#◟༺✦༻◞ may your sorrow be washed away with tides deliverance; o' mighty dragon ┊neuvillette → apocryphis.

[reginrokkr]

✧ @apocryphis asked: "may i ask you something?" the voice of the sovereign does little to disturb the gentle drumming of the rain against the high windows of his chambers, pearls of water shimmering under moonlight and bathing them, near-asleep lovers, in healing silver glow. they are meant to drift to sleep, though neither one really needs it (but it is a pleasant ritual, to fall asleep with dainsleif in his arms, and his hand resting over his heart - one he has come to cherish as much as letting rainfall wash over him after too long a time cooped inside the walls of the palais) - and neuvillette almost feels the need to apologise for delaying that respite for his lover. almost. he is quite certain that once he hears what he has to say, dainsleif will understand where the dragon's thoughts have wandered too.

"you are much better travelled than i am, and must have heard your fair share of tales about them. certainly more than i have." neuvillette sighs, fingers absently grazing over his companion's shoulder as he speaks, shimmering eyes gazing over to the windows. " ... for many centuries, i thought i knew what to expect of the gods of this new world but... fontaine's recent developments and focalors'... demise - " neuvillette pauses, briefly. " ... have made me reconsider all that i had taken for granted."

eyes leave the falling rain trapped outside, and trail back to seek blond hair and the half-lidded sapphires shimmering underneath; an affectionate kiss pressed to the bough keeper's head as if to apologise for the odd timing of his questions. "you have seen what they have made of this world, good and worst - perhaps even met some of them... what do you make of them?"

Were Dáinsleif be asked what time of the day he favors, he wouldn't doubt to say night. Its darkness has never bothered him, having lived in a kingdom where hardly any light that bathes Teyvat in penetrated its deepest layers. Stars, countless as creatures in this world shimmering in the blanketed night sky keeping company to a moon coated with curses of the realm of death first, then a sun too ominous for those who never once saw its luster behind an entirely dark canvas. It is also the moment where dreams are born, dreams that people of that dreamless land wished to have. Night is the element Twilight Sword feels at ease the most, without that light he had no choice but get used to that can blind him when he's at his darkest moments.

But upon forming a relationship built in respect and trust above everything, with love thereafter... suddenly, his cold nights became warm; the dangers associated with this world's darkness melted with protection and a feeling of safety when he's in the dragon's arms; all the wrongs in the world that he works incessantly to right fade away if only just for a moment's repose.

Lunarescent knight nearly falls asleep if it weren't for Neuvillette's voice, softer than every calming raindrop hitting the windows outside. Sapphire irises look through albescent lashes at him, patiently in quiescent wait as a means to urge him to speak up his mind. Of all the topics they have addressed for the past centuries, the gods was, without a doubt, a prominent one. Except not in a manner of reflection upon encountering a crude reality right before their very eyes— in Neuvillette's more than his own, after watching the fall of a god. Not because of an act of rebellion from the humans' part as past instances in history, nor being slain by another god in a dispute for power.

Just as Leviathan conveys struggle in a moment when his beliefs are shaken by unexpected turns of fate, so Dáinsleif finds conflict in admittance of truths hard to utter.

◜In Khaenri'ah I met people of all walks of life with different ways of hatred towards gods, locals or outsiders who abandoned their faith and their homeland to find repose in another where they could find people with similar beliefs.◞ Suffice to say, as an aristocrat of high social standing and Twilight Sword, he was exposed to all, even absorbed some of it. ◜Due to their incessant pursue to find truths that discredit the gods and the kingdom's unique location nearby the Abyss, some of them were found and thus turned into the foundation to loathe these lying gods even more.◞

Even to this day, some of their arguments still stand true after having glimpsed into the truth of this world— the genesis of fate. In Dáinsleif's eyes, gods are no more than another kind of creatures that live in Teyvat with aptitude for higher power. But in essence, that is all these is about them: power. Not even they can understand themselves at times, even less humans nor realize when divine and mankind share more than they would believe. If only their delusions of grandeur didn't get in between.

◜Seizing the opportunity I had to look into the memories of this world, I have met all manners of gods, each with different ambitions and of different moralities. That, in combination with the existing gods at this moment of time, I can claim that not all of them can be of a kind.◞ His head accommodates on the pillow in a brief moment of contemplation, a sigh emerges from his nose. Similarly as Neuvillette has grown to like to do, Dáinsleif's bare hand reaches out to touch his beloved's chest, right over the post of his heart.

◜There are those who in their awareness of this world's imposed injustice by their own divine creators fought to the last to do something about it. Remus, God King of the olden Remuria is one such example: he sought to free everyone from the chains of fate with the creation of a symphony. Upon realizing the grave mistake he committed, everything he had caused... he didn't hesitate to forsake his life in order to mend his wrongs. Rhukkadevata, God King of Sumeru saw potential in humanity and used their dreams as a means to liberate this world from forbidden knowledge. Upon realizing that the last shard of forbidden knowledge was her, she forsook her life in order to eliminate the last remnants of defilement and herself from Irminsul. Focalors...◞ Another sigh follows, his hand snakes its way to cup the side of the Iudex's neck. ◜In order to save her people from an unjust curse and restore your missing dragonhood, she sacrificed her own life and her corresponding throne in the heavens.◞

◜What can I offer to gods like these, if not words of praise for their deeds?◞

Hard as it is to admit, it is the truth. No matter how much time he had spent in a kingdom that abhorred the gods or his personal beliefs on them, he can and will give credit where it's due. ◜Just as there are noble gods that are no more among us, or have lost the luster they held in the past...◞ Namely Nahida for one, young as she is for a god, she's doing what others weren't capable in millennia. ◜There are those who in their awareness of the higher divinities' deeds do naught for reasons that I cannot see beyond mere self-preservation.◞ Despicable in its own right, if he were asked. Too meek to do anything that could endanger their own lives, yet they behave even more timidly in their small revolts against the heavens. All their efforts insufficient if they truly seek a change unless what they fear is to become powerless or stop existing completely. ◜Little if anything can be said of those who aren't willing to make sacrifices to unfetter themselves from this unjust world.◞

Ultimately, seraphic hand reaches out to cradle Leviathan's face. Tender and encouraging, amorous and understanding. ◜It is hard to come to a solid conclusion when everything your beliefs are shaken. Nevertheless, I have faith in your judgement, that one day you will find your answer and act consequently. Until then...◞ Dáinsleif scoots closer to the dragon's body to press their foreheads together, albescent lashes flutter close. ◜Remember thus: the world won't stop for a decision to come, nor the examples I gave you make it any less constricted by unjust laws imposed by usurper gods. Nothing has to remain stagnant, either.◞

The same can be said for your king, whom no longer held animosity for us humans, creations of the greatest Usurper King... isn't that right?

[reginrokkr]

@apocryphis asked: A dedicated and equally emboldened Iudex reaches for his hand, delicately locking their fingers together. He even allows himself to make eye contact. A truly sinful day is upon us.

Ah, but what is more sinful than two abominations in divine's eyes than a human and a dragon forced to rebirth as a man, natural enemies as per what history goes? They can wail for all Dáinsleif cares, were they bear witness of this unlikely union that only brings more strength and poses a higher danger to the usurpers, born from something as natural as understanding and more.

But today Twilight Sword won't entertain the idea any further. Instead, his mind is filled with ways to return Leviathan's display of affection with one of his own: free hand reaches up to cup his jaw, thumb tracing the warmth of his cheek to coax him to get closer for a gentle press of foreheads without ever breaking eye contact. If this is the most sinful Dáinsleif will be, he would gladly take it without rancor.

[reginrokkr]

✦ @apocryphis asked: "i know you do not burden yourself with material possessions on your long journeys, so, rather than encumbering you with another one of my ceramic creations..." a joke - one of the very rare few to ever pass the threshold of the iudex's lips (perhaps that, in itself, is a privilege), before the dragon of water flips a file on his desk shut, and decidedly pushes it to the side. he rises to his feet, and joins up with his beloved seraph, draconic eyes softening at the clear moment of reserved confusion he sees in star-branded sapphires. gloved hands rise to cusp the curves of his face, admiring it as though contemplating the finest treasure in all of fontaine - perhaps in all of teyvat, if one were to ask him his humble opinion. "so, in my meagre attempt to follow a few human traditions here and there, i thought that for this day - albeit not a fontainian custom per se - i could perhaps take the day off and spend it with you." the palais mermonia will not collapse if he disappears for a few days! furina had once said. perhaps today is the day this theory is put to the test. "is there anything you would like to do, my dearest love? any sights not yet seen, any whims i could help satisfy? you keep following me into the depths of the sea whenever nostalgia strikes me, but what about you? what would make you happy?" (haha plot twist, what do YOU want mr i always put the world before myself very literally dainsleif)

It is said that sharing is caring. Dáinsleif could confirm this firsthand with every little trinket of the dragon's making in appointed moments in time. How could he forget the smile on his lips, the primordial sea hues dancing within the depths of his irises with renewed light every time he handed him one of his creations as he waited in anticipation to see his reaction? And the warmth that never fails to bloom from within his chest, spreading throughout his body as his own stellar pupils quivered with delight and joy at the gifts and the thoughtfulness behind Neuvillette's actions, the love and care he engraved in every sacred moment of theirs.

Twilight Sword is no obtuse man to not detect the jesting tone in Leviathan's voice, yet strong sentiments he reserves in the depths of his heart leads him to confusion, to wondering: were his reactions to the other's gifts insufficient for him to know how important they are to him, in order to consider a different approach for gift-making?

For all the intrigue he has, seraphic heart comes to a calmer stillness when his beloved's hands cradle his face with tenderness that soothes the most terrifying of nightmares. His own gloved hands reach up to hold the other's wrists gently, a manner to say he doesn't want him to let go as he looks at him through albescent lashes and leans a tad further into his touch in silent wait.

What does he want?

Truth be said, whatever answer he'd choose to give wouldn't be sufficiently satisfactory in view of this special occasion that Neuvillette dares to take off his obligations as the Iudex. Reason why Dáinsleif searches a bit deeper into his repertoire of answers. From all of them, the most earnest and genuine he could muster is given. ◜I would like to share with you what I do.◞ He knows about Leviathan's awareness of his deeds for the past centuries to the point where their first meeting was punctuated with one such deeds on its own. But the occasion, the timing merit it and not without reason.

Roseate lips curl in a reserved smile seconds before he places a soft kiss on one of his palms. ◜It will be a trip into the depths of the sea, ironic it may be.◞ A nigh muted chuckle follows thereafter as his gentle gaze turns towards the window, his mind imagining a spot under the great waterfalls that rise Fontaine closer to the sky. ◜There is something that must be done there, someone who might want to meet you and that needs help.◞ Namely the prince of vishaps, whom has taken the mantle that Leviathan would've taken otherwise if he were to be born sooner— and whom he might delight in meeting. He wishes.

Glacial sapphires return to Neuvillette, his hand gives his wrist a small squeeze. ◜If you wish to come with me, I have to warn you that you'll be stuck with me more than just this day... in the olden Remuria.◞

[reginrokkr]

» @maquiscursed asked: “ every time i touch you, there’s a moment where you look like you think it will hurt. ” (from neuvi, forgive him he's still learning to read the room)

Time is the best teacher to those who don't lack any due to their exceptional condition outside the realm of conventional mortality. Individuals who have different learning paces have all the time in the world to ultimately discover matters alien to their nature or their circumstances that will not allow them to occupy their endeavors with much more that isn't within the sphere of obligations. Same case can be applied to two individuals whose lifespan has already exceeded half a millennium and, by some amusing irony, they still are behind many men that hardly reach to a century of life.

Matters of physical contact that differ from anything that can be found in battle, the poison of the world or divine curses are one such topic that Dáinsleif has yet to learn a lot from— and, at the same time, Neuvillette doesn't stay behind. It would be a matter of time until these expressions of closeness that bring peace to burdened minds would open a can of worms that Twilight Sword was uncertain it would ever be open. Nevertheless, never once he had the intention to keep the truth away from him were it ever addressed.

Like today.

Soothing warmth and comfort are like balms to a wary soul and deteriorated body byproduct of erosion, corruption and divine curse. However, when it comes to such a novel thing such as touch, experiences accumulated for the past centuries make themselves manifest through involuntary reactions that Dáinsleif didn't notice he has— and that he wished he didn't in Neuvillette's presence, now that he has found out that he indeed has.

◜My apologies.◞ Crystalline azures drop with muttered apology, guilt making home of his heart at the knowledge that Neuvillette has struggled for a very long time to make a place for himself in Fontaine without human fear that, as a non-human —how wrong they are, for even if it is just half, he's still just like them— being, he may hurt them. Having known him for centuries and established a solid terrain of trust, Dáinsleif is well cognizant that in all his gentle nature he would never seek to harm him in any way.

But what must cross his mind, when his involuntary reactions may be communicating otherwise?

◜Before what I am about to entrust you, I want to preface that it is not your touch what hurts.◞ For he does indeed hurt at times and it is futile to deny the evident— specially when he's been caught red-handed. Dáinsleif takes a long breath to still his racing heart, to calm his rushing mind with hundreds of thoughts and put them in order. Sapphire irises look at his right hand, bereft of the glove that usually covers the monstrosity of darkness and strangeness of visible Ley Lines covering it. ◜My body struggles with two ailments as you may already know: the curse of immortality laid by the gods and the corruption.◞

◜The curse of immortality not only denies me conventional ways to death, but it rises me into a planar of existence higher than that of the humans. For that reason, I am hyper aware of the deterioration of my body and my soul... of the pain it causes.◞ A pause. ◜Lest the deterioration is heightened all of a sudden, it would stand to reason to think that this pain remains unchanging and you would be correct to think so, but there is one more factor.◞ His hand rises to the spot over his heart, glowing gently in sapphire light with every beat. ◜The corruption within me alters my senses sometimes, including touch. I have learned that my touch receptors transmit faulty information to my brain, which in turn sends a response in accordance to the information it has received. So no matter if I know that immersing myself in a warm bathtub won't harm me, sometimes this alteration will make me feel as if it will scald me. This is naught but a result of my endless struggle against the corruption of my body, so it doesn't overtake me completely.◞

And turns me in a monster entirely.

Stellar pupils quiver within glacial sapphire depths as he looks into Neuvillette's eyes, his gaze drops to his hand thereafter to gently reach out for it and, despite visible quivering, he brings it to his face and holds it in place. Albescent lashes flutter close, fair brows knit in a subtle frown as he feels disproportionate pain acting up. But he doesn't let go— he doesn't want to let go. ◜Forgive me. It was never my intention to make you feel like I do not desire your touch. On the contrary.◞ Dáinsleif leans into the palm of his hand and opens his eyes anew. ◜It does not always happen, of course. It fluctuates with the corruption's multifactorial highs and lows. But when it does... I want you to know that I am doing everything in my power to fight it back.◞

For you, whom showed nothing but compassion to the monster I am... deserve at least earnest reciprocity and to know that it is greatly appreciated.

[reginrokkr]

@apocryphis asked: Their steps resonate like echoes in a holy cathedral; only for the deafening, suffocating silence to smother them a split second after. As dragon and seraphim emerge from the bowels of the serpent, Enkanomiya welcomes them with perfect and utter stillness. Slowly, the sovereign advances, until he reaches the edge of the precipice ahead. Beyond lie islands abandoned, floating in eternal mist; a ceiling of rock and stone casting eternal darkness. The dragon's eyes take it all in, the desolate landscape, majestic still in its immobility, its prison of silence, obscurity like the last blanket of comfort afforded to his banished kin.

Herein lies Enkanomiya, the sunken kingdom; and last repose of the dragonheirs of the depths.

Neuvillette exhales a shaky sigh, barely aware of Dainsleif's presence at his back. So very deep down under the sea, the echoes of the depths resonate within his very core, silent, yet forceful as rogue waves crashing against the hull of doomed ships during a storm. "Forgive me." He finally mutters at his companion's address, eyes closing so as to ward off intrusive memories seeking to ebb at his mind before he grants them permission to. "This place is charged with memories and emotions... I need a moment to adjust." But that is not the whole truth, is it -- hydro is not the only vector welcoming him in those lands like earth craving water after a draught. Deep within his soul, dormant nature stirs - ancient and ferocious, proud and regal even in its downfall. The dragon of water has come home; and to him, Enkanomiya signs the somber hymn of long fallen kin.

Even amidst all his efforts, images slip past - humans and vishaps clawing at one another's throats, each fighting for survival; an artificial light, burning and blinding his retinas; newborn vishaps growing into elements that were never meant to be theirs, freezing and electrifying their vulnerable minds into frenzy; starvation, torture, a laboratory, pain, fury and despair beyond measure. "For as long as I can remember, a part of my consciousness has always been tied to this place... I know not whether I was born here or elsewhere, but... though human-born I was, my memory was always tethered to theirs." The sovereigns murmurs. At his side, Dainsleif's aura may very well be the last tether he has to the present, before getting swept by the tide of memories. "Have I failed them?" His voice is barely a whisper now - he who commands justice and order, a judge and ruler - and perhaps, one day, an executioner. "I am their sovereign... and yet, in five hundred years, I have never gone to rescue them... however few of us are left."

Land of the white night reveals itself before the eyes of the ancient with Hyperion standing proud and high farther from where they stand shining like the artificial sun it is. Now a no man's land that long ago it has been abandoned by following generations of people who once used to be part of the unified civilization in the Era of the Saints, before the Apocalypse struck Teyvat and with it, gods ceased to answer the prayers of the humans. Not only that, but these in particular, most of them turned into ghostfire phantasms, were denied return to the so-called world shaped to allow human life to prosper and locked to coexist with the Abyss in a similar manner as Khaenri'ah did— and to forever war against vishaps whose rest was perturbed by the coming of creations of the god they have come to despise so. Not without reason, for it was by his hand that their kings have fallen one by one, fated to wither away until naught but a shadowy reminiscence of their previous existence is left in the hearts of those who laments their loss— soon to rebirth.

This is only the second time Dáinsleif has ever stepped on holy grounds to the vishaps, not prompted by the necessity to perform the ritual to ensure the survival of the island above, but by his own suggestion to the sovereign of all waters to come visit it at the notion that never before he came. From what little this fallen seraphim can offer him, leading him to some semblance of home that the land of the midnight sun might be to a bleeding heart that has an unequivocally grander connection to this land that he may have with Fontaine.

Ironically, there is some semblance of familiarity within him upon stepping these grounds, too. A more spiritual one he fails to make connection with, tied exclusively with that elusive destiny he has encountered in a moment of being completely at a loss after losing it all. The shape his fate takes after, and a name to go with that represents immense importance to ancients of old that no longer live here, that one day he would like to investigate more about: Ouroboros— perhaps a topic to ask Leviathan himself about, for as far as he's concerned that is no dragon, but a serpent. Even yet, one of the philosophies he reminisces the eidolons murmuring about in hushed whispers when Evernight falls is that dragons and serpents have little to differ about.

Dáinsleif cannot begin to imagine what the coming to Enkanomiya must suppose to Neuvillette's psyche— what memories might return to him in full strength and what sentiments and echoes he must feel and hear the same from these poisoned waters. Sensing his paralysis, his name slips past roseate lips not with the intent to startle him, but to rouse him back to awareness and, if an emotional whirlpool made its way to his very core, give him the strength to emerge from it victorious and not let waters drown the dragon that has authority over them, of all beings.

To Neuvillette's apology, a gentle shake of his head is offered to dispel all enormity of guilt he shouldn't feel. Crystalline blues gaze upon Helios, making a mental note to shut it off at the closest opportunity to spare the draconic rex and all vishaps that are left wandering this soil. For there is no meaning in keeping an artificial sun alight when it has already served its purpose, completely meaningless now that only those whom even know about the existence of this fragment of a fallen civilization and their way to its grounds come here. His gaze returns to Leviathan as he speaks further, glacial sapphires narrowing gentle and compassionate to allow him to express himself in a moment where he needs it most— and when, perhaps, he didn't have a chance to yet.

◜According to scriptures of the ancients that were forced to conceal and leave behind, should they desire to return to the surface, your rebirth in human form was anticipated.◞ He reminisces as much from reading the collection of books that he was requested to retrieve, and, eventually, their completion would become the Sun and Moon collection. ◜Because part of the vishaps had undergone adaptation in mutating their original element for another, provoked and holding no other solution but adapt to their circumstances and do so naturally, you would be unable to be born as a fully-fledged dragon. I ignore how old these scriptures are, but I can attest with entire confidence that they predate the end of the Archon War in Inazuman lands.◞

Celestial azures widen when Leviathan questions himself if he has failed the vishaps and with it, his own heart drops to the pit of his stomach. Stellar pupils quiver within their depths as his eyes narrow, a crease makes its way betwixt fair brows before albescent lashes flutter close as the same question echoes within the recesses of seraphim's broken mind, in his voice, worth all the times he ever questioned himself the same.

At least one of them still has a chance.

◜Too many times to remember have I asked myself the same.◞ Albescent lashes flutter open a tad to reveal quivering, sapphire irises. ◜Even if I am fighting to protect the honor and dignity of my knights, and of the people I sword protection… "Have I failed them?" Would it have been better if only I joined the Abyss Order? Are my actions contributing to the prolongation of their suffering, of those who still exist as hilichurls or otherwise after five hundred years? I was supposed to protect all of them, but I was useless to stand against the gods that brought destruction and desolation to Khaenri'ah.◞ Starlight-kissed strands sway gently with another shake of his head, before Dáinsleif turns fully to look at Neuvillette. ◜Even if things may look presently bleak to you... you are different. There are vishaps scattered wide in these lands, waiting for the return of their kings. Having you back, sensing that your authority is complete and that you are healthy, even if limited to a human form... there is no other light of hope that could shine brighter to them. This light is what they seek.◞

Dáinsleif turns to the precipice thereafter and walks a couple of steps farther and closer to its edge. Celestial eyes close anew to focus as sapphire flames answer his call immediately, engulfing his form entirely so he can fly forward a couple of meters. He turns again, gloved hand extends towards Neuvillette in invitation to follow. ◜Long enough they have dwelt in darkness without their king, but you can interrupt that time with your presence now and bring them hope that they may live at peace knowing that they have guidance now— O' Leviathan.◞

[reginrokkr]

» @apocryphis asked: ❝ you don’t have to hide them around me. the scars are just part of who you are. and i like all of what i see. ❞ + [ TOUCH ] for sender to trace one of receiver’s scars (from neuvi!)

It is not an every day occurrence for the lunarescent seraph to peel off clothes that would incite recognition to any Khaenri'ahn denizen fortunate enough to have come this far with their consciousness intact —or marginally stable to reminisce olden days where Twilight Sword used to be a relevant figure in society—, like a second skin that bears what little identity Dáinsleif holds dear to his heart as one of his own prides before calamity struck, and a joke by fate in his darkest moments.

As opposed to skin-tight attire that fits like a glove, Bough Keeper opts for a looser attire for a chance to breathe, to feel lunar kissed skin exposed to the air as he reads with interest a book while he sits on a comfortable sofa, a glass of wine to his left for his perusal every time he reaches out for it blindly to wet his lips with the liquor some more.

Nevertheless, it is in light of the Iudex's interest on the exposed skin of his cleavage down part of his chest reflected within iridescent lavender eyes that rouses self-consciousness into hyper-awareness, not out of a meekness to show skin— Dáinsleif is cognizant that his body stands in perfect shape even after centuries of life and that this is a trait of interest in other individuals, but the knowledge that the touch of darkness and Ley Lines littering half of his body combined are on sight.

Reason why he's prompt to reach out with his free hand to tug at the fabric of the white poet shirt to cover himself some, only to stop midway at Neuvillette's words. Hesitance clouds crystalline blues for some moments before his hand falls reluctantly by his side on the plush of the sofa again. Needless to say, his heart drums within the confines of his chest at a more accelerated speed under the draconic gaze, body hair stands roused with the tremor of a sigh that abandons roseate lips at the first warm and soft contact of careful finger pads tracing night-touched skin and spirit veins both. ◜These marks of corruption are naught but a source of shame of what I am. Neither human or monster in full.◞ Laments stream in a thin mumble, too afraid to say aloud.

He cannot blame him for taking interest in new aspects of his physical appearance he just noticed, as Dáinsleif himself isn't any different with the attention he pays to pointed ears and blue filaments he bears doubts about being part of his hair.

Albescent lashes flutter close, preluding the coming of a few more tremulous exhales until the undesired spasms that come byproduct of lack of familiarity to something so vastly different to pain, thinking that it will be more of the same only to be proved otherwise subside. Amidst the strangeness and inner conflict this brings, Dáinsleif feels a tremor of liking that accentuates with the fleeting thought that he has found someone he would trust the beating of his heart under his palm without any concerns that whispers of the Abyss are so prone to provoke.

◜...Even knowing that. What they imply, what they are...◞ Astral pupils tremble within icy sapphire depths, anticipation settling on his fractured mind despite the nagging voice at the back of his head chastizing him for even entertaining to ask something so clear to him— yet so entirely strange when placed under the rex's different prism to see him. ◜Do you still like it all the same?◞

[reginrokkr]

@apocryphis asked: [ 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 ] : sender and receiver are finally about to kiss, but are interrupted. (for neuvi and dain -- with all those melusines around, no one can tell me it did not happen at least once)

Unlike what Neuvillette may believe of him, lunarescent seraph hasn't entirely known in full extent the enormity of longing and yearning that didn't limit themselves to be in someone else's company until a few centuries ago. Just as one cannot expect a bird to fly from the get go just because it was born under that species, the same stands true to humans in being cognizant of how complex sentiments work. Venomous as it may be to one's soul if not healed at the proper moments, long ago Dáinsleif has made the choice to embrace it as one feeling more that bloom every time his heart hankers for his warmth, his smile— his primordial eyes tellers of one thousand emotions difficult to express.

Dáinsleif isn't the most self-aware when deducting the feelings of another towards him as a result of self-loathing hard to let go for too many reasons to count, but he can see in Leviathan's celerity to meet him at the top floor of the palais a wish to reunite sooner at the notion that he's back in Fontaine, to catch up on their endeavors for the time Twilight Sword was absent, to make up for the long distance that so cruelly separated them.

Alas, how could he blame him when he isn't any different?

Neither of them can claim to be the most physically affectionate, or perhaps there is something indescribable that makes them quite the opposite when they reunite, Dáinsleif can't tell. Or it is simply the necessity to burn all yearning away in order to return to neutral grounds, to consume all of it that leads them to stand close as they are on the couch, fingers intertwined atop seraph's thigh and faces drawing so close that they breaths mingle with one another. Anticipation is a bittersweet little thing, causing his heart to flutter within the confines of his chest, for warmth to tingle him and color his star-kissed face. Roseate lips part in quiescent wait to reacquaint with the dragon's own, albescent lashes flutter to a near complete close, open sufficiently to see his beloved until the very end.

And right when they would consummate the painful longing into a sealed kiss, a melusine enters without warning.

Dáinsleif is swift to put proper distance betwixt them as Neuvillette is, sufficient to give the false illusion that they are naught near as intimate as they were about to be. Sapphire eyes flutter close as he exhales contained frustration through his nose. Twilight Sword knows how much the other treasures their moments together, akin to a dragon treasuring its most precious treasure. It is for that reason that Dáinsleif sneaks a hand to touch the small of his back in silent comfort as the melusine turns again to leave, once the urgency of her request is made known.

Worry not for me. Go.

[reginrokkr]

@apocryphis asked: " - truly a fascinating experience. It did make me wonder if the clay resulting from this process would be different, were one to use a different type of water to mix with the soil - and if so, would the resulting ceramic look, or feel different, to the human eye and touch? I did ask the instructor at the end of the class, but it seems my questions were a little too specific even for a person of their expertise." For how long exactly the hydro dragon has been recounting his (many and varied) experiences collected in one half day of holiday, only Dainsleif, unfortunate victim of his ramblings, would be able to tell. The lights of the harbour shine a warm glow against the beginning of blanket night on the other side of the bridge where sovereign and bough keeper have elected to meet and admire the celebrations - not too close to the bustling city, not too far either, so as to not miss the celebrations.

Had one not been aware of the circumstances surrounding them both, one might have wondered what, in the concept of ceramics, could light up such a spark of excitement on the respectable judge's eyes; or why the masked knight at his side would so patiently listen to his endless monologue. Monologue that, fortunately for the poor man, finally comes to a halt, the other seemingly reminded of something important. "I tried my hand at a few trinkets during this class. Knowing that I would meet you here, I took the liberty of... experimenting a little bit." From one of his bags (with no comment or explanation yet offered as to how he had ended up with three of his travel companions' cargo), the Iudex extracts a small package, neatly wrapped to protect it during any travel. Upon opening it, Dainsleif will find a brooch, shaped and painted to elegantly replicate a lumidouce bell - Fontaine's very own flower of partings and, more importantly, reunions. A gentle, amused smile softens the sovereign's features. "You do not have to wear it." He chuckles. "I simply thought it an amusing gift for the occasion."

Neuvillette lets his gaze return to his dear companion's features, as he gives him a moment to decide what to do with his new trinket, inquisitive without scrutinising, only looking for reasons to worry or to settle his concerns, while gloved hand moves on the railing of the bridge to cover Dainsleif's, fingers interlocking together. "I trust your mission in Chenyu Vale went well? I sensed a subtle change in the waters... I do hope everything went as you wished it would?"

Indescribable joy is ever contagious even within a mind that seldom basks in the blessing of positivity, the culprit to blame a dragon reborn in human skin. No matter if the Iudex may think he's enduring his monologue rather than enjoying the experience with him through his words, there is a prospect from all of this that gladdens Dáinsleif the most: for how long he has spent observing human demeanor to learn about them as an outsider, an intruder even to the race— Neuvillette is connecting with his own humanity. What bigger happiness is there than watching his eyes glisten with renewed yearning for the wonders he has missed of humanity?

Sapphire irises follow gloved hands, the renewed sight of all the cargo he has of others and not solely his bring a hint of amusement to roseate lips moments before curiosity etches on pale features as he's presented with a little trinket of his making for him. Dáinsleif has received in the past another equally of Neuvillette's making that even to this day he holds in highest esteem, part of him as it is and with lingering thoughts for him as they did on this special day where the Iudex of the Court of Fontaine allowed himself the inestimable timespan of half a day outside the nation he presides over.

How fitting. One flower for another.

Corners of celestial azures crinkle with glee at the sight of the little flower-shaped brooch, its finesse eligible to contest that of an artisan out of good will, wonder and excitement to learn. And, perhaps to the rex's surprise, Dáinsleif carefully attaches it to the lower lapel of stellar mantle he dons with pride no matter how much it sticks as a sore thumb from the rest of his garment aesthetic, close to his heart. ◜Amusing as you find it to be, it makes a lovely reminder for what's to come when distance is betwixt us again.◞ Of a reunion to look forward to, as he always does. Bough Keeper brings their interlocked fingers to his lips thereafter so he may place a loving kiss of gratitude before resting their hands on the railing of the bridge anew. ◜Thank you, ol Mph Arsl Gaiol.◞

Weren't for Neuvillette's insistence that he becomes part of his free day, perhaps Dáinsleif would've watched the Lantern Rite from the high peaks of Chenyu Vale at the culmination of his self-imposed mission to restore its jade lands back to normalcy, a success fruit of efforts and an understanding heart that even the most detached of illuminated beasts from humanity come to provide with respect and interest to comprehend his reasons.

◜About that...◞ Little did the Iudex know, this time it would be Dáinsleif's turn to host a monologue recounting his contact with a couple of adepti, conflicted sentiments even within creatures such as thus and a good ending to tell that those who dwell the Chenyu Vale will be grateful for centuries to come.

[reginrokkr]

@apocryphis asked: "this is the place." neuvillette announces, as the creek reveals itself before their eyes; entirely isolated from civilisation, bordered and shielded by high cliffs and illuminated only by night skies above and colourful banks of tidalga glowing below the water. the iudex turns to the bough keeper, a content (pleased, even) smile etched at the corner of lips that seldom unseal to profess anything other than the law itself. perhaps it is capricious on his part, to abandon palais mermonia and the possible emergencies that may arise through the night, for this short expedition with dainsleif, but -- after well over four hundred years serving the land as the iudex, perhaps he is permitted a small moment of selfishness.

besides, it is the first time that he goes swimming since focalors restituted his authority to him. sooner or later, the dragon was bound to return to the water. it is only fitting that he would do so with dainsleif as his witness and companion.

the mantle of the iudex had already been discarded and left at the palais. now that they find themselves in this isolated creek, neuvillette rids himself of the rest of his clothing - boots left to the side, trousers, waistcoat, and shirt pooling at his feet, gloves abandoned with the rest. under moonlight sheen, the glow of hinted dragon skin draws lines along the curvature of bone structure and stretched human skin, highlights vishap discoloration the sovereign wears with pride under the gaze of dearest companion. "my appearance has not changed, and yet - even this body feels different." he ushers to the waves, to his witness. witness to whom he turns, unabashed (it is dainsleif, after all - he has seen him in this state before). "i'll understand if you prefer to keep your clothes on, but if you'll lend any credit to my experience -- swimming is infinitely more pleasant without all this encumberment." (perhaps he should consider that there is an in-between between his own cumbersome style and stark nudity. he doesn't.)

(did i remember you mentioning them going skinny dipping and did i run with the idea? yes, yes i did)

Stellar pupils fail to miss primordial depths' resplendence as they gaze upon tranquil waters blanketed by moonlight. The kind of quivering brilliance that denotes melancholia to return whence the dragon of life and all waters came from, or at least, where his natural habitat should be weren't for divine's mockery to allow his rebirth in human form alone. Dáinsleif watches in solemn quiescence as Neuvillette discards every piece of clothing with patient elegance that characterizes him so and poorly contained excitement to become one with the water that he presides over, if only to remember what it feels like to be back home— perhaps to engrave in his memory a life that was never his in this new samsara.

Under lunar sheen, Leviathan looks more breathtaking if possible than he does in the man-made palais that serves as his home. Luminescent waves reflecting on pearlescent skin, tidalga blues coloring the canvas of his body and the reminisce of prolongation of filaments protruding from his head alongside larger fins from the sides make a spectacular image that Twilight commits to memory to revisit in future times when he finds himself thinking back about his beloved when distance separates them.

Dáinsleif snaps out of his reverie at draconic voice calling softly for him, inviting to join him in the water and, while he knew this was bound to happen when Neuvillette expressed his wish to bathe somewhere together that isn't the confines of the palais, he hesitates. For this whole scenery, now complete with its sovereign enjoying his return to his true home, feels too sacred for him to intrude and taint with his presence, abominable as it is. And yet, for every negative sentiment lunarescent seraph harbors within, the light that Leviathan sheds upon him in the form of a premise too simple that is strange for him to not realize sooner than reassuring a greater experience in the state of undress and Dáinsleif's own yearning to meet him, bodies joining together like two perfectly matching puzzle pieces are bigger.

Somewhere in his mind, in a bout of positivity that seldom makes room in his heart, Dáinsleif guesses that Neuvillette is aware of the importance behind making himself been seen in this state, in utmost privacy and intimacy entrusted to him alone.

Ultimately does Dáinsleif huff a chuckle as his head moves gently from one side to another in quiet amusement before he begins to strip himself from the entirety of his clothes up to the mask that covers half of his face, unabashed like the rex was to undress under his watchful gaze. Thus he walks towards the water until he decides that it is sufficient for him to jump and swim towards Neuvillette, to his patiently waiting arms and bright smile that reaches his iridescent eyes as they meet at long last in the water.

Twilight Sword's own arms coil around the dragon's shoulders, sapphire irises quivering with the enormity of emotions that long has it been since they earned an owner. ◜Have you considered that there are in-between terms too?◞ Dáinsleif dares to jest, the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement and affection in equal parts seemingly mirrored by the other. This. This is how he wants to see Neuvillette. Happy and unfettered by mundane obligations, free to do as he pleases even if for a brief moment. Devotion for his beloved makes itself manifest through a gentle caress to the side of his face, tender and amorous, teller of one thousand sentiments that needn't be verbalised.

Within shared tranquility, the weight of Neuvillette's body sinks them both underwater, Dáinsleif at the bottom. Despite the initial jump of his heart, the Bough Keeper remains unaffected by this turn of events, not an ounce of fear in his body as their lips join in a heartfelt kiss. Regardless if he's a mortal or not, he knows that the Iudex wouldn't jeopardize his life on purpose, let alone without a plan in mind to prevent it from happening. Just as soon as this comforting sliver of thought crosses his mind, he could swear that he doesn't lack oxygen in his lungs— as if it is sufficient to breathe him in to keep himself from asphyxia, and so albescent lashes flutter to a definite close to enjoy one of the many expressions of love shared in their limited time, with only moonlight, water and aquatic creatures as their witnesses for this preposterous love born from two beings that by imposed principles ought to be mortal enemies.

[reginrokkr]

» @maquiscursed asked: "Do not open your eyes yet." Neuvillette repeats for the third time, as though Dainsleif bears any chance of doing so, when the Iudex's gloved hand is covering closed sapphires as he guides him by the arm down a sinewy path. The Chief Justice of Fontaine has never been one for surprises -- but, over his many years spent dwelling among humans, he has learnt that surprises were, in fact, an appropriate, and even recommended occurrence for birthdays.

Neither he nor Dainsleif bear much importance to their so-called birthdays, but something this particular year compels the sovereign to, for once, try his hand at this particular custom.

The Iudex and the Bough Keeper leave the trodden path and soon find themselves in high grass, before their steps quickly find soil and sand again; and at last, Neuvillette brings their excursion to a stop. "You may look now." He commands, with a voice so softened, it might as well be a mere request. His hand falls back to his side, and he lets his companion take in the view before them; a tall weeping willow, towering over a crystal clear pond, dying sunlight shimmering between the branches like a cascade of early stars. Upon the 'beach' surrounding the pond, lays a table and two chairs, and a meal expecting its two guests (how the furniture and food were transported and kept at adequate temperature, shall remain a secret of the Palais Mermonia's best staff).

"I thought we might enjoy some time away from the madness of the Palais." Neuvillette muses, before extracting one last surprise, much smaller, but possibly more effortful, from his coat. A small box is handed to Dainsleif; upon opening, he shall find a locket, made of gold and bronze, delicately engraved with azure markings closely resembling the sourcewater patterns adorning his own person (few people know the Iudex to be a craftsman - Dainsleif is now one of them). If the Bough Keeper were to open the locket, he would find, entrapped in sturdy glass casing, a single drop of Spring of the First Dewdrops, shining a faint, pearl-like light within.

"You gave me something to remember you by; I thought it would only be appropriate to return the favour." The dragon of water smiles fondly at his companion - may this droplet of hope and optimism guide him even when his own unwavering hope wavers. "And I promise this dinner is not only made of water. Happy birthday, dearest Dainsleif."

Suspense is not necessarily one of Dáinsleif's cherished things, were he asked. In fact, it brings memories that aren't yet behind him in his long-lasting strife against the Abyss Order where this factor is nerve-racking at best until a clearer outcome shines through. However, when in combination with a presence soothing like holy water to his curse and a gentle touch calming like a balm, Twilight can tolerate it better without opposing resistance nor offering a huff of complaint.

The wait comes to an end at long last and so albescent lashes flutter open to take in the breathtaking sight before them. An emanation of what's been his biggest support for a very long time until his soul encountered repose in another primordial one standing pride and tall in all its cyan glory that pierces through the dyeing orange of the heavens as the sun sets down, all to give room to shy stars to glow crowned by a solemn moon. The clear water of the pond reflecting all colors like aquarelle —how in tune with Neuvillette, to search on purpose a body of water nearby to grant them its beauty— and the table right in front of them, clashing with the scenario in an amusing manner, teller of what the sovereign's insistence to exercise patience and trust in him was about.

And truth to be said, for all the surprise and confusion previous years when this day neared would cause Dáinsleif, Neuvillette never fails to surprise him with something new next. For the longest of time, the abandoned seraph took this day whenever it was possible as a moment of respite and to seek out the comforting presence of the rex, to heal from the solitude that every time becomes heavier the more he grows accustomed to linger in a trusted companion's presence. And today, in commemoration of their new union as lovers, the manner Neuvillette sought to do something for his birthday has bloomed in a different kind.

The Iudex's voice rouses him from his train of thoughts, thus does the knight look at him with interest and nigh puerile curiosity as he watched him fish something from his coat until he's presented a small box. You didn't have to— comes a thought born from small guilt that he has already done enough by bringing him here and arranging dinner for both, but a thought that would never pass past his lips, nevertheless. Dáinsleif opens the box with delicate care, as if his touch would suffice to break it if he weren't careful enough, and so the box reveals a locket that draws the luminary's attention even more.

He takes the little thing in his gloved hand and looks at it, takes in every delicate detail engraved so reminiscent of the innocent culprit that brought him here in the first place. Astral pupils look at primordial echoes for a silent confirmation that he can open it upon noticing that it must conceal something within before he does just that. Sapphire eyes soften at the sight of the dewdrop within and the immediate sentience of Neuvillette's power coalesced within. So small and hidden from external threats, but brilliant and precious when one takes the time to gauge the enormity of its meaning. The locket closes as Dáinsleif's hand closes around it to bring it to his chest, albescent lashes fluttering to a brief close before they open anew to look into draconic eyes.

◜I will treasure it, always.◞ Just as I do you— and our blossoming relationship. As the Iudex' attention returns to the table set for the two of them, Dáinsleif tucks the little locket inside the waistcoat, close to his heart. An amused smile plays on his lips as the Bough Keeper deafly reaches out for Neuvillette's hand to hold in order to guide him to the table as he guided him to this place before, not without pressing a gentle kiss on the back of his hand first. ◜That is for me to judge if it's the case, do you not think?◞ He huffs a soundless chuckle, then he squeezes his hand a tad. ◜Since we're here, let us enjoy this moment, shall we?◞

For filling the void in my heart that would never be filled, and for making me find happiness in a life that knew no justice... I thank you, ol Mph Arsl Gaiol.

[reginrokkr]

@apocryphis asked: “I’ll never get over hearing you say my name.” (from neuvi!)

What does the utterance of a name mean to a higher entity? From every topic of interest Dáinsleif's curiosity was caught, this became prominent in his mind. To the humans below, it is something as natural as breathing. A means to catch someone's attention by calling their name and a means of identification when talking about them when their absence permeates. To higher beings it is different, he noticed. To some, it is as inconsequential as the breaking of a new dawn, for such is the order of this world and so it is taken for granted. To others, it is an act of disrespect, as if the one who utters their name was not granted permission to utter something too holy for them.

For Neuvillette in particular... long ago did Twilight Sword realize that it is a mix of many factors. One of them is to conceal his true origins while at the same time never denying being something different that isn't human, common knowledge to all inhabitants in Fontaine. To blend with them in a way that doesn't make him unreachable as gods make themselves be more often than not. And, as he would put it, for bureaucratic convenience.

But oh, when it's about the name he chose for himself, that he so dearly shared with Dáinsleif— it is a different matter altogether.

Neutral as the Bough Keeper is to the concept of gods, most of the times leaning to more negative grounds due to personal experiences and findings of their true nature and origins in this world, the lunarescent seraph would never consider himself a devout. Even less find holiness in anything that, in this world, is demonic instead. Nevertheless, to not only be granted permission to address Neuvillette by a name that identifies more accurately what he is, but marvel in the sound of his name when it pours from his lips... it brings an indescribable joy in Dáinsleif's heart. One that prompts him to repeat it again, just for the satisfaction of his lover and his own upon witnessing him at his happiest. And so, he does.

◜Leviathan.◞

His name comes as a murmur past roseate lips that enclose in a gentle kiss to his ear thereafter. It is delicate and faint, yet not devoid of the enormity of love mirrored with every action he does instead of an open declaration of romance. He whom is no longer human nor monster; neither human or celestial, his lips should've been considered as no less than poison when uttering his name. The remote dare to even say it should've been considered sinful, a reason to feel disdain for being emboldened so. Nevertheless... it is not so. Instead, what glacial sapphires see is that it causes everything but that.

And because of it, even in a shattered heart such as Dáinsleif there is place for tranquility and peace every time he mutters Leviathan's name. So tender and gentle as if he were to hold delicate porcelain with his voice, a crystal clear means to demonstrate that never once Twilight considered anything that isn't his beloved dragons' best interests. A sinner he may be, even he can find holiness in little things that gods would argue otherwise. Of course they would.

Leviathan's name of all things, that remains on the top of an otherwise empty list of sacred manifestations Dáinsleif has encountered in his quincentennial life.

[reginrokkr]

@apocryphis asked: ‘  every day i am moved by the waves you made in my past.  ’ (from neuvi!)

Hyperawareness is one of the states Dáinsleif has apprehended over the many centuries he was forced to coexist with an unkind curse and an even merciless corruption that permeates his body and threatens to make home of his mind and soul if he leaves it unchecked. Recent endeavors in Fontaine has muted this hyperawareness he carries every night as the echoes of the Abyss rise from the darkness of this world, nightmares cease to be as if they now seek to escape from luminescence brought by none other than a true, holy being, commander of life and sovereign of all waters.

Suffice to say, slumbering has become an activity lunarescent seraph learned to enjoy again, specially in moments where rest is mandatory should he desire to continue his self-impossed mission. It's a moment as natural as breathing that no longer brings him grief when in the presence of his beloved rex that, unbeknownst to him, became a warden of his sleep just by allowing him to sleep with him.

And even if hyperawareness is muted now, Twilight Sword is sentient to the lack of warmth he feels by the side of the bed, slightly colder to the touch of the back of his hand in search of the other's body. Albescent lashes flutter open as roseate lips part to heave an exhale, eyes veiled with sleep forming the silhouette of Neuvillette by the great windows. Sluggish as he feels, Dáinsleif crawls out of bed to seek the missing warmth he expected on the bed. Strong arms envelop around the other's midsection loosely as his face buries on the crook of his neck.

Sleepy as he is, he can make out a silent huff of a laugh at the gesture and so he answers with an incomprehensible murmur of his own, warms tightening a tad more as if complaining about Leviathan finding amusement in this. Not like it is motive of anger, far from the truth. It's a moment of bliss he wishes would extend until the infinity of time, and that he would allow himself to indulge in this joy more than he does.

◜Every day i am moved by the waves you made in my past.◞

Roseate lips press a gentle kiss on the column of his neck in answer that he listened first, while his still tired mind processes his words and builds a coherent answer of his own. Albescent lashes flutter open to reveal sapphire irises above the Iudex's shoulder, warm and joyful that he would cause anything of importance in his life, let alone that it would move him so. ◜Positively, I pray.◞ A hint of laugh is woven with his next exhale before he nestles his head on the dragon's shoulder blade.

Like two identical drops of water they are, and so fate saw fit that they cross paths to never take different roads again. Each fighting for what they think is just and fair in magnitudes hard to understand by others if not cognizant of the greatest scheme of the world, yet whose causes align towards one same goal. Dáinsleif has learned that he isn't solely what he decided to do and what he will leave behind, as Neuvillette isn't entirely his former life, his past nor his role as the Iudex either. In the end, they are two men yearning to be understood and loved, to be there personally or otherwise in times when they are on the verge of losing their path or sorrow becomes too much to bear, so the other may become the light that will guide them back to the main path.

First rays of sunlight escape the horizon, prompting Dáinsleif to open his eyes again and prop his chin over his lover's shoulder. ◜I have never found grander happiness since tragedy struck until I met you.◞ Now more wakened and aware, words denote earnest honesty. ◜Thank you... for entering in my life and allow me to permeate in yours, Neuvillette.◞

[reginrokkr]

» @maquiscursed asked: a kiss between furrowed brows to try and comfort (you know from who 😔)

Every eventide fall brings the most terrifying darkness to those who don't stand entirely under light's shade or luminosity brilliance, whispers of the Abyss grow louder and all demons concealed within roused with invigorated drive to crawl from the skin of the cursed outside or scream in pain byproduct of conflicting celestial light within that, like moonlight will never be silenced by night's black mantle, neither will the abandoned seraph's.

With it comes excruciating pain that never goes away nor it ever ameliorates with continuous building of pain tolerance and, despite Dáinsleif's best effort at concealing it, fair eyebrows knit in a frown within the composure he insists to uphold until he returns to his own chambers. For even if he knows it is safe to present himself however he is to Neuvillette —either out of courtesy of reciprocating the rex's confidence to do so with him, as an expression of shared trust or both—, he loathes to show the worst of him to the Iudex. The most immediate justification for that being his sorrowful gaze at the earliest notice of pain, of concern and lament as if all of this were his own.

Albescent lashes flutter close to take deep breaths, having proved in the past effective to calm his alarmed senses back intro tolerant tranquility just for a little longer until both of them part to sleep each on their room. Amidst his exercise to calm down he feels softness of plush lips pressing a kiss betwixt his brows, prompting Twilight to open them sufficiently to note his beloved's merciful attempt to make him feel better. Stellar pupils quiver within sapphire depths, half-lidded as they are, roseate lips part to heave a sigh of newfound relief he didn't know he would feel when pain flourishes in all its inclemency. ◜Forgive me.◞

It is far from the first time Neuvillette saw this within centuries of blooming relationship the two of them had and even yet, regardless of how much he learned about his own pain spikes, hardly ever it was from his own mouth as much as it must've been from observation alone. Opposite to him, ever the honest one who never once hesitates to communicate how he feels in all his confusion and disorientation as new humane sentiments weigh on his heart, no matter how indecent it may be of him as the maximum exponent of this nation or embarrassing to him, if he ever felt that way. Perhaps... perhaps he would do better in practising the same as Leviathan does, if only to give him more concrete information of what he feels like instead of the sorrowful thought of a mind drifting within a whirlpool's eye with naught specific and thousands of painful beliefs, right or otherwise.

◜I must admit...◞ Strong chest rises and falls in a deep breath, albescent lashes open further to reveal glimmering crystalline blues as his hand reaches for the other to bring it to his face. ◜...you make it feel better.◞ It is not a white lie or a half truth to make Neuvillette feel better, no— but earnest truth to at least give him a spark of hope that not everything is futile and, however little the gestures, they contribute to his betterment. Dáinsleif nuzzles lovingly the palm of the dragon's hand before his own lips plant a soft kiss on the same spot where an intriguing mark is displayed on his gloves, he noticed.

◜The pain tends to grow bigger at night, when the demonic darkness of this world is at its more influential.◞ Hesitant as he is, his refusal to let Neuvillette in the dark despite the knowledge he already counts with is bigger. ◜Strangely enough, it would seem that my nervous system is less prone to confound your touch with a magnified version as per the corruption's distortion. Almost as if... it has grown accustomed to it.◞ There is naught Dáinsleif has to validate this nor he knows if it makes sense altogether, but there is no denial that one way or another, he feels soothed. Either because it has been long enough since he acquainted himself with a merciful, soft touch of another or perhaps because he learned to trust his eyes more, to ground himself more on the dragon's good heart despite the lingering pain.

Long fingers tighten their hold on Leviathan's hand a touch more, glacial sapphires bore into iridescent lavenders, a vulnerable gaze even he would scold himself for presenting himself in such degree of weakness if were he see himself. ◜...Sleep with me, Neuvillette.◞ What would be otherwise a hesitant question born from the belief of being too emboldened is nothing but a plea, in truth— a result of growing confidence in himself that, despite the fact that his broken mind may think otherwise, he, too, matters.

[reginrokkr]

» @maquiscursed asked: I hope to breathe in you. I hope my body will be the blood your roots drink. (from neuvi! roots, ley lines, irminsul, i could not resist)

Something about eventide causes the rising of blooming sentiments hidden within, thoughts discarded out of a higher wish to not carry them out in case they are not on the same page yet or it is too soon to partake in more intimate endeavors. Tonight should've been a night like any other when both quincentennial men emerge from their private bathrooms after a deserved bath to calm their senses from a tiring day and to get cleaned and ready for the next.

Perhaps it is a sudden realization of how equally beautiful Neuvillette looks without clipping part of his hair or the lighter garment he wears, a stark difference from his daily life covered in layer after later of clothes. Perhaps there is something his draconic gaze has found in him too, which he ignores, but that it suffice to draw him closer and for Dáinsleif to meet him halfway— hands ready to cradle with utmost tenderness pristine features while the other's draw him closer by the waist, as if their hands have acquired a life of their own and know where their home is.

Albescent lashes flutter close when warm breathing caresses his face, a clear indicator that the rex seeks a more intimate closeness that this fallen seraph isn't opposed to provide. Roseate lips part, ready to welcome not-so-hesitant ones in a waltz that the two of them have mastered with the passages of time ever since mutual consensus led them to enter in a new phase of an already satisfactory relationship. Dáinsleif hums pleasantly at the entrance of his warm tongue in his mouth, seeking naught but feel and commit to memory everything there is to have. Twilight himself has in the myriad of kisses they exchanged, none of them rushed nor desperate, but tranquil and placid as if they had all the time in the world and it doesn't matter if it slips through their fingers.

And the truth is that for neither of them are concerned by time.

In a moment of what seems like bravery or curiosity on Neuvillette's part, a shiver runs down Dáinsleif's spine that the dragon is quick to notice and connect as a reaction to tracing his thumb over the luminary's hipbone adorned with a ley line. The kiss is interrupted to look into one another's eyes, Twilight's own softening as a means to provide reassurance. ◜I like it.◞ It is strange to be vocal like this, but in a moment where both of them are about to enter in an unknown land strange to both, he finds it mandatory to be as clear as possible to not give rise to insecurities— even if there is a spark of timidness coming from him in doing so.

The kiss resumes and Dáinsleif cannot help but sigh in his beloved's mouth as he feels his touch more confident, as if he seeks to register by touch what it feels like to touch directly a ley line. Of course, the former knight has caught on some reactions of Neuvillette in the past that beckons him to touch and explore, to offer him in kind a positive stimulus as he does him while they slowly move blindly towards the comfort of the king-sized bed in the Iudex's personal chambers.

Blind fingers reach out to caress pure white tresses, they make their way up to one of the marine filaments that drew Dáinsleif's attention in the past and garnered such an intriguing reaction out of the dragon. As he did back then, he caresses it with the back of his finger and twirls it around it thereafter, mindful to do it sufficiently loosely as to not pinch a nerve. How else would he have sentience on the filaments if he lacked them? Dáinsleif feels that Neuvillette has reached the bed with the back of his knees and the kiss is interrupted once more so he may lay on the bed, soon to be followed by the seraphim crawling to reach to his eye level.

Sapphire irises soften at the majestic sight below him, his long tresses spread over the pillow like a halo, his eyes glimmering with a light he hasn't seen until then, his kiss-stained lips parted and inviting for more. And more Dáinsleif would seek, weren't for the fact that his eyes take note of the paleness of his bare neck that all of a sudden feels more enticing in the face of exploring the unknown.

◜I hope to breathe in you. I hope my body will be the blood your roots drink.◞

If Dáinsleif felt any hesitance to allow himself do to his heart's content, Neuvillette's confirmation to proceed dispelled it at once. He lowers himself to press a kiss on his lips— sweeter and shorter in comparison to its predecessors as his hand cups his jaw. ◜Your wish is my command... Leviathan.◞ He would whisper sweeter still on his lips before his own anchor themselves on the other side of his jaw, soon to descent to the awaiting column of his neck. Dáinsleif commits to memory every tremor his lips cause, every sigh the rex exhales wanting for more and marks it like a treasure map on his mind as he makes pauses to breathe in his scent.

He feels hands balling into weak fists on his back, shirt and all, and Dáinsleif is quick to nod his head in understanding before he withdraws swiftly to remove his shirt and let it pool on the floor beside the bed, hands seeking to help his lover do the same for the stars and moon as their sole witnesses in a night that promises to be a long expedition in pursuit of a treasure trove. Twilight Sword's breath hitches on his throat at the pristine skin visible just for his crystalline blues to see, unmarred unlike his own night-touched skin and dusted with details of an ancient origin he would've never guessed with every layer of clothes Neuvillette wears.

Curious fingers reach out to his shoulder, attentive eyes take in the favorable reaction his lover has, as if quietly praying to let the touch linger— and so he does. He notices the difference of temperature compared to his human skin, colder and smoother. His other hand rises to tuck pale strands of hair behind his ear before lowering himself once more to kiss the glowing mark he observes. Beautiful. Dáinsleif's exploration proceeds as nomad lips reach to his chest, sapphire eyes rise to look at the sovereign as he plants a gentle kiss over the spot of his heart and lets himself linger there some more to feel the soft drumming of his heart against his lips as his eyes flutter close with the coming of a tide of emotions that threatens to burn the corners of his eyes for no other reason than the knowledge that Neuvillette trusts him deeply like this to expose himself to his eyes— to let him do as he pleases in a moment of vulnerability.

Roseate lips proceed to kiss farther down below to his stomach and stops there upon encountering the limit of his pants, he huffs a laugh at the visible reaction of his beloved upon reaching what he registers as one more sensitive spot to add to the list. Dáinsleif rests his cheek on stomach, celestial azures filled with love locking onto his beautiful iridescent ones and slender fingers teasing the waistband of his pants. ◜Forgive me, but I am afraid that if we continue... I may not be able to hold my excitement to see you entirely.◞

I pray that you have no obligations tomorrow, if you choose to proceed, ol Mph Arsl Gaiol.

[reginrokkr]

» @maquiscursed asked [ AWAY ]: the sender, using their fingertips, tenderly sweeps a few strands of hair out of the receiver’s face so as to see them more clearly. (from neuvi to dain bc i'm drowning in thesis for a couple more hours BUT the long haired dain you sent me still lives rent free in my mind)

It is said that when one predict themselves to be in a vulnerable state in the foreseeable future, they will choose any place that could mildly do its job at providing them protection until they are back to health. While this statement may work for Dáinsleif at times, self-awareness of the circumstances that follow him— seek him to bring him down to his knees and submit. Reason why under special needs he must take special precautions.

Reason why he chose the depths of Érinnyes Forest as his place of momentary repose, just enough to let the deluge come to pass and all the people be brought to safety. Whenever Twilight treads these grounds, a sense of nostalgia and melancholy fills his chest, pleading him for warm home's respite. For someone like him that long ago has lost his home, this would be unconceivable, a result of delirium that comes from centuries of activity without ever stopping once to consider his own necessities. Not because he lacks them— he, as any other creature of celestial origins or otherwise, harbors his own yearnings.

Then why, one might ask, his soul and the word home combined tug at his heartstrings whenever he walks nearby this area? It is because none other than the willow amidst the lake deeper within the forest. Although different than the Axis Mundi that had compassion for his shattering soul, its Bough Keeper can recognize any manifestations of it on the overworld even when distance is so bold to stay between them.

Vulnerable and exposed as he is did the lunarescent seraph make his way to the top of the rock that serves as a base to the seemingly floating tree and sits there. Like a mother would to her child, leaves of blue react in providing soothing warmth through azure glow, branches extend even farther down near the grass as if to conceal him, lakelight lilies emit luminescent motes to further hide him in a protective maze only for select chosen ones with sufficient authority and recognition of a benevolent soul to be allowed pass to the now fleeting core of the tree.

And yet, even with this kind protection the Bough Keeper isn't entirely safe: for there are those who would gnaw at its roots just to have a way towards him. Like moths that rather than being attracted to light to bask in it, seek to destroy it so it won't bring more harm to them than it already had. I am sorry. One last thought crosses luminary's mind before he enters into a slumber, guilt forming within him as sentience of this tree's beginning of pain registers in his mind— and a promise to soothe its pain soon.

Look at you, all pitiful and weak for falling for that old dragon's enchantment. As it is customary, that nagging voice that would cause terrors to anyone unaccustomed to otherworldly presence connected to their soul returns with the coming of a tide of darkness when Ley Lines are disrupted, and thus the protection She grants to him against the advancement of the corruption dwindles. Once again you would act against your heart's desires. Do you not think you deserve better than to be used as a tool for saving someone else when you need saving the most?

I thought you would know better by now, after centuries of sowing torment within me— that I deserve nothing. Abyss' chaos is tempting, intoxicating as many who have fallen to its will would describe it. It knows what to whisper in one's ear, to beckon them to do the final jump into a pit of desolation and never ending darkness impossible to escape from once within. If there is one good thing unending guilt and endless self-loathing has, is that he cannot fall as easily to desires tainted with defilement.

And yet you would fall for his affections and sweetened words professing love for you. Isn't you who believes that love should heal, not hurt? Then, why would he seek to harm you at the expense of his selfish desire to put those sinners before you?

Fair eyebrows react, knitting in a frown. Coexisting with a man's will brings consequences such as baring his heart to him without intending to do so. This— this is the most dangerous of all in being too weak to repress his voice and presence. That he knows him all too well, even past his own fronts of negativity towards himself. No matter how many layers would call for an irremediable cause, he would know that deep down... his heart still longs for someone to be with him. Someone that filled with awareness of his own circumstances and self-imposed duties won't run away. Someone to share burdens with... someone to spark a light in this dark world of his.

Intimidating draconic pupils quiver within iridescent depths in the face of an adversity that has an immediate fix, and even then he would be afflicted with struggle at the knowledge of what this will cause to him. The frown in his eye combined with a tremble of lips, unmistakeable. ◜I know it must be done... but has there not been enough suffering, without me having to drag you into the storm?◞

He will never forget the shock that caused his words, immensely touching as the vastness of the seas he possesses authority over— so in line with a heart of gold filled with compassion for someone no bigger than a sinner or an archenemy if one were to think about the endless strife betwixt their kin. Nor he will ever forget the tenderness of his touch, an anticipated balm to his soul for the incoming pain he would come to experience.

◜I will find you when the storm in here and in the Ley Lines has passed.◞

For being someone full of confidence in being well-versed in my heart's grievances and desires, you have lost sight of the most important of all. Yes, I am a firm believer that love should not bring pain and yes, my longing to encounter someone meant for me isn't any less existent. However... his fight is my fight. It is in proving that humanity will rise against the divine injustice and an even more unfair order over this world that gives me strength to continue, that there is hope to defy this world and re-weave all threads of fate... This pain is but a small price to pay for everything grand that this world will achieve.

A spark of light makes itself manifest in the boundless darkness within his mind and so the voice fades to nothingness. Sensing the presence of another when he should be alone, albescent lashes flutter open in time to see Neuvillette's face close to his, his fingers gentle and loving to sweep away pale strands of hair. Exhaustion borne eyes crinkle at the edges in a smile that one day may remember its way to roseate lips, weary heart light all of a sudden as if a great weight has been lifted.

◜You came.◞ Though nonexistent of a command, luminescent branches retreat to their initial position as if by one, deeming their protection no longer necessary. Gloved hands reach out to cup his beloved's face tenderly just as he did before they had to part ways moments prior to the deluge. He is here. He kept his promise. Glacial sapphires soften as he brings his face closer to press their foreheads together, to feel his breathing as the ultimate proof that no amount of illusions born from the darkness of his heart could fake this. ◜Worry not. I am alright.◞ Alright wouldn't be precisely the best descriptor to explain his current condition, granted that he had an uncomfortable conversation with an unwelcome presence in his mind and this was filled with even more unpleasant thoughts whose magnitude doesn't match with unavoidable sentiments— for even if he may think that what that man said doesn't reflect his own thoughts, the Abyss never draws something out of thin air. It is born, without a doubt, from preexistent feelings of his heart mixed with darkness he's shrouded in about his person.

A soft sigh is released after calming himself in the soothing presence of the sovereign, then a gentle nod follows as his hands withdraw and drop to the grass to help himself stand. ◜It is not over yet.◞ Weakened as he may currently be, he extends a hand to help Neuvillette stand too— in the back of his mind, cruel laughter resonates coupled with a forced reminder that he, too, needs saving. But it doesn't have to be now, nor it is like it will never come— no. Long ago has it made itself present in his soul... the moment he chose him. ◜There is one more thing to do. The willow... it is weeping.◞

Thank you for protecting me. Now, allow me to return the favor and alleviate your pain.

[reginrokkr]

» @maquiscursed asked: Beneath the still waves of the sea, there lies entire civilisations, whose legacies and homes now rest in the depths. Neuvillette seldom gets the opportunity to explore them, no matter how comforting their cold darkness, their waters swirling with echoes of memories, the songs of which reverberate at the core of his very soul. Today is one such rare, lucky day; amidst the tall walls of the fallen civilisation, Neuvillette looks up, gazing at the sea shining blue through the membrane separating it from the air pocket he and his companion had ventured into.

Conversation has come to a close, the sovereign of water having let it dwindle down like trickling water -- too entranced, perhaps, by the beauty of their surroundings. Still, he senses the Bough Keeper's familiar, comforting, comfortable presence right behind him, at his side, yet one step removed as if to grant him the privacy of his own thoughts. "Beautiful, isn't it?" The dragon murmurs, reptilian eyes softening in their edge as he gazes into the depths; gladdened, that he, for once, has the chance to share this view with a cherished companion. Of all people, Dainsleif is the only one he would entrust with such a treasure, so near to his heart.

"I wish the duties of the Iudex would grant me more time to come swimming in those parts." He confesses with a small smile (he hears a shuffle behind him and senses Dainsleif drawing nearer, shoulder to shoulder - perhaps muffling a chuckle, too). And the Iudex, burdened by his duties, is about to add another observation; when a most curious sensation snaps his jaw shut. A frisson travels up his spine, involuntarily, a spontaneous reaction to an unfamiliar feeling: a delicate touch along the blue filaments people so often mistake for two strands of his hair. Unable to repress his surprise, Neuvillette turns his head, amethyst gaze meeting Dainsleif's crystal blue, a little dumbfounded, a little awe-struck; expression melting into a nostalgic fondness as soon as he shakes himself out of it. "Forgive me. I had not thought those... peculiarities of mine had caught your attention. It is... quite a new feeling."

Crystal blue gaze, star-branded and clearer than the purest water, remains on him; and perhaps it is only natural for the dragon of all waters to find himself so drawn to them, lulled by the Bough Keeper's delicate and careful attentions. Down in the depths, in the comfortable shadows of civilisations gone by, a dragon may yet succumb to the temptation of a new treasure; this one less tangible than those of old, but in his eyes, no less precious. He is not entirely sure when his hand had risen to rest at Dainsleif's waist; nor when the both of them had drawn so close.

He is not entirely sure either what boldness possesses him when he leans to capture Dainsleif's lips with his own, a gentle, reserved, curious, devoted brush; but he knows that, madness or no, the longing in his heart that leads directly to the man standing directly in front of him, is the same as that that will always lead him back to the depths.

Distant echoes of a song, bearer of unknown messages to those whom dare delve into the depths of the sea and visit an already dead civilization of old, reverberate as above, so below this no man's land where it hovers betwixt the fabric of Teyvat and the dark Abyss that deigns not silence the auric light of Remuria's capitol. Pristine white buildings bathed in an even whiter aura he has yet to decipher where it comes from rise as high as the heavens, paths carved with gold inviting to all who made it this far to bask in the glory this civilization once was. Deep within Dáinsleif, a sense of nostalgia rests at the inevitable comparison in his mind with another kingdom of gold he knows all too well: a perfection that was naught but falsehood bathed in a noble color made dirty with abyssal ooze and blood of innocents fell by the hands of unjust gods.

Twilight Sword could continue to lament the fall of Khaenri'ah as well as entertain the idea in an inner game to find similarities and differences between both kingdoms, but he does not.

For this is a grand occasion to Neuvillette whom, in all his kindness and perceived excitement to share a treasure concealed under a thick mantle of water, brought him here to re-discover together and marvel in the beauty that water keeps concealed from the eyes of many that won't ever be able to conceive such majesty. A low hum follows suit in answer to his initial question, yet glacial sapphires no longer view the marvellous sight ahead of them— but a much closer one right in front of him.

Self-proclaimed holy gods repudiate that which does not enter within their schemes and is destroyed by inclement and self-entitled judgement, eyes to never be cast again to that which was considered as filthy detritus. Yet you whom linger in the Realm of Light, only aspired to be reached by those of noble soul and exceptional existence in this world not only deign to acknowledge its existence way after its glory has been long faded away, but find beauty in it— what it used to be and will continue to be irregardless of what caused its downfall. No matter if once, in your past life, sought to destroy.

Dáinsleif's eyes narrow as they keep locked on the mighty and holy figure before him, clad in light that could blind a sinner like him. Yet mistake yourself not, for he is not afraid of staying in the light. He takes in albescent, flowing hair that moves with the existing breeze, nigh glowing ablaze with auric light that stems from within the capitol's heart— and his own. The way iridescent eyes quiver in marvel to the splendorous civilization remains and lips part slightly agape now that no one is there to be puzzled about the prospect that their Iudex also possesses a puerile-like fascination and curiosity. He also takes notice of blue filaments reasonably to be mistaken by his own hair that fail to not induce curiosity in lunarescent seraph's heart.

The luminary snaps out of his reverie at the sound of the rex, in time to listen carefully to a confession not to be verbalized lightly. Out of sense of guilt for his duties, or sentiment that he should not bask in too many indulgences, Dáinsleif ignores. A light chuckle reverberates within his chest regardless, a shake of his head as if to say that it is no wonder he bears these yearnings— a dragon sovereign over water will always long to return home one day, or just for a limited amount of time, no matter how short.

From this up close, astral pupils return to the filaments that previously caught his attention and, out of sheer curiosity and physical display of fondness that has been increasing gradually with the passage of time, a gloved hand reaches out to caress one of them with the back of a finger. The visible reaction Neuvillette had was mirror with one of Dáinsleif's own: immediately withdrawing his hand and startle, crystal blue eyes wide and frozen stars coming to life to tremble within. ◜My apologies.◞ He mutters at the same time as the Iudex begs for forgiveness, causing the edges of his own eyes to crinkle in a smile his lips have forgotten to draw as an explanation for his reaction follows suit. So he has sensitivity there, a mental note Dáinsleif will make sure to not forget in their private moments.

◜Unlike what you may believe, they always have. It it simply that I never acted on my curiosity until now.◞ Realization that he might sound a bit too curious begets a fleeting moment of embarrassment he masks behind clearing his throat, a moment to recompose himself. ◜A pleasant feeling, I hope.◞

Dáinsleif doesn't know what has gotten into him to have a sudden urge for closeness in a moment or place that invites everything but, being far from the coziness of Neuvillette's residence at Palais Memonia or the warmth of home, where they spend time the most together. Nor he knows what is it that the rex seeks in his eyes, looking into them so intently as if he wants to find something within them. Per inertia does a hand rise to rest over the spot of his heart, to feel the soft yet vigorous drumming against the palm of his hand as their bodies come closer— not sufficiently close to press yet not distant enough to not feel the brush of his body. And, as if enchanted by a spell, all senses go momentarily numb until he feels a spark that makes him hyperaware anew with a tender brush of lips.

Wary heart skips a beat at the gentle touch, sapphire stars quiver within softened depths of celestial blues. A moment of confusion and fear is written within them, soon to be overwritten by a more powerful sentiment of warmth blasting from inside out, dusting moonkissed cheeks with shades of rose as one primal instinct makes itself manifest. Of course, he is not blind to the lovely blush bringing the dragon's pale cheeks to life, sign that ultimately leads him to snake his hand behind the nape of his head in quiescent prayer that he doesn't part from this moment. Then, Dáinsleif dares to chase his lips for a proper kiss as albescent lashes flutter close.

Suffice to say Twilight isn't versed with the intricacies of love that remain in the realm of physical contact and experienced. Because of that, he cannot provide more than a firmer press of lips to assuage any hesitance that could've emerged in Neuvillette's heart, and then to experiment by allowing the other's bottom lip slip through his roseate own before chasing it back again. Before he knows it, Dáinsleif's arms hold him holy, with utmost care and yet strong enough to denote a desire for closeness.

And just like you would grace with your light an olden civilization in rubble, in all your compassion and the goodness of your heart you would give this sinner life anew as the rex of life you also are— making out of death-like darkness fearless night that does not lack the light of the moon and stars.

Pale lashes flutter open to reveal crystal blue depths when the kiss ends, yet Dáinsleif refuses to depart from Neuvillette's warmth and closeness. Thus he presses his forehead against the other's instead, roseate lips bearing a tingle of the permeating presence of the dragon's lips on his own still, and part to heave a shaky exhale born from nervousness and exhilaration from a first time that not even his wildest dreams would carry.

...I ignore if I still have the capacity to love, so if it happens that I do not, I pray that you at least allow me to offer you my humble devotion. O' Mph Arsl Gaiol.