#simplemerchant

"..."

"..."

However, if you manage to endure the thorns, his hugs feel like an assurance of the self. As if you are the center of the world, and that nothing else matters other than you and the feeling of his arms. A hint of possession, and a dash of pure, unbridled devotion.

You are his everything.

Been thinking of so much unsettling and devious Luocha lately and one thing that's particular stuck in my mind is the fact that as an emanator of the Abundance (at least in my hc), he has an extremely precise and accelerated sense of healing that he can use even on himself.

He does use it on himself often in fact! He uses it to hide blushes, to be able to drink wine and not feel the effects of intoxication, and many other seemingly mundane things to keep up his impassive appearance.

On the other side of the coin, he can use it to escape confinement and will break his own joints and bones to slide out of restraints. All with a rather uncanny sense of ease, even as his body knits itself back together at horrifying speeds.

What if the bang is the sound of a bullet going through his skull at point blank. 🔫

What is there left after a horrifying bang? Nothing but silence in contrast to that echoing sound. Stillness, the slowly encroaching guilt of what you have done, the sin finally taking root over trembling hands.

A body, or, what should have been a body stands, gravity itself turning away from the abomination that lies before it.

Then, the sound of thorns bursting forth, melding flesh and bone back to origin in a grotesque squelch. A thorny mass writhing over and over again, weaving its monstrous brocade back into form.

The merchant stands before you. Perfect posture. Perfect form.

A simple smile adorned on his face, not a hair out of place.

"It is not so simple to rid of me, I'm afraid."

"Oh, what a quaint little game. Call me curious, I would like to take part-"

The card is slipped into Luocha's breast pocket with a click of Jing Yuan's tongue. It's hard to tell if he's actually disappointed or just poking fun at Luocha for not filling out the card earlier.

"You really had to tease me with the potential for a blackout only to take it away, hm?" He complains, but it's obvious he knows the traits chosen were not to spurn him specifically. "Ah, only seven.... how unfortunate for me."

Luocha can only raise an unamused brow as the paper is slipped casually into his breast pocket, the general exaggerating his woes with playful mirth sparkling in his eyes.

He lets the dry stare linger for a moment, before unhurriedly retrieving the folded card from his pocket, taking his sweet time to carefully scan bored greens over it.

He pauses at a certain square, a smirk lighting up his face.

"My, how fortunate for you, then, that I've caught a mistake," he drawls, plucking the red marker from Jing Yuan's own pocket and making a bold correction on the card himself, the squeak of the marker made pointedly poignant.

Without another word, he slaps the corrected card to Jing Yuan's chest with a hum, twirling the stolen marker between his fingers as he makes to walk away.

"Ten."

A low whisper is blown into Jing Yuan's ear, before just as quickly being drawn away. Luocha hums to himself as he saunters past the general, a sway in his hip as he turns the corner.

A stark, bold circle now stains the bingo card, the square reading "pitiful" now properly marked in red.

If you couldn't tell by my frequent use of Otto references and Otto icons, my Luochas are very much based around Otto Apocalypse. They share the same beginnings and religious trauma, as well as contempt for the divine. Where they differ, is Kallen's role in their stories, and how severely they reacted to the plague that scourged their worlds.

Both my Luochas lack an encounter with the Void Archives and the Honkai, so their plights were less based on a war against all powerful beings, and more against the plague and human greed. He still holds the Apocalypse name, however, his given name is not Otto. Otto is his middle name, however. His given name is something I'll keep close to my chest so very few people will learn of it.

He was born the youngest heir to the Apocalypse family, but was rather sickly. Due to his chronic illness, his family neglected and scorned him, thinking of him as being rejected by God.

This is where my Luochas diverge. Eventually, Thorns verse Luocha would meet Kallen, and she would be the first and only person to ever show him kindness and the beauty of the world.

Prayers verse Luocha, on the other hand, never had a Kallen. He lived his life constantly overlooked until the day he decided to watch his own world burn to a crisp as a symptom of their own hubris.

Thorns verse Luocha grew up with Kallen by his side, knowing his love would never be reciprocated, but was content with that anyhow, because he truly loved her.

Until the day she was executed for treason.

He offered any way out for her, but she refused, and Luocha could only look helplessly on as he respected her decision. Watching as the love of his life was taken by the very institution that justified his neglect.

It was then, that he gave up on his world, and was happy to watch it burn.

ALL FOUR, IN THAT ORDER, YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES-

If looks could kill, Jing Yuan would have met his fate 700 years ago. Maybe the rumors were right. Maybe Luocha's coffin was meant to house a body. He certainly wished to be able to shove a certain General in it at the moment.

Nevermind that it was all of his own volition that he ended up here, that he oh-so-willingly fell into a certain General's bed. The draw of their game simply too much to resist.

The push and pull of [Flattery] and wit.

The [Bang] of tension when either finally snapped.

The tangle in the sheets as they fell into [██████].

And finally, the lazy grin set on the General's face as he hovers a steaming spoonful of hearty congee in front of Luocha's face, looking all to happy compared to the merchant's indignant scowl.

Obstinate as ever, Luocha attempts to rise from his pile of bedding, only for a familiar pang to stop him in his tracks. His scowl deepens, eyes trailing to the food held tantalizingly in reach from the General, if only he would swallow his own pride.

... Maybe, just this once.