With the closure of Gnostic Hymns comes the need for an update on the future of this muse and blog. This lyricist has made the easy executive decision to continue business as usual for her (and hopefully your) enjoyment. (Yes, it took this long to get this post out, task paralysis is no joke.) For those interested in the details, what does this look like?
🕊 Sunday will remain an active member of the general Gnostic Hymns Tumblr group. He will not be dropping any threads unless the muns involved specify otherwise; for a list of ongoing threads, please check the latest activity result on his blog. He is open to both new threads, ask memes, any events the members are inclined to host (such as Lantern Rite), and so on. He is also open to revisiting previous mission boards for those who wanted to participate in certain prompts but were unable to do so with him at the time. If this lyricist has the capacity for it, he may even host original commission boards for those who wish to partake in some more structured prompts.
🕊 This blog will not be opening to the indie scene. As it feels safer to work within the boundaries of the GH group, Sunday will stay closed and affiliated for the foreseeable future. There may come a time much further on when he will eventually open to indie interaction, but this lyricist currently has no interest in doing so. On the other hand, those who were here during GH's first year or so may recall her Alhaitham, who, should his muse be revived, and in the interest of not overstepping the current Alhaitham, has a far greater chance of transitioning to indie upon his reawakening. If this does come to pass, he will continue to follow general GH guidelines regardless of his affiliation with the group, for ease of operations. (Should GH members feel comfortable doing so, they will be welcome to interact with him, but again, only in the event that he does get revived.)
🕊 Despite the upcoming abolishment of activity checks, this blog will continue to meet and exceed activity requirements, as well as posting check results, though now mainly for housekeeping instead of tracking talent points gained. This lyricist is well aware that her AuDHD often does not facilitate timely responses with relation to deadlines, which is why this guideline will remain in place so as to encourage more effective and frequent response times. In hopes of keeping the roleplay active and flowing, this lyricist will endeavor to contact the appropriate mun if she has not received a reply to a thread after three months. While this may seem like a very long grace period, this lyricist hopes it accommodates both her and other muns' needs and so will also attempt to abide by their activity guidelines.
🕊 Since no threads will be dropped, Sunday will retain all the experiences and connections he gained while in GH unless a mun specifies otherwise. His blog will continue to be updated with the appropriate lore and information upon new version releases to the best of this lyricist's abilities (yes, as of this post this lyricist has not yet played 3.8, she's been getting caught up in Genshin and just finished 6.2). In addition, all of his rules, specifically those regarding shipping, will remain the same, with the added requirement of the muse in question coming exclusively from GH. This lyricist is happy to discuss muse compatibility should a mun feel their muse has enough of the right chemistry with Sunday to consider a ship with him!
🕊 For communication, this lyricist can still be reached via Tumblr IMs.
As the closure of GH comes at a rather inconvenient time for this lyricist, she and Sunday will persist in participating in the group and hope that they can provide all other muns with an enjoyable roleplay experience henceforth. Thank you for your support, and we'll see you on the dash!
After spending like a week babbling to a friend about my OctoGoblin feels, I figure I may as well share them with everyone here. I’ve developed my own little headcanon backstory and I love it.
I was originally going to wait and maybe write some of these in fiction form but I’m recovering from an aggravated head injury and I have no idea when I’ll get back to writing properly.
This is not spoiler-free, as I go through the first two Raimi films and No Way Home. This also touches a little on triggering content, so read at your own discretion.
As I said in a previous post, I’ve been fascinated by the news Otto and Norman were college rivals. Even without that bit of info, they did seem to have a history in No Way Home. Like beyond an “I knew about you through the news” situation.
If they were college rivals, I like the idea that maybe their rivalry started as friendly, and overtime grew more serious and heated as sexual tension stirred between them. I think they acted on it once - probably late at night after some kind of celebration or maybe to relieve stress during finals. In my head, Norman is a closeted gay man due to a choatic/abusive upbringing (borrowing from his comic history for this.) He couldn’t handle the shame/anxiety and Noped the fuck off that train.
Otto is bi and more open to exploring so he was really hurt by this; as a result, their rivaly spiraled into something really nasty. Otto eventually had to cut Norman out of his life for his own peace of mind. Eventually, he fell in love with his future wife Rosie, whom he also met in college. I like the headcanons I’ve seen floating around where all three knew each other - kinda like a Peter, Harry and MJ situation in the first Spidey film.
So years go by and Norman, who is bad at being vulnerable and articulating his feelings, follows the traditional narrative of marrying a woman and having a kid because that’s what’s expected by a certain economic class (at least, that’s what he tells himself.) He’s unhappy and depressed but pushes it down by focusing on work. Obviously, this backfires as that approach leads to divorce and a distant relationship with his son. Otto, meanwhile, thinks Norman’s wealth and ego have gone to his head.
Fastforward to the first Raimi film - Norman takes the enhancement serum, develops the Goblin personality (who I think might’ve always been there in some form to help him survive his childhood) and people start dying. Towards the end of the movie, things are really getting out of hand - Norman, desperate and realizing he’s losing the fight for the driver’s seat if you will, calls the only other brilliant mind he thinks can help him: Otto Octavius. He doesn’t make it very far in his explanation - Goblin, feeling threatened, takes over and forces him to hang up.
Otto knows something is wrong though - Norman NEVER lets his walls down and that man sounded terrified over the phone. Otto reluctantly breaks his no contact and heads over there.
Only it’s Goblin who answers, composed and cold as ever. He kinda forcefully insists nothing is wrong and spews a bunch of verbal barbs to ensure any door between them stay shut.
So the movie ends, Norman dies and Otto hears about it on the news. It’s a shock that really hurts, but it also raises suspicions. He hasn’t forgotten about that night and I think he starts trying to unravel the mystery of what happened to Norman. Befriending his son is part of that.
I think it haunts him that maybe he missed something but also he’s angry and conflicted about being shut out and confronted with all those what-ifs and unresolved feelings. Not sure if he attends Norman’s funeral...
Then his own accident occurs in Spider-man 2: Rosie dies and he finds himself in a similar situation to Norman (alone, reputation damaged, miserable.) I’m sure Otto read about Oscorp’s goings-on in the first movie.
Shortly after this, he’s pulled into the MCU.
I still don’t know how deep Otto was in solving this mystery so i’m not sure if seeing the Goblin on the bridge in full gear is what finally put the pieces together, or if he knew about it beforehand. Like I said in a previous post, I’m pretty darn sure Peter and Harry kept Norman’s double life to themselves.
Anyway, when Norman and Otto actually SEE each other again, Otto is in full defense mode because a) holy shit it cannot be Norman, he died and b) Norman looks, well, homeless and half out of his mind. Which, despite the voices in Otto’s own head, he notices.
Then you have poor Norman who is scared to trust anything around him, including himself, but Otto is a familiar face and I think he’s so worn down at this point he does tentatively (and a little desperately) try to reach out to him--like a lost puppy needing comfort.
Maybe they try to talk a few times, and maybe even get somewhere in Happy’s apartment, but it’s awkward and they’re both so different and now Otto is the distant one because how can Norman act like everything is okay? Even so, he’s also concerned because wow this is not the same man who was once a CEO. Maybe Norman tries to confide in Otto about any worries he has about “his darker half” but Otto is so distracted and miserable, he doesn’t really listen. A lot has happened since that phone call in 2002.
I wonder if Norman talks to Peter as well...they were working on the inhibitor chip together, after all. Maybe he shares a little bit about the Otto he remembers </3
Then Peter installs the chip, Otto’s mind clears and the Goblin wakes up and then everything makes sense. And now Otto has this dilemma of doing the right thing while trying to save Norman’s soul at the same time. He knows what it’s like to be broken and haunted by demons.
Like, where did he go after the disaster at Happy’s Apartment? Did he try to feign his dark side a little longer to keep tabs on the others? Did he go after Norman specifically? There are so many possibilities.
Maybe when they get back to their own time, they can help heal each other, depending on where they end up...
I’m still working on that part. Is Norman sent back to 2002 and Otto to 2004? Are they sent back to the same year since they established a connection through the multiverse? So many different ways to explore this...
I’ve been snooping around the fandom and I kinda like the idea that the Goblin personality doesn’t actually go away. Kinda like, while Norman is no longer a super soldier, the damage to his mind is done. So now he’s gotta digest that and learn to live with it and hopefully rehabilitate his Goblin half. Maybe Otto can help with that - he’s seen more of Norman now than anyone else in the Raimiverse.
Like I said, I’ll have to think about the aftermath a little more, but I thought I’d share what I have. I haven’t shipped anyone in the MCU (multiverse or otherwise) in years, so this caught me by surprise, but I love these two characters and I love all of these possibilities...
Feel free to tell me what you think! Just uh, please be nice ^^; we all have to coexist on this platform.
At long last I have finished Yoru’s biography sheet. It’s a little on the longer side but I’m proud of it.
Anyone checking in for the first time, Gesshoku Yoru is my shinigami OC for the anime/manga Full Moon wo Sagashite.
Shoutout to @starspatter for helping me along the way <3
Trigger warning: mentions of depression and suicide
Background:
Yoru exists in a prequel story to both the manga and anime for Full Moon wo Sagashite. This prequel contains a slightly different origin for Shinigami. Instead of ‘hatching’ as adults, those who end their lives reawaken as children again and begin the early stages of their training from a young age. They are called “Fledglings.”
Physical Description:
A girl of average height and build with black hair and eyes to match. As a child she wears her hair in two buns. Long bangs parted to the left. She dresses in Victorian-style children’s dresses that are dark (usually black but sometimes blue) in color. Wears either mary janes or small boots with bat wings. Also wears a bat hairclip.
As an adult her hair is short, though she still has her long bangs. They part to the left. Her clothing style is still gothic, but purple and black but takes inspiration from steampunk as well. No gears but lots of buckles and frills. Sleeveless gloves with lace around the wrists. A black and blue corset with belts and a layered dress that’s short in front and flares out in the back. Wears boots that come up to below the knee. Also wears a mini top hat over one of her bat ears, decorated with a purple five-petal flower that resembles the “flower of forgetfulness” in the anime. Her hat also has two feathers: a black and purple plume and a smaller black feather. Again, since she works in the pediatrics unit Yoru has small black bat ears; one is visible and one is covered by her hat.
Unlike other Shinigami, Yoru has bat wings.
Yoru’s updated design:
Personality:
Human – shy, crippled by anxiety that often led her to choose the withdrawn/polite response over expressing herself. Tried to embrace her interests and gothic fashion-style but grew discouraged overtime, feeling much like an outcast. Had no close friends so relied heavily on her family for support.
Shinigami – as a fledgling, Yoru was very shy for quite a while. Meroko (and Yoru’s eventual budding feelings for her) pushed her to express herself and embrace the other Fledglings as a new family. Takuto joining also helped; Yoru saw a lot of herself early on in the quiet Fledgling and went out of her way to (politely) include him the way Meroko did her.
As an adult doubts and depression follow Yoru around like a dark cloud. Her close-knit support system has strained over the years, though she remains on good terms with the other Shinigami. Her relationship with Meroko grows painful as well as her feelings were never reciprocated, not that she ever told her.
____
Relationships:
Shinigami
Meroko – Yoru’s first real friend, her best friend and one she eventually falls in love with. Calls her “Mero-chan” as a child and occasionally in adulthood. Meroko remains in large part unaware of Yoru’s feelings. Though she ends up forgetting Yoru she left the strongest impression, maintaining a sensitive heart. Meroko cries for reasons she in part doesn’t understand when Izumi gifts her a new outfit. In the anime she reunites with Yoru twice: once unaware during her quest for the Flower of Forgetfulness and again, officially, as an angel.
Izumi – A rival for Meroko’s affection. She considers him a friend in adulthood. Isn’t aware Izumi knows of her feelings for Meroko. He sympathizes with her, understanding her dissatisfaction and quest for answers. Witnesses Yoru’s final moments. Her disappearance makes an impression and leaves him cynical and even antagonistic about lasting love of any kind. He’s also the only one who remembers her and this may be in part due to his own retained memories from his human life. He tries in his own ways to get their friends to remember, going so far as to give Meroko an outfit largely inspired by Yoru’s. His nickname for her is “Yo-run.”
Takuto – As the youngest Fledgling of the group Yoru has a soft spot for him and at times dotes him like a big sister would. Is unaware he has a crush on her. In adulthood she finds him easiest to relate to as he triggers the least negativity in her and struggles with his own obstacles as a Shinigami-in training. Nonetheless her presence is painful to him as he still holds a waning candle for her and may suspect why she never returned his own feelings.
Sheldan – The head of Pediatrics and the teacher/primary caretaker of the young Fledglings. Yoru is intimidated by him at first and treats him with a distant respect in adulthood until she starts investigating her human life. Grows secretive around him like the others and paranoid/angry as well. She wonders why he assigned her pediatrics and resents his attitude towards her failures.
Mystere – Yoru doesn’t know Mystere but she has heard of her, though not by name. As the Goddess of Death Yoru considers the idea of her eerie, mystic and intimidating. Towards the end of her life blames her along with Sheldan, holding her responsible in part for their suffering as Shinigami purely because of her status.
___
Humans:
Mother – Yoru’s relationship with her mother changed day to day. Both loved one another very much and Yoru had many fond childhood memories of spending time with her. However, Yoru’s mother was a more traditional woman and did not always approve of Yoru’s peculiar interests and fashion choices. That said, they continued to bond over a love of holidays and holiday parties.
Father – Yoru’s relationship with her father was benign but empty: he spent much of her childhood working so she didn’t see him often and as an adult she was away. Her father largely expressed his love for his children in the form of material gifts.
Little brother – Yoru and her little brother did not always get along just like most siblings. That said she was fond of him and more often than not doted on him the way her parents did her. There were at times some form of jealousy: being the eldest by quite a few years sometimes she felt they favored him over her. When this occurred she’d tell herself that wasn’t true: her parents cared deeply for her, they just showed support in different ways because she was older.
Kouyama Mitsuki – One might argue Yoru’s relationship with the other Shinigami foreshadowed their meeting and helping Mitsuki. Her name parallel’s Yoru’s surname: “Full Moon” and “Lunar Eclipse.” (or ‘eating the moon’ in Japanese.) They never officially meet but one might argue in the anime they did unofficially as Mitsuki watched Meroko’s journey into the underworld and sang along with her...
____
Life before becoming a Shinigami:
Gesshoku Yoru was born in the late 1960s. She was the eldest daughter of an upper-middle class Japanese family. She had one younger brother. Her father worked for a corporate company and he and his family were well-liked by their community. They would throw extravagant holiday parties that Yoru looked forward to every year. The family was close within itself as well and Yoru’s parents doted on her and her brother. Yoru’s father occasionally traveled for work and sometimes brought his family with him. When Yoru was a young teenager she accompanied him to England. Already interested all things dark and spooky she took a liking to the budding gothic fashion and took this interest back with her to Japan.
While the family was close, however, Yoru had difficulty maintaining relationships with her peers. Many of her friendships felt superficial, too polite and/or distant. Yoru suspected the friends she had hung around due to her parents’ job and money. They certainly weren’t interested in any of her passions, least of all her dark/gothic fashion, finding it eccentric and a little creepy.
Yoru lived with her family until young adulthood where she eventually moved into her own apartment. Her parents encouraged this and had money saved for her to live on while she made a start in the world. Yoru lived by herself, further isolating her from potential relationships. Far enough away she couldn’t visit home casually, Yoru looked forward to the family parties: the few times she felt she really belonged.
During the summer of her first year on her own Yoru’s family died while on vacation. The vacation home they were renting caught fire. This devastated Yoru: she’d been looking forward to the yearly Halloween party more than anything else. To make matters worse, shortly after their deaths the company her father worked for was charged with fraud, of which her father participated. When word of this got out the scandal stained her family name and those whom Yoru remained in contact with cut her out completely.
Yoru took her own life early on Halloween. Desperate to bring back her warm memories in some way Yoru tried to host her family’s Halloween party anyway, throwing herself into decorating (as best she could) and sending out invitations. No one RSVP’d. Distraught and alone she visited her empty home that night, hoping guests would show up anyway. They didn’t. Authorities found her the next day, crumpled on the steps in the front room. She was twenty-one.
Cause of death: an overdose of sleeping pills she’d been taking nightly following the death of her family.
____
Life as a Shinigami:
Yoru hatched as an amnesiac fledgling, a little girl of six or seven. She was greeted by Sheldan and the tiny Meroko Yui. Yoru took a lot of convincing to come out of her shell—literally and figuratively. Eventually the two brought Yoru to their headquarters where she was given a room and new clothes. Though she wouldn’t remember why, Yoru took a liking to the bat accessories as well as her gothic-victorian dresses. She took a liking to Meroko too. The pink-haired girl was her first earnest, honest friend and that planted the seed for a crush that would one day develop into unrequited love. Sometime before Izumi showed up both grew a tiny pair of wings: feathered for Meroko and bat for Yoru. Yoru was self-conscious about her wings from the start but Meroko encouraged her to embrace them (they suited her well!)
Yoru uses her surname for two reasons: as a fledging, her fascination with western culture lingered. Also, the scandal and trauma tied to her family name is what ultimately led to her death. Sheldan decided it might trigger her memory, so chose her given name for her instead.
Yoru and Meroko were there to greet Izumi, alongside Sheldan, although he didn’t warm up to them right away. Rather Izumi grew to be a pain in Yoru’s side, particularly when he started teasing/picking on/favoring Meroko. He even picked a nickname for her (‘Me-chan’) which to Yoru seemed like a variation of the one she’d given Merko.
Sometime later Sheldan took another Fledgling Shinigami under his wing: a little boy named Takuto. Quiet and smaller than the others he reminded Yoru of herself. She befriended Takuto and tried to make him feel welcome. Subconsciously he also reminded her of her brother and slipping into the big sister role again shed the rest of her shell. Soon enough Takuto shed his own shyness; he never grew wings, however and Yoru found this odd.
As the four Fledglings grew older Sheldan assigned them “junior” missions, pairing them off to see who worked best together. Yoru and Takuto struggled during this period and so when they started working on legitimate missions both trainees were permanently assigned to their more successful peers. Yoru worked with Meroko and Izumi with Takuto.
Yoru did not find success as a Shinigami: her bat wings and ears frightened children; some protested going with her and it in turn caused trouble for Sheldan. This upset Yoru greatly who wanted to succeed. Overtime she started resenting her appearance and slowly obsessed over why she grew bat wings instead of feathers. She began wondering if the answer lay in her human life. Her friends warned her to let it go before it became dangerous…but Yoru’s repeated almost-failures swayed her over their concerns. Yoru in part didn’t mind any would-be consequences; at this point she realized for sure however much Meroko loved her it would never be in a romantic way. That hurt more than any lost soul under her duty.
Yoru at first hid her investigation from her friends; Izumi was the first to clue into what she was doing. He didn’t confront her at first as he had his own secrets. When Yoru’s memories start to came back she hid this as well, along with what was happening to her.
Sometime before Yoru’s death Takuto was sent back to training. After she disappeared Izumi became Meroko’s replacement partner. Out of respect for Yoru and perhaps disgust/disappointment no one else remembered her he kept Meroko at a distance for a long time. Eventually he asked Sheldan to dissolve their team and Meroko became Takuto’s partner.
Though Yoru never received a definite answer by the end of her life she suspected she has bat wings for three reasons:
1) she’s always been interested in the spooky/gothic aesthetic and in some ways felt defined by it.
2) her human memories and sense of self revolved strongly around her parents’ holiday parties. She was looking forward to their Halloween party before they died and left the world mourning it alongside her family.
3) She died on Halloween.
When all of Yoru’s memories returned she conceded to becoming a ghost: there was nothing for her in the human world, nothing in the way of love and no career as a Shinigami. She intended to die alone but Izumi followed her and towards the very end of her life made his presence known. They held one last conversation and made some semblance of peace with one another.
Yoru’s strong feelings—both of love and pain--prevented her from turning into a traditional ghost. Instead her soul rooted itself in the underworld, transforming into the Flower of Forgetfulness which greatly resembled the flower on her hat. Her spirit lurked around it and her suffering manifested itself as dangerous obstacles for any who tried to retrieve it. True to her last name, the flower bloomed only during the Lunar Eclipse…and true to the flower, her childhood friends and supervising Shinigami lost their memories of her. Nonetheless, she left such a strong impression on them, a sense of something warm and lost and it might be why they rally around a girl named after the full moon.
In the anime storyline, when Meroko seeks out the Flower of Forgetfulness Yoru’s wounded spirit attacks her, trying to push her and the painful memories she triggers away. With Mitsuki’s help, Meroko prevails and when she plucks the flower free she frees Yoru’s soul as well. Picking the flower also restores everyone’s memories of Yoru although they would not realize it until sometime later…
Yoru’s spirit subconsciously follows Meroko to the human world: before the now-angel!Meroko flies away she spots her childhood friend, in tattered clothes and without wings or bat ears. Because she is an angel now Meroko can see ghosts (traditional shinigami cannot.) Meroko and Yoru run towards each other, tears in their eyes. They embrace and apologize—Yoru for losing faith in her best friend and Meroko for forgetting her.
Meroko uses her new angel magic to give Yoru a new outfit: black and gothic but mirroring Meroko’s new look. She takes Yoru’s hand and the two leave the world together.
Person A doesn’t talk much, but sometimes they shyly whisper cute/kind things into Person B’s ear whenever they think Person B needs it.
A prequel drabble where everything is the same except the shinigami hatch as children. Took some creative world-building liberties but I kinda like how this turned out…even if it got away from me.
Gesshoku Yoru never cared much for Izumi Rio. His smug eyes and cold shoulder that more often than not came together when he spoke gave him an aura of arrogance that tried her nerves to no end. As a fellow shinigami-in-training she was bound to consider him an alley bu that did not mean she had to like him. If Izumi desired so intently to adopt the role of Ice Prince she’d sweep through his frost in a blaze of fire. She could do it, too, and came very close to it more than once. All she’d need was one word, one concrete consented affirmation and she’d burn him so badly he’d melt into a damn puddle. For while indeed, Yoru did not care for Izumi, he’d never personally–or intentionally–harmed her. His preferred target was a mutual friend, Yoru’s best friend: the shinigami-in-training know as Meroko Yui.
For whatever reason, the pink-haired girl fell hook, line and sinker into Izumi’s web, pleading with him to open up, let her in and show him what it meant to love. How this happened Yoru still didn’t understand: she remembered their Second Childhood, budding Fledglings with all the Afterlife ahead of them. The Boss often paired them off, all four of them, to complete various tasks meant to test their strengths and weaknesses. Whenever Izumi worked with Meroko he deliberately antagonized her. When paired with Yoru, however, Meroko seemed to thrive. Ironic perhaps, for visually the two stood very far apart: Meroko with her long flowing hair and frilly sundresses while Yoru preferred black lace and corsets. Her hair, cropped short, matched her style and color-scheme perfectly. So did her wings.
Yoru’s wings were unique among shinigami and spoke more for her friendship with Meroko than anything else: black and leathery like a bat’s, she’d been frightened and self-conscious when they first grew in. Meroko didn’t see it that way. ‘I like them,’ she’d said with a bright and earnest grin. ‘They suit you perfectly.’
Yoru knew what it meant to love after that. Knew far better than Izumi Rio. She would never and had never treated her best friend with anything less than trust and affection…and because she did she sat silently now, one hand on Meroko’s shoulder as the other girl vented her frustrations.
“I don’t understand that Izumi,” Meroko sighed, scrubbing a hand through her bangs. “I’ve worked so hard to prove my feelings to him but he keeps rejecting me…am I doing something wrong?” She turned to Yoru with sad eyes. Yoru blushed and looked away, looked out over the ruins stretched for miles below them. They often came here, to the ancient remains of their otherworldly home: it was quiet, private, any and all residence long ago migrating to the newer and updated section. They didn’t always choose the Tower for their perch, but after a long day a gentle breeze and serene view offered comfort. At least Yoru thought so. Loose strands of hair tickled her cheek. She pushed them back and sighed.
“Yoru?” Meroko asked.
“Sorry,” Yoru said. her heart fluttered and not for the first time she wondered how such a feat were possible: they were (or would be) angels of death. Death being the key word. They had no reason for a beating heart…all the same, something deep in Yoru’s chest stirred around Meroko, a something she guessed tormented her friend, now. Why, she asked herself, as she had so often in the past. Why Izumi? She didn’t and wouldn’t say it aloud. Not tonight. Tonight Meroko needed softer, kinder words…no matter how much they might hurt to say. Yoru let go of her friend’s shoulder, instead winding an arm around both. She leaned into the half-hug, her head against Meroko’s.
“I’m sorry, Mero-chan,” Yoru whispered, using the Second Childhood nickname she’d given her. The flighty thing beneath Yoru’s ribs soured and bubbled like acid. No I’m not, she thought. He’s not worth your broken heart. This, too, she kept to herself, swallowing the bitter taste and searching for a sweeter followup. “You know Izumi’s always been a little distant,” said Yoru at last. “He might just need longer to clue in.”
Meroko sniffed. “You think so?”
Yoru didn’t answer right away. A heavy, suffocating feeling poured over her heart like quicksand. She sighed again. “Some people take a while to realize the best thing for them is already by their side.”
They slipped into another silence after that, a silence that held until the last rays of ethereal daylight disappeared from view. Finally, Meroko sat up straighter.
“Thank you, Yoru,” she said with a small smile. “You always know what to say.”
Yoru tried to smile back. “That’s what friends do.”
“Not all friends,” Meroko said and as she did warmth filled her face. “Just you. You’re more than a friend. You’re my best friend.”
Yoru thanked the darkness for concealing the burn across her cheeks. Best friend. Always, only the best friend. I’m better for you, she thought, almost pleaded as the other girl at last got to her feet. Meroko stretched her arms above her head, her wings doing the same on either side. Some of that vigor, that spark so prevalent in Meroko returned to her eyes and when she rose into the air Yoru’s own heart started breaking.
I’d do anything for you, Mero-chan. Why does it have to be Izumi?
“Mephisto!” He hears his name before he sees her; a flurry of auburn and molten butterflies hurtling towards him. Alarm bubbles in his throat, bursting into a startled grunt before he can call out. Then he’s got a face full of crumbling crystal and pain rockets through his nose and forehead and suddenly something’s raining down from above—
The pieces come together with a disorienting click. Mephisto bolts upright, hissing as the world around him swerves. Eyes squeeze shut, grappling at the ground for stability. The action jogs his memory and his vibrant-green gaze snaps open again. Praxina.
“Praxina!” He cries, scrambling to his knees. Stomach lurches, knocking his heart into his throat. No. No no no where is she? Then he sees it: that same, flustered flurry of reddish-brownish, identical hair color to his own. Fanning amidst chunks of glowing rubble, beyond the ledge that has become their battleground. “Praxina!”
Praxina turns her head, blue eyes wide and dazed. Fly, he begs, and tries to say it aloud, but that battlefield tilts and he clutches his head and suddenly kneeling feels impossibly difficult to maintain. Nonetheless, his eyes remain on his sister; just as wide and glittering with fear. Come on, fly, get out of there. It’s just crystal, after all. Glowing crystal, but nothing his twin couldn’t escape. How long had they’d been chasing the cursed princesses? And how many of those times had they narrowly gotten away? These crystal casualties should be a—
He swears he hears her gasp. Hears her say his name a final time. Her eyes, however, scream louder than words ever could: ‘Mephisto, I’m sorry, forgive me, I don’t want to leave you.’
Those eyes are the last thing he sees before the world explodes in violent purple light. He’s thrown to the ground for a second time, landing hard on his front. Copper erupts in the back of his throat, but it’s hardly a second thought. Praxina. Praxina, no!
“No!” Agony lances up and down his body, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t care about anything but the very real possibility his sister might be—
Dizziness strikes again, tag-teaming the rattling throb inside his chest. Just as suddenly as he manages to stand, footing disappears, and then he’s falling, falling the same way Praxina had, hurtling helplessly towards the ground, below. His sister’s name passes through his mind before the world blacks out.
When he comes to, everything hurts. A grueling, all-encompassing pain that sits on his body like one of their monsters gone astray.
Their monsters. Their.
“Praxina…” Mephisto moans, sagging into the earth. Head dips and presses against a bed of grass, dusted in fine crystal but otherwise unblemished by chaos. At any other given day, he’d make some ridiculous comment about the princesses finding it surprising, even hopeful…but this wasn’t any given day, and he had no one to joke with.
Not anymore.
Tears fuzz his vision, and then they’re falling, disappearing into the mossy green. The princesses. Those damned, righteous idiots always won in the end! And for what? To add another stupid little gem to Ephedia’s crown? He and his sister were living, breathing Ephedians! Did they ever stop to think about that? No, he thinks, slamming a fist into the ground. The action immediately triggers nauseating pain. He stops, choking. No they didn’t.
He isn’t sure how long he lays there. How long it takes for his body to numb and dull to hollow resignation. For the tears to dry and stick to his cheeks; visible one moment, disappeared and gone the next, its only trace a raw and very real aching heart. Just like Praxina. He doubts very much anyone on this cursed world would remember her death, if they’d even notice it at all.
Right hand forms another fist, joined this time by its partner. Though sore and strained, they hold together. “It can’t end like this…” Princess Iris and her candy-colored crew could not get away without punishment. Can’t they? Countered a miserable voice—his own, dredged with exhaustion. You were barely victorious as a team. What will you do alone?
It’s a question he doesn’t want to answer. Praxina would know. Praxina always knew what to do when he failed to conjure a solution. Praxina isn’t here. No, no she wasn’t, and that was the entire point. Mephisto was on his own. No direction, no temporary allies to rely on…nothing but beaten bones and a gnawing, rattled yearning for vengeance.
Vengeance can be yours, child.
What?
Mephisto looks up, a sharp twinge seizing his neck. He ignores it, a colder, more prominent feeling condensing in his stomach.
“Banes…?”
The beast stands before him, dark fire rolling across its back. The same flame coils around its tail, crackling and swinging methodically, behind. Beady white eyes bore into Mephisto’s weary greens, almost challenging, daring him to ask: ‘did I speak? Can a creature as I do such a thing?’
Ultimately, Mephisto decides it doesn’t matter. Not right now. If Banes is here, that means one of two things. Either Gramorr requires backup (although why he’d need Mephisto’s help with the crown poisoned is a question in itself), or—
…or the war was over.
As though reading his mind, Banes pushes something forward with its massive paw. Mephisto’s breath catches. For a split second, the sound around him drains and fizzles out.
“Gramorr’s mask…” He murmurs. So it is true. The old Sorcerer had met his match and left nothing but a fragment behind. A fragment and Banes, he thinks, looking to the creature again. That soulless stare hasn’t wavered. ‘Take it,’ they seem to say, encourage, accompanied by a low and rumbling growl. ‘Take it and show them what you can do.’
He wonders what his sister might think of all this. What she’d do if she could see him, now. Would she urge him on, as Banes did? Chastise his hesitation? Steal it for herself?
The wounded teen pushes himself to his knees. One arm stiffens, holding him upright. The other reaches for the mask. Dark energy crackles and stings his fingertips. He winces, but doesn’t pull away. Praxina saved my life. Maybe she’d have done the same, right now. Mephisto sits back on his heels. He turns the fragment over and puts it on.
They’re celebrating, as he knew they would be. Dazzling enthusiasm oozes like a harmonic pulse around the castle walls: all vibrant, all made up of those same, sickening blues and oranges and pinks.
He hates that color most of all.
With a snarl, Mephisto’s visible eye glares hard at Ephedia’s grand empire. His sister hated the color, too. So bright and cheery and full of nonsensical promises like joy and love and better tomorrows. Does it look like I’m doing better, Iris? Is this what they mean by happily ever after? Dark energy spirals up his ankles, writhing and twisting like snakes.
“Guess we’ll find out.” He mutters darkly, then disappears in a puff of black and green smoke.
Oh, if Praxina could hear the way they gasp his name, she’d finally be proud of him. He stands in the center of the throne room, so different from the shadowy cavern Gramorr had called home. Vibrant. Colorful. Glittering like sunlight through the towering, stained glass windows on either side.
Sickening, all of it.
Mephisto steps forward, hair grown longer swaying in front of his face. His outfit, too, has been altered under this new power: inky black solidified in armor, only color his glowing serpent emblem. They follow him, too, the snakes, looming shadows hovering behind his heels—seamless, colorless, save for their striking green eyes.
“Mephisto…?” Ventures a quivering voice. Head snaps towards the source, but he’s already identified the fool. Pretty-perfect Iris stands in the center of a crowd, hand clutched to her chest and crystal blues nearly bulging from her head. Good, he thinks with a sneer. Be terrified. See how it feels.
“Surprised to see me?” He laughs, a cold, hollow laugh that bounces around the room. “Don’t be. I know you only care about yourself.”
“Myself?” Iris echoes, as if she can’t believe he’d dare tarnish her with accusation. On cue, bodyguards blue and orange flank her sides.
“Don’t you say such things about Iris!” Orange—sorry—Auriana cries. Mephisto’s jaw tightens. Black humor jitters and threatens to give. Remember Praxina. He does. If nothing and no one else, he always will.
“Why not.” Mephisto spits, almost hisses. “It’s true, isn’t it?” Gaze darts back to Iris. He raises an arm. His reptilian entourage rear their heads. “You, all of you, so bent on ridding Gramorr from this world; where were you when my sister needed help!”
Blue stiffens now, baring teeth. Before she can speak, the aggressive purple one pipes up. “Are you serious? You’re the ones always terrorizing us!”
“Carissa, don’t.” Warns Iris with an outstretched arm. She reels it back in a moment later.
“I’m really sorry about what happened to Praxina.” Iris says, and it’s with such a sad earnestness he almost believes her. Almost. But he’s been through this before, been down this road and seen the closed door on the other side. There’s no place for truce among them. Not now, not ever.
“Sure you are.” He barks, and now it’s his turn to raise an arm. “You’re so sorry, you threw me a pity-party. Oh wait! No you didn’t.” The serpents dissolve as he speaks; they reappear around the royal family, mouths open and fangs bared. A silent cry of panic circles the crowd.
“Mephisto, stop this!” Auriana again. “You can’t blame us for your sister’s death.” He ignores her, crossing closer.
“I can, and I’m going to.” He growls; as before, it sounds like a hiss. “You’re going to pay for what you did. All of you.” He adds, just in case it weren’t clear. Auriana steps back. Talia stiffens. Then something happens he doesn’t expect. The king places a hand on his daughter’s delicate shoulder. With his other, he draws his sword.
“Stand down, evil one.” He declares; it’s just cliché enough to evoke an inkling of a smirk.
“You really underestimate me.” Mephisto flicks his wrist, summoning a dark cloud around the blade until it’s not a blade, anymore. The king gasps, dropping a newly-formed smoke-colored snake. Mephisto bends his wrist again, and the creature dissolves.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” He explains, bathing in the undivided, utterly terrified attention at his command. That inkling slides further across his face, coaxing and curling his upper lip. “I want you to suffer. And I know just where to start.”
He looks to Iris again, then casts a deliberate glance towards the sky. Three, two, one…
“What…what are you implying?”
Of all incompetent aggravations. “Earth!” Snaps Mephisto, expression souring again. “I’m going to attack Earth.”
If they notice this slip-up they make no indication, too distracted, it appears, by his startling announcement. Of course they are. He’d just sworn revenge against their precious, mortal loved ones. Given them a taste of helplessness. Promised a lifetime of irreparable, haunting grief.
“You can’t do this.” says Talia, fists balled at her sides. Mephisto’s visible eye narrows.
“Just watch me.”
The spindly, snaky forms disperse from the group, merging with the floor until they find their place around him, again. “Heed my warning, princesses. From this point on, the blood is on your hands.”
The final word trails off with that same, feral hissing. With one last, long look, he steps back among his shadowy friends. They follow his lead soon after, compiling together until all that remains is one massive, seamless serpent. Toxic light skitters across its form like lightning; the creature lingers, as Mephisto had done, then barrels forward and through the back wall.
As it does, the ghost of a snarl not its own echoes behind.
He untangles himself some ways away, panting and puffing but grinning like a loon. Or however the earth phrase went. Earth. Mephisto touches his mask. A planet unprotected, ready and waiting for his murderous hand. Our murderous hand. He throws a glance at Banes, seated between two jagged boulders. The old beast flicks its tail.
autumn is in full swing, and while that usually means rainy milder weather, an influx of students, and more paperwork, alhaitham thinks he can spare some time and energy for more... adventurous pursuits. a scribe needs to keep sharp, after all, and what better way to do it than give a helping hand here and there (if he feels like it)? for the season of swirl, here are the prompts that have caught his interest:
🌿 teyvat
melusine inventions - although he's not as much of a mechanic as some of his classmates may be, alhaitham is still familiar with creating things to work around or accomodate issues (case in point: his headphones). the melusines' plight resonates with him, so of course he's available to help! (claimed: n/a)
withering devices - it seems that the akademiya can't catch a break when it comes to scholars doing stupid things in the name of science (or other subjects), and while alhaitham is really not a matra and probably doesn't need to intervene, the plot to save the dendro archon also dealt with stopping the withering. it... might be wise for him to go check it out. or something. (claimed: n/a)
🌿 quanta
pcu civil war - alhaitham is... not. an actor. by any means. he is, however, sassy, sarcastic, and a genius, not to mention a pretty deft inventor if he does say so himself. all good qualities for playing clock-man, it turns out! kindly drag him into posing as an interstellar superhero, will you? quanta muse required! (claimed: fu hua)
belobog back ally - now this will definitely prove to be interesting and creepy. what kind of phenomenon could cause such a thing, and why are there two different variants of the man asking to be let out? should he even be let out if there's something more sinister going on? alhaitham intends to investigate. quanta muse required! (claimed: n/a)
any other ideas and prompts along the lines of autumn and swirl are welcome! we're excited to see where the fall season will take us~!
