Am I Thinking About Making This A Twisted Wonderland Chat-fic/smau Dedicated Blog? Maybe.

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption Chapter #4

TW: Depiction of painkilling herbs being eaten- aka one loopy-as-hell cat.

Realizations - Narinder

Narinder is not a poet. Not a writer, or a master of words.

So it is no surprise that Lamb's confession stunned him into silence.

"And I wanted you to care so much, but you didn't."

How is he supposed to care if he didn't fucking know? That's not fair of them to hold that against him. It's not fair for them to act like some heartbroken beau that he led on, and then tossed aside.

And then they had the audacity to leave before he could even find a way to respond.

He supposes a part of him is relieved they're not kneeling in front of him anymore while he's trying to sort through his thoughts.

They cared about him. What does that even mean? In the context of a god and a follower?

He thinks he knows exactly what Lamb means, but he'll be damned if he just assumes...

He tries to look back and pinpoint the moments that could give him some kind of hint, or insight into what they mean. Moments that he somehow missed the first time around.

But looking back, all of his memories feel hazy.

Like a terrible, violent fever dream of being so angry, in pain, waiting... Then the betrayal. Every time they try and think back on moments with the Lamb they are greeted by that moment.

When they refused to give the Red Crown back, and instead chose to raise their blade to him.

And every time he is reminded of that moment, he is filled with this cold, dead weight in his chest that he wants to call rage but he knows it's something different.

Hurt.

And hurt made him angry.

Why did it hurt so much? Because he let himself become fond of the wretched beast, he tells himself. He grew attached, even though he knew exactly how things were meant to end.

But they didn't end that way, did they? And now here he is. Alone.

Looking down at his bandages, he can still feel the cooling, refreshing sensation of the medical salve, easing the soreness of his wounds. It didn't help at all with the cramping in his muscles, or aching in his bones, causing the horrible shaking throughout his limbs.

But a feeling that trumps the cramping, or the cooling of the medicine are the traces... The traces of Lamb's touch linger all over his body. His arms, around his ankles, his back and torso. Everywhere he tries to focus his attention he feels them.

Such light, careful care, embedded all over him deeper than the injuries left by his chains.

It had made him forget how angry he was, and say things he shouldn't have... Feel things he shouldn't have.

Things like that horrible fondness, that make him want to hear Lamb's laughter again. That makes him want to hold them in his hand, and hope that they're bold enough to duck under his veil again so he can see them better...

They were so close to him, and when they pulled away, he grabbed them. Not wanting to lose the feeling. The momentary peace that being so close to someone after so long brings. Even if that person is them. The one who...

Who makes him so hurt and so angry every time he thinks about them. About what they did, or what they're doing now. Being so kind, and so damn sincere that he wants to believe them, but he can't.

He can't trust them, he or be fond of them, and he certainly can't care about them, because they took everything from him. His power. His divinity. His dignity.

The only thing they left him with is his life, and he's still 50/50 on whether that's worse.

His torso has yet to be bandaged. The lamb left so quickly, that he can only assume they are going to get this 'Miki' person to do the stitches and finish wrapping him up.

He doubts it will be the last time he sees Lamb while he's... 'Unwell' like this. So he needs to figure out what to say when they do come face to face again.

Does he need to say something? Does he want to say something? Should he confront them about the unfairness of this situation? Or just let it go and pretend it never happened?

Narinder has already come to terms with the fact that he's stuck accepting their help and afterward being stuck as a mere follower- he'll be damned before he has to do any pathetic chores or menial tasks though.

Now, though... He's conflicted. He had planned to ignore Lamb after he was healed and didn't need their assistance anymore... But he wants answers. He wants to know what Lamb means when they say they care, and why their admission confuses him so much.

Makes him want to clarify things.

Tell them that he might not have... Cared in the same way he thinks they mean, but that he had... Preferred them to... Past vessels?

Fates, he feels like a fool.

If he wasn't in so much pain, he'd throw himself back onto the bed and bury his head under the pillows to try and block out all these thoughts and feelings.

"Um... Hello? Narinder, sir? May I come in?"

He's still leaning over the bed, glaring daggers at the empty ground where Lamb had been when the clear-toned voice interrupts his inner conflict.

"Come in." He sighs, and the fennec fox's head pops through the curtains, looking around before stepping inside.

The light from outside has turned a deep orange and pinkish tone. The sun is setting.

She's holding a small wooden box of well-organized metal tools and supplies, and she strides up to him, holding her silence, and focused gaze as kneels behind him, and examines his back.

Narinder wants to whirl around and hiss at her to back the fuck up, but he doesn't have the physical energy or pain tolerance to do so.

"I'm guessing you're Miki?" He sighs, giving up on doing anything but sitting down and just dealing with whatever he's handed.

"Yes. I take care of most medical-related issues around camp. The Lamb was right, these do need stitches, a lot. I imagine it's just as bad in the front. Are these scars anything to worry about?" She points at the two identical scars running just below his pecs, and he shakes his head.

"No. I've had those since before all this. Top surgery scars, I don't think any of you followers know what that is..." He sighs, and she shrugs.

"We have top surgery, it's just not as... Safe. As it could be. I'm working on making it safer. We can talk more about it later because I do have questions regarding where your surgery was done and by whom, but for now..." She pauses to meet his gaze and holds up the curved needle in her hand.

"This is going to take a while so settle in and lay down on your stomach. I can offer you some herbs to numb the pain, but they'll make you very tired, and kind of loopy. It's up to you if you want them though." She steps back to give him space to move.

Lamb clearly didn't tell her that he can't move very well without help, and he isn't about to admit it.

So he settles for trying to force his body to move through the pain.

His back is the worst of it, digging a deep growl out of his throat as he tries to twist himself around, onto the bed on his stomach, without moving the blanket off of him and giving the poor follower an eyeful.

"Do you need assistance? I understand that you can't move very well, but I wanted to see it for myself to analyze. Can you describe the kind of pain you are experiencing?" Ah, so she does know.

"It's a cramping. So bad that I can't stop shaking, or get my limbs to do what I want. My back and legs are the worst." He explains as she places a slightly too firm grasp on his shoulders and mildly manhandles him to lay on his back.

Giving her a full view of his injuries.

"Hmm. I have dealt with a few similar cases in people who haven't moved for long periods, usually only a few months, but years... Well, I'll tell you now, it's not an easy fix. Do you want the herbs? They won't take effect immediately, but it will make everything less painful, stitches and cramping. They'll also probably put you to sleep for the rest of the night." She talks slightly faster and far more monotone than he expected for someone who follows Lamb.

Something about the lack of emotion in her voice creates a professional air in the whole shelter. An air that makes him feel far safer than he's felt in his entire time being here.

"I'll take them. How do I get rid of the cramping?" He asks as he hears her shuffling around the supplies.

She moves around and he turns his head to look at her as she holds out a small leaf-bound bundle, he swallows it quickly as the bitter taste nearly makes him gag.

"I don't want you to push yourself too much because of your outward injuries, but the only real way to help regain your strength and control over your limbs is to exercise and stretch them. Water therapy would be best, but submerging your stitches isn't an option." She explains, her hands poking and prodding at his back, pulling painfully at some of the deeper wounds.

Far less gentle than Lamb had been.

"Watch it." He hisses, in pain, and then lets his curiosity win. "And what's water therapy?"

"Swimming, essentially. A gentler alternative to normal physical therapy. Either way, you'll need someone to oversee it, myself ideally, but I can train the Lamb to aid you instead if you are not comfortable with my presence." He only hums in response.

His body doesn't hurt as much, and as she said, he's becoming drowsy. His eyelids are heavy, and the shaking in his arms is subsided. He hardly even feels the sharp piercing as it follows a horizontal path around his waist.

He's half asleep when it stops and moves up around his left shoulder blade. Then right. Then the same monotone voice asks him to turn over so she can 'evaluate the damage'.

He would think that the newfound lack of agony coursing through his bones would make it much easier. Instead, the fatigue pulls him down and makes his whole body turn to dead weight. She's talking again, and he peeks his eyes open but quickly decides that whatever it is, isn't as important as sleep.

So he closes them again.

~~~

"You've done well vessel. Soon enough, my chains will be broken, thanks to your ruthless efficiency." He's staring at them, as they sit in his hand, only a few inches from his face.

They're awfully silent this visit. Usually, they break into a ramble about the crusade they had just died during, or the way things around the cult are going. And Narinder would listen. Their voice is soothing. Easing the burning tension in his body the moment they arrive, and look up at him with that radiant smile, so overjoyed to see him again.

~~~

He opens his eyes when there are small hands- the fennec fox's hands trying to lift him to roll him over. He can't recall her name... Miku? Mimi? Something like that. She curses under her breath.

He tries to aid her in her weak attempts, even though his mind is hazy. But he must have done something right because now he's on his back, and the piercing is on his stomach now so he closes his eyes again.

 ~~~

He likes this one. This vessel. A small, innocent-looking Lamb, with all the fire and maliciousness of a thousand suns, scorching all who stand against them. Yet when they stand before him, they are soft-spoken. They laugh a lot, usually at something he does or says.

He doesn't know what's so funny, but the sound is like music, so he doesn't question it.

Others, like Ratau, were weak, but not just that, they were so... Boring. They didn't speak much, didn't respond well, and only ever bowed to him before being sent back to the overworld. 

~~~

When he opens his eyes again it's to the sound of Lamb's voice.

"Narinder, I'm just gonna help hold you up while Miki wraps the bandage around you- oof! Okay- this, uh, this works. I guess." Their laughter is nervous, hesitant, and not the carefree one he would much rather grace his ears.

He is leaning forward, his head resting against them. They don't smell like blood, or death like he expects now that they are the God of Death. No, they smell like they always have. Like wildflowers, and fresh air after rain.

They're warm, and he bunts his head against the side of their face, before burying it into their neck, shutting his eyes again.

~~~

"What troubles you, my vessel? You have not spoken, by now Aym and Baal are ready to kick you out themselves." He chuckles, as he looks down at the mentioned twins, who side-eye glance at each other and shrug in agreement to the statement.

His dear Lamb looks up with startled eyes, and he can't help but chuckle. They must not have realized how obvious they were being...

"Nothing! Really it's nothing, well, not nothing, nothing, just... I want to tell you something, but it's hard to... Word. And I don't think that right now is the best time..." They ramble now.

Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything...

~~~

He opens his eyes this time because Lamb laughs again. A good laugh at something the small fox said. Soft, but sincere, and he can feel it reverberate through their chest. He wraps his arms up and around them to pull him closer and they become stiff as a board.

He doesn't care though, as his hands rest at their waist, and a deep rumbling is sounding from somewhere... Is it coming from him? Is he purring? He hasn't purred in a long time, and it's hard to recognize the sound.

He shoves his face into his Lamb's soft wool as he closes his eyes for what's hopefully the final time...

~~~

"Silence, Lamb, you need not speak of it if you wish not to. I only wish to know, so that I might ease the worries off of your face. I much prefer your smile." He raises his other hand to lift his Lamb's chin carefully with the tip of his clawed pointer finger.

They smile as they meet his eyes, but it is still nervous, and unsure. They glance away from him, their eyes darting around the afterlife, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I... Appreciate that, but I think I'll save what's on my mind for later. How about after I've gotten you out of these chains? Deal?"  They now look a bit more energetic, as they jump up, and duck down, and before he has time to process it...

There they are. Underneath his veil, peering up into his blood-soaked eyes. Smiling, without a care in the world, as if what they've just done isn't enough to get them massacred by any other God in their right mind.

They lean against his nose, and he is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that they smell like wildflowers and fresh air after rain. Such a refreshing... Lively scent. As if they aren't working for the God of Death, but rather frolicking fields with a God of Life.

They rest their arms on his snout and blink up at him, tilting their head ever so slightly in curiosity when he remains still in stunned silence.

They then laugh when he laughs, and he wants them to stay right there for as long as it might take for him to grow sick of their presence. But he's not sure when that might be. A century or two? Maybe three if they don't run out of things to talk about too quickly.

But alas. There are still Bishops to defeat, a cult to maintain, and chains to be broken.

Perhaps before he has them kneel to sacrifice themselves to him, he can ask them what it is they had planned on saying.

"Deal."

~~~

He wakes one final time when he's being carefully laid back onto the mattress and a soft voice is mumbling. His Lamb's voice.

Something about changing the bed sheets in the morning, and the current ones being bloodied.

"Lamb..." His voice is so quiet, it's a miracle he can even hear himself.

He has a tight hold on their fleece.

"Yes, Narinder?" Their voice is wobbly, and he tries to force his eyes open.

He wants to see them, but he's so tired.

"You planned to confess... After I was freed... How could I not see that you..." How could he not realize that they loved him?

Was he so oblivious? He could have read their mind at any time, but he didn't... He could have seen their feelings. He could have also seen their betrayal coming, but somehow, this is less important than their feelings.

"I... You're all loopy, Nari, go to sleep, and I'll bring you breakfast in the morning." They pry his hand off of their fleece, and he lets them, with a soft hum.

"Nari? I like that..." Nari. His siblings used to call him that when he was still very small, but stopped when he got older.

When he got the Red Crown.

"Hm. I'll call you it more often than if you promise not to try and kill me when you're less high." They stand up and pull one of the blankets up over him, and then they're walking away.

No. Stay.

Please stay.

His brain screams, but his mouth can't keep up, and the fog in his mind is so heavy and his limbs are so heavy and his heart is so heavy, and everything is just so damn heavy...

His heavy thoughts fill with thoughts of Lamb. His Lamb. Who smells like wildflowers and fresh air after rain. His Lamb. Who he was once so fond of, but now can't bring himself to feel such fondness without it reside beside pain. And anger. And distrust.

And they are in pain, angry, and distrustful too.

So how do either of them fix it?

~~~

When he wakes up he is alone, and his head is still hazy, and his body is in agony.

Stiff, and sore, his torso is immovable, a dull throbbing making him groan in pain. His arms and legs hurt just the same but aren't as bad as they were.

Maybe he's just too focused on his torso to care about the tremors as they start racking his arms again. Or, maybe it's the haunting realization of his own drug-induced actions last night that really keeps him frozen in his place, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling.

He didn't know he could be so... Touchy. When tired. But the smell of them is still swirling around in his mind, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else he did.

He doesn't remember all of it, not clearly anyway, from having been in and out of consciousness. But he remembers the moment Lamb arrived. When they laughed. When he leaned forward onto them. When he shoved his head into the wool on their neck. When he started purring so deeply he could feel it vibrating his whole body...

The room is cleared of all medical supplies, and the nightstand is cleaned off.

He's not exactly sure what time it is, or how long he's been asleep, but he knows, from the light slowly brightening around the edges of the window and doorway curtains that it's close to morning.

And that Lamb promised to bring him breakfast. So he needs to get his thoughts in order quickly.

He still needs to confront Lamb about their sudden admission to him. Then about that day... That distinct memory replaying in his mind helped him connect the dots even in his herb-induced state.

Lamb had wanted to confess to him after they freed him, and he...

Guilt is still a foreign emotion to him. He used to feel it in small amounts when he was a child and would get into spats with Leshy, or Heket and say something he didn't mean.

The worst time was during a thunderstorm that he had gotten caught in on his way back to the temple. He doesn't remember where he was returning from or when the first strike of thunder sent him running out of his own damn skin, but he does remember hiding.

Hiding, terrified in the small hollow of an old tree trunk. The mud soaking around his feet, and the bottom of his robe. When Shamura found him he was so afraid he hadn't wanted to get out from under the trunk, and when his older sibling reached in to grab him, he'd just... Lashed out.

His claws hooked on Shamura's forearm damn good, and he knew he drew blood when they tried to pull away and his claws yanked out of the skin it was caught on.

He felt the wave of guilt hit him harder than the fear and strike as quickly as the lightning of the storm around him.

And no matter how many times he apologized, or how many times Shamura tried to assure him it was alright, he was haunted by the feeling.

The guilt. That made his heart sink like lead in water every time he saw the paper-thin scars on Shamura's arm.

But all those times happened long ago before he was even given the Red Crown. Since then, this degree of guilt has snuck up on him twice. Both because of Lamb.

When he had snapped at them the other and they rushed out of the room on the verge of tears, and then now.

Feeling this overwhelming guilt because of this horrible realization that the entire time he had been waiting for the day they would sacrifice their life to him...

They were waiting to tell him that they were in love with him.

He wonders how they felt in that moment. The second he asked them to kneel, did they feel the same sinking dread in their chest that he felt when they chose not to?

Did they feel the same horrible dread when they marched to their death earlier that year, standing before his kin as they prepared to kill the final lamb?

If so then it truly confirms the thought that's been plaguing him for the last hour.

He's no better than them. Hell, he might be worse. At least they didn't trick any of the lambs they were slaughtering into trusting them. Or become selectively blind when said lamb fell in love with them.

Speaking of the new God of Death...

The moment that they knock on his door and step through the curtain with a soft, sad smile, and a warm breakfast in their hands he realizes something that makes all of his other realizations that much more horrid...

He never would have asked them to kneel, if he had known they loved him.

Maybe I even would have...

"Morning, Nari. I brought another mixed meal, everything is bland and seasonless, but there's a bit more variety. I'm also going to get started on those upgrades for your shelter. Nothing perfect, but function for now." They sit on the bed next to him, and he's glad to find that he can sit up a little easier on his own, without as much pain as before.

At least in his arms. His torso is irritated and sore as shit. Lamb moves to grip his arm and help him, and he bites his own tongue to stop from purring at the touch.

The herbs clearly haven't worn off completely just yet...

Looking them in the eye there are a million things he wants to say but what comes out isn't exactly what he's expecting.

"I'm sorry."

A simple two words as Lamb sits beside him to help him eat, just like they've done the day before. They freeze in place, staring at him with widened eyes, and he stares back.

As stunned as he is, he's surprised to find that he doesn't regret the words.

He's not sure that his own anger has subsided. Hell, looking at them now, glancing at the Red Crown on their head that was once his... He can still feel the flickering flames of frustration, and the much stronger flame of humiliation and embarrassment.

But neither are as strong as they once were. The raging wildfire has died down, turning to something more... Tired.

He just wants all this pain to stop, and to be able to move freely again.

He wants to be free.

It's all he thinks he wants anymore. Before the desire for freedom lived closely beside his desperation for revenge.

To destroy the other Bishops. His family. Make them pay for locking him up in the first place.

At some point... Maybe after the thousand-year mark, or maybe two thousand years, freedom became his main priority.

Revenge became an... Added bonus.

And now? It's all he's been thinking about- thoughts of Lamb not counting.

Wanting so desperately for the pain to subside so that he can once again see the world outside of this shelter.

And all the anger still buried inside is just a footnote in comparison to that desire.

So when he looks into the Lamb's eyes and sees their confusion, he doesn't have it in him to take the words back or snap at them.

He can't forgive them, at least not now. Perhaps not ever. But he knows he's tired of being mad. Tired of lashing out every time they reach out to help, and then feeling guilty an instant later.

And he is Sorry.

Sorry that he didn't know. Sorry that he never gave them a chance to tell him. Sorry, that...

In the end, he really wasn't any better than his siblings. Maybe he still isn't. He's not sure anymore.

What he is sure of, is that even if he's still angry, they have a right to be angry too, and yet...

They're helping him anyway. Caring for his wounds, feeding him, helping him move, and upgrading his shelter so he doesn't have to leave if he doesn't want to, and can just spend the rest of his immortal life locked indoors...

And all he's doing is complaining, snapping at them, and making them cry.

Even his shitty siblings, if they were here, would agree that that's not fair.

"You're... Sorry?" They repeat, head tilting, unsure, and stiff as a board.

"Yeah." He wants to lean forward towards them again but resists, grabbing the blankets below him just to keep himself anchored in place.

"I'm still angry at you. So... So angry. I hate that you spared me. I hate how pathetic, weak, and humiliated I feel. I hate that you're the one that's made me feel this way... But I... I recognize that you're angry too and that what I did was not... I shouldn't have... Fuck, I don't know..." He sighs, lifting a hand to drag down his face, and pausing to think of his next words carefully.

At this point he's glaring down at his remaining hand as his claws dig into the blanket, refusing to look back up at Lamb.

"I don't know that I regret what I did, but I regret that I hurt you when I did it. I regret that I didn't know because if I did... I'm not sure things would have played out the way they did. But we can't change that now, so I'm sorry. Sorry, that I was, and that I have been, ignorant." He finishes his botched apology.

It's not elegant. Not exactly what he wants to say either, but it will have to do, because now his head hurts.

He just wants them to respond already, but glancing up, the deep frown and contemplating look on their face tells him their gonna need a minute.

A long. Long minute.

"You're wrong..." They breathe, the words a whisper in the silent room.

His eyes dart to theirs, but they carefully avoid his questioning gaze.

"Do you remember much of last night? When you were talking to me before I left?" They ask, setting the bowl on the bed beside them, and bringing their hands into their lap, twiddling their thumbs.

I remember I didn't want you to leave...

"I remembered the day you ducked under my veil. The action distracted me from the conversation, but I remembered it last night. That day... You were planning to tell me that you... Cared." He doesn't dare say the real word. Not out loud. "Weren't you?"

"I was. I had this silly idea that... That after you were freed, I would confess, and you would accept, and I would show you the camp and everything I've built for... For you. And that maybe we could... I don't know. It's stupid, thinking about it now." They stand up and move around the bed towards the window.

Still avoiding his eyes, as they follow their movements with far too much interest.

Lifting a hand, with a single finger he cracks open the curtain just slightly, letting the morning light peek inside, as they look out.

"But then... Everything happened... You were right when you called me weak. When you were defeated, and I had the choice to spare or kill you, I was weak. I couldn't bring myself to do it, because a part of me still hoped that if I spared you, you would..." They let out a shaky sigh, and finally turn to look at him.

A pleading look in their eyes, begging him to understand so they wouldn't have to say it out loud.

"Oh." A dim response. But what the hell else could he say?

"Yeah. Oh." They give a dry laugh, and move back, sitting on the edge of the bed, before sliding down onto the floor.

They rest their hands over their eyes.

"But you're wrong about me being angry at you. I'm angry at myself, and every time I look at you I'm just... Miserable. Sad that nothing happened the way I wanted it to, and now here we are. You're wounded and in pain, and I'm so conflicted and confused about this." They motion up to the Red Crown.

"I mean, I'm a god now. I never planned on that! I've been leading this cult with the expectation that you'd take over once I freed you, but instead, I'm going to be their leader for who knows how long! And I can't even get half of them to stop wanting to eat their own shit!" Their voice rises the more they rant, and he snorts at the last part.

"Yeah, well, followers aren't as smart as they used to be. Back when The Old Faith was at its best, Shamura had a strong school system in place, and Kallamar was an expert in medicine and hygiene, sharing his knowledge with his most devout so that they could spread the word of what is and isn't good for you. Such as eating shit." He comments, a small smile gracing his face.

"But that was... A long time ago. Since my imprisonment, the Bishop's wounds, and the genocide of the lambs, everything has deteriorated. Now those who remain are just trying to survive. No shepherd to guide them." Another realization, he notes as he speaks.

"You are the only god remaining now, Lamb. The only one that can create so much as a semblance of society, so that they no longer have to struggle. So that they can actually enjoy life before their bodies wither, and they have to surrender their souls to you. The new God of Death." He sits up and tosses his mildly aching legs over the side of the bed.

Moving as slow as he can for his torso's sake, and relying solely on what little arm strength he has, and a bit on gravity, he pushes himself down onto the floor. Next to Lamb. The blanket is dragged down with him.

"Well, that really makes me feel better." They grumble, looking at him and his tail involuntarily brushes against their arm, an attempt at comfort.

"I'm not trying to make you feel better-" Liar. "Just telling the truth."

"... I've been leading them long enough to know what I need to do, I just don't know how. Some of my more valued followers like Noon, and Miki are trying to help, but neither of them knows much about the divine aspect of it, like shepherding souls, maintaining the afterlife, etc..." They lift a hand up, grabbing the crown of their head and bringing it down in front of them to examine.

"I do." He blurts, not fully thinking about how much it sounds like an offer.

They too jump, head darting to look at him.

"You'll help me?" They ask, disbelief heavy in their voice.

"Maybe. If your cult doesn't fall apart before I can breathe without pain, then maybe- and that's a very strong maybe. I'll consider giving you some pointers on how to be a proper God of Death. A way to earn your forgiveness, since I doubt my words mean much to you." He subconsciously moves his tail again, brushing it along the side of their face.

When he sees it, he quickly grabs the offending part and pins it to the ground. He's grateful when Lamb chooses not to mention it, only glancing at the now pinned tail with a soft giggle.

A giggle that makes his fur stand on end in a fluttering feeling he can't even begin to identify.

Embarrassment. That's what he's going to call it. Embarrassment.

"They do mean something, Narinder... I know it took a lot for you to say them, so thank you, for apologizing..." Their smile drops, and they turn their gaze away.

"But?" He can feel it coming from a mile away.

"But I think it's going to take a lot more to fix things than an apology. I'm still not even confident that when you get better you won't just try to attack me and get the crown back then..." They're right to be paranoid about that.

He's thought about it. A lot.

Is still kind of thinking about it.

"Right. Well, I don't plan on doing that right now, we'll see about later though." He can't help but smirk at the small glare they send his way.

"I guess I can live with that. And for the record, I'm sorry too. Not for choosing not to die, but that you feel weak and humiliated because of me. But you should know, Narinder, that you are not pathetic. You're strong, and I beat you by a hair, and now, here you are, dealing with a pain that no normal mortal alive could tolerate... You're..." They pause, meeting his eyes for a long moment.

There's something there. Something akin to adoration- much like the kind they used to wear on their face when they looked up at him when he was a god.

It makes his fur stand on end again in embarrassment.

Embarrassment that's all it is.

He has to break eye contact, turning to look at the window, and flinching when light hits his eyes. The small opening Lamb made earlier still bleeding light into the room.

They notice his flinch.

"Oh, right, your eyes. Sorry." They stand up, quickly, moving a single step forward to close the curtain properly.

"It's fine." He hadn't even realized how close they'd been. It was just so natural. Being so close to them...

It felt strangely right.

Now though, with the distance between them, the spell is broken. Even they seem to realize it.

"Right well, I do have a lot to do today so... Why don't I switch your bedsheets, get you back in bed, get you fed, and then work on those shelter upgrades, hmm?" There is a newfound pep in their step.

And in a second they're bouncing across the room with an energy that does not match the conversation they've been having for the last half-an-hour.

A mask. One that they put on so easily it's almost frightening.

But he doesn't complain. He's gone through enough emotions to last him a week, and right now, he just wants to eat and go back to sleep.

Of course, Lamb isn't going to make it that easy.

"Sooo, about last night, was it the herbs that made you all cuddly or am I just that adorable?" They look back at him with a teasing smile that could light up the darkest of nights.

"Shut the fuck up-!!"

~~~

Fun fact: Miki is based on one of my favorite followers from my first-ever game, a game that my little cousin ended up deleting when I let him play on my Switch. That's the real betrayal here. I still haven't forgiven that 11-year-old punk.

I'm thinking about making an 'introduction to the featured and background OC's post.' What do y'all think?

The 12 Days of Twisted Wonderland - Prologue

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Prompt: While talking with your fellow freshies about their plans for winter break, you get a bit homesick and tell them about some of the Christmas traditions of your world. So, they decided to look for a way to make NRC feel a little more like home to you before they all leave for winter break!

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and reader is called 'MC/Prefect.' MC is also directly implied to NOT be religious but still celebrates Christmas because... Lots of people who aren't religious do (me). Christmas is just awesome guys. And if you are religious then just ignore that part.

Included Characters: The Freshmen (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, & Sebek), + Grim!

Warnings: Mild Swearing.

~~~

The chill in the air is nice. Not freezing cold just yet, the first snow of the season has yet to arrive, but with Halloween officially over, the rapidly growing chill in the air is a sign that winter is just around the corner.

Normally, there is a budding excitement inside your chest, almost instinctual, every time the weather starts to get colder. Looking forward to the holiday season. Friends, family, traditions, gift-giving, festive food, lights, colors...

Christmas.

In your world, it's a holiday based on a religion. A religion that doesn't exist in Twisted Wonderland (or at least not at NRC), hence, no one really knows any of the traditions surrounding it.

There is a ton of decorating for the winter season, though, that makes the whole place look like a Christmas Hallmark movie.

Maybe decorating things with lights, ornaments, colorful tassels and tinsel, pine branches, and holly is just a... Universal winter impulse- No matter what world you're in.

If you didn't know any better you'd think Christians just made up their religion to justify their decorating impulse every winter.

That said, growing up, you learned very early on, that just because the Christians made the holiday, didn't mean you had to be religious to celebrate it.

And you celebrated it every year back in your world.

But now... You'll be alone during winter break. Well, you'll have Grim to keep you company, and whatever chores Crowley forces your way to keep you occupied...

So instead of holiday spirit or Christmas gifts, you get seasonal depression this year... Great.

While everyone around you is buzzing happily, excited to get to go home soon. Gee, if only you could do that. (A dry sarcastic comment that you scoffed at Crowley yesterday and he simply coughed awkwardly and shuffled off to do absolutely nothing useful. Like usual.)

You try not to let it show on your face though, you don't want to be that guy dragging everyone's mood down after all.

Which works, for the most part. Until-

"Jeez, MC, what's up with ya today? You've been all sad-faced like a kicked pup' since we sat down." Epel is the first to notice.

You, and your freshmen friends (though Sebek might argue about the 'friends' part) all sat together to eat lunch outside, wearing a few extra layers to protect from the occasional cold breeze, but other than that it's quite nice out.

Clear sky, autumn leaves scattered on the ground, just chilly enough that if you breathe out real hard you can see your breath a bit.

Everything was just on the cusp of being a bit too cold, but not quite there yet.

Winter is right around the corner. Winter break is right around the corner.

"Oh, uh, just a little tired that's all." You quickly cover with a light laugh, looking at the others whose eyes are now on you and trying to remember what the conversation was.

"Huh? But you went to bed early last night!" Grim talks between bites of his sandwich, bread crumbs stuck in the fur on his chin that you grab a napkin from your bag and reach to wipe it off.

"Don't talk while you eat, you'll choke." You scold him, and he bats your hand away with a grumble of protest.

He hates it when you baby him like a parent with their toddler.

But if he hates it so much, maybe he should stop acting like a toddler so much, and you'd stop acting like his parent.

"Well, if it's not sleep, what is it MC? Is it winter break? Is Crowley gonna stick ya with chores like last time?" Epel cringes and Ace scoffs.

"What does that lousy headmage even do around here besides show up and push his work on everyone else?" Ace asks, leaning back resting his chin in his palm, elbow propped on the wooden picnic table.

"Well, he intrudes on our classes a lot." Jack's ears flick in irritation- one of the few students who doesn't appreciate Dire Crowley's interruptions that lead to him taking over the class to teach the easiest of nonsense that they all already know.

While there actual professors seeth in the corner. Professor Crewel actually saw him coming in once, and before the headmage could say a word, launched an empty glass beaker at him to keep him out.

You have never respected Crewel more.

Even if he made you clean up the mess.

"Say, you went to a school like NRC in your world, right, MC? What did you do on winter break back there?" Deuce asks, and that catches everyone's interest.

"Oh, right, with no magic your world is very different from ours, MC, what kind of classes do you even have in school there?" Ortho asks from next to you, and you smile.

"Well, more just general education, science, math, history, that kind of thing, and then in a college like this you take specialized classes for whatever career you planning on going into- and without magic, there are a lot more careers that humans have to do than here in the Twisted Wonderland." You explain.

"Hmph, your world sounds terribly inefficient if it has to rely on humans taking years to educate themselves to do jobs that would take magic and fae only moments." Sebek scoffs, arms crossed.

He's wearing his normal uniform, not a single extra layer, and when you offered him a spare scarf he yelled something about humans being so much 'weaker to temperature than fae', but even now, you can a slight shiver run through him every time a particularly cold wind blows through.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, well, we have a lot of nice things even without magic to help us get them. During winter break everyone got to go home to their families just like they do here, and a lot of them would celebrate the holidays..." You mumble solemnly.

"Holidays? What kind of holidays do ya have over there?" Epel asks, and something about the way he says that- 'over there' makes you snort a laugh.

Like you're just from a different country and not a whole different world.

"Lots. With so many countries, religions, and cultures- there are a lot of holidays year-round depending on who you are, your family, and where you live, yada yada... This time of year though, my family, and most of the world, starts getting ready to celebrate Christmas." You tell them, picking at your food that you haven't eaten much of yet.

"Christmas? What's that?" Ortho asks, and Deuce actually brightens.

"You told me about it! At Rook's birthday a few days ago! Something about exchanging gifts?" He asks to which Ace perks up.

"A holiday about giving gifts? Now that I can get behind!" Ace smiles, leaning forward expectantly.

"Well- yeah- you give gifts, but it's about more than that. It's about family, friends, and traditions... Every year, at the start of December, we'd go out and get a pine tree and we'd decorate it with colorful lights and ornaments, and the star on top! Never forget the star on top-" You start ranting about your Christmas traditions at home, a rush of familiar excitement bubbling up in your voice.

"And we'd spend all of the winter break having fun, ice skating, making snowmen & snow angels, sleigh rides, though nothing really beats decorating the house and tree, it's what sets the mood for the whole holiday, and the music! Oh, Cater, Lilia, and Kalim would loooove the Christmas music, it's so pop-y and cheesy, talking about the same stuff- a lot of romantic songs since Christmas is considered to be a really romantic season-" You list some things and they all look at you confused but you keep going.

"Wait, do you decorate the house or the tree?" Deuce asks.

"You cut down a living tree and bring it inside? That's incredibly unhealthy for the environment, not to mention unsanitary!" Sebek shouts, and you roll your eyes.

"In my world there a pine tree farms that grow small pine trees just for Christmas time- to keep anyone from cutting down wild ones. And there are tree skirts that catch the falling pine needles to keep things clean." You explain with a chuckle.

"Farms dedicated to pine trees? That sounds so strange. Sure, apples and other fruits, but just regular old pines?" Epel ponders, and Ace and Deuce nod along.

"What other traditions are there?" Grim ducks under your arm, settling down in your lap in a way that reminds you far too much of children sitting on Santa's lap asking for presents.

"Well, every Christmas, some people from my neighborhood would gather around and sing carols- which are Christmas songs sung by a group of people like a choir- in exchange for hot chocolate, I always loved having hot chocolate. Oh, and the ugly Christmas sweaters, I loved ranking them in my head on who had the worst, one year I saw a girl with a tacky bright blue one with hand-stitched reindeer and glitter glue- god it was awful but so funny." You pause, half tempted to grab some paper from your bag and draw it to show them.

"You know, we have hot chocolate here, right?" Jack raises a brown with a slightly amused smirk and you roll your eyes.

"And ugly sweaters, though not necessarily 'Christmas' themed." Ortho adds and that makes you laugh.

"Housewarden Vil would hate a tradition based around wearing something intentionally ugly. Can ya imagin' the look on his face?" Epel chuckles to himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Would you all stop interrupting! I wanna hear more, what about food? Is there any good food for Christmas?" Grim asks, looking up at you with sparkles in his eyes, that he only ever really gets when thinking about food.

"Ha! Leave it to you to be focused all on your stomach, Grim!" Ace teases, and you laugh, but continue anyway.

"Well, the baking was my favorite- at least to eat. Sugar cookies, peanut butter blossoms, thumbprint cookies, no-bakes, gingerbread, pudding pies. Traditionally, lots of people would make houses out of gingerbread cookies. And on Christmas day, the 25th of December, families would have a big feast, with ham, turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, and candied yams. That was after you opened all the presents though-"

"Wait, so this is all leading up to a Christmas day? That's when you get the presents?" Ace asks, and you smile and nod.

"Yep, so when you're a little kid, there's this fun fairytale about a guy named 'Santa Claus' who every year, on Christmas Eve, rides out on his sleigh, pulled by reindeer, and delivers gifts underneath people's Christmas trees for well-behaved children. When you get older, and obviously find out he's not real, it's still tradition to put the gifts you get under the tree and wait to open them until Christmas day." You pause for a moment thinking before reiterating.

"Though that depends on some things. Friends for example like to be there when you open the gift they give so they can see if you like it, so sometimes they give you your gifts to open early, which is fine too! The point is, Christmas is the season of giving. Showing people how much you care for them by getting them thoughtful gifts and spending time with each other." You smile looking up at the sky.

It's getting a bit cloudy. As is your mood.

"It's also considered to be a really romantic holiday. Where couples would chose to propose to each other as a Christmas gift, or little lovebirds would confess their feelings. My friends liked the whole mistletoe tradition- getting caught under a sprig of mistletoe with someone and having to kiss whoever's under it with you- it could end up really cute, or funny, or even downright awkward." You chuckle.

The memory of two of your old friends getting caught under one, and while one made funny smoochy faces, the other was pushing them away making a barfing sound surfacing in your mind.

You wonder how they're doing...

"That sounds like a terrible tradition! Being forced to kiss someone just cuz you got stuck under a dumb plant?" Grim cringes and you snort.

"It's not manditory, nor does it have to be on the lips or anything. I got caught under it once with a friend and we re-enacted a scene from a book were the knight dropped to his knees and kissed the princess's hand." You sighed fondly at the memory.

"So it's just a cute, non-serious tradition? I bet it'd make an awesome prank for people who take it seriously though." Ace smirks, a look in his eye that means he's definitley gonna drag you into one of his backfired messes later.

"Whatever you're planning, you better leave me out of it, Ace. I don't need to get in trouble with Riddle cuz you went and used my worlds traditions to prank people." You give him a waring look and he just smiles, and gives a playful wink.

"Hey! I'm not planning anything!" He scoffs in mock offence, but you sharpen your glare.

"You better not be."

"Say, what kind of gifts do you give on Christmas? Do they gotta be Christmas-y themed like everything else?" Epel asks, and pivots the conversation back to the holiday.

You spend the rest of lunch describing more Christmas traditions to them, ones your own family had, ones others had, and even some ways other countries celebrated.

Stockings above the fireplace filled with chocolates and small toys and trinkets, Santa Claus and his elves in the north pole-

That lead to Ace making a short joke to Epel while they were walking back to class, which got his ankles swiped from under him, landing on his ass in the hallway you all burst into laughter- outside of Sebek who made a loud shout about 'making a scene in the middle of the hall being unbefitting.'

His shout drew the attention of a passing Lilia and Cater who joined you all on your walk and Ace and Grim started ranting to them about everything you'd just told them about Christmas.

You watch silently as the two upperclassmen listen, just as intrigued as your fellow freshmen had been...

Twisted Wonderland isn't the worst world to have gotten stuck in. The friends you've made here. They make the idea of going home a really hard one to think about.

But all this talk about the holidays, and the upcoming loneliness as eveyone gets ready to leave campus- leaving you all alone... It's bringing your gloomy mood back in full force.

"You really do miss it, don't ya?" Epel interupts your thoughts and you look to see him staring at you as you walk side by side.

"... I do. The holidays here in Twisted Wonderland, and how there celebrated at NRC have been some of the most fun I've ever had in my life... But Christmas was really special to me. And it was a time for family and friends, so spending it alone is... hard." You sigh, suddenly feeling very tired, despite going to bed early like Grim oh-so-helpfully pointed out earlier.

"You know, maybe you could come stay with one of us for winter break? My meemaw wouldn't mind having a guest." Epel offers, and you smile at the kindness.

"Nah, I don't wanna intrude, plus Crowley's chores aren't that bad- I get them done pretty quickly, and then I have plenty of free time to fix up Ramshackle more."

"You know, I'm pretty sure that should be Crowley's job- you already do plenty of his chores to make up for your food and living expenses. You shouldn't have to fix Ramshackle up to." Jack, who's walking on the other side of you, points out.

"Yeah, but argueing with him ain't exactly easy... I'm think of talking to Professor Crewel about some things though, since he seems more... Reasonable then Crowley does." Speaking of Professor Crewel, you reach his class room, and the upperclassmen split up, heading towards their own class.

Ace and Deuce head inside and you pause to look at Epel and Jack one last time.

"Thank you guys for the concern though, I appreciate it, really." And you turn away.

Missing the thoughtful glance your two friends share.

~~~

"So! I think we all know why we're here today!" Epel smacks his hand on the desk in the empty classroom dramatically.

"Uh- not really, but go on." Ace raises a brow, feet proped on the desk he's sitting at, attempting to balance a pencil on his nose.

"We're here because of MC! Duh!" He shouts.

"Huh? What about 'em? They're fine." Ace shrugs, and Jack rolls his eyes from next to him, swiping the pencil away.

"They are far from 'fine' Ace! Didn't you see how homesick they got when talking about Christmas!? Or how sad they've look the last few days since!?" Epel crosses his arms, tapping his foot- before stopping quickly- the mannerism something far to similar to what Vil would do when scolding him.

"That's true! I've scanned them every time we meet up, and their vital always show lower than average levels of serotonin and dopamine! I've been meaning to ask them privately if they're okay, but I have yet to get the chance." Ortho informs, pulling up a screen from his arm to show the history of the last several times he's scanned the Prefect.

"Oh, well, they have been kinda down lately, haven't they?" Deuce brings a hand to his chin in thought, and Grim- who's standing on a desk in front of Deuce- scoffs.

"Down? They've been downright depressed is what they've been! So lost in thought and stuff, they burned dinner last night staring off into space all mopy and stuff!" The little dire beast pouts.

"They miss their home- or at least their friends and family. This is the time of year, that during Christmas, they would spend with them. And they can't do that now. They'll just be all alone on campus once we all leave. That's a pretty depressing thought." Jack rubs the back of his head, ears slightly drooping at the idea of not being able to see his own family during such a special holiday.

"Hey! They won't be alone! They'll have me!" Grim shouts indignatly.

"By the seven, that's even worse..." Ace shivers at the idea of being stuck alone with Grim for a whole two weeks.

"Hey! What the heck is that suppose to mean!?" Grim growls, and Ace rolls his eyes.

"That's enough! This ain't about you two! MC is our friend! They've done so much for us, and all of NRC! They don't deserve to feel so alone, stuck doing Crowley's dirty work when they should be enjoying time with their family! At there home!" Epel scolds, and Ace and Grim look away bashfully.

"Yeah, you're right, but... What are we supposed to do? It's not like we can send them home or anything. And there's not much good in trying to talk Crowley into being helpful- we already try that regularly." Ace runs a hand through his hair a troubled look on his face.

He's thought about this plenty of time. Talked about it with his dormmates too, and his fellow freshmen, but when it comes to helping the prefect, the don't really accept help easily, nor is there much they can do either.

Freshmen are kinda at the bottom of the food chain here at NRC, even the stronger ones like them, so there influence and ability to help is very limited.

"Obviously we can't, but me and Jack had an idea! So we called you all here- plus Sebek, but he's busy with Malleus stuff or whatever- so we'll fill him in later." Epel explains and meets Jack's eye- a determined nod from him and he announces the plan.

"We're gonna bring Christmas to NRC!"

...

"Huh!?"

The ripple of shock around the room is broken first by Ace.

"Whadda mean 'Bring Christmas to NRC!?' How the hell are we supposed to do that?" He shouts.

"Simple really! I made a checklist of all the things MC was talking about when describing Christmas, and we're gonna do them! Here, take a look!" He places the list in front of them.

1. Get a Christmas tree! (Pine prefered)

2. Decorate Tree & Ramshackle - Colorful lights, ornaments, and tinsil! (Reds, greens, whites, silver, gold, & blue colors! Reindeer, snowmen, snowflakes, mistletoe & holly and more are important designs!) DON'T FORGET THE STAR ON TOP THE TREE (Star - real? Maybe? Further information needed).

3. Bake them lots of cookies! (peanut butter blossoms, no-bakes, pudding pies, thumbprints, gingerbread, sugar cookies shaped like reindeer, candy canes, snowmen, etc.)

4. Throw a Christmas feast before leaving for winter break! (Ham, turkey, candied yams, mash potatoes and gravy, other sides)

5. Get them gifts! One from each of us! - REQUIRED!!

6. Wrap them in colorful wrapping paper!

7. Hide them until the 25th!

8. Sneak them under the tree before MC wakes up! (The Ramshackle Ghosts can help, and maybe Grim)

9. Happy MC when we all come back from break!!

10. Get the Housewardens in on it? - BIG MAYBE

11. DEAL WITH CROWLEY!!!

"Well, this is pretty thought out, I'll admit, but I'm not sure how... Acheivable it is." Ortho sighs.

"Especially the last goal." Ace adds.

"Oh, don't go giving up now! When MC's doing nice things for us, or getting us out of trouble- they never give up! I know that I'm going to do everything I can to cheer MC up and make sure they have a good Christmas, even if they can't have their family with them! Are you gonna help or not?" Epel nods resolute.

"Well, when you put it like that, there's no way I can bail out now, I'd be a total jerk to." Ace smirks, sitting back down.

"Agreed. MC always helps us out when we need it, and even when we don't they're always there for us. It's only fair that we return the favor for once!" Deuce smacks a fist into his palm, with a thoughtful look on his face that turns determined.

"The Prefect of Ramshackle has helped Nii-san a lot, and is always wonderful company! Seeing them so sad lately has been worrying. If this plan will make them feel better, then I will gladly help!" Ortho gets that look in his eyes like his just been issued a challenge in a game.

"Good. Now, this is all gonna be hard to accomplish, but it's gonna be even more difficult to do under there nose! So we need help. I'm thinking since the housewardens all owe MC a lot- they might help us do this for them." Epel mentions, picking up the list.

"Well, I know Trey can help us with baking, and Riddle might help find a way to deal with Crowley." Ace says, and Deuce nods in agreement.

"I can text them to meet us in the library later to talk about it." Deuce pulls out his phone.

"Hm, I don't thing Leona or Ruggie would be very interested in helping or going out of their way for anyone, even the Prefect, but I can mention it to them anyway." Jack hums

"I think if I yeild and promise to add a few more steps to my skincare routine, then Vil might help, Rook will help no problem... We might be able to ask Azul for help with food for the feast." Epel ponders.

"Azul? Hell, nah! And be in debt to him for the rest of our school lives for a measly ham and turkey? I'd rather try cooking it myself then that." Ace groans, and both Deuce and Grim shiver in terror.

The memory of the first time they were in Azul's debt still an open wound in their minds.

"Turn you and Grim loose in a kitchen? No offense, but I think I'll take my chance with the Leech twins." Jack huffs, shaking his head.

"I find Jade Leech and Floyd Leech of Octavinelle to be very fun and kind to me! I'm sure they will help the Prefect!" Ortho says optimistically, and everyone lets out an 'eeehhh'.

"What? You don't believe they would?" He looks around at them, and Ace snaps his fingers.

"I believe that you would be the best person to ask and find out! They're both pretty fond of you, so there's a higher chance they'll agree if you ask." He announces and Ortho nods.

"Alright! I will head to Mostro Lounge first thing after school tomorrow!"

"And we'll see about cookies and talking to Riddle." Deuce adds.

"I'll see about finding some decorations, Mr. S might have some stuff we can use. Maybe I can get Leona to help pay for some of it. He is kinda soft on MC, even if he won't admit it." Jack smiles.

"And I'll talk to Sebek, he'll be in charge of getting a good pine tree- and then me and Grim will talk to the ghosts in Ramshackle to make sure they'll help us hide our gifts for them and leave them under the tree on Christmas Eve!"

And like that, the plan is formed.

Now, it's time to put it into action.

Christmas at NRC!

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption Chapter #2

(((TW: TW: Uh... I don't think there's anything worth putting a warning on?? Let me know in the comments if there is, and I'll update this.)))

Guilt - Narinder

Perhaps it was naive of him to think he could tolerate the pain.

Turning over onto his back is a motion that now that he's done, he thought he knew what to expect. But instead, the pain is just as piercing as before.

Still, he's able to push through it.

The idea of using his arms to push himself up, however?

He's tried twice now, and each time, his arms have cramped up, shaking violently as he falls back into place. His wrists are the worst, and he doesn't need to open his eyes to know there's scaring marring the fur around them.

He's sure it looks as awful as it feels.

No. Perhaps it feels worse. He can get over what it looks like, but this pain... He's not sure when it's going to stop. If it ever will.

What he is sure of is that he isn't letting it beat him. He tolerated the pain of his chains and being trapped in place for long enough. He will no longer let the phantoms of his torment hold him down.

Even if it means suffering with every movement he makes.

And damn, does he suffer.

He tries to use his legs, to push himself up and take some weight off his arms, but much to his dismay, his legs are in no better condition. Still, he persists.

His whole body is shaking by the time he shoves himself back up against the wall, in some semblance of a sitting position. He is damn near breathless and wants nothing more than to go back to sleep again and deal with his hunger later.

But he's worked too hard to give up now. Opening his eyes, it is dark in the room, the only light coming from the window to his right. It's just enough sunlight to make his eyes water, so he turns his head to the left.

The mixed meal is on the nightstand just next to the bed, and easily within arm's reach. He takes a long moment to relax before attempting to grab the food.

He's dizzy from his efforts.

He should try to organize his thoughts, but the task seems even more impossible than moving.

He was chained for centuries. Found a Lamb to kill the Bishops- his siblings, and free him. The Lamb kills the Bishops. The Lamb proceeds not tofree him but defeats him instead and steals his crown. They spare his life rather than kill him. Then force him to join their cult as a mere follower.

There is... A lot to unpack there.

Thinking about it all still brings forth an overwhelming surge of emotions that he's still not ready to face.

But what other option does he have? When he was chained, all he could do was boil and fester with rage. Plotting his vengeance, waiting.

Waiting.

Always. Fucking. Waiting.

For something to change. For a loyal vessel to appear. He got his vessel, but the loyal part...

He takes a sharp breath, straightening himself out more, and tragically finding that by resting, he's allowed the pain time to worsen.

Still, he pushes through, because as painful as it is, thinking about the Lamb is even worse than their piercing cramping along his spine. Twice as confusing too.

He takes the risk to grab the bowl and just narrowly misses knocking the bowl onto the ground with his shaking. He does spill some of it when he moves it into his lap, but it's the last of his concerns.

With the food right in front of him, he's suddenly contemplating how to eat. Just chew and swallow right? But how much does he have to chew? Does it need to be completely mush? That would be gross, but will he choke otherwise?

What will it taste like? He has only a vague memory of what fish tastes like, but he can't recall what other kinds of meat or beetroots taste like... He settles for starting with the fish steak, the most familiar of the foods, and ignores the uncomfortable dryness of his mouth in hopes the food will help.

It does not. The explosion of taste is nothing like he remembers. He can feel every speck of seasoning burning his tongue and a wave of nausea overtakes him. Chokes it out, spitting it back into the bowl, but the dryness of his mouth causes chunks to get stuck on his tongue and inside his cheeks.

He gags and coughs trying to get it all out of his mouth.

And like a lightning strike, because as he now knows the universe hates him, there is banging on the dresser.

"Narinder! I'm here to start working on your shelter upgrades! I also brought- Narinder!? Are you okay!?" The sentence is cut off when the Lamb realizes something is wrong.

"F-ack! I'm-" He tries to respond but is still choking on the taste of the food.

"Okay! I'm respecting your privacy by knocking but asserting my authority as your cult leader by coming in anyway!" And like that the dresser was shoved aside, teetering for a moment before falling over onto the ground with a loud crash.

The Lamb was by his side in an instant.

"Whoa, whoa! Take it easy, uh, wait here, I'll grab some water!" They bound away, leaving him with tears stinging the corners of his eyes, and hacking like he has a hairball in his throat.

It doesn't take them long though, and they're back beside him with a wooden cup of water trying to hand it to him. He makes a feeble attempt to grab it but his arms cramp up when he tries to close his fists around it, and they jerk back toward him.

He can feel splashes of water as they fall onto his lap and the Lamb catches the cup before it falls and spills completely.

"Careful, Narinder... Are you- never mind, dumb question, you're not okay. Here, let me see." They hesitate only a moment before reangling the cup and bringing it up to his mouth for him.

He's not in the condition or mood to argue, and just leans forward and accepts the water. It's only slightly cool, borderline room temperature, but it tastes holy. He uses the first swig to swirl around his mouth and get rid of as much dryness as he can before swallowing and then chugs the rest.

"Slow down, you'll choke! Again!" The lamb pulls away, and Narinder follows, ignoring the spike of pain it causes.

He needs more. He knew he was thirsty, but this... He feels like he could drink dry a whole lake.

"Please..." He begs, and a part of him wants to hiss and recoil away from the word, but another part just wants more water.

A part of him wants to scream, and claw at the Lamb, and wrestle his crown off their head, but another part just wants to cry and beg for help. For water, and food, and for them, hell anyone, to take the pain away.

The Lamb is silent before he caves, and brings the water back to him, and he returns to chugging it. He can feel trickles of water dripping out of his mouth and down his chin, but he doesn't care.

"I'll have to get more..." They murmur, and he thinks it's probably more to themselves than to him.

When the cup runs dry, he's left gasping for air, falling back against the wall, and flinching when it sends waves of aching through him.

"Feel better? Do you need more? Narinder, is this why you've stayed locked up in here? Why didn't you say anything!?" The Lamb waits a long moment before speaking, but when they do the questions come in waves.

"For ten... Seconds... Can you just... Shut. It." He openly glares at them as he gasps out the words- undermining their harshness.

They slam their mouth shut and chew at their bottom lip as they look at him. They clearly want to say more, but ultimately decide against it for the moment. Opting to instead busy themselves with grabbing the food still on his lap and setting it aside, and then going to pick the dresser up.

It doesn't take him long to catch his breath, and when he does, he's left watching the lamb as they start moving around the room, placing the dresser back into its rightful spot with ease. He only has a vague memory of having pushed the dresser in front of the door to begin with but he knows it wasn't- probably still isn't light.

How strong are they? How much of it is the crown's power? His power.

Not anymore.

"Yes. I want more water. And partially, yes, this is why I've stayed in here. That's all you're getting until I get more to drink." He sighs, turning his gaze away from the lamb, closing it just before it collides with a ray of sunlight rudely glaring through the window.

But the painful sunlight is better than the Lamb's wide-eyed gaze pinpointed on him as they contemplate what they said.

"I suppose I've already gotten my 'please' for the day?" They ask, and he snorts.

Almost laughs. Almost.

"Try for the month- year even." He sighs, and as much as he hates doing it, he relaxes.

The water had helped, and he does feel better. A lot better.

"Right, well... I'll be back... We need to talk, Narinder. About everything. Maybe not today, but eventually, and hiding in here isn't going to make that fact go away... So just... Think about it." 

And they're gone before he can give some hissed insult or aggressive remark.

He's tired, but his body has been sleeping for too long, and he's restless. Mentally, and physically. So he waits.

Again. Always waiting.

He's thankful he's not left with that thought for long as the Lamb returns just as it starts to form. The cup is full once more.

"Do you still-" Need my help?

"Yes." Narinder interrupts them before they can finish the sentence, as if not hearing the end of it will somehow nullify the effect it has on his pride to say yes.

The Lamb doesn't push the subject, and just mimics their earlier motion, aiding him in drinking the second cup. He takes it slower this time, letting himself enjoy how it soothes his throat and eases his nausea.

When they pull away again, he's more confident in his ability to meet their eye, and he's haunted by the venomous amount of sympathy he finds in them. Pity.

"So, do you want to explain why your arms are no longer working? Or do you want me to speed run some guesses and you can tell me when I hit the mark?" They offer a gentle smile and he hates it.

He hates how sincere it looks, and he wants to claw it off his face.

He settles for closing his eyes again.

"I've been chained for so long... I could tolerate the pain when I was a god, but now... This mortal body is weak, and suffering the phantom aches of my imprisonment." He confesses.

And everything hurts so bad.

His mind screams.

He flinches when he feels the bed shift, and his eyes shoot open to see the Lamb sitting down on the corner of the bed. They sit a... Safe distance away.

"I... Didn't realize... I knew you'd need to rest after the whole fight, but I guess centuries in chains, unmoving probably hasn't left you feeling great either..." They recap as if that's supposed to make it better.

"Obviously not. While I'm complaining, can you close the window better? Even as a god, my eyes were light-sensitive, hence the veil." He peeks an eye open to observe them as they stand and do what he asks.

"Oh, sure. I had a hunch that was the case, but I also kind of thought it was just for aesthetics... You looked pretty cool in it." They chuckle as they fix the window, and he opens his eyes as the harsh light is subdued.

"Of course I did." He scoffs but makes no further comment on it.

He never thought much about the veil. It was a necessity, to protect his eyes. Kallamar thought it was creepy. Leshy and Heket used to tease him, calling him edgy and that he should just 'deal with the pain'. Shamura was the only one to understand that god or not, the pain was intolerable.

They had even made him a rather nice spider web veil once- that he wore for special events as it was a bit too elegant for everyday occasions. He doesn't know where it is nowadays, most likely lost to time.

"Well, I can see if I can get something like it from Berith. For now, though, I think working on fixing your movement issue takes priority. I've never seen anything like it, so I'll have to ask around. Maybe Noon will know..." He's not sure who the hell Noon is, but that's less important.

"I don't need your-"

"I don't care. I was trying to respect your boundaries, Narinder; I thought 'he needs time to work through his thoughts right now.' and if I pushed you, I'd just make it worse, but this isn't about pushing. You're in pain, and you can't move. That's too big of a problem to just leave you alone to work it out by yourself!" They interrupt and hold out an empty palm, a silent question.

Every inch of him screams not to trust this. His fur raised, and pupils dilated- they probably have been since the moment the Lamb entered the room.

Yet, every other part of him is screaming in pain.

The real answer to the Lambs question is dependent on which instinct screams louder. Distrust or pain?

The pain, the pain, the pain, the pain.

He stretches out his arm. It's shaking less than before at least.

The Lamb is slow and cautious as they reach out and with a feather-light touch, cradling his arm in their hold.

Looking at it now himself, he realizes he was right about the scarring. The embedded chain-like scaring in his bare skin, fur marred and no longer growing there- like some kind of mange. There is still dried blood surrounding the scabbed wounds- deep from what he can feel and tell.

He doesn't doubt that if he moved his wrist around too much they would re-open and start bleeding profusely once again. The same with his ankles, and around his torso.

One glance down confirms it. It's not as bad around his torso, and the wounds are not as deep or as ugly. His fur being an oily, ungroomed wreck doesn't help make it look better though.

He's a mess. A disgusting, wounded mess. It's humiliating.

He can feel his ears pressed to the back of his head in shame as the lamb carefully runs their hand over the wound. He flinches when they run over a particularly deep scab, and they jump back, pulling the offending hand away.

"Sorry! I didn't... This should have been taken care of the moment you arrived, I'm sorry I didn't see to it." They close their eyes for a moment, and when they open them again, there is a fire in them that Narinder nearly flinches again at the sight of.

"Yeah, well... I didn't exactly tell anyone so what could you have done?" He gives a dry laugh, to settle his nerves, and starts to pull his arm back to himself.

"That's no excuse. I'm a leader, and my job's most important part is ensuring my followers are safe and well. I should have known you wouldn't be perfectly fine physically after the fight, I should have... I should have checked on you sooner, even if you clawed my throat out when I tried." They leaned forward to catch his arm gently, examining it once more.

They are silent again, and Narinder watches them carefully as they follow the scarring with their eyes. Up his forearms, upper arms, shoulder, chest, and neck.

All a mess. Like a mangled stray, he both looks and feels like he's gotten into a fistfight with a thorn bush.

And lost.

Eventually, their eyes meet, and the spell of... Whatever is happening, is broken.

He yanks his arm back with a painful hiss, leaning away from the Lamb's suddenly overwhelming amount of attention.

They hold their hands up as they stand, unbothered by the sudden aggression.

"Right. Well, I need to go get a lot of supplies, and then, unless you want me to get someone else to do it, we need to get you cleaned up. You're only going to get worse if we don't." They pause as they're walking away, and turn to him, waiting for his response.

"Like I want any of those mindless mortal morons anywhere near me..." He growls, sinking further into himself.

He's enraged by the Lamb's care and wants to rip them apart.

He's still hungry, but he'd rather die than put more food in his mouth after his first experience.

He's restless, and he wants to be able to move again.

And yet he's so fucking tired at the same time. He's tired of being angry, hungry, and restless. He's tired of fighting against chains they aren't even there anymore. He's tired of waiting.

Always waiting.

But the Lamb doesn't make him wait long.

They're bounding through the curtains- he notices that it's turned gloomy outside- with an armload of bandages, rags, and wooden jars of something.

"I have to run outside again, Theo's holding the water, but I figured you wouldn't want anyone coming in." They toss all of the supplies at the end of the bed, near his feet, and he peers at them, trying to figure out what the jars are.

He hardly notices they left again they're back so quickly, with a large wooden basin of water, that they sit on the ground next to the bed as they sit down next to them.

They sit closer this time, and he bites back a hiss as their leg brushes against his.

They pause when they see the clear cringe adorning his features.

"... I know this isn't the best-case scenario for you, but you have to know that I'm just trying to make things easier for you, so please, just let me help..." They sigh and lean away to give him space to adjust.

Easier for him?

How is their help meant to make anything easier? Even if they could snap their fingers and erase all the pain in his body, there is nothing they can do to rid him of... Of this.

This embarrassment and humiliation of needing the very person who put him in this position to help him out of it.

To put bandages on his wounds, a roof over his head, and act like everything is perfectly fine now.

Like he can just move on, and forgive and forget? Become another happy, brainless little follower in their cult, doing whatever they ask and worshipping the ground they walk on?

No. He can never do that. Not when he knows what the Lamb truly is.

Just a pathetic mortal made god via deceit and betrayal. The last of their kind, and a heretic no better than the ones they go about massacring on their crusades.

And this guilt, and pity that he sees in their eyes as they watch him think?

A confirmation. They're doing this to make themselves feel better. Not to help. But to ease their guilt, to try and absolve themselves of their crimes.

He hates them.

He does not doubt it, and no amount of their help will ever change that fact. None of their help will ever make this burning anger in his chest cool, or the venom lacing his tongue evaporate.

None of it will take away the heavy grief that presses on his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Grief that everything he did, everything that he had the Lamb do, was for nothing.

He's still trapped. This time with the very being meant to have freed him.

"I will let you help me. I will let you treat my wounds, bring me food, and upgrade my home all you want, but make no mistake, Lamb. I hate you. I will always hate you. No matter how desperately you try to prove yourself to me, I have nothing left in my heart but resentment, and anger when I see you. You, from this moment on, will be nothing but the bane of my fucking immortal existence." He hisses, with so much poison in his voice, he's sure even Heket would be impressed if she could hear him now.

He watches as the Lamb's eyes widen, and his face contorts with a mix of emotion. Confusion. Anger. Hurt.

He watches as they open and close their mouth, clearly too shocked to string a proper sentence together.

He watches as water begins to well in their eyes, tears prickling the corners.

He watches as they swiftly stand and move away towards the door and out of the shelter.

And in the end, his fists clench. The pain shooting through his arms is ignored as another, overwhelming emotion, that simply must be this mortal body's fault clouds his mind and weighs heavy on his shoulders, sinking him further into himself.

Guilt.

~~~

Brownie points to anyone who caught the Fairly Odd Parents joke.

Anyway, I feel like I should preface things for the next chapter by saying Narilamb is currently VERY one-sided. The Lamb has feelings for Narinder that you'll see in the future, but Narinder truly never picked up on them, and his anger and hate are very much the only things he feels toward the Lamb. FOR NOW. Eventually, he'll have some more existential crisis about it. But not now Kitten Whiskers, Daddy will discuss it later. (Ya'll better get that. If you don't, I can't help you.)

Hii so I read your snowmen and snow angels with Kalim fic and I’ve gotta say….

That was the most beautiful piece of literature I’ve read this month. Like the plot, the writing, the details were chefs kiss you need more followers ASAP like you wrote for Kalim so well and that fanfic was so good

Any who I just wanted to tell you that the fic was good and to keep it up because your writings amazing-

Thank you so much!! I'm so glad you liked it! Kalim is one of the characters I'm more confident writing for so I'm so glad you think I did a good job! I'm working on the next prompt for Rook now, which is a bit harder cuz I've never written for him before- but we'll see how it goes!

I really appreciate this, it really made my day! Hell, it's made my week, so thank you again!!

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption - Chapter #2 Preview

(Thoughts and opinions are welcome - be nice!)

Guilt - Narinder

Perhaps it was naive of him to think he could tolerate the pain.

Turning over onto his back is a motion that now that he's done, he thought he knew what to expect. But instead, the pain is just as piercing as before.

Still, he's able to push through it.

The idea of using his arms to push himself up, however?

He's tried twice now, and each time, his arms have cramped up, shaking violently as he falls back into place. His wrists are the worst, and he doesn't need to open his eyes to know there's scaring marring the fur around them.

He's sure it looks as awful as it feels.

No. Perhaps it feels worse. He can get over what it looks like, but this pain... He's not sure when it's going to stop. If it ever will.

What he is sure of is that he isn't letting it beat him. He tolerated the pain of his chains and being trapped in place for long enough. He will no longer let the phantoms of his torment hold him down.

Even if it means suffering with every movement he makes.

And damn, does he suffer.

He tries to use his legs, to push himself up and take some weight off his arms, but much to his dismay, his legs are in no better condition. Still, he persists.

His whole body is shaking by the time he shoves himself back up against the wall, in some semblance of a sitting position. He is damn near breathless and wants nothing more than to go back to sleep again and deal with his hunger later.

But he's worked too hard to give up now. Opening his eyes, it is dark in the room, the only light coming from the window to his right. It's just enough sunlight to make his eyes water, so he turns his head to the left.

The mixed meal is on the nightstand just next to the bed, and easily within arm's reach. He takes a long moment to relax before attempting to grab the food.

He's dizzy from his efforts.

He should try to organize his thoughts, but the task seems even more impossible than moving.

He was chained for centuries. Found a Lamb to kill the Bishops- his siblings, and free him. The Lamb kills the Bishops. The Lamb proceeds not tofree him but defeats him instead and steals his crown. They spare his life rather than kill him. Then force him to join their cult as a mere follower.

There is... A lot to unpack there.

Thinking about it all still brings forth an overwhelming surge of emotions that he's still not ready to face.

But what other option does he have? When he was chained, all he could do was boil and fester with rage. Plotting his vengeance, waiting.

Waiting.

Always. Fucking. Waiting.

~~~

Enjoy this preview of chapter #2, it will be out tomorrow on Ao3 at noon, and on Tumblr around 8:30. (I even set an alarm so I won't forget this time!)

A Christmas Miracle

Let it be known, that I adored twisted wonderland a long while ago when I was just a dumb highschooler, and now as a college student I've gotten back into it, and I have never been (nor will i ever be) as lucky as I am right now.

The 12 Days of Twisted Wonderland!

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Prompt: While talking with your fellow freshies about their plans for winter break, you get a bit homesick and tell them about some of the Christmas traditions of your world. So, they decided to look for a way to make NRC feel a little more like home to you before they all leave for winter break! It just so happens that a particular student with a crush on the Prefect learns of this and decides to do something special for them themselves.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and reader is called 'MC/Prefect.'

Included Characters: Voted for by you all, as I write!

Warnings: Will be labeled per fic

Read the Prompts and First Character Vote Below!

The Prompts!: 

Day 1; Ice Skating

Day 2; Snowmen & Snow Angels

Day 3; Sleigh Ride

Day 4; Christmas Tree

Day 5; Christmas Music/Caroling

Day 6; Hot Chocolate

Day 7; Ugly Christmas Sweaters

Day 8; Christmas Cookies

Day 9; Decorating

Day 10; Gingerbread House

Day 11; Mistletoe

Day 12; Secret Santa

~~~

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption: Chapter #4 Preview

(Thoughts & opinions are welcome as always! Be nice, and enjoy.)

Realizations - Narinder

Narinder is not a poet. Not a writer, or a master of words.

So it is no surprise that Lamb's confession stunned him into silence.

"And I wanted you to care so much, but you didn't."

How is he supposed to care if he didn't fucking know? That's not fair of them to hold that against him. It's not fair for them to act like some heartbroken beau that he led on, and then tossed aside.

And then they had the audacity to leave before he could even find a way to respond.

He supposes a part of him is relieved they're not kneeling in front of him anymore while he's trying to sort through his thoughts.

They cared about him. What does that even mean? In the context of a god and a follower?

He thinks he knows exactly what Lamb means, but he'll be damned if he just assumes...

He tries to look back and pinpoint the moments that could give him some kind of hint, or insight into what they mean. Moments that he somehow missed the first time around.

But looking back, all of his memories feel hazy.

Like a terrible, violent fever dream of being so angry, in pain, waiting... Then the betrayal. Every time they try and think back on moments with the Lamb they are greeted by that moment.

When they refused to give the Red Crown back, and instead chose to raise their blade to him.

And every time he is reminded of that moment, he is filled with this cold, dead weight in his chest that he wants to call rage but he knows it's something different.

Hurt.

And hurt made him angry.

Why did it hurt so much? Because he let himself become fond of the wretched beast, he tells himself. He grew attached, even though he knew exactly how things were meant to end.

But they didn't end that way, did they? And now here he is. Alone.

Looking down at his bandages, he can still feel the cooling, refreshing sensation of the medical salve, easing the soreness of his wounds. It didn't help at all with the cramping in his muscles, or aching in his bones, causing the horrible shaking throughout his limbs.

But a feeling that trumps the cramping, or the cooling of the medicine are the traces... The traces of Lamb's touch linger all over his body. His arms, around his ankles, his back and torso. Everywhere he tries to focus his attention he feels them.

Such light, careful care, embedded all over him deeper than the injuries left by his chains.

It had made him forget how angry he was, and say things he shouldn't have... Feel things he shouldn't have.

~~~

Well, guys, this chapter is going to be a doozy. I've decided to attempt to speed things up a slight bit, so there are some cute moments that I hope y'all will enjoy.

The full chapter will be posted tomorrow at 4:00 pm on Ao3 and at 8:30 pm to 9:00 pm, here on Tumblr.

The Yellow Cat's Name??

I've seen a few different writers and fanart makers call the yellow cat by different names: Theron, Theo, Thistle, Joon, Lemmy, etc. I was thinking about using Theo or Joon, or maybe something original with this cool Cotl name generator I found?

Idk, what do you guys think? Any names you guys like better? Any you hate? Yada yada. Opinions and suggestions are wanted homies, and I'll see ya when I post tomorrow.

So, I've posted the first chapter of Wingmen, a Maxley fanfic. I have no idea when the next chapter will be done, but I'm working on it now, so when I have a date, I'll let y'all know. Feedback, comments, and questions are welcome.