Reminder Set in Quartz

You’re awakened by a sharp pain in your shoulder. In the few seconds following your return to consciousness, you are assaulted by dozens of uncomfortable sensory signals from every part of your body, arms and back and stomach and legs.

With a groan, you blindly pat the bed in front of you. Soon enough, your fingers hit the sleeping body of Artoria (Caster, she who chants, your… your… you don’t know any word in any language to express what she is to you.) She’s laying on her side, legs folded. As she is not currently curled in the tightest ball known to man, you’re willing to bet she’s holding onto Oberon right now. That moth is strangely fond of sleeping in his chibi form.

You scoot closer to her, wrapping an arm around her midsection. She stirs- light sleeper, that one- but a quick kiss to her temple is enough to reassure her that she can go back to sleep. She doesn’t need to know about your discomfort. It’s not the first time you’re awoken by pain- especially not after sex.

Because here is a thing, about fairies of paradise:

Their bites fester.

Your shoulders. Your arms. Your chest. Anywhere Artoria sank her teeth- you can feel your flesh crystalizing, little dots of smoky quartz rooting inside of you.

The crystallization itself isn’t painful, mind you- well, not any more than any other sort of pain. When it reaches the muscle, though… it is a bit uncomfortable, you will admit, to have your body suddenly locked into position, to feel your tendons struggling to pull or relax against a block of stone. At least these gems embedded in your body do not stop the flow of blood. Small mercies, as one says.

Thankfully, these bouts of transformation never last for long. The first time it’d happened, you’d rushed to the bathroom in the middle of the night, eager to smear concealer on your skin to stop the dazzling shine of these gemstones from outing your crystallization- but you’ve learned now that these will rescind by morning. 

Artoria’s fingernails are another matter altogether. When she claws at you, you can feel it for days. The ache of an open wound, the itch of your body stitching itself together- and that song, that song, that song that comes not from the outside world but from the underneath of your skin, buzzing at the edges of her scratches as if begging to burrow itself further in.

Sometimes, you wonder. If you grabbed her hands and used her to claw yourself open, would you hear that song more clearly? Would she find that bell you keep hearing, buried in the curl of your intestines? If you followed that voiceless tune, could her hands drag out the rot in your soul?

You’ll never find out, of course, because she will never find out the full extent of what she does to you. And neither will Oberon, for that matter; for all his grand villain monologues about the consequences of laying with the worm of the abyss, you don’t think he’s aware of how much he affects you either. He knows his come is burning hot. He doesn’t know that it corrupts anything it touches. He knows your tongue becomes striped black after you suck him off. He doesn’t know that lying comes easier than ever afterwards. He doesn’t know that coming all over you gets your skin tingly for days, until scales start to grow. He doesn’t know what happens when he finishes inside of you. You don’t either. 

That’s fine, though. None of them are life-threatening, or even anything more than mildly inconveniencing. Your tongue always regains its natural color eventually. The scales… The scales don’t come off on their own, but you’ve become quite dexterous with a knife. As for the rest… your organs have yet to fail, so it can’t be that important. 

Of course, you could just be open about what this rough sex is doing to your body. Artoria would mind her teeth and nails afterwards for sure. Oberon would pretend to complain yet be the first one to buy condoms. It would be so easy. All you’d have to do is speak up. All you’d have to do is slip up.

You won’t. 

Artoria is a sword given form, a wild little animal in the shape of a girl, a prophesied hero, a fairy of prophecy. Oberon is a worm, a butterfly, a dragon, an endless abyss, the end of all things. And in spite of everything, in spite of all the resentment and love and pity you all feel for each other… they’re among the handful of people who remind you that you may be a master, a savior, but above all- you are a human.

This, too, is a reminder. One cannot become a monster if they are already one. One cannot become a sword if they are already one. If you can grow scales, if you can turn to quartz, if your body responds so strongly to these curses and blessings and injuries- then you must be a human. In spite of it all. In spite of it all. You are still human. Others may doubt that statement, may mistake you for something else, fairy or servant or beast, but you are human.

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