#◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος θ: λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν┊advent of ragnarök.┊

[twilightichor]

✧ @apocryphis asked: the campfire crackles quietly in the desert night, the only sound permeating the immeasurable silence of the vast red sands. not even a breeze to shift the sands of the dunes, not even the crawling and creeping of scorpions or nocturnal desert foxes. draped in a wide cloak, its hood half covering his face, al-haitham gazes at the chisel mirror conjured up just above the palm of his hand; lost in the subtle reflections of the fire against the pale, green shimmer of dendro. it is a quiet night in the desert -- but al-haitham knows all too well how quickly the sands can turn in those parts. he remains alert, focused; and his free hand deftly moves to the sword next to him upon hearing the subtle sound of footsteps approaching, piercing gaze darting into the night.

only for eyes to widen in surprise as a familiar silhouette finally comes into view under the flickering light of the fire.

"dainsleif?" he calls out, incredulous. he has no seen the man since their very first adventure into the rainforest, amidst dreams and memories. truth be told, he had not expected to see him again. realising the surprise that must be painted all over his face, the scribe forces composure to return to stoic features; shoulders relaxing, but hand barely just straying away from his sword (the slightest movement in the desert might very well draw unwanted company, whether dainsleif had intended it or not - best remain careful). "fancy seeing you here." he comments, dryly, which, in al-haitham's world, equates to as much cordiality as he can muster. consider his curiosity piqued (in al-haitham's world: the highest form of compliment). "i would say it's a small world, but that would not be true in the red sands. question is, were you looking for me, or for the ancient ruins that just so happen to be another three hours away from here...?"

The harshness of the desert forgives none, just as equitable as its counterpart the rains of Fontaine that sheds its justice over everyone equally, no matter if gods or humans, poor or rich. Its golden sands a stark contrast from the emerald foliage from the rainforests and what little area had survived surrounding the remnants of the former Hydro Archon and a creature formed from the might of three goddesses for one same purpose. Its dryness and merciless fauna a reminder of bygone times when all the verdure that existed in this location turned to dust in mere nights, when the wave of the Abyss hit everything on its way at its hardest and precipitated everything to death. Even the true sovereign that once ruled these lands had to shed her rich, jade skin and coat herself with the amber dust of the sands in the name of adaptation and even less kinder and romantic yet— survival.

These days, there are two kinds of people who dare to tread the expanse of these sands: those who have been shunned from their original homes and now need to do something— anything to bury lost riches to make a living out of their price and those knowledgeable enough to be aware of what they're doing and where they're heading, even under the immensity of night's veil and obscurity, with only the frigid light of the moon above serving as a fragile guide to wander these parts.

For someone of the likes of Dáinsleif, it makes little difference if he treads perilous places under the broad daylight or the more subtle moonlight. So when he spots amidst nowhere a small bonfire in his way to the place of choice, of course it would pique his own curiosity to get closer and inspect for any signs of assistance or just come in passing and leave just as he first came. What he wouldn't imagine is that it's the descendant of the skeptic scholars, al-Háitham the one he would find here.

◜Fancy meeting you here, too.◞ There is no falsehood in his voice nor anything to denote otherwise in what he says. The man himself was a pleasant discovery in the rainforests, back when the necessity to help reached his senses in invisible pulses that those who are well-versed in the profundity of foliage's importance would feel. In his case, he cannot claim to have any deep relationship with it weren't for deep-rooted bonds with Irminsul. Dáinsleif nods his head as a salute before he joins the scribe by the bonfire, sitting down at a prudent distance from him and facing the opposite way his gaze does in order to guard any possible threats that may come their way. Albescent lashes flutter close for a fraction as he exhales a silent chuckle at the question posed to him, so like an ever curious mind like his.

◜You give me too much credit.◞ At least in this case, where his is none and far less impressive than he would expect, perhaps as a result of their co-joined feats in the land of dreams and adventure with the Aranara. Sapphire irises open thereafter, boring into the other's emerald ones. ◜Perhaps this might make your bubble burst, but the reality is that none of the options you've stated are what led me here. As a matter of fact, I was just passing by.◞ That is the truth, no more and no less than that. Sometimes there needn't be a deep reason to appear somewhere at an unexpectedly right time to meet an old soul.

But perhaps, there is something that can feed his curious soul and which he can satisfy for allowing him to stay without inviting the wrath of the sword he keeps close.

Thus he looks towards the far north from where he came from after helping out the kind of an old companion of his, back when he emerged from the vowels of Teyvat to roam these lands as the only alternative left, granted that he had no desire to linger anymore where the presence of what ruined his homeland is at its highest— a solemn look in starry gaze. ◜Have you ever heard about the tales of war in which people from two different nations united their strength to fight for a common goal, al-Háitham?◞

[reginrokkr]

Tag dump repost #2

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος α: αναμνήσεις από μια χαμένη ζωή┊kingdom of celestia.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος β: descensus in regnum tenebram┊kingdom of khaenri’ah.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος γ: αγκασμένος στην αθανασία ┊aftermath of disaster.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος δ: ψάχνοντας τη χαμένη μοίρα┊to the journey’s end.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος ε: ανακαλύπτοντας την αλήθεια┊100 years of penance.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος ζ: ενδιάμεση της ανθοφορίας┊way of the prophet.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος η: μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊twilight’s prologue.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος θ: λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν┊advent of ragnarök.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ chasing luminous river of stars ┊noctilucent crossroads.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ rupture of the everlasting darkness ┊astral reverberations α.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ rupture of the everlasting darkness ┊astral reverberations β.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ where edges of eternity collapse ┊aetherial crisis.┊

[twilightichor]

✧ @apocryphis asked: ‘ perhaps i will take up dancing again ’ (from xiao, in reference to his nuo dance!)

Serenity reigns on the field of inteyvat flowers in gradual bloom, the gentle breeze acting as a greeter to the first petals that dare to expose themselves to the nature. Luminescent anthers emanate their golden glow in answer, sending to the tranquil twilight sky their motes of light. Amidst pale flowers dances an old soul, protected by a mask that brings the wearer more nightmares for what it's worth and armed with a polearm to chase the demons away. In the face of cruel divinity that little has to say over trivialities like these, they would rise a brow at the notion of a demon vanquishing other demons away.

In the eyes of the knowledgeable —amidst Dáinsleif hardly considers himself one— and in star-shaped pupils, there is a winged creature whom long ago had his wings cut by divine despotism doing the first steps to reminisce what it feels like to fly again. Perhaps an unfair thought to have, for this remains an act chained to the earth under his feet nonetheless. But maybe in a clear mind where no more nightmares or pain exist to torture him, he would think the same: that dancing may be like flying on the ground.

This is what crossed Twilight Sword's mind as soon as Xiao expressed his thoughts aloud, an even more extraordinary rarity that they have nothing to do with his karmic debt or his self-imposed duty to the world even when long ago he's been set free. Lunarescent knight takes this as an expression of trust, byproduct of their deep bound —shattered and filled with discrepancies as it may be— that was conceived since centuries ago.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Alatus with his own closed in a pacific and relaxed stance, unbothered by his silence and unperturbed by whether he will respond. Perhaps he thinks there is nothing to say, and he might be actually right. Nevertheless, Dáinsleif does find something to say— a manifestation of his wish to see the vanquisher of demons in an atmosphere like that where he can take up dancing again undisturbed where he, too, may have a beautiful memory of the one place witness of this art.

◜Let me know when you do.◞ There is no ifs, but confidence that one day he will find at peace with himself sufficiently to give himself as much privilege as that. Astral gaze looks skywards, to the lonely moon shining upon them from where they rest in the forest. ◜I know of a place where you may enjoy doing it again.◞ Instead of ifs, what he offers is a solemn promise to lead him to the sea of flowers at the end, so in the likeness of the inteyvats' tender petals his heart may soften anew.

[twilightichor]

✧ @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?

[twilightichor]

Destiny is a fickle thing, always writing and rewriting that which has already been established betwixt the stars above, faux all of them as the Usurper King saw fit to shelter or isolate this world. So it confirmed for Dáinsleif when his paths crossed anew with the descendant of the long-lasting Alberich clan, predating even the shrouded sun dynasty one of its men came to reign over as an appointed regent. And just as their first proper meeting after a couple of decades of history shared, brief and fleeting like a child's minute wonder, guards were held up high in a quiescent war between two individuals tied by a long destroyed kingdom.

If one were to be sufficiently sharp and attentive, even in such scenario they would be able to pick up on details that for others who lack context may go overlooked. For Kaeya Alberich's luck or misfortune, the Twilight Sword of old happens to be one such individual.

Truce finds its way settling between star-shaped eye bearers as the dust of the endless ocean of sand in the silent night. No more subtle quirks or prods in sight in an assault to disarm the others from the secrets they hold that could prove beneficial to the other's intel, just the gentle rustling of the foliage above that covers them in an oasis as rare to find in a desert as an inteyvat away from its homeland. In their brief time shared together where no other option was left for neither of them, Dáinsleif has noticed specks of light that make visible a burden that should not be of the other's. And so he wastes no opportunity to make it known, but to provide solace he's yet unbeknownst of its magnitude.

◜If you've already let go of your ties to the past... then keep it that way.◞ His sharp voice cuts through the quiescence like a razor in the dead of the night from where he idles by, at a prudent distance from the other to give him space— reproducing his last words before Kaeya parted from the tavern that hosted their fateful encounter. He meant every word he said, yet it seems like they must've fell on deaf ears for the burdened. Thus he takes it upon himself to continue. ◜I ignore what your upbringing must've been before you were taken under the wing of the Ragnvindr, but I shall tell you this: you needn't burden yourself for a kingdom that is no more.◞

This time, too, he means it. Wholeheartedly.

@glacialswordsman ✦

[twilightichor]

@apocryphis asked: [ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ] : receiver hears sender calling their name while asleep. (from nahida, and could be either nahida hearing dain call for her, or dain hearing her call for him, whichever is most ic for dain!)

Bearers of innocence are known for being unable to die, might as they try. The reason for this incapacity is none other than the lack of complex feelings established in their psyche that makes them perceive the world around them in whites or black, the in between, a sea of colors. Such statement would hold the truest for children, but so does for Aranara regardless of the wisdom they may come to acquire over countless of moons since their birth as a seed.

And it is through reacquainting himself with them as what few reminisce as Golden Nara and others know by tales told meant to be preserved, and fighting alongside them once again in order to keep Marana at bay that Bough Keeper knows the time has come. Stalling Marana, uprooting it and vanquishing it will be only a temporary solution to the ailment that threatens to shower Sumeru anew as Eleazar did the first time lest something is done to prevent it while they have time. If that comes to past, a domino effect is bound to occur, the biggest being the fall of the Sovereign of Dendro whom slumbers under dunes of sand that used to be verdant fields. Her demise naught short of a nuclear bomb of dendro to overflow over the rest of Teyvat and break the natural balance betwixt elements.

But they still have time, and one of them must be the bravest.

◜Bu'er.◞ Long ago has it been since the last time they had a direct conversation in this manner, where both of them allow their psyche to connect once again and see each other in an otherwise pitch black realm of the mind— all byproduct of their unique connection to an even greater network source in this world that brings them together... and Dáinsleif's own with her predecessor. Or rather, her past self in the previous samsara. No matter how much time may come to pass, Dáinsleif knows she listens. She always does— partly due to the misfortune that very few if any would talk to her directly.

◜Reluctant as I am to be bearer of bad news, the time has come. And time waits for no one.◞ For even for long-living beings as them, the changes of the world will not cease from happening. Albescent lashes flutter close to meditate a few moments his next words. Be that as it may, that doesn't change the fact that the God of Dendro has been reduced to nothing in the minds of many whom either believe in Rhukkadevata still or something else. An orchestrated plan that will lead to nothing but catastrophe if it continues its destined route with nobody to interfere. The one who must interfere first is her and her alone. ◜...I am deeply aware that it is easier said than done, but a chain of undesirable events are bound to occur if it isn't stopped. Should that come to pass, not even you would be able to do anything against it.◞

Namely the fall of the Devourer of Gods if she isn't given the freedom she necessitates to act before it is too late.

◜It may be terrifying... and you may be exposed to even cruder truths than what you know. But there are those whom only need to be tipped in the right direction to go with the flow leading to your eventual release, those that will believe in you at the smallest proof of your existence and your reassurance that you never abandoned them.◞ Unlike lies spread about her, about her incompetence and the need to let inept sages do an even worse job than she herself would if she were allowed to grow naturally among people. If there is one caged god that can do miracles in a state of enclosure, it is her. Even more paradoxical yet, one last breath of inspiration from a non-believer: ◜I have faith in you.◞

Because... if there is anyone who understands the importance of stepping in and healing Irminsul, it is you. If there is anyone who never gave up on her people even if many of them already did, it is you. If there is anyone who can pick up a failed attempt at purifying Irminsul entirely where She left it...

It is you.

[twilightichor]

✦ @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.◞

[twilightichor]

@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.

[twilightichor]

@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.

[twilightichor]

@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.

[twilightichor]

✦ @apocryphis asked: ‘ i like the disaster of the night sky, stars spilling this way and that as if they were upturned from a glass. ’ (from nahida)

In the likeness of her predecessor, Nahida sees beauty in things that he cannot comprehend. Something as natural as dreams are to humans suffice to capture the attention to a divine connected to an even greater source of memories and experiences of every living soul, for her to find potential in them and turn them into a soothing balm to this aching world and its Axis Mundi, alas, never to herself beyond the tragic gladness she must've felt at the knowledge that one day in the distant future she, too, would be saved from her pain.

Dáinsleif looks at the noctilucent sky in an effort to understand the logic behind her positive sentiments. Coming from a kingdom that knew of nothing that wasn't a veil of night accompanied by ominous astronomic bodies such as the crimson moon or the black sun, he is accustomed to this environment. In fact, he favors it over the day, that took him long enough to get used to at the detriment of his poor eyes bathed in a light he was certain that he didn't belong.

This representation of the celestial dome, however, hits different in an unfortunate but soothing way. If Khaenri'ahns of old cursed their slow velocity to realize that what is displayed is faux, under this sky they would sooner believe they hallucinated— so well done was the job of the Usurper whom moved heaven and earth in order to fashion the world to his liking and to repress the true nature of this world.

As for the reason why he partly believes that it's soothing the way it is...

◜Not everyone needs to know.◞ Softness in celestial azures betray stone cold features. He whose knowledge isn't subpar to that of a saint or a prophet, ironically thinks that there is wisdom that shouldn't be known. Why? Because he's been a direct witness of what knowing too much can do to a man. Some may accept it, others may fall into madness out of rage to confront it and seek a change.

◜But not everything is so bad, after all.◞ His gaze pivots towards the young goddess, the memory of her predecessor overlapping her figure in a brief imagining of what her visage must be like weren't they in a crucial moment that could plummet the world into despair or be blessed with salvation, suffering as she was. ◜So long as people don't lose the ability to dream, even if something factually impossible as reaching upturned stars, there is still hope.◞ Unlike those that couldn't in that faraway dreamless land.

Sapphire irises return to the sky and soften when the realization hits that he understands the logic behind finding beauty in things he initially couldn't, they soften. ◜The night sky could be a living hell, but there will always be a light that will guide you.◞

[twilightichor]

@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.◞

[twilightichor]

@avaere asked: " if ," and there's a playful tint to the warden's voice as he calls out to the other , he who is now simply associated with appearing and disappearing as he pleases , a seemingly all-knowing creature whose nose might be a little too deep for his potential good , " you plan on becoming a regular to these parts , surface or underground , give me a heads up ? maybe you will earn a personal cup at my table. "

Amusement at its finest makes itself manifest for every rare time Dáinsleif opts to return to the Fortress of Meropide and its warden appears to have accepted the fate without questioning further —or rather, finding new ways to snake his way into learning more about him, not dissimilar to that time when he unceremoniously appeared to the dormitory he assigned him to spend a night and took a... bizarre interest in the marks that permeate his body—. Once he has checked that the gates to the Primordial Sea located in the fortress' depths are unperturbed the first time he did, there is no real reason for him to come back.

Nonetheless, there is something that beckoned him to return whenever his presence was required in Fontaine, like some old echoes asking him to come back home. Not like he would ever consider the fortress in itself anything of the kind, but it is a company he didn't anticipate to seek again that acts as the motive for him to return. So are the woes of spending centuries in unwanted solitude, all in pursuit to protect others from him— and because not everyone would understand that not even he himself is a priority in his life at the present time.

When several years of testing and learning about himself culminate in a broader knowledge of his current nature, however, it is futile to act as if his presence alone would be venom to others.

Imagine the surprise written in crystalline blues and quirking brows when the prospect of letting His Grace know of his return is vocalized, even though until then their meetings were completely without notice nor anticipation that he would come back. For how bizarre his proposal sounds in Dáinsleif's ears —what is happening with the strange word choice, coming from someone as eloquent as Wriothesley, in combination to the even stranger emphasis on things that don't matter like the table?—, there is warmth that blossoms within his heart and creeps its way to the rest of his body. Joy.

◜Since when you find yourself in the necessity to ask me to give you notice of my presence in Fontaine?◞ Twilight Sword dares to jest back, for that's what this is about, right? Despite his confusion on the matter and hardship to come to terms with the fact that someone desires to see him back when and if such opportunity arises, there is a hint of a smile that reaches icy sapphires in a moment when his lips have completely forgotten how to draw one. ◜I suppose that there is no helping a next time now, is there?◞

Serene and content, Dáinsleif turns on his heels to abandon the warden's office— not permanently, but only temporarily until a next time that will come at an undetermined moment. ◜Until next time, then. I will make sure to not come empty-handed when it happens.◞ Namely by making a small visit to Chenyu Vale to bring him some new tea to add to his collection.

[twilightichor]

Tag dump repost #2

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος α: αναμνήσεις από μια χαμένη ζωή┊kingdom of celestia.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος β: descensus in regnum tenebram┊kingdom of khaenri’ah.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος γ: αγκασμένος στην αθανασία ┊aftermath of disaster.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος δ: ψάχνοντας τη χαμένη μοίρα┊to the journey’s end.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος ε: ανακαλύπτοντας την αλήθεια┊100 years of penance.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος ζ: ενδιάμεση της ανθοφορίας┊way of the prophet.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος η: μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊twilight’s prologue.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ τόμος θ: λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν┊advent of ragnarök.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ chasing luminous river of stars ┊noctilucent crossroads.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ rupture of the everlasting darkness ┊astral reverberations α.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ rupture of the everlasting darkness ┊astral reverberations β.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ where edges of eternity collapse ┊aetherial crisis.┊