Dearly Beloved, We're Gathered Here Today... [Insomnia Wedding]

Redrum stood at a distance, his muscles twitching in uneasy silence as he took in the scene, his pale eyes tracing the decorations swaying in the evening breeze—the feathers and bones, firefly lamps, and ribbons all strung up with reverent care. He had spent days clearing out the nearby threats, ensuring the celebration could unfold undisturbed, but even now, amid the gathering crowd and the careful beauty of it all, he felt that same quiet restlessness in his bones. His own touch was meant for sharpness, for survival, not for creating anything like this.

As he awaited the ceremony to start, Rou’s call pulled his attention back, the sound rippling through him in a strange way. He felt a spark of pride in the gathering faces and the feast laid out by the pond, all of them coming together under a single cause. But his pride was laced with something else—a murkier feeling he couldn’t quite pin down.

What was a wedding, after all? Why did it hold this weight? The idea seemed… foreign to him, all the gestures, the vows, the significance. What did it mean to be bound to someone else, to be locked in a promise that was supposed to reach beyond even life itself? For someone like him, who was already bound by instinct, it seemed a peculiar choice, a construct that tugged at his mind but always slipped out of understanding. The red brute had already taken a spoil, a bottle much stronger than he’d had at Maki’s birthday, but somehow it suited him just fine. It was bitter and it was warm, almost hot down his throat. Just what he needed to manage the disorder in his chest in the presence of so many watching eyes and sounds that clouded his mind.

“Till death…” he muttered, his voice trailing off. His eyes lingered on the others, catching the warmth in their eyes, the soft touches, the way they looked toward the willow with something close to awe. His mother had chosen this, and so had Erebos. They were bound to one another, apparently by love, by whatever unspoken force drove them to this night. But for him, it was all a puzzle, a binding that seemed, if anything, too vulnerable.

With effort, he quieted the tension in his muscles, forcing himself to be still. Maybe he didn’t need to understand. For one night, he could try to mirror the calm of the pond, the strength of the old willows. He could let it be what it was meant to be—a night for those bound by the invisible ties that made them whole. Yes, he could do that.


"Murder"