#“elysia would cradle and cherish each and every one” IM GONNA REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED R

[omnipicureans]

It has been more years than Elysia can count since last they stood beneath the same sky. A real sky, one with stars and a moon, not a phony thing made up of countless ones and zeroes.

A real sky, in a real world. If she were to reach forward now she would certainly feel the real warmth of the other's skin, not one diluted by distant static as she had grown so accustomed to.

Or perhaps there would be static still, she does not care. Aponia's very being wore their past upon it like a scar. It could mar her face, split her into a thousand fragmented pieces, carve her into a mere husk of herself. Elysia would cradle and cherish each and every one, if only it meant that they could be near once more.

As they are now, as they are ( and as she knows ) because her hands have moved despite her instruction, because she is reaching to for Aponia's own.

Because, when they touch, it is not a thousand sensations from memory programmed to pitter across her nerves. It is real. Real enough. Elysia cannot swallow her smile.

"After all this time, you are still so resilient." Aponia who walked along fate's tightrope, who knew and saw it as one might themself. Aponia who bore the weight of a thousand lifetimes on her soft shoulders. "It is as though we last saw each other only yesterday, and yet I feel like I have missed you for an eternity."

THIS FRAGMENT OF APONIA'S SIMULATION IS NO MORE REAL THAN THE THINNING STRING TETHERED TO BOTH IT & the elysian realm, of which is merely a shattered dream she cannot keep herself from cutting her fingers upon, determined to gather each fractured glass——— memories, of herself, of those who long passed, of those forgotten & not missed——— until a meager attempt at recollection can be absolved.

but, hopefully, THERE IS A TRIUMPH IN THE BLEAK SPREAD OF DARKNESS ABOVE THEM ; the forever knowledge that, at least here, in teyvat, there comes an existence where they are human, together, before they are the binaries that once made up their bodies & blood.

ELYSIA IS HERE, an observation & confession all at once. ELYSIA IS HERE, & even if aponia is not, there remains comfort in the revelation, as painful as it may be.

& the silent yet looming question nearly becomes suffocating. ( WILL SHE TAKE ME AS I AM? WILL HER GAZE PRY THROUGH MY VERY BEING & SEE FIRST A TRAGEDY? WILL I BE ACCEPTED, AGAIN, FOR WHAT I HAVE BECOME & WILL REMAIN? ) disicpline releases a shuddering exhale, hands suddenly frigid from where they are clasped at her stomach ; incredulous, she becomes, for temperature is merely a trait no simulation possesses. not as she is now, not half the prophet elysia once knew.

though aponia does not flinch at the fingers cupping hers, she cannot stifle the surprise that arches her brows, nor the parting of thin, pursed lips. THERE IS WARMTH, a heat blatant enough to drag her gaze down to where she & elysia's fingers interlock, where this simple body of hers refuses the temptation of glitching & snapping at the seams. tangible, she is programmed to be, but the truth of such touch is incompatible, entirely lost to her.

shy blue eyes rise to meet a tender, wholly human smile, given despite all she is, all she has become. ( FATE NEVER SPOKE OF A REUNION, NOT ONE OF THIS CAPACITY. for once, the heavens left her blind before its greatest martyr. )

❛ i must be. ❜ is all aponia has the strength to utter, at first, too wound up by this strange tightening of code within her to produce much else besides another, strangled exhale. her head bows, then, NOT SO MUCH IN REVERENCE AS IT IS BELIEF. ❛ for your paradise to remain, i must achieve a greater immortality. & i must succeed. ❜

& she has, if the softness of elysia's musings offer any answer. for the first time in a wayward while, aponia allows herself a smile, even if small. her thumb rubs that of whatever skin of elysia's hand is in reach.

softly, discipline whispers, ❛ an eternity is a humble length of time to describe how long you have been missed. but i am gladdened that it, at least, is mutual. ❜ by her, all of her, each fragment of aponia's comatose body & each crackling glitch splitting apart the weakened realm. humanity is no longer lost, yet the weight of loss remains upon burdened shoulders. SHE CONFESSES WILLINGLY, then, ❛ the elysian realm is quieter now, near dissonant. . . much has changed, & despite my greatest efforts, all had been in vain. ❜

aponia should confide in her, ask of all elysia has witnessed in this new world, & all she has come to learn. question what memories have become hers, wholly. maybe inquire about the humans that live here, too, but not a word of such thoughts leave her lips.

instead, WARMTH ARTICULATES ITSELF AS SUCH, ❛ have you had the delight of prying apart the sand with your bare feet yet? it is. . . softer than i would have thought. . . a blessing of an opportunity to have acted upon, i say. ❜ unspoken comes the cheer : IT IS REAL! WE STAND AMONGST THE REAL, THE TANGIBLE, ONCE MORE!