A locked door usually meant whatever inside was off-limits. Whether it was someone dealing with something private, a private meeting that was highly confidential— there were many reasons why you locked the door.
But apparently, the lock was a suggestion to a certain cavalry captain because he just keeps waltzing in anyway.
Reader is Mondstadt's Diplomat and has a pyro vision.
Established Relationship, Mildly suggestive!
At this point, the lock on the door was just a suggestion to Kaeya.
You don’t even bother looking up from your paperwork as he glides in yoour office like he owned the place.
"You know the door is there for a reason, right?"
"Please," Kaeya sets down two cups of coffee–one hot and one cold, to your amusement. "You say that as if you wouldn’t have let me in anyway."
"Plus, I bring snacks,” he declares as if that were enough consolation.
And it was.
Putting your pen down, you stood up and twisted your body, spine popping in a satisfying way. Heading over to the couch, you unceremoniously plop down, patting the space beside you.
“You know me too well,” you grin, leaning back on the couch as you tried to relax your neck and back– the wonders of aging, you cringe.
"How long have you been working on those reports?" Kaeya eyes the veritable mountain of paper crowding your desk. You glare at the pile that didn’t seem to be getting any smaller.
"I've been writing letters, reports, and analysis summaries for the better part of three hours. Damned thing is never-ending."
Humming, Kaeya walks over and sits next to you, giving you much-needed kiss on the cheek. You close your eyes in content, leaning into him.
"Our dear diplomat is working as hard as ever I see." A gloved hand combs through your hair as you lean most of your weight on him, soaking in all the comfort and attention the cavalry captain was giving. "You're not even arguing with me."
At that you peek one eye open, raising an eyebrow. "Bold of you to say that, as if you weren't the one keeping me up last night."
"‘Till dawn this morning, actually." Kaeya cheekily corrects. "Weren't you the one pleading for me to--"
Quick as lightning, you bolt straight up and shut his mouth up with your hand.
“Shut it, you–”
Kaeya has the gall to snicker before bringing up a wrapped pastry to her mouth.
"Eat." he says, passing the pastry to your waiting hands.
You comply without a lot of resistance, inhaling the cold coffee and the pastry he had gotten while he played with your hair, creating and undoing random braids in your hair. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you took the first bite of the still-warm pastry.
You groan in contentment. He’d gone out of his way to get your favorite pastry from your favorite bakery– all the way in Springvale.
Archons, you love this man.
With the food and drinks gone, he pulls you into his arms, dragging you to lie down in his arms as the midday sun passes through the windows. The couch in your office was just big enough that it fit one adult lying down– even if Kaeya’s feet did stick out a little from the armrests.
"Klee's been asking when we'll play with her again," he says into your hair.
"We play with her plenty," you point out, taking the longer part of Kaeya's hair and braiding it loosely. You’d developed a habit of playing with his hair in your downtime. In his defense, his hair was smooth and shiny– if a little windblown, but anyone living in Mondstadt's hair was usually like this.
"Apparently, we don't play enough all together," he says. You shift your head on his chest, pausing. "Klee's been complaining that a certain someone is always away." he continues, poking your cheek.
A twinge of guilt hits you. You’d been away at Fontaine longer than intended with a certain cross-country trial that had demanded your attention. So that was why they had to call Albedo from Dragonspine to pick Klee up– and why the little sparknight didn’t want you to leave her sights. It must've shown on your face because Kaeya pokes you right between your eyebrows.
"No need to look so down, hun.” he hums, combing out your hair. “We know how busy you are with work."
You look up at him, trying to see if he was teasing, but his eyes were their usual calm blue. His mouth was set in a small smile– a gentler one than his usual.
"You say that as if you're not busy as the Cavalry Captain," you grumble, opting to bury your face near his neck. You feel Kaeya laugh.
"And where is the cavalry, hm? Have you had a chance to ask Varka?" You had to laugh at that. The cavalry captain, not having a cavalry, was a running joke the two of you shared.
"Fine, fine. I concede, quartermaster." You grin. You may be the diplomat of Mondstadt, but on a technicality, Kaeya held a higher title than you. "You and your silver tongue, I swear."
"Oh, but you loved my tongue last night–"
You return to smacking him on the shoulder.
–
The quick escape from work ends rather quickly– the whole thing couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. You begrudgingly get up to continue the paperwork as Kaeya bids you goodbye with a kiss to your temple before disappearing as quickly as he came. The rest of the workday goes by quickly, with you shutting yourself inside your office, occasionally answering the knock on your door (like how Celestia said it should be, Kaeya)
At one point, Jean, Eula, and Amber were all in your office, discussing different urgent reports that needed your attention. If even Jean, workaholic acting grandmaster extraordinaire, has to visit you physically, then you must've been far too lax with your paperwork recently.
By the time you stepped away from your desk for the last time, the sun was setting outside– filling your office with warm shades of orange, yellow, and pink. Your hand was covered in ink marks, your back and wrists sore, and your eyes tired and heavy, but most of the paperwork had finally been dealt with.
Eyeing the significantly smaller pile of paper on your desk, you feel a sense of completion as you collect your things and snuff out the candles.
With a content sigh, you exit your little office, locking the door behind you with a satisfying click.
—
At this time of the day, the stone halls of the Knights’ headquarters were fairly busy. The younger trainees were finishing up their training sessions, and the older knights were just getting back from their patrol routes. They greeted you warmly when they saw you.
"Captain!” A young knight runs up to you. “Are you done for today?" they ask.
"Yes, why do you ask?” The knight, Fern, you remember brightens at that.
"Captain Kaeya told me to ask if you were up for a quick sparring demonstration with him for the new knights?”
Oh? A challenge seemed like the perfect way to stretch your limbs from being cooped up all day.
"I'm up for the challenge." You grin. “Tell Kaeya I’ll head there right away, Fern.”
The girl beams when you call her by her name, giving a quick salute before rushing off. As if summoned by a challenge, the pyro vision on your thigh flickers to life.
—
The training ground was located at the south-west wing of the castle.
A sizeable open clearing made of stone, with various weapons lining its walls. Two sides of the training grounds had long wooden benches, where the trainee knights could rest and observe the matches. The stone floor was covered in soft mats to cushion falls when practicing close hand-to-hand combat.
You find Kaeya demonstrating a defensive move to a crowd of recruits. He had taken off his jackets and finishes, leaving him in that damning deep collar white button-down.
Kaeya sees you approach and saunters up to you with a smile.
"Finally decided to grace us with your reclusive presence, captain?"
"I would've come sooner if someone had actually told me on time." You shot back as you met him in the middle.
“Shall we get to fighting, captain? I’d hate to keep you waiting even more.” You smile sweetly as you remove your chest armor, also leaving you in your white button-down. You pretend not to notice the way Kaeya’s eyes sweep over your figure.
The Knights of Favonius weren’t really all that strict with the captain’s uniform choice. It just had to bear the insignia of the Knights somewhere visible and be viable for combat.
Some of the creative liberties you can enjoy from being from the country of freedom, you think.
You remove the metal arm braces on your forearms, making Kaeya raise an eyebrow.
“Removing all your armor? Not very smart.”
“Oh, I’m looking to make this a quick fight.”
Kaeya only bows graciously as you extend your hand, summoning your weapon.
"I think it's time I show them a worthy battle then."
—
The two of you stood in the middle of the training center, slowly circling each other. Kaeya’s sword poised to his side, as you drag the tip of your polearm leisurely on the ground.
The two of you had similar fighting styles– relying on your speed and wits to overpower opponents. You weren’t reliant on brute force, preferring to think on your feet.
Kaeya charges forward first, throwing cryo icicles. In return, the vision on your thigh heats up as you call your blue flames forward. You hear the recruits gasp at the sight of the flames, but you pay them no mind, jumping to dodge one of Kaeya’s swipes at your legs. The clashing elements left a misty fog in its wake, making the recruits squint to see just what was happening.
You imbue your polearm with pyro and click a hidden mechanism on the spear.
Your spear was a unique one, customized by Natlan’s best blacksmith. It had two modes, one for disarming and one for attacking– perfect for a diplomat who usually fought with words first. The blade curved into a U-shape that could tighten and loosen to your will.
You throw the polearm like a javelin. Kaeya narrowly dodges. Using your Pyro vision, the flames form a rope that pulls the polearm back into your hands.
“Don’t hold back now.” He smirks. “I’d hate for the recruits tot hink you’re going easy on me.”
You arc your polearm and he dodges by a hair. “If I really went all out, you’d be flat on your ass right now.”
In a flash he’s behind you, your forearm pinned behind your back as he whispers in your ear.
“You say that, but I seem to recall you rather enjoyed being on your back last night.” He grins, voice low enough so that only you can hear.
!!
You feel your heart skip, hand moving on its own to hit your polearm back, hitting his ankles, making him fall to the floor.
Freed, you whirl back, face burning, but a victorious grin on your face.
“Flat on your ass, like I promised.”
The two of you are smiling at each other like its a challange. He shoots sharp ice towards you, making you bend backwards into a flip.
You roll the momentum over into a roll.
The battle becomes an exchange of hits and wits. Punches and kicks added to the mix as the two of you gradually get quieter, focus sharpening as the lethality of the blows grew. The trainees slowly tense up, eyeing the two of you warily— practice spars usually weren’t this intense.
All of a sudden, you hit the ground with your polearm, sending a wall of blue fire straight for the cavalry captain. He throws up his ice shield, sending a flurry of spikes in your direction.
The light from the flames is blinding, the recruits shielding their eyes away as it becomes too much. Steam and mist hiss, obscuring everything.
When it clears, you and Kaeya are standing, his sword millimeters from your throat. Your spear was wound around his neck as well, the curved blade just barely touching his neck. The two of you were staring daggers into each other before smiling.
The recruits are holding their breath even when you lower your weapons at the same time.
Kaeya laughs, stepping closer, brushing frost off your shoulders. “And that’s a draw, as always.”
In response, you pat soot from his arms.
“And that, my dear knights, is the lesson.” You smile at the recruits, who stared owlishly. “Strength alone doesn’t win battles. Never underestimate your opponent, even if you think you’ve already won.”
“I was wondering why the training grounds were still this crowded. It’s a shame we missed most of the fight.”
Whipping around, you see Jean and Lisa near the archway, looking amused.
“The poor darlings look ready to faint.” Lisa chuckles. “Are you sure you two didn’t traumatize them?”
The trainees were a mix of shellshocked, sheepish, and entranced, making you bite back a smile.
“That ends todays lesson.” Kaeya says, clapping his hands. “Tomrrow, Eula will be teaching you the recon formations. Be sure to get some rest, that lesson’s a long one.”
They scatter with a buzz, and you hear snippets of them talking about your fight, excited conversation filling the air as they clear out.
As the crowd thins, you make your way back to the benches where you discarded your armor, opting to leave them out. Kaeya leans closer. “I’d say a hard day’s work deserves a good dinner, don’t you think?”
“Dinner AND a drink.” You correct, and he grins brighter.
“Ah, my dear, you know me too well.”
“Play nice, you two,” Jean calls out to the two of you as you make your way out of the training grounds. Kaeya’s hand finds yours as you walk out of the headquarters.
or you and Marius think you're so smart using non-verbal languages to hide your relationship around the other NXX members.
Unfortunately for you, your teammates are smarter than that.
Crossposted on Ao3 as an Marius x OC if you don't want to wait for everything to be converted :D
Next Chapter >
I. Sign Language
Vyn arrives early to the NXX meeting-- to his chagrin.
The first one to catch on to your hijinks is Vyn, because why wouldn't he?
All things considered, Vyn was having a good day. He had woken up early and didn't feel groggy for once; his plants were thriving when he had watered them that morning, and he only had one scheduled lecture.
With such a nice morning, of course his afternoon only goes downhill after that.
The sun is just setting as he arrives at the NXX office in the afternoon. He swiftly removes his coat, entering the high-security building using the improved identification system Luke and Marius had set up. He was ready to make himself a nice pot of tea and maybe even dig into the secret pile of desserts he, Rosa, and Luke love to stash in the fridge while he waited for the others. He was about to enter the kitchen when he noticed two other NXX members were already there.
Marius is leaning on the bar counter, one foot on the support bar of a kitchen stool and the other planted on the ground, fiddling with his phone. That was normal. What was odd was the way you were nearly folded on a chair, your head in your hands, as you looked numbly to the side. Usually, you were very chipper and eager to talk to the other CEO. Vyn watches as you groan, making Marius look up from his phone.
He sees Marius' right hand form into the shape of an okay gesture, and he tilts his head.
Are you okay?
Vyn raises an eyebrow in interest. He didn't know Marius knew sign language. Even odder, you look up at him from your stooped position on the counter and sign back, shaping your hands into a loose C shape on your chest and dropping them down.
Tired.You sign back. Vyn sees you smile a little before continuing.You look like shit.
Marius scoffs, hands moving quickly to sign his reply.
Excuse you, I'm an absolute looker. Marius argues. Plus, you wouldn't be so damn tired if we weren't up all night fu-
That was all Vyn needed to see before he stepped into the kitchen, making sure his footsteps were heavy.
He had to make sure to make his presence known. He could only hope his smile looked normal as he walked up to the two, even when he felt the edges of his mouth twitching.
Screw getting dessert, Vyn thought. He felt like he was going to be sick.
"Hi Vyn, " You say, smiling as you right yourself up on the chair, resting your chin on your hand. "You're here early."
"It's almost five in the afternoon." Marius deadpans. "The only thing early here is his graying hair due to his age-" Marius is cut off by you smacking his arm. Vyn watches unimpressed as the younger male jumps.
"Ow! What??"
Vyn looks blankly at Marius as he goes about making his tea, pouring the already-hot water into his cup of black tea. After the appropriate steeping time, he looks back at the two, only to find them still squabbling. Vyn tunes them out. There was zero indication of the explicit conversation that the two were having earlier on their faces.
Innocent as May children these two. Vyn thinks drily.
He takes a long sip of his tea as he thinks about the consequences of this newfound information. For their team and for the world at large. Ideally, the team dynamics wouldn't really change all that much. Vyn knew the two weren't the type to mix business with pleasure. Then again, these two were the most well-known public figures in their little group. If word got out about the two CEOs dating, they were going to get into a press nightmare.
If you and Marius were truly dating, then PAX and Hyperia's stocks were about to soar through the roof. He watches the two of you argue, feeling a headache coming on.
Really, this wasn't worth coming in early at all.
"Vyn! Can you tell this heathen not to bother me and that he looks more like a crumbled pumpkin." You plea to the psychologist. Vyn doesn't know how their conversation devolved to this but to your delight, Vyn promptly threw a piece of cold apple pie to Marius' face with a smile.
Justice is a treat best served cold, after all.
-----
Next Chapter >
A/N:
This was a Marius von Hagen X OC that I rewrote slightly to make it into an X reader.
The entire thing is done and published in my Ao3 if you want to read the whole thing :D
You come and go around Teyvat, but a certain blue-haired eyepatched cavalry captain keeps catching your eye and staying in your thoughts
or
Mondstadt's diplomat is often away, but when she returns to the scent of dandelions and the city of winds, there is always a certain captain waiting in front of Mondstadt's gates.
A collection of Mondstadt-centered stories.
Take a break | Oneshot
A locked door usually meant whatever inside was off-limits. Whether it was someone dealing with something private, a private meeting that was highly confidential-- there were many reasons why you locked the door.
But apparently, the lock was a suggestion to a certain cavalry captain because he just keeps waltzing in anyway.
mildly suggestive!
-----
A drop of poison ruins a barrel of wine | Oneshot
"I've seen a lot of stupid things in my time, but this takes the crown." was Kaeya's clipped reply.
"Big talk for someone who would have done the same thing." You laugh, voice hoarse as your throat dries up. There's a rare glare on Kaeya's face, his mouth remains set in a hard line as his arms cross.
Maybe drinking a goblet full of poison wasn't ideal, but hey, it was either you or a certain knight--- for them, you'd choose the poison any day.
Many hands make light work || Chapter 2. Language of the Fans
Summary:
Luke wasn't planning on eavesdropping- he swears. But if all it took to break into the CCTV of the building was running a quick wall of code-- well.
He watches over the two at a high-brow gala using the CCTVs-- did Marius know how easy it was to hack into his company’s foota-- Luke squints before moving closer to the camera feed.
.
.
.
Did he just see that correctly?!
< Previous Next >
Luke happens to notice the two by sheer coincidence.
He wasn't even planning to spy on them, he swears. He had to look out of necessity, after all. He was going over the live CCTV footage of the two's current infiltration.
It was some high-brow event where the two of them were in attendance. Normally, Luke would be there with them acting as a server or some other identity; unfortunately, it was a relatively impromptu mission, so he had just resorted to watching over the two using the live footage.
It had been one of those typical ball gala events that people with plenty of money to burn often threw. Flipping to a camera, the detective sees you talking to a couple of guests, a purple fan in your left hand.
Marius was sitting at the other end of the table, but he was in the direct path of your eye contact.
Luke noticed you catch Marius' eye with an almost imperceptible nod.
Without stopping your ongoing conversation, Luke watches as you raise the fan to your heart and open it, letting it stay there. At the other end of the corner, Luke spots Marius smiling a little before returning to his conversation.
Wait, what?
Luke remembers a detective novel he once read where the blackmailed witness who couldn't speak verbally, resorted to the language of the fans so that the mystery would be solved. Luke studied and memorized that because you never knew what might come in handy —but had he seen it correctly?
You are the owner of my heart?
Luke blinked at the footage before going back and checking again. Next to him, Peanut chirped disapprovingly.
Even after reversing the footage, playing it back slowly,then playing it at twice the speed, the result stayed the same.
Huh.
Interesting.
Luke went back to the live footage. You and Marius were now in a nearer vicinity to each other. Luke notices the mask in Marius' hands right away. If the ladies of that era had fans, the men had masks —Phantom of the Opera style. Luke watched as Marius raises the mask to his right cheek. Luke's eyes widened.
I cherish you, my love.
Luke watches as you cough, disguising your fluster as an ill-time fit and he has to grip his chair for support.
Oh my god, the two were dating. Oh my god, he has to tell Rosa. Did anyone else in the NXX know?
Luke paused.
Could he even tell anyone? He liked to imagine that the NXX were all close friends, and they wouldn't really need to hide their relationship. Then again, it might just be their usual CEO- hurdles.
Luke can't really relate to the two of them, given their public status in Stellis. While he had a double life he was living, his public persona wasn’t one that was as out in the limelight as the other two. He supposes that it was for the best that the two of them were together. With a grin, he goes back to watching the footage.
Oh well, he'll keep their secret for now. Luke files the information in his brain with a smug grin.
It wasn't often he got blackmail material on both Eloise AND Marius after all. Luke leaned back on his chair, eager to watch how it would all play out.
Summary: You're haunted by memories of a life that feels so familiar and a face that fills your heart with too many emotions to name.
At first, you chalk it up as creative dreams, content to use them to draw inspiration for choreography. So what if you changed the ending into a happy one? So what if you blatantly ignored the pounding of your heart as the dreams all inevitably in nightmares? With blood splattered countless times-- on tile, on sand, on the ocean floor.
You were determined to give your dreams a happy ending, damn it.
The stab of a knife to the heart sends her sitting upright on her bed.
Gasping for air as she opened her eyes, she tried her best to calm her heart down as it thunders in her chest.
Again.
She’d died in her dreams again.
It was like she could still feel the break of her skin as the knife plunged into her heart. If dreams were a manifestation of unconscious fears, then she must have done something horrendously wrong. The dreams were too literal, too detailed, and too realistic, almost always ending in bloodshed.
She sighed. Next to her, in the window of the apartment, the beginnings of sunlight were starting to peak through the drawn blinds. There wasn’t much merit in going back to sleep again, although her eye bags were going to suffer ( and the makeup artists already hate her enough as it is).
Getting up, she takes her phone from the bedside table, plucking it away from the wireless charger stand.
5:01 A.M.
No self-respecting soul would be awake at the hours she was, but then again, not everyone had as bad a case of reoccurring nightmares as her. She opened her notes app, clicking on the long document she had as she typed in what she could remember, the details slowly but surely fading from her mind.
If she closed her eyes, she could still picture her new round of horrors. How many was that now? Three? Four?
The first dream she remembered had actually been sweet. She had dreamt of it when she was a child, excited by the prospect of getting to school for the new semester. She’d spent the entire day playing with the two kids next door, a girl and a boy who lived with their grandma. The girl was older than her by a year, but she had smiled at her, promising to accompany her to school and help her make friends. The boy, who was a fair bit taller than both of them, only smiled, ruffling their hair as he passed them snacks from the nearby store.
She’d conked out the moment her head hit the pillow, only to dream of the sea. A common theme, she’d later find out.
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
The waves were crashing around her feet as the tides ebbed and flowed. She was wearing a yellow sundress her mother had insisted she wear. Smiling, she went on her knees to dig around the shore, intent on looking for treasures she could bring back home to her mother.
“What are you doing?” A voice calls out to her, making her whip around, the one shell she had collected slipping from her grasp.
“Wha- hey!” She’d complained. A young boy, a little taller than her, dressed in a plain white shirt and simple brown pants, only looked at her, intrigued.
“What are you doing?” he repeated. Something about his voice drew her in. It was melodic, like he was singing the words in tune rather than sounding them out.
“I’m collecting seashells.” She replied, before frowning. “Or at least, I was before you rudely interrupted. Didn’t your mama tell you it's rude to interrupt others?”
She felt a sense of childish petulance as she turned back around, looking for the seashell she had dropped. It had been a pretty cone, with pink grazing the ends and a dusting of red spots. She had wanted to give it to her mama.
The boy sniffed, looking irritated, before wandering closer. Despite their proximity to the waves that crashed ashore, he looked dry, unaffected by the water. Meanwhile, the edges of her dress were starting to get soaked from the sea spray.
“You’re doing it wrong.” The boy says.
“What do you mean?” She could feel a full glare settle on her face. Her mama did say not to be rude to strangers, but she couldn’t help herself when the said stranger was being so terrible.
“You’re doing it wrong.” He repeats, in a matter of fact tone that has the anger in her heart bubbling.
“No, I’m not!” She says, frowning. She takes a better look at the offending stranger, making sure to remember his face so she can complain about it to her mother later. Purple wavy hair floated in the breeze, features schooled into a mask of indifference. What struck her the most were his eyes.
They were a mesmerizing shade of pinks and purples, looking like they shifted in the sun.
Said eyes were currently trained on her. He walked over to her, also sitting on his knees.
“You’re taking broken seashells.” He said, blunt and unimpressed.
“Well, they’re still pretty, no?Plus, I’m only getting this for me! If I find any perfect ones, those are for mama!” She defends the seashells in her arms. Sure, some of them were riddled with holes and cracked or chipped, but she thinks they added character.
The boy was quiet as he listened to her defense, only giving a noncommittal hum.
“How did you even get them?” he asked again.
“You’re full of questions” she said.
“You humans are a curious bunch.” At his reply, she laughed.
“You make it sound like you’re not human too.”
“Well?” he ignored her, opting to wait impatiently for an answer. She doesn’t know why but she indulges him anyway.
“I just dig around like this.” She gestures to her kneeling position, and sandy hands. The boy shakes his head, smiling larger this time.
“There’s a faster way you know.” He smiles.
“What is it?” She can’t stop the childish curiosity that tugs at her.
“Would you like to know?”
“What’s your name?” She calls out, and just like that, she’s the one asking the questions now.
“------” the boy’s name is muffled in her dream, she can only watch as he offers her a small smile. The sight of his smile disarms her defenses immediately and she beams, offering up her own name in return.
“------! Want to come play with me?” she offered, seashell collecting forgotten. The boy looked intrigued, smiling and moving to stand up before pausing.
“Don’t you want to collect seashells to bring home to your… mama?” The word mama sounded out weird on his tongue, like it was his first time saying the words. The girl pauses then nods with a slight pout.
“I love the broken seashells for me, but I can’t find the perfect one for mama.” For some reason, tears almost spring to her eyes, high intensity emotions too much for a small child.
The boy looks concerned, seeing the tears pool at her eyes.
“Don’t cry.” He said eyes filling with concerned, taking out a carved flute. “Want to see something cool?”
The girl only had enough time to tilt her head in question before the boy started playing a lively tune. He could play the instrument well, the girl thought. The unease in her heart lifting the more she heard the boy play. The notes were full, and the tempo dynamic. To her delight, an army of crabs started marching in a straight line, carrying all types of seashells.
“Take your pick.” The boy says as he pockets the flute. He smiles at the crabs who dance around him. She wasn’t really an expert on crabs, but they looked happy to be in the boy’s presence. She realized, she was happy too. She smiles up at the boy, tugging him by his hand.
“Sit with me! Let’s pick together!”
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
The first dream had been pleasant enough, A fun day of picking seashells and building sandcastles with a boy her age. It had been a calming balm that soothed her nerves. She woke up for the first day of school well-rested, a content smile playing on her lips. She’d even woken up before the alarm! She felt like the dream had been her good luck charm, and her neighbor, the older girl, had smiled when she recounted the story.
That dream had been the first and only good dream.
She remembered eagerly awaiting the next dream, only to wake up in a panic.
The same boy that had been in her first dream visited her again, but this time, she had been plunged underwater, the salty seawater filling her lungs. He was being held back by two older people. Not human, her little ten year old brain had realized in a panic, as she caught a glimpse of long fish-like tails. The saltwater burned her eyes, it burned her lungs, even as one of the older person held her by the neck. She trashed and fought, but there was only so much she could do, feeling the burn of water entering her lungs. The hand around her neck clawed around her, leaving painful spots. She thinks she sees the boy crying, reaching out for her. She reaches out as well, but her world faded to black.
The ping of notifications sounded from your phone, buzzing as the do not disturb mode ended. The schedule for today sent by her manager, the new music files she asked for her to mix later, texts and notifications from social media making her phone buzz.
The coffee she had made, an iced latte with a heavy helping of sugar, lay on a shell coaster that had been a gift from her childhood friend, she was a Deepspace Hunter now.
In a way, the horrible nightmare she’d endured as a child had been a blessing.
Her first competition piece inspired by the incident won her gold at the young age of fifteen. A macabre tale of forbidden friendship between a naïve human child and a mermaid prince, ending in tragedy that had brought the audience and the judges to tears.
Her name started popping up in all the dance circles, slowly but surely, even becoming a household name. It was how she had gotten into the idol industry, after all.
In a city as tumultuous as Linkon, people were keen for entertainment. The entertainment world was glamorous—with no end of designer clothing and high-tech equipment at her disposal. At the same time, it was also cutthroat; you always had to be amazing, always had to be perfect and original. She had made headlines as a successful solo artist but they would never know the nightmares that plagued her. The insomnia and the physical beating her body took as she continually pushed it to its limit.
No, she would be the performer, Melisande. She’d give them hope and smiles, and something to strive for.
The nightmares would be reserved for her. The visions of death and bloodshed burned into her memory. And she was going to turn them into art.
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“I am begging you at this point to take sleeping pills.” Garnet, her manager, had practically begged when she opened the apartment doors and saw the girl’s face.
She only gave her manager a tired smile, pointing to the notebook that contained detailed notes for a new song she was developing, no doubt inspired by the newest recurring nightmare.
“Why can’t you take inspiration from other stuff, like love, nature, family stories, and other bullshit like the other artists,” Garnet asks, exasperated as she and the performer enter a white artist’s van.
“Because then they’d be just like the other artists.” She laughed, taking out her tablet to continue finetuning a melody that had been stuck in her head. “Plus, if I’m going to be haunted by ghosts of Christmas past, at least they get to turn into pretty songs.”
Garnet only rolls her eyes, used to the antics of the performer.
“You know Laine’s going to kill you for having darker eye bags again, right?”
Melisande cringes. She’d been trying not to think of the wrath of her beloved makeup artist. With a nervous laugh, she looks outside the window as Linkon City passes her on the way to the studio.
“What’s on today’s schedule?”
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After that, she spent most of the day in her studio, mixing music and writing lyrics. As an artist dedicated to creating as much of her work as possible, she was already outlining the choreography in her head, drafting the stage design, and dreaming up concepts for the stage outfits.
Her newest nightmare had been about a divine god and his devout follower. It had started abruptly, the god rescuing her and ultimately asking her to become his follower. It had ended in the follower sacrificing her life for the god for a ritual.
The arrangement that was open on her computer was romantic, somber, and hesitant. She’d wanted to capture the unease in the god’s eyes as he approached the follower. As much as he had tried to hide it, it had been there—a spark of caution in his approach that couldn’t be hidden by how casual he was.
Garnet knocked on the door of her studio rousing her from her train of thought. Sand Studio’s name had been more of an afterthought to Melisande. Unlike earlier, when she had looked exasperated by Melisande’s eyebags, Garnet looked excited, grinning as she walked in and held a stack of papers.
“You won’t believe what just happened!” She grinned.
“What?”
“At least guess, Sand.” Garnet groaned.
“I don’t have to perform for that one bougie concert?” She asked hopefully. Garnet only rolled her eyes, amused.
“Nope, that’s still on your schedule for next week. No getting out of that one.” Melisande groaned. That was a “charity” banquet she wasn’t looking forward to. After a bit of digging, it was clear that it was only for the entertainment of Linkon’s elite and wealthy. There was no actual charity to be found, but unfortunately, she’d already said yes.
“What kind of news is it then? If it has you excited for once?”
“Do you know the famous artist, Rafayel?”
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It turns out, the reason Garnet had been so excited was because she’d secured Melisande a collaboration with the famous artist Rafayel. Thomas, Rafayel’s manager had just confirmed Rafayel’s apparent interest in creating her next album’s art and maybe even become a creative director for the music video shoot.
Garnet had been over the moon since her collaboration had been spontaneous and Rafayel was known for declining invitations and being elusive. The first meeting was set to happen in two days.
Which meant Melisande had to have something at least tolerable to the ears by then.
No pressure. (Tons of pressure)
Garnet coughed and she straightened up. Right. She was in a meeting, she remembered. One for that horrible charity gala she’d mistakenly said yes to.
Can you really blame her for not listening? Her setlist for the event was already decided—only three songs since they’d also invited other big names. The set design was already roughed out, budget had been approved, really there was no reason for her to be here. But at Garnet’s insistence that she be present and that it’ll be good for her branding. A text message popped up on her phone, as the investors went on and on.
Unlocking it discreetly, she saw a message from Hunter, the older girl from her childhood who had, ironically enough, become a deepspace Hunter. Caleb, their other friend, was an Aviation Pilot somewhere in Skyhaven. She and Hunter often kept in touch, and occasionally, she sent messages to their group chat.
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Melisande smiled as she locked her phone, looking back up to listen in on the meeting. Garnet stared her down, her own phone going off, as Hunter likely asked if her schedule really was that free.
She didn’t really mind ditching the next planned schedule to meet with Hunter, it was just more songwriting anyway. Nothing she couldn’t really get done in about thirty minutes.
Plus, when was the last time she saw Hunter? The café she’d asked to meet in knew the two of them as regulars, and even gave them a small closed off room so they wouldn’t be bothered by paparazzi. She didn’t really mind interacting with fans, but sometimes it became a problem when they started crowding around her. The last time it had gone unchecked, a stampede nearly happened in Downtown Linkon.
Garnet, who had finished reading the text, only gave a small roll of her eyes, nodding subtly before turning back to the investors with a smile. Melisande smiled. Garnet was a quick study as always. She was glad to have picked her as her manager.
The investors were still going about their pitch, and if the presentation deck was anything to judge by, they were only halfway through.
She coughed before standing up to gather her things.
“So sorry to interrupt, but I have a prior schedule I have to go to.” She smiled her signature Idol™ smile as she closed her bag. “If there’s any other pressing matter I have to attend to, please reach out to me through my manager.” She waved to Garnet who only nodded. She didn’t wait for anyone else to talk, heading on over to the door.
In less than five minutes she was out of the office building.
The café she and Hunter used to frequent was relatively empty, to her relief. It’s bright, open layout allowed for enough sun to enter that the place emitted a homey vibe without getting too hot. In the corner, stacks of Kitty Cards on a far left section caught her attention. Maybe she’ll invite Hunter for a quick game? Had she gotten any better at it? Or would Melisande beat her for the 100th time?
She smiled to herself. They’d kept a running tally of their wins and losses since they were kids.
Entering the café, she spotted Hunter seated in the main café space. She was talking to someone animatedly. Melisande took a quick glance at the male, just to make sure that Hunter wasn’t being hit on by some creep before she ordered coffee.
The male was tall, taller than both her and Hunter, with fluffy silver blonde hair that reminded Melisande of stars. He looked to be Hunter’s age and Hunter was smiling. An acquaintance? The male seemed to notice Melisande’s stare and looked up, meeting her in the eye.
His expression was slightly indifferent, but he tilted his head as if to ask what she wanted. Hunter followed his gaze, smiling brightly when she sees her.
“Sandy!” Hunter greets, getting up from her seat and walking over. The blonde followed her. “Glad you can make it!”
Melisande smiles and hugs the girl in return.
“Wasn’t going to miss a chance to hang out with my favorite Hunter.” She laughs before looking at the male who had followed Hunter.
“Is he… an acquaintance of yours?”
Hunter looks at the male, smiling.
“He’s my partner actually. Xavier, this is Melisande. Melisande, Xavier.”
The male, Xavier gives her a once-over before smiling and reaching out his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, miss.” His voice was gentle, as if a little sleepy. He had a little smile on his face that Melisande mirrored.
“Nice to meet you too. If I’m going to be honest, I thought you were hitting on Hunter, so I was about to give you a piece of my mind.” She laughed as Hunter looked mortified.
“Sand, no!” Hunter groaned, face flushing red. Melisande couldn’t help but laugh.
“Sorry Hunter, have to live up to the childhood friend title somehow.” She grins. Watching the pair interact, Xavier looks amused.
“I’m glad to see someone watching over Hunter while I’m away.” He said with a smile, prompting a What’s that supposed to mean?! from said Hunter.
“I still have to hand in our report, so I’ll be on my way. See you, Hunter. Miss Melisande.”
Just like that, Xavier waved and exited the building.
“I don’t think I saw any bag or paper with him,” Melisande prompted, frowning. “But he’s nice. I didn’t know there were handsome deepspace hunters like him.”
Hunter laughs.
“Xavier is kind of one-of-a-kind.” She says but doesn’t elaborate. “I already ordered your drink. The owner was just waiting for you to arrive.”
Hugging the hunter the both of them walk up to the bar where the owner was smiling at them. True to her word, the drink in question was ready. A sugary mess of sweet whipped cream shaped into a cat that buried an ice latte somewhere underneath it was presented to Melisande.
Taking a seat at the private booth, she looks Hunter up and down.
“How’s being a Deepspace Hunter treating you? Any injuries? Are you good? They’re not overworking you are they?”
Hunter only laughs at the questions, taking a sip of her own drink.
“You’re almost as bad as Zayne and Caleb.”
“It’s been a while since we met!” Melisande defended. “And I am not as insane as those two.”
“Well, we can’t all be famous idol performers!” Hunter laughs. “Those two have been asking about you, you know.”
“Tell Zayne I’ll actually meet him if he manages to get out of Akso Hospital.” Melisande smiles. The two are quiet for a bit, enjoying their drinks and each other’s company contentedly.
“I can’t believe you’re such a bigshot singer now.” Hunter smiles. “I’m very proud of you, Sand. Who would’ve thought the little girl who cried when she dropped her ice cream is selling out stadiums.”
“That was a one-time thing.” Melisande groans. “Plus, that was totally Zayne’s fault since he won’t freeze it.” Hunter grins.
“So how have you been, my favorite artist?” She asks the singer. “Weren’t you in a meeting when I messaged?”
“I was, but it really wasn’t that important.” Melisande waved off. “It was just this dumb meeting for that dumb fake charity gala I accidentally said yes to.” Hunter looked intrigued, leaning in a bit.
“The one for next week?”
“Yep. The very same. You know it?”
“I’m attending, actually.” Hunter smiles. “Part of it is planned by an acquaintance of mine.”
“My dear Hunter is getting so well-known.” She grins. “With you there, maybe it won’t be as boring and bougie as I thought then!”
“I’ll be there to work undercover.” Hunter laughs. “You aren’t supposed to blow my cover.”
Melisande pouts.
“Fine. Your partner, Xavier, will be there too then?”
Hunter pauses a bit to think but nods.
“Actually, I think Akso Hospital was invited too. Zayne mentioned something about having to be their representative.”
Melisande feels her heart lighten at the growing number of familiar faces she was going to see. Maybe the gala wouldn’t be as dreadful as she previously thought.
“How fun! It’ll be a reunion.” She smiles, taking a small dessert spoon and wreaking havoc on the whipped cream.
Hunter remained quiet, thinking about how Melisande’s presence would affect her mission. She’d have to ask Xavier about the details of the girl’s performance. Even though she knew the girl in front of her would have told her everything if she had asked. The gala was just a front for the rich to discreetly trade items with each other. Their true target was to check if there were going to be illegal protocores on sale.
“Anything new I can look forward to, music-wise?” Hunter asks, deciding to change the topic. She was keen to know more about her friend’s current projects.
“The new album is rough, but it’s coming along.” Melisande smiles. “I’m actually skipping some songwriting in the schedule to hang out right now.”
“Garnet’s going to blame me for that you know.” Hunter groans but Melisande only shakes her head.
“She knows I’ve been kind of stuck, she won’t mind. Plus, I think she hopes I finally find more… normal inspiration, if you get what I mean.” Hunter nods, remembering the girl’s constant nightmares.
“Do you still have those dreams?”
“They haven’t stopped since I was ten,” Melisande laughs. “I’d be more unsettled if I suddenly started having nice dreams.”
She could vaguely feel Hunter’s resonance evol working, doing a quick scan of her own evol and making water from a nearby vase move.
“Shame you don’t have a dream manipulation evol.” Hunter sighs.
“If I did, I would’ve used it a long time ago.” She laughs, twirling the water around her fingers before returning them to the vase. “Besides, water manipulation is pretty useful. Specially for performances.”
“Only you would think to use it that way.” Hunter smiles, remembering the television performance of the girl where she had ridden onto stage on a horse made out of water that had been created by the girl’s evol. The press had gushed about the girl’s brilliant use of her own evol for weeks.
“Garnet also let me go ‘cause she was in a good mood, by the way.” Melisande said, thinking back to the pleased smile on her manager’s face earlier that day.
“Garnet? In a good mood? Now that’s rare.”
“We confirmed a collaboration with some bigshot artist called Rafayel, apparently.”
Hunter chokes on her drink as the words left Melisande’s tongue.
“Rafayel? He actually agreed to do a collaboration?” Melisande looks her over, taking note of the surprise on the other girl’s face.
“What you know him too?” she jokes but the playful frown on Hunter’s face meant she’d hit the nail on the head. “Wait, really?”
“I had to ask for his help for a case and we’ve kept in contact since.”
Melisande smiles.
“Lot of men causing you trouble lately, Hunter?” Hunter smiles back.
“You don’t know that half of it.” She groans, causing the other to laugh.
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Time quickly passes in the company of good friends, and there was only so much of her daily schedule Melisande could ignore before Garnet blew up her phone. Standing up after Garnet called to tell her she was picking the girl up, she felt hesitant to leave her friend.
“I don’t wanna go yet.” Melisande pouted. She knew she was being childish, clinging on to Hunter’s dress shirt like a cat but she couldn’t help it. Hunter, used to the girl’s antics, only looked amused.
“We’re going to see each other at the gala.”
“But you’re undercover and I can’t go near you.” She pouts. Hunter laughed, if she thought about it long enough, the girl reminded her of another clingy artist. One the other girl would meet soon.
“I always liked the name of this café.” Hunter suddenly says, smiling.
“Destiny Café?” Melisande tilts her head as Hunter nods.
“It brings us together, like destiny.” Hunter grins.
“When did you start being so cheesy?” Melisande laughs, “ I swear, it’s like you have a boyfriend or something.”
At the girl’s accusation, Hunter only grins.
“Something like that.” Melisande gasps.
“Traitor—”
Before she could continue, the familiar sound of Garnet’s car horn sounded outside. Hunter moved to pay their tab, but before she could Melisande ran over to the waiting owner, hitting her card over to the waiting machine.
Smiling at Hunter as she walked to the exit, she waved to the pouting hunter.
“Gotta be faster, Miss Hunter!” She laughed, turning around and exiting the building.
Talking with Hunter had lightened her mood. Her inspiration had returned tenfold after hanging out with her and she was all but booking it back to her own studio.
Apart from Marius, whose interview was currently being broadcast live on television in the NXX base, everyone was present at the NXX base, sifting through the papers for their current leads.
The show that invited Marius had a producer who was connected to their current case. As it happens, they've been trying to score an interview with Marius for a while now. So with a bit of networking magic from you, Marius was on television, expertly dodging questions as he was being interviewed (more like interrogated) by a perky reporter for their noontime talk show.
The reporter gets around to the usual question about his dating life.
"The public demands an answer, Mr. Von Hagen." The reporter smiles conspiratorially. "Are you seeing someone?"
Marius smiles, his lips twitching into his signature cocky Marius Von Hagen™ grin that promised a world of trouble for his personal PR team.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
The show audience crows in delight at his implication. To Stellis, Marius was still known as a billionaire playboy CEO. His many companions often got caught up in dating scandals involving him and were thrust into the spotlight.
All of the NXX had been involved in at least one dating scandal with Marius (Vyn’s face had been priceless when they showed him the headline “PAX CEO MARIUS VON HAGEN DATING PSYCHOLOGIST TURNED TUTOR’ early in the morning)
“So you ARE confirming it?” The reporter presses, pleased to have gotten the ‘scoop of the week’ from the young CEO. Marius only laughs; he leans in towards the camera, as if sharing a secret, and the audience eats it up. The mic picks up the crowd's excited chatter, being broadcasted as Luke raises an eyebrow at the flat screen tv displaying the live.
“Should I let you in on a secret?” Marius smiles, leaning back on the plush white sofa and messing his hair.
“Of course!” the reporter replies, smiling amicably as he gives Marius the handheld microphone.
“There is someone.” Marius declares with a grin. The crowd goes wild with cheers and whistles. Rosa and the others stop what they were doing and turn to the television. That wasn’t the plan.
“I’m not going to tell who it is, though.” At the sounds of boos and jeering, he adds, “How about I play a game with everybody?”
“Which is?”
“I give you one clue, and everyone can figure out who it is.” Marius says.
“You don’t harass anyone for answers,” Marius warns, a small frown showing itself on his brow. “If anyone has an answer they think is right, they can come to me.”
The crows positively buzz. You stare at the TV in mock interest, trying not to react too much, lest your teammates catch on. She forces her face into an expression of acceptable shock, eyebrows high, and mouth open.
“What is Marius doing?" Rosa asks, concern lacing her voice. She tries discreetly to look at you, who has gone slightly rigid.
"Making dumb decisions." Vyn says, setting down the stack of psychology reports he had been reading and staring at the show.
“Well? What do you think, folks? " The reporter cheers. You had to give the host some praise—they knew how to work their crowd.
The camera focuses on Marius as the crowd quiets down. To his credit, Marius didn’t seem fazed or nervous. Instead, he stared straight at the camera, a small smirk playing on his lips. All eyes were on the young CEO as he raised his palm. Pinching his fingers he raises it to the side of his nose and swipes it to the other side– the ASL for flower.
Inwardly, you let out a sigh of relief. It was vague enough that people who didn’t know sign language wouldn’t get the gesture. The people who did would have a vague clue.
Your NXX codename shouldn’t raise any red flags as well, since Rosa had a similar theme going.
By this point, the NXX was listening attentively, and Marius's little ASL stunt was enough confirmation for all of them.
“That’s all you get.” Marius snickers as he sits back down, completely ignoring the yells of a mostly confused crowd.
Back at the NXX building, three heads slowly turned to look at you, who was sweating bullets, as you tried your best to keep an innocent smile. There was no way all of them knew ASL right?
Right?
You chanced a glance at Artem, who had a look of understanding in his eyes. You had a sudden urge to strangle your boyfriend.
Marius Von Hagen was a dead man walking.You thought. You hoped the other three people in the room wouldn’t catch on. You smile at them, acting as innocently as you could. The corners of your mouth twitched with a nervous tick that wouldn’t go away.
It was Luke who broke the silence first.
“Well,” He says with a smug smile. Something in the way he said it made you chuckle nervously. “What do you think about that Lily?”
“Are you implying something, Luke?”
At your answer, Rosa gets up, also giving you a bright smile. The junior attorney starts walking towards you as you back away slowly.
Rosa’s smile was sugary sweet as she called out your name. Does Rosa know how scary she can be? You fight a chill that slowly climbs over your back.
“Yes jie jie?” You try to laugh, but it comes out as more of a nervous cackle.
“Something you want to share with the class?”
“Ahahaha, I don’t know what you mean…” Eventually, your back hits the wall as Luke and Rosa continue their relentless approach.
“Funny, I seem to recall a certain someone using ASL a couple of weeks ago to talk to a certain someone.” Vyn pipes up from behind Luke and Rosa, pushing his glass up using his knuckles.
You stiffen, remembering that day and what kind of conversation you had with Marius.
Oh.
Oh no.
“…You know ASL?” Maybe a sudden earthquake can swallow you whole, you think. A smiling Vyn is sometimes a scary Vyn. And now was no exception.
Vyn signed the answer for her.
What. Do. You. Think?
That was enough to mortify you into silence. Rosa laughs, patting you on the back.
“If it helps, we’ve all known for quite some time.”
“What?!” You can’t help but screech. Can this day get any worse?
“You two weren’t exactly being subtle.” You wanted to wash the shiteating grin off of Luke’s face. The secret agent was ready to tease youinto oblivion.
“What do you mean?” You groan, “We were so subtle! We didn’t even say anything!”
Artem coughs. “Morse Code.”
“Fan and mask language?” Luke adds.
“You all figured it out like that?” Rosa laughs. “I didn’t even need to know any of that. I just happened to see your phone when you went to the bathroom.”
You groan, burying your face in your hands.
Fuck her life. And fuck Marius von Hagen for convincing her that there was no way their older, smarter teammates wouldn’t notice. You couldn’t wait till he got back from his schedule. You were going to break up with him because of sheer mortification.
Marius comes back to the NXX safehouse after the show, sighing as he loosened his tie and opened the door using his fingerprint. The interview after his little stunt had stirred the conversation in the direction he needed it to go to. He’s gotten the information they needed from the producer. A good day's work, all in all, he thought to himself, as he opened his eyes and surveyed the room.
He calls out to his girlfriend with a smile, ready to bug the daylights out of her. His little stunt earlier at the show had been unplanned, but he was fairly confident none of the NXX would catch on. There were a million people with flowers as their names and even more that could’ve been connected to the Von Hagens. Marius walks into the room, stopping when he sees five heads of his teammates all staring at him with varying emotions.
Rosa was smiling at him, like the cat that got the cream. Next to her, Luke was also grinning, holding your phone high up in the air, away from her grasp. Said girlfriend of Marius had been mid-jump as she made a poor attempt of trying to retrieve her phone, face flushed.
At the sight of Marius, the girl glared openly, which would’ve been threatening if the girl hadn’t been twenty different shades of red.
A little farther away sat Artem and Vyn who watched the other three. Vyn raised an eyebrow at him while Artem only shook his head. Now that he had gotten here, Rosa and Luke would no doubt heighten their teasing.
“If it isn’t Mr. Hyperia himself.” Luke grins, waving your phone in his hands. Marius walks forward, grabbing your phone for you.
“What on earth do you mean?” Marius lies as easily as he breathes. Rosa only smiled at the stubbornness of the youngest NXX member. Mimicking the ASL he did earlier, she raises an eyebrow.
“They know.” you sigh, taking your phone from Marius. It was Marius’ turn to be surprised.
“Knew,” Rosa corrected her, “for a couple of weeks, actually. We just weren’t sure if you two were just dropping us hints, hoping we’d pick up on it, or actually hiding your relationship.”
“Spill, von Hagen. How long have you been corrupting our dear Lily?” Luke asks, smug grin still intact.
“Why did you have to word it that way?” You frown, pushing Luke by the shoulders. “That just sounds…wrong.”
“Did you really think we didn’t know ASL, morse code, or any of the other niche codes you’ve been using?” Vyn asks, raising an eyebrow in judgment. “We are an investigation team, you know.”
Marius was taking a moment to process all of this, but he only let out a loud laugh. Grinning, he swept you up in his arms, nuzzling your neck as he caged you in a hug.
“Oh, thank god,” He says, fully burying his face in his girlfriend’s arms, much to her embarrassment.
“At least now we won’t have to hide our relationship.”
What sucks about being an artist is that often times, there was no one in her life that had a schedule that aligned with hers.
Or was there?
In a rare bout of writer's block, Melisande finds herself stuck for the first time in her artist career.
Rafayel just so happens to be free, and he seems pretty insistent on hanging around Melisande for a reason.
So why not have an impromptu trip with a certain purple-haired artist?
Part of the Sea et Sand series.
Highly recommend these songs as you read:
An Art Gallery Could Never Be as Unique As You by mrld
Habang Buhay by Zack Tabudlo
Sea et Sand now has a spotify playlist! Listen to it here
-----------------
Melisande's dreams were beginning to freak her out.
Usually, they would end in a bout of blood or the feeling of cold death or strangulation… really, just about any horrible way to die under the sun. Odds are, the more gruesome the death, she’s probably relived it in her dreams at some point (her therapist has a hefty notebook solely for her dreams),
Recently, though, a turn in her dreams had her waking up…well-rested. A full six hours. She'd even slept past her alarm once, only waking up when Garnet barged in and found her feet up and hair messy, still blissfully asleep.
She wasn't sure which unnerved her more-- the sweet arrival of a full night’s rest or the nightmares. The shift had been noticeable to others as well. Her eyebags lightening up a shade, her energy less drained, and her headaches less painful. Even her fans had noticed when she started posting on social media more often. Her makeup artist practically jumped for joy and nearly kissed the floor in celebration, but Melisande was hesitant to welcome the change. There had to have been some sort of caveat, a proverbial shoe that would drop, and she’d be tossed right back into her nightmares once more.
But nothing had happened so far.
Until the caveat did come. In the form of the empty notebook in front of her.
Apparently being awake for less hours had also sapped the creativity right out of her bones. She hadn’t been able to write anything in weeks and it was driving her insane. The music program sat open on her laptop, empty. Around her, pieces of crumpled-up paper and cups of coffee littered her usually clean music studio.
Her inspiration was gone. Zero. Zilch. Nada.
“Still nothing?” Garnet asked, entering through the soundproof door with snacks in tow. Melisande shakes her head, groaning as she knocks her head back on the couch, frustrated.
“It’s like all the damn inspiration’s just gone, Garn.”
“In all the years I’ve been your manager, this is a first.” Garnet whistles low as she clears a space for the food, pushing away wads of paper and food wrappers until there was enough space to put down the hearty beef noodle soup she knew Melisande loved. “How about you go hang out with some friends?”
“Everyone is busy.” Melisande replies, thinking back to the texts she had thrown Hunter and the others. Hunter was a busy deepspace hunter, and her other musical friends had their own schedules to fulfill and their own songs to write. One thing about being an artist was that it was almost impossible for schedules to align in your favor, and Melisande wasn’t even doing that many TV show filmings! She shuddered to think what the schedule of other artists looked like. The girl group she’d gotten to know last month seemed thin and drained in their makeup trailer at that one show.
“You can always call a friend to see if they’re free.”
“Trying to get rid of me that quickly, Garnet?” Melisande lets out an amused smile, eyeing her manager, who pushes her playfully.
"You're no help to me just sitting around here." She replies, "And you refuse to be in any TV shows, or radio shows, or podcast, or influencer show--"
"Still do.” Melisande cuts her manager off-- it was tradition for her to stay away from the variety entertainment shows when she was in the middle of making a new album. “I get it, I get it... I’ll find some way to pass the time productively at least."
She gave up on staring at the music program, shutting it down, and closing the laptop to devour the soup.
She and Garnet eat in silence for a couple of minutes, occasionally talking about the more mundane things, like how Garnet’s wife and their cat were doing. In the middle of an amusing tale about Garnet and her wife watching a dark-haired man at a cat café unintentionally scare away all the cats, Melisande’s phone pings.
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🎨 Rafayel (9:25 AM)
so likeeeee, i know you’re usually asleep at this hour but i have a feeling you’d be awake
Melisande (9:25 AM)
i actually would be asleep usually, buuuut
been having a bout of waking up early
why’d u ask?
🎨 Rafayel (9:26 AM)
nice
thomas is bothering me to go to an exhibit
for inspiration
wanna come wid
Melisande (9:26 AM)
why
🎨 Rafayel (9:26 AM)
for inspiration duh
a little fishie told me u were having some trouble
Melisande (9:27 AM)
Garnet is a snitch
remind me to dodge that one variety show I was planning to say yes to
🎨 Rafayel (9:27 AM)
lol
wasn’t garnet
buuut like, if u really dun wanna do the show, i can remind u
Melisande (9:27 AM)
…it’s Hunter then
🎨 Rafayel (9:28 AM)
ding ding ding
we have a winner
the prize is free dinner
soooo u coming?
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
Melisande lets out a laugh, prompting Garnet to raise an eyebrow.
“Another funny cat video?” Garnet asks, nodding to her phone.
“More like a funny fish.” Melisande smiles as she types out a reply. Garnet says nothing but takes a long sip of her tea.
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
Melisande (9:29 AM)
yes
but u’ll have to tell me a little more about the thing
🎨 Rafayel (9:28 AM)
just send ur location cutie, i’ll pick u up
it’ll be like im ur bodyguard for the day
Melisande (9:29 AM)
Can u even fight?
Ur like three sticks long
🎨 Rafayel (9:28 AM)
puh-lease
i can fight
just for that im adding an arcade to our itinerary
see u in 30 mins
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
After sending out her location, Rafayel replies with a fish emoji, and she looks up at Garnet.
“Well, the good news is I have something to do today," she announces, pocketing her phone and finishing the rest of the soup.
“Someone’s actually free?”
“Rafayel is, so we’re going to an art exhibition.”
“Huh.” Garnet pauses to think, “You know, with how disastrous that first meeting was, the two of you have been getting along pretty well.”
Melisande thinks back to the disastrous first meeting they’d had with the artist and had to agree.
“He’s surprisingly easy to get along with,” Melisande admits.
And it was true. First impressions aside, the two of them had been texting on and off, with Rafayel sending in random photos that made her laugh. Once, he’d sent a photo of someone’s toupee flying off their head that had gotten Melisande in trouble for cackling during a meeting.
Rafayel was also surprisingly very introspective, occasionally surprising Melisande with the odd text, quote, or a link to a video he thought might interest the girl. At Melisande’s request he even started sending her random photos of the ocean throughout the day, which Melisande loved.
The shots he sent were always so pretty and well-lit, with the angle thought out and everything. Her favorite had been one at dusk, where the pink and orange colored sky and the setting sun met the water. He had taken the photo at the exact time when a fish was jumping out of the water. She’d told him she made it her phone background.
After eating, she’d set about fixing her makeup. Her clothes were casual enough, but any public appearance was going to attract the attention of the public and, more annoying, the paparazzi. Considering they were both pretty well-known figures in their fields, there was bound to be at least a couple of articles written about the two of them and their interaction in public. While Garnet pretty much let her do whatever she wanted as long as it wouldn’t cause the company any grief. Her manager’s only request was that she look somewhat put together whenever she went outside on the off chance she would (inevitably) be spotted.
After Melisande was done, she started fixing up her studio as Garnet left to sort out some emails and show offers she’d gotten. If there was going to be no songwriting done, she might as well tidy up the space a little.
Sand Studios was her cozy little nook in the company, decorated in various shades of blue and pink and stocked with all the equipment she could ever need to create music. A small recording booth lie in the corner for making demos, little knick-knacks were scattered here and there, and comfortable chairs set up for when she had people over. She made a mental note to look around the paintings in the exhibition for something that might potentially fill up one of her empty walls. She'd been looking for the right painting to no avail. Maybe today was finally the day.
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
Melisande was not poor by any means.
In fact, thanks to her music and her tours, she was pretty well-off. It doesn’t mean she was expecting Rafayel to come pick her up in a shiny sports car. The man in question was casually leaning against the door of the car, tapping away on his phone.
After picking up her jaw from the floor, she walked closer, stopping directly in front of him.
Rafayel was dressed immaculately, in an asymmetrical white long sleeve that probably cost five figures, loose black dress pants, and shoes. God, he looked good. How can he look good without trying? It was almost unfair to the rest of the modeling world (or maybe a relief) that this man was a painter.
He gives her a small smile and waves his hand, stuffing his phone into his pocket before pushing off the car to stand up properly.
“Took you long enough.”
“You came in a sports car?” Melisande couldn’t help blurting out, still eyeing the expensive car that Rafayel was treating haphazardly.
“I like to arrive in style.” Rafayel shrugs with a smile. “Plus, it’s not like this is the only one I have.”
Oh.
He was rich rich.
Melisande didn’t quite know what to do with that information. Rafayel places a hand on her shoulder, nudging her along.
“Your ride awaits, milady. Thomas is going to hang me up by my feet if I’m late to another exhibition again”
Melisande laughs at that, letting Rafayel guide her by the shoulders as he opens the door.
The inside of the car was as impressive as the outside. It was clean but decorated with little interesting knickknacks that screamed Rafayel. From the little dangling pearl accessory on the steering wheel, the stocked snack compartment filled with savory and sweet snacks, and a couple of pairs of sunglasses in the overhead visor (likely designer). Rafayel paints a pretty picture himself, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other fiddling with the digital dashboard. A holographic map appears and beeps as he looks at her.
“You done snooping, Snoopy?” he asks, amused. Melisande attempts to smack him in the arm but Rafayel only dodges before noticing something. He leans closer, holding onto the headrest of Melisande’s seat. She ignores the rush of heat to her face as she leans into the seat, letting Rafayel strap her in properly. Hearing the click of the seatbelt, Rafayel nods, satisfied, and sits back into his seat.
Melisande has to restart her brain for a couple of seconds, but she coughs. What was she supposed to be doing again? Right. Snoopy—No, Snooping.
“I was not snooping!” She replies, adjusting the strap of the seatbelt so it fell comfortably on her shoulders.
“I’m not stingy, go ahead and grab some snacks if you want.” Rafayel says as he begins their drive.
“How far away is the studio exhibit anyway? You didn’t really give me any details or time to prepare. I feel a tad bit underdressed, you know.” She gestures to the dress shirt Rafayel was wearing. He waves her off, glancing at the singer’s casual outfit.
“Not that far, and plus you look fine, nice even.” He says, his eyes on the road.
The rest of the car ride is relatively less chaotic, casual banter filling in the spaces of silence and the low hum of Rafayel’s playlist in the background. Melisande found herself looking out the window, softly singing along to some of them, recognizing them at the first few beats as her favorites as well.
As time passed, the more it seemed the two of them had a lot in common. Talking with Rafayel much like Rafayel himself--fun, easy, but suddenly dips into introspective thinking and deep philosophies. Maybe it was how the minds of artists worked, unable to separate the mundane and the grand, inevitably connecting everyday things into a grander scheme that was bigger than life itself. She was like that. Rafayel was like that.
But of course, this was Rafayel, and Melisande was quickly learning to expect the unexpected when she was with him. Even with that disclaimer, she was still surprised when Rafayel pulled to a stop in front of an arcade.
“Wasn’t Thomas gonna kill you if you didn’t go to the exhibit?” She asks as they exit the car and enter the noisy arcade. Rafayel goes up to the coin machine and taps his card, practiced hands typing in a number and looking at her as coins clinked down the chute. The arcade was filled with noise but it was relatively empty. There were only a few people milling about, all engrossed in their own games to care. To her relief, either none of them recognized her or they didn’t care enough to approach her.
“Weeell, a certain someone was insinuating I can’t fight, so I gotta prove her wrong.” Rafayel smiles, his eyes twinkling in mischief as he collects the coins in his hands before tugging her along. “Plus, it’s my exhibition. We’ll just be arriving fashionably late. Now c’mon, Sand.”
Rafayel tugs her to a corner of the arcade where a boxing game machine was tucked away. Melisande shook her head, amused that the man would go this far to prove a point, but she dutifully held out her hands when he asked her to, the coins making a pleasant clinking sound as they were deposited onto her waiting fingers.
“If you hurt your wrist, I’m not bandaging you.” She grins as Rafayel pouts, folding his dress shirt up to his elbows. She ignores the small voice in her head that’s telling her to stare at his forearms, instead focusing on the machine as it lowers the circular punching bag.
Rafayel frames his hands into an L-shape making a frame and angling it towards the punching bag before flexing his wrists.
BAM!
The punch was louder and faster than Melisande had given him credit for, her jaw dropping as Rafayel leans back on his heels, smirking down at her like the cat that got the cream.
She has to physically gulp as she stares at the numbers as it kept going up.
That had no right to be as attractive as that had been.
“Fish got your tongue, Mellie?” Rafayel chuckles as the numbers finally stop at a casual 836.
Melisande coughs, blinking back into reality.
“There’s no way—”
“Yes way,” Rafayel argues.
“How on earth—”
“Consider this, my honor restored,” Rafayel grins, as he takes half of the tokens back. “Now, where do we spend the rest?”
After getting over her shock at Rafayel’s apparent hidden athleticism, the answer to his question was apparently the claw machine.
Rafayel, she soon found out, was relentless at the claw machine. She practically had to pull at his forearm and jump him before he agreed to give her a turn. Which really wasn’t helped by the fact that she was pretty competitive too.
“Let me try, you hog!” She says, grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him. The shaking barely did anything, but apparently her words resonated because Rafayel finally turned around, looking offended.
“Excuse you, I’m a fish, not a pig. And you’re a stingy human.” He sighs dramatically but finally, relents, moving over to give her a turn. “But since I’m a kind, wish-granting fish, I’ll let you.”
“Thank you, oh dear god of the sea,” Melisande grumbles, grabbing the machine’s joystick.
She was too focused zeroing in on the plushie they’ve been trying to get—a cute little pouting yellow chick with a beret and a paintbrush—that she doesn’t see the light die a little from Rafayel’s eyes.
It takes Melisande a few tries, but she jumps in excitement when the claw mercifully, finally, grabs the plushie. Her heart rate picking up as it slowly carries over to the chute. When it drops, she can’t help the blinding grin that takes over her face, a quick whispered Yes! leaving her mouth as she picks it up and whips around to find Rafayel watching her in amusement.
The words die in her throat as her breath catches. The look he was giving her was criminal. He was leaning on one side, arms crossed, eyes scrunched a little, sparkling in amusement, and mouth fixed in a little smile as he continued staring.
Being in near vicinity of Rafayel was dangerous for her heart. Rafayel squeezes the chick’s little beak and pats Melisande’s shoulder.
“It’s cute. Good job.” He smiles. “Finders keepers, it’s yours now, so you gotta give it a name.”
“Mochi.” Melisande replied immediately. “For Mo Art studios, to honor the person who spent Chi, five whole swipes of his card just to get one plush.” Rafayel frowns.
“I let you play once, and you get a big head.” He complains. “My wallet is a couple pounds lighter because of this plushie, you know?”
“Who came to fetch me in a sports car again?” Melisande asks, tucking the plush toy safely in her arms. “Plus it’s not Mochi’s fault his benefactor sucks at playing crane games.”
Rafayel was about to reply but was stopped by his phone ringing. A quick glance at his screen showed Thomas’ contact number.
“aaand that’s our sign to make a run for it.” Rafayel says, grabbing Melisande’s hand and rushing outside. She’d gotten a glance at the clock on Rafayel’s phone and startled. Had two hours really passed by that quickly? She felt like barely fifteen minutes passed.
“Two hours already?” she asks, eyes wide, jumping into the passenger seat as Rafayel opens the car, quickly strapping her in before he drives off.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Was Rafayel’s reply.
“Who says I was having fun?” Melisande grins back. But it was an empty threat. She’d had tons of fun. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been to an arcade. Rafayel rolled his eyes, as he set up the car speakers as he drove.
“The plushie in your hand begs to differ, Sand.”
“We only got one though, Mochi’s gonna need a friend.”
“Same time next week?” Rafayel smiles at her through the mirror, and she has to fight the heat that rushes to her cheeks.
“You’re on.”
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
The museum turned out to be only a quick ten-minute ride away from the arcade. It might’ve been helped by the fact that they were riding one of the fastest cars on the market, but hey, who was Melisande to complain? She only ever got rides in artist vans and SUVs with blackout mirrors, the sports car was shiny and new. Rafayel stops the car right at the entrance of one of Linkon City’s most prestigious museums. The marble stairs and column, the pristine red carpet, and the small horde of paparazzi that hadn’t secured media badges instantly told Melisande that Rafayel had severely undersold the event.
“No dress code my foot, Rafayel, this is a black-tie event!” She hisses as Rafayel pulls to a stop near the entrance. The photographers waiting by the sides of the entrance perk up at his arrival.
“You look fine” Rafayel says nonchalantly as he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt. “Amazing, even. Besides, you’re my invited guest. I don’t think they can say anything about you without it offending me.”
“You say that because you look immaculate.” Melisande groans. Rafayel unbuckles her seatbelt, laughing.
“It’ll be fine. You look nice. Plus, did you forget? You’re literally a famous artist too. They’re going to be ecstatic that you’re here, I think you’ll get even more attention than me.”
“Wanna bet on that?”
“Dinner for two days.” Rafayel challenges. They shake their hands, each fully believing they’ll win the bet. Rafayel exits the car first, and the press, who had been waiting for whoever it was to exit, immediately jump the gun seeing the man of the hour. Thankfully, the inside of Rafayel’s car was tinted, Melisande thought as she sees the bright photography flashes go off one after the other. Rafayel only nods to the paparazzi, before making his way around the car. He opens the door to Melisande’s side and the flash becomes even more intense. Melisande puts on her best smile as she steps out, taking Rafayel’s extended arm, fully channeling Melisande the idol. Her posture was straighter, her eyes a little wider and her jaw a little more tense.
“Miss Melisande! What are you doing here tonight?”
“Melisande! When’s the latest album?”
“Melisande, are you going to be working with Rafayel?”
The shouts of the paparazzi filled her ears, a stark difference from the calm she and Rafayel had enjoyed at the arcade. She only waved and smiled, looking apologetic, and letting Rafayel lead her inside of the museum. A man in a tailored suit opens the small gate chain that separated the guests of the exhibition from outsiders.
“Told you.” Rafayel whispers as they slip inside.
“That’s only because they didn’t know I’ll be here, just wait ‘till we get inside, Mr. Painter.”
High white marble columns surround them as they walked, and Melisande was grateful she at least chose to wear something that can pass of as an idol’s version of smart casual that day.
“Run it by me again one more time. This is your exhibition, yeah?” Melisande slowly says.
“Yep.” Rafayel replies like he was just confirming the weather and not headlining an exhibition at one of the city’s most popular museums. Melisande walks slowly, admiring the plethora of artworks along the way. She could practically feel her artistic inspiration recharging and made a mental note to herself.
Rafayel was also an inspiration machine. Just being near the artist had Melisande’s fingers itching and it was as if her earlier mental slumps and creative blocks hadn’t existed before. Something about being in Rafayel’s presence felt comfortable, like supercharging a phone, fast, efficient, and dizzying.
They stop in front of two large wooden doors, Melisande loved the fact that the finishings on the door handles were decorated in intricate metal birds.
“What time we’re you supposed to get here?” Melisande asks, looking up at Rafayel who only smiles innocently.
“8:30 AM.”
“Rafayel.”
“Hm?”
“It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Exactly. We're right on time.” Rafayel smiles as he pushes open the door.
A few eyes notice Rafayel, and the energy of the room quickly kicks into high gear. A crowd of people start making their way towards them. She hears her stage name being whispered as well, and she smiles inwardly, knowing full-well that her name was going to end up once more on another gossip column the next day.
In hindsight, maybe arriving arm-in-arm with the man of the hour wasn’t exactly the best way for her to lay low.
Calling the room they’d just entered a “room” was an understatement, it was more of a massive hall, complete with vaulted ceilings, a chandelier, and floor-to-ceiling windows.
It screamed opulence and royalty.
Melisande was well aware that the life of an idol was one of luxury, but Rafayel just blew that expectation out of the park. The broke artist stereotype clearly did not apply to the man.
True to her predictions, most people crowded over Rafayel, immediately cornering the man and they were quickly separated by the push of the crowd.
Melisande walked over to a small corner, where a handful of people approached her—art enthusiasts, fans, even the odd parent who had a child that was a fan of her. She took her time with each, making sure to make small conversation.
The question of the hour had been “What are you doing here” followed closely by “Why did you come with Rafayel?” and of course, the third runner up, “Are you and Rafayel dating?” She quickly denied the last one, explaining that Rafayel had invited her over as a friend for some inspiration hunting, leaving out certain details like the fact that they had been hanging out prior.
When there was a lull in the crowds, she excused herself, keen to look over at the exhibit (the main reason she’d even come here in the first place). She wandered over to a wall, where a few of the bigger paintings were mounted. The fill lighting was a cool shade of blue, blurring the lines of the canvas frames of the painting and the wall, making it look like the ocean itself was coming alive.
Rafayel really was talented.
She slowly walked around a quarter of the hall, taking time to stop and pause in front of each framed artwork and talking to the people who were milling about in front of the paintings.
She stopped in her tracks when she found the one. It was different than the other paintings, which had all been mainly painted in cool tones.
No, this painting was warm, with scattered pinks, orange, and red hues that depicted the sea at Dusk when the line between the sea and the sky was blurred out. A little crab was in the middle of burrowing in the sand, its figure so detailed, it looked like it was going to get buried in the sand for real. She stared in awe. Did Rafayel even put the pieces in this exhibition for sale? She didn’t know, but she was hoping he would. Footsteps approaching made her look up.
Thomas, Rafayel’s manager, looked as stressed as he had been when they had first met.
“Thomas,” she greets him with a smile and a nod. “The paintings are amazing. I know we toured the studio, but there wasn’t really a lot of Rafayel’s finished work there. These are really good, it must’ve taken ages to plan out an exhibit.”
Thomas gives her a tired but grateful smile.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, but I suppose I have you to thank for even getting him within forty feet of the building, so thank you.”
Melisande laughs.
“I take it he usually ditches these kind of events?”
“If he even attends at all.” Thomas shakes his head, “but enough about that, how are you finding the exhibit?”
“I actually want to get this one,” Melisande admits, gesturing to the painting in front of her. “I’ve been looking for something for one of the walls of my studio for so long, and this is perfect.”
Thomas smiles.
“Say less, I’ll reserve it for you and let Rafayel know. You’ll get an email from me after the exhibit.”
Melisande’s grin widens.
“You’re a lifesaver, Thomas. I’ll try to mention it to Rafayel. If I ever catch him from his gaggle of people.”
She looks back at the painting, admiring the way the colors blended into each other.
"Why did you decide to suddenly hold an exhibit of Rafayel's work today?" Melisande asks Thomas as they eye Rafayel who was surrounded by a different crowd of people than the ones earlier. If Rafayel’s smile was anything to go by, these were his friends. Thomas tilts his head, confused at the question.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, it just seems weird to suddenly host an exhibition for only one day, don't you think?"
Thomas looks at her then back at Rafayel, who was mingling with the crowd, trying to respond to the barrage of people that had surrounded him. He hadn't seen the two of them just yet.
“He didn’t tell you.” His question comes out more like a statement as his eyes narrow. Melisande only raises an eyebrow.
"Of course he didn't tell you." Thomas sighs, looking like he aged five years and had a migraine coming at the realization that he’d gotten. Melisande tilts her head, egging him to continue.
The crowd around Rafayel was grinning from ear to ear, holding intricate bags and well-decorated presents.
Wait, presents? The words that come out of Thomas' mouth make Melisande freeze.
"It's Rafayel's birthday today. This is his birthday exhibition.”
𓇼 ˚𓆝｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ⋆
When the crowds around Rafayel thin a little, Melisande marches up to Rafayel, head spitting out a million thoughts per second. Rafayel spots her approaching and waves but falters when he sees her face. She grabs him by the sleeve, smiling and telling the people around him she and Rafayel were going to have a chat. At the amused laughter that rings from the crowd, she starts pulling him away. They stop in front of the painting Melisande loved and Rafayel looks confused when he asks the question.
"What's wrong?"
"It's your birthday? Why didn't you tell me?" Melisande practically hisses. Rafayel looks amused when he realizes what this was all about.
“Thomas told you?”
“I had to learn from him---” Melisande groans. “We played at the arcade for two hours, Rafayel.”
“And I had fun.”
“Still,” Melisande looks at him, and then the painting. “People here were waiting for you since morning.” Rafayel looked like he was on the verge of pouting again, brows starting to furrow. Someone really needed to tell him to reign those eyes in, that look can start and end wars, if he looked at world leaders the correct way.
“Birthday boy rules, I do what I want.”
“If I’d known, I would’ve gotten you something. I didn’t get you a gift.” Melisande groaned. Rafayel shrugs.
“It’s not really that important, y’know. Thomas was the one who insisted on the exhibition. I spent the day with you because that's what I wanted to. Then we came here.” Melisande thought back to the arcade, the noise, the scrunch in Rafayel’s brows as he concentrated on the claw machine, his smug smile when he’d won at the fighting games. He did look like he had fun. It felt even more surprising that they didn’t get spotted together at the arcade. The press would’ve had a field day thinking they were on a date.
“How about we get joint custody of Mochi?” Melisande suggests.
“I get a plush child for a present?” Rafayel smiles, looking even more amused than usual. “I didn’t realize I’d be a father for my birthday. The gift of life, huh.” Melisande groans, covering his mouth with her hand.
“Shhg! It’s a plush! If anyone hears you out of context, we’re dead.” Rafayel responds by licking her hand. Melisande yanks it back before laughing.
“You are disgusting,” she retaliates by cleaning her hand on his dress shirt. Rafayel tries dodging but fails, starting a little chase between the two of them. They weave in and out of paintings and wall displays in a game of chase the painter.
Their game only stops when Hunter (who did NOT tell Melisande anything about this) calls out to the two of them, amused.
“It’s nice to see you two getting along.” Hunter grins at Melisande when they walk up to her. Melisande goes to hug her.
“Please, a certain someone forgot to tell me the reason they invited me to hang out was because it was their birthday. I thought we were just hanging out.” Melisande shakes her head, clinging onto Hunter’s arm.
“I wouldn’t let her cling like that Miss Bodyguard, her hand is contaminated.” Melisande bristles, detaching from Hunter and running back to Rafayel to swat at his shoulder.
“And whose fault is that?!” They’re cut off from bickering by Hunter laughing, the two of them looking at the Deepspace Hunter.
“Like I said, it’s nice that you two are getting along.” Hunter smiles.
“It’s nice that you can come, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you said your schedule was busy?” Rafayel asks, changing the subject and poking her left shoulder.
“You said you were busy to me too,” Melisande pouted, following Rafayel’s lead and clinging onto Hunter’s right arm. “Are they making you work too much? Should I file a citizen's complaint to the Hunter’s association?”
“I take back what I said about you two getting along.” Hunter groans, “You two are a menace if you agree on the same goal.”
Hunter takes out a purple gift bag and gives it to Rafayel.
“I just had a bit of time to drop by and give you this. My doctor’s appointment got pushed back because of an emergency surgery.” Melisande perks up at that.
“Zayne has another surgery today? Must be rough.”
“Your mutual friend is a doctor?” Rafayel says.
“We’re all childhood friends,” Hunter explains, pointing to Melisande, “Me, Caleb, Sand, and Zayne have known each other since we were kids. Sand, here was the youngest.”
Rafayel hums, nodding his head at the new information. He was about to say something but is cut off by Thomas who runs up to their little group.
“Rafayel! There you are! Some people are looking for you.” Thomas says, all but dragging Rafayel by the elbow. Melisande and Hunter look in amusement.
It was clear that Thomas was very used to Rafayel’s antics and knew how to deal with the artist. Melisande, feeling mischievous, waves her hand, grinning at Rafayel who was being dragged away.
“I didn’t know Rafayel invited you too, Mel. If I’d known, I would’ve come with you.” Hunter says, ruffling the singer’s hair with a smile.
“That guy just invited me this morning,” Melisande huffs but she can’t help the smile that appears on her face and lowers her voice. “We didn’t go here immediately though, stopped by an arcade for like two hours.”
The grin on Hunter’s face widens.
“Oh? Really now.”
“Don’t you start,” Melisande groans, clinging on to Hunter’s arm. “How long do you have until you have to go?”
“Caleb is picking me up in an hour. Then we’re heading to Akso if Zayne’s surgery finishes early.” Hunter replies as they slowly walk around the exhibit. “And don’t think I don’t notice you changing the topic.”
“Perfect." Melisande smiles, ignoring Hunter’s last sentence. “There’s a painting I want to show you.”
𓇼 ˚𓆝｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ⋆
Hunter nods approvingly when they reach the painting.
“Rafayel’s a really good artist.” She hums, and Melisande finds herself nodding.
“He is. I’m planning on asking him if I can buy this one, when it’s not his birthday of course.” She admits. “His paintings have this… something to them. When Thomas told me he made all of his own paints, my respect for him doubled. He makes art as easily as he breathes, you know? The minute I saw this one, I could barely move on from it... Don’t tell him I said that though.”
When she looks at Hunter, the older girl was already looking at her, impressed.
“You know, you and Rafayel really are similar.” She comments. “How’s the art block going by the way? Sorry I couldn’t really help out.”
Melisande shakes her head.
“No, it’s okay. That’s actually why Rafayel asked me to hang out too. Thanks to him, I actually want to sit and write down some lyrics.”
And it was true. Melisande was itching to write the phrases that had been floating in her head ever since she started wandering Rafayel’s art gallery. Who would’ve thought the solution to art block was to look at someone else’s art?
Rafayel’s passion showed in every corner of his paintings. It practically spilled out of the canvas, much like the exhibit. He pulls it off like it was no big deal, but Melisande was no stranger to the physical and emotional labor it took to make anything art-related. She was sure that the man had actually spilt blood, sweat, and tears for his art. She was familiar.
After all, without their art, who were they really as individuals?
At that thought, she gets an idea and straightens up, smiling at Hunter.
“What?”
“Thanks to you, I might just have an idea.”
𓇼 ˚𓆝｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ⋆
Later that night, Melisande’s social media blows up as she posts a new song without any warning. She leans back on her bed in satisfaction, her back popping. She had never made a song that quickly in her whole career. Once she had the lyrics, the melody of the song just flowed from her fingertips.
It was a simple one, mainly some simple guitar, piano, and her voice, but it got what she had been feeling out of her system.
Her fascination with Rafayel and his art.
Her appreciation for his paintings and the way people had celebrated him in the exhibition hall.
It was her little love song to the artists behind their art, who put so much of themselves in their work that they forget they deserve to be celebrated and loved too.
Artists, who were also a work of art in and of themselves.
She sent Rafayel a link to the song the moment it uploaded with the caption: happy birthday, you goof.
She didn’t want to see his reaction just yet so when she saw the three dots that meant Rafayel was typing something, she set her phone on silent, placed it onto her wireless charging dock and promptly fell asleep. No nightmare still hounded her but Melisande welcomed the fatigue that overtook her that night.
It only took her four hours to make and upload the song (complete with a simple lyric video) to her socials. In the description of the video, she kept it short and sweet:
To Artists and their Art. May you realize that you are as enchanting as the art you make.
Apparently, that was enough to blow up the internet at 11 in the evening. But Melisande was blissfully unaware, caught in her much-needed dreamless sleep.
𓇼 ˚𓆝｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ⋆
🎨 Rafayel (11:11 PM)
???
is this my bday present?
awwwww
its so nice
u didn’t have to
ur fans are freaking out btw
𓇼 ˚𓆝｡𓆟 ⋆BONUS｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ⋆
Brushstrokes & Ballads: A Romantic Rendezvous Between the Artist Rafayel and Melisande? by Natalie Morgan / The Inside Snoop
The art and music worlds are absolutely buzzing as celebrated artist Rafayel and hit idol-songwriter Melisande were spotted together at the artist's latest exhibit. The exhibition in question was none other than Rafayel’s birthday exhibition courtesy of Mo Art Studios. The duo, known in their respective fields of art, arrived at the exhibition in style in the artist's Spyder 918 sports car—one of the rarely spotted cars in Rafayel’s collection.
The two seemed to be having a good time as they waltzed through the gallery together, engaging in lively conversation like the rest of the crowd wasn't there. Onlookers report sparks flying between the two, leaving fans speculating a potential hidden relationship between the two.
Melisande, who recently concluded a sold-out tour of her most recent album, Tides' Trials, was spotted talking and joking around with Rafayel's manager, Thomas, igniting rumor fires of a possible collaboration between the two artists.
This marks the pair's first public appearance together, leaving fans speculating if a collaboration is in the works or if this gallery visit marks the start of a blossoming romance. With Rafayel's most recent art exhibit, Flux, just opening and Melisande gearing up for a new album release, fans are eagerly awaiting what might come next for this talented and dynamic duo. Whether this potential romantic interlude will inspire a collaborative masterpiece or simply remain a beautiful chapter in their lives, only time will tell.
𓇼 ˚𓆝｡𓆟BONUS 2 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ⋆
Melisande Shocks Fans with Midnight Melody By FuzzBeed
Chaos erupted in the music world as enigmatic idol-songwriter Melisande pulled the ultimate power move by releasing a song out of nowhere 11PM last night. Known for her poetic lyrics and ethereal sound, Melisande jolted fans and critics alike on their toes with this unannounced release—breaking her usual pattern of cryptic teases and countdowns.
The song, An Art Gallery Could Never Be As Unique As You (still trending globally as #MelisandeAtMidnight) was posted on the singer’s YouTube channel, sparking an immediate social media frenzy. Fans flooded timelines with sleepless excitement, showering their timelines with declarations of love and frantic lyric breakdowns.
Is Melisande simply embracing the unpredictability she’s become iconic for?
Love her, envy her, or admire her brilliance—one thing’s certain: Melisande knows how to keep her audience on their toes.
𓇼 ˚𓆝｡𓆟 BONUS 3⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ⋆
@EchoesMissingButton: The melody of ‘An Art Gallery Could Never Be As Unique As You’ is like a brushstroke on my soul. This is auditory art, y’all. #MelisandeatMidnight
@VelvetPetals: WHAT IF the gallery is a metaphor for her fans, the Melifleurs?! She’s literally telling us we’re uniquely beautiful and irreplaceable. I’M NOT OKAY. 😭🌺
@CanvasOfFeels replied to @VelvetPetals: Did you see the caption?? I bet this song is about an artist she admired. Maybe they made her realize that art is nothing without love? QUEEN GAVE US A LATE NIGHT SNACK, WE EATING GOOD TONIGHT🎨❤️ #MelisandeatMidnight
@PajamaPartyAntics: My roommate said I’m more unique than an art gallery after listening to Melisande’s new track, and now we’re crying. Melisande strikes again. #MelisandeAtMidnight
@SandyConspiracies4: Theory: Melisande actually owns an art gallery and we’re all being inducted as living exhibits with this song. Change my mind.
@MeliFleurForever Replied to @SandyConspiracies4: no but hear me out, she was visiting an art gallery earlier today with Rafayel. Methinks it was inspired by a certain artist specifically.👀
@DeepspaceD3V Replied to @MeliFleurForever: It’s rude to assume her love life. Do you even consider yourself a fan if you don’t respect her privacy?
@MeliFleurForever Replied to @DeepspaceD3V: she visited an art gallery. She drops a song ABOUT AN ART GALLERY. how much more obvious should she get
@Melisande✔️: An Art Gallery Could Never Be As Unique As You (lyric video)
@Rafayel ✔️ retweeted @Melisande✔️'s tweet: time to paint.
it hurts to be something, its worse to be nothing with you.
There was a fire in her eyes that was familiar and new.
Hello, love. His heart sang. How I’ve missed you.
chapter 2 of My timeless blue light from Rafayel's POV
(title from the song Promise by Laufey)
For Rafayel, the passing of time was all at once too slow and too fast. He was stuck between pretending he never counted the times in between when he last saw Her (800 years, 2 months, and 6 days) or knowing just how long it had been since he’d last seen his beloved.
Unlike other Lemurians, whose fate was to die with the Sea, Rafayel was stuck in an endless reincarnation cycle. To die and be born again.
‘Tis the fate of the one who held the title of the God of the Sea who does not have his Heart. There had been other previous Gods of the Sea (and it hadn’t even been limited to males either—Lemuria had its fair share of recorded Goddesses of the Sea, all recorded in the tome), and they’d all met their timely end. Only Rafayel has held the title for more than 300 years.
He kept an eye on her, which was relatively easy since she had chosen to become a public figure in this lifetime. Their worlds were as close as ever, like tangents almost meeting, but not. Orbiting around each other and being aware of their presence but never fully interacting.
He watched as she rose to fame and became a household name. Rafayel kept watching even when she got caught in the rare scandal, or had suffered through injuries. In this lifetime, his beloved, Melisande, was a lover, an artist-- a dreamer.
And that made Rafayel fall for her all the more. After all, Lemuria was a city of song, art, and romance. And she was everything that his beloved City had stood for.
Lemuria was no more, but she was here, and that was enough. He'd give everything to have both joys at the same time, but even he knew fate would never be that kind to the both of them.
When he had learned that her Evol was water, he couldn’t help but smile at the irony, here he was, the Sea God, whose flames stoked the underwater flames—served as the light for the Deep Sea.
And there she was, his Heart, blessed by the same Waters that had killed her in every lifetime thus far. She had made it her own, making the water bend to her will, and he couldn’t be prouder.
When he met her again, in his own house, surrounded by his art, most of them inspired by memories of her that she didn't remember, it felt like finally, finally, time had started moving.
She looked as beautiful as ever, wandering into his house with a relaxed posture like it was her own, her footsteps as light as ever. The sun from the floor-to-ceiling windows hit her hair and eyes in a way that made her shine like the pearls she’d loved so much. He wasn’t sure what expression was on his face when she stepped into the room, but he hoped his face didn’t betray the rush of emotions he was feeling in his chest.
What he hadn’t been expecting, was for her to cry when they made eye contact.
Rafayel always hated it when she cried. There was nothing quite like feeling powerless at the sight of your beloved’s tears. It didn’t matter that he was a God, a Lemurian, or someone who had a powerful Evol that could bend the whims of water and fire at his command, the sight of her tears always made him feel as weak and powerless as any other human. He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms, and brush the tears away.
This was their first meeting, he reminded himself. He was nothing to her.
Yet.
He was nothing to her yet.
He was determined to change that.
“Is my face really that pretty that it brought you to tears?” The wit and sarcasm that drips from his lips slip out as easily as ever. It’s practiced, practically a second language for him by now. An ever useful guard that protected his true emotions. His heart was right in front of him, and yet he couldn’t bear his soul to her.
“I was crying because I was surprised by how ugly you are—”
Rafayel nearly laughs at her first words. This was his heart--- fiery, sharp, and yet tender all the same. Instead, he schools his features into a small frown, faking offense while knowing nothing she did could ever offend him.
“I’m assuming you’re Melisande.” The familiar nickname slips from Rafayel’s lips easily. It was amusing how, no matter what life she was born into, she would take to using the same nickname. Over many lifetimes, she was his Melisande. His tragic love.
“Please forgive her. She hasn’t gotten enough sleep today.” Someone else, another woman with ruby red hair pushes forward, subtly nudging Melisande. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rafayel.”
“Just call me Rafayel,” He waves them off, turning around to walk back to the living room. They followed him and Rafayel let Thomas usher him into a seat opposite Melisande. While Thomas was busy preparing the contract, he took the opportunity to get a better look at Melisande.
She looked very much like the shining idol Rafayel saw on tv. He wasn’t one for sharing his beloved but seeing her so adored and loved in this lifetime, and knowing that she was loved and cared for by people other than him when he wasn’t yet able to love her, sated a part of his soul. There was a fire in her eyes that was familiar and new at the same time.
Hello, love. His heart sang. How I’ve missed you.
He feels a bitter pang, recalling the tears that had left her eyes moments prior. A part of him had hoped that she had recognized him. That she remembered.
But of course, she didn’t. It was too foolish to hope for her to remember him. Even if he’d waited centuries. He can’t help when his temper flares, snatching the contract from the hands of Thomas and scrawling his signature on the dotted line as fast as he could, avoiding her eyes.
“There. Are we done now?” he quipped.
“Do you get stinging nettle near the beach?” she pipes up, looking not at him but at Thomas, who frowns.
“I don’t think they grow near sand… Why do you ask?”
“Because that’s the only reason I could think of about why your ass won’t sit still.” Melisande smiles and Rafayel can’t help the little jump his heart does at her smile. All these lives and one thing about her that hadn’t changed was her fast mouth. Instead of standing up, he stretches languidly, raising his arms and feeling his back pop. He had painted for who knew how long before they came in, only stopping when he heard Thomas’ voice.
“Always sitting down can stunt growth, y’know. Must be why you’re the size of an amoeba.” He replies easily, picking up a stray paintbrush that was on the table. Their banter came back to him like second nature—as easily as wearing his favorite shoes. This wasn’t how he would normally talk to someone he just met, usually he’d be polite, or even more rude (depending on how much use they could be for him) but she was different.
“One minute you’re crying, and the other you're asking about my ass; I’m more than just my body, you know.” Rafayel couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face as he played with the paintbrush. He lounged back on the couch, thoroughly amused at her semi-horrified face that was quickly reddening.
“Please, I was not looking where you think I was. Get off your high horse, Your Highness.”
His heart jumped again at the nickname, teasing words dying in his throat. He couldn’t help the ache he felt at the familiarity she’d uttered the words. Did she remember? Did she not? He searched her expression, feeling a sick satisfaction when it faltered. Was it okay to feel happy to be remembered when the memories of their past lives were less than pleasant?
Less than pleasant was oversimplifying it. They were tragic. If the Lemurians had known their tale, they would be forever immortalized in Sonnets of Tragedy.
She pauses, brow furrowing, like she was confused of the words that had left her own mouth.
Some part of her did remember. He realized as he saw her crestfallen face. The urge to tell her everything skyrockets and he has to take a deep breathe to avoid feeling dizzy.
He decides to change the subject, maybe jog her memory with some things he kept around the house.
He stands up, shaking her from her memories.
“You wanted to talk about art, yeah?”
“I--yes?”
That was all he needed to haul her up, holding her by her wrists and tugging her away from her manager and Thomas. Had he still not gotten her manager’s name? Maybe. But there were more important things to deal with right now.
“Thomas can take care of all the other details.”
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
He brings her to the next room, where he knew he had hidden some of his previous life’s possessions. He shows her the glass bottle she had used when she'd become the sea witch, the same one that she had used to turn Rafayel human back then. He handed her the glass bottle but promptly put it back when she swayed and got dizzy.
“You okay?” he had asked, catching her by the shoulder when she swayed. She looked a little nauseous before deciding to drop the topic.
Of course. Their memories only brought her pain. He was going to stop trying. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her more than he already had.
“I’m good, just…. The bottle is pretty, I’m just a little dizzy.” She replies, clutching her forehead, her expression slightly pained.
“Let’s stop looking around then.” Rafayel decides, leading her away from the room and moving towards the balcony. She follows after him but stops just shy of exiting the door. He follows her eyeline to a small keychain on a corner table. The round, red pufferfish had been a gift from Hunter after he had helped her out with the Raymond case.
“You can hold it, you know.” He says, striding over and depositing the small keychain onto her hands.
“It’s grumpy, like you.” She smiled, holding up the keychain.
“It’s round, like you.” Rafayel copies, smirking and dancing out of the way when the girl’s hand rushes forward to smack his shoulder.
Rafayel laughs, leading her onto the balcony that served as a shortcut to the gardens. A small spiraling staircase would lead them straight down.
Melisande looked over the balcony, eyeing the sunset in content before she looked at him again. This time, her eyes were focused, as if determined to get an answer from him. A part of Rafayel hoped it was the question he’d been waiting to hear but the question that left her mouth, has his heart sinking.
“I hear you were the one who requested this collaboration. Why?”
Rafayel takes one long look at her before sighing and shaking his head. He can’t help frowning slightly. She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember you, She forgot. She broke her promise.
“You don’t understand anything.” He says, keeping his words as vague as he can. “You’re just a silly girl with bad memories.”
“What?”
“Nevermind. It’s nothing.” He waves his hand, causing a swirl of flames to appear. “I heard your music and wanted to get Thomas off my case. Nothing big.”
Melisande doesn’t look satisfied with the answer he gives, but she doesn’t push. Instead they stand side by side at the balcony, overlooking the ocean as the sky changed from reds and oranges to a dark night.
𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼
When she and her manager left, he couldn’t help the burst of inspiration that took over him at the thrill of being able to see her again. Despite everything, he finds himself smiling. He nearly gives Thomas a heart attack as he grabs his brushes and walks over to the half-finished painting he’d been working on prior.
There will always be a part of him that will only come alive when she’s near him. A part of him that will always chase her radiance or her shadow. In all lifetimes. Through time and space itself, if he had to.
His Heart was in her hands, as it had always belonged to her— and she didn’t even know.
