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He was brilliant.
You weren’t concerned about hushed rumors weaving themselves through the Akademiya halls. Supposedly, people in Sumeru City chased him away with pitch forks and clubs when he was younger. What could a child do to warrant such reactions from adults? Public records didn’t exist to support the rumor, so you disregarded it.
You reminded your peers about the dangers of misinformation and gossip when the topic arose. You stood up for him, even though he was unaware of your existence. Perhaps you had some sort of bias you were unwilling to acknowledge. Afterall, you found him captivating.
Initially, it was his self-assured nature that drew you in. He remained calm under pressure in any debate.
You could fill in a research manuscript on your favorite things about Zandik. His beautiful locks of pale blue hair and how they became tousled after long nights of studying. The way his crimson eyes ignited with passion when presenting. Or the dimmed, tired version, with bags beneath them because he absolutely had to know something.
His movements…his voice…the shape of his face…The list truly went on.
Despite attraction overtaking your judgement, you had another feeling about him. The slightest edge of unease made itself home in the back of your mind. Your infatuation strangulated these alarms; shrinking the concern down until it became microscopic. Yet, it lingered, occasionally speaking up, though never forceful enough to sour your opinion of him. You based everything on observable behavior. There wasn’t a logical reason why people disliked Zandik because you hadn’t observed a reason.
He was a loner, completely detached from others, until he needed to be present. Arrogance, passive-aggressive remarks, and heated jabs were typical of the Akademiya environment. Zandik fit in when he needed to, though; he bided his time for the right moment to make rivals question their entire existence.
Career-ending embarrassment was an understatement, and he was ruthless if someone set the stage for academic war. You found his tactics fascinating. Public displays of humiliation weren’t a preferred past time of his, because he had better things to do. He perfected dismantling someone’s psychological foundation for the sake of the academic game. For you, the show was intoxicating to observe.
It was after such an event in the grand hall that he looked your way. While other peers curled their lips in disgust or walked away shaking their head, you remained amongst the nosy few. Unbothered, bored red irises settled on you, and they flashed with curiosity for a moment before becoming entirely neutral. You swore the correction came because he didn’t want the emotion to be known.
He wasn’t the only confident person in the room. Egos remained inflated, but your confidence exalted your ability to achieve intellectual titles. Your brows relaxed as a gentle smile appeared on the corner of your mouth. He tilted his head slightly before turning his attention to the Amurta Great Sage before him. You couldn’t linger to witness his second debate because class started soon and you were busy with your enhanced schedules.
Zandik’s reputation wasn’t the only one to garnish rumors and whispers. There was an overachiever amongst the halls, and no one had a name for them. Someone who enrolled in four different schools. Who could manage all the projects and time?
It was you.
Your official transcripts listed the Rtawahist, Spantamad, Haravatat, and Vahumana schools, which the Grand Sage kept carefully locked away in her office from prying eyes. You had additional rules to follow for such allowances.
Rule 1: You couldn’t tell anyone about your quadruple enrollments. When peers questioned your attendance in a variety of classes, you had to explain you were Undeclared.
Such a damning title. Stating you were Undeclared made you a lesser, discredited individual. It proclaimed to your peers that you didn’t know what you wanted and lacked the ideal decisive nature of a true scholar. You had no foothold in debates regardless of your intellectual edge and confined yourself to the Akademiya, never to become a Driyosh; or traveling scholar, until graduation.
Like Zandik, you were unconcerned with others' opinions. You weren’t enrolled for them, and the reveal would come with your successful graduation.
Despite being known as an Undeclared individual, you had no problem making friends. You were easy to work with. People didn’t consider you a threat to their academic pursuits because of your perceived status. Everyone found comfort in your presence once they set aside their own anxieties to know you.
Your congeniality and ability to see positives attracted criticism. Sohreh of Amurta did not care for you. After all, why did an Undeclared student have so much respect from their peers? Their body language in your presence gave away their thoughts when you approached mutual friends. She pursed her lips, withdrew her limbs into a tight, defensive fashion, and darted her eyes dismissively when you spoke to those around you. Was it jealousy? Or something more? You didn’t know the true reason, but you had a theory you kept to yourself.
The Amurta Great Sage considered her a favorite and you turned down the invitation to apply to his school because you did not care about the study of biology. Bits and pieces occasionally caught your interest, but it wasn’t something you felt drawn to pursue relentlessly like the other schools. The Sage took this personally. What a fitting narrative that his favorite student functioned as a means of external dissatisfaction for the perceived slight? The prospect amused you because the Great Sage wasn’t supposed to speak about your multiple enrollments; yet this student had an immediate dislike for you.
Or perhaps, she was just a bitch.
Sohreh bristled as you made a logical point about observed changes in fungi and animal growth along mapped ley lines. Her eyes narrowed and she came at your credentials, reminding the group engaged in your discussion that you were Undeclared and didn’t have a proper foundation in the Amurta or Spantamad school.
“How could you possibly come to this conclusion when you aren’t a proper Driyosh?” she asked with venom laced in her tone. “Undeclared bystanders don’t become a traveling scholar, and you have no personal experience or thesis submitted for review. How could you understand changes in biology and the influence of ley lines?”
Uneasy silence settled among the group. People shifted as the heaviness endured and it was within that awkwardness you locked eyes with Zandik. Paused in passing, head tilted in curiosity as he observed you the same way you did him so many times before. Your methods differentiated from his. You set yourself neutral before responding cooly to the blatant disrespect.
“Would you like to rephrase that before I respond? I am happy to elaborate on my conclusions, but let’s keep things professional. Now, would anyone like to add something constructive to our discussion?” You opened your arms to invite them further while keeping a warm tone and confident smile. Now, you hold the position of power while calling out the challenger’s behavior.
Sohreh shrank away as exciting chatter and theories continued amongst the group. Your ability to facilitate in the moment brought about a wonderful experience amongst your peers. You noticed Zandik lingered, potentially intrigued by your boldness as an Undeclared student. This time, he presented you with a half-smile before moving on to his next lecture. You felt yourself grinning in return, yet that familiar, tiny feeling in the back of your mind seemed to warn you about the way his gaze rested upon you.
During a Liyue linguistic class, you replayed the silent moment between you and Zandik. You felt elated from the connection and a rare moment of daydreaming overcame your mind. The lecture melted away into distorted noise as your eyes wandered along the patterns on a stained-glass window.
You imagined more situations of catching his gaze, exchanging smiles. You pictured him coming closer, wanting to be near you, but suddenly becoming shy in an unexpected way so he’d depart to try again another day. He didn’t know how to process these emotions. Still, he sought you out because he'd never felt this way before. You cross paths more often, until one day, out in the market, you run into one another.
It was just the two of you. The moment might have been a bit awkward at first because he didn’t know how to set aside academic speech to address attraction. Another smile and this time a softer exchange of glances. You asked him to get coffee because he didn’t know how. You had such a tongue-tying effect on this normally composed, handsome scholar.
The fantasy continues within the Puspa Café. You share coffee and Padisarah Pudding while getting to know one another. His confidence gathers as you ask open-ended questions about his passions. He’s eager to share because you’re engaged without dismissing his interests. This isn’t the defensive debate he’s used to partaking with and it’s refreshing to be heard instead of challenged.
Eventually, he turns the conversation to you, and while you’re standing on your podium of passion, he finds himself drawn in, reaching a hand across the table to brush against yours and-.
Bam!
A loud noise draws you back to reality. Your head snaps upward as your spine straightens. You are aware of the presence beside you as the professor glares down. Your eyes shift from him to the large object on the floor, a heavy book thousands of pages thick.
“Is the topic that boring? Would you like to present your knowledge on the evolution of Liyue Script since you clearly know so much on the matter and don’t feel the need to pay attention?”
His words cut through you. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel every eye in the room bore through your entire being. From second-hand embarrassment, pity, to maliciously amused expressions, you found yourself in the hot seat. Despite the discomfort and your racing heart, you focused on your breath while the Haravatat professor’s irritation rose. You audaciously made eye contact with him as you steadied yourself prior to answering.
“I apologize, sir. Anything I say to explain my actions is an excuse and I will not waste further time. The topic is not boring, and I accept the consequence of the disrespect I showed today in your class. I want to say, Liyue’s language evolved after a variety of calamities and those changes combined with the tragedies are-.”
He waved his hand to silence you, but you noticed his expression relaxed as you spoke honestly. Normally, disruptors had to retrieve the book on the floor as a sign of submission, but he retrieved it, which signaled his rare approval. He adjusted his glasses and sighed. “Perhaps you are tired after studying too long. This is something we all understand in the Akademiya. See me after class for an assignment- this is not punishment, but an opportunity. I expect your full attention for the remainder of our time.”
You bowed your head as he made his way to the front to continue his lecture on the inhabitants of Chenyu Vale and the mysteries surrounding them. The air of the lecture hall eased, and you were determined not to slip up again. To prove yourself further, you engaged in asking thorough questions.
Upon dismissal, you approached the professor’s desk. He gave you praise for your composure under pressure.
“You adjusted yourself as promised today and I am pleased to bring this topic to you for further exploration.” He smiled as he leaned back in his chair to study your expressions. “Cataclysmic events and their influence on linguistics. What a curious topic; one studied, but never enough because most people are worried about the future. Unless they find undiscovered tangible evidence from the past. Good research often becomes eclipsed by the ego and we miss information. Do you agree?”
He paused for a moment to let his statement sink in while he patiently waited for your insight. “Every thesis, book, stone tablet, and beyond are rooted in bias with the author’s sole perspective,” you say. “The reality is, we can only make educated guesses as we cross-reference materials to make accurate depictions of history. No one is alive for us to ask and even if they were, their viewpoint may embody overinflated storytelling. We see the flaw of perspective when people are questioned from a crime scene. In short, we know nothing.”
“We know nothing,” the professor echoed as he intertwined his hands together. He drew in a deep breath as he tilted his head to the ceiling. “We know nothing. And yet?”
“And yet our curiosity drives us to piece the puzzles together,” you answer. “Information changes as discoveries happen. What is groundbreaking now may become obsolete later; this is the curse and blessing of academics.”
His eyes sparkled as a smile crept across his face. “I know your situation at the Akademyia. You’ve been here from an incredibly early age. Since your acceptance, you’ve kept your ego in check and embodied the three virtues harmoniously. I am curious what linguistic changes you’ll come across when you compare writings prior to and after specific disasters in Liyue’s history. How did the language of the nation change and is there information about their writing system prior to ChenYu Vale?”
The professor blinked for a moment and shook his head. “Forget I said anything about the last statement. It is not worth pursuing. Focus on changes in language and disasters within the nation of Liyue.”
You narrowed your brows, confused and curious about the sudden change in demeanor. “Forgive me, but I must question something. ChenYu Vale is the oldest civilization in Liyue. There is not a record of a civilization prior to ChenYu Vale, or is there?”
The professor glanced away as if dissociating “No, there isn’t,” he said slowly, “which is why you won’t be able to compare writings properly. Complete the task I assigned and don’t concern yourself about chasing something that doesn’t exist.”
He rose from his chair and motioned you to the door. Without checking to see if you followed, he opened it wide. “Now, I have a lot to take care of, as do you with your new work and continuous learning. I look forward to your findings, particularly around the Guili Assembly establishment and beyond.”
You stayed for a moment, analyzing his body language. He eyed you after he realized you didn’t move with him and he puffed in annoyance. “Is there a reason you’re lingering?”
“Do you think something exists prior to Chen-.”
He quickly closed the door and eyed you carefully. “It is forbidden,” he answered bluntly. “I regret speaking on the matter because it’s something that almost led to my expulsion. There are questions we have, but they must remain unanswered for our protection.”
“How could looking into ChenYu Vale’s past be forbidden? If we have a theory, we should-.”
“What are the six sins?” he countered questioned.
“Interfering with human evolution,” you answered. “Revering gods without acts of devotion. Tampering with life and death. Delving beyond the universe….” You paused as you considered the remaining two. Clarity washed over you as you realized the answer.
You responded much slower, “Attempting the forbidden and fearing none.”
Before speaking the last one, you made eye contact with the professor. “And investigating the origin of words.”
The professor nodded as heaviness settled between you two. “Do not recreate my mistakes by chasing curiosities shrouded in carless pursuits,” he warned. “Your future is extraordinary, do not taint it.”
Silence filled the room as he gave you time to process his warning and the weight of reaching out for forbidden wisdom. “Promise me you will drop the topic, no matter how bad the curiosity scratches at your mind. “
“I promise,” you replied without hesitation.
He breathed out, as if to reset all his nerves before reopening the door and calmly motioning for you to leave. “Consider this your official thesis for the Haravatat school and your formal path to potentially receiving the Pir Kavikavus Prize upon graduation,” he muttered as you passed.
You offered a wide grin as he shuffled inside his office, leaving you to empty halls filled with dimmed lantern light. What a possibility to consider? Selected for the Pir Kavikavus Prize would mean extraordinary opportunities; and potential questions because no Undeclared individual had ever achieved it. Though, if you did obtain the prize for your research, it would not change the matter. You weren’t an Undeclared individual on paper, simply by prefabricated falsified reputation.
Thoughts swarmed your head as you grabbed a quick bite to eat then headed to the House of Daena to begin your research. You were one of the few that did not rely on the Akasha for information. Access to so much knowledge at once is helpful, but you often felt the Akasha system hindered critical thinking.
A testament to the overreliance of the Akasha became apparent with how empty the library remained regardless of the time of day. Though, you didn’t complain because it was peaceful here amongst all the books and scrolls. Your footfalls echoed across pristine marble flooring as you collected books for your newly assigned topic. You moved carefully because you didn’t need to attract conversation- not that many came in here. Still, you wouldn’t risk the chance of a distraction or questions about the wide access the sages allowed you.
Rule 2: You are allowed elevated access to the House of Daene for research purposes, but you cannot borrow books for other people. You cannot speak of your elevated access, and it is encouraged for you to use the House of Daena over the Akasha to further provide protection of your enrollment.
That was an easy agreement to honor because of your stance on the Akasha. The problem was knowing the book’s location but not being able to help your friends. Since you were an Undeclared Individual, protecting your unique reputation mattered, making it necessary to look after your own interests carefully.
You were completely unaware someone watched you as you collected materials. He lost count of how often you frequented the House of Daena after a full day of lecture. After the 50th time, some years ago, he expected your presence and knew the exact time you’d visit. Your consistency comforted him.
He memorized your schedule and knew the classes you attended for the past three years. All your behaviors? He noted them and any changes he found. Your favorite snacks? Well documented. Weight loss? Weight gain? Illness? In his logs combined with treatments he snuck into your food.
Today was the second day of the week, which meant you preferred a simple pita pocket with baklava as a sweet treat from the market. He knew you felt guilty for eating two pieces instead of one. You’ve cursed yourself for indulging for at least three weeks. It’s why he left cranberry tea on your preferred table tonight.
He remained fixated on you as you considered the strange placement of hot tea at your table. This was new. Confusion twisted on your face as you tried to make sense of this gesture. The hall was empty and the books became heavy in your arms. You set them down carefully, so you didn’t spill the tea.
His amusement grew as you stepped from your hideaway to glance about once more. He followed your gaze to various tables, knowing full well you concluded this wasn’t a mistake. Something about the expressions you made as you thought through the situation made him smile, though there was nothing endearing about the upward curl on his lips.
You beheld the tea before drawing it to your nose. Fruity with a tinge of chicory and perhaps fennel? You weren’t sure and you hesitated to drink it. The sudden placement made you weary. Who was it and why did they do it? Yes, the intention seemed nice, but you didn’t trust drinks you didn’t make. No one was around, so you lowered the cup and set it aside to begin thumbing through the collections of books before you.
Zandik observed you until the steam faded from your drink. His eyes narrowed. He chewed on the side of his mouth as an hour passed. You never took a sip, and the disrespect made his face burn. And then a thought occurred which made him neutralize the building rage in his core. He appreciated your cautious nature because you thought through potential threats, though what if you knew who it came from? Would you still hesitate to drink it?
After checking his surroundings and making sure you were engrossed in your studies, he made his way to your hideaway. You didn’t hear him approach. Something told you to look up because you felt this sense of unease and when you did, he paused a few paces from your table. You couldn’t remove your sight from his as you slowly lowered your book. Your cheeks flushed because your mind flashed back to the daydream from earlier. Now, he stood before you and all you could do was freeze and swallow to make your throat less dry.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked all confident and polite.
You blinked, then glanced about for another chair. He smirked before waving his hand to silently dismiss your concern. He grabbed the back of one and lazily brought it forward. He leaned in and propped his chin upon his hand while his elbow rested firmly on the table. Those piercing crimson eyes never left you.
“Not a fan of tea?” he asked as he motioned to the cup and kettle with his other hand. He knew the answer. You absolutely were because you had a collection; and he knew every part of that collection because he personally took inventory. He removed the ones with no useful benefits to your health and added some you “forgot” buying. He took pleasure in hearing you speak about the selections he made to your peers in passing. Amusement came with your inability to recall purchasing those selections. You had no idea…
“Wait, this is-.”
“From me, yes,” he finished. He watched your expression shift from surprise to regret as you immediately reached for the cup.
Thus concludes the experiment.
He enjoyed that you expressed remorse for letting it get cold. Of course you should apologize for not appreciating his efforts. You would learn to value everything he does in such a way that it bordered on worship. He would make sure of this.
For the sake of performance his eyes softened, and he waved his hand dismissively again. “I accept the apology. You were cautious and I did this impulsively.”
You drank the tea and recognized the cranberry flavor. It was lukewarm now, but a question arose in your mind; why this tea in particular? He anticipated your concern before you spoke. Zandik shrugged as your lips parted to probe. “I know nothing of tea. I grabbed something random at a stall before coming here to study. I figured it would be comforting. Is it at least something caffeinated?”
He knew the answer. He learned about teas and their medicinal properties as someone intrigued with medicine. Your interest in teas drove him further down the rabbit hole and he found tea to be one of the rare things he enjoyed while researching a subject.
Your face warmed and you laughed before replying. “Not caffeinated, but it’s alright if I don’t have caffeine for now.”
Zandik pretended to look disappointed because that seemed to be the appropriate response. “I see, perhaps I could go back and purchase more? Judging by that stack of books, it’s going to be a long night.” Another smile appeared on your lips as he stood. He kept his knee half bent because he expected you to stop him.
“Wait, you don’t have to do that. You have research of your own to do. Maybe we could take a break later and get coffee?”
Predictable.
He considered this option for the sake of being polite before showing severe disinterest. He lowered himself back into his chair before settling his sights upon you again. “I am not fond of sitting in public places for too long. Too noisy and I grow easily annoyed when I hear small talk.”
So much for your coffee shop fantasy. “Ah, I see, well perhaps-.”
“We could bring the coffee here?” he suggests as a compromise.
“You know, I’d really like that.”
You smiled at each other, but there was a darkness behind his eyes that you simply didn’t register. This interaction was wrong. He found joy in your naivety. You let your guard down so easily for him just as he anticipated. He watched you eagerly drink the tea he gifted you as you chatted about interests. He knew your hobbies, yet he asked questions to let you spill your heart out about them. Meanwhile, his answers were vague when you tried to find out more about him. He turned the conversation back to you tactfully to avoid personal inquiries, until a more academic discussion began.
It was here his mask slipped and he found himself criticizing points on a deep level which normally led to people lashing out. He didn’t belittle your character, but the way he presented his points felt like a personal attack. You were different and it didn’t matter how he picked apart your stance; you were graceful. You asked him questions and saw his point of view. You…listened.
You actually listened and appreciated him for sharing his views. He didn’t open the door wide about his theories but, here you were, letting him explain his side. You didn’t cut him off, call him insane, dig to discredit his very foundation, not at all. You let him speak from passion without judgement.
His mouth became parched, and you noticed it, so you handed him a cup of tea. Zandik took it then paused as he noticed some sort of lower discomfort. In a moment to steady himself he resituated and passed his hands over his thigh to smooth out his pants. His left land stopped on his upper thigh, and he glanced down quickly to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind. “Absurd,” he said aloud as he stared at his arousal. He didn’t mean to vocalize his reaction. It slipped and now you were concerned. The stage fell apart entirely and he could scream!
Zandik’s ears felt as if they’d caught fire. Luckily, they were hidden by his medium length hair. Though the sensation spread to his cheeks, which you unfortunately noticed.
“Are you alright? How can I help?” you asked as you pushed your chair back as if to stand and come to his rescue.
You didn’t catch the glare he shot your way beneath his cascade of blue hair covering part of his face from the audacious attempt to soothe him. He chewed on the side of his cheek for a moment as he tried to understand how he ended up in this situation. Everything felt out of control. His body betrayed him. It wasn’t supposed to react this way. Not to you. Not to anyone!
“Zandik?”
You said his name and all he could hear was you saying it in a different tone. Though, more certainly came to mind. He had you on this table, facing him, deep inside while he told you some of the darker theories he had. He told you everything while thrusting agonizingly slow. If you questioned him in a way he didn’t like, he’d make sure you felt it. Though, you wouldn’t cross him because you were just so good for him. You were made to hear him.
“Zandik?”
He closed his eyes as he pressed his palm into his now aching problem, making the fabric burn along the length as punishment. He snapped his gaze to you as he drew in a staggered breath. “I apologize,” he said hoarsely.
Something about his voice made you freeze in place. His expression brought another set of questions, but he sighed as he secretly tucked away his problem and rose from his seat.
“I am tired so I will call it an early night,” he explained further. “Coffee tomorrow, I won’t forget.”
You didn’t have time to respond because he left with such haste. Zandik’s footsteps echoed clearly all the way to the library entrance. His hurried pace suggested eagerness to leave rather than exhaustion. You sat quietly once the doors to the House of Danea shut. Was it something you said? Did you insult him? Maybe tomorrow you’d have answer. For now, you needed to resume your research.
Zanidk practically threw himself into his private quarters and braced himself against the door with the most unhinged, twisted snarl on his face. The distance between the two of you didn’t matter. His chest rose and fell as he glanced down once more to make sure…and he was! Still! After practically running to his room and cursing his body. He was hard.
He glanced around in the dark for a moment before peeling himself from the door. Urgent jabs passed long each lamp from the entranceway of his apartment to his bedroom. “Unbelievable!” he cursed aloud. “I don’t understand…”
Reactions like tonight never happened. Perhaps, it was the conversation, not you. That made more sense because intimacy with someone he wanted to use as a tool never invaded his thoughts. “It’s not just the act of revealing plans because I’ve done it without dealing with THIS! No, it’s you. It’s all you. WHY you?”
He felt himself breaking because he didn’t understand why this desire overwhelmed him. Normal sex. Something tame. Something passionate. Something…without much harm coupled with meaningful penetration. He couldn’t deny for a moment wanting to watch himself in the mirror as he fucked you, but it wasn’t entirely selfish. He wanted you to feel good too.
His lips curled in disgust at the thought of willingly focusing on someone else’s pleasure. “How fucking dare you?” he growled as he reached for a box beneath his bed. He unlatched it quickly and found one of your pictures. He obtained a few just to pick one for the file he made about you.
A realization made him pause as his gaze bore holes through the picture of you smiling during the Sabzeruz Festival for the Akadeiyma’s newsletter last year. He bribed the photographer and while it wasn’t the bland picture sitting on the first page of your file, he kept it. He never kept pictures of people. They were boring and only temporarily useful. And yet…
He had this small, latched box under his bed with a few of your pictures. This was his favorite one because of the way the light captured your eyes, and he hated that he couldn’t throw it away. He disliked knowing your handwriting; even though he could identify many, his eyes always sought yours first regardless of his original intention for scouring visitation books around the Akademyia. He paused every time and traced it delicately before moving on.
He collected notes you threw away. Drawings too. He adored those because you were an extraordinary artist. He became absorbed in your meticulousness and couldn't comprehend why you discarded some of these pieces. If only you’d finish them.
“For the purpose of research,” he told himself as he pulled them from the rubbish.
If that were true, why weren’t these things in your file? Why were they in a box under his bed? No one else had a box. “I hate that fucking box,” he growled as he hastily undid his pants and kicked off his shoes. “I hate…that damn perfume you wear.”
Another lie given away by how his eyes rolled at the thought of the warm scent of pistachio, salted caramel, and vanilla. He broke into your room on multiple occasions just to gather information, including the name of your perfume so he could buy it to spray on his pillow.
Zandik had a history of breaking into a lot of people’s rooms to sabotage manuscripts, plant evidence for expulsion, or to gather damning information to pocket for another time if needed. You were a target because he found out about your multiple enrollments from Sohreh’s diary entries.
As he lay on his bed with his eyes glued to your picture, he thought of this one time he broke into your room. You weren’t supposed to be there. He tricked the lock and eased himself inside like always. He found you passed out with ink spilt across your desk, ruining the paper you spent almost two weeks writing.
He sighed as he uncorked a sedative liquid, setting the opening just beneath your nose. A few breaths and you wouldn’t wake up even if another Cataclysm happened right that moment. He couldn’t risk you finding him as he rummaged through your things. Though truly, he didn’t want to murder a potential tool. Not now.
Zandik paused as he reached the drawer with your journal he opened so many times before. His gaze returned to you. Ink dripped onto the floor and he felt…He didn’t know what he felt. He didn’t have a name for it. He struggled now to recall the emotion because it was so flat, as if such things weren’t meant for him. He remembered his actions, but he doesn’t understand why he did them to this day.
He cleaned the ink off your arm and cheek before getting you to your bed. His gaze lingered on you, sleeping peacefully and he wondered if you might dream with how deeply you slept. You weren’t from Sumeru, so maybe you did dream. Was he there? Was he boring and dull? Were you both happy with disgustingly normal lives? Did his dream version have the capability to return the love you sought?
Zandik’s original purpose was to read your journal for insights into your life and academic progress. He wanted to see if you were the rumored exceptional student and if you had potential in his future research. The Akasha remained blank on any finds about you, and it infuriated him slightly. Hence why he sought out your private thoughts so long ago.
He had his answer, but he continued to invade your personal space because he liked reading about himself from your perspective. It was all wrong because the version of him you wrote about didn’t exist. Yet, he found amusement in the way you doted on him. He spent time in your room because he felt unofficially invited. Afterall, the way you wrote about him recently made him understand why people enjoyed occasional erotic romance novels.
You were at his mercy every visit and he could do anything to you. The power dynamic was always his favor and yet he never acted. He spent the evening cleaning spilled ink and rewriting the ruined pages for your paper. He didn’t sabotage it as he went. He found himself fixing a portion for your benefit. This led him to look over the rest of the paper, and it was obvious where you became delirious from lack of sleep. He corrected your ramblings and left the paper neatly in the middle of your desk for you to find in the morning.
Before leaving, he checked on you. Made sure your vitals were decent in this stage of sleep. He noticed your hands were somewhat clammy which meant tomorrow when you grabbed Tahchin for brunch, he’d be at the Bazar before you, making sure the chef added medicine to your food.
This was the first “decent” act he did for someone. He rationalized it by telling himself it was all for his benefit. Everything he did was for his benefit. Keeping you healthy meant he could use you later.
Use you…
His eyes glazed over as he became lost in a new fantasy. His smooth hand slowly pumped along his length as he pictured himself breaking into your room. He purposefully made sure you were in your quarters sound asleep. You trusted him completely and you were such a fool for it.
You didn’t hear him walk through your tiny apartment and you didn’t feel him get into bed. He eased onto his side, facing you while you remained turned away, fast asleep. He held his body against yours until he wanted you to feel all the trouble you caused. Greedy hands worked their way between your legs and lifted your thighs as warm fingers traced along what he wanted to claim so badly. He slid them further, finding purchase in the precious pearl atop your entrance. You began to stir. Your body reacted slowly as gentle touches became aggressive. His leaking tip prodded your slit, attempting to bully itself inside.
You’d wake up feeling good, but confused. Perhaps you’d fight because you didn’t know who was touching you, but when you turned to see him, the surprise would fade and complete acceptance would take its place. Just like with the tea this evening. Rejecting him would led to regret and you wouldn’t want to feel that about someone you worshiped.
He granted you your written fantasy. You’d grind into his fingers, and you’d become so wet the scent would permeate the air. He’d become feral as he sheathed himself inside of you, grunting from just how perfect you felt wrapped around him.
“Zandik!”
Yes, he could hear the way you said his name as he claimed you for the first time. The ecstasy and aroused bliss of your moans. His name fought from your throat, and he was equally lost in this sweet bliss as he reached out to wrap a strong hand around your neck.
“Keep fucking yourself on me,” he growled as you moved with him. Each thrust and flick brought you closer to the edge as your vision blurred. He was with you and he wanted to make sure you took all he had. And you would, because you were so good for him. You didn’t fight him off. You accepted him in that moment, and you’d accept every drop right into your womb. He’ll give you medicine to cleanse your body tomorrow, but for now he’ll bury his seed. Afterall, he knew your cycle and you were ready. He enjoyed the control of creating life and ending it while you remained his precious vessel for such purges. Only gods controlled such matters, and he was certainly your god.
The image of your shared climax and the successful conception it brought was vivid in his mind. He arched his back on his mattress and felt warmth spill across his hand. Each surge through his length brought more because this act wasn’t something he did often. It served no purpose, but he couldn’t help himself tonight. He knew all about you and yet you made his body betray him.
He breathed heavily as his eyes lingered on your picture a bit longer. His lap was a mess, but he found himself feeling something abnormal. It was soft. Yes, he got off to this nonconsensual fantasy where he purposefully took advantage of you during a prime part of your cycle. He didn’t feel bad about his imagination, but now…he wanted to lay next to you. Praise you for your obedience. Maybe…clean you up and get you a hot cup of tea.
“After care?” he muttered as he tried to understand what these thoughts meant. “Not just sex. After care too. What are you doing to me?”
He looked to his right at the second pillow on his bed. That was the one he doused in your perfume. He smelt it faintly and wanted nothing more than to smother his face in it. However, doing so meant creating a bigger mess. He hated laundry with a passion.
Zandik huffed as he reached for a towel near his bedside table. He wiped away what he could before rising to rinse himself off appropriately. After a proper bath, he face-planted into that pillow and held it close.
If only it were you.