#noctaria

STOPPPP THIS IS LITERALLY HIM RN 😭😭😭😭

children are suppose to have a happy childhood . a place where a child can be just that - a child . a new life that is brought into a world, to learn, to enjoy, to have fun. for lohen it sounds nothing more then just a missed oppurinty in his life he didn't get to enjoy much of. Can he REALLY be told he had a childhood when he wasn't born like any other children? he knows only what he recalls, a SEGMENT. Utter nonsense that is nothing, but clear dribble to him. Lohen is always who he was. Lohen, not some Segment.

his mind locks a lot of his past away, only small parts of it bubble to the surface now && then before he let's it be buried once again. you couldn't make this up when he is faced to faced with a never ending shadow that haunts him. ❝ . . . ❞ a ghost , huh ? he might as well have . how long has it been ? he was rescued when he was only eleven years old...it's been ten years && now showing up right in front of him? got him an itch to throw hands.

❝ me ? seen a ghost ? oh no no no . in fact i am just disapointed. you show up after all these years, && you didn ' t even bother to bring the milk ! that's points deducted from you. ❞ he makes a tsk tsk sound as he crosses his arms over his chest, face still netural as he stares at the other. hmph. clearly there is nothing about the both of them that makes them look ANYTHING a like. ❝ failing at even being a capable adult. that doesn't suprise me at all. i wonder if that should go on the list! i call is a deadbeat person! you , naturally are at the very top of the list, i know. i know its such flattery for you . ❞

just go away . just . go . away . it's just a chant in his head . a repeat over & over phrase that works when he was a lot younger. if he was gone, then things would be okay. he won't even UTTER the name. even speaking the name confirms that its real, that is here & now. the vice captain refuses to even give that meance an inch of clarfication...those his emotions betray him, rather he knows it or not.

Buried deep beneath a well-established outpost situated in a vast coat of frost, where countless men and women of reputable prestige ensured the Fatui’s dominion remained absolute, a mercenary had been seen moving through the laboratory’s hallways. They had tried — and tried they did, but in his wake they were swiftly overwhelmed, leaving blemished splashes of blood across pristine walls of white as the aftermath of a fight no one had been prepared to win.

A large Fatui member rushed into the doctor’s sanctum, slamming the doors open hard enough to shake the frame. He was wheezing, frantically mustering just enough air to form any sensible words.

“ S-sir @noctaria! We’ve. . . we've got an intruder! ” the man exclaimed, balling over to inhale as much air as possible. It was there and then, swift and precise — a blade lacerated through the grunt's back, killing him faster than words could escape.

The agent barely had time to react, his report dying in his throat as he collapsed forward and beyond him stood someone far too eager for this meeting.

The space within the confinement was CRAMPED, four square walls without even a hairline seam wide enough to dig one's nails into. It had come up around him so abruptly that he'd barely had a moment's worth of time to register that he'd been trapped. But the shock of the circumstances was quickly waylaid by the sight of his captor - that familiar silhouette, like an unmistakably stark and defining caricature cut from fine paper, bold against the otherwise pervading darkness of their surroundings.

Within the space, his own voice seemed muffled to his ears. Aether paced, his eyes darting and alive with an electric trepidation, searching for any weakness in the structure that he might exploit and finding none. It seemed that the Harbinger's premeditation had paid off.

✧ [ CAUGHT ]: sender finds receiver somewhere they aren't supposed to be.. ✧ / @noctaria ✧

Crap where was she? why was it so DARK? curse her crappy eyes, suddenly she gasped hearing a voice call out to her, looking around nervously she kept herself in place checking all the surroundings around her. ' You gonna be a coward or come out and face me? ' Suddenly she turned and nearly collided with someone, a man it would seem, judging by his tall frame and how he stood so gentlemen like that would be Usagi's best guest. ' Where did you...? '

“Noctaria, a psychic titan who was slain long before the titans were sealed away. Many believe their soul splintered in their last second, giving life and form to hundreds of new beings.”

in   the   heart   of   the   palace,   the   quiet   is   absolute.   save   for   sound   from   the   gilded   excess   that   is   the   regrator's   sanctuary.   a   single   vintage   of   red   wine,   so   rare   its   price   could   buy   a   small   province,   sat   decanted   between   them,   its   bouquet   dark   like   the   secrets   they   shared.   as   pantalone   poured   the   liquid   into   crystal   stems,   watching   the   candlelight   dance   within   the   deep   crimson,   he   felt   a   rare,   unsettling   peace   settle   over   his   heart.

across   from   him   sat   the   doctor,   the   only   man   whose   conviction   rivaled   his   own.   a   man   who   does   more   than   merely   scoff   at   the   divine;   in   their   conversations   did   they   find   that   their   respective   goals   to   dismantle   and   usurp   the   heavenly   throne   is   what   continues   attracting   the   banker   toward   dottore's   presence.   perhaps   this   is   when   pantalone   realizes   this   wasn't   merely   a   partnership   of   convenience.   not   anymore.   it   became   a   profound,   sacrilegious   reverence;   he   felt   seen,   beyond   adorning   the   appearance   of   a   financier   and   a   harbinger,   dottore   sees   him   as   a   man   who   was   wronged   by   the   archons.   this   mutual   hatred   building   the   foundations   of   their   blossoming   friendship   and   subsequent   affection. 

he   isn't   surprised   by   the   realization   that   he   adored   the   monster   before   him.   it   has   existed.   like   a   seed,   its   roots   have   burrowed   somewhere   deep   past   his   iron-clad   heart   and   took   root.   nourished   by   little   gestures   they   would   exchange.   prolonged   stares,   a   small   touch;   the   closeness   of   their   respective   proximity   that   would   otherwise   be   given   space.   pantalone's   visage   writes   a   tender   countenance--a   quiet   comfort   in   the   confirmation   that,   for   once,   he   was   not   alone   in   his   heresy.

❝     i   have   spent   my   life   accumulating   the   things   the   gods   denied   me,   filling   the   void   with   gold   and   grandiosity,   yet   I   find   that   the   most   exquisite   acquisition   isn't   something   that   can   be   stored   in   a   vault.    ❞   he   pauses   deliberately   to   allow   the prelude to his confession   to   sink   in.   and,   in   tandem,   indulging   a   sip   of   wine.   putting   the   glass   aside   upon   the   coffee   table,   pantalone   shuffles   closer   to   dottore.   the   smile   he   dons   isn't   one   of   conniving,   fox-like   trickery,   nor   does   it   spell   a   facade;   it   is   a   sincere   contentment--a   wry,   genuine   smile   pulling   at   his   lips--that   even   the   regrator   has   not   felt   in   quite   a   long   time.

❝     in   the   times   we've   spent   together,   i   have   grown   disturbingly   fond   of   you.   not   for   your   utility,   though   it   is   vast,   but   for   the   simple   fact   that   in   this   wretched,   divine-obsessed   world,   you   are   the   only   mirror   that   doesn't   reflect   a   lie.   you   are   the   only   one   whose   achievement   of   godhood   i   would   pray   to   one   day   for   salvation.    ❞

but   it   does   not   last   long.   he swiftly conceals   this   sudden   soft   vulnerability   beneath   a   mask   of   practiced   smugness,   pantalone   leans   back   to   reclaim   his   glass.    their   conversation   drifted   through   the   mechanics   of   their   progress,   a   delightful   dance   of   intellects   that   pantalone   eventually   sharpened   into   a   more   dangerous   edge   as   they   continued   to   indulge   their   respective   drinks.   pantalone   may   have   acclaimed   to   tolerate   intoxication,   yet   the   flushed   cheeks   belies   such   notion.

❝     you   know,   doctor,     ❞    he   murmured,   his   voice   dropping   to   a   silken,   provocative   register   as   he   leaned   forward   until   the   scent   of   chemicals   and   fruity   cologne   mingled,

❝     while   everything,   including   humans,   may   bear   a   price,   i   for   one   possess   a   high   value   that   makes   me   untouchable.   metaphorically,   of   course.     ❞ 

he   let   the   word   linger,   a   sensual   dare   whispered   directly   into   dottore’s   ear,   his   breath   ghosting   over   the   other   man's   skin.   the   bait   was   set,   and   dottore,   perhaps   swayed   by   the   vintage   or   the   sheer   audacity   of   the   regrator’s   tone,   didn't   hesitate.   with   a   clink,   dottore   set   his   glass   aside   and   surges   forward.   the   movement   was   a   blur   as   he   pinned   pantalone’s   wrists   to   the   plush   arm   of   the   couch,   straddling   his   lap   with   a   heavy,   grounding   weight   that   forced   a   sharp   grunt   from   pantalone’s   lungs.

 "   you’re   not   as   untouchable   as   you   act ~.   " 

dottore   teased,   his   eyes   gleaming   with   a   predatory   amusement.   pantalone   rewards   the   doctor's   boldness   with   a   grin,   the   victory   of   the   provocation   lighting   up   his   features. 

❝     then   prove   it,   and   see   if   you   can   afford   the   interest   ~.    ❞    he   taunted,   before   closing   the   distance   to   press   his   lips   firmly   against   dottore’s   in   a   searing,   triumphant   kiss.

Gentle Care

The little Vidyadhara had no concept of passing time when he had only ever been in a dark and isolated cell. How long he'd been down there was a complete mystery, as was so many other things. Why his egg was in a cold and unwelcoming place, why he'd been immediately chained up upon the shell of his egg breaking and eyes opening for the first time, and why the chain around his ankle and wrist had never once been taken off. But the little one wasn't allowed to ask anything, that had become abundantly clear when he simply got yelled at or ignored or even hit for asking even a simple question of where he was or why he was here.

That's just how it had been all this time, however long it'd been.

The Vidyadhara had seen many faces during his time down there, guards of varying size and levels of cruelty. Some simply there to toss food to him so the rumbling in his stomach would subside for a little while, some to go as far as curse him for what he did and laugh when the little dragon startled or cowered away when words were yelled particularly harshly at him.

So when a man came down with bags in either hand and was simply smiling as he was allowed into the Vidyadhara's cell, the child didn't know how to respond.

He didn't know how to feel as he watched the man unpack things and be brought more provisions from guards and left alone, and had the little one sit on a table that even his shackles allowed him to be on. It was chilly to sit on, but then again so was the air around them in this isolated space.

And it wasn't until he got strapped down beyond what the two shackles did that the Vidyadhara started to feel scared out of uncertainty what was going on. But squirming and asking to be let go did nothing, simply pulled a chuckle out of the blue haired man wearing a mask where only his mouth was visible as he continued preparations, talking aloud as he did so. How a chance to experiment on a Vidyadhara didn't come often, and on one where his rebirth was different from all the others, how he couldn't pass up an opportunity to see how the former High Elder's body was in this life after being forced into a molting rebirth and having it ended before it was due?

The words 'High Elder' meant nothing to the little Vidyadhara in terms of himself, all he knew now was the panic setting in as things began to poke at his skin, pointy sticks going in and taking things out, feeling pain whenever he squirmed, how poking his horns was mildly uncomfortable, yelling when what very few scales he had dotting his skin were pulled on and one was even removed entirely (the little one didn't even know those could come off).

Everything this man talked about during all of these things only served to confuse the little Vidyadhra further since he'd never had his horns broken off and his scales had never been touched before today, he'd (yet) to be physically beaten, and he'd yet to be denied food to see how long magic (that he didn't even think he had) could sustain him for. He simply didn't understand, not before, not now, and it was highly unlikely he'd understand tomorrow either. And with how his arm throbbed in that moment, the reassurance that it would feel better in the morning didn't bring the scared Vidyadhara much comfort. Perhaps it really would stop hurting soon, but it wasn't going to erase how confused and frightened he still was in that moment.