#the sinners

[ldrloversblog]

[quietplace26]

Ok, here's my Dainsleif!MC x Capitano AU!!!

Little backstory for this MC.

MC grew up as the oldest sibling in their family. Their parents weren't good people, they were drunkards, so they were forced to raise their siblings. They were only four when their little sibling was born, and then 7 when their second sibling was born, and then 12 when their youngest sibling was born.

They raised all of them, taught them morals, brought them to school, fed them, dressed them, read to them, cooked for them, everything and anything. They had dropped out of college for their little siblings, had gone to every game and competition, had sacrificed everything for them.

Then one day, MC discovered it, they were sick, badly sick. It was permanent, deathly, a chronic illness. It could be cured but… MC didn't have enough for the treatment. Their parents had been gambling away every penny MC earned. Their little siblings tried to help where they could, but MC refused, making sure they didn't drop out of school for their sake.

They hid the illness expertly.

They adored nature, adored birds, adored everything about life.

MC often took hikes and walks through the woods/nature with their little siblings. Their little siblings graduated college and MC worked many jobs to pay off the debts. It wasn't much because their little siblings got scholarships.

Their little siblings worked the job of their dreams, and the four of them all cut off contact with their parents and moved in together into a new house.

Eventually MC collapsed while cooking dinner one night. Their siblings panicked and drove them to the hospital. There it was revealed to the younger three that MC had a chronic illness, one that COULD'VE been treated but now… it was too late.

MC had been diagnosed when they were 16, now though, they were 34. They had only one job now, something their siblings demanded of them 'You RAISED us, sacrificed EVERYTHING for us, so let us take care of you.'

MC was stuck in the hospitable for almost three years and in that time they got really into Genshin. They played all the updates, learned as much lore as what was currently released, looked at concept art, looked at everything and learned as much as they could.

Then one day, MC knew it was time. Their siblings at their bedside, their parents had been imprisoned for child neglect and unethical use of alcohol years ago.

They died, a smile on their lips, their hands held in their siblings' hands, a final message saying 'Live, be happy, find people to open your hearts to. Don't become like me and become a hermit, be a beautiful butterfly and find people that you can trust. Move on someday, for me'

They were selfish, wanting their siblings to move on, to be happy, when MC KNOWS that their siblings are crushed, when MC KNOWS that their siblings will never be the same. So they are selfish.

They gave and gave and gave, only giving and never receiving. Even now MC is giving, the only wish they've ever had was for THEM, for the three MC raised and cared for as their own.

So no, MC was not selfish, their siblings thought. They are the most selfless person I/we know, they had thought, watching MC die with a smile on her lips.

So MC died, and their siblings mourned.

But then MC opened their eyes and cursed in their mind. Giant hands cradled their body and they heard the name 'Dainsleif!MC' and cursed once more.

He had been reborn, and he DESPISED it.

He had already lived once, lived with terrible parents, took care of amazing siblings, raised three people from babies, suffered under abuse, took walks in nature, appreciated life, soothed nightmares, worked jobs, and was diagnosed with death…

He had already died once, died slowly and painfully, hiding the way his lungs strained, hiding how his hands shook, hiding how he coughed blood more days than not, how he was in agony even moving his hand, had left the world with his siblings around him and a smile on his lips…

But now Dainsleif!MC was alive again and he had lived under too much suffering to believe in coincidences. He was reborn in Genshin as Dainsleif and he HATED it.

He had lived and died once before.

And now he would do it again, except living is now stretched 500 years and dying shall never come. He shall live a life full of agony and pain once again except this time there is no release nor person/people to fight/live for.

Dainsleif!MC would not seize this life and take advantage of a healthy body.

He had lived and died once before, he does not want to live more.

Dainsleif!MC as a baby was very grumpy and often pouted/glared at everyone. And despite a four year old Vedrfolnir's attempts, he just wouldn't smile. He would only scoot away or turn away as much as his baby body would allow.

But then one day, it changed.

Dainsleif!MC was supposed to be sleeping, so was Vedrfolnir, it was VERY late at night.

Dainsleif!MC was roused from his sleep by a presence peering at him from above, and a soft finger stroking his cheek. He was ready to bite the finger, but the next words, spoken so softly Dainsleif!MC might've not heard them had he not been focusing, made him pause.

It was Vedrfolnir 'I don't know why you're such an angry baby or even why you look at the world as if it has already hurt you but…'

Dainsleif!MC heard the four year old boy's voice wobble and something in his heart, the same thing that connected to his own siblings and raised them, twisted.

'Me, ma, and pa… we all love you, and I want to be the big brother you deserve but I've already failed. You don't like me, you don't even like ma or pa, and you look like the world has hurt you so many times. You look like you've given up'

Shit, Vedrfolnir was starting to cry.

Something in Dainsleif!MC broke when he heard those sniffles, when the finger against his cheek trembled.

'I already failed at being a big brother but please, don't give up, not when your life has just begun'

Dainsleif!MC stayed quiet, pretending to sleep peacefully as Vedrfolnir cried and sniffled. He mulled over his thoughts and feelings.

He doesn't want to live, that was for sure, but… he doesn't want Vedrfolnir to suffer. The boy is still just a boy, a child.

The next morning and Vedrfolnir's puffy eyes were easily explained away by him saying he had a nightmare.

Dainsleif!MC let him lie, because that moment was private, one between the two boys.

When Vedrfolnir bounced over to Dainsleif, the baby debated once more before not pulling away when Vedrfolnir got in his space. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Vedrfolnir's eyes widened in shock and glee but the four year old carefully held in his cheers.

Over the span of the next few weeks, Dainsleif!MC finally gave gummy smiles and coos, finally didn't pull away when they got too close, and finally used his pudgy little fingers to grab either fingers or hair or even clothes.

He still preferred Vedrfolnir though.

Over the next few years, Dainsleif!MC would notice something with Vedrfolnir. The boy would occasionally wake up sharply, his eyes too clear, too seeing, and then walk to Dainsleif!MC's 'sleeping form' and just rant. Rant about his dreams and how Dainsleif!MC was sometimes in them but always blurry and then he just stopped showing up.

And Dainsleif!MC knew that this was the sign of Vedrfolnir's seer abilities.

Their parents noticed too, even got him a teacher. It helped but Vedrfolnir would still only tell Dainsleif!MC of his 'dreams'. They still tormented him and overwhelmed him sometimes, but they were getting less often, less all consuming and overwhelming. the teacher was a kind old lady, but she died when Vedrfolnir was 8 and Dainsleif!MC was 4. They didn't know her all too well, she was like that teacher who you cared for and would cry if they died but would move on quickly enough.

Vedrfolnir had to learn a lot on his own and Dainsleif!MC was a constant, kept helping him, and together they found many ways for Vedrfolnir to work with the visions, to cope with what they showed, to understand things, etc. etc.

Their parents tried helping but they just couldn't understand it.

Dainsleif!MC would occasionally hear stories from his parents about how he had always been a grumpy baby, looking like the world had failed him already. His parents would tell stories of their adventures, tell tales of the world.

It was good for learning how long he had until the Cataclysm and learning more about this world in general, in this time period anyway.

But now… now he would never get any teasing remark or story or tale.

For his parents were six feet in the ground.

Vedrfolnir was only 9 while Dainsleif!MC was 5 and yet… they were all alone.

Dainsleif!MC grit his teeth and glared at his parents' graves. How many times must the world take things from him. He finally got good parents and yet… it seems he was always destined to never have parents, to never have anyone who could fill that void in his chest made for parental love.

Khaenri'ah did not have orphanages, instead they let children live on their own, weekly funds being given to them until they turn 16, and until they turn 12 someone checks up on them every week.

Vedrfolnir tried his best, he really did, but Dainsleif!MC also knew how hard it was to raise a child when you were a child yourself.

So Dainsleif!MC stole.

It's quite simple really. In his last life he had to steal scraps of food as a child for his little siblings when their birth giver and sperm donor (he dare not call them parents, not after he experienced the loving people who raised him in this life) where in the kitchen. He stole some Mora, when he was too young to get a job, to buy his little siblings clothes when their own started to get too small, threadbare, and winter was coming around.

No one expects a kid to steal from them, doesn't expect someone to only steal 1-3 Mora from them.

The two were alone.

So Dainsleif!MC made things easier. He knew what to do and how to do it. He had experience and memories.

The two were close, very close. They tried not to go anywhere without each other.

Then one day when Dainsleif!MC turned 6, there was a sharp pain in his back. It had been growing for the past few months and as he lay in bed, his skin feeling like it was being torn apart, tears in his eyes, screams muffled by his fist, he couldn't help but be glad Vedrfolnir wouldn't be back for a few hours. Vedrfolnir was in the library, helping out and making part time money.

Finally the pain stopped and he felt six appendages twitch, sending sharp pain through him…

Wait a minute…

He bolted up, ignoring the lingering pain that came from jostling the six new things on his back, ignoring the blood and skin on his sheets. He hurried to the body length mirror and turned, twisting his head to see his back in the mirror.

Dainsleif!MC went pale and swore worse than a sailor, able to make anyone (even those battle hardened and supposedly emotionless and stuff) blush. He cut off his tirade of every curse and slang word in the book (both from Genshin and Earth) in many different languages (from earth like Russian, Spanish, French, Japanese, English, Italian, German, etc. etc. etc.) and just stared…

Because there, on his back, were six wings, three pairs.

The largest ones where the top ones, at least 1.5 to 2 times bigger, near/in-between his shoulder-blades.

The middle sized ones, the next biggest, are on his lower-middle back.

The smallest ones were near his low back or near/slightly above his hips/waist.

The wings were quite frankly, covered in his blood and little bits of skin. He sighed and grabbed the bed sheet, changing them out and shoving the bloodied ones into a garbage bag before head to the bathroom and taking a shower. He washed off all the blood and looked at the wings once more. They would grow, that much was for sure, and from what he could see of the feathers now, they would be quite beautiful.

The feathers were a light, deep blue color with light purple and golden feathers dotted here and there.

Quite frankly.

They were beautiful.

What would Vedrfolnir think-

Shit.

He couldn't tell him.

He wasn't a 'changeling' that's for sure, he wasn't a Fae, but he wasn't human. He knew he was biologically Vedrfolnir's brother, he knew he was, he had the memories of his birth (and those still made him shudder) to prove it. But Vedrfolnir might not know that, he could assume different, could assume his real little brother was taken and that Dainsleif!MC was a fake.

He didn't want that to happen.

Besides, he didn't want Vedrfolnir to worry himself sick if he finds out about the wings and believes/knows Dainsleif!MC is his little brother.

He doesn't want the possibility of Vedrfolnir not believing/knowing/thinking it was him.

Dainsleif!MC didn't want to lose anyone else.

So he hides, he wears baggier clothing, he maneuvers carefully, and he pretends.

One day, he realizes his wings have gotten too big to hide anymore. He nearly has a full breakdown, until he feels a tug in him. The tug had never been there before, only now, when his wings are fully grown for his current age and height.

He tugs and watches transfixed as his wings seem to shrink, furling on his back and then, they are small. They are little, as big as they were when he first got them but they look older, look like how they do when full size.It's not reverting, it's shrinking.

He breathes a sigh of relief.

Vedrfolnir never finds out about the bloodied, thrown away sheets, of the pain, of the ripped skin, of the blood that soaked his back, of the wings on his skin.

Dainsleif!MC feels shimmers of guilt but he beats them down, because he cannot lose Vedrfolnir, he is selfish that way, not wanting to lose anyone else. But… he knows the future, knows that someday his brother WILL leave him, along with all his other future friends.

Should he be the sinners' friends?

If he isn't that will save him pain but… it could also mean Vedrfolnir won't know them which could put him in danger when all five are the sinners…

He wants to go with the flow, wants to say 'lets deal with it when we get there' but he can't.

Dainsleif!MC is scared, is worried.

But he calms his nerves and uses his wings every Saturday, deep in the forest near the cliff, he FLIES, high above the clouds, above the world, above all his worries and fears.

Then something happens that makes Dainsleif!MC shocked. He sees a little brown haired boy with blue eyes crying. The boy looked to be about 9, while Dainsleif!MC was 7. The boy was curled up under a tree.

It's a baby faced Rerir.

Dainsleif!MC debates with himself but taking another look at that tear streaked face and sighed. He walked over to Rerir and sat down with the boy, didn't say anything, just sat there. Rerir clearly didn't want to talk, and Dainsleif!MC was fine with that.

Less talking meant a less likely chance of getting close to someone who would betray him in the end.

Eventually Rerir stopped crying and whispered a quiet thank you. Dainsleif!MC just nodded in response and gave Rerir a candy.

After that day, Rerir popped up everywhere, following Dainsleif!MC around like a lost puppy, not saying anything, just following. It was getting annoying, but it was also adorable.

Dainsleif!MC had seen his own little siblings (he wondered how they were doing) do the same.

Finally Rerir managed to get the courage to say what he actually wanted to say instead of just following him around.

Rerir asked to be friends and Dainsleif!MC, like the fool he was, said 'Sure'.

Now watching Vedrfolnir and Rerir interact was funny. The two watched each other like hawks, not quite circling each other but close to it, as if debating how fast they could take the other out.

And then Dainsleif!MC 'walked in' (in reality he was hiding in the shadows watching it all but they didn't need to know that) and the two turned sunshine and rainbows.

Dainsleif!MC let very few into his heart, his space sure, his heart… not so much. Vedrfolnir knew this and so Dainsleif!MC introducing a new friend made him pause.

At first Vedrfolnir and Rerir only got along for Dainsleif!MC's sake. It wasn't surprising that eventually the two grew close and became friends. The three of them all fell into a n easy rhythm, a soft life style.

Then Dainsleif!MC brought home more 'strays'.

Two to be exact.

A girl, only 10, bullied for being too smart and often pushed around while being called a know it all, Rhonedottir.

And a boy, only 10, hurt and kicked from his home, called a brat who just wants to show others up with his smarts, Hroptatyr.

They speak of Dainsleif!MC with reverence, with gratefulness, and they look at Rerir and Vedrfolnir with suspicion.

That suspicion is not once sided.

The four squabble and hate, but they grow closer. They recognize the other two's (Vedrfolnir + Rerir see Hroptatyr + Rhonedottir's and Hroptatyr +Rhonedottir see Vedrfolnir + Rerir's) devotion to Dainsleif!MC.

So they all come to an agreement, they would tolerate the other group for Dainsleif!MC. They would share the 7 year old. Vedrfolnir is 11 and stressed but he is less so now because now he doesn't have to worry about Dainsleif!MC being lonely all the time, though he does pout and get annoyed/angry/jealous when Dainsleif!MC hangs out with others. Vedrfolnir had been with Dainsleif!MC for YEARS now, so he was quite protective, luckily his new… friend and colleagues were too.

Later on, the four become fast friends. Dainsleif!MC is in the center of this all, and the chaos, and just continues reading his book.

He knew what he was doing when he protected Rhonedottir from bullies, knew what he was doing when he invited her to his home so they could patch her wounds and get her clean, new clothes.

He knew what he was doing when he fed a hurt Hroptatyr, knew what he was doing when he invited the boy to his home to get him food, clothes, and bandages, knew what he was doing when he introduced the too geniuses together.

So he took them back home and introduced them to Rerir and Vedrfolnir, making sure they got baths, brushed hair, clean bodies, new and soft clothes, food, and bandages.

He knew he was already risking it just getting close to Vedrfolnir but the boy was his brother and still just a boy, knew he was risking it assembling the future sinners, knew he was befriending the people who would later betray him, knew he was putting his heart at risk once more but…

Dainsleif!MC saw their child-like innocence, saw the wonder in their eyes, saw their bruised faces, saw their desperate expressions, and he saw the way they were BROKEN. So he took, he took them and healed their souls, filled their cracks with liquid gold, and he introduced his family together.

He was risking it all doing this but he cannot bring himself to care.

He was collecting shiny things and their souls CALLED to him. His wings fluttered under his baggy but sturdy clothing whenever they were close. They were so kind, so sweet, so soft. And Dainsleif!MC wanted to open his heart, he wanted friends, he wanted them to be his family. But he was also scared because he knew what they would do.

But that wasn't going to happen in a long time and he saw their tear filled eyes, the bruises on them, the way they had been broken by the world. He was a big brother first and foremost, a person second.

When he realized how he was categorizing them, as if they were merely objects (oh you sweet baby boy, you're not categorizing them as objects, your categorizing them as part of your flock), he was horrified. He did not know what he was, could only assume he was some kind of fae or angel or some mutant MONSTER. But these new instincts, ones that screamed to collect pretty things (gems mostly), ones that made him wish to preen his feathers and give the fallen ones to his family, ones that made him want to make a nest… they were difficult to work with and grow used to.

Dainsleif!MC knew the four were people, knew they were humans, and he was appalled at how his instincts screamed for him to collect them, to keep them close, to cuddle with them and wrap his wings around them. They were not objects, they were people.

He watches fondly, stifling his instincts to hoard and cuddle, and he plans.

Maybe he can help them?

Maybe he can give them such a good and happy life they won't become what they become in the future?

Then one day he sees another.

A young boy of only 9 years was being pushed around, mocked for his hope and dreams to travel the world, he was pushed to the ground and kicked, spit at, mocked.

It did not last even a minute when Dainsleif!MC got there.

He grabbed a few rocks, and THREW. They nails the bullies in their faces/heads harshly, making them cry out and run. He felt a bit of guilt but seeing a bruised face with wide, fearful but hopeful eyes, he could not find himself to drown in guilt.

He thought he recognized the boy's voice, and only when the boy introduced himself did Dainsleif!MC know.

This boy was Sertalogi.

He brought the boy home, letting Sertalogi talk about his hopes and dreams, everything and anything.

The introductory went as well as it did the previous times.

Only weeks later were all six of them friends, mostly centered around Dainsleif!MC but they have their own very strong individual bonds with each other.

Dainsleif!MC was 7, Rerir and Sertalogi were 9, Rhonedottir and Hroptatyr were 10, Vedrfolnir was 11.

Dainsleif!MC was 8 when Rerir suddenly put distance between them all and he KNEW what was happening. Rerir had just been recruited as an executioner, or being trained as one anyway.

So he fought, he pulled Rerir back into his family's (not flock's because they are human, stop it Dainsleif!MC, they are not objects or a non human species, stop thinking like that, they are people and are sentient) orbit. His family was confused and suspicious but eventually they forgot about it. Vedrfolnir informed everyone that he was a seer and Dainsleif!MC said that if they thought about leaving them both just for this… well they were stupid. But the four stuck on stubbornly, like barnacles.

Vedrfolnir was being called away by the king more and more. The others were finding their own professions too.

It was when he turned 8 that King Irmin finally discovered his wings. He was 8 and already had to dodge 3 kidnappings every week.

He was 8 and collapsed in his room, coughs wracking his body. He was 8 when he realized it, his illness had followed him in this life. He was dying, AGAIN.

But he could not tell his family (not flock, not flock, they are humans, they will HATE him if he says the truth of his nature) about it, could not bare to see their smiling faces turn into ones of pity or distress. He could not bare it if they distanced themselves from him or searched endlessly for a cure or broke down.

So he lied and hid.

He's been doing that a lot recently, lying, hiding the truth. He was a terrible person wasn't he…

Tears mixed with the blood on the floor and he wiped them away and cleaned his face. He pretended he was not sick, and he succeeded. No one from his past life found out till it was too late, he can hide it again this time.

Dainsleif!MC was 14 when he joined the army, when he became a knight, when he became a soldier.

There was another with him, a boy with black hair and starry blue eyes, a boy only 17.

His name, Thrain.

Dainsleif!MC kept his distance, tried staying away, tried to prevent himself from getting attached to another who could one day betray him.

But Thrain was stubborn and wormed his way into Dainsleif!MC's heart. Eventually Dainsleif!MC introduced the other knight to his family. Once again it took weeks before they eventually warmed up to Thrain and Thrain warmed up to them.

The two men trained together day in and day out and then Dainsleif!MC's rhythm is thrown when at 15 he goes to the attic and discovers a moveable floorboard covered by boxes and hidden in the back. He lifted it up and froze, because there was a box and pictures, all belonging to his parents. He sees a photo, one of his mom and dad, his mom having SIX WINGS, but his dad fully human. He searches the box, trying to find any mention of their species, of what they do. But he could only find a single, sky blue feather.

He brought it all down and showed Vedrfolnir. When the seer questioned the wings Dainsleif!MC said they were probably fake. Vedrfolnir believed him easily.

Dainsleif!MC was guilty because he was LYING but Vedrfolnir was fully human, had no instincts, no feathers, nothing, and Dainsleif!MC was SCARED. He had already been hiding it for 9 years now and he was scared how Vedrfolnir would react to the fact he hid it so long, to the fact he was not human.

They went through their parent's journals, and when Dainsleif!MC was going through his mothers, he saw it.

Apparently his mother had a brother, one still alive but lived far away, one who supported her even as their homeland cast her out for falling in love with their father. The name was smudged but it said their uncle came from Snezhnaya and had beautiful golden eyes.

Dainsleif!MC had his suspicions but did not say anything.

Vedrfolnir did not wish to find their uncle so Dainsleif!MC didn't either. His older brother gave the 15 year old the feather, saying he would like it and truly cherish it more than Vedrfolnir would.

So Dainsleif!MC kept it tucked in his hair, behind his ear, and when asked about it he said it used to be his mother's.

Ever since he was 6 and his wings had finally fully grown, he flew with them every Saturday deep in the forest near the cliff. Except he had been seen when was 8 by the King, and ever sense then, he had to dodge kidnappings.

More than once he swore he saw a figure with black hair tipped teal, wearing silk with two white wings flying below him in the clouds while Dainsleif!MC flew above the clouds, unwilling to be seen by those below.

But Dainsleif!MC didn't speak, didn't call attention to the other winged figure.

Once when he turned 11 he got a little too curious on if his bones were lighter than a regular person's. So he let himself drop from 5 feet in the air, something that doesn't do more than perhaps hurt/bruise or feel uncomfortable for a regular person.

He broke his ankle.

Dainsleif!MC had to lie (he wasn't risking anything) and say he was exploring in the forest to watch the animals and just be in nature but his foot got caught and yea…

They all believed him.

But then when he was 16 and just landed, grabbing his shirt to put back on because no clothes worked with his wings and he didn't want to rip the shirt. He was taken, he fought, viciously. But one had grabbed his wings, another pinned him down, and a third injected something into his neck and made him unconscious.

He awoke in the dungeons, iron shackles around his neck, wrists, ankles, and there were smaller ones attached to the base of his six wings.

King Irmin was there and said "Become mine and no harm shall befall you"

Dainsleif!MC spit and cursed viciously, saying no and that they would rather burn alive.

King Irmin only looked at him coldly and said 'so be it'.

Dainsleif!MC was tortured, day in and day out. For what, he had suspicions. He just knew they wanted to break him, most likely so he wouldn't refuse King Irmin's offer next time.

He was bloodied, and his fast healing rate excited the torturers. But then King Irmin entered his cell one day, his touch featherlight, caressing his body, his touch sickening.

Kind Irmin wanted him, his previous offer made that clear, but it seems the king was losing his patience.

Dainsleif!MC refused, and so he was tortured again.

For almost a week he was down there, refusing to make a sound or scream, refusing to cry out. His illness had only gotten worse down there, he often coughed up blood, his feathers were losing their shine, his wings heavy and unable to shrink.

One day King Irmin went into his cell and tried to force himself onto the chained boy all while saying "become mine and you shall not have to endure more pain and fear". Dainsleif!Mc did not take kindly to that. He fought back, viciously, freaky, biting and kicking.

Eventually King Irmin had enough and dragged him out, forcing him into another room and chaining him onto a table, his stomach pressed against the material, his arms and legs bound. He felt hands grab one of his wings, the low right one, and TEAR.

He screamed, and his remaining five wings flapped frantically till hands forced them down. Three more wings were torn from his body, one by one, agonizingly slowly. Now only the top two, the ones near/in-between his shoulder-blades, remained.

They burned the wings in front of him. His healing factor scarred over the new wounds in an hour.

King Irmin turned to him once more and said "Become mine and I will not take your other wings".

Dainsleif!MC refused once more.

And so he was thrown back into the dungeons, tortured and nearly killed over and over. He knew he could regrow his wings, he didn't know how he knew, just that he did. But he got the strangest feeling (not a vision, but still something he should not be able to 'see') that if he regrew them, it would make him fall unconscious for a few days at most.

He's not risking it. He cannot risk the king trying anything while he's unconscious.

It took a few days but finally he managed to escape. He shrunk his wings, and stumbled into his house. Next thing he knows and Vedrfolnir is in front of him, fussing over him.

Dainsleif!MC only responds to questions about where he was, why he was gone, and things like that, with 'I don't know' or 'I can't remember'.

He can't reveal the truth because revealing the truth means revealing almost everything and Dainsleif!MC doesn't think he's ready for that.

It's been almost two weeks.

Three days later and he finally managed to convince his five friends (the other sinners and Tholindis) that he CAN go back to training. Thrain is immediately asking questions when he gets there and Dainsleif!MC responds the same way he did with his brother and friends.

A month later and he meets Pierro, the man becoming a sort of grandpa to him. Thrain, the other sinners (Dainsleif!MC included), and Tholindis were surprised to see Dainsleif!MC having tea with the older man. Threatening/warning ensues and Pierro only nods as if the threats make perfect sense.

Soon he starts to continue flying every Saturday. The figure seems relieved that Dainsleif!MC is back and the two continue to not communicate or even get within 10 feet of each other. But the figure leaves a note after Dainsleif!MC comes back, asking about his wings.

Dainsleif!MC's hands shake but he writes back, saying they were ripped out and he cannot risk regrowing them.

That is how the two winged people, never knowing each others' names (though Dainsleif!MC has suspicions) yet always flying every Saturday, become pen pals.

Three years go by but every night Dainsleif!MC still has nightmares. He still feels the phantom pain of his wings, still can feel them being torn out. The scars are ugly on his back and he cannot bare to look at them.

He is tired but something weird is happening with Thrain. The 22 year old is distancing himself from the 19 year old Dainsleif!MC. It is making him agitated and worried.

He doesn't want to lose anyone but he also knows how to let go. He cannot figure out what is happening with Thrain because sometimes the man seems like he cannot bare to look at Dainsleif!MC and then sometimes he's so close Dainsleif!MC can feel his body heat.

It is confusing and he is ranting to Pierro, the only one he knows will not overreact (well… Pierro will still 'overreact' but it will be far more subtle). Two days later and Thrain asks to meet him somewhere.

(Pierro had barged into Thrain's house and basically told him 'I know you have feelings for Dainsleif!MC so you better stop distancing yourself and confess or so help me!')

That is where Thrain revealed his feelings and despite Diansleif!MC knowing how things will end, despite knowing that Thrain will become Capitano and join the Fatui, despite knowing that he will be betrayed by Thrain and everyone else… he grabs the collar of Thrain's shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

The two start dating and the other sinners + Tholindis are enraged and threaten Thrain who nods as if their threats/promise of bodily and mental harm will be deserved if he ever hurts Dainsleif!MC.

Dainsleif!MC meets Abyss Sibling and becomes very close to them, sibling close. Abyss Sibling and Dainsleif!MC's other friends/family are tense around each other at first before warming up.

Dainsleif!MC is cherished deeply by them all.

When his next molt comes around, he gathers his feathers and gives one to the other five sinners, Tholindis, Pierro, Thrain, and Abyss Sibling. They do not know where he found the feathers but they aren't complaining.

(Something in Dainsleif!MC chirps happily. He had marked his flock and they accepted!)

Another three years go by and Dainsleif!MC is now 25. Thrain proposed a few weeks ago and it made him so flustered but he accepted it, of course he did. He is trying to figure out how to tell Thrain about his wings, how to reveal that four of his six wings were ripped out. No one knows about them, no one but him and the king/the king's must trusted servants anyway (and they wouldn't reveal it because if they do then others could come and try and take Dainsleif!MC away and that was a no no because King Irmin wants him).

But it seems… he will never have to figure out a way.

Vedrfolnir was gone, was in the castle dungeons. Dainsleif!MC grit his teeth and carefully prevented his wings from flaring out in pure rage.

Days later and they stormed the castle. Thrain and Pierro had known of the plan but couldn't do anything DIRECTLY.

They got Vedrfolnir and then Dainsleif!MC was running. Why? Because Vedrfolnir had screamed at him to flee, to get to safety. Dainsleif!MC wasn't actually doing that though, he was saving as many as he could, was trying to cut a path to safety.

He sees Thrain running out of the castle somewhere else and hurrying towards him. He sees Tholindis, Rerir, Pierro, Rhonedottir, Hroptatyr, and Sertalogi running to him, fear in their eyes. Abyss sibling is watching in horror.

Dainsleif sees Morax's spears raining down and knows, he will not make it.

Deep in the dungeons, Vedrfolnir cried out as he saw his little brother's fate appear in his mind. He has never seen his brother's fate before, had never seen his path, only echoes and fragments.

He watches as the spears hit the ground, watches as the ground shakes and cracks open, watches as Dainsleif!MC, who was injured badly from the spears, is unable to move out of the way as the grown cracks underneath him.

Vedrfolnir can only cry as he watches his beloved little brother smile with tears in his eyes, looking at them all, including Vedrfolnir as if he could see him, and then falling. Thrain surged forward, his fingertips brushing Dainsleif!MC's but it wasn't enough.

Vedrfolnir choked on a sob when he felt Dainsleif!MC's thread of fate being cut. Nothing was there anymore, just emptiness.

Dainsleif!MC was DEAD.

And this is how the story goes.

'The sky is ripped open and bleeds red, the ground shakes and trembles, and souls are transformed.

Monsters are birthed and souls are bound to life.

Six become sinners, rage and grief fueling their every step.

Two go to the frozen wasteland, anger and desperation coloring every action.

One joins the dark, intent on bringing another back.

And all alone, one falls through the dark'

Dainsleif!MC wakes all alone, in a cavern, the cave emanating abyssal energy. He chokes on a sob and CRIES. His family was GONE. Oh Archons they were going to hate him, they were going to forget him probably.

Cannon Dainsleif was hated despite his close bonds with the sinners and the others so… what does that mean for him.

Dainsleif!MC choked on a sob as he saw his wings.

They had the same shape, the same size, the same everything except… bright pink feathers now dotted his wings occasionally. The color was a clear sign of his curse of immortality, of the abyssal energy that now corrupted him just as it did every other Khaenrian.

His lower four wings did not grow back and somehow he just knows that if he attempts to grow them back now, he will go into a coma that will last months, perhaps even years, if he is not in his family's or another/other fae's presences. He doesn't know how he knows, but he does. He shudders and wraps his arms around himself, feeling phantom pain that has never and will never go away.

What's worse… is that his illness was still here, eternally getting worse but he powers through it for there is no other choice. He cannot die anymore, and he DESPISES it.

He's lived, and died, and lived once more yet now he cannot die?!

It HURTS.

Hundreds of years go by and occasionally when his wings are spotted he is hunted, it never lasts long though, most attributing it to hallucinations.

He visits Nod Krai every week, visiting Columbina. He met the young goddess on a trip there and he basically adopted her on the spot. He established the Ratniks, trained them, and then left on another adventure, to help people. He visits the young goddess every week unknown to everyone but the one he visits.

Dainsleif!MC takes in orphans, children, everyone, and gives them a home, a family. He opens orphanages and other things like that. He is adored greatly by those he takes in. He cares for them all and mourns when they die yet he keeps giving.

Eventually the orphanage is destroyed and he is left alone in the rubble, cradling a dead child's body.

It seems he is alone once more.

Everyone he cares for he brings ruin to.

Everyone he opens his heart to leaves him.

No one knows he's alive and that is for the best. He hides his identity when fighting the Fatui and Abyss order. He has heard of their common, goal, bringing SOMEONE back. He does not know who for they are tight lipped. Outside he is indifferent, on the inside, he is mourning. For they cannot be trying to get HIM back, no, they cannot be.

They've probably forgotten him by now, and if they haven't/discover he's alive, they're probably going to hate him.

(Oh darling, don't you understand that they LOVE you? That Capitano was going to marry you the DAY OF the cataclysm, though pushed off for later so Vedrfolnir could be there and see it too? They love you darling and when they find out you're alive and was alone these past 500 years, they are going to be so sad but they will take you and NEVER let you go).

Columbina leaves one day, him helping her, urging her to find a HOME, to find people she loves and cares for. She wishes to stay with him but understands.

Then Dainsleif!MC hears it, Flins has woken, another Fae was ALIVE.

He is bouncing on the balls of his feet, wanting to meet the fae, before he freezes and leaves. No, he cannot. Because if his suspicions of his mother's brother/his uncle are correct… then he cannot bare to see the disappointment or hate or disgust.

So he leaves, and does not come back.

He travels, fighting back against the Abyss order and Fatui, putting rest to the crushed Khaenrians. He protects all those he can, and mourns for those he can't. Boreas somehow finds him one day when Dainsleif!MC is in Mondstat. The old wolf settles near him and calls him 'Fae-Light'. The old wolf offers sanctuary, pack, a home, and can stay there permanently. Dainsleif!MC is so tempted but shakes his head because he still has a duty to do. Maybe one day, he told the old wolf.

He visits the old wolf and wolf packs in Mondstat every week under the cover of darkness. 200 years go by and then he hears the news of a human baby having a wolf soul. He meets Razor, calls the boy 'Lightning-Shard' (Sue him, that's how the wolves name people and Razor who isn't yet Razor is still part of the pack). He teaches the boy, raises him, even helps him hunt and train.

Razor goes by Razor with humans, but with the wolves and the Protector/Guardian (name for Dainsleif!MC) he is Lightning-Shard. The wolves, Razor, and Boreas know of Dainsleif's wings, have seen them, have cuddled with the wings wrapped around them, etc.

No one else knows of the wings and the only reason they did was an accident. His wings had been broken badly and he couldn't shrink them lest he risk permanent damage. The wolf pack smelled his blood and panicked. Boreas helped them and all the wolves + Razor +Boreas froze in shock as they saw the wings. But the wolves did not let it stop them.

Dainsleif!MC had panicked but was only cuddled and scented as pack and lupical and family by the wolves, Razor, and Boreas.

When he molts again he burns all the bright pink feathers and then gives the other shed feathers to Boreas, Razor, and the wolf pack so now everyone has one.

Dainsleif!MC has spent more than 500 years suppressing his instincts and it hurts when he does so, but he continues, no matter how much the wolves try to tell him to let his instincts run wild. Eventually he hears about the Traveler appearing and sighs. It seems canon has finally come around.

He joins the traveler and Paimon to save and protect Mondstat (ignoring Venti's wide eyes and the way he found white feathers near him along with blank pieces of paper fold as if they were notes). He journeys with the traveler and when they tell him their goal, he reveals things. About Abyss Sibling, about the Abyss Order, about Khaenri'ah. Traveler and Paimon are shocked but they bond closer with Dainsleif!MC because of that.

The Khaenrian wears a cloak and mask when encountering the Abyss Herald and Abyss Sibling. Dainsleif!MC was not recognized and that hurt even though he was grateful for it.

Cannon went by and now, Dainsleif!MC was traveling with the Traveler and Paimon to Nod Krai, the two having feathers that they kept in their hair. Capitano hadn't died, he had made a different deal with Ronova. The two, whenever asked about the feathers, merely say their friend found them (they know of Dainsleif!MC's wings, the man had to reveal it to grab the two and escape with them, but they will not reveal them).

Dainsleif!MC is TIRED.

But he keeps going, he has to.

He wants to sleep and never wake up, to finally be put to rest, to finally regrow his four wings. He wants to reunite with all the children he took in, he wants to reunite with his parents, he wants to greet all of the other Khaenrians when they took eventually pass on.

But he cannot.

Not yet.

Not when he still had so much left to do.

So he nods and follows. So he keeps his wings small and hidden. So he doesn't regrow the wings on his back. So he helps all those he can until he no longer can't. So he hides his wings and illness. He hides the blood he coughs up. He hides it all and doesn't regret it one bit.

When he died he will welcome death with open arms for he is TIRED.

He has lived.

He has died.

And he has lived once more.

Yet he cannot die and he oh so wishes to.

He misses his family (his flock). He still loves Thrain/Capitano, still considers the sinners (and boy was he shocked/confused when there were now apparently 6 instead of 5) his family, still considers Pierro his grandpa. He misses them, does not wish to fight them (he will let them kill him), and yet he is too tired to fight to be with them.

His energy was exhausted long ago, before the orphanage was destroyed, before everyone he loved and cared about left him or died.

Dainsleif!MC is tired and he wishes to rest, no matter how it happens or who kills him in the end. He does not mind when he died, he just wishes to get as much stuff as he can done.

They have just arrived at Nod Krai and he steels his nerves. Soon he will meet Flins, soon he will encounter the Wild Hunt, soon he will see Columbina again, soon… soon he will sleep.

(I hope you liked this! I hope it made sense!

And I hope this lived up to yours and 🐸 Anon's expectations! I hope this lived up to the hype and angst train I paraded it as! I also hope that I didn't disappoint or let you all down because you were expecting something else/different/better!)

(Also, did you all guess correctly on his unique appendages? I think I made it vague enough to be though worthy but also it was sorta obvious)

- 🦔 Anon

I... am crying. Oh god, I'm crying- 😭

Dainsleif!MC!!!! Baby, no, you're loved! Oh you are loved very much!

And oh god, I can only imagine all his Yandere flock's reaction if they find out he's alive, but sick. He's literally dying. Ved, the other Sinners, Pierro, the Abyss Sibling, and most of all, Thrain, are all going to fucking lose it.

But as for ny guess? I had a feeling he was either going to be a angel or bird like hybrid... or a Fae. I was actually thinking he was a Fae like Linnea. An Augury Bird Fae, with wings on their head, but i'm at least glad I was somewhat right. I mean, he's related to Flins! ...Who's also going to lose it once he finds out about his nephew.

Tagging: @platinumrosetail, @arn9tails, @bloodytea, @esthelily, @lovelyjane-stuff

[humanity-as-a-whole]

I was just replaying a couple fights in limbus and well it just struck me that with the reveal of roach Gregor, and the pseudo crash out by Dante in canto 9, that all the sinners have been handpicked for some unrevealed. "glorious" purpose. What that purpose is is unknown but we do know that it does have something to do with the 'royalty' of the city and of G corp. Don is a second bloodfiend, a moniker of royalty would not be unfitting. Ryoshu is the dihui stars daughter who I suspect might be related to some lineage of pinky members, especially since the blade seems to have been passed down, which may make ryoshu qualify for the moniker as well. Outis is a no-brainer, her source material is literally a king, and we will find out more about how she relates to this as we go on. The blue man group and Demian and their signs may cause Sinclair to also qualify for some status within the city, and whether a this is a building of a court ? Like separate sinners have separate roles or all of them qualify as the height of royalty, is unknown. Heathcliff has some foreshadowing already, with Nelly in his source material mentioning that he might be the son of a indian emperor and a Chinese empress or something along those lines, which points him to the purple tear and her capabilities. Now Ishmael is very much a mystery but since we know next to nothing regarding her, but I want to point out a couple things :

1. Her position when Ahab found her.

Ishmael was a wing Resident.

She was living a rather comfortable life within the wing, with the capacity to effectively lead a normal life until Ahab went and picked her up, which brings me to my next point.

2. Ahab picked her up specifically.

None of the other members of the crew are shown to be handpicked so specifically, and while I could just be wrong and they didn't show it, but it is rather strange that she incidentally found Ishmael, and incidentally ran into Ishmael right as she was contemplating leaving. How did she get into the wing in the first place ?

It all just paints a rather strange picture, along with her knowledge of DND in xi chuns intervallo, Ishmael seems to have just grown up as a normal girl, which is a very very very rare thing in the city.

Now while most of my evidence is circumstancial, I think it's fair to say that Ishmael may have some lore that we are yet to find out about and will explore in the later cantos or purgatorio.

Meursault is a complete mystery, and my best guess is he is from a rather well off family within N corp, considering he was able to review Vespa's file, and has a rather extensive knowledge of funerals, which are usually considered to be for rich people. That may further lead to him being some sort of successor/heir to somethinh that we truly have next to nothing about .

Faust is a special case since we know nill, zilch nada about her. But the existence of the Gesshelshaft makes her unique, and we truly have no idea how she fits here.

Yi sang contributed with the League of Nine to mirror technology and was valuable enough for N corp to capture and use. He was in the Wing before, and planned to get into T corp, so it's fair to say he was rather well off too. We don't know much about his family but it's possible is all I'm saying.

BUT.

THE OUTLIER HERE.

The black sheep in my theory.

IS RODYA.

Unlike the rest of the sinners, we have been told, time and time again that rodya is not special. Amongst bloodfiends, wings decisive weapons, relic wielders, cross dimensional orphaned sons and more, rodya is the bottom of the pile at being nothing special.

Which is why the true crux of my theory, is that rodya is a experiment by Diaz. To see how a person when surrounded by royalty of the city, could perhaps integrate herself into their circle and arise. As we know, emotion is a extremely powerful thing in the city. From egos to distortions to Mang needing memory to activate, emotion and experiences are the height of power. And well unlike the others, rodya is crushed by her own lack of specialty. Even in her story, she's nothing but another city dweller that pissed off a finger and is now meant to die. Without the company, rodya would have probably met her death at the hands of any one of the members of the middle, being nothing short of just another tick in the book of vengeance. So why did they go out of their way to get her ?

The theory, is that rodya is a guinea pig, a hamster to see if these experiences would allow her to arise to the kingdom which will one day be built by the sinners. The one mentioned by Dante when he crashed out in canto 9. My suspicion is that this is meant to be another ploy by Diaz or whoever to see if they can replicate such a process with themselves to elevate themselves to such a level.

I KNOW IT DOESN'T EXACTLY MAKE SENSE but I'm just spitballjng here and I

I've really got to go and sleep, I just wanted to jot it down.

[steelwoolkawa]

Looney tunes mirror world where the sinners solve all major problems by putting don into a canon with her shoe laces tied to the bottom and then launching her with a force that pulls her free of rocinante. Effectively sicking sancho on towns or small cities of “evil doers” while they all stay safe on some cliffside they launched her from, overlooking the chaos ensuing.

[ularou]

What Makes You Blind

Y/n is a woman, a witch in her own quiet way-sensitive to things others can't see, drawn to energies she doesn't fully understand. She's Annie's friend, not from here, not really belonging anywhere, and already tired of the kind of people this town attracts.

Then there's Remmick, a vampire who should've taken her the first chance he got-but didn't.

What starts as curiosity turns into something darker: tension, hunger, restraint. While chaos unfolds and blood is spilled, he doesn't choose her like prey... he waits.

And when everything burns down, when the night takes more than it gives..

---

Ladies get ready for a loooong and final chapter...

Enjoy!

FINAL CAP. 9

The next 3 weeks passed strangely, not peacefully. Nothing about what happened could ever be called peaceful. But quieter.

The nightmares came first. Some nights she woke because of screams that weren't there anymore. Smoke. Annie. Faces she had only known for hours and somehow would remember for years.

But every time, Remmick was there, sometimes sitting in the chair near the window, sometimes standing outside beneath the trees, unwilling to disturb her sleep. Sometimes beside her, but always there

The strange part was that he never asked her to stop talking about it.

Never told her to move on, never tried to explain it away. When she woke up shaking, he stayed, when she cried, he stayed, when she sat awake for hours staring into nothing, he stayed.

At first she hated that, because every comfort came from the same hands that had led her into the nightmare, and eventually it became too much. It happened late one night. The nightmare had been worse than usual. She'd seen Annie again, seen her die again.

He found her sitting on the kitchen floor before sunrise, knees pulled against her chest. For a while neither spoke.Then he quietly set a mug of tea on the counter.

Something inside her snapped. "Stop."

Remmick looked at her. "Stop what?"

"Being kind." The words left sharper than she intended.

Silence followed, the kind that made the room feel smaller.

His expression didn't change, she hated that too.

"You sit there and act like none of this happened."

"I do not."

"You comfort me."

His eyes remained on hers.

"You hold me when I cry."

Still silence.

"You look at me like I'm something precious." Her voice broke.

"And Annie is dead." The words finally landed, heavy, ugly, real

“Everyone… They're all gone” The kitchen suddenly felt too quiet.

Her eyes filled with tears again. "And all of it happened because of you."

There it was, the thing neither of them had spoken aloud.

The truth sitting between them since the night she opened the door.

Remmick lowered his gaze, not ashamed, not defensive. Just tired.

Anciently tired. "I know." He said, but not as an excuse neither an argument.

Just those two words, and somehow that made her angrier.

"You don't get to just say that."

"I know."

"Stop saying that." She said angry and sad at the same time

"I know."

She stood so fast the chair nearly fell over. "Then say something else!" The shout echoed through the house.

For the first time since she'd known him, Remmick looked genuinely helpless, not frightened, just helpless. Because there was nothing else to say. No explanation that could bring Annie back.

No apology large enough.

When he finally spoke, his voice came quieter than before.

"If I could change that night, I would."

She froze.

His eyes lowered briefly. "If I could bring them back, I would."

The words weren't dramatic, they sounded honest. "I have seen kingdoms disappear. Entire bloodlines vanish." His jaw tightened slightly. "And for all the years I've walked this earth, I have never found a way to return a soul once it has left."

Silence settled between them. "You think I do not know what was lost that night?" His gaze lifted back to hers. "You think I have not replayed it?" Something old flickered behind his eyes. "And, honey..." His voice softened. "I know we do not carry this grief the same way." Slowly, he stepped closer. "But I have carried grief." His gaze never left hers. "For longer than you can imagine." He paused. "I wanted many things when I entered that place." His voice roughened slightly.

"You were not supposed to be one of them." The confession landed harder than he intended. " I did not walk into that room planning to care whether any of you lived or died." Another pause. " But things took a different turn." His eyes remained fixed on hers. "And I know what you lost." The words came quietly. "I know why you wake before dawn." A small breath. "I know why you stop talking when certain memories find you." Another. "And I know that none of this becomes easier simply because I wish it would." Silence settled between them. "I cannot undo what happened."

His voice lowered. "But I can stay." His eyes softened slightly. "Even if it never passes completely.”

The sincerity hurt more than any excuse could have, because she can feel all the anger, but she believes him, she understands his point but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It would've been easier if he were a monster or if he behaves like one. But no, he is not. And now there she is, crying and shouting at him like if he weren't able to shut her up in a second. But then again he didn't we wouldn't, quite the opposite.

The anger and confusion were still there. She could feel it burning inside her chest, but it wasn't enough anymore, at least not enough to keep standing or shouting.

The exhaustion arrived first. Her body dropped toward the floor as another tear slipped free despite her efforts, she hated that, to cry in front of him, feeling weak. Hated that after everything, part of her still wanted comfort from the very person standing in front of her.

A shaky breath escaped her. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. He went over to her side.

The kitchen remained wrapped in darkness, the first pale hints of dawn hidden somewhere beyond the curtains, quiet.

The kind of silence that only existed after a storm.

When she finally spoke, her voice sounded smaller. "I don't know what to do with it."

Remmick didn't ask what she meant, he already knew.

"The Anger." Her throat tightened. "The guilt… I didn't fight back, I didn't do something, I wasn't really there… if I would…" Another breath.”Maybe Annie, or someone would still here" she was crying again

" Don't “ He said quietly shaking his head; his arm was already around her shoulders “ Don't put that on you"

The stayed in silence for a moment

" And crying for people I barely knew." She turned to him and laughed weakly through tears. "How does that even make sense?"

Remmick watched her carefully. "It makes perfect sense."

She shook her head. "It doesn't."

"It does."His answer came without hesitation.

"You mourn what could have been."

That made her look at him. "You mourn the conversations they'll never have." His voice remained quiet. "The years that will never happen." Another pause. "The possibility."

The word settled heavily between them, because that was exactly it.

Annie wasn't only Annie. She was every future memory that would never exist.

Every laugh, every argument, every ordinary day stolen before it could happen.

Y/n looked away quickly, the tears came harder after that. "Damn you..." The words broke apart halfway through, I wasn't a real insult. Remmick understood anyway.

A faint, sad smile touched his mouth. "I know."

That earned him a wet laugh despite everything, something softened in his expression at the sound.

She leaned sideways, her head was on his shoulder now, and for once neither of them said anything. The silence felt different now, not empty, just shared.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Time kept moving, slowly.. The house didn’t feel like a place of mourning anymore… but it also didn’t feel like home yet. Something in between.

A space that had learned to hold grief without breaking from it. The nightmares still came. But not every night and not intense anymore, when they appear, she no longer wakes up screaming. Sometimes just breathing too fast.

Sometimes just staring at the ceiling until reality settled back into place.

And every time— he was there. Sometimes just existing in the same silence, as if that alone was enough to keep her anchored.

There were mornings now that almost felt easy, normal, like everything had been just a bad dream.

She would make tea, he would already be awake reading something he didn’t really need to read. Watching her without making it obvious. She noticed anyway.

One morning, when she woke up she laughed softly. “I always forget you're always awake.”

He turned towards her. “I don’t sleep like you do.”

They look each other

“I know.”

And somehow that was enough, sometimes she danced while listening the radio. She loves dancing, that's something he clearly knows. Music lived inside her even when everything else had burned.

And he would stop moving, whenever he sees her dancing, he stops whatever he’s doing to admire her.

One night she caught him. “I’ll get nervous if you keep looking at me like that” she said while dancing

He smiled satisfied “no, you won't”

“I might, especially when you’re hiding there”

He remained quiet, just observing “I am learning you”

That made her stop for a second, and she didn’t know why it stayed with her after.

At night, sometimes, she sits outside with him. The river nearby.

Quiet water moving like time itself didn’t care what had happened there before. He never rushed those moments, never filled them with words. Just them, sitting together, watching nature.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The night felt warmer than usual. The river reflected the sky in broken pieces of light. She sat with her arms behind her back and her knees up, watching the water move. He was beside her as always.

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t heavy anymore, just familiar.

Then

“I’ve been thinking...” she said looking at sky

He turned slightly toward her.

She exhaled slowly. “I think I should leave.”

Silence for a moment

“This place… it doesn’t feel like before” she continued, her gaze stayed on the water. “I don’t hate it.” a faint breath.

“But I don’t belong to it anymore, well I never did… I don't feel myself anymore, not here”

A little pause, “so that's why I wanna leave"

Remmick studied her for a long moment. “Are you certain?”

She smiled slightly. “No., a beat “But I think that’s the point.” That made him look away briefly, as if something inside him understood too well.

"But I know, I don't wanna do it alone” she looked at him, deeply.

They looked at each other deeply, the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, it felt like theirs.

“If you want to, of course" she ended.

"My love, you know exactly what I want” he said

She smiled at him he touched her face, she leaned at his tocuh

Remmick's hand remained against her cheek for a moment longer.

The river continued moving beside them, indifferent to every promise ever made beneath the stars. Neither of them spoke again.

There was nothing left to discuss. Only a road waiting somewhere beyond the trees. And for the first time in weeks, that thought didn't frighten her. It felt like breathing.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The move happened quietly, not a dramatic farewell nor with a final look over her shoulder. Just boxes, books, a few clothes, herbs hanging upside down from kitchen beams, and a life that no longer fits inside those walls.

When the door closed behind her for the last time, she expected something of relief, sadness, or grief. Instead she felt strangely empty.

Remmick stood beside her in the fading light, waiting.

She looked at the house once more, then turned away, and together they left.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The months that followed felt different.

One night Remmick returned shortly after midnight, the scent of rain clung to his coat. So did blood, not his, never his.

He stepped through the front door expecting silence, instead he found music.

The living room glowed red from dozens of candles, the curtains were open, moonlight poured through the windows, and in the center of the room— Y/n danced, bare feet. Loose white fabric swirling around her legs. Arms raised toward the crimson moon hanging outside, ancient symbols drawn in chalk surrounded her, like whatever she's doing was already in motion.

Maybe another spell, he thought, Remmick stopped immediately. Watching, admiring as always. The air shimmered. He smiled amazed at her.

For a second the room filled with figures, women, dozens of them.

Shadows made from memory and magic.

Ancestors. Witches, generations stretching backward through time.

They danced with her, around her, through her.

Like living echoes.

Y/n smiled without opening her eyes. Remmick knows, knows very well that she can feel them, their presence, that she's not alone.

Apparently she did know she wasn't alone and not only spiritually

"You've been standing there for three minutes." She said without looking and never stop dancing.

His mouth curved. "Four."

That made her laugh now looking at him, she extended her hand for him to come in and take her.

He did and entered the room smiling at her, Remmick looked around, he could see and feel all of this energy and souls dancing in the room, he was amazed, he couldn't believe what he was watching, and so close, he let out a big a heavy breath, then he looked at her that was already dancing but never leaving his hands, he stopped her, he saw the souls once more and then at her, he took her cheek and went close to her.

" You have no idea what have you done" he said more that surprised

She went closer, “oh no, I do know, I can feel it, I just need time to see it" she said

He smiled satisfied and kissed her, needed and passionate.

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Another evening found them beside the fireplace.

Rain battered the windows, Y/n rested on the floor with her head against his legs while Remmick sat in an armchair. Reading. Or pretending to.

Mostly because she kept interrupting.

"You had brothers?"

"Several."

"What happened to them?"

A long pause.

His fingers moved slowly through her hair. “Time."

The answer carried centuries inside it, for a moment she thought he would stop there. Then surprisingly he continued. He told her about green hills, about stone houses, about horses, about fires burning through long winters, about a mother whose face he could barely remember now, about a sister who used to sing while working, about the women called witches and how intelligent and powerful they were.

About Ireland before history became history, and for hours she listened, not to a vampire, not to a monster. Just a man who had lived long enough to become a story.

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Sometimes he sang, usually when he thought she was asleep.

Old Irish songs, ancient melodies. The kind that sounded older than language itself.

One night she opened one eye and smiled.

"Oh." she reacted

The singing stopped. Immediately.

Remmick looked down. "What?"

"I know that one." She said

His eyebrow lifted. "You do?"

She sat up, then quietly began singing the next verse. His expression froze, an actual froze. For perhaps the first time since she'd met him. The look on his face made her laugh.

"What?"

"I did not know you could sing."

She smiled. "You don't know many things."

A beat.

Then he smiled too. “Don't stop"

And together they finished the song.

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The dancing lessons came later. Irish step dancing. Or at least Remmick's stubborn version of it.

"Again."

"I did it."

"You nearly injured yourself." He said

"I did not." She said smiling

"You absolutely did."

Y/n rolled her eyes and tried again, and failed again, and again until failed slightly less.

By the fifth attempt she finally managed several steps correctly.

The victory was small, her reaction wasn't, she practically launched herself at him.

Wrapping her arms around his neck. Laughing of happiness, jumping.

"I did it!"

"You did." His smile was impossible to miss.

For a second she stayed there. Comfortably trapped in his arms, then she tilted her head.

"This would've been much easier if you just turned me, you know? "

Remmick sighed. Already knowing where this was going, a quick kiss landed against her forehead.

"No."

"I mean all of this knowledge is shared, it is wonderful idea" She said, still smiling.

"It was terrible." He teased

"But I am right." She said

"No."

She groaned dramatically, just teasing him, He looked entirely too pleased about it.

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Another night found Remmick returning long after midnight. The house was quiet.

At least until he reached the second floor, a faint golden light slipped beneath one of the doors. His brow lifted slightly, slowly, he pushed it open.

The room smelled of herbs, candle wax and something older.

Magic.

A circle had been drawn across the wooden floor, the candles surrounded it in careful patterns and symbols covered pages scattered around the room.

And in the center, Y/n sat cross-legged inside a pentagram, completely focused on whatever spell she was working through. She didn't notice him at first, or maybe she did. It was often difficult to tell.

Remmick leaned against the doorway and simply watched.

The sight brought an unexpected smile to his face. Not surprise, not concern, just affection.

Eventually she looked up. "There you are."

His smile widened. “There I am."

Her eyes drifted toward the clock. "You're late."

"I know."

She returned her attention to the book in front of her.

"So are you summoning spirits?"

"No."

"A demon?"

".... Maybe." She smiled "No”

"A curse?"

That finally made her laugh. “No."

Remmick stepped closer, stopping carefully outside the circle while his gaze moved over the symbols surrounding her. The candles. The herbs. The concentration on her face. Everything.

"I love that you're a witch."

That made her look up again, a genuine smile appeared immediately. "That sounded very random."

"It wasn't." His eyes softened. "You're the one sitting on the floor at two in the morning drawing symbols and talking to dead women."

Y/n laughed. The sound filled the room.

Remmick leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, careful not to disturb the circle. Then he straightened again.

"Carry on, my beautiful witch."

For some reason that made her smile for the rest of the night.

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Another evening found Y/n curled up on the couch, a blanket draped across her legs and book resting in her hands. The rain tapped softly against the windows.

For once the house was completely peaceful, or at least it had been.

Until Remmick appeared, without warning, as usual.

One moment she was reading, the next she felt lips brush lightly against the side of her neck.

Y/n didn't even look up. "Hello to you too."

A low chuckle answered her. His hands settled at her waist while he leaned over the back of the couch.

"I've missed you."

"You saw me twenty minutes ago."

"An eternity."

She rolled her eyes not angry and turned a page. Remmick watched her for a moment. Then kissed her neck again.

Slower this time. Y/n continued reading, or at least pretended to. His smile deepened immediately.

"I am hungry."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Then you should probably go eat."

He sucked her neck this time, y/h exhale at the feeling, she tried hard to hide it

"I should, right?." He said rough

"Yes." She said almost in a breath

Then another sucking, and this time he placed his hand on her chest and started massaging..

"You are not leaving, are you?"

"No."

"I figured."

Then his other hand went to her neck, her chin "You know exactly what I mean."

"Oh, really??... I don't."

"Oh, you do." He said making her look at him while the other hand remained in her chest playing with it.

"I really don't."

That earned him a soft laugh, the kind she only heard when they were alone.

One of his hands found hers, closing the book without asking, slowly.

His eyes were darker and immediately she knew he had won.

Again.

"That 's cheating."

"It worked."

She narrowed her eyes. He looked entirely too pleased with himself. And then kissed her, rough and possessive, his hand kept playing with her while the other reminded in her neck.

Y/n reached toward the lamp beside the couch. The room darkened.

Remmick's smile grew. "Ah."

"Don't get used to it." She said between kisses

“Mmmh" he simply answered with that hum

In a movement, she could go away from him, and just by the look of his face, she knew she would have problems, delicious one.

She walked backwards to the room, without taking my eyes off him, he was following her.

She smiled “How do you want me tonight, Remmick?"

His eyes turned red, dark red

“Do you want me quiet? Do you want me loudly?"

He smiled, they were already in the room

“Do you want me to beg for my life… begging you to let me??

"Be careful of what you ask, my love” he was on her in one movement.

Remmick was on her in a single movement. Y/n laughed, though the sound didn't last long.

The bedroom door closed behind them.

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The years moved differently after all, not faster, not slower, just quietly.

One season becoming another until neither of them could remember exactly when the house had become home.

They traveled, more than she ever imagined she would. Small towns hidden between mountains. Forgotten forests. Ancient ruins swallowed by time. Places that existed only because no one remembered they were still there, and eventually— Ireland.

The moment she stepped onto the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic, the wind nearly stole her breath. Dark waves crashed violently against black stone far below.

The sea seemed endless. Wild and ancient.

Remmick stood beside her with his hands tucked into his coat pockets while her hair whipped around her face. For a long moment neither spoke, he was so thoughtful.

"You miss it." She told him.

His eyes remained on the horizon. "Sometimes."

That alone told her how much, because Remmick almost never admitted missing anything. They spent weeks there. Green hills stretching beneath endless clouds, old churches, stone circles older than memory, villages where stories still survived.

Places where people spoke of spirits and fair folk with enough certainty to make outsiders uncomfortable. She loved every second of it. Especially the places history had forgotten, the ruined forts, the burial mounds, the old coastal paths.

One afternoon he took her somewhere he had not seen in centuries. Nothing remained of it now. Only grass and wind, a few scattered stones. Yet when she looked at him, she understood immediately.

"This was yours."

A long silence followed. "My family lived here." The words barely rose above the wind.

She slipped her hand into his.

He held it tightly. Neither of them let go for a very long time.

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The years continued, and slowly, almost imperceptibly—

Y/n changed. At first it was nothing. A silver strand she found while brushing her hair, then another, and other. She noticed it, she knew everything was becoming different, at least physically, time was starting to take its course. Slowly, but significant.

Sometimes she noticed Remick's eyes lingered longer than they should have. She didn't say anything, she didn't feel bad about it, she knew, because it was not fear nor disgust. It was something quieter and heavier, like he was trying to memorize her. Every version of her. Before time decided for him. And she was intelligent enough to know.

The years are still changing her, and somehow they have only made her more beautiful for him.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Seasons layered over each other until they blurred. Autumn became her favorite in the same way it always had been.

One of those autumns, Remmick went quiet. Not distant. Just… elsewhere. As if part of him was no longer entirely in the room with her.bY/n noticed immediately. She always did.

On the fourth evening she found him by the fireplace.

"Hey… are you okay?" she asked, sitting beside him.

His eyes lifted from the fire. "Yeah, my love."

It wasn’t convincing.

"What 's going on? Do you want to talk?" Silence stretched between them.

Then— "August fifteenth."

His gaze stayed on the flames, for a moment, nothing moved in the room, then he spoke again.

"I watched my country die." The air changed.

"I watched villages burn. I watched children starve. My people…" His jaw tightened. "I watched men I knew hung from trees." The fire cracked softly, the only sound left alive. "I watched everything disappear." His voice lowered. "The language. The songs. The stories." A pause. Something fragile in him surfaced. "I thought if I survived long enough… I could remember them for everyone."

Y/n’s chest tightened. She knew history. But this wasn’t history. This was a memory still bleeding.Remmick let out a quiet, humorless breath. "Turns out even memory fades."

That was the first time she saw it so clearly. Not just pain.

Ancient grief. The kind that never stops happening, it only learns how to stay quiet. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him. At first he didn’t respond. Just stayed still, as if unsure he was allowed to break. Then slowly, he leaned into her, and something inside him finally stopped holding.

Later that night they stayed awake long after the fire died. Talking in the dark the way people only do when they don’t need to be seen.

Ireland. Loss. Memory. Everything that had no place in daylight, and somewhere between words, the conversation shifted. Softer. More dangerous in its honesty.

Remmick looked at her for a long time. "You gave up a great deal."

She frowned slightly. "Did I?"

"A family." The word sounded unfamiliar in his mouth. "A normal life."

Understanding came slowly. "Oh."

His gaze lowered. "I think about it sometimes."

"Remm—"

"What if you wanted children?"

Y/n let out a small breath, then smiled faintly "wey, I don’t know either."

His eyes lifted.

"I’ve never looked at a baby and thought: yes. That’s exactly what I need right now." She said

A quiet laugh escaped him. Real. Small. "I imagine you’d terrify most parents."

"I would be an excellent mother tho." she said proudly.

"Without doubt." A pause. "But I also know you would try to summon ghosts to babysit them."

"They would be well educated."

That did it. He laughed again. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Stop worrying that I’m missing my life." …. "I am living it…With you." She said.

And for the first time that night, something in him eased.

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Years didn’t stop after that, they simply kept going. Slow and quick at the same time.

Silver became white in her hair. Her steps slowed without losing their certainty.

And Remmick—he never once looked at her like she was fading. He still looked at her like the first time.

Time has changed her but never the way they treat each other.

This afternoon was beautiful, they decided to go to a small village café, they were spending the time each other everything was wonderful until it happened without warning: the waitress smiled politely as she set down their drinks.

Ok“Your son is very handsome.” she told to Y/N

Silence… uncomfortable

Remmick was about to speak up. But she stopped him

The waitress walked away, unaware she had just cracked something open between them. Remmick stared at the table. Y/n reached for his hand. Didn’t speak. Just held it and smiled. His fingers tightened around hers like instinct. Like grounding.

Neither of them mentioned it. But something changed after that.

Time wasn’t theoretical anymore. It was visible.

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Then the signs began, clearly… for her. At first, she thought they were simple things she noticed. But then, the way animals paused when she passed, the way dreams filled with voices she had never learned to call, the way the wind sometimes felt like it was speaking her name.

She didn’t tell him immediately, she didn’t need to.

One night, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, she woke and found him already awake. As if he had been waiting.

“You’re awake.” she said

“Naturally” he responds

She smiled, then silence between them, then—softly “My time is getting close.”

That broke him in a way nothing else had. “No.” Not loud. Not dramatic, just immediate, like a reflex “I know what you—"

She turned toward him fully. “Remmick.”

“No.” again, sharper. “Don’t.” They stood in silence then he looked at her like he was seeing something he had been trying not to see for decades, the lines in her face, the silver in her hair, the inevitability of it all.

“You love sunrises,” he said suddenly, his voice was rough, controlled only barely, “You love spring.” another breath. “You like dancing at sunrise.” His hand tightened slightly. “You feel alive in the morning.” His gaze dropped " And you won’t have any of that forever…. I don't want to take this away from you” That landed differently…

Y/n reached for his face, holding him gently. “Remmick…”

His eyes were already breaking in a way he refused to show fully. “I am going to die anyway.” Silence between them “I am not afraid of it.”

a soft breath. “But I don’t want death to be where we end.” That was the truth, it wasn't panic nor pleading, just truth. “I know what this is,” she whispered. “I know what immortality costs.” Her thumb brushed his cheek. “You spent our time together trying to make sure I understood.” a faint, sad smile “ and I do understand.”

His voice barely held. “You won’t come back the same.”

“I won’t come back at all.” silence. “and I don’t want to leave you behind in a world where I exist and then… won't.” a breath. “I would rather stay with you.”

That did it, not because it was dramatic, because it was chosen, after everything, still chosen. And for the first time in centuries, Remmick had no argument left that wasn’t grief.

Silence settled between them, not an uncomfortable silence. It was like the kind that only existed between two people who had already said the most frightening thing aloud. Remmick never looked away from her. She could almost see the battle inside him. Duty, love, selfishness, mercy. All tearing at one another. Finally, she smiled. Not because she had won, It was because she knew him.

"You don't have to answer tonight."

He closed his eyes. "...No."

She brushed her fingers through his hair." Just think about it." Another long silence. Then, almost absentmindedly, she laughed. “You know..."

His eyes opened again.

"Before I met you..." She looked toward the ceiling. "I spent most of my life hiding."

He frowned.

"This magic believes…." She smiled softly. "My grandmother used to say that every woman in our family learned two things before learning to read… to survive....and to keep quiet." A quiet breath escaped her. "We didn't tell people what we were." She looked down at her own hands. "I even hid it from Annie for years."

Remmick listened without interrupting.

"I trusted her, yes," she smiled. "But even then...I measured every spell, every herb, every symbol… I never wanted someone I loved to fear me." She turned back toward him. "And then I met you." A small laugh. "You walked into my life already dead."

That earned the smallest smile from him. "And somehow...I never needed to hide again." She reached for his hand. "You watched me dance under the moon, watched me cover entire rooms in runes… You kissed my forehead while I was sitting inside pentagrams." Another smile. " And you never once asked me to be smaller." Her thumb brushed across his knuckles. "So whatever happens next...I won't be walking into it afraid." Remmick lifted her hand to his lips.

She leaned forward until their foreheads rested together. "Think about it…Not tonight…Just think."

He nodded, and eventually...for the first time in hours...they slept.

---

Several days passed. Neither of them mentioned the conversation again. Not because it had been forgotten. Because both of them were thinking about it.

She spent long afternoons in the room upstairs, surrounded by books older than either of them cared to admit, candles, ink, runes, sometimes he found her reading.

Sometimes grinding herbs. Sometimes speaking softly in languages no longer spoken. He never interrupted. Only watched.

One evening he returned carrying a weathered wooden box. He set it gently on the kitchen table, she looked up from the pages spread before her.

"So." He said and removed his coat, for a long moment neither spoke then he crossed the room and sat beside her. "I've thought about it."

She waited.

"If this is still what you want..." His voice nearly failed him. "...I'll do it."

She reached for his hand immediately. He tightened his grip before continuing. "It will hurt."

She nodded. "I know."

"The bite, the hunger, then the years, the things you'll lose." Another pause. “The sun."

She smiled sadly. "I know."

"You'll never truly be alive again." He continued

"I know."

"You'll carry death inside you forever." He lowered his head. "And I hate that."

Silence, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek." I know."

He looked at her. "So...When?"

Her smile widened.”Not yet."

He blinked. " What?"

She stood. "I've spent months preparing."

That caught him completely off guard. “You... what?"

She laughed. "You thought I asked you to think while I did nothing?"

She walked toward the shelves filled with jars and old manuscripts.

"I had to solve one thing first."

His brow furrowed. “the age."

She looked back. "If you turn me today..." She touched the silver in her hair. "...I’ll remain like this"

Understanding slowly crossed his face. "You don't want that."

"It isn't vanity." She shook her head. "I earned every year."

Every wrinkle, every scar, every gray hair. She thought

" and I don't want to erase them." She said and smiled gently. "I want to say goodbye to them."

Remmick watched her without speaking. She opened the wooden box she had hidden beneath the worktable. Inside rested carved stones, bundles of herbs, ancient pigments, small pieces of iron engraved with ogham, and beside them, symbols from her own bloodline.

"I've been building something new." She looked almost excited

His expression became serious. "But you've never done this."

"No." She grinned. “Which makes this either my greatest achievement...or my last mistake."

He did not smile "I know you're truly capable but…"

She reached for his face. "It'll work."

"How do you know?" He said

"I don't." Then she laughed. " But magic has always required a little faith." She became quiet again. " When my heart stops..."

his entire body tensed. "...don't hesitate." He stared at her. "I'll know."

"And when you see the final mark begin to glow..." She touched one of the runes she intended to paint over her skin. " ....that will be me. My body will have reached the age I chose. That's when you bite.”

He swallowed. "...if I get delayed? "

"The spell won't stop. It'll keep undoing me.” She smiled. “And eventually...I'll become younger, younger and younger…. Until there's nothing left."

Silence.

She rested both hands against his chest. " So don't miss." She smiled at him, for the first time in centuries… Remmick laughed through tears.

He looked at her deeply "I won't." Said while gently stroked her cheek

Neither of them said it aloud, but they both understood. This wasn't a rejection of the woman she had become. It was a way of honoring her.

She had lived every one of those years, Remmick took it upon himself to do it and she had loved it. Now… she was choosing where eternity would begin.

When darkness settled over the forest, Remmick disappeared for a little while. She knew where he had gone before he returned carrying the old violin she had heard so many times throughout the years. A smile spread across her face. He needed no further invitation.

The first note floated beneath the crimson moon, slow and haunting, older than the trees surrounding them. Y/n closed her eyes. Her body remembered before her mind did. Bare feet pressed against cool grass as she began to move, not performing for anyone, not following steps, simply dancing the way she always had, with the wind in her sleeves and the earth beneath her feet. Remmick watched between melodies. The white in her hair shimmered silver beneath the moonlight. The lines around her eyes deepened every time she smiled. She had changed, wonderfully, beautifully. He had loved every version. The music continued until the moon stood high above them. Eventually the final note faded into the quiet. She walked toward him without saying a word. He rested his forehead against hers.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He wasn't sure whether she meant the music…or the lifetime, perhaps both.

---

She slipped from bed before dawn. Quietly enough that any ordinary man would have slept through it. Remmick wasn't an ordinary man.

By the time she reached the river winding through the forest, she already knew he was there. Hidden somewhere among the pines. Watching, just as the first time they met.

The morning mist floated across the water as she stepped into the river, laughing softly at the cold. Autumn had stolen most of the summer warmth, but she welcomed it anyway. She swam farther from the shore. Then stopped. Without turning around, she smiled.

"You know..."

Silence answered.

"You've never been particularly good at hiding from me."

A quiet laugh drifted through the trees.

"I wasn't trying."

She finally looked toward the forest. He stood beneath the shelter of ancient oaks where the first sunlight could not yet reach him. Only his outline was visible, she lifted one hand. "Come in." She said.

He glanced toward the brightening horizon before looking back at her. "No." His expression softened. "I wanted you to have it to yourself."

For a long moment neither moved, then the first light climbed over the distant hills. Gold spilled across the river, across the mist, across her face.

Remmick remained in the shadows beneath the trees, watching the woman he loved welcome the morning one final time. She turned toward him. Their eyes met across the water.

---

She slept through most of the afternoon. When she woke, the house smelled faintly of herbs and beeswax. Remmick was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't surprised, he was giving her space. By the time the sun disappeared, the house had grown quiet. Outside, the moon rose once more, then red and patient. Y/n climbed the stairs carrying the weathered wooden box beneath one arm.

When she pushed open the attic door, Remmick was already there. He had cleared the entire room, the floor waited. Empty, and ready. The attic was silent.

Only the wind outside and the quiet crackle of dozens of candles accompanied them.

3the weathered wooden box on the floor before kneeling beside it. One by one she lifted its contents with practiced care. Bundles of dried herbs. Small carved stones. Iron pieces engraved with ogham. Tiny pouches filled with ash collected from sacred fires. Finally, a folded piece of cloth containing the pigments she had prepared over months. Without speaking, she began arranging everything, salt formed the outer circle, herbs followed, runes, some belonged to her ancestors. Others belonged to his.

Old symbols from two peoples who had both survived by refusing to disappear. Remmick watched from the edge of the room. He didn't dare interrupt, when the final candle was lit, she looked up at him. "I need you inside."

His brow lifted slightly. “My love, we're in the middle of something" he joked.

She smiled back "later”

He stepped forward without hesitation."So the spell recognizes us both" .

She smiled. ”Correct"

He got closer and kissed her.

The scent of rosemary, cedar and beeswax filled the room, then she picked up a small ceremonial blade. Remmick's entire body tensed.

She noticed immediately. "It's only enough to wake the spell."

"It's okay." He said

She drew the blade carefully across her palm, a single crimson line appeared. The first drop of blood struck one of the carved runes. Every candle flickered at once. Remmick inhaled sharply, the scent reached him instantly.His eyes darkened for only a heartbeat before he forced himself to look away. She caught the movement, a warm smile crossed her face.

"You've always had remarkable self-control."

"For you." He clarified

She reached over and kissed him before pressing her blood against several symbols painted across her arms and chest. The runes absorbed it. Slowly...they awakened, a faint golden glow spread beneath her skin. She stepped toward him one last time.

"So." She cupped his face between both hands. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

His composure finally cracked, he leaned forward and kissed her, not hurried nor desperate, it was a kiss that carried every season they had lived together. When they finally separated, their foreheads remained together..Then turned toward the center of the circle. She lowered herself carefully onto the symbols she had spent months creating. The room became impossibly still, her voice rose in a language Remmick had never heard, the words flowed like water through the room, weaving together her ancestors and his old magic binding itself to older grief. One candle extinguished itself, then another, the air grew heavy, her breathing slowed…slower… and slower still, until it stopped.

Remmick was already moving before he realized it, he fell to his knees beside her. "Y/n..." No answer, he reached for her hand, it was cold, her pulse was gone, his chest tightened. Then he remembered.

When you see it... you'll know. He forced himself to wait, seconds stretched into eternities, nothing happened. Then… one strand of white hair darkened, then another, the wrinkles across the back of her hands softened, age retreated like the tide, years folded into themselves, her face grew younger with quiet, impossible grace, not all at once. Little by little, as though time itself were remembering her.

Remmick watched every change without blinking.

Years by years, then her forties, her thirties, then… the runes painted across her skin burst into a warm golden light. His breath caught, there she was, the woman who had walked into that forest alone all those years ago. The woman he had met beneath blood and fire. Exactly as she had been, he smiled through tears.

"There you are..." He slipped one arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her gently against his chest. She was still cold. "I've got you." His fingers brushed a loose strand of dark hair away from her face.

Then, with heartbreaking tenderness...he kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry." His lips found her neck, he closed his eyes, and did what she had asked of him. He bit her, he sucked all of her, her taste was unique, it was just as he remembered it… those moments when she let him do it. He held her as though afraid she might break. Never letting her fall, time disappeared, only when he felt the change begin, he pulled away. He gathered her completely into his arms. Waiting, minutes passed and he simply held her, then… the fingers resting weakly against his shoulder twitched, a slow breath entered her lungs, then another, her hand slid uncertainly across his back.

"...Remmick..."

He laughed, actually laughed. Relief broke through centuries of restraint as he buried his face against her hair. "You came back."

She blinked several times before looking up at him, everything looked sharper, every flame, every sound.

He touched her face with trembling hands. "How do you feel?"

She considered the question, then smiled weakly. "...Dead." she laughed

He stared for half a second, then laughed harder than she had ever heard him laugh, she lifted one shoulder "hey, my back doesn't hurt anymore." she flexed her fingers. "my knees either." She looked down at her own hands in amazement. "They're... young." Then it happened, without warning, she gasped, her expression changed completely, involuntary tears filled her eyes, she looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. "...Remmick."

He understood instantly, it was the bond, it had begun. Fragments flooded between them, she saw green Irish hills through a child's eyes. Smoke rising from burning villages, the weight of centuries, loneliness so vast it had become familiar.

He, in turn, saw moonlit forests, a little girl learning runes from weathered hands, her family, her mothers… the way she ended up alone. Annie laughing in a greenhouse. Every sunrise Y/n had ever stopped to admire. Every reason she had continued choosing life.

The memories crashed together until neither could tell where one ended and the other began. Instinctively, she threw her arms around him, he held her just as tightly, neither spoke, they didn't need words.

After a long while, he gently reached toward the wooden box."I have something for you." He said

She looked up, puzzled.

He opened it, inside rested several carefully preserved bags of blood.

Her eyes widened. "You... prepared this?"

"I thought you might need it." He lifted one carefully and placed it in her hands.

"Take your time, my love."

She looked from the bag back to him, deeply moved by the quiet care behind the gesture, even now… he had been thinking steps ahead, still taking care of her.

With trembling fingers, she brought the bag to her lips. The seal broke easily, and the scent hit her—rich, dark, alive. She hesitated for only a heartbeat before she drank.

The first taste was like lightning. Her entire body seized, her pupils blew wide, swallowing the warm brown of her eyes until only a thin ring of color remained. A broken sound escaped her throat, half gasp, half moan, as the blood flooded her senses. She drank with a desperate, primal hunger she had never known she possessed. Her hands gripped the bag, knuckles white, and she couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. It was ambrosia, it was fire, it was everything.

She pulled back, gasping, her lips slick and red. Blood dribbled down her chin, tracing a path along her throat, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. More dripped from the corner of her mouth, staining her chest where it had spilled in her urgency. The sight was feral, beautiful, utterly undone.

"Oh my god," she breathed, voice wrecked. "This is what you feel? Every time?" She stared at him, eyes wide and gleaming. "This is what I taste like to you?"

Remmick's jaw tightened. His voice was low, rough as gravel. "You have always tasted better."

She lifted the bag again, not bothering to wipe her mouth, and drank more deeply this time. When she finally lowered it, her mouth was painted crimson, her chin wet, her neck streaked with red rivulets disappearing beneath the torn neckline of her shift. Blood smeared across her collarbone, her chest, a mess of hunger and abandon.

She licked her lips slowly, savoring, and then she looked at him—really looked at him. Her voice dropped to something raw, almost awed.

"How could you ever resist?" The words hung in the air, drenched in meaning.

Remmick's eyes darkened, pupils dilating until they swallowed the pale blue. A low growl rumbled in his chest. His gaze dropped to her mouth—that beautiful, bloody mouth—then flicked back to her eyes, then down again. He couldn't look away. His breath came faster, heavier.

Then, a thin line of drool slipped from the corner of his lips. He didn't wipe it away. He didn't seem to notice. His entire being was focused on her, on the blood, on the sight of her so utterly undone.

They moved at the same time, he crashed into her, and she into him. Their mouths met in a kiss that was nothing like the tender ones before. It was fierce, bruising, a collision of teeth and tongue and desperate need. He tasted the blood on her lips—his blood, hers—and groaned into her mouth, his hands fisting in her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. She clawed at his shoulders, at his back, nails raking down his spine as she kissed him back with equal ferocity.

His control was gone. She could feel it in the way his hands shook, in the guttural sounds he made against her mouth, in the way he devoured her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his chest heaving. His mouth was stained now too, smeared with the evidence of their shared hunger.

He kissed her again, harder, all restraint abandoned. His hands found her waist, gripping with enough force to leave bruises, and she welcomed it—the pressure, the possessiveness, the desperate way he pulled her against him like she might vanish if he let go.

She broke the kiss this time, gasping for air she didn't need, and looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, blood still glistened on her lips, her chin. Without a word, she took the bag of blood he had prepared and brought it to her lips again. But this time, she didn't drink. She tilted her head back and let it pour, the dark red liquid cascaded down her throat, over her chest, soaking through the thin fabric of her shift. It painted her skin in glistening rivers, pooling in the hollow between her breasts, dripping down her stomach, her white dress covering of blood, completely, she was a mess, she was magnificent. He gasped at the sight

She didn't wait for him to move, she reached out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him forward. That caught him off guard, she was stronger. She climbed into his lap, straddling him where he sat on the attic floor.

She smiled at him, slow and knowing. "Come here." she whispered in his ear.

He didn't think twice and started to kiss, suck every single drop of blood on her, her neck, her collarbone, her breast, she moaned at the sensation of his tongue and teeth, she rocked against him instinctively, his hands found her hips instantly, steadying her, gripping her harder, guiding her.

She brought the bag to her lips one final time, took a mouthful of blood, and then leaned down—slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked on his.

She kissed him, but this time she fed him. The blood passed from her mouth to his, warm and thick and intoxicating. He groaned against her lips, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through his entire body. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he drank from her mouth like a starving man.

He was growling that seemed to come from somewhere ancient and feral. His tongue swept against hers, sharing the lingering taste of blood, he was kissing her harder and harder, this time there was nothing gentle in it, she moaned into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan. She kept rocking, rubbing herself against him, his hands slid from her hips to her thighs, then up, pushing the soaked fabric off.

His touch was burning, desperate, every barrier crumbling between them.

"If I cause you any pain, let know" he breathed against her mouth, the words torn from somewhere deep.

She pulled back just enough to look at him—really look at him. Her blood was on his face, his lips, his chin. His control was shattered. He was wrecked for her, and she had never seen anything more beautiful. She reached down and pressed her palm flat against his chest.

"I think I can handle it" she said, her voice command wrapped in a plea “Don’t hold back this time”.

His gaze snapped to hers, and something in him broke. His hands found the back of her neck, pulling her down harder into another bruising kiss, all teeth and hunger and the taste of copper.

She answered him in kind, rolling her hips against his, feeling him harden beneath her, and the low growl that rumbled from his chest sent a shiver down her spine. His hands left her neck, sliding down her back, feeling how soaked she was, he found the hem. He gripped it, pulled, and the ruined cloth tore easily, peeling away from her body like a second skin, she gasped against his mouth, the heat of his hands on her, his fingers splaying across her ribs, her stomach, tracing the curves of her like he was memorizing her all over again.

She broke the kiss, never stopping rubbing on him. She threw her head back as his mouth found her throat. He didn't hesitate. His lips latched onto the column of her neck, tasting the remnants of blood still drying there, and she moaned—loud, wanton, unashamed. His teeth grazed her and she felt the sharp edge of his restraint, the way he held himself back even now, it was unreal, hard to believe that now, she was like him.

"I said don't hold back" she breathed, her fingers twisting in his hair, pulling his face closer. "Bite me, Remmick. Hurt me or not, do whatever you please"

As an answer, he growled and vibrated against her skin, and then his mouth was everywhere—her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. He kissed, licked, sucked, leaving a trail of dark marks in his wake, claiming her in a way that went beyond possession. This was worship. This was hunger. This was centuries of want finally unleashed.

Her hips rolled against his again, kissing him, moaning, needy. He smiled at her rush, and stopped her by taking her from her neck and chin. She looked at him and tried again to kiss him but he was stronger, he didn't let her. She smiled at his control and dominance. With his hand still on her neck, applying gentle pressure, he guided her backwards until she was lying down, his finger went to her mouth, making her open it.

He leaned down to her and began to plant kisses all over her body, from her neck, shoulders and breasts, down to her stomach, until he reached her sex.

He started kissing it, savouring it, tasting it, devouring it. Her fingers went to his hair, taking him hard, stroking it, she covered her mouth with her other hand to stop herself from moaning too loudly, she failed because she was letting out cries of pleasure.

Remmick noticed it, he looked up at her from down there and pulled her hand away from her mouth. “No, no, I want to hear you"

She let her head fall back as he continued; he slid his hand down to her breasts, playing with them whilst kissing her urgently, his tongue picking up the rhythm. The hand caressing her leg went directly to her entrance and started touching her, focusing on her most sensitive area. Just when he saw she was ready, he slipped two fingers inside her, giving her non-stop pleasure. Right on the verge of making her come.

He let her go, sitting up slightly as he realised the mess he’d made her do. In desperation, she stood up to kiss him, she reached down to his trousers fumbling with the fastenings, her fingers clumsy with desperation. His hands covered hers, stilling them. She looked up, confused.

"Let me," he rasped, his voice shot through with need.

He took his clothes off and threw them away, his body covered hers, caging her in, and the weight of him was everything she had ever wanted.

He hovered above her, his chest heaving, his face a mask of barely controlled desire. His pupils were blown so wide they almost swallowed the iris. His lips were still stained with the shared blood. A thin line of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth, and he didn't even seem to notice, he didn't even care. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands. Her thumb traced the line of drool, smearing it across his lips. She brought her thumb to her own mouth, tasting herself on him, and smiled. Something in him snapped. His mouth crashed down on hers, devouring her again, his hand slid between them, finding her core. She gasped into his kiss as his fingers found her slick and ready, and he groaned at the feel of her.

He positioned himself between her thighs, and she felt the head of his cock press against her entrance. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and desperate, and he held her gaze as he pushed inside.

"You're so wet," he breathed against her lips, his voice reverent.

He started to move, she cried out at the stretch, the fullness, the burn of him filling her inch by agonizing inch. He paused, letting her adjust, his forehead dropping to hers. His breath was ragged, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding still. No matter how many years they've done this. This one feels different, big different.

He began with measured, controlled movements, but without asking, he started to intensify them, thrusting into her fiercely, he watched her fall apart, watched her face contort with pleasure, and the sight drove him mad. He added his thumb circling her clit with devastating precision. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the sound that tore from his throat was almost animalistic.

“Ahh… mmm Remm—” her moans were louder, she couldn't control herself anymore.

His pace quickened, losing all rhythm, all control just by hearing her, he was a creature of pure instinct now, driving into her with a desperation that bordered on savage. She met him thrust for thrust, her nails raking down his back, her cries filling the attic, mingling with his growls and the wet sound of their bodies colliding.

"Remmick," she gasped, her voice breaking. "I'm—"

"I know," he growled, his hand finding her clit, circling it with practiced precision. "Let go. Let me feel it."

She shattered. Her body arched off the floor, a scream tearing from her throat as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Her inner walls clenched around him, and the sensation was too much. With a guttural roar, he followed her over, spilling inside her as he buried his face in her neck.

They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, their hearts pounding in unison. His breathing was ragged against her skin, and she could feel the tremors still wracking his body.

Slowly, he lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were softer now, the storm finally calmed. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.

"I love you," he said, the words raw and honest. "More than anything. More than everything."

She smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. Her fingers came away streaked with blood—his blood, from where she had clawed his back.

"I know," she whispered. "I love you too."

He kissed her again, soft and tender this time, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before. And when he pulled back, there was something like wonder in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She considered the question, then laughed—a bright, exhausted sound. "Alive," she said. "Really, truly alive."

He smiled "Good," he said, gathering her into his arms and pulling her against his chest. "I couldn't imagine my life without you."

She nestled into him, her head tucked beneath his chin, and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. The attic was quiet now, the candles burned low, and the first hints of dawn were creeping through the small window.

“Me neither” she said…

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

— Few Months Later —

The night air was cool and sweet, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth and distant wildflowers. They walked through the outskirts of a small village, hidden beneath the canopy of ancient oaks, their footsteps silent on the damp ground.

She moved differently now. Lighter. Freer. There was a grace in her step that hadn't been there before, a confidence that came from knowing exactly who she was and what she was capable of. Her dark hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, and her eyes—those warm brown eyes—held a glint of something ancient and powerful.

Remmick walked beside her, his hand resting on the small of her back, a quiet gesture of possession that had become second nature. He watched her as she moved, marveling at the way the moonlight seemed to cling to her skin, the way she seemed to glow from within.

She caught him staring and smiled. "What?"

He shook his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just... you."

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her expression betrayed her. "You're incorrigible."

"Centuries of practice," he said, and she laughed.

They continued walking, the village lights flickering in the distance. It was peaceful—a quiet night in a quiet corner of the world. They had traveled to places together. Life feels different now

She loved it. The freedom of movement, the way her body responded to every impulse without the ache of age. She was young again and she embraced it with a joy that was almost childlike. When they found small gatherings, when the music started, she couldn't help herself. She would move, her hips swaying, her arms lifting, her feet finding rhythms that seemed to come from somewhere deep and ancient.

When she danced, she saw them, for the first time she saw her ancestors. The women who had come before her, the mothers, the grandmothers, the great-aunts who had whispered spells into the wind, their presence a warmth that wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. Before, she had only felt them—a tug at her heart, a whisper in her ear. Now she could see them. They danced with her, their movements echoing hers, their eyes gleaming with pride and love. She had never felt more connected. More whole.

Remmick watched her every time. He couldn't help it. She was mesmerizing, a force of nature that pulled him in and held him captive. But it was more than just her beauty, more than just the way her body moved. When she danced, the boundaries between worlds grew soft and permeable.

Simply because he was present in her performances, his ancestors returned just the same; they were there with everyone with him. His people, the ones he had lost. He had always seen them ever since she first danced for him. But they had never been as present as they are now that she is a vampire; what he had been striving for over the centuries, she made that happen, with her dancing, her connection to the old magic, her innocent invocation of the spirits. She opened the door for him, and they stepped through. Every time. She was his bridge, his anchor, his home.

After he saw her dance, he had spent so long searching for Samuel, convinced that the boy was the key to reaching his ancestors, to finding his people. But he had been wrong, she was his connection. She was his salvation. And he would spend eternity grateful for her.

---

That night, a lovely 70s atmosphere, lights, people – a night full of life, they followed the sound of music.

It drifted through the warm summer air, a guitar strumming a melancholy melody, a voice rough and raw and full of a pain that felt familiar. It came from a small bar at the edge of the village, its windows glowing with amber light, the sound spilling out into the night.

She stopped, tilting her head, listening. Her hand found his, squeezing gently.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, her voice soft.

He nodded. He heard it. And something in his chest tightened, a ghost of the old hunger, the old obsession. But it was different now. Quieter. More distant. They walked toward the sound, their steps unhurried, and pushed open the door.

The bar was small, crowded with people lost in the music. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, curling around the dim lights. A jukebox sat in the corner, silent and forgotten. All attention was on the small stage at the back, where a man sat on a worn wooden stool, his fingers dancing across the strings of a guitar.

Samuel.

He was old now, more worn. But his voice was the same, old too but still rich and raw and full of everything he had survived. He sang of loss and love and the weight of the past, and the room listened in reverent silence.

She felt Remmick tense beside her. She looked up at him, searching his face. But there was no hunger in his eyes. No desperation. Just... recognition, and something that might have been peace.

Samuel finished the song, his fingers lingering on the strings as the last note faded into the silence. The crowd erupted in applause, and he blinked, as if startled by the sound, as if he had forgotten where he was, and then he looked up.

His eyes found them immediately. He went still. Completely, utterly still. His face drained of color, and for a moment, she thought he might bolt. His hands gripped the guitar so hard his knuckles went white.

He stared at Remmick, and she could see the terror flash across his face—the memories of that night, the blood, the hunger, the endless chase, he had never stopped being afraid. Then his gaze shifted to her.

His eyes widened, he remembered her, his friend, the woman who had been kind to him, who had listened to his music and smiled at him like he was just a boy with a song. He had thought she was dead, he had mourned her.

And now she stood beside the monster who had haunted his nightmares, and she was... smiling.

She raised her hand and waved, a small and gentle wave, her fingers curling in the air. Her smile was warm, genuine, full of the same kindness he remembered. But she looked just the same as that night.

Samuel didn't move. He was frozen, caught between fear and confusion and something that might have been hope.

Remmick looked at him. Really looked at him. And then he did something that surprised even himself.

He smiled.

It was a small smile, a quiet acknowledgement, but it was real. There was no malice in it, no hunger, no obsession. Just the gentle acceptance of a man who had finally found what he had been looking for. And then Remmick nodded. Once. A slow, deliberate nod that said everything words couldn't.

I'm not here for you. I'm not hunting you. I'm not chasing you. I have everything I need.

He turned to her, his hand finding hers, and together they walked out of the bar. The night air hit them again, cool and sweet. The music followed them for a few steps, Samuel's voice starting up again, softer now, more hesitant. Then it faded into the distance.

She looked up at Remmick, her eyes shining.

"Didn't you want him?," she asked.

He shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I didn't. I never did."

She squeezed his hand, and they walked off into the night, the village lights fading behind them.

Samuel watched them go from the doorway of the bar, his guitar hanging loosely from his hand. He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. But somewhere deep in his chest, the weight that had been pressing on him for years—the weight of fear, of running, of never being safe—began to lift.

He didn't know why. He didn't know how. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, the nightmare was finally over.

He turned back to the bar, to the warmth and the light, and he played again. His voice was stronger this time. His fingers surer.

And somewhere in the distance, walking hand in hand through the moonlit forest, Remmick and Y/n smiled.

— FIN —

[dannyelfmanstattos]

every time i think about the cast to Sinners or Sinners in general I genuinely feel like this

[inthemoodforblastt]

I don’t know why Sinners didn’t win the Oscar (well, actually I do; because the Academy is basically a bunch of crusty old wankers, but whatever) and instead they gave it to that cringey mess One Battle After Another, which made me feel weird as fuck the entire time. With Sinners I actually cried, man. I’m in such a bad mood right now.