welcome to a sweet respite from the city's woes. take a valberry.
main: @rcverberated
— . ° .• ° 🍓: ☆. LIXIE ･::･ she/they ･::･ 20+
˗ˏˋ ✧ genshin ☽ love and deepspace
➼ diluc, kaeya, zayne, sylus
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to invoke perjury (and to love no one else) — sunday
summary. an old telltale whisper of a confession leaves sunday defenceless, and all the more paranoid of your loyalty to him.
notes. omg this is so epic i say as i hold up this work that nobody asked for. i finally finished the penacony tb quest everybody clap it up for me. my sunday obsession is so so bad somebody save me from the trenches.
warnings. mdni. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is (unsurprisingly) very controlling, sunday is also tremendously paranoid of everything, yandere themes, he makes you cry, sunday uses that weird lying curse on you, but worry not he does love you. i think. let me know if ive missed anything!
“You are breaking my heart.”
You glanced up from the model of the city, growing tired of picking at the corner of one of the buildings. A nervous habit, if you will. When Sunday noticed the damage later, he’d scold you for it.
For now, his eyes were elsewhere. He, too, was staring down at the miniature pinball machine, spinning it with a gloved finger.
You fidgeted, uncertain. “What?”
“You’re lying to me,” Sunday accused. His tone was soft.
Your hands pressed to the sides of the table. “I haven’t lied to you.”
“Not recently, no,” he agreed. He agreed, and you almost sprang from your seat. “But you have. And you still are.”
To that, you gripped the edge of the table tighter. Uncertainty wrought heavy in your bones like lead.
It suddenly felt cold. As if he’d slid ice along your spine. A chill wracked through you. You realised the feeling was his gaze.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off you.
But he was still slowly twisting the pinball machine around and around. He then sighed.
And then he leaned back and traced a finger along the edge of the table, not at all mindful of the small animated figurines occupying the city.
He gave one of their heads a small push, and the small figure’s body sank into the floor.
You took it as a warning.
“Do you remember the night we met?”
Of course you did.
It was a swirl of colour and muted hushed whispers now, but you could recall taking his hand, promising him the world, and kissing along his fingers to the swell of his wrist.
You nodded meekly.
Sunday hummed, clearly lost in thought. “I never forgot what you said to me.” Oh, you knew that look. That distant, faraway look. Like he’s trapping himself in his own head again. He was good at that. Acting, pretending. Putting on a show. “I’d never felt the same again.”
He was still tracing the edge of the table.
There was a small grin on his face.
Such a pleasant expression, paired with that a gorgeous light-hearted tone. His voice sounded like a lullaby echoing in the back of your mind.
His halo was glowing in the light.
“You said to me you’d be my everything. You offered a piece of your very own soul to me.” He gloved finger flitted from the polished wood, and then stopped short of your hand resting on the table. “You have such a lovely heart.”
The muscle raced in your chest.
You weren’t sure if it was out of flattery or fear. You weren’t able to tell the difference anymore.
“Such a shame you continue to spit poison at me. I used to love talking to you.” His gloved finger followed the curvature of your knuckles. “You’ve changed. You’re so different from when I met you.”
Your hands curled into fists as he traced the bone-white colour as you squeezed. Your nails dug into your palms.
He’d changed, too. He’s different too. He’s more watchful now. He barely makes time for himself anymore. He’s always either working or watching you like a hawk.
It’s unnerving. The unsettling brush of his lashes against your skin, and that unbreaking stare.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all you said. “I haven’t changed at all.”
Sunday hummed. “Are you sure?”
“Very.” You found the courage to glance up at him. That same unbreaking stare. When you met his gaze, he smiled. “I still care about you.”
“But, you don’t.” There was a light hearted ring in his voice.
You stopped. “What?”
“You don’t love me anymore.”
And there it was.
He was paranoid. He always had been, since the day you shedded a glove from his hand to kiss the skin wrapped around bone white knuckles. He’d been so busy pressing his nails into his palm, so preoccupied in what you were doing, why you were doing this, what you gained from it.
He’s paranoid now. He’s never stopped. He’s always been anxious. He’s always been overthinking your every move like you’re an opponent in a game of chess; always on his toes, always watching, either with his own eyes that more often than not, glared daggers into you, or through the nightingales that swarmed the mansion.
You were shaking. You tried to stop yourself.
He noticed. “You’re upset.”
“Of course, I’m upset.” Your nails dug into the underside of the table. You felt them strain as your jaw clenched.
“Is it wrong to think you’re dishonest?”
“Yes,” you answered. “Yes, it’s wrong. You’re wrong.”
“Perhaps I am, then, for falling in love with a liar.” His fingers chased up your arm slowly. “I always valued honesty above all. How rich.”
“But I’m–” You didn’t even know how to defend yourself.
Instead, you fell completely silent, face burning in humiliation.
The scent of him was intoxicating. Orange blossoms and sandalwood. You had memorised the scents of his favourite fragrances, the shampoo he used, down to his toothpaste. You knew all of it. The way he brushed his hair, the temperature of the water he preferred for his baths, to the chronological order of steps on how he got ready in the morning.
It was all order; a set of stagnant unchanging steps. Like he was following a recipe to its very word.
He was particular.
And he hated change.
He took your silence as an invitation to pry further. “You were so enchanting that night.” He was telling the truth. You could read it on his expression–and his expression. That same expression he held on that night you offered him your heart to take. “And I know now, that you are most enchanting when you lie.”
“What’s–” You interlocked your fingers. His own were tracing the bone of your shoulder now. “What have I done? Why’re you–”
“You, of all people, must understand my uncertainty,” he spoke. He sounded as if you were supposed to know the answer.
Maybe there was no answer at all. No spark to his flame. He’s just doing all of this, because he can. Because he’s paranoid, and he’s hiding his churning stomach and the anxiety that fills his throat with this stage play he’s put on.
“You willingly took in a perfect home, much different from where you came from.” He gestured to the room around him. Pillars that intricately curled into the ceiling, floor polished, the scaled model of Penacony tended to and dusted, and the walls featuring thousands of commissioned pieces from artists all over the galaxy. “No sorrows, no disorder, no dishonesty. Certainly not here.
His eyes shift to you again. “And certainly not now.”
You shrank down into your seat.
“And, under the light of the Harmony–” He raises his hands to gesture to the ceiling, as if THEY’RE watching over him. “–All wickedness is revealed. That is precisely why you're so radiant in the sunlight.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
He must have noticed your expression. You must have appeared distressed. Fidgeting nervously, your blood running cold beneath your skin.
Perhaps your apprehension, the clear anxiousness drawn over your face, egged him further.
He did not dwell on it. Instead, he simply narrowed his eyes. “It is as I suspected.” When your eyebrows raised in surprise, he continued, “you’ve been lying.”
“You don’t trust me anymore?” You frantically wiped a stray tear that had fallen. You hoped he didn’t notice the waver in your tone.
You stared at the floor. His eyes were burning into your skull.
Your brows knitted together.
A bell tolled nearby.
You don’t recall any sort of church close by.
“I cannot excuse, nor house, nor bed, a liar. It is beyond THEIR natural order. Liars have no place in an assimilated, perfect world.”
You looked elsewhere. You picked nervously at the hem of your shirt, suddenly feeling like you were drowning in hot water.
Your nose filled and clogged with a horrible earthy scent much unlike his shampoo. This was different, real and raw, like there was somebody else in the room.
When you looked around, there was nobody else.
Just the two of you.
“Stand up,” he ordered softly.
You did so, hesitantly, still shaking.
You must have looked pathetic.
Sunday offered you his hand.
Desperate, you took it, and kissed his knuckles.
He let out a faint laugh. “That will not work. Not this time, I’m afraid.” He looked up towards the ceiling for a brief moment, before he closed his eyes. “O Triple-Faced Soul, let fire brand flesh and bone with the mark of honesty–”
Something was wrong, and his face was changing.
For a moment, you saw tracks like golden water flow down his cheeks.
His halo was glowing, but there was something else behind his head. A clouded and muted swirl of colours, mismatched and ever changing.
You tried to pull your hand from his grip, but there was a weight pressed to your limbs.
“–And ensure that every vow is etched in the fervour of undeniable truth.”
“What’re you–” He let go of your hand and you stumbled. The bell toll was only just louder by a margin, and there was now a searing heat in your head. “What’re you doing?!”
Your hands desperately rested on his shoulders, trying to keep yourself upright.
You tried again to wrench yourself from his touch. It was sickening how gentle he was being.
Slowly, he guided you back to the love seat, tutting and scolding you as you fought in his hold. How could somebody so horrible be so gentle?
You felt the urge to throw up all over his clothes. Sweat beaded down your neck and pooled at your collarbone like a necklace.
“What did you do to me?” You were panicking. “What have you done?” You pressed the pads of your fingers to your temples to try and soothe the burning. “You cursed me?”
“I’ve blessed you,” he whispered. “This way, you will be rectified.”
Something was whispering to you. Almost inaudible, indiscernible, like the banging of a death knell in your ears.
What is it? What is that?
You looked to him for an answer, but words caught heavy on your tongue like lead.
“All you have to do is tell the truth.”
You shook your head. “I’m not speaking to you like this,” you tried. Your voice came out strained.
“You don’t have a choice,” he snapped. “You are not in control.”
“You’ll hurt me for the sake of your precious pride?” Your hands coiled into fists at your sides. Thank the Lords he’d seated you, for you were sure you would’ve fallen over by now. Your feet had since gone numb.
The whispering was right in your ear. When you turned your head to confront the noise, there was nothing there.
“It will not hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday explained gently. “I hope that doesn’t come as a challenge to you.”
Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head–
“I’m not answering anything you ask,” you forced out through gritted teeth.
Sunday only let out a breathy, exasperated sigh. “Then don’t. We’ll see what happens to you.”
You said nothing.
Instead, you tried to stand up to leave. Screw this curse he’s put on your head because he’s retreated into his own insecurities. He wasn’t winning this time.
You were so sick of this paranoia.
When you stood, a dizziness hit you like a wave. You desperately reached for anything, and your hands found his. He did not guide you back down into the seat, but his gloved hands remained encased in yours.
Such a perfect, warm fit.
Sunday offered you a gentle, yet peculiar smile.
“Question: have you ever lied to me?”
You didn’t answer.
Your flesh felt as though it was set alight. As if the halovian had personally poured gasoline over you and held a match to the tip of your nose and watched you burn alive.
The whispering was loud. The voices was indiscernible. You couldn’t place a finger to its source, nor a face, nor a name. Three voices, all repeating the same thing. You could tell from its tone, its pitch modulation, and yet you couldn’t understand what was being spoken.
It didn’t sound like any language you knew.
“Answer the question, angel.”
Hot tears bubbled over your lashes.
“Yes.” You fought to keep the word lodged in the back of your throat, but when you forced it out, the lava on your tongue cooled significantly. The whispers grew softer.
He noticed the look of relief cross over your face. “See?” A gloved hand came down to gently touch the crown of your head. “Just answer truthfully, and it will all be okay.”
Then, the white material of his gloves came forward to swipe gently at the tears below your eyes. Salt soaked the soft cotton.
Your hand reached up shakily to hold onto his wrist.
“Did you lie to me the night we met?”
The swirls of colour around his halo were returning.
Your thumb traced the ring on his finger. Gold, with a blue gem on its interior.
Instead of answering, you tried to press your lips to his.
Sunday stopped you, though it took restraint. He held your face still, lips just barely brushing against your own. He tasted salt. Salt and sweet lies, and Aeons above was it addicting.
He sighed. “Don’t tempt me.” He watched you flinch, and rang a simple reminder, “answer.”
“Yes,” you said.
As he expected.
You were so beautiful like this. Raw, and honest.
His heart squeezed with disgust. “Did you lie when you said you loved me?”
Frantically, you shook your head. “No.”
He smiled.
“Did you lie when you said you’d die for me?” He tilted his head.
Your lips pressed together. Your fingers curled tight in the loose curls of his hair. Your nails brushed softly against his feathers.
Your chest heaved when he finally sat beside you on the couch. His skin was so warm pressed against yours, and the contact made you feel dizzy.
“Yes,” you responded.
He accepted it. His finger softly petted your cheek.
Oh, you were crying.
You felt so pathetic and weak, and bubbled words caught in your throat like fish on a hook. You felt trapped, and the colours behind his head were growing more vibrant, brighter, accompanying and drowning out that awful halo.
He’s horrible. He’s so horrible.
You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you needed him to leave. You needed him gone.
He beat you to it. “Do you hate me?”
You heaved a sob. “No.” And you didn’t. You didn’t hate him, despite his obsessive control and unjustified possessiveness. His hubris, and his inability to see past his own paranoia and fear. “Please stop.”
You pressed your lips to the small, poniard-shaped jewel on his chest.
Your sign of devotion did not deter him, though, he was sure you would always have some sort of effect on him.
“It shouldn’t hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday reminded you. There was a teasing lilt to his voice.
“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, this time as firmly as you could—albeit your voice shook with fervour. “I never hated you.”
“I’m relieved.” His hand petted your hair. “So, so relieved.”
You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed.
You prayed it was over. You prayed and prayed for the voices to dissipate from your mind. You tried to will them away, to squeeze your eyes shut and beg for the whispers to fade into the background of white noise and static.
The kaleidoscope of colours crept below your eyelids.
Sunday held you securely, and as warm as he was, and as firm and yet so gently his arms sat snugly against you, you felt so cold. So cold and alone and so afraid.
He could fix that.
He hadn’t said a word for a moment.
The burning feeling of your skin returned, and you let out another drawn out noise of distress.
He shushed you. “One final question.”
You shook your head.
Your hands were trembling, fingers weakly pressing to your temples to rid the pounding that made your stomach churn. Your vision was swamped in swirls and patterns of colours you couldn’t put a name to.
His face, too, warped into something evil.
This wasn’t the man whose knuckles you’d kissed, whose wings gently fluttered against your skin, who’d plucked a small feather from them and handed it to you as a symbol of his devotion.
His halo dimmed for a moment.
You felt his lips brush against your ear and the tickle of a feather.
love and deepspace is so funny in a ton of ways, not the least of which being that it’s an angst game full of angst with a huge helping of angst on top masquerading as a romance game
and this angst romance game has wacky characters like:
🐠 merman sea god who is an artist with flame powers for some reason. his symbol is not a fish but a duck. there is a section of the story where he goes into heat. canonical billionaire. also a serial revenge killer.
❄️ accomplished heart surgeon with ice powers who is trapped in a cycle of multiverse-spanning reincarnations. mc’s childhood friend and also her doctor. blatantly the horniest of the lot but you wouldn’t know it because he has never shown anyone an emotion ever.
💫 centuries old immortal space prince. literally an alien. got stuck in the past after attempting wormhole travel and has been bopping around earth until mc is born. mc’s monster-fighting coworker and upstairs neighbor. secretly batman.
🐦⬛ dangerous crime boss. also an alien, probably. also a dragon whose soul is bound to mc’s. once made mc shoot him in the heart to prove his immortality. wife guy in a “he supports women’s wrongs” way.
🍎 cyborg military commander with gravity powers. flies space planes. was killed in an explosion but got better. a narrative representation of the biblical eve. diagnosed mentally/emotionally unwell. wife guy in a “he is the wife” way.
and. like. originally i was going to say only a sentence about each of them but i could not pick just one of the many, many unhinged things about the tiny men who live in my phone.
absolutely batshit insane game. hilarious.
i have cried probably a dozen times while playing it.
Okay, so I'm kinda new to interneting with other people, but I need help finding a place to write that doesn't help train A.I. I've heard about Obsidian, and it's where I'm currently migrated after Google Docs, but I'm not happy with its format to actually write, like with indents and stuff. Does anybody have suggestions (as free as you can think of, I'm poor as shit, but any and all suggestions are welcome)
love and deepspace is so funny in a ton of ways, not the least of which being that it’s an angst game full of angst with a huge helping of angst on top masquerading as a romance game
and this angst romance game has wacky characters like:
🐠 merman sea god who is an artist with flame powers for some reason. his symbol is not a fish but a duck. there is a section of the story where he goes into heat. canonical billionaire. also a serial revenge killer.
❄️ accomplished heart surgeon with ice powers who is trapped in a cycle of multiverse-spanning reincarnations. mc’s childhood friend and also her doctor. blatantly the horniest of the lot but you wouldn’t know it because he has never shown anyone an emotion ever.
💫 centuries old immortal space prince. literally an alien. got stuck in the past after attempting wormhole travel and has been bopping around earth until mc is born. mc’s monster-fighting coworker and upstairs neighbor. secretly batman.
🐦⬛ dangerous crime boss. also an alien, probably. also a dragon whose soul is bound to mc’s. once made mc shoot him in the heart to prove his immortality. wife guy in a “he supports women’s wrongs” way.
🍎 cyborg military commander with gravity powers. flies space planes. was killed in an explosion but got better. a narrative representation of the biblical eve. diagnosed mentally/emotionally unwell. wife guy in a “he is the wife” way.
and. like. originally i was going to say only a sentence about each of them but i could not pick just one of the many, many unhinged things about the tiny men who live in my phone.
absolutely batshit insane game. hilarious.
i have cried probably a dozen times while playing it.
imagining waiting at home for diluc and you wrap yourself around his coat. you're craving his touch and warmth and all you can do is bask in his scent, his side of the bed, his pillows.
when he comes home he sees you sprawled over on the bed in his coat and your pajamas. he finds it so incredibly endearing. he also takes the quickest shower known to man so he can smell fresh and cuddle with you until the morning comes.
i miss diluc so much i imagine coming home at night but he's in the tavern so you wrap yourself around his pillow and wear his coat and ugh. he comes home to spoon you. i need him so badly
