#╰ *ㅤa pursuit to immortalityㅤ⧽ㅤv. canon

[abyssin]

shapeshifting is akin breathing for him, hand-in-hand with his habit to lie and to be true. whether it be his harbingers or his own family. childe is a soldier who must adapt in any environment. if he wishes to bring his tsarina's vision to reality, he will bear the flesh of his enemies stitched together by his hand.

perhaps it is why today is—a little strange. his gloves & mask are tucked away in his drawers. he's surprised his clothes still fit him, though mama had been the one to fuss the most with his figure, pulling his ear for not eating enough. but the strangest ( yet not unwelcome ) sight of all is the traveler in his bedroom, staring out at the permafrost night.

"i'm guessing you've gotten sick of the family photo album. a pudgy thing i was, huh?" he mimics a shiver down his spine, hand held up as childe—ah, he is ajax today, isn't he?—shrugs, then laughs. "i hope the night has been a more tasteful sight than photos of a boy who isn't here anymore. but mama's too soft. she can't know that, so let's keep it a secret." / @viaetor ♡

[abyssin]

a low hum of amusement in his throat. an affectionate brush of fingers over ginger strands standing out from teucer's head, the hum turning into chuckles when teucer reciprocates with a squint of two bright blue eyes. "sir bubbles and mr. cyclops are friends, teucer. i don't think they'd want to fight. wouldn't you agree?"

ajax settles back down, keeping a slight distance in a silent truce between the plush toy and his water illusion. in a gesture of curiosity, the older brother places the tip of his finger on his chin, his expression with playful wonder by the quirk of his eyebrow. "well, kiddo, water can split rocks if you know how to handle it." with a blink of his vision glowing blue, he brandishes his blades of water, seemingly solid if viewed by the unexperienced eye. ajax holds the blade away from teucer's reach to ensure the little one won't try jumping at the weapon.

"if pressurized, water can cut through even the diamonds. even the tallest mountains can be crossed if heroes were strong and could cut through the land itself. like those fairytales otets tells you." though, ajax isn't sure if teucer was getting too old for storybooks at his age now.

“No fair!!! You didn’t summon the whale!” He said thinking of the tiny water whale he had seen brother make in his palms. He hugged his toy squinting at his older brother. He had heard stories about the geo archon and his creation by just throwing spears.   The boys cheeks puffed out in thought “But you have a hydro vision! How can you break a mountain with a hydro vision?? Rock makes water split!” He states nodding his head hugging his toy tighter. 

[abyssin]

          where higher ranks saw cowardice, childe saw opportunity from reports of the roving fatui. an apparition had been spotted around mt. aocang with a strength unfathomable, capable of cracking open the earth and flinging lawachurls with featherlight ease. it's an instant pique of his interest. an otherwordly being with such sheer, raw power draws goosebumps at the back of his neck. he's yes to meet a warrior equal to skirk's prowess, and the thought of seeing his former master is a thrill he cannot ignore. the abyss in his blood bounds him to either to meet his master again, or find a new being to further his strength with.

          it isn't his first time trekking jueyun karst, the harsh hike a familiar challenge he's often preoccupied himself with to train his body and mind. but he's never ventured this particular peak at this height. this area of liyue had always felt particularly unearthly, a midpoint between the adepti and earth. after the fatui's plans in liyue had gone awry, he's made sure to stay clear of the area to avoid unnecessarily inciting the wrath of gods. it would be impractical to draw attention on himself while he was stationed in liyue.

          still, childe cannot help but wonder if the apparition had been sent down by the heavens for the fatui's endeavors. divine retribution, perhaps?

          just as childe believes he won't find anything here, he soon comes upon the peak of the mountain. the way up had been of steep and strenuous to traverse, but the ground here is even, save for the rising rocky structures at the edges. on any other day, the breathtaking scenery would be a sight he'd want to write down as a tale for his adventures outside snezhnaya, one to tell by the light of a fire with his younger siblings.

          but today, he feels the magnitude of energy before he spots her. despite the glaring sun reflecting rays directly against the pool, the pool is completely frosted over. in the midst of it all, a woman in white stands tall. she is no skirk, but he cannot deny how her presence is akin to a hailing storm challenging the sun itself.

          luckily for childe, snezhnaya has hardened him even against the most gelid of seasons. he, once again, can brave this storm with ease.

          he steps into the clearing, his movements cautious and his voice conversational. "you're not by any chance a god, are you, comrade?" / * @maquiscursed, for shenhe!

[abyssin]

tag dump for long overdue verses

[abyssin]

"it isn't everyday that i receive an escort. and montstadt's very own calvary captain at that." it is difficult to be certain if childe means to be amiable or calculating, the darks of his eyes an eerie combination with how his gaze dances in amusement. a harbinger like childe is unlikely to need a guide, much less a surveilling figure figure so closely related to the knights of favonius.

still, childe smiles wide, walking in pace with his new companion. "kaeya alberich, yes? i can navigate around town myself, if you have more pressing obligations at hand." / * @frozenambiguity.

[abyssin]

"i was told by my associates that you are the one responsible for this grand structure!" childe approaches the architect as if they were already acquaintances, draping an arm over his new companion and abruptly shoving a glass of champagne into his hand.

it is improper decorum to be so chummy at a formal gathering that is celebrating this 'kaveh' and his achievements. but then again, childe (especially a little tipsy from alcohol consumption) will always jump the gun for a new connection. "your artistic vision is one to behold, my friend. i am childe, envoy of the tsaritsa."

/ * @dhahabibi.

[abyssin]

"don't get too excited—" a rather playful roll of his eyes, it's quite difficult to irate the eleventh as ever—"i've made sure to make up for last time with a rather fresh set." picked up during his exciting time in fontaine, though he looks quite far from a man who had spent some time in prison, among other things. "they're there in the back, just as you want them!"

of course, with the eleventh, business is never simply just done. childe strides over to slide across the table of flasks dottore is examining, the action reckless yet careful with the way childe glances to make sure that none of the instruments suffer any damage. a gloved finger dares to flick dottore's chin up. even with the mask, childe knows the doctor's gaze is on him.

"it has been quite a while, sir." he lets the word roll over his tongue. a tease to the second's seniority in rank. "and some rather... interesting developments occurred at fontaine that built up my constitution. now, you could examine me, as per our arrangement." a tilt of the head, his smile thin. "or, you can also say you missed me. whichever you like."

✧ STARTER. | @abyssin

ㅤㅤ❝ — I hope your offering is less meager today, Tartaglia. ❞ㅤHe does not bother to turn towards the other harbinger, eyes transfixed onto the set of vials neatly assorted before him.ㅤ❝ The last specimen you brought me was an utter disappointment — they barely made it through the first phase of tests. ❞ㅤPathetic goes unsaid, instead plucking one of the flasks from its stand to inspect its contents more closely, the dim lilac glow reflecting on Dottore's mask.ㅤ❝ Or are you perhaps here for our other arrangement? ❞

[abyssin]

ㅤㅤthe dreary and dense clouds of his homeland remains the same as ever, barring even the slightest drip of the midday sunshine from showering snowy grounds. if the storm clouds hadn’t dimmed the terrain enough, zapolyarny palace is a foreboding presence to drape even its shadows across the city. 

ㅤㅤto a local like childe, he finds himself breathing in the cool air and smiling at the gloom of the scenery. the bustling life and warmth to liyue were luxuries he enjoyed as a snezhnayan envoy. but liyue is not the prick of ice even with layers of warmth on him, a bite that sparks childe to life. this is home, and the tsarina within still awaits her vision to come to fruition, delivered unto her by her harbingers. him.

ㅤㅤbut, his moment of reverence is cut short with a muffled shout from the distance. with a blink, childe turns to the source of the voice, noting the foreignness of his cadence. an eyebrow quirked up in curiosity as the scholar presents himself, childe’s smile ever amicable. he has little interest to know that this ‘kaveh’ is sumerian, the back of his mind idly recalling dottore and how the doctor may want to evoke his judgment on a sumeru academic. 

ㅤㅤnot that childe would choose to hand kaveh off, no. what would it say about himself as a diplomat, to leave this little stray by his lonesome? the edge of his lips quirk upwards, the smile almost mischievous now. but, before he allows the academic to mull on it any further, he steps forward and grasps his palm into a firm handshake.

ㅤㅤ”well! you’re lucky you’ve stumbled upon me. the other locals aren't as receptive to tourists.” like the flick of a switch, the off-ness to his smile disappears into his usual expressions, the curve of his lips almost the harbinger places a hand on his chest. “kaveh, you say? you can call me childe. welcome to my beloved tsaritsa's palace."

ㅤㅤchilde notices the briefcase in the other's palm, noting the vision first and foremost, and the intricate design to the luggage. "here, would you like help with your things? if you lost your tour group... i can escort you and even give you the grand tour of the palace, if you’d like.”

@abyssin liked for a starter!

Things are not going according to plan.

Then again, Kaveh thinks with a heavy weight of dread, that they never do. His luck always finds a way to curse him - no matter where he goes. Even here, in the far reaches of Snezhnaya.

But a possible sliver of hope appears before him, with ginger hair and a smile so friendly it is a touch unnerving. Still, it’s been longer than Kaveh would like to admit since he’s so much as seen a guard to ask the way. His options are rather limited.

“Hi, sorry!” Kaveh waves a little at the stranger, grin sheepish. “I’m an architect, visiting from the Sumeru Akademiya.” The introduction, he hopes, helps his case. “My name is Kaveh. I’m currently abroad to study international culture and architecture. And, well, the palace of course is a central part of it! But I seem to have gotten caught up in sketching and observation - so much so that I have completely lost track of my tour group.”

Though every word leaving his mouth is the truth, he knows how unbelievable he must sound. It would be unfortunate to be executed by the Tsaritsa because he was too charmed by a railing.

“And, well, I have a feeling I am not meant to be here.” A nervous laugh leaves him as he glances up again to meet the stranger’s eyes. “Could I trouble you for assistance?”

[abyssin]

"you will realize that hell is quite comforting, should you find yourself befriending it." for how can a hell be enticing when he has chosen to lay in his cage? the abyss has shown him the full potential of ajax. he has crossed hell, and he would be more than glad to do it again.

as they stand atop liyue's gusting peaks, childe looks to the stranger with rapt interest. the harbinger ran into him on his regular hikes at jueyun karst. he does not recognize the blond's strange ensemble. "what does your hell look like, my friend? perhaps all you need is a companion to dive in there with you."

"i can't escape this hell. so many times i've tried but i'm still caged inside." // @abyssin

[abyssin]

ㅤㅤ“is that what you believe, traveler?” to anyone who is unacquainted with ajax, it’s easy to miss the off-lilt to his voice. his tone remains playful, but his solemn gaze falls to the open album on the side. there are memories there of another life, like a fairytale with the most perfect of families. he knows these snapshots had been warm, once. no matter the gelid climates, the harsh sculpting of snezhnayan grounds, the desolation of winter, warmth akin to the sun always filled the zakharov household. 

ㅤㅤthat unknown sun remains in their humble home, keeping them warm even years later. only now, the temperature is… strange. the home alien. it is uncertain if the tilt of their humble world is off its axis, or if the descent of tartaglia had dimmed the sun. perhaps it is afraid of him, too. 

ㅤㅤajax notices the minute way the caeling’s gaze shifts, catching ajax’s moment of reminiscence in the form of uncharacteristic silence. he flashes aether a smile of reassurance as the harbinger reaches forward. cups his hand with his own palm. then, gloved fingers pressed against the curve of his cheek. ajax has heard that other suns from other planets shine differently, a heat unfathomable from teyvat’s own skies. aether’s touch alone makes him yearn for a sun he has never known. his very own star, balancing the axis of this once-home, if only fleetingly. 

ㅤㅤthe thought makes ajax move his head, lips resting atop gloved palm. it’s not quite a kiss, no. soldiers like them are strangers to love. the gesture presents itself more as a human habit, covering his mouth whilst in his thoughts. thinking. but comforting, nonetheless, with the way azure eyes flutter closed. a moment of peace as he breathes in the scent of aether's glove, his palm. the windwheel asters from mondstadt.

ㅤㅤit is then that his empty gaze refocuses on the caeling. ajax’s smile, once he finally turns to aether, distorts to something thin and bemused, if not for the sake of being polite. aether is wrong. on which account, childe doesn't try to expound. he will let aether dream in a future where ajax could only be ajax. the mask is here to stay, and his mother will have to continue playing oblivious to the boy from the abyss. she must, for the sake of believing that ajax is the same boy who resurfaced from the abyss.

ㅤㅤajax lifts his head from the traveler’s touch, but his fingers remain there, intertwining now with aether’s own. despite the aloofness of his initial reaction, the message is quiet, but clear: stay here with me for now. he guides aether to the mattress  of his bed, taking his seat there. he meets golden gaze once more with a silent invitation to sit with him. “were you as ‘pudgy and cute’ as you are today, when you had been a young star yourself? i would relish in the tales of your days as a fledgling.”

ㅤㅤneither of them belonged in those winter-loved frames. their hands are too rough from holding blades and corpses to bake special berry delicacies, their bodies too scarred from deadly battles to lazily nap by the living room’s fireplace, their spirits too burdened from responsibilities to sleep tightly before midnight’s tick. thus, while teucer, tonia and the others are weaving fantasies with orpheus’ aid after an entire day of feasting and partying, the two of them remain waltzing in each other’s presence. monsters do not rest at the same time as humans, after all. for in this frigid land of love and childhood dreams, they’re both outsiders, just wanting to get home—if there is even one to return to, anyway.

ㅤㅤmaybe this is why aether’s fingertips linger for longer than they should; thinking, hoping, praying that he could freeze that boy’s innocent smile for a bit more. with two teeth missing in the picture, he wields a wooden sword so awkwardly, yet so bravely to protect a castle made out of dirt and some broken branches. there’s another one of little ajax crying because of a splinter in his big toe. whereas in an older photograph, he’s seen holding a fish twice his size. his baby pictures are of him wearing a scarf and playing with a miniature house while his siblings are behind him, posing for an important portrait alongside his parents. but that sweet past sours—rather, it disappears for a few years. then, as if wearing the husk of what that lad used to be, the figure returns in plastic paper—his hair darker, his eyes gloomier, his skin paler, his body slimmer, his posture rougher. the family picture seems to have an imposter; his smile matches not the blue pits of his eyes. eerie. everyone seems to notice. his older siblings are inches away farther apart, disturbed. his father is no longer ruffling ginger hair like before, but yes gripping his decorative sword tightly. still, he’s held affably on the shoulders by the wrinkled hands of a housewife. she’s scared. she had soft chubby cheeks, yet her offspring bore claws and fangs as if turned into a wolf. still, she was the one who remained unchangeably by his side.

ㅤㅤ“your mother knows.” matter-of-factly is his tone, and it’s finally then that caeling hands place the treasured album on a wooden nightstand. he looks at the boy-made soldier, as if blazing gold had finally met a pair. as if he had finally glued, quietly, a missing piece of a mental puzzle. as if he was not scared of the monster. for how could he? we’re not so different.

ㅤㅤ“and for what it’s worth—” he takes a glimpse at the opened pages, drawing a smile. “i do think you’re still pudgy and cute… well, on your cheeks, at least.” he takes a step in his direction, offering to touch tartaglia’s ajax’s cheek. “you should put down your mask more often.”