#socks writes

“Mhm.” The taller bot agrees as he is heard to be stirring the instant coffee. “They have the right to check in. You are still something of a thorn in their sides.”

He turned and then took his normal slow, long strides over to the picnic table he had set up. With Killcodes legs it was really more of a struggle to not overstep than anything else. Setting the hot, brimming cups of coffee down, he crouches to sit on a blanket he’s laid near the tables end and across from Eclipse. A distance which he knows the other prefers.

A scoff is heard as Eclipse takes his cup and glares into it. “You think they’d hide that better.” He says as he takes a sip.

Killcode also doesn’t look up from his own drink, he’s become very quiet. Not unusual, the larger animatronic often thinks deeply about his words, he isn’t a fast talker after all. At this point Eclipse has learned to wait for a response from him.

“It is still nice to hear from them. Even if their intentions are… obvious.”

Eclipse responds to this with a cold, pointed look...

“However, they're asking how we're doing,” KC said and he could practically hear Eclipse roll his eyes at these words. “And Earth is always so willing to converse.”

“Yeah, like she isn’t talking enough over there.” Eclipse retorted, his cold demeanor melting away to the heated response that was right on the boarder of anger.

KC looks over to Eclipse as he takes a drink of his own coffee. Sighing at how the smaller animatronic continued to wall himself up from the new addition to the family. If Eclipse could ever bring himself to acknowledge he was a part of it.

Killcode however always did… regardless if it had meant anything at first...

“She’s very open about herself and the others. I think you could learn something from her. Or at perhaps humor her a little more.” He said and chose to overlook the glare that these words earned him.

Eclipse didn't hold the glare for long before he sighed and looked over to the kettle, as he’d already halved his coffee. He toyed with the idea of a refill but... ugh, but the hassle of having to readjust himself afterwards-

“That airhead doesn’t know anything. She might as well just be talking to the walls.” He grumbled as he returned to focus on his now nearly empty coffee cup. Does he really have to move? Like hell he’s asking KC to get it for him.

“She’s… forgetful, yes that is true. However I do appreciate her efforts to talk with everyone. It’s endearing although… she is missing a lot of information.” KC said as he had silently taken notice of Eclipse's frequent glances at the kettle.

“It sounds to me like she’s just trying way too hard to get to know everyone and what their problems are. Not like it’s a secret. I know they talk about how she’s programmed with all that therapy shit. It’s why they keep pushing Lunar onto her, like he needs it.” Eclipse grips his cup as his anger briefly boils. Lunar… God what an idiot. They’re just babying him. Eclipse cringes as he thought back on how Lunar screamed about how much he wanted him dead.

There is only a slight hum in response, Eclipse looking over to see KC staring. Not at him, no, but past him. Lost in thought. The smaller bot had always found it hard to read his face during these moments. After a moment or so he sighed in annoyance, before continuing.

“If she’s trying to be their sister, she can’t also be their therapist. The amount of shit she’d have to go through... I doubt she’d be able to handle that mess. But that’s probably what the Creator wants right? Another failure, or for some other stupid reason.” Eclipse didn’t fail to see the slight twitch from KC when he mentioned that weirdo. He'd learned pretty fast he was never going to get answers about it from his ‘father’. “I agree… She would only hurt herself trying to shoulder everyone else's burdens. Even if she’s programmed too; it would be irresponsible for us as her elder siblings-” Eclipse coughed into his drink and practically snarled at those words. Not that Killcode paid him any mind as he just continued with his thoughts. “to let her continue like that. It does make me worry for her.” KC finished. But he sighed, seeing the look of resentment still adorning Eclipses' small face. How else is he suppose to refer their familial bond?

“Although, I appreciate her efforts in making sure there IS communication between the brothers. Do you not think that is helpful?” He said as he took the first sip of his coffee, noticing that it had gotten a little cold. Perhaps Eclipse’s drink must’ve as well. He could make use of that...

It was just as he heard a scoff on the other end that Killcode stood up. Now seeing clearly that Eclipses cup was empty just as Eclipse began to fidget with it moreso. More importantly, KC can tell the topic of this conversation has come to a close. “Did you want a refill, Eclipse?” “No.” He absolutely wanted a refill.

Killcode merely turned to grab the kettle, just as Eclipse suddenly became indignant at realizing the taller animatronic intended to get him that refill of the blessed caffeinated beverage. Eclipse started to declare that he could do it himself... Only for the latter to topple out of the chair and fall face first onto the damp ground... along with the phone books he was sitting on. "We really need a better chair for you.” “Oh shut up!”

------ I WROTE A FIC FOR REAL. I had this scene in my head the one day but I knew itd take a while to draw and i have been meaning to try writing again. Which im glad I got it down, cause... sighs at the many things I have in concept between characters. I don't know when I'll do it again, but I have a comic to finish first. This has been proofread and edited by @thorns-and-rosewings

The only bruises Vespera has ever suffered cover his knuckles like purple roses and they are a poor mirror of what they inflict on another frailer body. Vespera holds the bloodline in his hands. Imagine that there’s a heart passed down through the Ragnvindr bloodline, still beating as long as the name continues, that Vespera has in his hands. That is the prize jewel to him, regardless of the gore it spews out over his hands when he squeezes it. Imagine that every member of the family alive shares that heart - but the one holding it doesn’t feel the squeeze. Only the flesh, only the blood. 

Alopex is the enabler. Alopex laps up the scent of this blood like a hound to a freshly felled corpse - like a fox to the blood of a hare, spilled under a viper’s fangs. Who better to allow this predator’s hunt than a greater predator? What better position could there be to protect the most prominent noble, than the most prominent Knight.

Terror falls under Alopex. What more is there to say, other than tyranny. Mondstadt has no kings, but there need not be a crown for this tyrant. They are afraid of their own commander. Some of the younger Knights have gone missing, sometimes, after erring on an expedition. No one asks what happened to them aloud. There are mutters - but anything louder, and someone will come to call.

The bond between the two is not love. It could not be called love. Perhaps it resembles it in crimson-tinted glasses, but it is not. A fox and a viper entwined together, teeth and fangs, venom and gore. Beautiful, in a way, in the way that the twitching of a corpse is, in the way that the glisten of a blade in the sun is, as it presses down again into bone.

A perfect bond to hold a city full of meek subjects in line. (Except for a wolf.) A perfect bond to hold a silent child in line. 

— 

Crepus comes about in the way that many noble children do, albeit a little more unorthodox and a little more hushed. Vespera’s father dies early on. It’s not remembered how, and it’s not relevant - only that the only heir to the line is of age, with the Ragnvindr heart in hand, and in need of an heir. 

Fontaine is a place of nobility, too. There are old noble lines there that clamour and fall over themselves for a chance to have a link to Mondstadt’s most influential family. It does not matter to Vespera, except that the woman who will bear his child is strong enough to bear him a son worthy of inheriting the title. That is all. 

There is a woman who catches his eye, bathed in Fontaine’s humid, eclipsed sunlight, who will do just fine. Healthy eyes. Bright eyes, good skin, a strong body suited for childbearing - and a hatred for him. No matter. There is a reason that the Winery has such wealth amassed over so many years. Enough money offered in a dowry, enough to buy a city thrice over, and she relents. Anyone would relent. The ceremony happens, the rings are exchanged, the… bond consummated, and as soon as they are out of each other’s sight, the rings are quickly pocketed. Neither of them care for them. So long as they remain intact, then the contract holds, and that’s enough. A child comes of it. Crepus. Dusk. It comes after evening - comes after Vespera, himself. It’s fitting for the child. 

—

The child cries. A lot. The child cries so much. The child does not stop crying for days - but it is an awful sound. A pathetic sound. Weak. Wheezing. Gasping, like the lungs in its chest were not made to support life.

…It is not a son. 

It comes to pass that this child - this daughter - will be the worst curse to ever befall the Ragnvindr line. Crepus. Dusk. What a weak name. What is dusk, but the seconds left in evening’s wake? Disgusting.

—

Attempts to contact what most would call his wife do not work. The contract spoke only of the production of one child in exchange for the pension, with no allowance for anything else. She made sure of that. He curses her. It does not change the weakness of the child.

She grows. Children are supposed to, as he has heard, speak within the first few years of their lives. Vespera does not have the time – as occupied as he is with more important things – to foster this, but that is what the staff of the manor are for. It’s what he pays them for, to take care of the unsavoury tasks that he has no business touching. Crepus speaks once, after Vespera returns from a business trip to another nation. She asks him for something. Not something worth remembering - and after he tells her to keep her mouth shut unless she is asked to, she does not speak again. 

There’s only that pathetic expression on her face that she has when she looks at him, like she’s expecting something of him. She is incapable of doing anything required of her. The times that she is not in Vespera’s direct company, she retreats to her room, or the library, or the mews - her and her damned birds - with a pencil in her hand, scribbling nonsense on scraps of paper. 

She often chooses to disobey his orders in favour of continuing to scribble somewhere dark, like a rat. No matter what, he cannot seem to beat it out of her. He does not beat her into speech, he does not beat her into obedience, and the expression she wears never changes. 

Pathetic. 

Not only that, the older she gets, the more sickly she is. She was born with a body that refused to sustain life. Not something that a child of the Ragnvindrs should ever produce - and yet, she cannot even hold a sword without trembling. For the time Vespera so carefully asks good Alopex to spare for her, she does nothing. She accomplishes nothing. 

The sessions end with tears in her eyes, or her body failing completely, collapsing to the ground, ruining her clothes or breaking her bones like she’s made of glass.

This, too, cannot be beaten out of her. All it accomplishes is more blemishes on her body which have to be hidden with more expensive clothes. A fate which she brought upon herself.

Vespera has never found something so loathsome before in his life. 

If there was no name to uphold, if there was not a legacy to retain, then he would rid himself of this burden for good, and begin again with another woman who would give him something worth wasting his time on.

For now, that is not a choice. So he will have to make do. 

—

Several years pass in isolation, in a city that belongs to him, with no one except the staff who serve him as company and the other hateful people who wish to take from his own success for company. 

Crepus does not count. He spends as much time as possible away from her, but ensures that he has her under his watch as much as possible, too. Mornings and evenings. Breakfast and dinner, when she is permitted to eat. When she is not, she must attend all the same, because that is propriety.

She is a dull child, and there is no one else in this city worth lavishing time on.

Except one.

For the comfort the Grandmaster lends him in his troubles, life becomes more pleasant, the longer he spends with him. He understands the difficulty of children that won’t listen, children that won’t take shape the way you show them so carefully to. 

Unlike that woman, there is a light in his eyes – Call me Alopex, he said, the first time that Vespera saw it – that is returned. 

He finds that, of all people, he is the most tolerable. And soon enough, it becomes more than that. When Vespera cannot find him for the work that buries him at the manor, Alopex will visit him, instead. It is a less dull place with a soul that burns in the same way as his own.

—

The Ragnvindr mania. 

I inherited it from my father, and you will inherit it from me. We have always felt emotions keenly. We have always been ambitious. Driven. The mania is a manifestation of that excess. You will use it. If you do not use it, as you seem to be able to do with so little, you will keep it quiet, and you will keep it hidden, or I will make sure that you have no way of disobeying that. 

Of course, the day comes, eventually, when Crepus falls to her first bout of it. Vespera has always kept himself well-controlled. Vespera learned, young, that there is no cost that cannot be paid to maintain a reputation. 

Crepus clearly does not understand this. He comes back to the manor from a visit to the Headquarters, accompanied by his dear partner, to the servants floundering, and to the sound of screaming, somewhere deep within the rooms. A child’s screaming. 

When he finds her, she is curled up in the midst of several maids, hands dug into her scalp, bloodied, tearing her throat for the screaming.

The maids are useless. The girl will not stop screaming.

For once, Vespera does not have to ensure that she does - because, this time, Alopex does, for him.

The lock clicks behind them as they walk out and Alopex pockets the key with a smile to his partner. She won’t interrupt us. Don’t worry.