if reqs are still open is it okay if i request for nursefather yi sang angst where he laments not being able to do anything to save his beloved (cuz of the prescripts thingy) take ur time on rhis btw no need to rush i can wait 200 years for rhis
A/n; I had far too much fun torturing this man, that is all.
Musty air, Gray room.
( Rien!Yisang x reader )
His dress shoes clacked on the tiles below him, Yi sang gazed at the plates loaded within the dishwasher,
Beep
The matching black plates are promptly picked, before sat down on the dinner- one on each side.
Then, as ordered, utensils are put by the plates neatly, perfectly.
Beep
His eyes scan over the prescript, before he handles the steaming pot filled with pasta; he tips the spatula over, adding a decent amount to the other plate.
He glances over to his empty one, it'd stay that way, for the remainder of the day.
The door clicks, the sounds of chain rattling and footsteps accompany it, blonde hair, orange eyes, it peeks out from the door.
The prescript device buzzes, he recites the greeting it gifts him;
"Welcome home. I could only pray the homework bestowed upon us outcasts for today was nothing short of simple."
"Y-Yes, as exactly as the ma- the magick beeper commanded!"
Yi sang gestures for her to enter the corridor further, pointing her towards the table- He sits at the dinner table, placing his fork and knife at the plate, putting the fork in his mouth, mimicking a bite,
"Mm, Master, is- is that the c-command of the Great Magicked beeper?"
The apprentice questions as she watches the rhythmic motions,
He nods, as usual.
She shuffles over to her seat, bringing up her hands to lift her fork- it was often that the apprentice had to awkwardly rotate and tilt her hands in order to adapt to the heavy chains on her wrists.
Of course, some would just resolve to take the chains off, but the all knowing Hermes commanded the chains to be there, who were we to deny that?
The both of them continued to eat, or, well, only Quixote was.
As… As ordered.
Eventually a beep was faintly heard from the inside of his jacket, he lifts it out, the small sleek plastic beeper was held- the cyan glow of the letters was etched and scrambled, his eyes scan over it, eventually- the meaning of it was parsed and sifted.
…
"Grab the knife next to your right hand and stab your daug———"
———————————————————————————————————
The raindrops pattered on the umbrella above, the one he clutched in his callused hand.
The sideway beneath him, the color of it deepened in quick reply to the rain's never ending poking at it.
His eyes glazed over your body laying over a pool, one of crimson, was it your body?
It was far mangled, so much so to where your name would've been Jane doe, a nobody.
A familiar sensation of buzzing is heard within his coat pocket, as he had done so many times, and as he will many times once again, he procures it from his pocket, deciphering the meaning, and then following as it is.
You must've thought his nature was "tainted" the day he joined the index, but that rot, it spans all the way from when the walls of the world he lived in was a pure white.
When his only companion was but a reflection, never to reach out, nevermore changed with the slightest crack.
Those sunrises and sunsets were the ones where he simply let all that was be- Change was undefinitive and staticity was common, only thing that changed was the person of whom commands he carries.
Therein lie your mistake; your belief that the static gaze he holds could be altered, your belief was buried the day your heart was stopped, the same couldn't be said about you.
Perhaps that's what made the two of you slot together so perfectly, you both shared an unmovable inertia, Perhaps, that's why…
—
“The empty husk of a man returns to his home, covered in the blood of strangers.”
The couch below him was anything but one, it felt like it scraped against his skin each time he shifted, such furniture as couches and beds are supposed to be places of haven, respite, solace, certainty never the sources of guilt, certainty never to possess chains to tie you down and to slowly but surely fill him with shame.
The objects in question didn't fulfill their purpose.
His gaze meanders over towards the bags of garbage lying and scattered about the room, the choice for them to be there, it was the order of the…
Oh, you expect this by now don't you? Every breath, every blink, every beat of the heart, is never the property of his volition, only the prescripts, only Hermes.
The city includes all of its children in its will, a truth the index illuminates to all, but perhaps, for once he'd like to grow, for once he'd like to don the title of adult he deserves, to be excluded out of its care. Maybe that says something about him-
Because once a child is born, the care of its parent is etched into it's soul- of course, that only occurs if the parent is any good. Any good.
He closes his eyes; perhaps when he opens them, a new day should begin, a new one.
——————————————————————————————————— Yi sang's eyes reread the prescript once again,
"Grab the knife next to your right hand and grab a peach. Cut it up and feed it to your apprentice."
He gets up, ambling towards the fridge, doing exactly as the prescript asked him to do. The apprentice takes chaste bites, although she seems to take joy in bonding, even if it is all over a prescript.
Yi sang was otherwise, indifferent to it.
How come one could fear losing something they had, but never cherished it in the moment? It was nothing but silly.
Nothing but silly.