Fic: Ebb And Flow (The Collector/Futomimi, PG)
Title: Ebb and Flow
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Pairing: The Collector/Futomimi
Rating: PG for mild slash
Dedication: Happy Christmas nyxmidnight!
Summary: All elements have their strengths and weaknesses; Futomimi longs for water's.
Mifunashiro is more than a place of birth for the manikins. It is sacred; and with good reason, being one of the only places in the whole of the vortex world where there is more to the ebb and flow of life than the energy they all feed upon - the ebb and flow is accompanied, matched, by the swirl and crash of water.
Futomimi's memories of the world before the vortex are hazy, and he has suspicions as to why given his head aches whenever he gives it too much consideration, but certain safer memories are clear. He remembers water, remembers what it is capable of; remembers it falling from the very sky.
Futomimi remembers rain, and misses it for the simplest of reasons; it does not exist here. The vortex world does not know rain, and is as dry and barren as the deserts he never visited in the old world.
He could choose anywhere to meditate, truth be told, but is always drawn to the same spot; the water on his skin is soothing, turning him into something closer to the mud doll he knows himself to be than an irritable creature of sand. Strange that he does not wash away beneath the waterfall, but he knows his kind are held together by more than mud; they are held together by will, by the simple desire to keep existing.
The will pulses beneath his skin, giving him life as surely as blood ever gave life to his former body, but his mind swiftly switches to shadow and pain when he thinks of blood for more than a fleeting moment, and he lets himself drift away from that thought.
If he is to meditate, he needs to clear his mind of all else and concentrate on what he truly wishes to consider. His people. Their future.
He has seen what will happen in visions but he would do anything to avoid that, gives every last ounce of energy to thinking of ways to avoid so terrible a fate. He does not have much time left, so it does not feel like a sacrifice.
The Collector comes for him some time later; he does not feel the passing of time down here, is not exposed to the light of kagutsuchi and therefore allows its effects to slide. As ever, the Collector is enthusiastic in a manner that puzzles Futomimi, energy flooding him as if his old form had never been still for a moment. The Collector certainly does not know stillness. "What are you doing?"
Futomimi would have thought that obvious from his position, but smiles for a moment regardless before opening his eyes and looking up. "Considering our future."
"Huh," The Collector replies. "Good? Anyway. Naoki's coming over, thought you'd like to have a word."
Futomimi tilts his head and frowns; Mifunashiro is sacred to his people. And certainly, Naoki is no demon - no true demon, anyway - but that does not mean he has permission to enter their lands. "What does he want?"
"Don't know. Can't wait to finish setting up the shop, though, I've got so much stuff he's gonna love, and he might sell me things! Human things!"
Futomimi wishes he could smile again, share the Collector's happiness at something so simple, but it isn't within him to forgive anyone attempting to breach the walls of Mifunashiro. The manikins have so little; what they have they must hold onto. They cannot hope to forge a Reason without something solid to call their own; he would defend Mifunashiro to the death on account.
He'll have words with Naoki to make that much quite clear.
The Collector isn't too happy with him afterwards for his abrupt treatment of Naoki, but it was a necessity. Moreover, he knows no wrong holds weight with the Collector for long; his friend is easily distracted by the simplest of trinkets, provided humans were involved in its production somewhere along the line.
He has the Collector brought to him, endures the scolding for only a few moments before he loosens from his belt the reason he'd had the Collector summoned and presents it.
"Wow," announces the Collector with a huge grin. No surprise there - it's one of the largest human artefacts to survive intact. Futomimi wonders if the Collector remembers its purpose or if he's been too distracted by his pursuit of all things human to recall that he used to be one as well; wonders after that if maybe he's the one unusual for having memories, however vague, of his past.
The Collector wields the umbrella like a weapon before discovering the button to open it up, and thereafter Futomimi spends half his time ducking increasingly wild swings.
"This is awesome!"
"I thought it would please y-" Futomimi begins before the Collector cuts him off with a kiss, the metal tips of the umbrella spiking against his back slightly with the embrace but easy enough to overlook. "You," he finishes when the Collector pulls back.
"You are the best friend ever," the Collector says, before adding, "Except maybe Naoki. One of the best friends ever. You're great."
He wanders off, swinging the umbrella as he goes and injuring a few other manikins on the way by accident, but seeming happy enough about it.
Futomimi wonders if it would be worth explaining to the Collector that kissing isn't normally part of being a best friend, and decides against it. He suspects the Collector blanks out social rules for the same reason he opts to blank out his memories. It makes life easier; allows it to slip and slide more comfortably. Natural lubricant.
Futomimi looks to the waterfalls once more and hopes that some day he might learn to mimic that combination of flexibility and strength.
The End
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Pairing: The Collector/Futomimi
Rating: PG for mild slash
Dedication: Happy Christmas nyxmidnight!
Summary: All elements have their strengths and weaknesses; Futomimi longs for water's.
Mifunashiro is more than a place of birth for the manikins. It is sacred; and with good reason, being one of the only places in the whole of the vortex world where there is more to the ebb and flow of life than the energy they all feed upon - the ebb and flow is accompanied, matched, by the swirl and crash of water.
Futomimi's memories of the world before the vortex are hazy, and he has suspicions as to why given his head aches whenever he gives it too much consideration, but certain safer memories are clear. He remembers water, remembers what it is capable of; remembers it falling from the very sky.
Futomimi remembers rain, and misses it for the simplest of reasons; it does not exist here. The vortex world does not know rain, and is as dry and barren as the deserts he never visited in the old world.
He could choose anywhere to meditate, truth be told, but is always drawn to the same spot; the water on his skin is soothing, turning him into something closer to the mud doll he knows himself to be than an irritable creature of sand. Strange that he does not wash away beneath the waterfall, but he knows his kind are held together by more than mud; they are held together by will, by the simple desire to keep existing.
The will pulses beneath his skin, giving him life as surely as blood ever gave life to his former body, but his mind swiftly switches to shadow and pain when he thinks of blood for more than a fleeting moment, and he lets himself drift away from that thought.
If he is to meditate, he needs to clear his mind of all else and concentrate on what he truly wishes to consider. His people. Their future.
He has seen what will happen in visions but he would do anything to avoid that, gives every last ounce of energy to thinking of ways to avoid so terrible a fate. He does not have much time left, so it does not feel like a sacrifice.
The Collector comes for him some time later; he does not feel the passing of time down here, is not exposed to the light of kagutsuchi and therefore allows its effects to slide. As ever, the Collector is enthusiastic in a manner that puzzles Futomimi, energy flooding him as if his old form had never been still for a moment. The Collector certainly does not know stillness. "What are you doing?"
Futomimi would have thought that obvious from his position, but smiles for a moment regardless before opening his eyes and looking up. "Considering our future."
"Huh," The Collector replies. "Good? Anyway. Naoki's coming over, thought you'd like to have a word."
Futomimi tilts his head and frowns; Mifunashiro is sacred to his people. And certainly, Naoki is no demon - no true demon, anyway - but that does not mean he has permission to enter their lands. "What does he want?"
"Don't know. Can't wait to finish setting up the shop, though, I've got so much stuff he's gonna love, and he might sell me things! Human things!"
Futomimi wishes he could smile again, share the Collector's happiness at something so simple, but it isn't within him to forgive anyone attempting to breach the walls of Mifunashiro. The manikins have so little; what they have they must hold onto. They cannot hope to forge a Reason without something solid to call their own; he would defend Mifunashiro to the death on account.
He'll have words with Naoki to make that much quite clear.
The Collector isn't too happy with him afterwards for his abrupt treatment of Naoki, but it was a necessity. Moreover, he knows no wrong holds weight with the Collector for long; his friend is easily distracted by the simplest of trinkets, provided humans were involved in its production somewhere along the line.
He has the Collector brought to him, endures the scolding for only a few moments before he loosens from his belt the reason he'd had the Collector summoned and presents it.
"Wow," announces the Collector with a huge grin. No surprise there - it's one of the largest human artefacts to survive intact. Futomimi wonders if the Collector remembers its purpose or if he's been too distracted by his pursuit of all things human to recall that he used to be one as well; wonders after that if maybe he's the one unusual for having memories, however vague, of his past.
The Collector wields the umbrella like a weapon before discovering the button to open it up, and thereafter Futomimi spends half his time ducking increasingly wild swings.
"This is awesome!"
"I thought it would please y-" Futomimi begins before the Collector cuts him off with a kiss, the metal tips of the umbrella spiking against his back slightly with the embrace but easy enough to overlook. "You," he finishes when the Collector pulls back.
"You are the best friend ever," the Collector says, before adding, "Except maybe Naoki. One of the best friends ever. You're great."
He wanders off, swinging the umbrella as he goes and injuring a few other manikins on the way by accident, but seeming happy enough about it.
Futomimi wonders if it would be worth explaining to the Collector that kissing isn't normally part of being a best friend, and decides against it. He suspects the Collector blanks out social rules for the same reason he opts to blank out his memories. It makes life easier; allows it to slip and slide more comfortably. Natural lubricant.
Futomimi looks to the waterfalls once more and hopes that some day he might learn to mimic that combination of flexibility and strength.
The End