Welcome! I'm Rairie (Xe/Xir/Xem)!
Info and links below or on the pinned post for Mobile users! Thanks so much for visiting my blog, have a wonderful day!
Currently writing and drawing most about: Mairuma and Ichi the Witch!
Heya, I'm Rairie, also known as Void (Xe/Xir/Xem) and this is my Pinned post!
I write fanfiction and draw some art, and this is my sideblog for it. My main blog is @colourful-void!
I love Mairuma, Ichi the Witch, HXH, Deltarune, ZE/AITSF, Maimaimaigoen, as well as a variety of RPGMaker Horror Games and other anime. I mainly post Ichi the Witch at the moment, but some other things as well!
You can also find me on BlueSky (@/ColourfulVoid) and Ao3 (@/ColourfulVoid). For more info on me, visit the FAQ! If you have any other questions, requests, want to ask me about something, please send me a message via the ask box, or dms! I'll do my best to reply.
Hello! Apologies if you’ve answered this question prior, or if this inquiry is impudent, but do you think you’ll ever offer the Franmaya hand sticker as an art print? I’d love a larger scale of it to frame and admire
Hello Anon!!!!
Okay first of all: THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!
In all honesty I haven't thought about Redbubble in an AGE. I forgot I set that up when I was younger, and like. it's not like I get a profit from it. Actually, my settings were fucked and I only found out by going to look at it from getting this ask! a whole 5 dollars will be mine soon and that's lovely. Wouldn't have known if not for you, so a big thank you.
Anyway: I hadn't been thinking about it, but I am very happy to set that up for you! Idk if they're any good quality wise but just for you anon I've set it up so you can get a postcard (i find postcards make good prints) and a poster, cuz those are the options redbubble got. I've set it to no markup for you as well so it's as affordable as it can be! should just be on the page now, but if it's not showing send another message and Ill toss up a link.
I'm really glad you enjoy that art. Even if I don't think it holds up anymore, the fact that ppl are still enjoying it is wonderful. If you ever do decide to grab that postcard or such please let me know! (mostly bcs i'd like to not have a redbubble anymore, but i'm not in a rush)
Rated: T
Ichi the Witch
Desscaras & Ichi
Words: 2.3k~
Warnings: Standard Ichi Childhood and Contract Melancholy, spoilers up through 88.
[Ao3 Link!]
Summary:
Ichi finding Desscaras in the Associations garden is not a one time occurrence. Neither is what he chooses to do about it.
This one was beta-ed by the excellent @reviiely, thank you viie!!
—
Once, in the inner garden, is one thing. A coincidence. Extenuating circumstances. Whatever nonsense Ichi gets himself up to is only a concern of Desscaras' so far as avoiding getting either of them killed, or her yelled at by Moneygold. If the puppy went wandering around the Association all day in search of her, what did it matter to Desscaras? It had been strange, but Ichi was always strange; particularly so in those recent days after returning from the Pendulum Seas.
But it happens again.
The lingering taste of vomit stung in the back of Desscaras' throat. Behind her eyes, phantom memories clung to her eyelids. The bile had been true, Fujimine's infiltration of her childhood had not. Yet, she had gleefully yanked those memories up from the dark depths of sea Desscaras had just watched them sink into. Though it had never been real, tearing Fujimine out from the nostalgia left a gaping hole. A raw wound, torn edges serving only to highlight just how lonely those memories were.
It's annoying. Just annoying. Desscaras had been through worse, would be again, willingly so! So it doesn't bother her, not really anyway. Yet still...
That night, Desscaras's head lolls idly into her palm, elbows resting on the table of their team room. Her gaze drifts off towards Hoshigami's portrait on the wall.
And with no warning, no fanfare, Ichi had wandered into the room. He picked up a chair and brought it up next to her, settling himself down and promptly leaning against her side. Without any explanation, just… sitting there. He doesn't even try to justify it. Wordlessly, as if there was nothing to remark on, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to use Desscaras as a pillow.
She'd protested, naturally, but it had fallen on deaf ears. Just as quickly as beneath the tree, he'd settled to sleep.
(For once, Desscaras is grateful Ichi is such an early riser, because if the rest of the team had seen the both of them asleep in such stupid positions against the table, she'd never live it down.)
But it doesn't end there! He does it again. And again. And again— these quiet moments of melancholy Desscaras had grown used to hiding, intruded upon by Ichi’s silent companionship. Once or twice she does disappear entirely; slips through a mirror not to return until she's certain any hint of wayward bitter feelings had been thoroughly crushed. Even then, she always returns to find Ichi waiting, sitting by the mirror. He's so casual about it too, a shrug and a simple "I was waiting", like he really was some kind of dog. Once Togeice confided to her that she'd caught him waiting for hours, Desscaras gave up on trying to flee.
Still, the behaviour itself is an enigma. She questions it, sure, but she doesn't find it in her to really dig into it, let alone get an answer until about half a year later.
--
It was the night before the anniversary. November brought with it cooler air, the promise of winter's gentle chill to come. A patchwork of clouds made up the sky the rainy season an inevitability as much as a promise. As always, Desscaras had made herself scarce.
Honestly, the anniversary itself wasn’t so bad. There was a grave to visit and vengeance to loudly declare, and Togeice, for her part, always came around with something halfway decent to drink. There was enough to chew on to keep the memories at bay, or at least confined to picture frames.
The night before is harder. The anticipation; the static in the air before lightning strikes. Tomorrow will not be so bad, Desscaras knows this. But the lingering feeling of soon settled into her skin like tar.
Ichi finds her on the roof of one of the Association's taller spires, leaning back against where the shingles grow too steep to stand on. It's a bit of a climb to reach; there's certainly no path leading witches up there, but that's never bothered either of them.
Ichi doesn’t ask anything. Doesn’t explain anything. Just sort of slides down, head laying in her lap, face tilted out towards the city.
Desscaras sighs. By now, she knows protesting will garner her no worthwhile reward.
For all her complaints, she’s never once managed to bring herself to actually pushing him off her. Not at times like these, anyway.
In the place of her typical half-hearted arguments, all Desscaras asks is:
“Why do you keep doing this?”
Ichi shifts from where he’s laying. Head turned out towards the distant lights of Natali, soft and amber as the night wears on. When Desscaras squints she watches each little lamp, all blurring into streaks like stars.
He doesn’t look at her.
“You want me to stop?” he asks.
“I didn’t say that.”
Carefully, Desscaras raises a hand to Ichi’s head. She hadn’t bothered with the gloves this evening, so she meets Ichi’s brittle hair with her bare palm.
She’d say she pet him no differently than one would a dog. That's what it felt like, anyway. Nothing more than that. But her motions betray a distinctly human fondness she can’t help but give him. When had this become a habit of theirs?
“Why?” Desscaras repeats, continuing with gentle strokes. It calms the buzzing beneath her fingertips, turns them from weightless to solid.
Ichi sighs, and she can feel the weight of his body pushing against her legs.
“I don’t know how else to do it,” he mumbles.
Desscaras pauses for a moment, fingers absentmindedly working through a stubborn knot.
“Do what?”
With his body so close, Desscaras can feel the push of inhale, the pull of exhale, before Ichi speaks again.
“That. This. All of it.”
Desscaras resumes working her way through Ichi’s hair, not bothering to reply to Ichi’s non-answer. She waits, holding the moment of silence between her teeth just hoping that—
“I— I don’t know how to help.”
His uncharacteristic stutter fades off into the late-night breeze.
"Help?" Her fingers freeze, tangled in his hair.
Ichi nods, pulling Desscaras' hands away from his head.
"When you get all… hiding. Like an injured bird or something."
"B- Hiding!? I'm not hiding!"
Ichi shrugs.
"Well, you disappear."
"No, I don't!"
It's unsettling, Desscaras realizes as she retorts on instinct. She's used to being observed, it's the territory that comes with being the world's greatest witch. She's not used to those observations inciting concern.
"What, you've been searching me out just because I spend some time alone now and then? I get that you must be sooo lonely without me, but before you came along, I was just fine without a team. You were a solo hunter before too, right? You get it."
"I was," Ichi replies, "so I know what it's like to be alone."
He leaves it at that, a taut threat pulled between them.
"You haven't told me to leave," Ichi adds, though his voice has grown quieter, "So I kept doing it."
Something feels itchy on the inside of Desscaras' skin, hearing Ichi's voice like that.
"But why?" she repeats. Why me? Why bother? What are you trying to do? The rest remains on loop inside her mind, lips sealed waiting for Ichi's reply.
"Dunno. I just wanna."
He brings his hands together, then stretches them outwards. Straining towards the sky, grasping at nothing that can be seen.
"Maybe it's like the stake thing."
"Stake?" Desscaras asks.
"No," Ichi says bluntly, "it's just like a stake? Gokuraku said—"
"Pff, okay," Desscaras interjects, slicing through Ichi's sentence. "Listen, I don't know what Gokuraku told you, but you don't need to come tracking me down, alright?"
The next words come out easily; she has said this hundreds of times, always the same way. Of anyone out there, she should rely on Ichi least of all. She has a responsibility to him, not the other way around. Cut and dry, mentor and pupil. The one who receives support and the one who gives it. "I don't need help."
She has to stick to those lines, the rigid walls that protect them both, even if they are thin and flimsy, and she has already bent them out of shape.
This is a truth understood by Desscaras, the Association, and perhaps even the earth itself. Peerless, perfect Desscaras needs no backup. It is a known thing. Yet— is a known thing always a true thing? She had still fallen, in the fresh morning after the storm, and plummeted towards the sea. Did she still need no one then? Desscaras tries not to think about it.
"But…" The even tone wavers, unsteady on his lips. "Gokuraku said—"
"Who cares what Gokuraku said?"
"I do!" Ichi bites back, and Desscaras recoils slightly at the smoke curling off his words. "I asked him what family was like, and he said it was like a stake or something. I— I…"
Fingers trembling slightly, Desscaras places a hand on Ichi's shoulder. He flinches for only a fraction of a second, then relaxes under the touch. All the vigilance born of a decade of solitude, an instinct that runs so deep within him it would defy all reason and all magic, and Desscaras can ease it with the mere weight of a couple months. It terrifies her.
"It just feels right. I know… I can't do it the way I'm supposed to. I don't know how."
Looking down into her lap, Ichi stays awfully still. Desscaras holds her expression as her blood begins to run cold.
It’s so quiet, the words he tucks into the collar of his shirt, Desscaras almost misses them.
“Sorry.”
For one split second, with that tiny apology, Desscaras is overwhelmed by the knowledge that Ichi truly was just some kid. A very strange kid, and a skilled kid, and a scary kid. But a kid.
"You know… it's not supposed to be like us at all."
A Mentor-Pupil Blood Contract is not an adoption, or any other kind of familial contract. Family, the words she'd approached him with, the word he values so much, was an invention of hers. Of theirs, now. If she repeats it enough times, then maybe they'll both start to believe it. Maybe that'll be enough to protect him, maybe that will be enough to save them, and maybe it won't, but at least he won't die alone, and she won't have to bear losing another.
They're nothing that can be sorted. Desscaras knows she is not Ichi's sister, nor mother, nor aunt nor cousin nor child. Ichi, in turn, is not her brother, nor son, nor nephew nor cousin nor father. But they are family. The one thing they can always agree on, the one thing they can share. It's funny, a term so broad. A label, yet vague. But the one he'd wanted to take. The one she'd wanted to offer. That's what makes it so.
"That's fine," Ichi says, "I wouldn't want someone else anyway."
Smug satisfaction wells up in Desscaras, striking through her center and lingering at the edges of the contract burn.
"It's just, this is the only way I know how to be," Ichi finishes.
"Then what do you care about what you're supposed to do, huh?" Desscaras replies. "Since when have you worried about a stupid thing like that?"
"I dunno. I just… wanted it to be even. It should be fair, right?"
Desscaras’ gaze flickers up above them. The marbled cloud layer above them shifts slowly across the sky, the dim reflection of Natali's light glowing softly back down to them. She stares out to a speck. To the bright shining light of Polaris, there in the distance, guiding the way, even as she cannot see it. She'd know it was there, always.
“I think 'even' is impossible for us.”
Ichi brings his hands together, running his left thumb over the back of his right.
"Then you want me to stop?"
Desscaras looks down at the kid in her lap. His shoulders are still bony, digging into her thighs. Around the traces of his jawline, reserves of fat newly developed are beginning to frame his face. He'd looked older when they first met, but since arriving at the Association and taking in a more varied diet, he'd begun to soften out. With each passing day, Desscaras finds he looks more and more his age.The man who had wandered out of the bushes, knife in hand, is long since a stranger.
She cannot be what he had needed, then and long before. Though the harsh bone dissipates into skin that improves in pallor by the day, the scars winding around every inch of him cannot be undone so easily. Nothing will tear death for death from Ichi's nerves, nothing will tear the knife from his grasp.
Whether she can ever be what he needs now is doubtful. A contract as much as a curse, a suicide note as much as a promise. But Desscaras can't imagine herself doing anything else. She hasn't come this far by doubt. Sheer, blinding arrogance has lit the way for her time and time again. If she believes it, and he does too, then surely the way ahead will materialize beneath their feet. Otherwise, Desscaras will rip up the earth beneath her feet, and create something new from that.
It's the only way she knows how to be.
"Eh. Do whatever you like."
Desscaras looks down at Ichi, ever her opposite, ever her annoyance and ever her burden. They do not suit each other; they are not fit for one another, and by all counts they make a miserable little family. Eternally stuck in habits carved into them from long ago. But by Hoshigami, he needs someone, and if that someone is Desscaras? Well. There are probably worse options.
"I will," Ichi replies, and he does not move a centimetre.
He curls up tighter, bringing his knees up to his chest, pushing harder against her legs. Desscaras drapes an arm over his side, and though she knows her back will complain about the position tomorrow, it's comfortable tonight.
Tonight, the stars over Natali twinkle brightly, through the gaps in the clouds where they can be seen.
hiii I hope you’re doing well! I wanted to ask if it would be okay for me to make a fan edit using your 2025 kriselle cosplay photos. I’ll make sure to credit you properly ofc. I absolutely love your cosplay so I wanted to ask for your permission first. thank you so much!
Hello!! Hi, thank you so much for asking!!
I am VERY much alright with it, but I'm just checking in with my friend now, the one who was cosplaying Noelle, if it's alright with her!
She says: Absolutely go ahead!!
So YES!!! You're totally allowed, please do!! If possible, please send a link my way once you're done so me and her can see, I'd love to see!!
Thank you so much I'm honoured <3!! I'm so glad you liked them!!
Rated: Not Rated
Ichi the Witch
Desscaras & Ichi
Words: 700~
Warnings: Gore, Angst, End of World, Bad End, etc
[Ao3 Link!]
Summary: If Ichi failed to stop to world hater, but lived anyway.
For Ichi and Desscaras Family Week Day 4!
This one was beta-ed by the excellent @reviiely, thank you viie!!
---
The smoke curls off the ground, the trees, the very air around them. As if nothing before had existed, and nothing would again. Only smoke, only ash, as warp and ruin twisted up and around.
Bones jutting out from the chalk-texture earth, dead coral spiking up towards the grey sky. An endless sea tessellating, and nothing in all directions save that in the immediate vicinity. All eternal, all unending.
It's within this wreckage, uniform torn to shreds, stained so heavily by the ash he's invisible to anything that could've observed the scene: Ichi lays. Only by the slowly trickling pool of blood is he marked as something human, something alive, once. Only by the faintest, shallowest twitch of his chest, is there proof he lives now.
Within that shallow grave, where soot and blood mix into mud, where monochrome encompasses the skyline, Desscaras lays beside him. Equally in tatters, the pool of burgundy beneath them is a shared thing. It's funny, back then, when she'd signed her name, gotten him to do the same, it had been the one thing they couldn't claim.
A family in name, in paper and flame and contract, but comprised of two alone, no relatives to share.
Now, as it drips, drips, drips together, congeals in the temperature-less atmosphere, there is no one to claim they don't share blood as well.
Desscaras rises first. She's always had more stamina, more magic, more experience, more. And she'd sworn it then, and again when the inevitable end had been upon them. To be a decent adult. To fulfil that promise. To be something, for someone. She wouldn't leave him to this alone. While the burden couldn't be taken, at least, she would be there.
A death is a death, no matter what kind. It would be inevitable anyway.
So she rises, as she promised she would, despite the aching protest of every molecule in her body, and she turns to Ichi. Eyes gritted shut under the nothingness— not light, not dark, just nothing. Warp. Ruin. All is nil.
She has no mana. No healing spells, nothing to dull the pain, to repair the damage. But Desscaras has run on empty for decades, and she will not stop now.
Not even the end of the world will stop her.
Shaky, unsteady, she kneels at Ichi's side. Watches the dust particles flicking through the air, dislodged by his slightest spasms.
It's not that it's easy. It's that there's nothing else she could think to do.
Desscaras leans down, wrapping her arms around Ichi. One head behind his back, one behind his head. The debris slips into the long, deep slashes in her arm, and she doesn't flinch.
Bracing one knee against the warp, Desscaras raises to stand, balancing on a broken heel sinking into the ground beneath her.
As far as the eye can see, there is nothing but destruction. They had promised that day, hovering above Hoitaka as the pines swayed not from the wind but by the sheer magical energy crackling through the air. True to the World Hater's words, all Desscaras could see was twisted into unliving abomination.
But Desscaras stands, Ichi in her arms, and begins to walk. Through the endless sea of bones, through the eternal graveyard.
Though her voice is shot, tongue slipping through the cracks in broken teeth, and a steady stream of blood trickles down her chin from her torn lips, she whispers;
"Come on. Let's go home."
There is no breeze to ruffle his dark, matted hair. No light catches on the edge of his eyelids. But with the weight of the world having fallen from his shoulders, Ichi gathers the strength to nod into Desscaras' chest.
"Home," he echoes, buried in what remained of her gorget.
It is not a place that exists anymore. There is no location for them to return to. The only remnants of "home", are a piece of paper that's turned to ash, a vow that's committed to memory, and a burn mark permanently etched on both of their chests.
Desscaras tightens her grip.
They leave a trail of blood stains like rose petals. Departing not as heroes, nor messiah, nor saviour; just one tattered little family, step by step into the endless ending.
Blood won’t travel through those veins, but love will.
Itssss Ichi and Dess Week day 3! Aandddd in universe according to my timeline math: today, June 10th, is the day they sign the contract!! So I did this lil animatic for it, hope you enjoy.
Rated: G
Ichi the Witch
Desscaras & Ichi
Words: 2.5k
Warnings: Some minor references to Ichi's backstory
[Ao3 Link!]
Summary: Ichi and Desscaras on hairbrushing, gifts, and the things we don't talk about.
For Ichi and Desscaras Family Week Day 2!
--
“Ichi, stop!”
All things considered it probably wasn't Desscaras's best idea to start yelling in Ichi’s direction, but the second she poked her head into his room and laid eyes on him bringing his knife up towards his face, instinct set in.
Really, he was such a puppy sometimes. What, was she going to have to tell him to 'drop it!' next?
Ichi, for his part, seemed undisturbed by Desscaras’s outburst. Obeying the command, either by contract or the rare motivation to actually listen to her, he remains still where he sits cross-legged.
He doesn’t move the knife from where he’s frozen. The blade sits flat against his nose, the side reflecting an extra set of eyes towards Desscaras.
“What’s wrong?” Ichi asks, any trace of self awareness Desscaras might've been hoping he had entirely absent from his tone.
He’d refined that edge so many times in the past few weeks alone. Desscaras had no doubts about how sharp it was. As she steps towards him, she watches the way the light trails along the blades edge.
Still frozen, watching, Ichi stares at Desscaras as she reaches forward. Then plucks the knife right out of his hands.
“Hey! Give it back!”
Desscaras grins down at him in the way she’s prone to doing; teasing grin seeming to be the only smile she’s capable of.
“Nu-uh. Brats playing with scissors get their scissors stolen.”
Ichi crosses his arms, glaring up at Desscaras as she looks over the knife’s edges.
“It’s not a scissor. It’s my knife.”
He holds out his hands expectantly, but Desscaras doesn’t drop it into his awaiting palms.
A flash of annoyance visibly flares through Ichi’s body.
“What, you can send me off to hunt Majiks but I can’t cut my own hair? I’ve been doing it since I was six. I’m not gonna hurt myself.”
Desscaras narrows her eyes.
“Well excuse me for trying to help you. If you fuck up your hair, the styling witches are gonna be pissed when they have to prepare you for appearances again. You've got an image to maintain now.”
Ichi grimaced. The overpoweringly floral scent of twenty cans of magic hairspray still clung to the inside of his nose. The thought of spending any more time than strictly necessary trapped in a chair while a bunch of witches poked at his eyes and pulled at his hair was far from appealing.
“Hmf." Ichi crosses his arms, bringing up his knees to crouch in a manner reminiscent of a disgruntled cat. "It’s getting in the way. Long hair is an inconvenience.”
Desscaras grins slyly, in competition to display even stronger feline tendencies than Ichi.
“Oh, really? Sounds like a you problem.”
She raises a hand towards her head, where her own perfectly maintained, intricate hairstyle falls just around her waist. Each curl is, as always, pulled exactly into place. She leans over, braids swaying to the side slightly.
“That’s not the same.” Ichi says bluntly. “Your hair is all braided and stuff, so it doesn’t get in the way.”
“Well then! Problem solved. Just tie up your hair.”
Ichi frowns, pulling at the cord keeping his meager ponytail pulled back. Yanking the old string free, his hair springs loose, puffing out as it falls a touch past his shoulders.
“The hair at the front doesn’t reach,” He explains, shaking his head about until all his hair is lying as loose as it can. It puffs out in pieces, rough cuts slicing through dry, brittle hair, a mess of frizz and static.
“Yeeesh.”
Ichi rolls his eyes.
“It’s not that bad.”
“It could be a hell of a lot better too.”
Unable or unwilling to dispute this, Ichi shrugs.
"Anyway, I can't tie it up all fancy. Whenever it gets too long in a spot I just cut it off."
Desscaras grimaces.
"That explains far too much."
"It's worked this long," Ichi says, striding forward and reaching over towards Desscaras' hands. She steps back, raising her arm above her head just slightly out of Ichi's reach. He might be able to reach it if he jumped, though at this point he knows Desscaras would just move it again.
"Come on!"
Desscaras crosses her arms, tucking the blade by her side.
"Nope! If you fuck up your hair then I'm the one getting an earful from Decora."
Ichi resists the urge to growl at her, knowing that doing so would only strengthen her position on calling him a dog.
"If you're so concerned, why don't you just fix it then?"
Desscaras' eyes scan over Ichi's head, flicking from the edges of his hair down to the roots.
"Alright," She says after a minute, "Today's your lucky day."
"…huh?" Ichi says dumbly.
"The effortlessly beautiful and immensely talented Desscaras will fix even your birds nest of hair! You should be thankful for this rare opportunity."
While Ichi just keeps standing there, wide eyed and slack jawed, Desscaras walks herself over towards the small chair in the corner. As sparsely decorated as Ichi's room was, it at least had seating for one guest, and there was no way she was sitting on his bed.
She picks it up by the back, carrying it over to the edge of the carpet and setting it gently down just by the edges of the golden trim. Tucking Ichi's knife into one of the many hidden folds in her clothes, Desscaras promptly sits, crossing one leg over the other.
"Well?"
Ichi blinks.
"Wait, I didn't think you'd actually say yes."
"Well, you thought wrong. I don't have all day, yanno."
Desscaras motions Ichi over and obediently, though still slightly taken aback, he follows, moving over to kneel properly on the carpet in front of her. He faces away from her so she can reach the back of his head.
"I'm not cutting it, I'll just tie it up. Properly," Desscaras explains.
In the end, Ichi doesn't really care about his hair. As long as it's out of the way and he's not outright bald, he wasn't picky. It didn't matter what she did with it, especially if it means he could avoid more time with the styling witches prodding at him. If someone had to do it, at least there were no issues if he complained at Desscaras.
"Okay."
As she takes hold of the first chunk of hair, Ichi stiffens, straight as a board.
“Relaaaax,” Desscaras drawls, “I’m the best at everything.”
Ichi only hums in response, but relaxes his posture just slightly. It takes a conscious effort, and he finds it strange. It really doesn't matter what he looks like, the end result is of no concern! Yet, the under current of extra awareness remains present.
She starts at the ends, carefully running her fingers through stroke by stoke.
“Aren't you supposed to use a brush for this?” Ichi commented idly. "That's what Kumugi does."
Desscaras scoffs.
“That's because Kumugi actually cares about her hair. Hell, even Gokuraku's hair is combed, on occasion. You on the other hand? If I tried to put a brush to this mess right now I’d trigger your reflexes for sure, and I’m not in the mood to deflect an attack right now.”
Ichi snickers.
"I thought you were the best at everything?"
Desscaras pulls her fingers through a knot a touch harder than is necessary.
"Just because your little outburst would be like a mosquito to me doesn't mean I'm fond of swatting at insects."
Ichi doesn't have a reply to that, and Desscaras continues to comb through with her fingers. It's an odd thing. Putting aside the singular display of pettiness Ichi had probably been asking for, she's… gentle? He can feel it, sure, there's motion, the quiet shuffle he can hear behind him. But it doesn't pull, it doesn't hurt. There's a certain care, a consideration Ichi hadn't come to associate with Desscaras, silently displayed with each little knot she unravels.
To acknowledge it aloud would shatter it.
The old grandfather clock in the corner ticks, ticks, ticks forward, and Ichi finds his breathing has slowed to match it.
"Hey, Desscaras?" Ichi asks idly as she pulls through another knot, "Can I have my knife back now?"
"Haah?"
"I'm not gonna use it! Just to hold."
Ichi feels the light exhale from Desscaras scoffing against the nape of his neck.
"You're way too trigger happy."
Ichi huffs, feeling the tug against his scalp as the chunk of hair Desscaras is holding goes taut with the strain.
"I just like having it on me. It's weird when it's not within reach."
"Nothing's gonna jump out at you inside your own room," She says, matter-of-fact.
"I know. I want it back anyway."
Desscaras sighs, "Fine, but if you even try and cut your hair with it, I'll have Decora's newest trainee try out every styling spell she's learned on you."
A shiver runs down Ichi's spine.
"Okay," He agrees, and Desscaras fishes the blade out of her hidden pocket, finally returning it to it's owner.
Ichi can't help the grin that rises to his face upon being reunited with the weapon. Fingers trace along the wooden handle, worn down to smooth after all these years. Freshly shined, his reflection looks back at him. It takes a significant amount of willpower to resist sharpening it again then and there. Only by reminding himself how annoying Desscaras' expression would be when she teased him for it did he manage to power through.
"Well, it was a gift." He retorts, indigence seeping through.
Desscaras hums above Ichi's head. If he tilts the blade just right, he can get the slightest view of her face, half obscured by his own head.
"What, from that former mentor of yours?"
Ichi blinks.
"Minakata? No, I got it back at the start, when I got brought up to the mountain."
Desscaras reaches around the edge of his face, pulling back some of the longer strands.
"Ahh. A going away present then."
There's a sharp clip to her words, the ends of the consonants bitten off. Through the knifes perfect reflection, he can see the furrow of her brow— though Ichi presumes that has more to do with his hair than his statement.
"…You get any other gifts from them?" Desscaras asks after a moment. With her hands wrapping Ichi's hair around her fingers, she skirts around all that's buried in his brain.
Some things, Ichi understands. He understands that being abandoned in the woods is generally not normal. He understands the looks the villagers had given him when he'd mentioned his circumstances—at least until he'd grown wise enough to stop bringing it up. He understands that Desscaras had seen his hut, and that she knew some things about him, but only some. For all that she teased him for being feral, he can't recall her ever touching on the circumstances that had lead to it. And that he does not understand.
He can make some guesses, and it's far from something he's concerned about. She'd never really mentioned anything from before either, so it evened out.
The idea of asking lingers around his shoulders. Of acknowledging a time before acclaim and fame and Desscaras, the Abyssal Witch. In his periphery, there is the subconscious awareness that there must have been a before. If only for a moment, if never in name, there had to have been something. No one comes from nowhere. There had to have been a family before him.
Neither of them will mention it, not without prompting anyway, and to inquire onto the other's secrets invites intrusion into your own. For Desscaras to prod like this… how badly did she want to know?
Ichi swallows.
Did he get anything else?
A little bit of food, and clothes that don't fit him anymore, and perhaps by proxy a lifetime of survival knowledge, and a few dozen scars. Really everything about Ichi, every little moment could be traced back to that day. In that way, everything he had become was a gift from them.
"Not really," Ichi says.
Desscaras ducks her head down, tying off the end of something out of Ichi's sight.
"Welp, I'm done here."
"H-huh?"
Desscaras dusts off her hands, standing.
"Your hair? I'm done with it."
Ichi lets out a breath he hadn't realize he was holding.
"Oh. Thanks."
Without prompting, Desscaras fishes out a mirror, emblazoned with the Association's emblem on the back, and hands it over to Ichi.
"Pretty good, huh!" She says smugly.
Sure enough, Ichi's hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. It's honestly not that different from his regular wear, save for a few changes. Firstly, she'd managed to wrangle all the stray tangles into neat sections, all pulled together so they flared out the other side of the golden charm holding the ponytail in place. For once it seemed more like a firework than a collection of weeds. A few long sections of his bangs had been twisted and wrapped around to reach the back. Most notably, on either side of his head, twin braids pulled back around, meeting at the ponytail and disappearing into that golden ring. A few smaller gold rings enclosed around sections of braids, glinting in the light.
Absentmindedly, Ichi reached a hand up to one of the ornaments. They were cool to the touch.
"Careful with that," Desscaras chides, "They're magic items, so they can adjust size to fit your hair better. If you fiddle with it they might slid off before you're ready to take em out."
Ichi nods slowly, but Desscaras has already turned away, squinting over at the old grandfather clock.
"Yeesh, is that clock right? Moneygold's gonna be so annoying, ugh."
Already looking over her shoulder as she walks towards the door, Desscaras says, "We got a meeting with Moneygold in like, four minutes ago. Come on. I gotta go find Mugi, but go on ahead. "
"Wait—" Ichi tucks his knife into the sheath and stands, still holding the mirror, "You forgot this."
"The mirror? Keep it. I got like, a dozen. Shit, you should have one of your own anyway… Do not let Togeice know you didn't have one before now."
She takes one step out the doorway—
"And the hairclips?" Ichi asks.
Desscaras pauses.
"When do you want them back?" He asks.
Though she doesn't look at him, doesn't move from where she's standing, she's silent for a moment. Then, with a voice softer than Ichi could recall from her—
"Keep those too. They're uh, a gift."
He can't picture what sort of expression she's making.
Without waiting for a response, Desscaras slips off down the hallway, presumably to drag Kumugi off to Moneygold for whatever nonsense she was calling them for.
Ichi proceeds out of his room, standing in the doorway and watching Desscaras's back disappear into the long winding halls of the association.
He glances down at the mirror, to his own blank expression staring back at him, and back over to Desscaras. Pale lantern light catches on one of the charms in her hair, glinting gold.
A gift, huh?
Ichi shoves the mirror in his pocket, and runs off down the hallway, heading the opposite way.
Due to it's length, I'm not crossposting it on tumblr, so check out the ao3 link!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rated: T
AI: The Somnium Files - No Sleep for Kaname Date
Hina Tsukiyono / Sakura Asahi, Hina & Pewter & Sakura
Words: 7.5k
Warnings: Angst, Grief, Medical Setting, Suicide
In another world, Hina's grief manifests in a plan far different than creating an AI. How better to help Sakura than to get inside her head? Literally.
Also, check out the wonderful art done by @thateyeballguy !!
