anthology of stories

#LERECUEIL: a collection, compilation, anthology, or repository of things, often literary works like poems, stories, laws, or data, gathered into a single volume or set.

an independent and private multimuse by becks. she/her, 30+. originally est. 1 jun 2023. most recently moved 11 jan 2026. mutuals and 21+ only.

featuring largely interconnected original characters, with a small handful of canon characters from various sources. character list under the cut.

low to moderate activity. please read rules and information before following and interacting.

carrd.

a shuffle, a thump, and another frustrated yelp escapes simeon's corner, followed by an unintelligible string of muttered obscenities. finally, the clothing on the rack parts as he pushes his head through, rumpled locks falling messily over his forehead. his face, fresh and cleaned now of stage makeup, pinches in a pout until his gaze falls upon his guest. almost despite himself, his expression relaxes into a half-shy smile – before he disappears again behind his makeshift wall.

" you really won't tell me where we're going? " sim pretends to whine as he rustles through the racks of clothes again with a humph. a sigh follows, then the shink of metal against metal as he pulls another item off the rack. remaining in constant motion makes it at least somewhat possible to disregard his own thrumming pulse, the youthful excitement gripping at his throat as he holds one outfit after the other experimentally against his chest. " I don't know what to wear! "

and among those who might believe that much, who could imagine her with a smoldering cigarette in one hand, leaning as close as she can to the nearest filtration vent?

one of the benefits of the lower decks is that the air filtration system hits these areas last. so while they maintain the foulest and stalest air, there's less of a chance of a whiff finding its way up to the bridge, or the crew deck. not to mention that blowing each thin line of smoke directly into the vent beside her minimizes any smell lingering here with remarkable effectiveness. she's practically made an art form of it. with a bitter sort of comedy, freya realizes how reminiscent of her youth this is, when she'd sneaked onto the roof of her father's building in the citadel to hide the one rebellious act which might cause him shame. she can't decide now if shame is what she feels anymore – or if she just wants to keep something for herself.

it's an ugly habit, she knows, and one of which she'd rid herself for many years before ... well, all of this shit happened. she managed to get through her time with cerberus without picking it back up, but she suspects that had more to do with a lack of time than any particular commitment. it had been house arrest that did her in, all her nerves and grief and fury and guilt and helplessness coalescing into hours of chain smoking while leaning out a window – in between pacing circles around her flat. unfortunately, that made vega one of the only crew members with a clue about this particular vice. more fortunately, he'd been remarkably easy to convince that she quit after reclaiming the normandy. she has no desire or intention for him to learn otherwise.

but of all the members of this crew – vega included – she expects she'd prefer that any of them to catch her here, rather than the familiar shadow that falls over her left shoulder.

" shit, " she hisses bitterly to herself, not even bothering glancing up to see whatever judgment, disdain, annoyance, amusement, et cetera that saren may be exhibiting with the weight of his gaze trained on her. of all the bloody– ... but it almost had to be, didn't it? and she had almost no doubt, even in that instant moment, that he'd sought her out.

god almighty, did she miss when he didn't give enough of a shit to bother.

" would've heard it on the com if there was an emergency, so I take it you've sniffed me out for your own reasons. congratulations, arterius, here I am. " for a moment, she considers stubbing out the cigarette as if to hide it – but there's no doubt he's seen it, so instead, she inhales deeply before blowing another delicate stream of white smoke into the vent. " might as well tell me what the hell you want. "

the easy answer is business. perhaps the more complex one is to remind himself that he is only half his mother and that he must remain vigilant about which parts of him are not.

he cannot help but notice the proximity of perhaps the most favored performer of the evening, if in large part due to the sheer weight of the ravenous stares which follow her. doubtless she has no intention to approach him – and for his part, he keeps his gaze occupied upon tracing the outline of the liquor bottles against the back shelf. a drop in the bucket or not, the heaviness of another set of eyes cannot possibly be something that such a woman seeks. perhaps it is for the same reason that he chooses to speak to her, thinking his question clear even if that isn't so much the case, " it must be exhausting. "

siren simeon captured for a royal menagerie / zoo / sideshow / whatever fits. feral, uncooperative, in mourning, everyone assumes he can't understand / speak but he's just refusing to. slowly builds unwilling bond with man who Happens to be around for a fairly unrelated reason and takes an interest in whatever's going on with this creature even though he can't do anything at the time about his captivity. ( could be a royal who doesn't have a ton of power at the time or noble or worker for a royal menagerie, patron or worker for a zoo / sideshow, etc. )

the very last thing princess zelda needs is somebody else to worry too much about her. and, goddess, doesn't colette of all people understand how grating such a thing can be. for a beat, she can feel the heat of embarrassment in her throat, although it clears after only the briefest moment. worry aside, she is far from babying her, at least. if anything, she is every inch the grounded, rational woman she usually is, with a nearly unforgiving pragmatism. that practicality speaks to her drive toward survival – which, quite naturally, extends to the woman sitting across from her. whether or not she is royalty matters little, in the grand scheme of things, more than the simple fact that colette admires her. ( perhaps identifies with her as well, although she would never have the gall to say as much aloud. )

" I know that asking you not to go for the sake of my concern won't stop you, because it would not stop me, in your shoes. " she lifts her pencil from the set of blueprints before her, again casting her attention entirely to the princess and softening almost microscopically. the truth is, she knows she would feel disappointed, if zelda were not so motivated, although she won't say it aloud. " I know you have those assigned to protect you, but let me come along. I have been working on prototypes for the very purpose of security, for you and your protectors, that I will have to test in the field anyway. I cannot think of anybody better to help me dissect the weaknesses of my inventions. "