Hello, hello! Konductor is finally back with another chapter, sorry about the wait! This one is a lot softer than the first one and it's most in Black's POV too! A little insight to our stubborn Noire and to some of my headcanons for her as well.
I have another chapter in the works, but I'm not entirely pleased with what I have thus far but who knows? I might have it out next month if I survive my wisdom teeth getting taken out.
Hope you all enjoyed it and please tell me what you think!
I'm actually really curious on the chapter placement and I don't want to make things confusing for my readers. Do you prefer continuation chapters to be after the original or in chronological order posting?
Posted: 8/22/19
Edited: N/A
The bed is never empty when she wakes up every morning. She would always feel it; the mattress sinking down by her side, the cocoon of warmth around her, how dark lilac strands mix with snow, the way she is never lonely. A good way to wake up.
Black wouldn't deny that, this is much better than sleeping on random furniture after finishing up with paperwork. Her bed was optional in Lastation. Here in Planeptune, an idiot tugs her under the covers and insists on listening to the beat of her heart as they both sink into slumber. A clever idiot who manages to beat her again, but an idiot, nonetheless.
It has been what? A month or two since her capture by Purple Heart.
She isn't entirely sure of the time. Hours just blurr when her schedule is filled with things to do and with a twin-tailed mongrel to trail behind. Her sense of time is horrific, really. Counting the days didn't exactly matter when one is immortal and all.
Surprising, how easy it was to let the days tick by during periods of normalcy. Kidnapping aside, what had happened is so surreal.
Her neck has even stopped hurting a while ago too. Good, she thinks, fingers feeling the indents of where a certain someone's teeth dug into her flesh, it meant she isn't going crazy. Black has been claimed, or more aptly bitten, in front of Planeptune's own church staff for the sake of a statement.
Not all that shocking, it did get the point across. The violet deity has declared her intents fairly clear, one didn't just appear with an opposing goddess in her arms and not inform your people of the purpose. Pride and embarrassment mean little to the runnings of a nation, after all.
Looking around the bedroom, Black doesn't find herself too thrown off by the change of scenery. It's homier than her own. Personalized and speckled with the energy that sings of her hostess.
Shades of the woman's namesake fill the room. So much more plush and warmth.
A sharp contrast to Noire's own little is monochrome room — or rather rooms, given her ability to sleep wherever necessary — which could never compare to a place like this. The feel of the room practically hugging her.
It isn't bad. She isn't being hurt or abused here or anything. Black supposes that she's too mistrusting to ever accept the hand Purple always took to offering her, no matter how kind.
This is just new and different. As a follower to premade patterns, it's jarring, but not something impossible to handle. The company is nice to have.
Especially so when they weren't so touchy-feely, she internally drawls, drawing her attention back at the fox sleeping beside her. Black is the one with the title of Joker, of Trickster, yet it's the troublesome woman with the moniker of Warlord that has planned something like this under her nose. How embarrassing it is, being out tricked.
When didn't the lilac-haired goddess not get the best of her? It's pathetic, really.
What's the score by now? Barely a third of their fights have ended in her victory, the rest — the majority as historians would come to say — were in Purple's favor.
Perhaps, Purple really did earn the Goddess of Victory title. But giving up isn't something Noire just did, now is it?
She goes to run a hand through her bedmate's hair, marveling at the texture and its waves, Noire has to admit that the mongrel is pretty. So pretty. Even if they were barely surfing passed the cusps of puberty, Purple never failed to garner awe in her, did she?
That cheeky woman… always wandering in and out of her thoughts.. She wonders, briefly, like most short-lived ideas, if Purple ever thought the same.
Black can never tell the difference, if so. She wasn't raised to see if she was cared for, she was raised to make Lastation prosper even further, she was raised to be a sword and a shield to her fellow immortals, she was raised to fight and fight and fight and die.
Ephemeral and transient.
Yet, she has the weirdest inkling that her partner would like to believe otherwise.
That's one consequence to being valued, it seemed. Another new experience among the bunch she's already being introduced to, boy, did Purple love integrating her into the system or what? She gets the point behind the niceties and the bonding, one glaringly obvious solution is in store.
There isn't a lot of hope in her for that solution to truly work, hypothetically it should, but in application… hm, did that matter, though? This is the irritating fool that never stopped chasing her. Perhaps, she could change things as unbelievable as it sounded in her head.
She did mention not hating this situation, right? Because there isn't much to hate. You know, besides the complete and total lack of her control over the situation, of course. Sure, there is some vetoing rights to talk of, but this is Purple Heart.
If everything were up to the idiot, they wouldn't have to leave bed, which didn't sound that bad, but damn it, Black has a reputation and schedule to maintain. It is not falling apart because of someone's whims.
And it really shouldn't be any surprise that her bedmate has a long line of whims to be fulfilled. Bargaining for her tablet back is not how she wants to spend the day. Neither is the petting session for said tablet. Well, not entirely, but it's still impeding her.
What sort of reason is 'spending too much time working' anyways?
That isn't a valid reason to stop her from finishing up a couple dozen reports. The fox is overreacting is all, she takes care of herself just fine.
They were CPUs, immortals, divinities. The concept of dying from exhaustion or improper health care is a hilarious and relatively possible if someone tried hard enough, but she's going to be fine. Her experiments didn't kill her, ergo, nothing less than said experiments would manage to do anything worse. Perfect sense.
A bite couldn't compare. But the gesture is flattering nonetheless, it took a lot of guts to declare a rival goddess belonged to you. To add to that front, according to Lastation's church, nobody knows a thing. Either her people are just that loyal to Purple or she has information in a chokehold.
Both fit her in the end. Which madd denial impossible in the grand scheme of things.
"Blaaack~." Her hand meets flesh.
Geh, more like the flesh of the idiot beside her goes and nestles against the hand messing with her hair. "Good morning."
Noire kinda doesn't wanna look at her because of the greeting. At the same time, not looking at her would get Purple pouty and extra touchy for the rest of the day and that is worse. "Morning," she mumbles, careful not to look too deeply into her eyes.
The fact that the fox's smile brightens far passed the capacity of the sun should have said a lot on their relationship. Blinding almost, the joy that so easily falls on her features. How her sea-like eyes lighten in ways that reflected the color of untouched waters. Too bright, too happy, too loving, too attached, her mind supplies as a head of dark lilac settles in her lap.
This is how affection is shown. Yes, Black knows that very well, but that didn't mean she understands it. She isn't repulsed by the closeness — if that's so, Purple would have given her space and tried another route — the emotion behind it all is just too much. She couldn't relate.
Lastation didn't raise her to experience that.
Black Heart has a purpose and certainly it isn't getting close to her fellow goddesses.
And, unfortunately, the violet patron is aware of her internal discord. "Are you uncomfortable with me doing this?"
She closes her eyes, continuing to run a hand through Purple's hair. "No. Not really." This is new is all, she would get used to this method of living just fine. "Nobody's done this for me before."
Purple's face scrunches up, "I don't like hearing that sorta stuff from you, kitten. I should've beaten up your old caretakers for making you all stiff and cold and whatever, it's not fair that you didn't get cuddles and pettings."
"That's just how the dice fell, mongrel." Noire isn't one to cry over spilled milk or spilled blood, her past is just her past. "No need to get worked up, it isn't worth it."
But Purple isn't one to drop a topic that easily. "It isn't fair, though! You are mine now and just the thought of mortals treating you like, like, like you were nothing but a tool for progression ticks me off! And what's worse is you don't mind!"
This is remarkably childish in her opinion.
A temper tantrum of sorts. Then again, maybe this is just an expression of just how this bothered her partner… mmhn, it sounded better as the later to be honest. She'd go with the latter.
If she really thought about it, her childhood was fairly dull. She didn't go outside often, she wasn't allowed to talk to many people, Black Heart just trained and trained and trained until every last bit of said training was ingrained into her being. Very effective, but not morally polite.
Children aren't supposed to be raised that way, experience later told her, that made child soldiers, which are a pain to have to unwire. Smartass organizations always got Stupid ideas and Stupid ideas has her to take in high-maintenance kids capable of killing people, or some sort of specialized skill, because they were smartasses.
The good news is that they were easy to get along with. They understood her and she them, it made trust much less difficult. Plus, getting rid those who made them soldiers was cathartic.
"I said that it was fine. What part of that is so hard to accept?" Oh look, now they're both sounding like whiny teenagers in bed together. Great, just great. "Can we just move on?"
"For now," Purple concedes, "The concept of using children isn't for bed talk." Yes, because that is exactly what she meant on the subject, absolutely. "What matters most is the two of us."
"Just the egotism of that sentence makes me want to punch you."
The mongrel, unsurprisingly, pouts at that. "I don't mean it in a rude way, just that you matter more than most. Come on, you can't think I'm that obsessed… You are a super hard nut to crack and I had to do something before White or Green thought of another plot."
She instinctively goes to feel the bite mark at the mention of the word obsessed. Before her sanity, and paranoia, clicks back into place. "Please, as if Green knows I've been captured by you. Goddess forbid her even finding out the details to this ever happening, Green might start calling me your sex slave."
A hand goes to grip the one that has been touching her neck. "And I never want to hear her name and those two words together in a sentence."
What a possessive counterpart to have.
Though, the imagery is disturbing to a degree. The only person who would fit as the seafoam-haired teen's partner is White and that is not a picture she wants in her head. Not with the tension those two always seem to have.
Then again, White chose to stand beside her taller-yet-younger half. So, most of that is their own damn fault.
Noire just isn't invested in them enough to ponder on that topic anymore, okay?
"Understandable. I'm just… thinking, considering your continuous presence, it's hard to do anything private. I can't even venture to Lastation without you trailing behind me." Cute, but for a limited time before it got aggravating. "And while I can admit that the cover story of the makings of a possible long-term alliance is feasible, you attached to my hip is not."
"But I like your hips." The only true response to that is a flick to the forehead. Honestly, saying such embarrassing things when the topic is supposed to be serious… "Ouch! Don't hit your lovable partner, little Black." Another flick. "I'm not gonna stop calling you that!"
Noire grits her teeth. "You've been referring to me as such with your subordinates. It's mortifying to know that people know you have those nicknames for me."
Purple pouts again, completely engrossed in proving herself. "You are cute and the world outside of Planeptune needs to know it!"
"It's embarrassing, what the hell can't you comprehend?!"
They spend the rest of the morning arguing with each other. Their shouting bringing rueful smiles upon whoever heard, with the staff presuming their Lady is playing with her red-faced half. And the staff weren't wrong to assume such a thing. Because even amongst the arguing, one could note Black had never stopped playing with Purple's hair.
Dealing with Purple when stuck in Planeptune isn't hard. Daily life in the nation of progress is simply Celestia without the death threats and a lot more physical affection than she's used to.
The number of times she jumped at the familiar pair of arms wrapping around her waist is near endless. How did you get used to that?
Purple always accompanied her during meal time too, insisting that Black eat instead of putting it off for later when she's actually hungry. She knew she shouldn't be doing that. But, did the mongrel really need to have to go with her every time?
Then came the spoon feeding. The literal spoon feeding that Purple just loves doing for her, treating her with food constantly.
The list could go on, really; it just never ended with her.
How she is never alone in bed, never lacks that seamlessly comfortable presence by her side, never worries about watching her back. Noire is being pampered. Pampered and always has the fool beside her, regardless of whatever protests she came up with. There is no stopping Purple.
Her idiotically soothing, two-faced rival who would drop everything in a heartbeat if Black ever has the courage to ask for her. Not that she ever would. She'd been taking advantage of Purple enough now.
All of this is just throwing her off.
Noire could never win with that woman around, could she? Not when Purple is being so considerate — and maybe perhaps too caring — for her sake, failing even to attempt another tension filled eternity that happened in Celestia before. It's wholesome, pure and utterly wholesome compared to the promises the Warlord has whispered into her ear before.
And then there's Purple limiting her time to work too.
Even when she's using her office, even now of all times, the lilac-haired woman remains by her side just to remind her when to stop
Something about how six hours of flipping through pages and pages of paperwork and signing them all is too much a task for even a goddess to undertake alone. A thing she is very much capable of, her partner's insistences be damned. Skipping on her job wouldn't do after all.
She is the patron of a nation of people; responsibility is a necessity. A little work isn't going to kill her after all, it'd probably be someone else's blade that did that job.
Not that Noire's going to tell her hostess. Black shivers at the thought; Purple, who continued to coo and coddle her, finding out about her thought process is one thing she hoped would never occur in this world of theirs.
How very unlikely, knowing her luck.
Nails tap at the desk as her other hand runs through silvery locks in a familiar frustration.
Her mind isn't the most positive of things, which is why she has so many plans — trust isn't luxury she could afford, not with her paranoia. An annoying double-edged sword Noire would admit to having. Teal orbs flicker over to the mongrel in question, soft and clear skin practically glowing in the sunlight by the window.
Purple's napping on the couch, a little part of the day she loved to do if the peaceful and all too heart twisting look on her face meant anything to Black.
Dark lilac strands are casually spread across the plush cushions, curtaining an expertly sculpted face.
A far cry from Celestia.
She looks back to the papers, a sense of knowing have already settling in her heart. But then again, Noire is different there too. Sharper, unyielding, harsher, brutal and uncaring, a good goddess.
Not that a good goddess equated to a good person. Noire knew better than that, of course she did; after all, duty didn't excuse what they've done over the years.
The light taps against hardwood help to soothe Black. Along with the admittedly cute snores from by the window, they're a cold compress to her soul, shaking her out of the numbness the paperwork manages seems to yank her in.
"Happy thoughts," Black reminds herself, tussling up her hair to its more chaotic form. "Think happy thoughts."
It wouldn't do to wake Purple up because of this.
That woman has her hands full with the minor political situation her whole public claiming has stirred up. Purple deserves a rest.
This is least she could do, Noire thinks, putting pen back onto paper.
"Dance with me?"
Black blinks at the hand being held out to her, teal irises flickering up to the owner. The smiling Purple Heart is wearing a modest dress with a sea of ruffles — one that she'd normally refuse — only accentuating the young woman's natural beauty.
Funny, how just seeing her wear that made her feel like a lesser being all together. Though, this is the fox she's looking at.
She should've expected being wowed like this. Planeptune goes all out with their shows of progress, never falling behind among the four nations. Its leader would be no different, of course. Or maybe that's just the bitterness in her acting up again?
Stuck in a simple suit of black and silver, there is nothing that stood out the way Purple did. But the mongrel has always been exceptional, hasn't she? It is understandable and Black could respect that.
Demanding she wear a suit for this activity aside, she still takes the fox's offer.
Simply seeing the sheer joy blossom on her face at the gesture gives her a good enough idea on just how much this mattered. Meaning, no, Black couldn't just try to hide away now that she found that little morsel of information. She's uncertain on her positioning, not cruel. Dancing with her couldn't be that bad…
Because for all intents and purposes, there's no denying that the patron of Planeptune could be gentle with her, could be kind to her. Purple could be childish, cruel and utterly brutal, but that certainly didn't define her.
The same way Black Heart's own perfectionism didn't reflect her own self either. But, the woman in front of her probably knows that already.
"Of course," she says, cautious gripping a hold of the hand.
It's sort of funny, now that Noire thinks about it.
The one dressed in the suit, the masculine role, being lead by the one wearing the dress, the feminine role, but she isn't one for titles and conceptions in the first place, now is she? That would mean bending to whatever man thought it proper to order her around and that isn't right either.
A goddess has no superiors. She is of the divine and the only one who has the right to even attempt to push her around are the other PCUs. The mongrel being the closest out of any of them to thar.
Purple grins, smoothly pulling her onto the ballroom floor with a swish of violet cloth. "I've always heard of the soirees Lastation holds, the regality's dark horse being such a charming partner when she feels the want."
She swallows. "Those," are only rumors, Noire wants to say. Wants to insist, really, in a futile attempt to discourage her rival from prodding any further into the rabbit hole.
How does she know about Black's outings? About the parties?
Is there a hole in security? "Those weren't something one would normally ask me about, mongrel. Nor do they concern the likes of Planeptune." It's a private affair for a reason, not even her Basilicom members know what their Lady did alone.
And Noire would like to be it as such.
A hand slides to her waist as the vixen of a woman tugs her closer, lips pressing up against her ear with an all too playful whisper. "They concern me or am I not your half, little Black?" They spin together, uncaring to the echoing silence of the room. "I am yours and you are mine, is that not how this arrangement is set between us?"
"I wish to share everything with you, do you not wish the same?"
Everything is a big word. A heavy word with connotations that makes her head spin the longer she thinks about it.
Black is fine here, there's nothing wrong with a place as personal and soothingly warm as Planeptune. The Basilicom members, civilians and even its goddess are kind.
But she is hesitating again, holding herself back. Too cautious, too mistrusting, too skittish to accept what is offered to her.
Moving in tandem with Purple, listening to ever constant thump of her heart is easy as breathing. Making choices for herself, however? Being herself without anything to offer is a trying thing.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Her heart stutters as Noire comes to grip the violet fabric, trying to speak. "I.. I'm not.. used to sharing? I'm not even sure what I'm doing with you, Purple, this doesn't– this doesn't make sense to me."
You don't make sense to me, she doesn't say.
Goddess, is that embarrassing to admit. She still has her pride, damnit, no matter how uncertain things have become.
"I wonder," the twin-tailed divinity pulls her into a twirl, "Are you even aware of how deeply I feel?"
"O–Of course, I am! I'm, I'm not blind; I know you well enough for that."
That doesn't kill her fear, though. It doesn't drown the hesitation and the inklings of treachery that stood in the background. This is complicated, isn't it? They're supposed to be enemies and now Purple is openly admitting her desire for Black, it's surreal — how is she meant to respond?
This is about attraction. An indescribable pull that is already and has been affecting them ever since their first meeting in Celestia.
She's enchanted by the infuriating woman, the fool that's gradually ensnaring her heart.
But there is always doubt. The whispers that push her forward for Lastation's sake and Lastation's sake alone are digging knives into her skin now. Mocking her, warning her, urging her of what's to come.
Black doesn't know what to do. She means it when she believed there could be more with them, more than a mere pragmatic alliance and shared strength, that Purple — who could go from a Warlord to a concerned lover — is being truthful.
Cerulean peers into teal, a pout pulling at her lips as she contemplates her words. "Then, what must I do to convince you?" None of that absolution burns in her gaze, only the soft and ever present concern in the sea-like pair.
She looks away, stepping backwards with the unspoken beat between them. But with Purple's hand keeping a hold of one of her own, well, the darker deity knows escape is impossible.
They are connected, always has been and always will be. Trying to run would do her no good, anyways — the fool would follow her in the end, the same way Black is with Purple. There really is no winning here. No victory for her, not that there would ever truly be one when it comes to Purple Heart.
If that's the case, then it's best to make the most of it, no?
"Everything then."
Blink. Blink. Blink. Purple stills at her thoughtless admission as Noire looks at their feet, her face flushing from blurting an answer like that out.
Everything, she's said, everything.
Did… did that sound greedy? The immortal really couldn't tell, she really didn't know what to say to the woman question. There's no familiar script to read and respond to. Just the blissfully quiet beats of two hearts as one and herself fumbling to react.
But, Black doesn't want to be a burden, that much she knew very clear. And isn't she already eating away at her partner's time and energy with this?
This is the thing she despises getting into, feelings are such a pain.
And the fox's persistence is convincing, too.
Still, she resists. Bending to Purple's whispers and promises is tempting thing, yes, this dance of theirs having long since passed the point of being a mere amusement for the Warlord's gaze. A life like this is of no pet, either. That warmth is palpable now, right under her fingertips and thrumming with the ichor in the fool's veins. This place feels like home.
Like a home, Noire mentally corrects herself, keeping her focus on her footwork. The only place that even comes close to fitting these standards is her Basilicom.
Did Planeptune really have the criteria?
Before her mind wanders any further, a pair of lips press against her forehead, body slamming every meaningless thought out the window as her brain fizzles out. Purple giggles at what has to be the dumbfounded look on her face.
"You have always had a way with your words, though, I suppose it is fitting for the one graced with the title of Silver Tongue." The strongest of the four hums, cerulean preening as she whispers in her ear. "You desire everything I have to offer? Then I wish for the same from you."
.
.
.
Leading after that retort is a great deal easier with her captive too stunned to stop her. They're closer now, in an curling embrace as she continues to utter sweet promises in the red-faced Black Heart's ear.
"I shall be yours and you will be mine. I intend to accept every bit of you, each scar and imperfection you believe yourself to possess, all of it I want."
No matter what inadequacy burns in her mind, Neptune would continue to want her. She's waited this for so long and her dream is so close to being achieved at last.
She's willing to wait again, if necessary.
Black wouldn't leave now, though. Oh, there's no denying her rival would try to flee at what she just said, but it wouldn't happen. Not when Neptune has finally acquired an answer from her. Everything. If the white-haired CPU wants that from her, she would gladly give Black everything.
They are equals, even if Purple fixates on Black on being at her feet at times. She's the only one worthy of standing beside her, not White or Green; her cynical and mistrusting half deserves only the best, deserves so much more than what she has.
Life has given her adorable partner such a cruel fate, but that matters little with her here.
She's not going to lie that her intentions are anything close to being pure. Purple wants Black in so many ways, but she wants the best for her too.
Neptune breathes in the soft scent of ink and roses, swaying in place. "I only want for you to be happy. Does that frighten you?"
It does. She didn't need confirmation for that when she's already seen enough. But, hearing Black's acknowledgement meant that she's aware and does give a damn on what is the biggest obstacle in their way.
The mop of silvery snow nods into her, hiding her face in her chest.
Her stubborn and fragile little Black.
"You worry me, you do realize? Pushing yourself to the very edge of functionality and arriving in Celestia with wounds that were not even fully healed… never do you stop and ponder on why I retaliate the way I do whenever I see you in such a state?"
If there's one thing Neptune hates the most, it's the sight of Black Heart, her little kitten, injured in ways that she shouldn't have been.
Why is the one constant in her live her rival being hurt?
Zenir: Really sorry for the wait then! But I'm glad to hear you hold my writing in such high regard! It great encouragement to keep at this, I hope I'll see what you think of this one!
Eins: I'm glad to see your curious about Divided, but don't worry, you'll get your answers. At the core it is Black and Purple, only with their experiences changing. So, I do try to keep their hearts the same in the end. A bit of variety is always nice when it comes to nicknames, especially when Black is involved. Thanks for reading, I really enjoy reading your comments.
Rpbautis: It's tough to be professional when you're a kid after all, though this is much cuter, wouldn't you say? And sorry about the chapter confusion!
Omega Heart Chan: I'm glad you like it! Tell me what you think about this one?
TSolarus: I'm not exactly the type to right cute and warm fluff, but I'll do my best to provide more of them as kids since you like it so much!
Zui Zui Chan: Those two are always a fun combination, aren't they?
Shiena: Glad to hear that!