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

[reginrokkr]

✧ @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]

✧ @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.

[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]

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 ✦

[reginrokkr]

@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.

[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]

@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]

@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: ‘ 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.◞

[reginrokkr]

❝The Abyss Order.❞ Even more specific Dáinsleif can be, but he decides against revealing more information about that matter. For there is no need to unearth horrors of the past as if they were unfinished, no need to drop the name of the very founder that now lays paradoxically expired and interred in Sumerian lands since at least ten years ago— potentially for centuries if Lumine's ownership of the cult's leadership is telling enough. ❝It has been long enough to be concerned that something like this would be snuffed out under everyone's noses in Liyue, regardless.❞

Including his own, for that matter. A prospect that makes him knit his brows in a fleeting frown that fades as soon as it appeared.

❝My intention is to destroy the statue irregardless of your inclination or lack of thereof towards the god it represents.❞ Icy sapphires peer into light ambers, stellar pupils sharpen to denote seriousness. ❝If you wish to have nothing to do with it, you are still in time to leave as you please. I will not hold it against you.❞ Nor he anticipated the Yaksha's involvement to begin with, which accentuates the lack of care in what he does. However, there is a matter that must be considered. A variability that may happen depending on how devout or not he is, on how attached he could be to Barbatos.

❝Whatever you choose to do, stand not in my way.❞ A warning is given, lacking all humorous or amusing tunes in his deep voice. A forecast of what is to happen if he does. There is a saying that those whom have yet something to lose are not to be toyed with, for they will give everything they have so that it won't be taken away from them. Nevertheless... those who have naught to lose are even more dangerous. Specially if not even their life is an option to lose out of divine prohibition.

Even in the vestiges of the Chasm, the sense of wrongness permeating the air hadn't been as intense as it is here. Where before it would sweep across every expanse of skin, rising nausea with its ghost-like caress, it now pierces without pretense. Dáinsleif had been right to warn him, but more than his own unease, Xiao considers his having missed this place's existence as the most pressing concern. He patrols Liyue both day and night, always diligent to protect the land no matter the personal cost he must bear as a result. To have missed this entirely...Someone must have taken great care to conceal the cave and its energy from not only him but from all adepti and especially his lord.

‘Rex Lapis will need to hear about this,’ Xiao thinks gravely. ‘Retired or not.’ It will be a difficult but necessary conversation to have, even if Dáinsleif has a way of resolving the disturbance as he claims.

Xiao takes in the internal structures with a creased brow, darting through openings between bubbles with no difficulty. It is only when they push further that he briefly bemoans the loss of his wings, but even without them, it is an easy thing to wedge his polearm into a wall to halt his rapid descent. Perching atop his blade, he concerns himself only with the sight in front of him, barely listening to (though still comprehending) what Dáinsleif is saying. The demonic voices within Xiao rise in a crescendo as he gazes upon the reversed statue, their wails both elated and pained; disturbed, almost as much as he.

Gloved hands curl around his weapon in a vice grip, trembling from the strain. “Who is responsible?” he asks, his voice equal parts shaking and forceful. Control, in the end, isn’t an issue, and certainly not in the way he expected. Xiao’s anger humbles even the remnants of divine energy coursing through him like poison with its ferocity.

[reginrokkr]

◜One would believe that prophecies hold nary a value if they cannot be verified, and I would agree with them. For what meaning do they have when naught is demonstrated to the naked eye to solidify the believe that such ominous view of the future can exist otherwise?◞ Earnest and honest is the Twilight Sword answer as it is an exercise of contemplation, pensive stance in pinching his chin further displaying that his mind drifts to the topic at hand, teller that his answer is not fully-fledged yet despite the fact that he has only answered half of Thoma's question.

Dáinsleif is no man to believe in foolish and empty words when there is no way to demonstrate that such prophecy is true, not when he counts with a vast network of information at his disposal as part of a gift of union with the Axis Mundi— or perhaps merely a tool to assist him in a passive manner in his pursuit to find balance in this world made suitable for human life, never disregarding once that just like humans bloomed so did gods pertaining to an old world order that may be no more. And that mighty creatures that predate the existence of time measure in this world have as much right to dwell this star, too.

◜Abundance of time and experience have taught me to verify serious statements like prophecies when they are revealed. Until then, my faith in them is none.◞ Perhaps if he didn't have the means to do so on his own he would have a different position in this matter, a more open mind to trust the word depending of its source. Nevertheless, the truth is... ◜As it happens with events destined to occur, prophecies are seeds waiting for the right moment to germinate and grow into what's written in the stars. Remember: stars are connected to fates, so they are to the future.◞

As frozen stars embedded into celestial sapphires are, Dáinsleif's soul can look into the past— whereas his eyes can gaze into the future as his material body remains in the present.

Response made, contemplative moments come to a halt and his gaze lingers upon tranquil waters dancing at lunar's might. Waters that once upon a time used to be blanketed with a veil of stars that were not mere reflection of the celestial dome above. The seraph's attention returns to the flame warrior in time to catch his musings. Prophecies are connected to calamities. To that, there is nothing Dáinsleif can refute, for there is an undeniable truth woven in those words. His pessimistic mind can agree as much, not without reason, regardless. Prophecies serve as a warning of undesirable outcomes in the future, but also of hope: either at the notion that an individual whose power can solve the matter may come or as a preparation in case such individual doesn't exist. So those who do exist may do everything in their hands to prevent a tragic outcome.

Color him curious the moment which grimness is brought at the premise that any effort other individuals may put can be easily overlooked. As someone who no longer cares about pride —it has passed alongside the kingdom hidden in darkness' depths, and even then time and insight of the past have become tellers of a cruel truth: it was all a farce—, Bough Keeper fails to understand what is grim about it nor why Thoma's heart dampens at that thought. However, truth be said he wouldn't entirely say that the merit belongs to the final nail in the coffin alone.

◜Regardless of ancestry, human power is as valuable as divine might.◞ Hard to believe as it may be due to the sheer power imbalance betwixt mankind and god, it's one of Teyvat's many secrets. Stellar eyes narrow in an exercise to reminisce what this world was like in the cataclysmic era, back when all seas were dyed black and sanguine rain precipitated from enraged heavens.

◜Knights of Favonius and anyone capable to fight protected Mondstadt how long they could until Barbatos made his intervention and called forth Dvalin. Millelith kept the star-beasts at bay in a large radius surrounding the Chasm so they wouldn't march towards Liyue Harbor until the rocks felt earth's lament no more because of a long gone Yaksha and the men who accompanied him. I could continue to tell you similar tales, but I wager you know where all of them lead. If anything, I would say it is a matter of encountering the right individuals who can put an end to what others could not. That doesn't make them the only ones deserving of recognition, everyone is for their deeds.◞

@scarletooyoroi from here.

[reginrokkr]

» @avaere asked: ❝ you don’t have to tell me how you got it. i just wanted to see. ❞ from wriothesley !

It is not an often occurrence that Dáinsleif chooses to stay in someone else's place, nor that sufficient trust to use their accommodations is established betwixt him and another to make it happen. For how conflictive their first encounter was —more his own fault than it was His Grace's, a mishap of his for not considering that he could descend to the forbidden zone that custodies one of the gates to the Primordial Sea anytime—, it came as a pleasant surprise that in all his kindness, the fortress' warden would invite him to stay if he lacks any other lodging to stay for the night and an offer Twilight could not refuse —while he counts with the capacity to move from one place to another at will, so long as Ley Lines in the surrounding area permeate, it is an ability he only uses when he has no other methods to reach to the chosen place and he did not have any desire to be subjected to the Iudex's scrutiny too—.

Twilight Sword is cognizant of the fact that there is more to this than a friendly exchange that culminates with using the other's accommodations to rest— there always is, just as when he did not intend to invite him to drink tea without a price, being answers to questions that even in such circumstance Dáinsleif would answer on his own terms. Whatever that would be, nevertheless, he didn't mind so long as hostilities are put to one side and sufficient trust that they have no reasons to stand against one another is present. And, of course, that no more prying occurs unless it is warranted one way or another.

What the abandoned seraph didn't anticipate is that it would be this early in the morning, nor in the chambers destined for his usufruct for that night— albeit it is not any less surprising granted that the Duke has access to any instalments. Including this one. As it is customary, Dáinsleif never sleeps with his mask on as it would pose more problems than they are worth caring for: while night-touched skin is nigh anaesthetized to touch, pressure or environmental climate stimuli, the Ley Lines are the opposite— bearing a heightened sensitivity if compared to the rest of his normal skin. The result of sleeping with the mask on would only cause an undesirable strain he's not immune from feeling pain of, nor he desires to add more that the corruption and curse of the divine don't weigh on him as is.

It could be worse than this.

For all he knows, he could've caught him in a naked state and see far more than just night kissing the right side of his face and Ley Lines combined and that would suffice to raise more questions about his person in a restless mind eager to learn more as His Grace's is. Thus it is safe to say that to Dáinsleif's fortune and the Duke's misfortune own, that did not happen.

Involuntary tension builds and roots Twilight Sword in place as the man in question approaches to see, a reassurance that little does to quench unintentional spasms byproduct of the closeness and so little as the other's icy glare or breathing, fight them as he may with everything he has. ◜These markings are far from desirable to bear on your body, Your Grace.◞ So when silence fails to steel his nerves, a genuine warning partly to distract his mind does wonders to recompose himself under a gaze that perhaps didn't even notice the inner turmoil this simple gesture causes, he ignores. ◜Just as they are tellers of misfortune, should you encounter much worse than me.◞ Namely monsters of the Abyss.

◜Would you look at that. Your fortuitous visit answered one of your questions better than my words could describe.◞

[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]

@avaere asked: ‘  the trick is to keep going.  ’ from wriothesley !

Not everyone is capable of facing extreme vicissitudes nor is everyone prepared for long periods of darkness in their lives, many of which don't even make it out and stay there until they pass away or more tragic outcomes manifest themselves. Alas, those who manage to keep control of their lives don't have it much easier, specially when struggle is ever constant and at every corner. Dáinsleif has ample expertise in this... as it seems Wriothesley himself has.

How does one survive these moments of life when everything seems to be gloom in a never ending tunnel with no light in sight, then? Twilight Sword has asked this to himself countless of times until it no longer mattered once an objective was etched in his mind and soul. So long as he could carry it out, the rest couldn't be of any less importance.

Truth be said, he doesn't know how they ended up talking about life philosophies, sufficiently vague to not disclose too many details that make it seem like it's about themselves— but it is a nice change, nevertheless. For Dáinsleif considers himself an eternal learner no matter how much he already knows, and how much he has forgotten that many won't ever learn in their limited lives, too.

◜Indeed.◞ A sip to the tea served to him is given before the cup rests atop its plate. ◜Should you find yourself in a moment when you have no one else to confide but yourself, there is no other choice but to continue.◞ With or without the blessing of the gods, or when the world threatens to be against you altogether... that is the only option, he had learned. ◜So long as you have determination, there is still a spark of hope even in the darkest moments.◞

[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.◞