would u ever consider writing for the stealth yautja from Killer of Killers?👀
TAKE THIS AND RUN—
No proofread (bcs I can't afford a proofreader) also, multiple parts! I reached the word limit😬💔
CONTENT WARNING; 18+, xenophilia, scent marking, oral (f receiving—yes he has a tongue), size diff, overstim, belly bulging, Oni protecting you (read: stalking)
First Love/Late Spring — Oni x Geishaf!Reader
• Shadows have long since followed you ever since you became a geisha. Other girls praised you for learning the shamisen quickly and often joked that it made up for your lack of conversational skills. It's not because you can't talk, you have countless topics for conversation starters. No matter how weird they may seem to the customers. It's because you have no idea how to react to the want of a young lord or the fact that they would want you for your body. Your earlier years were spent under the berating words of your drunkard father who reminded you daily that no one ever wanted you. Not even him. You had grown used to words like knives that cut emotional scars into your chest then.
• When he sold you to the Kurogane teahouse in late spring to earn money, fully intending for you to become a yujo—the madam mentioned that such a frail body wouldn't be cut out for that kind of work so she turned him away. She turned him away and took you in. That was the first time you ever felt wanted by someone other than your alleged father. Now he's just another man to you. People like those didn't deserve names or be remembered, the madam of Kurogane house would tell you nightly.
• The nearby daimyos preferred you and other courtesans when it came to entertainment. You played the shamisen well though not one of his colleagues could ever hold a conversation with you, your head always lowered as you strummed the strings carefully. Their lord preferred that. Until one day you witnessed a scene that no one should ever have. The quest for land and power had grown stronger each day. So too did the bodies. You didn't mean to exist there in the right place at the wrong time. Where other girls have fled, you remain frozen in place and your face nearly pressed into the tatami matted floors.
• Maybe the daimyo didn't see you. Or pretended not to. The only thing that snapped you out of that fear-stricked haze was the sound of the door sliding open then close. You were spared, but not for long.
That's when you'd first met him.
• A failed third attempt at your life and you mourned it with a single red camellia hairpiece situated in your hair. The air thick with fog and moonlight, your geta shoes resounding against stone steps with each movement forward. A lantern being your only source of light. You had ran from the teahouse, unsure if you should even return and risk the entire establishment. Thinking maybe you should've been struck by that sword that night. Those short endeavors by assassins ruined by a mysterious force. At first you were thankful for luck siding with you. Until the second one came and this time in a display so gruesome it took you and the girls weeks just to scrub everything out.
• They surmised a murderer had been set free. A bloodthirsty killer with an obsession for spines. They moved you to another room then, turned the old one into a storage closet. It could have been a ronin because cuts so clean like those didn't belong to something so simple as a knife-wielding man. Then: a soft thud makes itself known to you. A gurgle. A wet sound before silence ensues.
You turn and see it.
Blood splatter that hovered in midair.
• It defied reason. A spatter suspended in the night, floating before you as though the air itself had bled. Like a will-o’-wisp. Made of crimson. Your breath caught. Taking a step closer, heart pounding in your throat like a drum. That light of the lantern flickered against it—ruby droplets glistening over... nothing?
No. Not nothing. Something.
• The blood had stuck to a shape. A silhouette in the air. Faintly shimmering. Massive. Towering over you while its presence hummed, like the low resonance of a thunder held in check. Never had you been more resentful of your instincts until now. But it's like you're possessed when your hand lifts before you can think. Slow. Reverent. You reached out and touched it. The smear of blood is warm under your fingertips. Moving, it smears across skin? Not flesh, however. Something tougher. Hot, ridged, almost armored. Even though your hand trembles, you continue to feel.
• Feel until the shape inhales and so do you. More out of shock than an unconscious movement. A patch of color begins to spread under your hand, spreading across a surface and in multiple places. The light catches on plated muscle, tarnished silver armor—one you've never seen before, and thick strands of hair decorated with rings that sprawl across broad shoulders. Ending just below its collarbone. Its gaze glared right down at you through a steel mask. A man- no. Evil spirit? An eight-foot-tall demon? Whatever it was, your fingers were still pressed against its chest. Heel of your palm to midriff.
• You didn't scream. Couldn't. But you flinched when its head moved. Staring up at him as your palm remained slick with blood and rested on the strange, mesh covered torso of something utterly not human. This... being, never shared a word with you but it would listen. Intently. To every word you spoke as if entranced. Was this the one who had been chasing off your pursuers? All ending in a bloodbath whose process you didn't want to know? You wiped down the smear with a handkerchief and he let you once you apologized for touching him so carelessly. Not that he seemed to mind.
“I've known many hunters,” you said, eyes fixated on that strange mask. “But none who watched from the trees like a kami.” A few clicks was all you got. Low. Almost a purr.
• That night your cheeks flushed from reasons unknown, just that the proximity of this beast and you felt like something deep inside your chest was finally waking up. No matter how ugly it was, you didn't have the strength to push it back down. Not when he lowered himself on one knee just to meet your gaze. He could've killed you. But didn't and instead decided to protect you. Not one man had kneeled for you like he did and maybe it was wishful thinking but you finally felt like someone else. You know who you were. A performer. A listener. Keeper of too many secrets. A woman whose value was often misjudged—and whose dignity had angered the wrong man.
• But that fateful evening, under the witness of clear starry skies. You were just you. You returned to the teahouse eventually and confined yourself to your room. Looking back on that moment once every few moments. What if he had killed those men to save you for the last? For reasons you don't know. And you know there must be something very wrong with you to wish that he had. That's why you offered to leave a light every time he'd hunt your shadows. Under the pretense that it was to thank him, not so that he'd find your room quicker.
• It was foolish to think that a single meeting would render you so smitten. Even the thought made you recoil. But what word would be able to describe the way you stand under the old plum tree nightly? As if waiting for someone. You convinced yourself at one point that it's just to bask in the evening breeze. After all, the moon was exceptionally beautiful these past few nights. And just when you thought you had been able to regularly meet clients, his presence comes back to haunt you. The grass barely stirs as a presence stands behind you.
• You look over your shoulder and there he was. Heart nearly leaping out of your throat, sleeves lifting to shield his shape from the veranda's view. “You shouldn't be here,” you whispered urgently. “Someone might see—” He leans in and your breath catches. The long armed weapon in his grip placed against the trunk of the plum tree. It does little to distract you when he lowers his head to your throat. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just deliberately controlled. You hear the hiss of something opening and then you freeze. The sensation of his breath, hot and even, ghosting along your jaw.
• Hands curling in your sleeves. You can hear his nostrils flaring. Smelling you. Scenting you. Could feel as he dragged his face just above your skin, from beneath your ear to the curve of your throat. Slow and possessive. You stiffen at the thought—then trembled. The contact indirect, his skin never touched yours but it didn't have to. You didn't know when your hands were finally lowered towards his shoulders just shy of resting them on him. He presses something against the side of your neck and you swallow the squeak that threatens to leave your lips. It's not a weapon. But it excreted heat and a thick musk. A subtle, but alien fluid that brushes against your skin in a quick swipe.
• The scent immediately struck you with a gasp. Rich. Dense. It made you slightly stagger back with parted lips. “You... marked me?” He pulls back—mask clicking into place and tilts his head in that same curious manner, stance unwavering and tall under the tree. Fully visible under the moonlight filtering through the leaves. A predator laying claim. You swallow.
“I'm not your prey,” you insisted but your voice betrayed you. Soft. Throat-tight.
• He steps forward again, slowly. Shadow stretching over you due to his towering figure. Another click. Not a warning or a threat. An affirmation. That, yes, you aren't prey. You were never supposed to be. Asking him if he was trying to protect you only made take another step until your back was pressed against the plum tree. You had to tilt your chin up to keep looking at his face. Or a lack thereof. Trapped. But you didn't resist. A low purr rolling off him in waves when your breath hitches.
• Low, thrumming, barely audible to people who weren't within three meters from him. But you felt it in your chest. Body answering with a flutter you hadn't expected. Your knees weakened, a wetness forming between your thight and heat pooling low within your stomach. This time, he leaned so close your breaths mingled. Forehead brushing against yours while your breathing stuttered. The intent behind his actions was searing. With parted lips, he steps back and the pressure vanishes. With him alongside it. He was cloaked in a shimmer of refracted light, leaving only the deep musk on your throat and the ghost of his warmth.
• And you stood there for what seemed like a long time, you hadn't noticed you'd been barefoot in the grass, body flushed and trenbling. You lift a hand and brushed the back of your knuckles to inhale the scent on your skin. Owned. But not broken. Claimed yet not lessened. Next time, you'll leave the door open.
— ★ Scry: Ecliptic Umbra + Lyra + Xiao + Alatus + Violet AU
— ★ Genre: Romance + Fluff & Angst + "Don't you dare leave."
— ★ Concept: A wandering entertainer performs at Wangshu Inn
— ★ Words: 3.8k
A/N: Dear, if you hit me, an indecisive author, with an 'or' in the characters, I'M WRITING BOTH OF THEM AHFUEFUIAWEBFAWF Also, this has gotten long-
Not once have you been given the chance to journey past the islands of Inazuma, not when your life is shackled to helping pay off the debt that deprived your family of the same luxury of freedom.
At least not until your mother—owner of the okiya—allowed you to extend these services to the other neighboring regions, for a set duration, of course. You are one, if not the most, sought after geisha in Inazuma, after all.
One mustn’t stay too long out.
Zeta has expressed his want to accompany you and has been rather insistent when he was turned down the first time. He reasons that he knew the lands more and, well, you can’t refuse such an obvious act.
Additionally, there are dangers all over Teyvat.
He mentions that he would’ve stayed if the reliable Kazuha is present to keep you company along the way, but the ronin had departed some time ago, much like the wind once more—unable to be found.
So, with a few more tweaks to your plan, you packed enough necessities to last a couple of weeks, bid goodbye to the okiya’s patrons, and set off to the sea with Zeta in the Alcor.
It’s a good thing that Captain Beidou is a close acquaintance of Thoma, who has secured you a free ride in the vessel. A unique one at that—for it’s a warship.
Though you can’t quite say it’s free, it’s just that the mode of payment isn’t asked through the usual mora.
“We sure are going to miss that lovely voice of yours, Violet,” Beidou pats your shoulder as she sees you off and your raven-haired companion at the docks.
"If I see Kazuha and say that you’ve been aboard for the week, he’d sulk—but hey! His loss he chose to be dropped off early.”
Giving the Captain a bemused smile that has her pinching your cheeks, you pass a glance towards the crew, who is presently unloading cargo. Whenever a sailor passes by, they will wave you goodbye.
“It has been a gratifying journey at the sea, I’ve much to thank you and the rest for allowing us to hitch a ride. I can only hope that I compensated well with my performances.”
Beidou laughs heartily.
“Don’t worry, it may not seem like it, but you’ve eased all spirits here. Now, I don’t want to hold you up, so take care, yeah? If fares are troubling you, don’t hesitate to come ask for me. I’ll be happy to give you the ride back to Inazuma.”
Oh, that’s a splendid exchange.
Beaming at the offer, you shake her hand several recurring times, promising an even grander show to perform when it’s time to head back.
Then, with a momentary adieu to the Captain and the rest of the Crux, you and your friend made your way through the pier.
Plenty of stares greets you along, which you deem is expected, given your exotic fashion and wandering, awed eyes. To your side, Zeta makes sure to tug you by the wrist as you both maneuver through the crowd.
It’s fairly early in the morning, still, yet plenty is already up and about.
“Liyue harbor is a lively place, isn’t it…” you whisper, the excitement of being able to see new and foreign lands making your heart race.
Zeta hums, nodding. “Very much so. If you’d like, we can take trips here during the day—or in your leisure. Whichever works best.”
The implication that you won’t be staying in the city for your stay has you blinking. It isn’t that you aren’t aware of the plans—you discussed it with him and mother—but there seem to be some revisions that you didn’t know.
Catching the gleam of confusion in your [c]s, the man nods again.
“The Yuheng penned us that we’ll be accommodated someplace else, particularly a place where travelers often stop to. It has been thought over that your services will be excellent there.”
The Yuheng of the Qixing? Oh, you’ve heard of her! You wonder how she has gotten to know of your arrival, though.
Your companion falters for a moment as if trying to recall an important piece of information, and when he does, he snaps his fingers and turns with a small smile.
“Ah yes, the Tianquan requested you to perform at either the Jade Chamber or at Yuehai Pavilion at the end of your stay, which falls under the last day of the Lantern Rite Festival,”
That sounds like an important ceremony of sorts…
”She assured that you will be paid handsomely. Also, it appears that she is aware of ‘Sumire’ and the okiya’s merits from word of mouth coming from those who have visited Inazuma… hence why.”
Baffled, you blink. You didn’t know the okiya is that well known overseas… much less you!? Oh—oh, trying to grasp what to feel is becoming quite difficult.
Deeming it better to get some answers first—there is plenty of time to dwell over your astonishment later—you tug Zeta’s arm. “Come now, don’t leave me in the suspense! Where will we be staying for most of the time?”
He chuckles at your eagerness, and answers.
“Wangshu Inn.”
You wake up to the light of the setting sun, consciousness rushing to your limbs as you yawn and stretch.
Some shuffling sounds prompt you to look at the other side of the room, where Zeta is standing after closing his journal.
“I assume you’re well-rested now,” he approaches, “It’s a mistake on my part to continue the trek. You all but blacked out the moment we arrived.”
Flushing at the reminder, you sit, folding the used blanket and endeavoring to tidy yourself up.
It’s true that you are unused to long walks—you underestimated how far the harbor was from the inn—so it’s a no-brainer that you’re quick to fall asleep after entering the lodgings.
Oh, wait, just how long were you out?!
Without a word uttered, you make haste to your bags, searching for the attire you’ve prepared for tonight’s ensemble.
“You’ve an hour and a half before it’s time to go down,” Zeta informs in the middle of your hustling, “It’s your first time performing in public and not in a personal room, yes? Don’t worry too much, it’s all prepared, along with the koto. I’ll be there playing the flute.”
That makes you laugh, standing in content after the triumphant search for the clothes you’ll be wearing.
“I can’t believe that I didn’t know that you play the flute until a week ago, seriously, Zeta, you’re so mysterious.”
He smiles, waving as he leaves the room to give you privacy, but not before responding with, “There’s a lot of things to uncover, [Name].”
The doors click shut and you shake your head in amusement, later hastening to get ready.
Heaven knows how long it takes to prepare oneself alone… ah, and first impressions! You must make good—no, great!
Great first impressions.
With that in mind, you slip out of your casual clothes and into some more appropriate underlayers. Getting into the kimono is a little complicated, but it’s nowhere near the level of successfully securing your obi.
Thankful for the practice you’ve done basically throughout your entire life, you’re already dressed when three quarters strikes and are by then adding the necessary make-up.
You’ve at least have half an hour left by the time you pinned the last of the elaborate hairpins completing the kanzashi. A sigh of relief expels past your ruby red lips.
It’s twilight now. You’ll perform when the sky has turned navy.
You have some more time to spare. Perhaps you can take a gander first, Zeta surely wouldn’t mind.
With this set, you grab your fan and left the room, feeling a little nervous.
It’s just now that the nerves are getting to you, oh dear—you’ve never felt like this before. What are the odds that it’s because this is a completely new place?
Ambling up the stairs towards the balcony, you purse your lips, chilled.
What if I mess up? That won’t be good.
You’re here to ease the weary and fatigued through music and other arts. You cannot afford even the slightest mishap.
Placing a hand over your chest, hoping that it’ll calm down your racing heart, you stand near the railings of the balcony overlooking the—well, you don’t know what the place is called. But it’s beautiful.
A perfect sight it is, really, to see the sun slowly disappear the ridge of mountains afar. It’s.. breathtakingly glorious.
You can feel your nervousness dissipate bit by bit. Who would’ve thought that this place holds such a view?
It almost feels like I can hold the sun, you muse, reaching your hand out and letting your palm capture the last of the warm rays with an awed smile. It’s amazing!
Way too amazing, actually, that in the midst of being struck with wonder, you fail to notice that you have been leaning a bit too far ahead.
Your seconds before doom is only registered when you feel yourself tipping over and you gasp, heart lurching and—
Someone grabs you by the waist and pulls you back a safe distance away. You exhale a shaky breath.
“Careful.”
Ah!
You swivel, the first few sounds of your thanks coming only to pause when you notice that no one is behind you. Or perhaps there was someone.
Because all you’re seeing now is a trail of black smoke and glowing [teal/crimson] embers—and the atmosphere… ah.. that felt a little oppressing. You weren’t imagining things, were you… ?
“There you are,” Zeta’s sudden appearance makes you jump and he blinks, mildly confused, but pays no mind to it. “It’s almost time, shall we go?”
Looking around the balcony to check for any sign of the one who has stepped in to, quite literally, save you, you nod. There’s no sign of anyone..
“… Yes, yes, we shall.”
You’ll have to go back here later in the night and pay your savior a visit...
Xiao
It has gotten even colder now that it’s late in the night.
Your performance, fortunately, went by without any kind of problems!
It’s a little oppressing when you first noted the large audience that’s watching you closely, but the nervousness all fades away the second you pluck the strings of the koto.
Music always is a nice remedy.
And Zeta plays the flute wonderfully in accompaniment.
The people have been lulled into silence as soon as the melody comes to echo, carried by the wind.
Before you know it, they’re asking encore after encore, taken back with astonishment over the new sounding instrument and the song itself. Of course, you provide, answering to their whims and wishes.
The experience is exhilarating as it is tiring, but you aren’t quite done yet.
Climbing back the stairs to the balcony—the moon is already at its peak—with a more refreshed look, having let down your hair from the pins and your face ridden of the slightly excessive makeup, you take in the night air.
You’re relieved that your first performance had gone by smoothly, but it won’t be complete until you manage to thank your savior.
And there, you’re graced by the sight of someone standing at your previous location. Your breath hitches. Ah.. it’s him!
As if he’s able to sense your presence, he takes look over his shoulder, hums, and makes a move to—oh, he’s leaving!?
“Don’t you dare leave.”
That certainly does the trick.
The figure freezes—scoffs, then turns. You can’t help but blink upon seeing him under the moonlight. Hah, and you thought the landscape is beautiful.
Golden eyes are narrowed into a fierce glare, indicative of his anger. If his gritted teeth aren’t enough evidence. “Do you know who you’re talking to? Giving an order so brazenly…”
Initially floored at the exuding authority from his voice alone, your fingers twitch, but you stand vigilant.
There is absolutely no reason to be afraid of someone like him.
“You saved me,” you step closer, “Let me compensate in return.”
“I don’t need payment. Leave.”
He scoffs, fury dispersing for disbelief as he flicks his hand in a motion to get you going off the balcony. You assume this is his place—oh dear, is this place off-limits!?
Wait no, you mustn’t get sidetracked. You can skedaddle later.
“At least let me sing for you? It feels wrong to walk away having done nothing.”
You must’ve been pressing the right buttons to rile him up—or maybe he’s just not fond of any interactions?—because you definitely can feel yourself shrinking under his pressing golden gaze.
Turning your way fully, he reiterates, accentuating each and every single word like one would do to a toddler.
“I told you, I don’t need anything.”
And as you said a while ago, doing nothing mars your conscience, so you have no intentions of leaving at all.
Without a response, you stand still, keeping the eye contact firm as if it’ll help deliver your message along.
The still-unnamed man quirks an eyebrow at this and he once more scoffs. It feels like he’s getting more bewildered by the second, that when he realizes that you’re not going anywhere and won’t be leaving him alone, he clicks his tongue.
“Fine.”
Wait, that worked!
Surprised, you stroll towards him, taking the spot to his left and clearing your throat when he takes a step away to create some distance.
You’re certain that he’ll just up and vanish like he did a while ago, but now that you’re in the wrong, the suddenness has you mildly panicking.
The koto is downstairs, so there will be no musical accompaniment, just your voice alone.
Surely he wouldn’t mind? You glance his way as discreetly as you could be, catching sight of his furrowed brows.
Oh, you mustn’t waste his time…
That said, you open your lips after having decided on a gentle song, allowing the flow of your voice to echo gently into the night.
At first, as you sing, you think you see him easing—the rigidity of his stance going lax.
For some reason, it appears like he’s so—relaxed. The earlier unsettlement on his visage has mitigated, that you can’t help but drag the song out as long as possible.
And when it does end, with the gentle vibrato fading to silence, you take a glimpse of him—only to see his eyes closed. His breathing has slowed.
Is it possible to fall asleep while standing?
Oh, well… you’ve done your part! You can’t help but stare at him, though… he looks ethereal.
You jolt afterward, the warmth of your cheeks being covered by your hands as you swallow. Relax, it isn’t a crime to deem someone handsome.
You’d hate to stalk around on someone’s space, though, so you withdraw, your steps silent.
Just as you’re at the threshold of the entrance, however, his voice comes up again—timid and straightforward.
“It was nice.”
You spin, blinking. “Pardon?”
Did you hear that right?
“Your singing…” the man still has his back turned to you when he repeats and elaborates, somewhat shy, almost. “It’s nice.”
“O-oh, thank you.”
You feel silly that a simple compliment can warm your cheeks, but alas you stand, bustling with pink cheeks in the now awkward atmosphere.
Twiddling with your fingers and biting the inside of your cheeks, you rock on your heels, pondering. Maybe I should… ah, just say it!
“I can come up here tomorrow night again… if you do not mind?”
You said it—dear heavens, you said it.
Goodness, the silence is killing you—you swear if the suspense won’t, the silence will. Ah, isn’t that the same thing in this context? Oh what are you fussing over-
“Do what you wish.”
…
You blink—once, twice, then you’re clapping in excitement. You didn’t think it’ll work out in the end! You’re worrying over for nothing.
“Wonderful! Then, I’ll see you tomorrow!” a pep to your step follows and you swear a hum might just follow if you’re not careful.
This sensation of mirth is new—and so is the fluttering of butterflies. It doesn’t feel unsettling, though, it’s rather… welcomed. You can’t help the smile on your face as you’re starting to leave-
“.. Xiao.”
You pause, looking at the man—but he’s not looking your way.
Xiao…. His name. You swear your cheeks might as well be the color of maple leaves by now as you giggle. “Good night, Xiao.”
The Adeptus opts to only open his eyes when he detects that he is all alone in the balcony, then, breathing out, he stares at his hand.
One that’s been emanating endless black smoke, manifesting his karma.
Now it has been silenced—and he feels at peace.
Xiao turns his head towards the entrance where the girl—he heard that she’s referred to as a ‘geisha’—has gone through.
Tomorrow, hm…
Ah.
It’s a good night, indeed.
Alatus
You weren’t expecting a handful of people—basically everyone—taking interest in your line of work.
How’s it like? What else do you do? How long did you train for? Where is the establishment located?
They’re a grand lot, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t enjoy wasting the night away conversing with pleasant and respectful people.
It genuinely is a time of merriment, and you’re flattered that most chose to stay for a night more instead of heading to the harbor, just to see you in the morning again.
There are endless tales and stories to tell, one mused.
And well—how can you refuse? So that is a plan for the morning to come.
For now, there is one thing you must still do.
The balcony is empty when you arrive, however, looking just like before when you came up during dusk.
You stuck around for a few more minutes, waiting for any sign of the one who has taken you out of harm’s way.
But there’s none.
Expelling a sigh, you turn to leave, dispirited. Maybe it simply was a figment of your imagination, then…
“Don’t you dare leave,”
You pause. Ah! I was right!
Thrilled, you spin on your heels, already smiling in preparation to give the thanks you were unable to utter a while ago—only for that smile to drop in favor of gawking in surprise.
The man stands up to his height after dropping from the higher rooftops, rolling his shoulders and patting his arms and chest—bare, might you add—of dust and dirt.
Dear heavens, he’s-
“I didn’t mean to depart so quickly, but I wasn’t doing so well.”
He’s completely unaware of the way you hide your red face behind your fan, endeavoring to cover the man’s exposed torso so you can simply look him in the eyes.
You aren’t prepared for this- this shocking sight—looking is rude.. !
Your fingers begin to twitch when he arrives in front of you, smiling.
“So, you’re the singer, hm?” the way his leafy green optics are gleaming implies that he must’ve been aware of the reason for your timidity. “Well? Can I put a name to the face?”
He’s not doing anything about it. Oh, this man’s quite the mischievous one, hm?
Gathering your bearings, you answer, “Vi—[Name], it’s [Name].”
You aren’t ‘in persona’ as of the moment… you suppose it’s fine to give your real name and not your alias. Besides, he saved you—the least you could give him is this.
“I see.” He nods, tipping his head towards the railings, a tiny invitation for you to oversee the land with him.
You accept with a nod, walking with the fan still set over your face. He must’ve seen how your face is the same color as his breastplate by now.
Either way, if he’s aware, it’s nice that he’s not commenting or teasing you about it.
You won’t be unable to handle such a tease.
But still, you came here for a reason—not to be idle and be flustered. So, after boosting your confidence and rebuilding your composure in the moments following the silence, you speak up.
“Earlier, you said you weren’t doing good,” you’re finally able to look at him without flushing, “Are you sick, perhaps?”
“One can phrase it that way. And it comes without a cure, so I need to be away whenever it comes up.”
Oh no, a terminal case? That doesn’t seem to be the case. If anything, his circumstance feels a tad bit magical—you’re not too certain. Or maybe you are.
No simple human being can vanish that quickly.
“Is… there a way to soothe it at least? Your symptoms?”
To this question, he hums, leaning forward and resting his arms on the railings, setting his stare down.
It prompts you to peek, noticing that the view allows a small glimpse of the location where you’ve been performing hours before.
“I suppose there are. Your show a while ago helped a lot.”
“Then you mean—music?”
“You can say that.”
You don’t deem it impossible.
After all, music itself is some method of relaxation and healing! Oh, to think that you were able to abate this person’s pain in some way or another eases the weight in your chest.
The more you look at the smiling man’s face, the more you’re inclined to believe that he’s hiding things—hurtful things—under it.
In the end, isn’t it those who smile the most experience the heaviest of woes?
Snapping your fan shut in a burst of vigor, you hold him by the arm, taking him with shock as he looks at you—eyes wide.
“I’ll sing once more then!” you insist, leaning with an insistent flame lighting in your [c]s. “And I’ll sing for you throughout my stay.”
Alatus can’t help but blink in wonder at the act of benevolence.
At first, he thinks that she’s doing this out of the need to fulfill her conscience—and though he might’ve been correct, he now believes that the [c]nette is doing this out of the goodness of her own heart.
Now, it isn’t too rare for humans to have such a warm heart, but motive and self-gratification often precede goodness. But he can somehow feel it in this lady’s aura.
The genuine want to help.
It does its wonder in rendering him silent, giving pivotal seconds to dwell in the fruit of their encounter. It’s nice, truly.
Not only is there the voice to soothe, but the heart to be sincere. Ponders the Yaksha, the ghost of a smile curling his lips up. You’re rather fascinating, aren’t you?
The standstill must’ve snapped her out of her vigorous fire, because then she’s looking at him—then to the arm she had so suddenly grasped, and she’s retreating.
She’s once again opening her fan to hide her pink face, reddening when she hears him chuckling.
Alatus snickers at the sight. Cute.
Then, with a nod, he responds, “That’d be nice.”
He doesn’t mind having a lovely person sing to him night by night.
a/n: ah this was a ride :'DD can't believe I was able to write it in one sitting. the only angsty bit that i managed to add was about Xiao/Alatus trying to keep his karmic debt under wraps before MC came singing, so i thought the angst is a little nonexistent.
so i will add a short follow-up pertaining to MC's departure! the angst won't be too heavy, but it'll definitely be there~
(I was imagining MC singing this song, please, it's simply- fitting-)
