Prompt 7 with Malleus? And the reader as the ghost? 😳
Visions of the Past; Malleus Draconia
Content; Gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort, pining left unresolved
Content Warning; Reader death (not heavily described)
Word Count; 700+
Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!
Time heals all wounds. But Malleus knew that wasn’t true. Yes, time may heal physical wounds, although not always perfectly, but it no longer weeps or festers. Whereas emotional wounds, such as trauma, grief, and anger do not fade or heal in the same manner as a cut would.
Malleus was standing outside the entrance of Ramshackle, once his nightly walking grounds turned to the home of the first person that befriended him for him. The first person who didn’t know or care, even after finding out about his identity, that he was the Malleus Draconia. A magicless human who treated him as they did with others, but with a tad bit more ease, humour, and kindness since they were friends.
Were friends.
His heart knew though that you weren’t just friends. He had felt this emotion before to some extent with his passion for gargoyles, but they paled in comparison to you.
Your brightness. Your laugh. Your little mannerisms that most wouldn’t pay attention to, but he did.
“Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re older,” you mused while on one of your nightly walks with Malleus.
Malleus furrowed his brow and looked at you quizzically, “Why wouldn’t we be? I have no intention of not being in your life.”
You had stopped moving forward and Malleus came to a stop beside you. “Well, I don’t know. You’re a prince, future king, and you might get swapped in royal business and duties…” You pursed your lips, an unpleasant taste in your mouth. “And isn’t that more important?”
“Do you not like spending time with me?” Malleus’ voice was more sharp, on edge.
“NO!” You shouted, the word echoing a bit in the quiet night. “I like spending time with you. I love it!”
Malleus looked at you with confusion, and if he were looking at anyone else the way he had been in the past minute, they would have been grovelling, asking for forgiveness. But not you.
“Then why did you bring it up in the first place? Should there not be time, I will simply make it,” he said quietly. A small smile and chuckle replaced the irritated look of moments prior, “I will even make it ‘royal business’ as you put it.”
You cough-laughed at his statement, but you only laughed harder when you looked at him to see a baffled expression.
Malleus chuckled lightly, joining your amusement, even though he didn’t understand what was so funny that had you tearing up.
You let out a long sigh, recollecting yourself. “Well, I’ll be there then, promise.”
And you had held that promise. Despite both of your hectic lives, you both met at least twice a month. If neither of you had the time? Well, Malleus would just show up outside your place, like old times, and you would both go about the property. Sometimes talking away, and other times in silence, just happy to be next to each other again.
Malleus knew he liked you, loved you even — the way he felt more like himself when he was around you, and a tinge of jealousy made that distinction clear — and he was planning on asking you if you felt the same.
But he didn’t have the chance.
He would never have the chance.
He knew that he wouldn’t have many years with you, but he had planned that it was old age that took you away from him.
Ramshackle had not changed, but Malleus could still smell the scent of soot, even after all of these years. The foyer stopped, and Malleus looked into the gloom of the burnt ruins.
“ … do you remember our promise?”
He had been coming here, once a fortnight, asking the same question and hoping for an answer. Every time all he ever received was the sound of rotting wood and the scampering of mice.
He took in a breath and was ready to leave, to go back to his duties, but he stopped.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He couldn’t see you, but you were here. And that was all that mattered to Malleus. That although you may not physically be here anymore, he had not lost you.
Time may heal all wounds, but Malleus didn’t want this wound to heal. He didn’t want to lose you, not again.
. . .
. . .
A/N; Hope you enjoyed what I came up with for this combination! And *hands you an emotional dragon fae that misses you*
𓆩✩𓆪 𝐂𝐖 : nanaba x gn!reader, angst, hurt no comfort/no happy ending, blood, graphic injury & reader death.
Pain. It was the first thing you felt. Hot, suffocating pain shot through your whole body, like a burning fire.
You don't even remember what hit you, a loose branch, the whole tree?! You heard a voice familiar yet distant, desperate and echoing in your ears. Someone was calling your name, but it sounded far away, distorted by the ringing in your ears. You couldn’t move, couldn't breathe as the ringing worsened, overtaking every other sensation, then nothing. Everything was a blur, nothing but the pain to focus on.
You don’t realize how much time has passed, nor do you care. Until you hear it again, closer this time. Your gaze flits around, trying to find its source, the void threatening to take you, but you reject its call once more. When you come to, you find yourself on the forest floor, tasting the grass and mud mixed with the blood on your tongue. You grimaced, spitting out as much as you could, trying to lift your hand to your face, but it didn’t; all you were met with was more blood from the arm that once held it.
That’s when you remembered the horde that ambushed and decimated your squad. A titan knocking a tree down after being slain, and you shoving Nanaba out of the way. The rest eludes you.
You tried again in earnest to get up, hoping she was okay, but you remained pinned to the ground. It was the tree, and it had your lower body under it.
“Cadet! Damnit, where are you?!” Her voice is a lot clearer now. You can hear her boots hitting the wet mud as she continues calling your name, sounding frantic.
You tried to respond, only to cough up blood instead, the metallic taste making you gag as it sprayed against the grass. Squirming was futile, a sob wrenching from your lips as it became clear the fallen tree wasn’t budging, threatening to rip you in half whenever you tried. Nanaba must’ve heard your choked gargles, appearing at your side a ragged breath later. Her hands hover over you for a moment, unsure of what to do, if there’s anything she can even do.
After a few seconds, her hand found your uninjured one, grasping it tightly as she looked at the damage to your lower half, a mangled mess of blood and metal, hardly recognizable. While she tried to think of how to get you out of this and trying to remain composed for your sake she felt something, three weak squeezes of her hand, it was your silent way of saying “I love you” and with that, the dam broke tears now free falling down her cheeks her blue eyes meeting yours that were filled with affection and relief.
You had your head lying on its side just so the last thing you saw would be the woman you loved with everything in you.
“Why? Why would you do that?! Why did you shove me out of the way like that?!” her voice cracking as her grip tightened.
After another coughing fit, you found your voice, “A-Are you… okay? Are you hurt?”
Her eyes widened in disbelief, even while being half-crushed and actively bleeding out, she was your first concern. She had half a mind to throttle you for putting her life before your own, but your selflessness was one of the reasons she fell for you.
She let go of your hand before straining to remove the trunk from your waist. The ground was slick from the rain, gasoline, and blood, so when she pushed, it only led to her slipping and falling into the mud. Not wanting to give up, she got back up and kept trying.
“There’s no point, Nana, it’s not going anywhere and neither am I.” Your voice was barely above a whisper “You need to go. Get out of here while you still can.” The plea made her pause before she shook her head and tried to wedge her blades to hold the weight.
“I’m not leaving you here! I’m not going to just let you die when I ca-”
“Nanaba please, you need to go! There’s no point damn it! My legs are crushed even if I somehow survive. I'll be useless when more Titans show up and I’d get us both killed Please” You interrupted voice a bit louder begging her to listen.
It was getting harder to stay awake. Your head fell limp as you tried to keep your eyes on her while your vision started to fade.
Seeing this Nanaba rushed back over gently shaking your shoulder and begging you to stay awake until help arrived, or at least that’s all you managed to hear as fatigue started to take over and your eyes drifted shut and took you to the darkness once more.
Sharp pain on the side of your face snapped it to the side, wait when were you able to move? Your eyes opened and you saw more than one figure. Looks like the others managed to find the pair of you and helped her pry the tree off of you.
You were being cradled on her lap, one of her hands cupping your cheek, a soft sob of relief escaped her at finally seeing you awake.
“H-Hey, stay with me, okay? Keep those eyes open, focus on me” Her voice cracked in desperation.
You weakly raised your remaining hand to cup her face trying to soothe her as you always did when words became difficult, that only caused more tears to fall as she held it tightly to her face not caring about the blood staining her.
“Just STAY, okay? The medics are almost here, hang in there, don't fall asleep” tears were streaming down her face cleaning some of the blood on yours as she moved her hand back to pull the tourniquet as tight as possible trying to stem the flow.
“I-I’m sorry, Nana….I-” you got interrupted by your own harsh wet coughing as blood started to clog your throat.
“Don’t apologize just STAY AWAKE you hear me? Just a little more, my love just stay with me a little longer” Her usual calm and stoic demeanor was long forgotten as she tried to stop the inevitable
You cough a few more times, blood and spit landing on her pristine scout’s uniform and staining her hands as you try to stop gagging long enough to get your words out “I-...I love you.” The words were weak, just as weak and drained as your voice, but she heard them clear as day. The finality to your voice sent a chill down her spine
She let out a breath shaking her head rapidly in disbelief “don't speak like that you're not going anywhere I won't forgive you so you better not go. You have to stay. I love you too” her voice cracked as she spoke, struggling to speak without the lump in her throat.
With a nod you tried your hardest to stay awake for her but the exhaustion was catching up to you as you fought to keep your eyes open.
“Promise me… you'll live” you rasped out as you started to lose consciousness.
“I need you here you can't-” she was interrupted yet again by your voice that was barely audible at this point your eyes just barely cracked open. “Promise me.”
As more tears flowed down her face, she agreed, kissing your forehead one last time as you went limp in her arms.
Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled back, noticing your eyes were closed and your face slackened. You almost looked peaceful, like you were sleeping in the afternoon sun after a long, treacherous mission and not—
She shook you gently, her heart racing with denial.
‘No..nonononono’ the shaking grew more frantic and harsher as the reality started to set in that you had fallen unconscious
“Come on, come on, wake up, WAKE UP!” She sounds hysterical as she continuously taps your face, trying to get some sort of response.
"You're not leaving me. Please, just stay awake."
The desperation in her voice was palpable. She gripped your hand tighter, her eyes locked on yours as she willed you to hang on. Her tears fell unbidden, streaking through the grime and blood on her face.
"We've made it through so much together. You're NOT going to throw it all away like this! Not when we're THIS close! Don't give up on me now, Cadet."
She reached out with her free hand, gently cupping your face. The pain in her voice could be felt by everyone else there.
After a while, she leaned closer, putting her ear next to your mouth and nose and waited with bated breath for some kind of exhale, a gasp, a choke, anything to indicate you were still with her. All she received was a chilling silence.
'Oh by the walls... god please no not them PLEASE' her mind raced as her training kicked in and she checked for a pulse, nothing, GONE.
She took a deep breath as she unfastened the strap on your chest from the harness and moved your top out of the way, placing her intertwined hands on your chest, she began pumping hard and fast.
‘Don’t even think about it. You're NOT leaving me here’ she hit thirty tilted your head back and forced air into your unresponsive lungs before repeating compressions.
“Come ON damnit! Don't you DARE leave me here! Breathe, damnit, come on!”
Her arms were shaking, wrists locked, the bones in her hands screaming from the force of her compressions. Her breath came ragged and uneven as she tilted your head again, forcing another breath into lungs that refused to move, refused to listen.
“You made me a promise,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You said we’d make it back together. You said we’d see the ocean—remember? You made me believe it.”
Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Repeat.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each time she breathed into you, it felt like part of her was leaving with it, like she was hollowing herself out just to keep you here. Just to stall the silence. Just to delay the truth she refused to face.
"You saved me," her voice cracked mid-sentence, a cry stuck halfway between fury and heartbreak, “That should’ve been me under that fucking tree. Not you. It was supposed to be me—”
Her voice broke, a bitter sob tearing from her throat as she slammed her fists against your chest. Not to hurt you. To wake you. To will your heart to start again.
"You don’t get to die like this! Not when I still have your ring in my pocket!” she cried, her hand digging blindly into her jacket until her fingers curled around the small silver band—the one you’d given her just weeks ago, hands shaking, face flushed with nerves and joy.
She stared down at it with wide, tear-filled eyes before pressing it into your bloodied palm, closing your stiff fingers around it.
“You don’t get to propose and then just leave—that’s not how this ends, do you hear me?! You said forever. You promised me forever!”
But there was no reply. Just the hollow sound of her breath, the relentless rain, and the soft thud of her hands against your chest as she resumed compressions despite the tremor overtaking her limbs.
Her squad was there now, somewhere behind her. She could hear the shuffle of boots, the quiet murmurs, the unspoken grief creeping into the air like poison. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
“MOVE!” she screamed when someone dared to step forward. “I said MOVE! I’m not done—they’re not gone—they’re not—”
Her vision blurred again, this time from tears that wouldn’t stop falling. The salt stung as it mingled with the open cuts on her face, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the cold seeping into your skin.
“I know you’re tired. I know, baby,” she whispered desperately, lowering her forehead to yours. “But you have to breathe. You have to come back. I don’t know how to do this without you—I don’t want to.”
Her next breath hitched so violently it sounded like she was choking.
“I can’t be the reason you’re gone. Please… please wake up. If there’s anything in you left—any part of you that can hear me—breathe. Please, just breathe…”
She went to do another round of compressions and couldn’t.
Her hands gave out.
Her knees buckled beneath her, body collapsing onto yours as her strength finally abandoned her, her cheek pressing against your chest as if she could trick herself into hearing something. Anything. Even just one more heartbeat.
There was nothing.
No warmth. No movement. No miracle.
Only the horrible, irreversible stillness that told her she was too late.
Miche approached then, slow and cautious. He didn't speak—he knew there were no words that could soften what she already knew.
“Nanaba,” he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, only to feel her flinch like she’d been burned. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t let go.”
“You don’t have to,” he replied gently. “But you can’t stay here. The others—”
“I said I can’t.” Her voice was sharp now, almost feral, but then it cracked again, broke completely as her forehead touched yours one last time. “They’re not even cold yet… I can still feel them. I can still smell them in the air.”
Her tears soaked into your collar, mixing with the rain, the mud, the blood.
After several more seconds, her body finally sagged, surrendering to exhaustion. Her face buried in the crook of your neck, she shook silently, her hand clutching your sleeve in a white-knuckled grip that refused to loosen even as Miche knelt beside her.
Only when her sobs turned to choked, hollow gasps did he wrap his arms around her and gently pull her away. She didn’t resist so much as crumple, the grief pulling her under with a force more brutal than any Titan ever could. As she was dragged away, her hand outstretched, reaching for you even as the distance widened, she managed one final breathless plea:
“Come back to me…”
But the only answer was the patter of rain, and the silence of a world that had already moved on without you, leaving Nanaba to finally accept that she couldn't save what was already long gone.
There was no victory. No glory. Just the numbing silence where your voice used to be.
The others stood in hushed reverence, heads bowed, unsure whether to step forward or give her space. Nanaba didn’t notice them. Couldn’t. Her world had narrowed to the stillness of your chest, the hand that had gone limp in hers, and the echo of your final words still ringing in her ears.
“I love you.”
She reached out once more, gently brushing a blood-matted strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers trembling.
“I promised,” she whispered. “So I’ll live, but it won’t be living… not without you.”
And as the sky darkened and the rain began to fall again, soft, steady, like the tears she could no longer cry, Nanaba sat there in the mud, beside the person she loved most, holding onto your memory like it was the only thing left keeping her heart from shattering entirely.
warning: angst - no comfort (reader death*) | one curse word (F)
includes: Albedo (eleazar sickness - mentions of wheelchair, losing the ability to walk, think, function), Diluc (illness undefined), Thoma (illness - cancer)
character x gn reader | anthology
request (reader is sick and doesn’t go out with grace (these are rough yall)) & collaboration - @versadies Farewell Love event -- “what’s wrong with me?” | this broke me
Albedo
relationships, connections, these were not what he imagined he’d have in his life - sure, there were a select few that would always be there but to find himself so eager to spend time with you, to learn more about you, to fall in this ‘so called love,’ it was all so new
“Master Albedo,” one of the attendants interrupted him and his research. He glanced up to greet them and an unfamiliar face standing at side, “This is y/n, the biologist from Sumeru.” They ushered you forward, Albedo noticed the curiosity in you as you scanned your surroundings. Your hand extended toward him, a formal greeting, but your bright eyes and wonderful smile were given to the room.
Chuckling, you finally turned to look at him as your hand curled around his in a friendly hand-shake, “You have such an astonishing research facility Chief Alchemist. I hope you don’t mind, but I did a little research on your work during my travels. You’re work is fascinating and, well, I’m honored to work alongside you.”
Albedo sensed the connection the moment you touched him, the second he saw the purity in your eyes, the curiosity he knew so well. Kindred spirits finding each other; sharing in their joy. “Well,” he spoke, clearing his throat, “I do hope you learn as much as you are willing to teach -”
“Absolutely, Chief Alchemist,” you replied with a small bow of your head.
“Please, Albedo is fine.”
You laughed, a nervous one or an apologetic one, he wasn’t sure, but he liked the sound of it nevertheless, “Of course,” you released his hand and made your way to an empty work station, the one next to his, “so, shall we get started, Albedo?”
as a being unlike anything else in this world, Albedo knew his physiology would set him apart from the normal ailments, terminal illnesses, and death that plagued others
it never occurred to him to concern himself over his health, and it never occurred to him he’d suddenly become consumed by the subject
Albedo made his way down the hall to his office. It was a slow morning, not many students made their way to the lab so the halls were quiet, unobtrusive to his thoughts. He carried two cups of tea in his left hand, the steam from the hot liquid filled his nose and though he couldn’t see you, the thought of you ran through his mind.
The office door was slightly ajar, inside he found you standing next to the chalkboard writing a few notes here and there. Every once in a while you shook your arm as if something was bothering you.
“How’s it going?” Albedo asked as he placed the cups on the desk behind you. Without missing a beat, he picked one up and offered it to you. The cup touched your arm so you twisted to accept it; Albedo couldn’t help but notice how much your hand trembled, struggled to hold the cups weight.
Has it already gotten this bad?
“My calculations seem to be off but I’ve ran this, like, ten times already and I don’t know what’s wrong,” you let out an exasperated sigh before taking a sip of the tea. A gentle smile pulled at your lips and a soft hum told him you liked it, “This is a great pick-me-up.” You were still holding the chalk in your hand when you pulled it up to surround the mug in your palms. Sip after sip you continued to smile as you gazed at the problem on the chalkboard.
“Perhaps its not something within the equation,” Albedo moved to grab another chalk, but before he approached the board, he returned to retrieve your notebook. “Ah, I see.” He moved to erase a few numbers you’d written on the side. As soon as he finished, you exclaimed at his revelation.
“OH! Of course, how stupid of me.” Quickly, you placed the cup down and began to correct the numbers in your formula. As you did, Albedo noticed the black marking on your arm, and based on his internal measurements, it was spreading.
Albedo prided himself on knowing so much -- how frustrating was it when the knowledge he sought provided nothing but pitiful apologies
some genius he turned out to be
You lost the ability to walk weeks ago. It was surprising how difficult it was to make your way around Mondstadt in a wheelchair so you were confined to the grounds of the Knights Headquarters. Luckily for you, there was enough commotion on a good day to keep you entertained, and your research kept you plenty busy. That was when your focus wasn’t poor, or your mind wasn’t fuzzy and disconnected.
It was frustrating trying to work when your mind refused to cooperate. Irritation was a new reoccurring emotion for you but you tried to push through. You refused to let this sickness take more from you, even though it had already taken your legs and was slowly taking your arms.
You weren’t sure what was going on with your body, but Albedo assured you he was working on a cure - and you trusted him, right? The only problem was you wanted to help him, wanted to know more, understand why your body was failing you, why the black, scale-like rashes kept spreading and taking everything with it. You wanted to put your faith in him but you were scared and he wasn’t telling you anything.
A few days after you were confined to a wheelchair, Albedo disappeared behind closed doors. You were slowly losing yourself, you didn’t need to lose him too.
Disturbing him wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you were desperate. Desperate for answers, for comfort, to see his face once again, to hear him -- before it was all too late, you wanted to know him once more.
“A-Albedo?” You called out in the dim light of his office, the fingers you curled around the wheels grew weaker with every grip, every push, but you refused to give up. It strained your voice to speak louder, your chest stung as you called to him again, but seeing him hunched over a table, books spread, tossed aside as if they were no longer useful to him. Scattered notes and torn hopes laying everywhere they fell while he poured himself into a solution, a reason that would never reveal itself to him. It was clear he needed you just as much as you needed him.
“Albedo ...” you spoke and he turned to see you. Eyes lost, shrouded in dark circles and red skin, graphite touching his cheeks as if he’d fallen asleep on his notes again. He saw you and the color he didn’t have faded from his face, “... what’s wrong with me?” You asked, but he couldn’t answer you.
death, it’s only the beginning - what a load of crap
Albedo rarely left your side after that night. The night where the moon was hidden by the clouds and his discovery yielded nothing. In the hours you slept, he snuck away to the study to search more, test again, find a solution but failure after failure he found himself spent. In the few hours you seemed to see grasp your surroundings he would talk to you, read to you, and share with you discoveries as they occurred, but mostly he would hold your hand and become fixated on it’s changing color.
“... be..o,” you whispered as best you could. It seemed the disease was finally taking the last bit of your will with it. “... on’t wanna go ...”
Albedo moved toward you, his body barely resting on the edge of the chair as he leaned to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Lately, they didn’t seem to stop falling. He began to speak but, in all the pitiful sounds you could muster, you cut him off.
“nnng ... non done ... on’t wanna ...” In your head you were screaming, with every fiber of your being you were screaming to communicate to him but the words refused to come out. “I ... lob .. you ... wanna ...”
Albedo -- I don’t want this to happen -- I don’t want to lose myself and forget you -- please don’t let me forget you too -- why is this happening to me --
“Don’t give up” Albedo replied as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I believe there is an answer to this. I will find it. I will find it,” he repeated while you tried to tell him every little thing that ran through your veins.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Let me stay ...
A few days later you slipped into a coma until, ultimately, you slipped away from him completely.
He watched as the light that entered his lab faded in cognition and function. He witnessed your determination to fight against the sickness that cared little for your own willpower, all the while he was helpless to stop it.
It took him weeks to enter the spaces you once occupied. He feared he’d hear your voice calling out to him, or hear your laughter in the sunlight. He dreaded feeling you over his shoulder only to turn around and find you out of his reach. He’d watched people pass, but this was unlike any parting he ever had to make.
Albedo slumped into his desk chair, his absentminded hands drifted over the places he could remember you in. The sound of you working on the chalkboard, the rustle of paper and pen, the soft muttering as you read, the opening and closing of drawers as you moved around his items to make room for your own. He pulled open the top left drawer and laughed at how he could never find anything without you and that’s when he saw a letter. On the surface was his name written in your handwriting.
Desperate, terrified, he lingered over it until he could bear it no longer. Albedo wept as he soaked in the words you were never able to tell him:
Albedo,
I wanted to thank you. From the moment we met, you were the person who was meant to be my partner in life. I’ve learned so much from you that I wish I had the time to pay it back tenfold. You pushed me, challenged me, encouraged me and helped me. I can’t ask for more but [words are smudged and unreadable]
I know we were distracted from the research I originally came to assist you with, so I’ve written out a few notes that I think will aid you since, well, I am no longer there to do so myself.
Truthfully, I didn’t want to go. No one ever wants to die, especially when they have someone like you by their side, but even though I am no longer with you, please don’t blame yourself. I never did.
I [the words are blurred by tear stains] answers are out there, if anyone can find them, you can. Save the next person for me, okay? Oh, but, don’t forget [word is smudged] your life ... live your life, Albedo.
I will always love you, Chief Alchemist
y/n
--
Diluc
he never imagined in his life he’d fall for someone, so while he worried and contemplated the truth of his feelings, he dreaded the thought of his darkness rubbing off on you - how could have have ever known that no amount of saving, spending, fighting, would ever keep you in his arms
He found himself distracted by you every day. It didn’t matter what you did, where you went, or how you carried yourself - to him you were always the best sight in the world to see. Today was like any other, perfect from dawn to dusk until, suddenly, every nightmarish fear came crashing through his heart like a monster destroys a home.
You were busy by the grape vines, your face showed no signs of discomfort but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. When the two of you woke up, seemed you moved slower than normal and, every once in awhile, you winced for no reason. You passed it off as nothing, a gentle pat on his arm to let him know you were okay, a soft smile and a reassuring kiss against his scared skin. You said you were okay; he trusted you.
Diluc was busy talking to several of his employees when his eyes caught you fanning yourself and gripping onto the side of a cart; he was asked a question so he neglected the gnawing thoughts building in his chest.
A business conversation, a sentence half-made as his whole world came crashing down when the sound of someone desperately called your name. He was gone in an instant and pushed his way to you, bending knee holding you steady, hand cupping your face, blood going cold at the oddness of your skin. “I’m - I’m alright.” You panted, eyes heavy, focus distorted.
“Call the doctor. Now.” Diluc lifted you in his arms. He could hear you try to reassure him everything was fine but he couldn’t make it out over the scolding, reprimanding thoughts that whispered: he had failed you.
no one could have known, no one could have foreseen the outcome - but everyone could feel the suffering spilling from the bedroom
Maids glanced at the closed door as they went about their work, attendants reached for the knob or tried to spy the words inside only to be shooed away by Adelinde
when the doctor finally left and word spread of your fate, the once colorful winery slipped into grey
“Don’t push yourself.” Adelinde reminded you as she reached for your hand. Everything hurt. Your muscles ached, your head throbbed, the mere action of stepping out of the bathtub made you want to throw up. It wouldn’t have mattered much, you barely eat anything anyway. “Let me help.”
“I can do it myself -- ah!” You pushed her away only to stumble into the bathroom countertop. Your hands slipped on the marble surface, elbow crashing against it. That would surely leave a bruise.
“Y/N!”
“I said - I’m - I’m f-fine!” The tears began to fall and you crumpled to the floor while Adelinde surrounded you in the softest towels she could find and patiently waited for you to find your footing. “... wha-what’s wrong with me, Adelinde?” you trembled while she hushed your tears.
you were getting worse - every treatment ended up making you sicker, every idea was wasted, every hope shattered into despair
you just wanted to give up, but he never did
“Diluc.” You whispered against his hand. It was impossible for you to get up anymore. Walking was excruciating, bending your limps, your joints sent waves of discomfort through you. Your days were drawing to a close but, as if to buy you a little bit more time, Diluc confined you to the bed and spent every waking moment with you. “Hey, sleepy.” You called out to him but he didn’t answer. He was exhausted, you were exhausted, but there was a looming fear that if you closed your eyes you’d never see him again.
Trembling, you stretched your hand toward his face. It felt like your bones were shattering in your arms but you braved the pain for him. In the last few months you’d only ever seen him with a contorted, serious, hidden expression as if he were trying to stay strong. If only you had that resolve too, but you were terrified. Terrified of losing him, terrified of what was to come ... terrified of ... dying.
You missed those days when he courted you. Missed the days where he smiled in the shadow of the world, just so you could see him. Missed how he laughed and lifted you high, or held you close knowing you wouldn’t break in his arms. You missed the life that should have been yours, and you were furious it wouldn’t be.
“Please, please Barbados - give me more time.” Pulling his hand to your lips, you placed a wet kiss to them before turning into your pillow and crying until sleep forcibly took you.
the winery shut down - no more orders, no more wine, no more anything. Angels Share had turned into a place of prayer even though it seemed sacrilegious to beckon to the gods in a place where most people desired to get away from them
Diluc barely held himself together but he braved every day for you - but on this day - the day he lost you ...
“There’s no more time.” The doctor whispered to the broken man by the door. A heavy hand rested on his shoulder but it provided no comfort to his crumbling heart. “It’s best you ... say your goodbyes.” Diluc looked at the physician sharply as if his words offended him, but the quiet intruder only closed their eyes before slipping down the hall.
“D-Diluc.” You cried out and he, on shaking legs, made his way to your side.
“I’m here.” He replied, or at least he hoped he did. He wasn’t sure how to speak much these days.
“It hurts.” He knelt beside you, hands reaching for your own as his head fell onto the sheets that held your scent. “I think - I think ... Diluc ..” Your throat clenched and the tears began to fall. No matter what he did to brush them away, nothing mattered. “I don’t want to ... I can’t leave you.”
“It’s going to be alright,” He lied, unsure what else to say and hoping, maybe, if he believed in it strong enough it would come true. “You won’t.” He brushed your hair from your face, his fingers stroked your skin as he leaned in to kiss you.
“I’m scared.”
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, neither are you.” Your lips trembled, your watering eyes blocked out the world so you closed them. Diluc desperately wished you’d keep them open. Let him see, let him see you for as long as he could.
please don’t leave - please don’t leave - please don’t leave me too
You tried to speak but your breathing became erratic so he pressed his hand to your chest, softly guiding you with his words and his actions to ease your breathing, to calm you down but you couldn't. You could feel it, you knew it was time - and you were furious. Whining, crying, you reached for him neck and held on with all the strength you had left. “I don’t want to - I love --”
What does it feel like to hold onto your heart only to feel it slip away? It’s nothing anyone can ever explain but, for Diluc Ragnvindr, it’s a curse he can never escape.
You trembled, tightened your grip, tried to say his name in the voice he loved so much. He didn’t let you go until he realized you weren’t there anymore.
“Y/N?” Diluc lifted his head, eyes searching yours for a reply. For the first time in so long time he gazed at the relaxed, peaceful expression on your face. Deep down in his heart he knew what it meant. No longer were you suffering, no longer did you hold fear in your heart, no longer would you be hungry or thirsty ... no longer ...
He brushed away your final tears but couldn’t stop himself from slipping into the tortured blackness of his broken heart as he collapsed onto your chest and when he found he could no longer hear your once comforting heartbeat he screamed.
You were gone and he begged the world to take him with you.
--
Thoma
to look at the world and see all it’s capabilities, this trait showed it’s face the day after he washed up on shore. There was nothing holding him back anymore as he braved the world ahead and, much to his surprise, he caught your eye and felt like the luckiest man in the world - so why was this happening, he had never broken his promises before -- what went wrong
Thoma spotted you wandering through the harbor. He’d seen you plenty of times but, for some reason, he felt drawn to you as you passed by vendor after vendor, hands clasped around a small money pouch, a careful eye on all the items for sale. It appeared like you were searching for something but unable to find it.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for a small hairpin, maybe about this long, that isn’t too extravagant. Do you sell anything like that?” The vendor thought for a moment before shaking his head. You did the same before waving a friendly goodbye.
“... Ah - Um, excuse me,” Thoma interjected, catching you slightly off guard. You seemed unsteady, your eyes scanning your surroundings before you took a deep breath. “Sorry, did I startle you?”
“No, I’m alright. Can I help you?”
“Oh, yes, haha,” Thoma rubbed the back of his head before finishing, “Please don’t think it’s rude, but I overheard you are looking for a hairpin?”
“Mmm, for a friend, yes.” Squinting your eyes, you looked at him curiously.
“I believe I know a place, plus, it’ll be far cheaper than anything you’d find in the harbor.” He leaned in to keep his voice low enough to not be heard by anyone other than the two of you, “The vendors here are known for charging unreasonable prices.”
“... I see.” You were hesitant, that was apparent, so Thoma did his best to reassure you.
“I’m sorry, I guess it would be rather odd to just follow someone. I’ll write directions for you and you can go with someone you trust.” He searched his bag for something to write with but you cut him off.
“I try not to live my life through fear, but if you murder me, I will haunt you forever.”
Thoma burst into laughter and threw up his hands, “I promise I won’t.”
“A-Alright, but ... I walk a little slow.”
“No worries, I’ve got time.” He instinctually offered you his hand but, after finding that was strange, not only by the awkward silence in the air, but also by your expression, he pulled it back and gestured in the direction of the shop.
spending time with you was fun, exciting, and he grew attached to you quickly -- but
he could tell there was a secret you were keeping from him. it wasn’t his place to pry - but he couldn’t help but notice how winded you became, how tired you were, how some days the color in your face would shift to hues he’d never seen before ... or the bruises that weren’t there the day before, no seemed to appear at random
You coughed and the feeling rattled your lungs. Secretly you hoped this would only last a minute, but it was turning into one of your fits at the worst possible time.
The tea-cup rattled as you nearly dropped it on the table so you could grip your clothes and cover your mouth with your other hand. It hurt, it hurt so much. It felt like knives were climbing their way up your esophagus. Your back tensed, bones cracked, your neck grew tight and it was becoming hard to breathe, but you couldn’t stop coughing.
Thoma rushed to your side - when did he even make it back into the room - and did his best to help. He’d seen you collapse before, seen you sick, but you hoped your dear friend would never have to see you lost in a fit like this. It was scary to you, how horrifying would it be to an outsider.
“T-Th-ma -” You croaked through violent coughs and gasps for air. His hand moved to your narrowed view and you grasped it until the fit subsided.
“Breathe slow, steady,” he repeated until your coughs transitioned into shaky breaths; he poured a glass of water for you. “Can you drink?” You nodded and took small sips of the refreshing liquid. It felt good against your burning throat but you tried not to drink too much to set it off again.
“S-Sorry,” you mumbled, voice cracking and breaking between sips of water.
“Don’t be sorry. D-Does that happen often?”
You nodded, “Sometimes, but it’s getting worse ...” Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew what it meant but refused to accept it. Perhaps if you denied the truth long enough, you could spent more days with your friend and the man you --
“Let me get you a blanket, your shivering.” Thoma left your side and that’s when you realized the red reflecting in the glass wasn’t from his jacket.
it sucked, it was unfair - you wanted to blame him, wanted to push him away but you couldn’t find the strength to do it
all your life you had kept yourself safe from the reality that weighed you down, “you aren’t meant to live in this world, y/n, so don’t - no matter what - get attached to it”
The cool breeze felt refreshing on your heated skin. It wasn’t great for you to be out with a fever, but your body was always warm now. It’s goal was to fight the illness raging inside of you but it was failing, you were failing, and your time was running short.
All you wanted was to be alone. All you wanted was to be by Thoma’s side. All you wanted was more fucking time but you weren’t going to get any of that. How was it that in a world full of visions that could burn, consume, reshape, and heal, not a single one of them could make you better.
You were furious years ago, but now you were bitter.
A familiar voice called out to you but you hated its sound because it reminded you of all the things you’d never be able to do. It painted pictures in your mind that you’d never be able to see. The voice brought you life didn’t understand that you were nothing but death to it.
“y/n?”
“Leave, Thoma.”
“I brought you your favorite. Why don’t we go inside where it’s warm and eat it together.”
“I don’t want to. Please, just go.” Your voice broke, you wrapped the thin blanket around your body as if to protect you from the cold truth.
“You should eat. It’ll make you stronger.”
“Stronger, right.”
“Come on,” The dish he made came into view as he rested it on the railing but as soon as you felt him touch you, you backed away, stumbling on your weak legs.
“No. J-Just go, please.” The tears were threating to fall but when you looked at the pain on his face their threat became reality. “... what is wrong with me?” you covered your eyes, the emotions in your chest made you cough and your mind dizzy.
“You’re just sick, why don’t we rest.”
“NO!” You screamed, catching him off-guard, his hands hovering just above your elbows, ready to catch you. “Thoma, I’m dying. Don’t you get that!? I don’t know how much longer I have and I don’t know why you’re here. What? Do you want to watch me waste away? I can barely eat, I can barely walk, I can barely keep myself from falling fo --” you stopped yourself by clasping your hand over your mouth. When you felt composed, you turned to walk away from him, “leave Thoma, go live your life.”
“My life is right here.”
The sincerity in his voice forced a sob through your tight throat, another cough followed shortly as you collapsed toward the railing. Thoma rushed to the other side to offer his support and though his touch electrified your very being, it also broke your heart.
“This is the one thing I didn’t want ...” you cried, body trembling as you reached and held onto his arm for dear life. He waited, he always waited, “... I didn’t want to do this. I kept to myself because being with people was too hard. Allowing myself to get close meant I’d have to say goodbye ... Thoma, I wish I’d never met you ... then I .. I,” you held onto him tighter and looked into his eyes, “I wouldn’t have fallen in love just to lose it ...” With no more strength left, your knees gave way but Thoma caught you, he always caught you.
“I’ve got you. I’m here,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you. His fingers brushed your hair as he spoke, “You won’t lose it. You won’t -” he reassured, pleaded, hoped, but as he held you while you sobbed, both of you knew it was the only lie Thoma would ever tell.
it only got worse - you stopped eating, barely drank. you were confined to the bed but slept more often than you were awake. it was painful to breathe and you were exhausted all the time until one day -- when everything finally eased
You felt something cold against your lips, your eyes fluttered open to see what it was but you could hardly make anything out. It was too bright so you close them again and listened to the sounds in the room.
“Hey there,” Thoma’s voice greeted you so you turned toward it. “Try to sleep some more, it’s still early.” He sounded so close but so far away. There was a strangeness in his tone you couldn’t place.
“mmm,” shaky as your hand was, you managed to lift it enough for him to grab it. The sensation of his warmth spread up your arm and reached your heart as if that was his very goal in life. “... love ...”
Thoma’s lips connected to your fingers and though he tried to hide it, you could hear the strain in his voice as he answered you, “I love you, too. Try to ... sleep, okay?” You squeezed his hand and he returned the gesture while you drifted back to sleep.
--
Thoma was the one who saw you when no-one else did. He was the one who helped you through so many difficulties when you swore it would all fall on your shoulders alone. He burst into your life like a dog welcoming you home; you swore to never get attached, but Thoma made that impossible.
He was the one who held you when you couldn’t stop shaking, he was the one who made sure you could eat, even if it required the most intense preparation. When others couldn’t be there, he was at your side and, in the final days, he held your hand until all life from it faded away.
Thoma saw you live and he watched the way you died.
As he laid the flowers on your grave, he let his hand rest against your name just to feel close to you one last time, “You said you weren’t meant for this world, but you were meant for mine ...” he stumbled over the final words as he spoke, “you were mine.”
Zombie apocalypse with ghost would be crazy because he would find a pretty thing with skills he needs and decide "yer coming with me" without ever asking you, probably would hide it under the guise of protection for you but he gets oddly possessive when other survivors talk to you. A few heavy touches, maybe a drunken makeout, but he never goes far enough to scare you away.
and when you inevitably get bitten, he's already too emotionally attached, can't handle going back to being alone. So he straps a muzzle to your face and a chain around your neck, calls you his "perfect guard dog." And feeds you bits of survivors that try to kill you. He smiles whenever you try to form words, his sweet thing always had so much to say.
...if he still gets a bit handsy with you, then that's his business.
Now imagine the red string of fate being a huge source of comfort in konigs life, right?
At night, when the phantom-sounds of gunshots and screaming get too loud, he curls the string around his fingers and stares at the striking red. On days where konig wants to love anybody but himself, he holds that red and sends it all his love.
A promise there's someone out there who would hold all the ugly, terrifying parts of him and love him anyways. Love all of him.
He doesn't notice when it happens, caught up in the middle of an op. He leaves base with a red string, and sometime between then and returning back it's...gone.
His soulmate dies before konig can meet them.
He...loses himself a bit. Who would want him, who would love him if not you? He can't cope without that red string.
No one comments on the bracelet konig wears constantly nowadays. It's striking red, beads reflecting a deep wine in the sunlight. When he feels stressed, angry, bad, he runs his fingers over the bracelet.
Name-mark soulmate au where price's soulmate has a distinctly masculine name, right?
Well, he grew up and served in a don't-ask-don't-tell military, the kind of environment that meant if anyone saw his soulmark he'd be the next unfortunate soldier lost to 'accidental' friendly fire.
Price can't help but resent you, though he doesn't know you.
A tell-all to anyone with eyes, stamped right across his heart. It feels more like a bullseye than a promise of love. He's gotten good at hiding it. Keeping his chest covered at all times, stubbornly facing the corner in the showers and lockers. If anything, it's just motivation to climb rank.
No one questions when a captain keeps a soulmark cover on at all times, plenty of officials try to keep their soulmates safe.
The first time he sees your name written on a surface other than his skin, all price can feel is dread. Paperwork before him, some incident that happened under Kyle's watch that he needs to sign off on.
Your name is tossed in between two other instigators, unassuming, bland. As if knowing there's a man on base right now with his name marked on skin isn't the worst circumstance john could be in.
Price locks the door before pulling up your file.
Christ, you're handsome. Well built, with a cocky little smile that has something weird and dangerous turning in johns stomach. He glances over your credentials, everything checks out. No one would suspect it.
The process of transferring you to the 141 is easy, apparently the team have all worked with you in some capacity before, they like you.
Choosing a mission with just you and him feels...weird.
Like he's planning a date with his lover, though he's never known you as anything but a threat to his life. Price selects a location far from civilization, with dangerous terrain and no travel. No one will think twice when you don't return, rookies die all the time to dumb shit.
Really, price is just protecting himself. Maybe if things were different, he'd know you as what you were meant to be. A lover, a soft touch, the man to keep him safe and happy.
He tries not to think about how empty he feels signing away your life with just a few signatures. That's just how it is in the military. Nothing to change that.
The night started with only one body, and now there are two; both the Headmage and the Ramshackle Prefect are dead. Will the killer ever be found before more people die?
Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Divus Crewel, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengroto, Silver, Jade Leech, Cater Diamond
Content; Unreliable narrators, murder mystery
Content Warning; Murder, blood, death, reader death, character death, description of a dead body & method of death, dead dove content in general
Word Count; 1.1 K
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As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist
It was foolish, it was dangerous, but Jade could not blame the Ramshackle prefect for wanting out of that room. He may be used to — in some sense — the eyes clouded in distrust that are usually sent his way, but the Prefect? To have their friends turn on them in such a manner? He could not blame them for fleeing, for wanting to distance themselves. Yet, fleeing was how they ended up in this situation, and Jade froze at the top of the staircase to the main hall.
He had seen blood before, for the ocean was not a kind place, he had witnessed death, but the scene in front of him? He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
In some sick turn of events, you were now dead. Glassy eyes, and a peaceful expression on your face. You didn’t know… it was sudden.
“Jade-” Azul was coming up from down the hall… he wouldn’t be able to see the scene, and Jade lifted his hand, motioning him to stop, which Azul did. “... did you find them?”
Jade nodded, and Azul could tell from his posture that something was horribly wrong. He was shaken, a rare sight, which could only spell the worst.
…
…
Everyone had come back to the mirror chamber, with the last two people being Jade and Azul. All eyes were on them.
“What’s with the gloomy faces,” Cater asked, fidgeting with his phone, a nervous habit.
Jade cleared his throat, “The Prefect is dead.” His voice was monotone, but everyone could tell that it disturbed him, a rare thing indeed.
Several things happened at once. Professor Crewel started shaking visibly. Rook had silent tears rolling down his face. Vil took a step back, face pale. Cater stopped fidgeting and was now clenching his fists. And Silver clenched his jaw, and was standing stiff as a board.
Whoever the killer was, they did a good job of hiding it. Did they find this amusing? Why did they do this? What is their motive?
“Who came across them?” Professor Crewel said through gritted teeth.
Jade looked at the man with suspicion, “I did, sir.” He knew what the next question would be; ‘how did they die?’ “... their throat had been slit.”
If he had done it, wouldn’t he be covered in blood? Eyes scanned over everyone, but as far as they could all tell, no one had a speck of blood on them.
“We need to stick together,” Azul spoke up, analyzing everyone knowing they were doing the same in turn to him. “And since the prefect,” his voice pitched a bit, his emotions getting the better of him, “was innocent, we have to vote again.”
Everyone shuffled, but once again they all wrote down who they thought the murderer was, the room, and the weapon; whoever killed Crowley had thought it would be ‘funny’ to dispose of the Prefect in the manner the majority thought they had disposed of the Headmage.
“Seven people, eight rooms, six weapons. One person is guilty, two dead, and until they are found, no one is safe; from the perpetrator of the crime, or of being accused.” The mirror repeated what it had said last time, but with adjustments to reflect what had happened since then.
Everyone waited with bated breath as the mirror started to show who was voted. And in the mirror was Professor Crewel in the main hall, with his mage stone in hand.
The mirror then faded again to black, “He is not the killer. The Headmage was not killed in the main hall. The weapon is magic.”
Divus was shaking again, and everyone knew that this time it was anger; he was first angry that the Prefect was killed, as he was technically responsible for them with being staff and all, but now that his own students had thought him capable that he would murder Crowley. Yes, the man aggravated him to no end, but he wouldn’t stoop to homicide of all things. And these pups had also thought that he would slit the throat of one of his own students… So yes, he was angry, rightfully so.
Instead of lashing out though, Divus took in a long breath through his nose, and let it out through his mouth, getting a grip on himself. He was the eldest here, he couldn’t let his ire and grief get the best of him and make him do something foolish… that’s how you had met your end after all.
“From here on out we will be staying together,” he barked out. “Do not stray from the group. Am I understood?”
Everyone gave him a pensive nod as their answer, turning their eyes back to one another, judging, analyzing, trying to pin a motive on one another.
Divus cracked his whip against the ground, gathering everyone’s attention. “Now, Jade, can you show us where the Prefect is?”
Everyone looked to Jade, and he nodded, guiding everyone to the main hall. “Do be warned though,” he murmured, just loud enough so that everyone could hear him, “it isn’t for the weak of heart.”
…
…
It had been a few hours since Crowley was killed, and now everyone understood why the crime scene was so clean; magic killed him, someone had used their magic to kill the Headmage. But your death was not clean, it was a bloody mess. And since Jade had seen the scene before, everyone else had not.
Rook grimaced but didn’t look away from you, tears running down his face again. Silver put his hand over his mouth and looked away, as if he was going to be sick. Cater nearly fainted, and was bracing himself on the bannister. Divus was shaking again, and his anger was back in full force. Vil had seen you, but then looked up to the ceiling; he didn’t want his last memory of you to be this. And Azul, Azul was shaking, and pacing; thinking.
Jade’s jaw was clenched, and he wasn’t looking at the scene again, but his mind was trying to put the pieces together. Why kill the Prefect?
But his train of thought was interrupted by a loud crash of thunder, and the power went out. The thunder continued for a solid minute, drowning out any other sounds. And by the time the power flickered weakly back on, Professor Crewel was crumpled on the ground, face distorted in anger and shock.
He was dead, much like the Headmage and the Prefect.
There was no blood this time either, with the weapon finally pinned, it seemed like the murderer stuck with it, playing into this game. A sick game… would he win? Or can the remaining students find him before there is no one left?
LINK TO FORM (Voting will end on Friday, October 13th at 9 pm EST)
SUSPECTS:
- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show? (Plum)
- Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet)
- Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED
- Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard)
- Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green)
- Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED
- Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid)
- Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach)
ROOMS:
- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2)
- Teachers’ lounge
- Cafeteria
- Kitchens
- Lecture theatre
- Botanical garden
- Alchemy lab
- Library
- Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)
Divus had rolled Crowley over to his side and checked his pulse, but he found nothing. The Headmage was indeed dead, and the body was still warm and not yet in rigor mortis; the murder happened not long ago.
The students behind him were quiet, not one of them dared uttering a word, taking in the scene.
“He’s dead,” Divus huffed, getting up and dusting himself off. His grey eyes analyzed his students; as far as he knew, they were the only other people in the building, narrowing the suspect pool considerably.
He took note of the pursed lips, furrowed brows, and any other nervous ticks. Yet despite the disturbing scene, he saw quiet and disturbingly normal reactions; nothing that would clearly indicate any of them as the killer.
Finally, someone spoke up; Silver broke the silence. “How?”
Divus narrowed his eyes, but as far as he could tell, Silver was honest. How did Crowley die? That was a good question. As far as he could tell, the wound wasn’t apparent, and he would rather not tamper anymore with the crime scene; at least his gloves wouldn’t leave any fingerprints that could incriminate him.
“Murder, he was murdered.”
Silver, Cater, Vil and you all bristled at that revelation, whereas Azul, Jade, and Rook looked more pensive.
Who would have the motive? “And said murderer must be one of you pups.”
Now that statement got a reaction; anger, indignation, disbelief, shock, and suspicion. A bomb had been dropped, and they were just waiting for the timer to go off.
You cleared your throat, drawing everyone’s eyes to you. It was unnerving, and you could feel them trying to think of who would do something like this… and you knew that out of nearly everyone, you were the best suspect. “Or it could be you,” you stated coldly, gaging Professor Crewel’s response.
He gave nothing away, just raising a brow. “And what of you? Do you not despise the man? Can anyone here back up your whereabouts?”
“Or are you trying to cover up your own tracks?!” You were getting angry, rightfully so. You knew you didn’t do it.
The others were watching the two of you like hawks, seeing the tension build. Finally, Vil got between the two of you, breaking it up before it could escalate into anything more.
“You two need to stop this nonsense,” he huffed, looking between the two of you. “This isn’t the situation to start turning on each other since that would just turn into everyone turning on each other. We need to stay together.”
He was right, but the anger and hurt was still there. You looked at the body, thinking. The keys… could they help us figure this out?
Walking over, with everyone’s eyes on your back, you gingerly lifted the keys away from Crowley. “Could there be something in the school that would help us solve this?” Why is this starting to feel like some weird game? Ugh.
“The mirror chamber,” Rook murmured, turning his green eyes to you. “The mirror could tell us of le meurtrier.” The usual smile he wore was gone, a more serious look in his eye. To be fair though, you could not blame him for being more sombre, with the situation and all.
“It could also say how Headmage Crowley… met his fate,” Azul chimed in, pushing up his glasses. He looked slightly panicked and irritated. He had made his fair share of enemies and grudges, so perhaps he was just concerned about that.
Jade looked calm as ever, but it was always hard to read how he was feeling. “And the room it took place in as well,” he hummed, brows furrowed. There was something under the surface of his pleasant mask, he was analyzing everyone, trying to put two and two together.
Cater was busy trying to call for help, but his reception had died right before Crowley was found in his current condition… like someone had planned for them to all find the body together.
Vil was looking at everyone, trying to make sure that everyone didn’t turn on each other and go their separate ways… there was something at the back of his mind that knew that things would only get worse if everyone went their own way. And as far as he could tell, everyone was being honest, or someone was just putting up an act of being innocent, a very good act.
And Silver? Silver was just confused as to who could do something like this. And for some reason, he felt like he should have been there to protect the Headmage.
“Alright then,” Divus said, “to the mirror chamber it is.”
…
…
“Eight people, nine rooms, seven weapons. One person is guilty, and until they are found, no one is safe; from the perpetrator of the crime, or of being accused.” The dark mirror boomed, and seven weapons were floating in the air, as were photos of the rooms. “You must all vote on who could have murdered the Headmage with your rationale.”
With that, the mirror went silent, leaving the room eerily silent.
“Ballots,” Vil said, “to keep it anonymous to avoid any further animosity.”
There were no objections, and soon the room was full of the scratching of pen against paper. You were the last person to hand in your ballot, and you fed it to the mirror, letting the inky darkness eat up the slip.
Like some twisted joke, the mirror showed the reflection of the person who was voted as the person most likely to be the murderer, with the weapon in hand, and in the room itself. And you saw yourself, holding a dagger covered in blood, in Crowley’s office.
You felt everyone’s judgement, but the mirror faded out. “They are not the killer, nor is it the correct weapon or room.” And yet again silence.
Despite your better judgment, you fled the room, having been effectively betrayed by your peers. Silver ran after you, and then Cater. Eventually, everyone was separated looking for you.
You stopped running and switched to pacing in the main hall, trying to calm down, trying to not break down; now was not the time. You couldn’t afford to be emotional at such a time-
You felt a hand on your shoulder, and as you started to turn your head, trying to see who it was, everything went dark.
No one is safe. And unfortunately, you were the first person in your party to figure that out. For the true murderer would kill the accused who were actually innocent. And you met such a fate.
…
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Reader’s cause of death; stunned with a dagger, massive blood loss due to a laceration to the throat.
LINK TO GOOGLE FORM (form closes on Sunday, October 8th at 10 pm EST)
SUSPECTS:
- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show? (Plum)
- Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet)
- Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock)
- Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard)
- Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green)
- Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED
- Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid)
- Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach)
ROOMS:
- Main hall
- Teachers’ lounge
- Cafeteria
- Kitchens
- Lecture theatre
- Botanical garden
- Alchemy lab
- Library
- Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)
WEAPONS:
- Revolver
- Rope
- Dagger (eliminated in Chapter 1)
- Wrench
- Candlestick
- Lead pipe
- Magic
