Mage's Muses

Made some big bullshit today, partially to try at some darker topics without actually going directly into health issues/death feederism, mostly by way of implied mindbreak. Here, the deterioration is mostly psychological/behavioural :3 (and hygiene-related).

@magesmeatymuses

The Raiden Shogun isn’t entirely what’s come over her as of recent.

It’s evening, a warm glow setting over the mountains cradling their campsite for the night. The shoals burble and whisper with salty tide from clear beach waves, and the ruddy autumnal leaves of the great maples overhead catch the fading light like a sunbeam through water. They are, as ever, busy settling in; Xiangling is frying fresh-caught eel and churning butter for their supper, Noelle’s taken to a hum as she peels and washes shallots and leeks from their soil-stained crevices, Tighnari has his tail tucked around his slender, girlish waist to keep warm in the high boughs of the treetops as he scans for their travel route tomorrow. The Sho- Makoto (it’s taken quite sometime for her to rationalize this burning sensation in her core, that she has the wherewithal to be someone now. It’s foreign, and frightening) is meditating in seiza to steel herself as the group’s sundering vanguard, a position and station she takes to with relish and aplomb.

It’s as fascinating as it is bemusing to be allowed a preference. A freedom.

There are two missing and unaccounted for as the sun of Teyvat slips down into restful slumber- Ei is sleeping, the Archon’s concerns and stress leading her into a state of drowsiness that Makoto is more than capable of making up for. That leaves Ichiban, who cares little for the nightly rapport and prefers to hover at the edges of their encampment until the moment they start walking again…and Lumine.

It’s an odd thing to not have Lumine bouncing around the tents looking for something to do, for someone to tease and flirt and laugh with. The Traveler is just such an unavoidably bright presence that Makoto sometimes needs to look away from the golden brilliance that she exudes. The warmth is, however, incredibly welcome, and her mood feels poorer for its absence.

Makoto stands from her rigid kneel, artificial joints silently sliding across each other like a seamless mechanical puzzle. “I intend to find Lumine. Might you know where she has ventured off to?” She calls up to Tighnari, watching his ears twitch in acknowledgement. He points forward and to the right, which by Makoto’s internal compass means near south-southeast. 

“Said she had to go figure something out. I didn’t want to push when she’s been so wound up lately, but…” He runs his teeth along his lip. “I’m worried about her. Stay safe, and don’t do anything rash, alright?”

Makoto finds the notion that she’s some kind of rowdy blood knight (like some sort of Traveler) so ridiculous that she can’t help a snort. It’s frighteningly human. “Your concerns are appreciated and entirely unneeded. I will, for your mental comfort, endeavor to return before Liyue Harbor sleeps.” The man looks over the horizon, where the lanterns of the city glimmer like a mirage, and nods. As she’s about to leave the clearing, she hears a decidedly ungraceful noise like a goose honking and turns.

Xiangling runs into Makoto’s replete rack like an airbag, bouncing off with a jolt. She’s carrying a large rucksack that she holds up to the Shogun- Makoto, in turn, takes the bag without a word. It’s heavy, at the very least a dozen kilograms, possibly double or more. “This is supper for Lumine!” The cook beams at the unasked question. “I won’t have her skipping meals on my watch, so get her chowing and give her a stern talking to for me, alright?”

Makoto gives Xiangling an amused look and a slight upturn of the mouth that could potentially be a smile. “As ever, Xiangling.”

---

It’s not hard to find Lumine at all, really. A brisk walk some fifteen minutes away from camp and Makoto already hears the telltale sounds of earth-crunching carnage. The area is marked by jutting spires of stone and paralyzed wood, worn smooth and thin by the erosion of thousands of years of wave action. The Electro-wielder steps gingerly onto the silvery sand seemingly just as the fight has ended, though her free hand remains ready to draw her blade. In front of her is Devasation- the timeworn beach is a smoking crater of Lector remains, limbs and fabric torn apart by a sword that sundered more than it cleaved. The figure left standing has their shoulders hunched, heaving breaths coming out in steaming clouds against the briny air. Golden blonde hair almost seems to spark and sizzle in the dim light.

Makoto unconsciously takes a step back, placing her bag down, as if the Traveler’s very existence is a warning not to intrude. There is something that cannot be put into words about her, but Makoto knows instinctually to tread lightly. “Lumi-”

There is a space between seconds where the Traveler is some few meters away, and in the next Makoto bars the Musou no Hitachi across her vision to block an impact that feels like a mountain falling upon her. The Traveler is almost entirely wreathed in shadow within the secluded sands, but her eyes seem to cast Makoto’s senses into frenzy. White hot, burning amber soaked in blood, pupils shortened into feral pinpricks, her bared snarl hissing steam that immediately boils and evaporates the moment it escapes from clenched fangs. Makoto grunts as her entire being roars with the sound of chirping lightning, and kicks the Traveler’s knee out from under her. The blonde beast stumbles for a fraction of a second, diving between the falling katana and the Shogun’s outstretched knee before jabbing the sword edge into the sand, turning on the hilt as a fulcrum to spin and slam her leg into the puppet’s shin. Makoto falls to one knee with a jolt, but her intense focus doesn’t let up, and the barrage of bladed strikes are parried with all the strength she can muster. Her sword finds purchase after a sloppy turn, throwing the Traveler’s weapon away, and she pushes off her downed leg to stab- and the Traveler’s hand grabs the legendary sword with bare fingers. Makoto attempts to wrench it from the woman’s grasp, but it’s like attempting to pull herself from the vast pressure of an entire ocean. The Musou no Hitachi is pulled like a string to one side, the Traveler’s other hand slams Makoto down into the soft earth. Supine on her back, the puppet stares into gleaming, dripping fangs, the razor teeth of an apex predator, lips peeled back in rage. And the eyes drift closer, the haze of a light so searing space seems to melt around it. The fangs close in, Makoto’s artificial breath hitches-

“Oh.” The spell breaks. There is a long moment of silence as the blonde’s head pulls up and away, viciously scrubbing at her eyes, and when Makoto sees those golden irises again, they’re full. Slits faded, and no longer did the Traveler pin her prey to the ground…Lumine was on top of the Shogun. “I…sorry, lemme just, sorry-” The girl frantically skittered off the taller woman and scurried to help her into a more comfortable position. “I really didn’t mean to-” Makoto held a hand up to silence Lumine. “It is nothing I was not expecting. I know intimately your state of mind, after what happened in your duel with Ei. When you saw me, you were in a state where I was indistinguishable from friend or foe, and your victory brought you back to your senses. I do find some fault in myself for losing yet again, but you are okay now.”

Lumine didn’t look relieved by the assurance; if anything, she looked perturbed and upset, her eyes pinched with worry and guilt and distress. “But- but you shouldn’t have had to! It’s not okay, right? That I get like that, that I just get so mad that-”

“That it takes over?” Makoto guesses, and Lumine nods in a sedate manner. “For what it is worth, you are not the only one that experiences such volatile emotions. I should well know- Ei’s grief has caused univoltine thunderstorms in the distant past. What matters is that I am present now when you need me most.”

Lumine looks unconvinced, but at least partially calmer. They sit in silence for a stretch, kneeled in the sand as the waves lap at the shore. Makoto is loath to broach the topic again when Lumine’s emotions are so raw, and there is something so much more pressing on the puppet’s mind. Something that slithered in her stomach as she looked at the golden-haired girl sitting next to her. It was something she’d suppressed since the moment that she’d watched Lumine, half-dead, roar and growl like a wounded wolf as Paimon begged for her life.

“Lumine. I want you to look at me.” Hesitantly, she did so, and was met with Makoto’s thumb entering her mouth for the trouble. Unable to do anything but gawp, Lumine’s stunned surprise only burgeoned as the puppet opened her mouth for her, running her fingers all along her teeth. “You have fangs.” Makoto said matter-of-factly. “Even your normal molars are sharp, and your canines are akin to that of a wolf or dog.” “Ahhih-” Lumine tries to interrupt, but Makoto shushes her gently, and the blonde sits back on her haunches obediently. The Shogun hums. “As I have learned of my own likes and wants and desires, the call of a life…and seeing you, as I have, in our day-to-day, has certainly affirmed something. I have something of an oral fixation, it seems- the mouth is an instrument vital to our expression. The way you talk, the way you eat, the way you react with my digits in your mouth. It fascinates me. Pardon for the inquiry, but Xiangling requested I bring your serving of the evening meal to you- may I feed it to you?”

It’s something of a challenge for Lumine to refuse, considering Makoto’s five free fingers were stuffed in her mouth and running softly along the points of her teeth. The puppet looks entirely sincere, her imperious gaze locked onto Lumine with a surety like steel. Slowly, quietly, Lumine nods, and Makoto makes a small noise of pleasure. She fishes in the bag for a moment, and a strip of braised eel dangles from her fingers, and she angles Lumine’s jaw, thumb on the lip, to chew on the savour of well-seasoned seafood. It’s delicious, expectedly, but just as the blonde relaxes, another strip enters her mouth. It’s a steady pace, Makoto watching severely as Lumine chews, her fangs slicing through meat fiber like hot knives. The sun is gone by now, the moon starting to show its pale face on the horizon, and they are silent for some time. At some point, Lumine’s head is nestled in Makoto’s lap, and she’s cradling her bloated stomach in her hands.

“Mff…alright, you can stop now.” Lumine mumbles, her vision of Makoto’s face obscured by the latter’s chest. “Really, genuinely. I’ve had enough.”

Makoto hums and begins to move Lumine off her lap, but the Traveler stops her. “...We can stay like this for a while.”

“I was under the impression that you were uncomfortable with your emotional outburst from earlier. Suffice to say you’ve relaxed?” Makoto asks rhetorically, but makes no motion to shift Lumine off her thighs. “I apologize if my interest in your teeth was untoward.”

“I- I don’t think it was that bad. It was…intimate. I kinda liked it.” It comes out of her mouth gently, but it feels like a flood when she says it. “Reminds me they’re not just for, y’know. Biting, killing.”

“They are good for that.” The Shogun agrees easily. “Your bestial way of fighting is a dangerous match for your strength. But you are a dear companion, and it eases my worries knowing your fangs bare for us rather than toward us.”

Lumine’s not entirely sure why, but it feels like she’s about to cry. Her eyes turn left, out at the distant swarm of billions of glinting stars in the sky. They feel so close in this moment, like they could fall into her open hands and she could hold them close.

They stay like this for a while. Eventually, Makoto urges them to return.

Paimon ribs Lumine over her stuffed state. Noelle and Xiangling titter like housewives at the way Lumine and Makoto come back holding hands. Tighnari sighs in relief before turning back towards the night sky.

Lumine looks up at Makoto. Makoto looks down at Lumine. Lumine grins, her fangs making her look like a pleased Golden Retriever. Makoto smiles awkwardly, rusty with disuse.