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| pairing : sukuna x gn!reader | warnings : angst, graphic descriptions of scaring and a painful death | form : oneshot, word dump, whatever this is | word count : 1.9k | originally posted : december 23rd 2020 | gwyn's note : i like to call this a "creative though cryptic" piece. it's more so a group of loose and simple ideas that I pieced together in an attempt to make something more poetically succinct, I have no idea if it worked but any and all feedback comments an critiques are very much appreciated.
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Once upon a time, a king stumbled upon what remained of his long lost lover. The smell of smoke clouded the air, filling the lungs of the corpses as the fire ravaged them until all that was left was ash. Yet even as the inferno drew ever near you made no move to leave your work, not even the presence of a hell onto himself could make The Archivist move from their desk. Should they look up, they'd be met with the sight of the cliff, the doors opening onto the seaside view of the lord's house. Though the sky was red with smoke and the air stank of rotting flesh scorched meat and salt.
"I know you're there you know, you aren't exactly being subtle," you said, reaching for another jar of ink as your brush ran dry. The journal before you wasn't much in terms of a relic, but it needed to be transcribed before it was too late. There really wasn't much of a point in it either, it just like you would be reduced to ash within the hour.
The sound of your words was met with nothing but a cruel laugh, the snarl that followed one that should have struck fear into your heart. It should have impaled your senses in one swift strike as the stake was driven into the witch's heart, rendering her last struggle futile. But it didn't, and it only angered the demon. "Why aren't you afraid?" The question was more of a demand really, one from the curse that stood in the door to the archives.
