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Throughout your life here in the cult of Wisdom and War, you never exactly sought out knowledge or battle. Never understood the point of it, either. Often, you turned to ignorance rather than to seek out and understand things you did not know.
Truth be told, you were afraid, but mostly lazy. It was a trait that most fellow cult members did not like about you. You worked quick and efficiently though, and that was enough to redeem yourself.
Besides, it’s not like they could judge you too openly anyway, as you worked directly under Bishop Shamura, and they did not take well to members looking down on the ones they chose to serve under them. You don’t feel honored about it, you were all expendable under the Bishop of War.
Tending to the flowers in Shamura’s office (though it seems more like a throne room then anything else), you snip at the smallest of the Camellia’s, storing them in a small box (as requested of Shamura, you are not sure why they ask you to do this.)
It was a lovely pot, where these flowers were stored in, and often you lost yourself in the intricate designs. You let a hand brush at the figures, letting yourself trail up and towards a Camellia petal.
“Ah, hello, Y/n.” You yank your arm away hastily, turning yourself around to face the towering Bishop. Shamura stands at the entrance of the office, their face lost in thought, as they always are. You’re sure they aren’t even all there to fully acknowledge your presence.
It is still quite strange, though– how do they always manage to remember your name?
Still, you bow your head down, hands coming to cross with each other to hide the way they tremble before Shamura.
“Good evening, my Leader… how are you today?” Shamura hums, and you hear the way they silently make their way across the entrance and towards their desk. You let your head up a bit, if only to keep track on what your leader was doing. Still, you wait for them to say something.
You watch silently as they sit and tap their sharp fingers on the desk, eyes fogged over in thought. You glance at the Camellia pot, then dart your eyes back to Shamura, specifically their tapping claws. After a minute, you return to your task. It seems that today Shamura would not indulge in conversation.
You continue to snip at the flowerpot, eventually leading to the last flower being trimmed. Quietly, you store the small bunch neatly into the small, black box, closing the lid with a quiet click. You move the box forward, letting it be right in front of the pot. You take a step back, making sure you did not leave any mess behind.
You turn to face Shamura, who is now scribbling something on a scroll of some sorts. They say something under their breath, but you’re too far away to hear what they say. You bow your head again.
“I’ve finished my task, Leader, I will be leaving now.” You turn to make your way out of their room. Your hand doesn’t even get to touch the cold handle of the door, as their soft, hissing voice stops you in your tracks.
“You’ve one more thing to do… come.” The clicking of their claws on table stop, and you turn around hastily, quickening your steps towards them. You stand in front of their desk, and once again, you hold your own hands to hide the shaking.
“What do you desire of me, Great One?” You ask lowly, carefully, and Shamura turns their head towards you fully. You quiver, and they raise an arm slowly, pointing it to their head.
“Replace my bandages.”
The room is silent, and you feel as if time is stopped. Shamura does not say anything after that. You know the leader does not joke, but their statement still takes you back. You recover quickly, shaking your head rapidly and pointing at yourself.
“I… but– my Leader, are you sure?–”
“Is there a problem?” Shamura hisses nonchalantly, their voice caressing your ears. You shake your head quickly.
“No! Of course not, my Leader. Pardon my opinion, but I feel as if I am too underqualified to be assigned such a task! Would Witness Allocer not be more fitting for the task? I…” You stutter over your own voice, only stopping when you feel Shamura’s stare dig into your soul. Once they know you will not say anything else, they begin again.
“You underestimate yourself, Y/n,” You swear upon the Gods that you are simply being delusional, but Shamura's voice carries an edge of amusement. "I trust you with this task."
Their statement leaves no room for objections, and you nod, swallowing hard as you approach Shamura cautiously. The Bishop sits still, their posture regal and commanding as ever. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling hands as you reach for the bandages wrapped around their head.
You almost send yourself flying backwards with how hard you flinch, as Shamura leans down, their head now under your chin. Fortunately enough, they do not notice, and you let out a sigh of relief. From your point of view, it seemed like they were bowing down to you, and you slap away at such a thought.
Carefully, you reach out again, your fingers grazing the edge of the bandages wrapped around Shamura's head. Their breath catches slightly, a barely perceptible reaction that sends a shiver down your spine– You pull back as if you have been stung.
“Leader! I have not hurt you, have I?” Gods, you hope you didn’t.
Shamura simply hums, though you can't help but notice the intensity in their gaze, a subtle hint of something more lingering beneath the surface. You try to push aside the thought, focusing instead on the task at hand.
“..Continue.” Shamura says, and you blink. You take a deep breath, and carefully, you begin unwrapping them, revealing the wound beneath.
It's an unsettling sight, the rawness of it contrasting sharply with Shamura's composed demeanor. You shake a bit when your hand comes in contact with the last wrapped bandage, and you feel… unnerving softness. Too soft to be a skull.
Shamura’s brain.
You force yourself to focus, pushing past your discomfort as you work past removing the dirtied bandages. Shamura is humming, as if there was no problem with letting you be near their wound. To you, this felt too vulnerable, too intimate...
..What did this feel like for Shamura?
You feel a nudge, and you look down to see Shamura holding out fresh cloth. Gently, you take it from their hands. Their breath hitches again, when you wrap the first layer across their head. You can’t even imagine how strange, how painful, it must be to have even the smallest gust of air hit your most intricate organ. Perhaps, your leader has grown accustomed to it. You hope.
You can feel the weight of their gaze on you, intense and unwavering as you work, and you bite your lip, hoping you won’t mess up. You’re almost done. You try to work quickly, keeping mind of not applying too much pressure over their brain, but tight enough keep them from falling off.
Finally, you step back, your hands trembling slightly. Shamura remains silent, their gaze unreadable as they examine your handiwork. You hold your breath, waiting for their judgment.
.. After an long, agonizing minute, Shamura hums again.
“Good, good, yes. You did well, Y/n.” You nod in acknowledgement, and in your mind, you dance with joy. You get to live another day!
The thought is ripped away as fast as it came from you when you feel two, large claws take a solid grip of your chin, yanking you up towards Shamura. They sit tall now, new bandages replaced by old ones. They lean closer and you freeze. Red eyes look over your face, and their hand tilts you from side to side. You let them, nervous of what they would do if you refused to move with them.
“Always so hesitant, so uncertain.” Shamura’s voice is low, a soft rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. How do you respond to this?
“L.. Leader?!-” Their claws are sharp against your skin, a reminder of their power and dominance. The way they look at you,as if they're seeing you for the first time, really seeing you, and the intensity of their gaze leaves you feeling exposed.
“Do you fear me?” they inquire, their voice barely above a whisper. You can feel the heat of their breath against your skin, sending a flush of warmth spreading across your cheeks.
You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond, unsure of how to speak. Fear, yes, yes you did fear Shamura, but…
But before you can answer, Shamura leans in closer, their fangs brushing against your ear. You feel hot.
“Or perhaps,” they murmur, their voice sending a thrill of… something, through you, “you fear what you desire?”
Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding erratically as you struggle to make sense of Shamura's words. What? What?? Are you dreaming right now???
You remain very still, not sure of what to do. You don’t have enough time to dwell on it further, Shamura releases their grip on your chin, pulling away and leaving you feeling strangely empty.
“You may go now, Y/n,” they say, their voice betraying nothing of the moment you two shared.
Like a robot, you nod your head stiffly, and you turn to leave, your mind racing with thoughts, and yet not thinking at all.
As you step out of Shamura's chamber, you find yourself in a daze, your mind swirling with confusion and uncertainty. The encounter with Shamura has left you reeling, unsure of what to make of their cryptic words. You dash past members and friends, ignoring their calls of your name as you make yourself quickly to your room. You slam your door shut. You sit on the floor, back against the foot of your bed, hugging your knees.
Fearing what you desired? What did Shamura mean by their words? The questions buzz in your mind like a swarm of bees, relentless and unyielding. Too much goes on in your head, you’re unable to focus on anything else as you replay the encounter over and over again in your mind, searching for answers that seem to slip through your fingers like grains of sand.
Though, as dreadful as it felt in the moment, you didn’t… not like it.
… You grab your pillow and let out a quiet, muffled scream against it.
Will it happen again?