Anaxa and Aglaea in modern AU as professor and seamstress respectively. - "Fabric is my language, Professor." A hint of amusement touched her lips. "The way you probably read... what, Old English manuscripts?" "Middle English, primarily." He found himself leaning forward, his usual speed-dating discomfort forgotten. "Chaucer, the Pearl Poet. Though I confess, the accuracy required in your work is similar to textual analysis. Every stitch must be careful." Aglaea's expression shifted, something like recognition passing across her face. "Every word in a medieval text must be too, I imagine. One misplaced thread ruins the entire garment. One mistranslation ruins the meaning."

" 𝐘𝐨, 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥! 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥?? " He who lost everything he once called his. Not even his body was his to name any longer. Now roaming others' homes in search of serving justice, or perhaps a final destination to be. Amongst sparking wires and the burning aftertaste of gasoline, he saw salvation. One that reduced him to a mess pulling out roses instead of bullets. " 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮. " A straight-to-point mechanic who made herself onto the IPC bounty list one day, said to collaborate with galaxy rangers quite often. Her relationship with the space cowboy is not considered abiding the boundaries of normalcy. Although no one knows her exact background that hails from one of the vast fallen planets victim to the IPC, she shares the same smoldering flames of hate towards the organization as her obnoxious "client." Metal can always be bent and reformed with ease, unlike flesh and bones that must twist and tear in order to shift.

What does it mean to consume? Is it to satiate a passing hunger? To ease the pain of starvation? Or to have a feast? Whichever it may be, THEY gave you this power, and as such, it is only fitting to follow THEIR will. EAT AND HAVE YOUR FILL, DO NOT LET HUNGER DRIVE YOU, CONSUME AND DEVOUR EVERTHING, LEAVE NOTHING BEHIND- Who are we to dare defy THEIR will?

❝ 𝙸 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄, 𝙸'𝙼 𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈 ❞ ╰┈➤𝙸𝙽 𝚆𝙷𝙸𝙲𝙷 memory can be a curse, same way flowers can. 07/02/25 - 07/10/25

Jiaoze-Mozeqiu LOTS OF TW : (no spoils so pls go to the "info" chapter) War was another kind of horror: a gruesome, bloody and unfair feast, where only the luckiest or maybe the most deranged were crowned of golden bay leaf. What a prize. Bloodied hands, cheered names, and the foreign feeling of having once humanity. Even if he left his past behind, more by necessity than real choice, he would never stand with such unfairness. He knew both sides, they were his past, his present and his future. He had been familiar with the comforting presence of the Abundance, the safety of life itself, and the nightmarish tremor of rotting alive. Then, he will live surrounded by the constant satisfaction of victory, knowing that he will be part of those who rule the law of the strongest, and the constant memories of the SINS committed for the better great of your nation. Even if it was his destiny -if there is such thing as destiny-, he remained a child of Merciful Medicus After all Old habits die hard. Moze never felt like he belonged in the Yoaqing, but neither in the sect. He was too different, ripped of his childhood but also way too rootted into traditions to behave. He coudn't even hope for slavation, his soul was as putrid as the rotting corpses at his feets. He couldn't even understand where all those strong feeling toward the healer came from ? Jiaoqiu never wronged him, and yet, he felt as if he wanted to stad himself in the stomac everytime he saw him smile. May Sanctus Medicus have pity on him. cover by me