tartaglia and teucer

Archiving my NSFM works. You need to be my twitter follower and have an account on poipiku to view.

#ZhongChiWeek2021Act2 Day 2: Monster

nicebonescomrade:

moment of truth (1)

The foul legacy piece as promised :D i had to make it into two parts though djskeneoej

Summary: Foul Legacy had meant to hunt the imposter wearing the All-Creator’s face. Neither he nor you expect him to do what he does.

Warnings: blood and death are mentioned, reader is not having a good time.

It has been chasing you for an hour now.

A looming figure, flashes of dark armour and the shining stars, low growls and hissed threats, its steps silent and quieter than possible for a being its size.

It has been chasing you for an hour now, all in the name of an All-Creator you do not know about. It is the same All-Creator everyone has shunned you for, naming you as a liar and thief and a sinner for your supposed crime. From Mondstadt to Liyue to Inazuma, you’ve received nothing but scorn and hateful words, cruel hands with crueler intentions reaching for your neck to offer you— helpless, innocent you— as a lamb brought to slaughter.

You could not go to the other nations, whose lands and plains and mountains you were unfamiliar with, thus you found yourself once more in Liyue, trekking through the abandoned Mingyun Village.

You had thought it would be safe— at least, safe enough for you to spend one night there, just enough for you to get your bearings back and make a plan, but—

You had not expected for the 11th Harbinger to show up, awaiting and ever so ready to spill your blood. The Polar Star you had so eagerly got him for him months before already in hand, as ready as its owner to hurtyou.

Perhaps he thought it would be better, perhaps he thought it would be easier, but eventually, Childe turned to Foul Legacy and has been after you for an hour now, ever so often telling you of how big of a mistake you’ve made.

This is my face! You longed to scream until your throat was raw, until your voice was hoarse and everyone heard you loud and clear and understood that this is your real face, that you are no liar and no thief and no sinner. This is myface!

“For how long do you plan to hide?” Foul Legacy’s voice rings through the torn down cottages and old trees, and you are barely able to swallow down the cry bubbling in your chest. Fear coats your throat like ash, bitter and cold.

I don’t want to die.

“Do you truly believe I’ll let you live after this? After your disrespect?” He is getting closer, and there is nowhere left to run— nowhere he can’t reach you, that is. “Death is what you deserve, little thief. Stealing the All-Creator’s face… I never thought that day would come, ha! But you… you really didn’t think this through, huh?”

I don’t want to die.

A slight rustle, the clicking of his claws, and then—

Ashriek is wrenched from your throat, your vision dotted black and your hands shaking as they reach for the arrow striking through your knee. He—!

I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to dieplease.

The blood that spills from you isn’t red, but it is nighttime and you can’t see, can’t hear, past the pain pulsing from your knee. Desperate pleas tumble from your mouth, tears leaving cold tracks on your face.

You don’t see it, but Foul Legacy does.

You scramble back when he reaches for you, or try to at least. His hands are the ones shaking but you don’t notice, and when he does finally clasp those claws around your arms you can’t even bring yourself to beg anymore. Tears, tears, tears, that’s all you’ve known since you got here and it’s how you will die as well, resented until the very end.

Something in you, tender and still hopeful, cracks at that.

You are sobbing like a child, chest heaving and shoulders shaking. You don’t even realize that he’s not attacking you, that he’s only holding you so close to him and trying his best to comfort you. The words he says, frantic yet gentle, can’t get through the panic clouding your head like cotton.

But the rumbling beneath your frame does manage to get your attention.

His body is vibrating, holding you in his lap. He so often nudges your flushed, wet cheeks with his face, the strangest noise noise you’ve heard coming from him.

Is he… purring?

He is.

He is also trying to comfort you of all things, the purrs tapering off into him stumbling over his words as he apologizes and tell you you are safe with him, he won’t hurt you, he’s so, sosorry.

You are confused— of course you are!— and you really don’t believe him, not when everyone and he had been all too happy to chase and hurt you, to try and kill you, but you don’t dare speak.

You don't— you can’t trust him. Not yet. Not him or— or the Tsaritsa he says will protect you.