of her katana.
It was on rare occasion when you received this touch.
Acheronâs thumb would press against your collarbone as the rest of her fingers lay over your shoulder.
It was a firm grip, reassuring and strong, that swirled your stomach into a dizzying mix of its contents. It raised goosebumps to your skin in an equal amount of excitement as it did trepidation.
Anyone else would call it superstition, but as you had determined through your travels with Acheron, her hand against your shoulder forebode another go-around of a true battle between her and an enemy.
Yet, greedily, and most wrongly, you still craved the feeling of her hand against you, one way or another.
Her touch was cool as it was warm, and it drew you closer to her than you often were for a momentâs breath before sheâd unsheathe her blade and deliver death to whatever stood before her.
After which, sheâd forget. A cycle that left both you and Acheron entirely lost for purpose as she wandered continuously through the galaxies, just barely grasping hold of her memories before her hand met your shoulder once more.
It hollowed you just as IX did your planet whenever this came to pass, as selfish as it felt to claim such a thing. But how could you not feel such a way when, after battle, your closest companion stared at you as if you were merely a stranger?
She was no less accepting of you, at least. That, sometimes, hurt the most.
Eventually, though, as you did with all cycles, you grew used to it. It was as inevitable as the sunrise and sunset, and you could only stomach it and push through for Acheronâs sake.
The first time, however, was the worst.
You remembered it just as vividly as the Dreamscapeâs sky expanded into a brilliant golden shine, giant stacks of poker chips sinking through its gloss, capable of crushing any unfortunate soul who found themselves beneath them.
You remembered it just as grimly as Acheronâs hand did, in fact, meet your shoulder, maneuvering you close to her form before stepping ahead of you and the rest of the Astral Expressâ crew.
The memory of her hand on your shoulder would likely last longer than her memory of this moment as she reached for her blade.
Then, all of her, and the surrounding area, faded into the same black, white, and red that had swallowed Inendi and Acheronâs planet all those years ago.
And again, you saw the first planet you visited: Harirau.
â
If Acheron had arrived to Inendi on a ship, you would have heard it.
The planetâs silence was so thick that, from it, you could pick out the scrape of dead branches scratching against each other regardless of their distance. Even the empty rustle of dead leaves further than your eyes could reach could capture your attention, fooling you into another trek in search of life on your desolate planet.
Missing a spacecraft was an impossibility, but somehow, you had missed Acheronâs.
You were occupied by this understanding as you joined hands with the woman the first time, up on your feet with a renewed hope that shone ironically through your gaunt form.
She mustâve landed far, but in knowing youâd be off this planet soon enough, it was a marathon you were willing to brave by her side.
Looking over her shoulder, your mouth pressed to its side in question.
âHow far is your ship?â
When you glanced back to her expression, you were met with her looking down at you far too softly for someone she had only just met. Her stare was understandably pitiful in nature, but it pierced through you with a desperation of companionship that matched your own.
The weight of her attention filled you to the brim with a satisfaction only available to the loneliest of individuals. So, you peered back at her, hoping to return even a sliver of the feeling she elicited in you.
Her expression didnât budge.
âWhat is it?â You questioned again, cautiously, this time.
Acheron kept silent before her face turned pensive, her curved eyebrow barely furrowing before she stepped entirely into your space.
Her warmth bled through your ratty clothing as her arm took its liberty of slipping around your waist, hand splayed flat to the small of your back. You straightened to attention at the touch, glancing away briefly if only to reassure yourself that this was real once again.
This type of proximity was foreign. It died along with your planet, and its absence was illustrated in the taut, upright pull of your shoulders. It took a long breath and a half before you could settle in her hold. Acheron waited patiently for just that.
âI tend to travel more⊠unconventionally,â Acheron explained slowly, letting her words hang in the little bit of space between you before she continued. You could feel the slow rise and fall of her chest against yours.
âMoving through space will require power the same as THEIRS. As such, you will feel its similarity.â Her lips pursed. âStay close; it wonât take long.â
Her explanationâif it could be deemed as suchâwas frustratingly vague, and you were just about done with all the uncertainty these past years had shoved all the way down your throat. Uncertainty of survival, uncertainty of a meal, uncertainty of whether youâd wake up the next day. It frustrated you to your core, and with a soft huff through your nose, you instead took to examining Acheron for anything else youâd be lucky enough to pick up on.
All she seemed to offer was hesitance with a promise of brevity in amends for her incautious closeness to you, as if that were a problem at all. What you needed was clarity, and the lack of it tugged your lips into a downward curve.
Acheron, for all her bravery to visit a planet as dead as Inendi, almost pulled back at your seeming displeasure.
Your hands stopped her before she could.
She took pause as they snaked up to hold onto her arms, bracing themselves on the firmness of her biceps. The action did well in reassuring herâyou felt as much in the tightening of her hold around your waist.
âAcheron,â you began. âI donât understand what you mean. Do you have to call your shipâ?â
You were cut off by reality tearing itself in two, bending around you with a force of power that was so mighty and distinct that it could only be recognized as THEIRS. Its familiarity brought about a dread that curdled and crushed whatever spirit remained within.
All in one moment, as you were being shot through space, you were under the cast of IXâs shadow once again.
To keep your soul from exiting your body, your arms automatically wound themselves around Acheronâs neck, clinging to her broad form as you hooked your chin over her shoulder.
You couldnât tell if you were screaming; you could barely register anything at all. Your skin pulled so far with the force of movement, you wondered if it mightâve torn right off, leaving you a mass of muscle before youâd even reached your destination.
Your stomach flipped so violently that you pursed your lips to keep from vomiting.
In the brief moments you were able to hold your eyes open, no colour safe for red made its appearance in your travels, painting the inky abyss around you until you could no longer bear its vibrance.
You screwed your eyes shut instead and held on tighter to Acheron, who remained your only semblance of an anchor as you jetted through more galaxies than you could count.
Then, there was sand.
It nestled and poked between your toes as your weight sunk into it. You wouldâve fallen into it entirely if not for Acheron bracing you upright against her. Your legs were jelly, knees just short of buckling, and you could vaguely hear your companion questioning your welfare over the shrill screeches of birdsâsongs tropical in nature.
A gasp tore through your throat so violently that you winced at its sharpness, eyes flying open as your hands found Acheronâs chest only to shove yourself away from it.
She let go without argument, holding them out in a still-open invitation that you did not accept. Instead, you stumbled off into a thicket of palm trees, and Acheron followed close behind as you emptied what little content your stomach held at oneâs base.
Acheron ducked into a crouch behind you, hand finding your back as you retched. It sank heavy and warm against your shirt. You could only focus on it for a minute before another wave of nausea hit, and you gave to the sand what acids remained within you.
âItâs difficult. I know,â she reassured, hand moving to smooth circles against you. âAre you alright?â
She called your name once as your chest heaved with effort, but you didnât respondâcouldnât. Your mind wrangled with itself, rearranging its position within your skull after being brought to an entirely new planet in just seconds.
Wherever you were, it was hot and humid. The sun burned in a relentless disk that you narrowly avoided in the shade, the climate seemingly disposed to hasten your sickness. Fortunately for you, there was nothing left to give other than an empty gag and a copious amount of saliva.
You held your tongue until your breath evened out into something respectable enough to award Acheron a response. Then, you turned to face her, swiping the back of your hand across your wet mouth.
âYeah,â you panted, blinking harshly as your vision settled back, by slow degrees, from three into one.
When Acheron returned clearly into picture, it took only a moment to realize that she was faring just the same as youâsafe for the vomit. She stared blankly before her chin dipped in a slow nod that looked anything but certain. It was a peculiar sight to be met with when just moments ago she seemed unshakeable.
Her eyes were foggy as she herself grappled with the shift in environment. Goosebumps erupted up your spine as her hand dragged up to your nape, catching her own balance with it as she rested her touch there.
Even if you could not afford the luxury of the emotion, the sight had you cast a worried glance over her as you reached your hand back to hook onto her arm. You were certain your breath reeked of sick as your lips cracked open to question if she was faring any better than you were, but you didnât get so much as a word out before your mind seared white-hot with pain.
Choking out a groan, your hand squeezed with all its might into Acheron. The muscle beneath your fingers didnât give a millimetre as you leaned into her. She didnât so much as wince, only leaning close to catch you in case you collapsed entirely.
âFuck! Fuckâmy head,â you gritted, keeling over yet again as tears slipped freely from your eyes right into the sandy mess of your vomit.
âYouâre not okay,â Acheron said decidedly and reached to grab hold of both of your shoulders in what was an unhelpful attempt at grounding you through the pain.
When you looked into her eyes, vision bleary with tears, you could only imagine how pathetic you looked in that moment, hair strewn about with dried spit coating the outside of your lips. You acquainted your attention with the ground instead, bottom lip quivering at the thought.
âHold on,â Acheron muttered, hands finding your armpits before pulling you up to your feet with her. Her arms hooked beneath your knees, picking you up into an effortless carry as she ducked her head, urging you to wrap your arms around her neck the same way you had earlier.
âIâm finding us some food,â she explained shortly, moving along to where you assumed she saw a village. You looked in the same direction but could only see so far ahead before tears blurred your vision once more. You couldâve sworn you heard a low coo.
âAnd a place to stay as well. You need rest.â
In Acheronâs mission of finding a place to settle, the people ofâas you learned this planet was calledâHarirau lent you a small, woven hut. It was strung along the mighty frames that crawled over the beach and hung huts of varying sizes. Each of them connected to one another through similarly woven bridges adjacent to the shores on which the Harirauns boasted their excellent fishing.
You learned, among the concerned flock of inhabitants that trailed behind Acheron and you, the name of an elderly woman: Arihia. She guided and moved nimbly for her age, which you attributed to the ardent swimming culture this village bore, and commanded a respect that easily waved off the curious crowd of other villagers surrounding you.
In the hut, she had familiarized either of you with the hammocks and mats for sleeping, recommending the latter for your brittle form. You heeded her advice with little argument, and she unravelled a mat for Acheron to set you down upon.
Arihiaâs gaze washed over you in a warm, homey concern that only someone of old age could provide. It stirred in you an urge to curl up into her attentionâs embrace, but it shone too similarly to your own motherâs care. You settled instead on the mat with a solemn frown that you hid deftly, turning your head to look out of the nearest partition in the hut.
You people-watched and drew an easy conclusion about the planet in your hiding. The Harirauns were a people of benevolent spirit: generous and welcoming. With the beautiful nature that surrounded them, you wondered if their irreproachable demeanours were a byproduct of their tropical environment.
The sky was free of grey, as blue as the clear waters below, and there was a permanent taste of salt in the air.
Curiously, you threw your gaze along the pathways that hung further past the shores and watched the people swim, unable to tear your attention from the graceful arch of their dives into the warm waters below.
Both the children and adults seemed proficient in this ability, and they swam just as mobile as they walked on land. Their hair, either curly or braided, was typically long in nature, and it fascinated you as it followed them like capes underwater.
Returning your attention to the confines of your temporary alcove, you basked in the comfortable coolness the shade and nearby water afforded you, letting relaxation take you for the first time in years.
The mat was more comfortable than it seemed, and, over the gentle crash of waves and the squawk of seagull-equivalent Hariraun birds, you learned from Arihia that the hut you occupied was often granted to passing travelers free of charge, along with the mealtimes that were held with the larger community.
She bid the two of you goodbye soon after, parting with a light wave of her wrinkled fingers and a swish of her skirt, feet bare and padding away.
Promptly, Acheron turned to set up a hammock of her own. It drew between two posts that filled you with a minor sense of envy in its position, which revealed the open scenery of the planetâs waters, which were bigger than what your opening afforded you.
When she finished, she crouched to your side like a careful attendant.
âIâm going to collect some food for us,â she said, her voice just as lulling as the oceanâs sighs.
When her hand had suddenly found your arm, you realized that your eyes had been shut for too long to be a blink.
âArihia offered us an early portion. For the time being, try to stay awake. Iâll return quickly.â
Acheron waited patiently for a nod or a hum of agreement, unmoving until youâd confirmed. Instead, you held her attention a moment longer, glancing back outside to catch a man casting a wide net over the water.
When you opened your mouth, Acheron leaned just the slightest bit closer.
âWhatâll it be?â You questioned. âFish?â
You turned your gaze back to Acheron, whose lips ghosted into a smirk at your dry comment.
âLikely,â she nodded, standing up to her full height. She towered over you when you lay down like this and bid you goodbye with a quiet nod before stepping out of the hut.
Your brief moment of solitude was spent fighting sleep and eagerly awaiting actual, real food, appetite becoming more of an afterthought with each passing second.
Digging your heels into the mat below you, you shifted whenever your eyes felt too heavy. Suddenly, footsteps rung out, heels pressing against the floor.
âYouâre back,â you said weakly, eyes falling to the wooden bowls and utensils in either of Acheronâs hands as she returned to the hut.
âYes.â
She agreed shortly with a nod, stepping closer to you before settling down with her legs folded beneath her. It was a comical position, you thought, to see someone so strong tending to you like this. She set the bowls down and helped lift you upright with carefully situated hands.
âThey refused payment and offered more than needed. It took some time.â
You only shrugged at her explanation with a small shake of your head.
âSeemed quick enough.â
The bowls held what looked to be a fish soup. Sitting in its red and hearty broth swam a multitude of vegetables that were unfamiliar versions of the vegetables you once ate in Inendi. Its strangeness to you didnât help your lack of inclination to eat.
Picking up the smaller portion, Acheron handed you a bowl after tucking the spoon into it. Heat bloomed through the container and into your hands, feeling frustratingly heavy for its little content, and you greeted the broth with a slow blink.
It smelled good. Aeons, had it really been a while since youâd eaten real food? But, in the face of the real thing, it felt like too much even when you knew it was nothing more than that of a child-sized meal.
It took you summoning all remaining determination from within to wrap your fingers around the spoon. In that moment, sleep sounded much more appetizing than this, but with Acheronâs stare and the stark emptiness of your stomach, you reluctantly dipped the utensil in for some liquid and an accompanying chunk of fish.
The spoon was heavy and, embarrassingly, shook on its journey to your lips. You steeled yourself into stillness when it came close enough, insisting on cooling it down with a blow despite it being at an adequate temperature to accept into your mouth as is.
Acheron only watched, her own bowl remaining set aside. Not forgotten, just waiting.
âYou must eat,â she said, voice final, with your name acting as the final punctuation of her sentence. You anticipated her words before she said them, and you flicked your gaze from your spoon to her, shooting back a, suddenly, sharp reply.
âI know.â
The bite you took was small, somehow leaving behind broth in the spoonâs catch. It was less of a mouthful that you could manage, but your energy was drained to a seed, and you felt more husk than human as you moved.
As you swallowed, Acheron sat silently by your side. Concern slid over the curve of her shoulders that curled in her attention to you before her hand reached out again to find yours over the bowl.
âLet me help,â she offered, scooting just a bit closer when you cast a glance to her. âPlease,â she added, urging before you could even speak up.
âIâm fine.â You shut your eyes, indignant as your empty stomach spoke for you. Then, you scooped up another mouthful.
Most astoundingly, for yourself, you were able to manage a few more bites. It was admittedly delicious and something youâd appreciate thoroughly any other day, but each bite was more agonizing than the previous, spoon dragging heavier with every lift to your lips.
There was about half left by the time you finally took pause.
Acheron, who ate her own bowl silently, was just about finished, and her offer, remaining readily on the table, was becoming more tempting by the minute. The thought of accepting it, however, brought a tingle of embarrassment that swept up your back and across your face.
You glanced at her between chewing on a vegetable.
Your stare was fortunately heavy enough to capture Acheronâs attention without a single word. She set down her bowl, not seeming particularly moved by its contents, as you slowly turned the handle of your spoon to her silently. Her eyes flicked down to the utensil before returning to your face, an eyebrow arching upwards in question.
You sighed through your nose at her patiently waiting for your verbal agreement. Of course.
With an awkward clearance of your throat, you spoke.
âIâ,â you began quietly, words practically sacrilege to the independence youâd exemplified in your time on the barren Inendi. You swallowed down a lump in your throat that returned right after. ââcould use some help.â
The words slithered from behind and through the jail of your teeth. You didnâtâcouldnâtâtack on a please to the end of your sentence for the life of you, but Acheron paid it no mind. She nodded, brushing her hair over her shoulder before taking your bowl from your hands, fingers sliding along yours.
Acheron accepted your request with a simple and short âalright.â You shouldnât have expected anything more with her typical curtness, and it was something you appreciated in minor as she scooped up a spoonful whose quantity matched your previous bites.
When she raised the spoon up, she brought it to herself first, purposelessly blowing on it to buy you some time as you willed yourself to slacken your jaw from its grit.
On your first bite, the spoon clicked awkwardly against your teeth. She dragged it upwards along your lips to keep anything from spilling and examined your averted gaze as you chewed and swallowed before slowly bringing up another mouthful.
Each scoop, blow, and bite continued until the spoon scraped and scratched at the bottom of the bowl. By then, the two of you were coordinated enough for you to accept the spoon without its usual clatter against your teeth, and your insides twisted in conflict at the thought.
The notion of being fed was no less humiliating by the end of the endeavour, but youâd accustomed yourself to it the best you could allow yourself to. Acheron, on the other hand, remained unbothered. Each of her movements remained casual as she offered you the rest of her bowl, to which you refused, slinking down until your back returned to the mat.
She only nodded, grabbing your bowl and moving away to finish her own. The space she awarded you didnât seem like enough. The hut became nothing but a closet, and you ducked into your blankets and turned onto your side as you looked outside the hut.
The sun was barely coming down to rest, and children continued to run about, their giggles and squeals ringing along the shores even at their distance. It offered a pleasurable buzz of noise that Inendi did not provide, and your body slackened quickly, ignoring the remaining bits of daylight and insisting on sending you off to sleep.
Your stomach, despite all the fuss, was pleasantly full. Silently, you thanked Acheron for her efforts as she stepped out to return the plates to your gracious hosts, but when your eyes finally fell shut, your cheeks remained warm with embarrassment, and the violet woman plagued your dreams the entire night.
