Author's Note
Wattpad tech issues made me sad so I'm circumventing it by... No clue, actually, but hopefully this works ÒwŌ?

This should be a two-parter! In which P1, the more OC-related part, is here and P2, the more Hermit-orientated part, is next: you don't need to read both to understand their stories, but you can if you want more context or just the other side of what's going on ;3

In any case... Welcome to P1 of the WWW.Wattpad.Why arc X3?

In which AC does some odd jobs, with intriguing reactions.

———

"Please."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleeeeease?"

"For Void's sake, AC!" PsychA snarled, spooking some small birds in a nearby tree. As said birds flew away, AC did not, instead kneeling down upon the floor, hands held in a begging gesture. Being at equal eye[s]-level could've helped their case more if PsychA wasn't so thoroughly unimpressed by their plea in the first place.

Thus, her reaction was a scoff. "I'm not helping you marry a self-centred, doctrine-obsessed, oversized peacock. Of all people! WhY ThAT ONe?!"

"Because he's cute!"

"YoU SaY tHAT eVerY-"

"And he cares!"

"I jUSt-"

"He does!" AC's voice was distorting a little. A new phenomenon, though one that subsided with a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. "Otherwise he wouldn't have said yes. I'm sure of it!"

"AC..."

"And this is essential to the plan. I'm just... Adjusting things a bit. Gotta make things over 100% assured, or else someone's going to find a problem with it. Soon though, everything will work out fine, and it'll be great because I can visit everyone anytime and give lots of-"

"Yeah I get the idea, don't want to picture like. Whatever-he-is being nice, I don't. It's not a blessed image." PsychA, long-suffering, sighed. "I hope you know it's because of him that I'm not saying yes, by the way. Nothing else. I'd find this hilarious usually, but he's what's ruining it."

"Could hardly tell."

"Har har."

"But really. I... Don't know who else I could ask for help. Particularly with the same qualification you have; you... Are kinda my go-to-ordainer for this exact reason..."

"I'm aware. Still think Pythrria's your coolest spouse so far."

"Pythrria's awesome. Though I'm no longer hearing a distinct 'no'... So should my hopes get raised?"

"Not... Fully." PsychA sighed again. Being the responsible one in any sort of situation was exhausting, how did EXy do this all the time? "I'll only do it under my conditions."

With glimmering eyes, AC nodded, sitting up straighter as best they could. PsychA went on. "I will ordain your new marriage and that is the only thing I'm doing for... Him. Do not ask for my help in any of your wooing, persuading, flirting, any of that. I'll make an exception for 'saving' and stuff, because I want an excuse to bite one of those feathery-"

"PsychA."

"Sorry, feathery 'things' arms off. Actually, I'll make an excuse for 'antagonising' too, because I will continue to antagonise both of them and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"I did not expect anything else."

"... And. Finally, I..." C'mon, before she changed her own mind. "I want to be there. At the... Wedding. To make sure nothing goes wrong." Before AC could get too excited, she added, "No one else is going and I want to make sure you're not sacrificed on an altar, or something."

"Because you care."

"Unfortunately. And because I'm going to have to meet them one way or another. Doesn't mean I'm going to be nice about it."

Knowing PsychA, she wasn't, no. Very much no. AC had been wondering how fair this compromise would really be, but that sounded like it balanced out rather well. "I'll... Warn them of that." They said, somewhat curious about how PsychA would react to their new siblings-in-law, and vice versa.

"Regardless. Thank you! So much. Thank you. I'll get everything else sorted, don't you worry: this is going to be an absolutely perfect wedding, and nothing is going to stand in my way of making that happen."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Shush."

———

"Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to leave."

Turning away from the fabrics they'd been testing, AC gave the shopkeeper a quizzical look. Or, they tried their best to convey that: from the way the shopkeeper's gaze kept flicking between several different sets of eyes, they weren't all that successful.

Regardless, it would not do to be incomprehensible when they weren't trying to be. Thus, AC cleared their throat (and the urge to do the weird reverb thing), and asked very politely, "What do you mean?"

"... I need you to... Leave the... Store."

"Ah. Apologises for not clarifying, in that case. What I mean to ask is: why me?" AC said, reaching a hand from the confines of their cloak to place over their maybe-heart. Once again, ignoring the way the shopkeeper's focus couldn't seem to stick to one set of eyes. "I have come to this establishment in much more raucous forms, especially immortal-form-wise. Why now should I be shunned from your services?"

"It's not you!" The shopkeeper was now not looking at AC at all, which honestly felt more strange than if they'd kept trying to. "You're a... Good patron, of course, it's just... Um... You're... Scaring away the other customers..."

Oh. That was why there was an odd crowd of potential customers huddled just outside the glass doors. AC waved. A large orc fainted.

AC blinked. Now the small mortals were all trying not to look into their eyes. If there was a way to express disappointment without your subject looking at you, AC hoped they were expressing that aura. "Is it the eye thing." Silently, the shopkeeper nodded. AC sighed, rummaged around in their cloak, and threw a few Votes onto the floor.

The payment caught the shopkeeper's eyes at least, stuck to the floor as they were, and worked a good enough diversion that they didn't stop AC from wrapping their own damn fabric, putting it into a bag and melting into the shadows with it, rather than use the crowded doors.

Far too late, the shopkeeper wondered when their next break was.

–––––

"You know red carnations are a much more obvious symbol of romantic passion?"

That much was true. AC, however, was admiring some lovely petunias, and wondering whether they'd handle the cool Void atmosphere well. Therefore, it didn't seem like whoever was talking was directing their advice at them.

"Red roses too. I... Don't know if your kind likes roses though."

To be fair, most flowers could survive most anything with a simple protective spell. Magic was nice like that. Still, it would also be nice if the flowers were a tad more protected from potential winds, so the majority of these would have to remain in the indoors venue.

"... Hello? Sir? Are... Are you listening to me?"

Luckily, the indoors venue was supposed to be more highly decorated than the outdoors section anyway. Petunias also preferred pots, and these night-sky petunias in particular would fit the 'stars inside and outside' aesthetic they were trying to balance.

Blithely, AC began to ponder whether white stone or dark wood pots would suit the petunias better, when they felt a sharp tug on their right wing. Glancing down, they found themselves staring at the person they though weren't talking to them earlier, with an odd sort of furrow in their brow.

"May I help you..." AC looked for the stranger's employee name badge. Finding none, AC Watched for a name, and continued. "... Blanche?"

Blanche, visibly freaked out about AC's use of their name, nethertheless shouldered on. "I was trying to tell you that petunias aren't the kind of flowers you give to your SO. Especially not purple ones; those are for friends, and coworkers, most often."

"... You know my SO?"

"Yes, well, I could tell by the way you were looking at these flowers." The ears on Blanche's head stood a little straighter; as did their posture, though their small stature made the movement barely noticeable. "And by the ring on your finger. I imagine you want to impress a person so important to you, surely?"

Somewhat childishly, said ring was bought back under AC's cloak. Blanche found their grip on the other shaken off, lightly, as AC stepped back once, their wings fluffing up from their once undisturbed position.

"The approval of him and his family is something incredibly important to me." AC conceded. However, before Blanche could respond, they picked up a container of the night-sky petunias they'd been admiring - with a tilt of their hand, their ring winked in the light. "Which is why I shall be leaving to gain exactly that. Good day, Blanche."

"S-Sir, you- but- those are the wrong-"

"Your bag is leaking dirt onto the floor."

"Huh- WHAT?"

"Mx, we're going to have to ask you to clean that up, store policy requires you to make sure you-"

"I- I know that! But they-"

But even as Blanche pointed behind them for the unimpressed florist to see, there was no one else in the aisle.

–––––

The Enderian whose name AC didn't want to find was glaring rather despicably at them. AC, as impassive as before they were rudely interrupted, simply stared back. The rest of their cult members present looked torn between fear and excitement.

"You dare insult me? When we have half of your little group of crows already caged outside? When we've surrounded you and the remaining half right here, in your own worshipping room?" The Enderian sneered, the steadfast hold on their staff not wavering a bit.

Rolling their eyes would only serve to anger the interrupters more; thus, AC held back and shrugged instead. For some reason, this still angered the regiment anyway- a lackey to the side fired off a spell in response, clearly aiming at AC. AC, who didn't even try to move.

Before the spell could come into contact with its intended target, it hit upon a hulking mass of writhing, greenish tentacles instead. Tentacles that had burst out from the ritual circle drawn in front of AC. AC, who still had an eldritch-magic grimoire in one hand, having been trying to teach their little crows with it (prior to being interrupted).

All of a sudden, the cult members' utter lack of resistance as this occupation of theirs had been raided suddenly made sense. After all, why would anyone stop an enemy from entering into a trap?

Precisely this reasoning was what lead the once-caged members of the cult outside to nimbly dodge and sidestep the screaming Enderian soldiers, as they were dragged into the presumed great maw of a creature their leader called a 'pet'. Sparing nary a tear for those who had attempted to harm them, they simply made for the rest of the group within, eager to watch the climax of such a demonstration.

In turn, the tentacles of the great beast were very considerate in their actions - by avoiding collisions with the cult members, as well as silencing any screeches that grew too cacophonous. The two groups made their way back at the same pace, until there was but one tentacle left to recede.

That tentacle was coiled around the struggling form of the Enderian captain themselves. Holding out their hand, AC watched as the tentacle stopped shy of its brethren's finished journey; with another gesture, the captain's mouth was no longer covered, and AC leaned in hear what they had to say.

"You... Will pay... For this... Watcher... I... I'll tear your... Stupid wings... Right off your back!" They spat. Due to their position, stuck as they were, the spit didn't travel very far - though the tentacle did tighten its constriction due to the disrespectful intent.

AC tilted their head to the side. "And... Why is that, exactly? Unless I am mistaken, you were the one to attack me. Surely this counts as self-defence?"

The noise the captain made might've been a scoff, if the tentacle hadn't broken their ribs: what came out sounded more like the squeak of an airless chew toy. "HaaAAa... That's... Just... What a... Monster... Like you... Would say... W... Wyslei." They didn't get a chance to spit again, as the tentacle kindly decided to re-cover their mouth. Just in case.

"... Do I look like- actually, you know what... Considering you guys keep coming after me, I'm guessing you all think I'm m- pardon, I presume you all believe me to be... Wyslei, was it? Or do some of you believe me to be... No? Not my... Other associates? Really?" How curious. AC supposes it's not the greatest insult they've ever received, though they were confused about the mix-up.

They don't shapeshift into Wy that much, and they certainly don't around their lovely crows, so it can't be that. Is it purely because the End knows of no other possibility for Watchers other than Wy and Chrissy? ...That might be more likely. Thé Enderians would know much more about Watcher numbers than the other dimensions' beings, thus they'd know there should be only 2, though that still doesn't explain why AC hasn't been confused for-

... Ohhh.

"... Is it because I'm ta- yeah, ok, thanks."

They get it now. What a new experience... Regardless, they can't have assassins coming after their darling husband and sibling-in-law, can they? Even if they've all been rather laughable so far, there's no way AC is going to willingly put them in potential danger.

"... Oh, go on then. Yes, I am Wyslei. I wish harm unto you, so on and so forth, please target me specifically and do not get confused with... Anyone who may resemble my colour scheme and general appearance. Especially anyone who may look more like me than... Me."

There we go. Problem sorted. The emergency information transference the captain had been trying to secretly do while being crushed alive was sent then, so AC gestured for the tentacle to resume and resume it did, dragging its final victim of the day all the way down until the portal closed again.

As their little crows cheered at the completion of a successful sacrifice, AC wondered, for a brief moment, whether they shouldn't underestimate these new assassins in their life. 'Tearing off the wings from their back' did sound rather violent, you see.

Yet, it wasn't like AC could use the wings-function of the feather cloak Grian gifted them anyway, not for their primary purpose of flight at least. Taking off the cloak also didn't feel painful, so even if wearing the cloak felt as if they really did have their own pair of [Watcher] wings, surely the act of tearing off the cloak wouldn't hurt either? Maybe it was some kind of illusion magic that made the wings feel... Attached to their body.

In any regards, surely it'd be a much lesser loss, both in significance and in physical pain, than that of real wings. And assassins were after them all the time, so if they could deal with anyone after their loved ones in a quiet and discreet way, surely that'd only be a positive too?

"We worship your skill, great leader of-"

AC felt something circular starting to form around their head. Again. "Ah! No, no no no, no worshipping me, remember?! Worship the other Watchers; I do not want to become a False Deity, thank you very much, my darlings-"

Ah well. Choice made. This will surely not come back to severely traumatise AC, and potentially their loved ones if they realise what 'hypothetically' could happen, in the future.

"Guys, no, seriously, Wy's going to gut me if I do, and I really do not want to be anything less than worthy of taking my husband down the altar- yes, I'm pretty sure being gutted alive counts as being too imperfect- dears, no, I don't want you to insist upon it, my darlings-!"

Surely not.

———

"..."

Glancing up from the sheets spread out before her, PsychA regarded the possible expression on AC's somewhat-there face, and made an educated guess at what it read. "Another day of troublesome marital-planning?"

"... Several months of it, but we'll go with that."

"You can... Still give up if you want."

"..."

"No?"

"No." AC affirmed, taking a seat next to their (now somewhat smaller, in comparison) counterpart. They skimmed over the various notes before them, before moving some of the papers around; a quill was swiftly adding to the notes next.

"Well... At least you haven't caused another war." PsychA ignored the Look a few of the eyes were giving her. "So. What happened?"

"That depends on what you want to hear. Good news or bad news first?"

"... Go on."

"Ok. So. Good news, I figure Winter-ish wedding means we are less likely to get interrupted by... Anything unsavoury. Plus I can gift a mistletoe necklace sometime before then, for no suspicious reasons at all."

"Gross, but continue."

"Bad news... Uhhh..." AC chuckled awkwardly. The quill, which had been doodling a few random hearts during the prior topic, suddenly stabbed a full-stop into a page. "How... Do you feel... About... The hypothetical concept of talking to Andromeya again?"

"... Andromeya? The one that's my ex?"

"And the one that's an Enderian mercenary, yes. And the one that's... Maybe-sort-of-in-my-cult-now and maybe-sort-of-might-have-bribed-her-way-with-a-cool-rib-cage-into-being-present-during-the-reception."

"She's wHat."

———

Author's note

I'm drawing lines between names like red string on a cork board. It's awesome. Just imagine the pictures are stuck up with glittery thumb tacks instead of red pins.

Something sparkly this way comes, and all that. Let's hope no glimmers of hope will be tramped out before it does ,:3.