Nymphs are nowhere near as cruel as the Oracle fables them to be.
Outside, she's explaining to children no younger than ten that the nymphs are blood-thirsty monsters that care for little to nothing else than the trees that shelter their home and, occasionally, the mutts that they allow to feed on their lands in exchange for protection (Mutts that the Oracle claims to be viciously abused by their deal makers, that is). She says that the nymphs are greedy and twisted, that they'll do anything to get what they want with the cost of a life at the palm of their hands, if that's just what it takes. They're cruel, cruel enough to rip humans from their homes and offer them to Algeroth without remorse as sacrifices no one can seem to wrap their heads around.
The Oracle plunges into explicit detail about the topic. Her tongue spews just what it is the nymphs subject their victims to, often using the most recent, Kagamine Rin, as an example. She says that one stole Rin away from her daily duties, attacked her, left her bloody and bruised, and brainwashed her into forgetting. (That wasn't the case, and the Oracle knows it; but her lies feed the town. Rin's words mean nothing to anybody. She's claimed to be brainwashed, after all. Who would bother to believe a brainwashed peasant?)
As Rin stares out the window of her home, hands soaked in suds and her thumb slicing itself on a loose shard of porcelain, she thinks that no one around here knows anything. No one knows anything about Algeroth or the Leering Wood or even nymphs, for that matter. No one knows anything about her, or the Oracle, the holy embodiment of a mystery all in its own, or the were* or the vampires or the elves. Ignorance is bliss, she supposes, which means her home is full of happy, oblivious morons.
Frowning, she withdraws her bleeding finger from the water, muttering expletives under her breath that her mother would scold her vehemently for had she returned from the marketplace on time today. Rin wipes the droplets of scarlet off on her light green tunic and narrows her eyes back out the window. The Oracle is still out there, reciting the same lecture she's been giving since the beginning of this week. She hasn't moved from that spot since noontime, and although Rin isn't quite certain what time it is now, she's certain it's been hours. It's starting to make her think that the Oracle is out there just to ridicule her.
Rin finishes cleaning what's left of the dishes, sparing occasional glances back out the glass panel in front of her. She can vaguely hear the Oracle's voice filtering through the surface. Again and again, the only thing that slips into her head is: That isn't what happened.
And it's not. Rin remembers everything clearly, knows that he was too kind to have brainwashed her into another memory.
There's only one person to talk to about such a thing- about him -and Rin, albeit with slight reluctance, pulls on her boots, grabs her staff, and leaves a note to let her sisters and brother know that she'll be with the Alchemist in spite of having the day off. He knows the nymphs better than anyone; he's the only intelligent person left in this world, it feels like (Next to herself, Rin thinks).
She closes the door fiercely behind her and sprints across the cobblestone path to the outskirts of town. When she passes the Oracle, she doesn't bother suppressing a distasteful sneer of contempt.
.
"You look like you could use a cup of tea," is the first thing he says when Rin arrives, panting, on his doorstep. He eyes her staff, then her face, and snorts, adding, "Or perhaps a lesson on teleportation? It's helpful, really."
"Tea...sounds fine," Rin breathes unsteadily.
He steps away from the threshold and invites her inside, shaking his mess of red hair from his scarred face. Rin follows him into the living room, where she sees a familiar, dozing frame on the couch, book open though downface in their lap. The Alchemist (he tells Rin to call him Fukase, but even as his apprentice, she can't bring herself to refer to one of the Greats as their actual name; it just feels wrong) gives the figure a pleasant look before seating himself at his mess of a workspace in the kitchen, gesturing for Rin to seat herself across from him.
She does. Instantaneously, she rifles through the herbs on his table, catching sight of a few batches she'd picked for him just the day before. Fidgeting absentmindedly with them, she spares the silhouette on the couch another glance before meeting the Alchemist's firm, scarlet gaze. "She's been here a lot lately," she notes.
"Kokone, you mean?" He grins, swiping the herb Rin has from out of her fingertips. He rests it in a pretty woven basket set in the corner of the table and musses his hair again. "Well, it gets lonely when you're not around. I need some kind of entertainment aside from your ramblings these days, wouldn't you think?" A hearty laugh escapes him, and he leans back in his seat, arms folded behind his head. "Speaking of ramblings...that's what you came here to do, no? Ramble?"
Rin nods, saying, "Yes. About the nymph."
The Alchemist huffs in irritation, though his smile betrays his amusement. "Is everything always about the nymphs to you?" he asks with a smirk.
Rin would hate to admit that that's the truth; she's been obsessed with the nymphs, or perhaps the Leering Wood altogether, since she was a child. She can remember meeting a beautiful silver nymph when she was no older than eight, being bestowed with flowers, having a night of dancing under the moonlight all to herself, speaking of it to no one after it was over. She can remember it like it just happened yesterday.
Just like she can remember him, in perfect description, right behind her eyelids every time she blinks.
She sucks in a deep breath and asks, "Where's the tea?"
"Hm? Oh, I almost forgot." The Alchemist rises, dusting the grime off his trousers with shaking, pale hands. Rin has noticed he shakes a lot these days. She always believes it's an aftereffect of his battle with the wyvern that rid him of much of his magic. He says otherwise; he says he's just tired. To make things easier, Rin believes him rather than herself. She's his apprentice, so, in the long run, she kind of has to.
As he prepares the tea, he says bluntly, "So, the nymph...get to it. What about him?"
Rin tangles her fingers together on the counter and hunches forward awkwardly. "The Oracle is wrong," she says, "and I'm sick of everyone thinking otherwise."
"The Oracle, you say?" His tongue clicks noncommittally. If Rin knows anything, it's that the Greats all despise each other equally.
"Yes," Rin says, narrowing her eyes. "Since the entire predicament happened, all she's been spreading is nonsense about it. She says the nymph did it- that he did it. But that's not true. I know it's not true. He saved me. The were was the one to attack me. I even have the scars to prove it." She tenderly brushes her wrist against the strips of cloth that cover her thighs and torso. Beneath them is a gruesome latticework of teeth and claw marks that no nymph could ever cause.
Clearing her throat, she continues, "I don't think the nymphs are dangerous, sir. Or even the Leering Wood. Everything the Oracle spews out of her petty mouth is just—it's just—"
"It's false," he intervenes. "That woman knows nothing but false. It makes her feel protected."
"It's bothersome," Rin scoffs, bringing her arms taut to her chest.
The Alchemist sets a warm, steaming cup down in front of her, and sits back down, gritting his teeth as he settles into his seat. As Rin takes a sip of the tea (It's sweet, like candy. Just the way she likes it), he says, "So. You have yet to tell me the story, eh? You mention this nymph every day and you've barely told me how it happened."
"Ah, right." Rin's fingers tighten around her cup, absorbing any warmth that they can. The crisp autumn air just outside these walls is blossoming into winter quicker than Rin would want to admit. She can feel chills creeping up her spine at the mere thought of snow. "It's like this."
.
There had been rumors for months now that the were were growing overpopulated and manifesting in the Leering Wood in unlikely locations. Rin had registered it as nothing more than a harmless piece of gossip.
So she went into the wood to gather herbs, for the first time in years falling just as ignorant as her townspeople. Spring was coming to a close, and soon all of her opportunities at getting the proper herbs for her mentor and their potions would vanish. This was the fullest the plants would be for the next five or so months. She couldn't just walk away blindly and wait until next year.
But she should have. When the sun first started to set and the undergrowth around her started to rustle with something far larger than the common thrush, Rin knew very well that she should have stayed home.
There was a sound not unlike a howl, yet all the same too quiet to be one, and then there was a flurry of stormy grey emerging from the closing space of darkness, surrounding her to close it tighter. She was sure she screamed, that she dropped everything she'd gathered; she couldn't remember, though, a moment later, when a searing pain tore through her leg, another into her stomach. This—this thing, it was biting her; it was digging into her like she was a three course meal.
She attempted to writhe away, battering breathlessly at the ground, and what could have only been a paw slammed against her face and sent her vision into a blurry, haywire mess. Black and red clotted the air, the taste of iron flooding her mouth.
The were didn't relent. It was vigorous, and starving. It carved a trail down her hip, leaking blood all across her favorite slacks, destroying them with her body's own creation. Rin had never felt so useless, so weak. None of her magic would come to her. It stayed dormant in her core, fizzling with no way of escaping. She couldn't for the life of her call for it like she usually could.
For half a heartbeat, she thought: I'm just like the Alchemist, up against something bigger and stronger than me, about to lose all my magic, aren't I?
And just like that, the weight was gone, the were was gone, and Rin was left discarded, a mess of her own flesh and blood on the lush ground of the Leering Wood. She peered up through her sweaty blonde bangs, expecting to see a hunter, or even more so, nothing. A phantom, at least.
What she saw was, undoubtedly and miraculously, a nymph. Him. Pale, his arms and legs wound in flowers and vines that disappeared discreetly into the folded fabric of his chiton. There were daisies in his hair, knotted into a ponytail at the back of his head, and Rin couldn't help but think right in between the lines of life and death that he was absolutely beautiful.
She let herself sink into the soil, facing the sky. If those were her final thoughts, then so be it.
But he confounded her, crouching at her side with an unnerved expression. Cautiously, his fingers, hot and buzzing with magic, grazed the skin of her throat. Rin jolted, the were-inflicted pain returning in her lower body (Where did that monstrosity go, anyway? What did he do with it?) as the nymph worked his magic into her.
"Are you...alright?" he asked. His voice was rough, and all the same lulling and gentle.
"Just dandy," Rin sputtered. A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth; the nymph scowled at it before brushing it away with the thumb of his free hand. Callouses, Rin realized. His hands were immensely calloused. Scabbed over, tattered, fragile (From what?). "The were," she added, squinting against the bright light of the sun. "Where's the were?"
The nymph slid his magic-infusing palm toward her chest. Rin yelped, back arching across the ground, and he apologized mellowly. Then: "Dead, I think."
Rin coughed through a half-hearted laugh, a vicious thrum reverberating in her wounds. "You think?" she echoed, sounding choked, but hopeful. Her family tended to tell her she was too optimistic sometimes. Rin didn't think so. Then again, Rin hardly thought anything at all when it came to them.
The nymph warily dodged the question and said, "You're going to have to come with me."
"I doubt I can walk," Rin retorted.
"I can carry you," the nymph said. He raised partially from his crouch, dipped one arm under Rin's neck, the other beneath her knees, and hefted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. And that's about the same time that the world bobbed artificially, crashed down around her, and submerged her in endless, pointless void of black.
.
She awoke on a bed made of leaves and damp fabric. It occurred to her that she'd magicked herself awake, considering she was prickling with the sparks of unspoken spells. She sat up abruptly, thin blankets drooping off to one side of the bed. Rin inched forward, glancing around for the nymph, and the blanket tumbled completely onto the floor. Grunting, Rin outstretched herself for it, only for a scorching heat to erupt in her abdomen and legs. She threw an arm around her waist, balance gone astray, and landed feebly on her shoulder against the hard wooden floor, a desperate cry escaping her lips upon impact.
Not once in her life had she ever felt something like this. An overwhelming laceration that bit into her magic and squeezed it out of her, bit by melted bit. (Was this what the Alchemist felt like?)
As she struggled to heave herself into bed again, footsteps padded hurriedly into the room, and there stood the nymph in all his glory, seagreen irises blown wide, mouth agape. A strand of straw-blonde hair fell into his eyes, but he made no attempt to swipe it away. Instead, he stepped toward Rin, slung an arm around her shoulder, and lifted her carefully to her feet. She slumped against him, chewing down hard on her tongue.
"You're burning up," he said.
"Magic," Rin explained, exasperated. "Something to do with my magic."
He quirked a brow at her, eventually choosing to relay nothing more. He led her out of the room and into what could have been a lounge, although it was rounded, a full circle, and smelled of pine and sap. Rin collapsed in the chair nearest the door, fingernails digging into the armrest as the nymph tentatively sat on the floor against the wall, one knee drawn up to his chest.
"You're a nymph," Rin blurted stupidly. She picked at the bloody bandages coiled mercilessly around her thighs.
He cocked his head. "Yes. And you're a human."
"Nymphs are supposed to be women," Rin said, "and blood-thirsty."
"Yes," the nymph replied, "and no."
Rin scrunched her nose. The nymph sighed, disgruntled, and continued with a toss of his head, "Nymphs aren't as bad as you humans make us out to be. I can assure you of that." He finally swiped the loose chunk of hair behind his pointed ear. There was a rose tucked behind it, too. Or maybe it was growing there naturally. "But...nymphs are supposed to be women, usually. Maidens, as your kind calls them."
"You're no maiden," Rin muttered.
This coaxed a breezy giggle out of him. "No, I'm surely not." His smile faded, replaced by a look of distant sorrow. "I'm one of very few male nymphs. Three in this wood, myself included."
"You're a rarity."
"Something of that sort."
A beat of silence passed, broken when Rin asked quietly, "Hey—what's your name?"
The nymph glanced up from his twiddling fingers with a curious, "Hm?" before the question clicked and he answered, "Len. It's Len. And you?"
"Rin," she replied. "Kagamine Rin. From Calcherth."
Something in Len's countenance knotted. "I see," he muttered, tilting his head. His lips twitched into a lazy, failing endeavor at a smile. "You shouldn't stay here for much longer. It's not safe for either of us."
"Oh, uh." Rin cleared her throat, standing. She winced at the sharp pain that vibrated in her body, shaking it off feebly. With enough magic, she was sure she could make it home unwinded. "Right. Thank you for the assistance, Len. I owe you one," she said with a feeble bow.
A simple wave of his thorny hand disregarded the offer. "No, you owe me nothing. Have a safe trip home."
Home. It sprung to mind that Rin had no idea where they were currently (She was starting to wonder if perhaps they were in a tree), and by no means did she know how to return home. She peered awkwardly at Len and raised her shoulders. "Um. Where...is home, exactly?"
Len sighed, but his face had gone light with graceful emotion again. "Come on," he said, heading for the wooden door.
"Lead the way," Rin replied in a murmur, and stepped after him into the warm clutches of fading daylight.
.
The Alchemist stares at Rin in what could be admiration or shock or disgust for a long while. With him, it's impossible to tell what he's thinking or feeling. He wears a mask constantly, seldom bothering to take it off. Slowly, the mask crumples as a grin creeps over him, enthusiasm broiling beneath his skin that sends tinges of red magic pooling out of him in fluttering waves. "And you're sure he didn't manipulate you into this memory?"
"Positive," Rin says, furrowing her brow and bringing the rim of her teacup to her lips. From the couch, Kokone stirs, groans, and lolls lazily onto her side, knocking the book to the ground with a muted thud. Rin exhales and focuses back on the Alchemist, taking a sip of her tea. "You seem really thrilled over this."
"I am," he replies, resting his chin on his fist. "Goes to prove that we're right, eh? The nymphs are good, and—"
He's interrupted by a puff of pink clouds and glitter that slowly fades into Kokone's coughing form, the inside of her elbow pressed firmly to her lips.
The Alchemist's eyes water as he turns to her and wheezes, "Waste of magic!"
Rin blocks her nose and Kokone bats, squinting, at the air around her, still hacking violently into her sleeve. "It was practice!" she chokes out.
"Failed practice!" the Alchemist protests. Across from him, Rin raises her staff and aims blindly, hissing, "Praeverro!" In a blur of color, the cloud and the glitter fades, leaving in its wake only Kokone, wiping her eyes and chewing down a smile nervously with her teeth to her lip.
The Alchemist flicks her in the temple and says, "New rule: No magic inside unless it's for alchemy."
Kokone pouts but doesn't argue, just flops down in the seat next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He cracks a grin and slings an arm around her dainty shoulders, and Rin's cheeks heat; she can't help feeling that she's interrupting something intimate and private. (Not to mention she didn't even know that their relationship was...well, that it was this.)
Her rambling is over, though, and she has everything that was on her chest off of it, which means she can leave now, and this strange atmosphere can be deserted. She finishes her tea off in a large, final swig and hops out of her chair. "I should be leaving," she says.
Kokone's brow furrows. "So soon?" she asks, resting a palm against the back of the Alchemist's knuckles. "I just got to see you, Rinny."
The Alchemist tugs her a bit closer, and Rin forces herself not to hurl. She holds her staff closer to her tunic, turning toward the exit of the abode with an urgent, "Not today! Next time!" that is soundly drowned out by a jittery shout of, "Don't forget about tomorrow!"
The door closes behind Rin. She turns on her heel, and she runs.
.
Somehow, Rin finds herself in the wood, casting spells against the bark of a dying tree in a failing attempt to revive it. Since the attack in this same place only weeks ago, her magic hasn't been the same. She's heard that the were, alongside wyverns, trolls and goblins, have the ability to strip any creature of their magic, whether that be a portion or the entirety of it. They can rob it like it's gold, take as much or as little as they just so desire.
Rin never quite thought twice of it until the Alchemist, and then herself. It's a part of her now, and so many others; being drained.
She grits her teeth and directs her staff toward the trunk of the tree again, bellowing, "Subortus!" Pale yellow sparks hitch on the curve of her staff, prickling in eagerness for escape before dying out and slithering into the wood once more. Rin can feel it recede up her veins, locking itself in ornery denial.
She curses aloud, stomps her foot, and drags a hand through her hair.
"Quite the talent you've got there," a chiding voice claims from behind her, and Rin jumps six feet out of her skin. Her staff tumbles limply from her grip into the pale green grass beneath her. A jarring laugh greets her shortly after; her ears and eyes work together to trace it, and she finds, both to her surprise and pleasure, Len leaning against a nearby oak with his arms crossed at his waist. He grins at her, lips cherry red.
"Len," is all she can say. To be perfectly honest, she wasn't expecting to see him again. No one sees the same nymph a second time (That's...what the Oracle says, at least, though Rin is starting to realize her information is worthless). "...You're back."
He shrugs. "A coincidence."
Rin turns toward him and frowns.
Len raises his palms in surrender, green nails catching the glow of the setting sun. "Okay, so maybe I've been...patiently waiting for you to return. But it's important."
Rin tenses. Importance outside making potions doesn't seem like it applies to her.
Len takes a hesitant step forward, then back, and, finally, forward again, until he's standing in front of Rin and is taking her wrist. His countenance is confused—twisted as if he doesn't quite know what he's supposed to be experiencing in this moment. One of the thorns of his palms pricks Rin and draws blood, eliciting a brief wince and silent yelp between her clenched teeth.
Either the nymph doesn't notice or he doesn't care; he squeezes Rin's wrist tighter, peering into her eyes with an endless pool of green and blue, arguing viciously against one another.
He says, nervous and panicked, "I need your help, and if you refuse, then this forest, Calcherth and everything in between be damned. Algeroth is furious and you're the only one of your kind that I can trust right now without accidentally doing something I'll regret."
Rin almost says no, right off the bat, and thinks Len can tell, because he grips her thin wrist tighter, desperate. Trembling. "You owe me," he whispers.
At Rin's side, her staff bursts to life with a flurry of sparks, and the tree she'd been trying to revive flourishes with sudden extravagant vigor. Amid all of it, Len is still touching her, eyes boring into her soul.
She has no idea how to process any of these things.
This idea has been on my mind for a really long time now. It was originally gonna be a twoshot, but...I think it's gonna be a full-length fic at this point, though with shorter chapters than what I'm used to to keep updates frequent.
There's going to be a lot of pairings in this, either blatantly stated or subtly incorporated. ;0 Something I wanted to mention, considering a lot of the pairings are going to be unconventional/uncommon ones!
I should state I'm not too good at first chapters, and have no idea where to start or stop, and fantasy is something I haven't written for in a long while, so, uh. I'm kind of all over the place with this but I'm trying! I have a set idea on where this is going to go, so stay tuned. And considerably, I'm working on a new(ish?) writing style for this. Also, I apologize for any grammatical/spelling errors.
Thanks for reading, anyway! Leave a review if this is your thing, and if not, tata~.
* when "were" (pronounced: where) is used as a noun in this story, it's referring to creatures with the prefix "were", as in werewolves, although there are other species considered to be "were", and thusly the entire term is shortened to "were" alone. it can refer to werewolves, werefoxes, werecat: any type of mammalian creature that can shift between humane and animal form.