Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a grass plain, unnoticeable by any pair of eyes, sit two men on across each other. A tea table separating the two.

“It tastes awful.”

Was Mingrui’s thought, his fingers keeping the small cup steady near his face.

“It’s not meant to taste like anything.” His company shot back, a sliver of amusement slipping from ‘his’ own cup.

“Does it?” Mingrui asked, trying to prove a point, “does it truly not taste like anything?”

“Well, we are able to taste it.” The man reasoned, “Normally it’s meant to be tasteless.” 

“Yes~ and our tastebuds are now different,” he scoffs, a smirk blooming on his lips, “tasting even tasteless things.” His words seeming to hold more meaning than one.

Mingrui set the cup down, uninterested in further shots of the awful taste of ‘tasteless’ vodka. He wonders whether his opinion over this beverage would have been different prior to godhood.

He doubts it…

Mingrui can take his spice, as he ought to, but vodka lacked much flavour and he didn’t commit to flavourless spice.

“You don’t want to drink anymore?” 

Mingrui’s head turned towards the laughter. 

Grisha was having the time of his life chuckling away at Mingrui’s begrudging. As if this was some ‘comedic’ performance so impressive it could make even a deity laugh.

“I don’t care for it.” He simply stated, letting his indifference towards the drink shine as much as it can. 

“Do you care for a cigar then?” Grisha offered one up, one of those old fat cigars old men smoked in movies. Them being another thing he picked up from the historical void, along with Grisha’s favoured vodka. It had been quite the challenge, he adds, bringing forth whatever the other man requested, more-so because he wouldn’t stop nitpicking on their quality.

“I don’t smoke.”

“If there’s ever a time to start-“ he puts one on his mouth, the tip lighting up immediately. “It’s when the chances of lung cancer is nonexistent.” He huffs a cloud of smoke, the fat cigar pinched between his fingers.

“You must’ve been close.” Mingrui blurted specks of laughter coming out along with it.

Grisha too followed with a chortle of his own, the joke seemingly resonating with him.

“Very~ close.” He hummed in agreement. “Thank the Chaos Sea for saving this poor man’s soul.”

“What a kind hearted sefirot…” Mingrui grinned.

“Say… what was it like?”

“Chaos sea?”

“Yes.”

Grisha took a moment to whiff at his cigar, acting as if he was competing his response.

“I wasn’t exactly conscious, but I could illustrate it for you.” He offered sincerely.

“With pictures?”

“You want a whole documentary?” Grisha threw his head back resounding with that rich man laugh. “A documentary on the inner workings of the Chaos sea…”

“The truth will drive you mad…” Mingrui added in fun.

“There’s a lot of colours, outside and inside of man’s ability to see. There are colours lighter than the whitest of white and darker than the blackest of black.” He began narrating. “Every shade has a sound of their own — a taste of their own. They evoke any emotion or sensation able to be felt, and even ones human’s themselves cannot feel…”

“I always imagined it would look like a — fever dream.”

“It does.” Grisha smiled. “But not a dream ever to  be had.”

“I’m assuming it could offer the opposite too.”

“Hm?” Grisha hummed in askance.

“Emotions… it’s safe to assume it grants a sort of clarity-“

“Clarity, reason, numbness and all mysteries of the mind.” He listed. “And madness, the Chaos sea has the ability to corrode the psyche — and the body too.”

“Do you see my hair?”

“Blonde roots, black ends.” Flowing down to his shoulders.

“Corrosion from the Chaos Sea.”

“With all those colours… it could have — the Chaos sea I mean — it could have dyed your hair in a prism of colours.”

“Like a rainbow?”

“Quite!” Mingrui affirmed. “The colours of a rainbow, like that of — I can’t quite recall — from that children’s show with the horses.”

“Horses?”

“The colourful ones, with unicorns and flying horses.”

“Ah… my little… pony?”

“Yes!” Mingrui burst into laughter. “Yes, yes! Like the pony with a rainbow mane.”

More laughter followed after, the two so amused at the thought of rainbow hair. The tress tussled under an unknown force, the grass dancing by the tune of an unseen wind. The world itself reacting to their mirth.

“You were blonde originally, right?”

“Blonde, pale skin, blue eyed.” Grisha noted, already on his last cigar. “The slavic trifecta.” 

“Did the Chaos sea bleach your eyes too?”

That earned Mingrui another laugh.

“Look at that ~ I’m already out cigars. A-Ming be a dear and pick out another packet for me.”

“You can’t be serious.” Mingrui felt appalled. “Shouldn’t nicotine lack any effect on you?”

“It’s not the nicotine it’s the nostalgia.” 

“Nostalgia… the greatest drug of them all.”

“Come A-Ming just one, I promise.”

‘He could be lying…’ he as well could be lying…

“Since I preach reciprocity — I should expect some sort of trade for this pack of cigars, no?”

“Isn’t my company well enough?”

“I’m not so~ desperate Grisha.” Mingrui chuckled.

“We can just share the cigars?”

“They’re my projections! And I don’t smoke.”

“Come now, friend! It’s bad etiquette to leave a man to smoke on his own.”

“No, thank you.” Mingrui cited. “But you best be paying me back.”

His pale hand reached into the historical void, reaching for a now familiar pack of cigars. He swiftly brings them out setting them down on the tea table with a thump.

“These don’t even cost you much.” Grisha scoffed his fingers nonetheless reaching out to open the pack.

“It’s been seven packets, and counting,”

“How petty~ A-Ming.”

Mingrui looked at Grisha, his hands interlocked under his chin.

“Now… won’t you do me a favour, Grishenka?”

”…”

”Gri…shenka…?”

That last part seemed to earn Mingrui the other’s attention.

Was it so unprecedented?

”Grishenka…?” His friend chuckled, testing and rolling each syllable. “How do you know of that?”

”Historical void, Grisha. Don’t think I use it only for your alcohol on cigars.”

”Hahahaha!!!”

“You should start calling me that.”

“Not happening.”

If Grisha liked the nickname as to the contrary — disliking it — Mingrui would not be use it.

”I wish you would defer to me as ‘Grishenka’ from now on.”

”Wish denied…”

”Haaa~ shame, shame…”

“Now as for that favour.” Mingrui steered the conversation away.

”You won’t ask me of something detrimental, won’t you?”

”For seven cigar packets and a few packs of vodka? Honestly…”

”Well what do you want to ask of me? Anchors? An artefact? Know I won’t hold out on you.”

“Give me your entire court with the palace combined, why don’t you?”

”If you so desire…”

”Enough jest, Grisha.” Mingrui shook his head in amusement. “I’m only asking you a small favour, one between friends.”

”Say it then, don’t leave me under suspense.”

“I need you…”

”Need me to what?”

…

”I…”

…

”What was I…?”

…

”I need you too…”

”Need me to what?”

”Craft me a sun.”

“You want me to make you a son?”

”… Why do I think you’re thinking of something else?”

”Miniture sun… all right for how long do you want it to last?”

”Forever.”

”If I die, it too will die.”

”Who says you’ll die?”

”…”

”Fine…”

“Give me a sun that shines until the day you die.”

Chapter Text

“I have to say my palace is of much more opulence.” Grisha said, his fingers running down the ruined pillar. 

“The giant palace for giants?” Mingrui teased suddenly. “The one made by giants? The one you didn’t make yourself?”

“You’ve made your point.” His friend huffed, the corners of his lips creasing into a smile. “Yet mine still stands.”

“Because the Giant King’s Court is bigger?” He asked. “Is that it?”

“You’d understand if you visited.” Grisha offered spreading his arms. “It’s grand, it’s great, it’s — divine!”

“Ugh…”

“No pun intended, hahahaha.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Are you so averse to meeting my angels?”Grisha chuckled. “They won’t bite.”

“You’re right, they won’t. But I might.”

“…”

‘That was a little cringe…’ Mingrui thought, embarrassed such words came out of him.

Grisha was silent for a moment, thinking of the prospect. Thankfully not taking to mind the uncharacteristic response Mingrui had made.

“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea, would it.”

“…”

It was this weird little tingle that made Mingrui think Grisha wasn’t worried about his angels…

But if not so… then what changed his mind?

“On second thought, I rather like our little excursions — with just the two of us.”

Turning his head away from Grisha, he set his sights once again on the ruins of Sonia.

Perhaps not as impressive in scale as the home of giants, the courtyards of Soniathrym were awe inspiring in another sort of way. ‘His’ great palace was built to resemble a high fountain, built upon the highest hill, overlooking the sea by the west. You could almost see the northern continent, Mingrui thought.

Today it stood shattered but once upon a time, before their ‘less than normal’ extinction, these high blue limestone walls had waterfalls dropping from the top all the way to the bottom. They would turn into god made rivers flowing across the island… nourishing the land and the elves that lived on it.

“It’s like a… combination of… so many things…”

“The architecture?”

“Yes.” Mingrui looked back at Grisha. “Sure, there are eastern elements, but it’s infused with so many other cultures…”

“Greek, roman, Egyptian…” His friend listed.

“And European — this fountain - erm city looks like a mashup of a European castle with the hanging gardens of Babylon.”

“I thought so too when I saw it.” Grisha related. “It’s also divided into inner rings and outer rings, by class.”

“And what’s up with this limestone.” He knocked on it. “Why’s everything blue?”

“Hahaha~ the elves must have loved their blue. Did you notice all the serpents carved on them.”

“The sea serpents… and so many eels…”

“The perfect national animal for the elven folk.”

“Hahahahahahaha.”

“Hahahahahahaha.”

They both laughed, simultaneously. 

“Speaking of eels, ah… I haven’t eaten one in so long.” Mingrui noted, his mind going back to the taste of such delicacy.

“We could catch one.” Grisha caught up to him, stomping on the ground as if to make his point.“The waters here are infested with them.”

“The beyonder kind you mean…” Mingrui smiled. “They don’t taste the same I recon.”

“That leaves the historical void.” His friend laughed, the inside joke immediately resonating with the both of them.

“Hahahahaha… my ever abused ability.” Mingrui exclaimed in exasperation. “If we keep doing this, history will be bereft of everything.”

“Do you think… every time we lost something, or someone else did, it was because a scholar of yore summoned it.”

“So I stole my own glasses…?”

Both knew that was incorrect. The historical void provided the scholar of yore with a historical projection, not quite the real thing. But both were wroth to invalidate the joke. No matter how outlandish.

“What did a scholar of yore need all of my toilet paper?!” Grisha whined.

“Pfft!” 

“It clearly must have been you.” He hit Mingrui’s shoulder lightly in jest.

“Nonesense! I would steal my own toilet paper.”

The part where he didn’t need to excrete was left unsaid…

“It seems we’ve made it to the top.”

Mingrui looked on by the cliff side, the wind hitting his face. It was a beautiful sight. One shared every day by people now long dead.

“You are saddened.” Grisha remarked, and when Mingrui turned his head to look at him, the other’s eyes were already on him.

“I can’t say I am.” He answered evenly. “This culture, these — people, they aren’t the ones I left behind. I feel nothing towards them.”

“But?”

“But pity.”

Grisha looked towards the sea, his dual coloured hair flailing like his own.

“Is it pity? Or just… bearly.”

“I’m loathe to come up with words for emotions I cannot recognise.” Mingrui chuckled shaking his head. “I am no inventor, no philosopher… I may no longer be just a man, but in mind, that’s what I call myself.”

“Hm.” Grisha nodded. “We convince ourselves of the wrongest things, because truly thinking about something is too tiring and too… depressing.” He began. “I am singular, and yet… telling myself that everyday numbs my soul.”

“I thought we said we wouldn’t talk about these things anymore.” Mingrui chirped, a wide grin bracing his face.

“You were the one who started it.” Grisha laughed in response. “Getting all melancholic~.”

“You could have lightened up the mood with a joke!” He scoffed. “Instead you made us both more depressed.”

“Fine then! Knock knock!”

“Oh dear… who’s there?”

“We.”

“We who?”

“We are here to inform you of your car’s extend warranty.”

“No!!! That is lame~ beyond lame!”

“You never said it had to be good.”

“Jokes are meant to be funny!”

“As long as one of the two parties is happy.”

“Well!” Mingrui spoke. “You should get on with it.”

“We could wait a bit longer, if you want.” His friend offered him.

“No, we’ve stalled for long enough.” Mingrui concluded.

At his words, a rumble sounded from beneath the hill. The tremor becoming rougher and destabilising the hill, shards of rock from the cliff beginning to fall off. The quake only became stronger and soon the limestone walls cracked and shattered, the pillars holding up the roofs fell. The light-towers by the cliffs tumbled to the ground, the caves beneath caving in on themselves crushing the underground harbour and everything else.

In the distance a huge crack began to form around the hill, encompassing the entirety of Soniathrym’s court. The hill separated from the island and it began to collapse and sink…

Mingrui and Grisha stood floating above it all, having long since jumped off the highest tower.

“Our very own Atlantis…” Grisha joked.

Mingrui rewarded his jest with an amused laugh.

“After this…”

Mingrui turned to look at his partner, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

“Come to my palace.”

He gave Grisha an unamused look. “I thought we came to an agreement.”

“You won’t have to see any of my angels. It’s going to be just the two of us, like always.” He reasoned. “Besides~ I believe you are in dire need of followers.”

“I am not. I have plenty of them, and the entire spirit world.”

“Human followers who only worship you in secret, because the omniscient and omnipotent Lord somewhat tolerates it.” Grisha waved his hand. “I can offer you much more than this, as you deserve.”

“We’ve talked about this.” Mingrui crossed his arms, looking on to the sinking city. “I am fine as I am.”

“Ming-“

“I would appreciate you dropping this subject.” 

“As you wish.”

Mingrui sighed. “I do appreciate your offer, Grisha, I really do… but-“

“But?”

“What I have now is plenty enough.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

“As fun as this was — you should probably be going back. Leaving for this long shouldn’t be good for your angels.”

“They can cry for all I care.”

That earned Grisha a good push.

“Take responsibility.”

“They’re fine on their own.”

“Haven’t they prayed to you yet? You have been gone for over a year.”

“Hahahahahaha… those go through Sasrir.” Grisha smirked. “And as he hasn’t sent any my way they mustn’t be of great importance.”

“Tch you are awful…”

“Hahahahahaha!!!”

“If I was one of your angels, I would hate you.”

“If you were one of my angels…”

“Well?”

“…nevermind.”

“What? What were you going to say? Don’t leave me hanging!”

Chapter Text

“Mysteries…”

“…”

“You don’t favour being called that.”

It was a reasonable assumption.

Though Grisha couldn’t glean his displeasure off of ‘his’ face, ‘he’ could tell, below in the depths of ‘his’ soul ‘he’ could feel it.

No ‘feel’ is an — odd term to use here. Grisha would call it ‘intuition’.

Unfortunately, ‘his’ new ‘friend’ wasn’t eager to say anything about ‘himself’, nor express any amount of thought beyond still nothingness.

‘This man looks like a porcelain doll, doesn’t ‘he’?’

The thought was true, this ‘mysteries’ had a face unblemished, with no wrinkles nor folds. If a mortal being saw ‘him’ they would come to the conclusion it was a mask — a prosthetic — unable of movement nor expression. 

‘His’ eyes were pitch black with subtle stars cradled in the void; a constant state of spirit vision. Grisha wondered how ‘he’ would look like under their brilliant scrutiny…

And his hair! 

It was a resplendent ebony flowing like a lightless river… framing his lean form just so perfectly…

Grisha was no poet, but he could come up with all sorts of comparisons for this cosmic excellence.

“I am not ‘him’.” The beautiful doll replied in english without a hint of difference. Not even the mouth moved, the voice seemed to sound from the surrounding space instead, as if - ‘he’ used space to warp and pressure the air around them to sound out ‘his’ thoughts!!! 

So creative! 

So complicated!! 

And so very… melodramatic!!!

‘He’ didn’t need to do all of that to communicate now did ‘he’…?

Grisha gave the other pillar a nod as was ‘his’ due, acknowledging what ‘he’ had already confirmed.

Grisha had come to that assessment quite a while ago, between the many hours of the two Singularities sizing each other up. It was safe to assume the other too had come to a similar understanding about Grisha’s situation.

“You are asian? Where are you from?” 

The other seemed to contemplate whether to answer or not for a moment.

“China.”

This time ‘his’ answer came from ‘his’ own mouth, the word spilling seamlessly. Intriguingly, Grisha felt a sense of satisfaction brewing inside of ‘himself’. How odd it was to have such sensations still. To uphold a form of ‘happiness’ because of someone ‘he’ remotely felt — akin to…

Grisha contemplated greeting the now Lord of the Mysteries with a polite 你好… but that seemed like a bit too on the nose. And butchering the pronunciation would land ‘him’ in a lesser impression than ‘he’ was oughting to inspire.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

The other did not offer their name.

‘So cautious…’

“My name is Grisha.” He introduced himself first in an attempt to break the ice. “I am from Ukraine.”

Though this cold deity did not react to Grisha’s words, leading ‘him’ to think that the other perhaps had known of these details… on the contrary, no simple and swift divinations he could have done while in Grisha’s presence would have led ‘him’ towards such a conclusion. Grisha wasn’t careless. This dolled faced man simply did not react… was this perfect indifferent performance a part of one of the mysteries’ pathways. Grisha called back, this isn’t something Amanisis had informed ‘him’ of, neither had ‘he’ noticed such an ability tied to the error uniqueness as well as Gregrace…

That could only leave the first… the Fool pathway only gets more bizarre doesn’t it…?

“Zhou Mingrui.”

Grisha wondered what that name meant. The suspense only grew under ‘his’ curiosity and ‘he’ just couldn’t help gripping at the seams…

‘He’ will say it with certainty, there has never been another being that has caught ‘his’ eye so. 

A lord of the mysteries — half, but that didn’t matter — who had awoken from the depths of the sefirah castle and immediately took charge to effectively assert ‘himself’ in power without anyone being in the know! 

Almost anyone!

Grisha knew. A Fool may have ‘his’ vision impaired temporarily but not for long. That didn’t make the whole ordeal less — ridiculously exhilarating!!!!!

‘He’ couldn’t let go of the part where the retrieval of the Door pathway’s characteristics and uniqueness as well as the Fool’s sequence 0 characteristic was done so skilfully the world now believed that Grisha was the one who took them!

Not to mention the error uniqueness having been in ‘his’ possession since ‘he’ awoke in this era made it a reasonable connection.

It was seamless, it was perfect!

If Grisha was a mortal man, if Grisha was still that man, ‘he’ would have burst into a laughter that would have made the outworld’s fiends fall out of ‘their’ nests in shock!!!!

And while Grisha’s interest only kept on growing, Zhou Mingrui remained wholly uninterested in knowing the slightest thing about Grisha. To some lesser being with petulant pride, this would happen to be a great offence, ‘their’ wounded pride exploited and exaggerated by the other party through fooling would lead to a sure victory. Grisha on the other hand was no simple foe, ‘he’ had ‘his’ pride most definitely, but what others threatened with ‘their’ madness, Grisha had stability in spades. ‘He’ would not be strung upon a line.

To get to the point!

Grisha was fascinated, borderline captivated, by the entity before ‘him’. The aforementioned reasons above as well, but mostly — this being was ‘his’- Grisha’s equal!!!

And the simple thought of which bloomed a once forgotten blaze within ‘him’! To learn! To know! To understand!!! And not of laws and rules of mysticism and the like!

Another person, another being, one considered ‘his’ equal before anyone else!!! A stoic face of hidden cards and thoughts, one of competence and intelligence. No, no, no!!! This was no creature ‘he’ would mind making ones foe!! Not at all!!

To be enthralled once again into the unknown and to reap apart the world of its mysteries! To wonder and discover!!

Hahhahahahahha….

And ‘he’s’ called the Lord of mysteries… isn’t ‘he’…?

‘He’s’ perfect…

‘…’

Oh…

‘He’s’ getting ahead of himself. 

No fault found there, though, it was… pleasant to be presented a puzzle. A puzzle where ‘he’ ought to find the pieces first before attempting to assemble them into a bigger picture. ‘He’ has been starved of a good challenge… clearly.

In the coupled silence, Grisha had wondered at first whether this was a well structured farce. A play by the lor- former lord of the mysteries to cripple or even just put the primordial one’s chosen vessel at a disadvantage. Yet, the will of the primordial had not caught anything, the conclusions of which matched Grisha’s own. At least the ancient thing was of use sometimes, ‘he’ knew his eternal nemesis so very well.

In the end through a different set of analyses done parallel to his goading of the other to speak, ‘he’ had made the understandable conviction that this was a newly risen lord of mysteries.

Half, but who cares about the specifics.

‘He’ was the lord of mysteries to Grisha and that’s all that matters. And with ‘his’ support who in the world would refute it??? Hmmm????

The old monsters nesting inside ‘their’ bodies?! ‘Their’ opinions counted not!

But no.

Making a full lord of mysteries at this time was not good for ‘him’. In fact, it was incredibly risky and dangerous. It is why ‘he’ hadn’t tried to collect all the uniqueness’ and characteristics himself. It would spell disaster.

The other must have realised it too, precisely as to why ‘he’ wasn’t demanding the error uniqueness.

Even trying to become a lord of mysteries so quickly after awakening was risky. And it would have been stupid in any other circumstance.

But this Zhou Mingrui awoke as a sequence 1 with no anchors and a loose — supposed — god almighty out into the world. Who held the error uniqueness, reclaimed all his power, had the entire world for anchors… what a horrifying thing to wake up to.

Grisha could almost understand, he almost thought the lord of mysteries had awoken after all. What a fright!

Well… Grisha had contemplated killing ‘him’ — whether former or current pillar — retrieving the characteristics and uniquenesses and raising ‘his’ own lord of mysteries as ‘he’ had previously planned.

‘He’ was currently contemplating the opposite.

Grisha was a full pillar, ‘he’ did hold the error uniqueness and ‘he’ did have the entire world as ‘his’ anchors. Obviously ‘he’ held much this doll faced Zhou Mingrui needed.

And ‘he’ would happily oblige!

Not the uniqueness of course, hahahaha, ‘he’ would loathe to give that away. It was just so~ useful.

In comparison to the world-wind of thoughts going on in Grisha’s head, it hadn’t even been a second since Zhou Mingrui said ‘his’ name. All these thoughts having been completed before time could even catch up.

The mind of the ruler of the astral world was incomparable wasn’t it?

“We have much to discuss don’t we.” Grisha said after a moment. “Say, would you like to have some tea?”

Grisha couldn’t say whether ‘he’ cared for tea at this time, ‘he’ hasn’t drunken any in a lifetime, and ‘he’ was always a coffee guy anyway.

But it only seemed appropriate to act like a gentleman.

‘His’ lord of mysteries was deserving of it.