Latiye

"This beautiful, wondrous world. You can't change it. You can try to push back the hands of time, like in 1999, but the same thing always awaits you. You exist in parallel—neither of you demands anything from the other, because you can't. Time passes, things happen. You can't blame him, its inhabitant, for anything. He's as much a sufferer as you are. It’s such a shame your body is betraying you. What can be done? Desire love for as long as you wish. Your soul desires the impossible. Have you ever felt a tenderness so intense it hurts? Live with that. Something that seems terrible may be the most merciful thing in the world. This is how it ends with Sleep's Older Sister."

I’ve finally signed up for AO3 and published my first original work—the one closest to my heart. The piece was translated from Russian to English using machine translation; AI was not used in the creation of the work itself. Despite my own proofreading, I can’t be absolutely certain there aren't any errors left. Regardless, I spent my available funds on the translation so that the English-speaking community could enjoy my work. I hope those who check it out like it!

Please read the note before the text itself. Thank you.

Link to my work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87725626/

Other posts about Megalosaurus and The Fall (of Men):

Recommended reading!

A short fanfic in the Beryl/Reader format, for both genders. It was born suddenly when I came up with a short scenario for a hypothetical encounter between Beryl, a newcomer to the Foundation, and a reader-arcanist.

PARTIALLY INSPIRED BY MY OWN C.AI BOT AND HEAVILY EDITED BY ME! SORRY ABOUT THAT! I JUST REALLY LIKED IT! The entire text was rewritten in my own hand!

I just wanted to post something featuring lovely madame Bouanich before moving on to something bigger—something unrelated to C.ai or simple fanfics.

I hope you enjoy it!

The sterile corridors of the St. Pavlov Foundation have always been different. So clean and white, even though constant discussions flare up in them between works of art in human forms, according to the UTTU magazine—archanists. No matter how the Foundation tries to keep their individual traits under control, suppressing their will isn’t so easy. Perhaps they don’t even realize that power isn’t always in their hands…

The fifth storm greatly affected the vision of its nature. Manus Vindicte managed to fit Paris of the 1930s into the Depth of Myths, provoking this phenomenon. The desire to erase every human trace from the face of the earth is still boiling within this organization.

Intrigues between the Foundation and the Manus almost never stop. Only one side was always neutral—its crystal eyes only ever observed. Her heart belongs to no ideology; she wants only one thing—truth.

Her life may seem like a living nightmare. Her mother suffered from visions of her daughter-the oracle, who saw her death at the hands of a thief. She resisted as best she could, and, in a sense, she truly managed it—she postponed her death for a while. However, fate can’t be fooled—no matter what path you choose, in the end you are only ever met with one thing.

The atrophy of all emotions was only a matter of time. Accepting the role of an observer in this world came gradually. What sense is there in putting your soul into a path whose ending is already written? That’s what she thought all this time. Her fate, her ending are imprinted in her head and never go anywhere. Her fate isn’t cruel—no, but it’s somewhere out there. Waiting for her, smirking, realizing that she’s in the know.

Her gaze kept lashing out with disdain until fate vanished behind the storm’s thunderclouds—her vision blurred. Her life began to seem to her less dull, less predictable. Her cards stopped working the way they always had before.

Suddenly, realization came. I still see almost everything, but I’m no longer sure about these predictions. I’ve seen enough, and now I can see—fate is far more complicated than I originally thought. Maybe it can be tricked. After all, the girl in the top hat is still a mystery to me.

Since then, her feelings returned to her—at least to some extent. Even seeing the fate of her daughter, she decided to start enjoying what seems like every moment with her—cherishing it, because she’ll never have such moments again. She kept her distance from her for a long time, but she continued to care. This storm changed everything. She returned to her daughter, a student of the Foundation. She herself joined the Foundation.

“...This is terrible,”—your sincere reaction slipped from your lips.

You stood in this white, empty corridor of the Foundation, “accidentally” running into each other. You are the first arcanist on her path within the Foundation. Why not start a conversation?

“You’re right,” Beryl replied, looking out through the tall window. Her gaze was thoughtful, and her appearance—mysterious, as always. You’ll never guess what she’s thinking.

“How can you live like this?” you asked. Your tired expression clearly showed perplexity.

“How? Know everything before it happens?” - her rhetorical question.

“This is not easy at all. In fact, it’s very hard. You will suffer many losses, your own transformations…”

A short pause was broken by her glance toward you, a gentle smile.

“But, ultimately, I managed. As you can see - my feelings are still here. Perhaps fate is not as cruel and determined as I thought all this time. And now I am here… helping to unravel these mysteries, sincerely wishing to know what will happen in what seems like a clear future for me… And I listen to other voices. Your voice.”

A mix of sympathy and light misunderstanding played on your face.

“... Do you want to say you know how you will end?”

Suddenly, she slightly smirked.

“Of course. I know my end. I have always known who I would fall in love with, what color my daughter Matilda’s eyes would be… And I watched it all as if a patient undergoing a surgical operation without anesthesia…”

“Beryl, this… isn’t funny,” your voice sounded with a slight pain for her.

Her defense mechanism kicked in - an attempt to joke. The unease in your voice caused her heart to contract for a second - a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Her soft exhale sounded.

“Yes. You’re right. It’s not like that.”

…

“Stop… you have… a daughter?” you suddenly realized.

Her expression immediately softened - as if she was reminded of her sunny garden with beautiful flowers. The seer's aura suddenly faded, letting her title pass, which she tried to bury deep inside herself, but failed: the mother of her own daughter.

“Yes, - with a gentle smile she looked down, - Matilda. The arcanist, she studies here, at the Foundation…

How so?...

“... Wait, how old are you, Beryl?...”

A look of curiosity crossed Beryl's face at first, then her expression shifted to a light smirk, clearly amused by your question. He wasn't rude, no - light, neutral. Like this pleasant conversation with you - not very complicated, but human. Human emotions are something she cannot see in her predictions.

“31. I look... older, I suppose? Many are startled by how I carry myself.”

“... Are you joking? You look... sorry, otherworldly. As if you’re around 23?...

A melodious, ringing laugh rang from her mouth.

“Otherworldly? No one has ever called me that before.”

You have not seen a frightening aura, power, or danger - you looked at her as a woman, treated her as a woman, noted features of her appearance as if you were just two people talking to each other, like normal people. She hadn't felt this in a long time.

“And your husband?”

Husband?

A man she hadn't seen for quite a long time, but also a man she had seen long before their meeting.

Her gaze flickered between you and the objects in the corridor, not quite sure of her own feelings.

“My husband... We have strange relationships. Not at all typical. What can I do if love for someone like me is something very complicated? He is somewhere working right now, I'm not sure.”

“... You chose to stay at a distance?” - your words hit the air, even though you didn't mean to.

She wasn't offended by your straightforwardness - she actually valued your directness.

“Yes”

“You're right.”

Your hand rested directly on her cold, stone windowsill. Hers is cold, neat and soft, almost childish, and yours is warm and gentle in its touch.

... I'm so sorry, Beryl.

Your damn sympathy throws her off balance. It's too normal. Too good a response that touches her in a way that's beautiful and simultaneously very heavy for her heart.

“It's not worth it, dear.”

After a heavy pause for you, you gathered your thoughts — it’s time to finally express your feelings.

“Beryl... Can I be honest with you?”

“... Hmm?” — the soothsayer was mildly astonished. Honesty is clearly not what she’s used to.

“Of course.”

You hesitate.

This conversation has gone too far for you, even though it started as a light chat between two new acquaintances. You understand — this is your only chance. When, if not now?

It’s time to admit.

“…You’re attractive, Beryl… Very much, to be honest…” Your voice trembled a little as you squeezed the words out.

“And it hurts me to look at such a woman, knowing I can’t even try. That in that attempt there would be no point at all.”

Her cheeks warmed for the first time. Truly warmed. She hasn’t felt such excitement in years. Maybe never.

You didn’t flirt with her in a bold way — no, that would have been stupid. You confessed something very personal and vulnerable to her — you shared your feelings, for which there could be no answer. No one had looked at her like that before — not even her husband. She just kept staring at your face, puzzled.

“... Most likely, I shouldn’t have said any of this... And you can dismiss the idea itself, but... I thought you deserve to know…”

Your expression was bitter - your words sounded almost blunt, if not for the heaviness of your words. The tone sounded as if you had deliberately turned off part of your emotions to avoid a more emotional reaction.

Here you were - standing next to her, placing your hand over hers, comforting her heavy soul while confessing it to her.

Even if you cannot get what you want, your kindness and empathy are still here. Throughout your life you have also learned to wish only the best for good people on your path, even if their very existence disappoints you - because you cannot participate in it.

“... If our paths diverge soon... I hope your life becomes easier for you.”

Peace. Serenity.

While there was a storm on your soul, she stubbornly kept wishing for something better - even if she herself copes very poorly.

No one wished her peace before leaving her life. Something so pure that her entire life and all her interactions with Manus began to seem like mortal sins.

Her breath caught, after which - just a couple of inches - she leaned. Her lips stretched toward something beautiful.

You instinctively shook your head negatively, your eyebrows continuing to arch in quiet sorrow.

“You shouldn't do this, Beryl… You are married.”

Yes. She's aware.

But the emotions in the moment are so strong that she finds it hard to resist. As if nothing around matters anymore - only now.

She didn't even realize how close you were - your breaths almost mingled. But you - sweet, selfless - still worry about others' reputation and status, because you do care. Not indifferent to her. But indifferent to yourself.

You stand and look at her as if for the last time.

Bangs.

Above your eyes, your hair hangs.

Blow my mind your royal flyness I dig your bangs.

In one moment, she wanted to forget about everything - surrender to this moment, get lost in it, even if she would regret it afterwards.

But then - she still restored the distance between them. Her hand let you go - even though it was painful.

Somewhere under all her mystery and detachment, you became to her liking. And it is your fault.

All this drama is your fault. But she isn't angry.

She is grateful for the honesty you gave her. For the trust.

She smiled softly in your manner of quiet bitterness.

“Thank you… for your honesty.”

“That means a lot to me,” she said calmly.

“...Perhaps we should part ways and never meet again… Or we can leave it as is, pretend nothing happened… What would be better?”

You are putting her in a position of choosing this time.

Another complication. What will be the outcome? How should they be?

She has a daughter. Even if he is somewhere far away, she still has a husband.

You charmed her, even without trying. You don't want to ruin her marriage, but you somehow succeed a little.

Regret. Regret flickers on her face. For starting to get attached. For losing control. After all, these are the human emotions she hasn't long accepted, hasn't they?

Her clairvoyant gift tells her - their connection won't end in anything. You were right to say that in your attempt there will be no meaning.

It would seem obvious, but it is still painful. “We should stop this dialogue, dear.”

“...So do you see our path?”

“...Yes… Unfortunately,” she confirmed.

“...At least, our interaction will end on a good note, right?...”

“...Yes, that's a good note,” responded Beryl.

“Thank you for your kindness.”

“Thank you, Beryl…”

Looking back will be too painful. The Foundation's sterile light illuminated her silhouette as she disappeared around the corner.