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

[reginrokkr]

Truth be said, Dáinsleif did not know what to expect upon encountering the sovereign of waters. It isn't foreign to him the knowledge that dragons detested humans and light— not because any were harmful to them except when they warred against one another, but because they reminded them of the Saint Usurper that took from them what was once theirs: this world. For that reason, he wouldn't be surprised if the dragon in the shape of human decided to ignore him or throw words of resent his way.

What he didn't anticipate is not only that he would acknowledge his presence, but whisper through hushed words sentiments of pity, perhaps even sorrow or sympathy for the beast that has become the primary topic of their conversation— almost as if there is shame in even feeling that way or even daring to voice it out.

Dark clouds augur rain and the fallen seraph nearly pushes away the motive he has come here to urge him to speak about this elsewhere, lest the contaminated rain —result of the yet to fade defilement's pollution in this world— becomes a more urgent matter to concern themselves about. One drop falls, followed by another, prompting starry gaze to rise and notice that the water is crystal clear. Sapphire glaciers drop to his rising hand thereafter to check a water drop resting atop the palm of his hand and realize that, indeed, it lacks the contamination he would expect. Like in Mondstadt with bloody rain and in Sumeru with pitch black.

◜...◞ Dáinsleif falls into quiescent contemplation as he rises his gaze to look at the dragon before him anew, eyes narrowing for a fraction in wonder. Is it possible that he...? ◜It is not the first time I witness it with these eyes of mine. So yes, I do.◞ His head nods in further confirmation of wisdom to be transmitted and shared as a means to present as a fact emotions he finds hard to connect with— but not to understand. Thus he turns his head to the distant east, where Mondstadt's location should be. ◜Mondstadt was victim of such creature not long ago. A dragon who found beauty in the land of wind and believed it found a friend and was playing with it, when in reality destruction and defilement was created with the flap of its wings.◞

Seraphic attention returns to meet the back of the sovereign in name, now no different than every other man like himself. ◜Neither Durin or Elynas are at fault, but of an unkind mother that entrapped their soul in a body created with dark arts that makes them be that way.◞ Nevertheless, neither of this matters. They could dwell in the unfairness of innocent souls turned into monsters for eternity, yet none of it would help a more urgent state of affairs that can unleash a butterfly effect on more than a country or living being, should this situation stay unchecked— including him. Thus ultimately Dáinsleif comes a step closer to the man, but not more than that: he knows how to exercise precaution both for himself and the other, he hasn't forgotten about his own condition as half a monster.

◜The crisis Fontaine is facing must be resolved, Hydro Dragon.◞

Continued from ✦ || @maquiscursed

[reginrokkr]

Even with his short time in existence thus far, it wasn't too difficult to grasp the difference in the length of his stride compared to that of Dainsleif's - little Dan Heng doing his best to keep up with the pace of the other as they made way across changing landscapes. Dain had always kept a firm but considerate demeanor and attitude towards him, perhaps more so considerate when the other seemed to relent to his company after much persuasion. Such was evident in how bough keeper's pace was definitively slower than when Dan Heng relied on being carried and how Dain's stride would slow down even more when the young boy showed signs of fatigue.

Case in point now, contemplation on Dan Heng's side slowed his own pace and Dain's pace had slowed in turn shortly after. An idea jumped into Dan Heng's mind immediately and his body sprung into action just as fast - strides shuffling him forward until he came to a quick (and slightly clumsy) stop in front of the other. Patting himself off to make himself look presentable, he cleared his throat and directed big eyes upward at the other.

"Can I - May I please have up?" Here come some upstretched arms too, all the more to make things easier for Dain.

Long has it been since Dáinsleif came to terms with the notion that solitude will become his best companion throughout the duration of a self-imposed duty to see the Abyss Order's plans end to frustration and the dying Star rejuvenate anew when the dark depths of this world are ultimately silenced. An entire century of loneliness feels like nothing in the great scheme of things, of what is to come in the prophesied future lest something is done for many centuries more to be washed over in the river of time. Journeying with someone who possesses a semblance of understanding of one's situation is nice, but facing the sorrow of parting and the distancing rift of two opposing sides is nothing short of heartbreaking.

That was until he has encountered a new miracle, a small light glowing in the dark depths of this world and past the borders of the stellar beasts. An egg born in harsh conditions like Inteyvats bloom where by logic neither flora nor fauna have any place to thrive where natural life is incompatible with the edge of the world. Acute sentience to a fading power in this world is what brought together a fallen seraph and a newborn dragon, arguably different than what Bough Keeper observed in sapphire streams of information leading up to primitive ages of Teyvat. And by an imperious necessity to prevent this new life from being devoured by everlasting darkness it was decided that he fosters the little being in order to study what makes the boy so vastly different yet actively pursued by obscure forces including the Abyss Order. Until a solution is found and a safe place secured for the young dragon to thrive and mature.

Journeying with someone implies accommodating them to their needs. Such is the reality Dáinsleif has to face and give in when new necessities arise in the child. Sometimes more often than he would've liked, but he is mindful of his special condition that causes him to bypass natural needs such as feeding, and of Dan Heng's as a child yet to grow. So long as they aren't in immediate danger, the Twilight Sword of old doesn't matter catering to his needs as much. It serves as a constant reminder that he, too, should rest every now and then and take things easily.

Nevertheless, that doesn't mean that he isn't aware of when the young dragon decides to test him.

Initially Dáinsleif thought it's tiredness what makes Dan Heng's stride gain a slower pace, unlike the usual that leads him to exert an effort he needn't do to keep up with his stride. When this happens, he knows that ere long they should take cover somewhere for the remainder of the day or simply recover their strength. It is crystal clear that this isn't such case when the child changes from a slower to faster pace to stop before him, teller that he's, in fact, far from tired. Dáinsleif decides to stop and humor him by crossing strong arms over his chest and rise a brow out of curiosity, finding a mute amusement in the way the small dragon makes himself presentable before making a request that admittedly, caught him off guard.

Celestial being or not, he's still a child.

Albescent lashes flutter close in a placid smile that lost its ability to reach his lips as he shakes his head slightly to reaffirm this fact about Dan Heng. At least he learned to be polite on his own. Dáinsleif doesn't question why he wants to picked up when there are no hints of adverse weather or exhaustion, justifying it within his mind as a simple probably he just wants so, typical child behaviour. Thus he draws closer to him and ultimately picks him up without opposing resistance to such an innocent request.

◜Next time you desire something, you may ask directly without need to test any waters.◞ There is no scorn or disapproval in his voice. Rather a gentle reassurance to be more direct and an underlying warning that he sees through his intentions. Of course, he's aware that if Dan Heng wants to treat this as a learning experience to test his boundaries he will continue doing so. Fortunately for him, not something Dáinsleif particularly minds, let the child learn on his terms so long as they aren't harming to himself or to others no matter if in a short or long term.

@jueying ✦

[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.┊

[reginrokkr]

But what if in a few decades down the river of time, something causes the remnants of defilement yet to dissolve completely in the fountain of all waters flare again? As if reacting to his sliver of doubt, images that don't match with the scenery before him play within sapphire irises. People who seek to manifest Elynas back to life again, a fight within a dimension he cannot describe as another thing but the beast's interior— far from one would expect if they were to imagine directly a monster's bowels. Not to his surprise, truth be said, for Rhinedottir's creations proved to be magnificent in their own right and bizarre all the same.

Dáinsleif snaps out of his brief reverie in time to offer gratitude in ways that a noble man would as a result of a successful cooperation. Tokens of gratitude that to the other's misfortune, would go to waste if projected to his person. These exact thoughts manifest through a gentle shake of his head first, not without feeling gratitude for his sentiment, regardless. ◜I am undeserving of your kindness.◞ Since when did the Dragon show compassion to him, when it all started as reasonable skepticism and lingering doubts that what he said to initiate their cooperation would play out that way? ◜But if it helps, know that the trust you deposited on me that I do not seek to be hostile to your very existence and that I would commit to my part of the cooperation is more than enough.◞

Sovereign's next words leave Twilight Sword at a loss that reflects in quivering star-shaped pupils. Is that the impression he's gotten of him? That he's some savior confronting the threats that jeopardize this world's safety? For a moment, Dáinsleif finds the necessity to pause and reflect, to rouse from his shocked stance that hardly betrays his visage if not for his eyes and a slight arch of fair eyebrows, deep in thought as he is. ◜...◞ And so celestial azures drop from the dragon. If he felt he's undeserving for the kindness extended to him for his assistance in Fontaine, now he feels even more for giving off an image that doesn't correspond to himself.

For he's naught but a sinner. A man tasked to protect his people in a kingdom that is no more. A failure forced to live on for gods know how long with the weight of guilt for surviving where he should've passed.

◜As you correctly guessed, it was no coincidence that I appeared at the most opportune of times to help solve Fontaine's crisis. Nevertheless... I am afraid you got the wrong impression of me. What I did until now, with Fontaine as the last place touched by the Cataclysm that erupted from Khaenri'ah first, was righting the wrongs of the people I was supposed to protect so that those who chose to live under the protection of the Seven don't have to face their wrath, to go through in some manner or form the same as my people did unjustly. Now that mission is complete, so I...◞

I don't know what to do.

Light brows knit in a frown as albescent lashes flutter to a close, covered with starlit bangs. Dáinsleif's face turns slightly away from the dragon to conceal himself. ◜I have nothing left to do but go away. For want as I may, I cannot pass away— no matter how undeserving to keep living I am; no homeland to return.◞ A pause. ◜Unlike most people of this world, I am untouched by fate too. So if I have no other choice but live with this curse that plagues me and keep moving forward, perhaps... I should search for my destiny.◞

If those Khaenri'ahns who boasted about being pure-blooded and untainted by fate like him were to listen to him now, they would revel in his misery. In actuality, he can almost hear their laughter ring in his ears— while many more, now cursed to be hilichurls, might be offended for throwing away what they'd call a blessing he has.

Tired of sinking in his own misery and aware that he shouldn't drag someone whose interest is far from watching this petty scene, Dáinsleif straightens himself as his eyes open to take once more in the beautiful and sorrowful scenario before him. In due time, even the core of all waters in this world shall be purified again. He can take as much. ◜Not without giving you one last word of advice, Hydro Dragon: come years to pass, maybe decades, there will be those who will seek to bring Elynas back to life. If you understand the repercussions of such event, I suggest you exercise caution and interfere at the earliest sign of danger you encounter.◞

Ultimately does Bough Keeper pivot with the intention to leave. A few steps in, he finds it in his heart to stop and glance at the dragon one last time. ◜Thank you. For bringing me to safety and protecting me.◞

May we never cross paths again— it will be for the best.

The dragon sovereign blinks slowly upon hearing a voice rise behind him, thoughts gently pulled back from the depths to which they had come to simmer. A very light turn of his head is the only indication he gives of acknowledging his guest, attentive to the grogginess in his voice. He sounds worn, exhausted, but otherwise, on a safe road to recovery from their ordeal. Good. Sacrifices are needed to save what can be saved from the black tide, but the safekeeping of Fontaine is a duty that befalls him. Even though what this duty entails remains... elusive and fuzzy at best -- Neuvillette has no plan of watching another fall because of his own shortcomings.

"We did." He confirms, low and quiet while the Bough Keeper rises from his bedrest. He waits, patiently, listening to the shuffle of his steps as he joins him before the windows, and turns his gaze back to the cloudy skies outside. Indeed, they did make it. Neuvillette can feel the waters of Fontaine and the soil they seep into breathe again, healed from a sickness that had just begun to take root and fortunately been uprooted at the right time before it had been too late. Neuvillette, attentive, watches, present in every one of those sapphire droplets raining from the skies, dissolving into every inch of land, appeasing every wounded living things fallen victim to the darkness. This feat, he would not have been able to accomplish on his own.

This awareness makes him equal parts grateful for his companion's assistance, and resentful to the heavens above. It is only because they amputated him, that he had needed assistance to rescue the world they had stolen, usurped, defiled. What a mockery - what a ridiculous farce.

The Bough Keeper speaks again, and Neuvillette at last fully turns his gaze to him (is this joy and relief, faint and distant as they are, that he beholds upon masked features?). "Yes, indeed. But there is no reason to worry. Though the land may take time to heal, I can guarantee you that the corruption will not be spreading any further. With your assistance, we have ensured this at the very least - and my own power will be sufficient in containing it, before it will dissolve entirely." A promise, from one keeper to another. He has, at the very least, earned that privilege of him.

"The nation of Fontaine owes you a great debt - although I do feel, based on our short cooperation, that you will deny and refuse all and any necessity of such." Few are the people bound by honour that he has met in his short dive into human society - as though the whole concept belonged to the world of yore only. A hint of satisfaction, and curiosity, glimmers in the depths of his eyes; as if content to have been perhaps proven wrong. "Still, if there is anything I may, in turn, offer to assist you or otherwise thank you for your help, know that this door remains open."

The dragon marks a short pause, thoughtful, before he decides to lift the lid of his contained curiosity. Now that the worst of the crisis is over, now that he can feel, in the deepest recesses of his soul, Fontaine healing and recovering, what necessity is there to push it back? "You appeared at the most opportune of times, and it is clear to me that you know more of this world's inner workings than most do." He says, pondering. "You are a man on a mission, that much is clear. Is that how your steps led you to Fontaine and to Elynas? And what is the next step, now that this threat has been dealt with?"

[reginrokkr]

Being minimally cognizant of the importance of holding power over the Axis Mundi would suffice to make anyone mad from delusion, always seeking more and more in a moment where a folie de grandeur becomes prominent in themselves. Thus arrogance is born, a sense of superiority and pursuit of control of others whom in their mind are in a lower position is begotten. To Dáinsleif, nevertheless, it is different. Perhaps it is because he lived in Khaenri'ah long as he had to recognize these patterns immediately, starting from something as simple as the segregation of classes that was present in the kingdom betwixt pure-blooded and those who are not. The reason? Something admittedly grand to those who trust not the gods: to be spotless and untouched by fate in this world that everything is dictated by the Heavenly Principles.

Precisely because he holds this connection to Irminsul he has learned of some of the repercussions behind his actions and kept his capabilities muted to most in order to not rise suspicion or be commanded to commit irresponsibilities for a cause that he disagreed with. For no life is more precious than the other, aristocrat or otherwise. That is why in his final moments in Khaenri'ah, his orders to his entrusted were clear:

Protect everyone at all costs.

Glacial sapphires open with a start from that very memory after an undetermined time slumbering without halt, lungs begging for oxygen causing his chest to rise and fall frantically as if he stopped breathing sufficient time to warrant that reaction. Until at long last Dáinsleif stabilizes and realizes that he's laying atop a soft surface, a bed he recognizes through his hands. Twilight Sword sits on the bed and stares at the back of the Hydro Dragon, standing before a window. Right, the last thing they have done was defeat Elynas in a co-joined cooperation, and after that...

◜Did we... make it?◞ Were he hear himself as an observer of this scenario and not an active actor of it, he would find amusement in his own question. He whom had the trust in his own capabilities and those of the dragon's, even if he didn't know at which point of power he currently stood, was the one asking if they achieved what they joined strengths for. Astral pupils look towards the great window, skies darkened with clouds as they were when they met at the graveyard of ships before pursuing Elynas, albeit this time it's different. Instead of pouring dark rain, he would swear that the raindrops have a sapphire glimpse to them he has never seen before. Beautiful.

A muted wince escapes him as he tries to stand, his body aching from exertion still and depleted strength he used in that moment to enable the Hydro Dragon to purify the waters of this land. Dáinsleif persists nevertheless, walking barefoot towards the window to join the Iudex slow as his movements are.

From this view, he can ascertain his previous assumptions: the sapphire rain falls gently, the darkness offered by the ceiling of clouds none the worse than it was before— actually, he would dare to say that it feels different as he can perceive a few shy rays of moonlight piercing through the gaps betwixt the clouds. This is as much confirmation as he needed: they made it. And thus sapphire irises soften with cautious joy at the thought that the people of Fontaine hadn't suffered the irreparable pain those who became fiends of the Abyss sought from the rest of Teyvat, as per what the late King Irmin wished as well in his last moments of delirium. ◜It will take some time until the defilement is dissolved completely. Not nearly as much as it would've been the case, if this crisis was left unchecked.◞

The sovereign's gaze remains on the Bough Keeper's, unwavering, unmoved (or so he'd like to think - but caution still urges him to exercise restraint, to tread carefully around those any of his kin, had they survived, would doubtlessly dub an enemy) as he collects his strength, evidently in pain even as he rises back to his feet. Neuvillette takes no delight in his pain, and sympathy nestles in his chest, but his compassion is a privilege hard-earned. Foolish would one be to mistake him from the warm, gentle, innocent waters of the surface; the dragon sovereign embodies the cold and merciless currents of the depths just as well.

The Bough Keeper rises back to his feet, and Neuvillette keeps his eyes on him, cautiously curious. It is almost as though the man doesn't see him. Star-branded eyes are set on something that lies beyond him, a mission, a duty -- of course Neuvillette would recognise that determination wherever he'd look at it. The question that lingers on his mind, as he silently follows behind, like a shadow at the man's back, is: how far is he willing to go, to rectify that wrong he claims to chase?

Answer comes to him soon enough, Elynas' carcass abandoned behind them to the sorrow of the earth he inadvertently poisoned and that will soon reclaim him all the same (the earth does not discriminate in what it welcomes in its bosom, kinder than people, dragons and gods), while they steps lead them to the weeping willow Neuvillette has not visited in what now seems like too long a time. How shriveled and sad it looks, slowly agonising while the world remains indifferent to its loss. Guilt seizes his heart (he should have done something to restore it earlier - why had he let his new duties distract him so?); but there is no time to dwell on the sentiment. Draconic eyes meet with the Bough Keeper, and he nods in return. He is ready.

His eyes are still on the Bough Keeper as elemental energy, pure and raw, runs through the Ley Lines and revitalises them; and it is as though the ancient dragon can hear them sing through every micro drop of humidity hanging in the air, on blades of grass, on dried up branches and dampened soil. Lips part in stunned silence, the dragon unable to remember when he last experienced such a surge of elemental power (if ever, in this broken, misshapen new form of his); bewildered by the sight of blue orbs and motes rising from a ground coming back to life. It is almost breathtaking. Who is this man, who is capable of conjuring such power that not even he expects from himself?

And thus Twilight Sword, expended in his exhaustion, falls to the ground; and the ancient dragon takes one urgent, instinctive step towards him, before he realises the aura that cradles him like an exhausted child welcome back to protective arms. Fascinating. Neuvillette's shoulders relax, and a sigh escapes his lips. Very well, then. Primordial eyes return to the willow, now bathed in glory anew, its energy responding to his like a distant echo found again. Slowly, the dragon of water approaches; and as he does, summons to him the power of hydro contained in every droplet of water within reach, within the land. Around him and Dainsleif, darkness grows and shrouds them; not akin to night, but rather, a perfect reminiscence of the still and quiet darkness of the depths of the sea. "Fontaine thanks you for your assistance, Bough Keeper." He murmurs as he walks past him, gloved hand briefly grazing the unconscious man's shoulder as he heads to the tree. And as ancient power is summoned, echoes of dragons of old materialise into the present, ghostly blue fins growing from a vessel that has not yet entirely forgotten where it came from. "Today is not yet the day that man's or gods' folly will bring the ruin they so deserve." With his hand does cane carved from brethren's bones rise; and a single hit into the ground, unleashes forth the full might of which this failed dragon is capable of, hydro resonance carried through the soil, amplified, propagated by the Ley Lines; and beneath all of Fontaine, does purification spread, igniting remnants of poisonous abyss, letting the land breathe like a dying creature miraculously revived.

A miracle he would never have accomplished alone. A miracle he knows he owes the man right behind him, who sacrificed his strength to save a land that is not his.

The skies of Teyvat weep once more; this time the rain carrying the soothing balm of an ancient dragon's power heal its plight. For now, Fontaine will be safe. Neuvillette turns on his heels, heads back to the unconscious man curled up on the damp grass. "And neither Fontaine, nor I, will forget it." He mutters, before letting his cane dissipate into a mist of hydro, and lowering himself to collect his unconscious associate. Healed as the land is, leaving him here would not be wise. He will not rest, until he has carried the Bough Keeper to safety.

[reginrokkr]

Nothing but acceptance is offered in the face of lack of interest to see him to the eye, for what is a sinner in the eye of a sovereign in the Realm of Light but an inconvenience, a mote of dust to blow off? But the rex deigns to turn and Twilight Sword can't help but stop and look at him in silence. Suffice to say he is cognizant of the details about the sovereigns of old —and to his dismay, it was clearly a point of interest for those who were obsessed the most among Khaenri'ahns—, tales about a prophesized Hydro Dragon reincarnated in human flesh. Dáinsleif knows about the majestic nature of the being before him, yet starry eyes paint him otherwise.

So... human.

The sovereign points out aloud his unwillingness to destroy him despite knowing his true nature despite the deceiving exterior of human flesh before him, but Dáinsleif makes no move to respond. That is a matter to be entertained later should it be still appropriate, and his lack of hostility towards him should suffice to denote otherwise. Now that he captured the dragon's interest for the indicated course of action to take in order to solve the crisis is here. ◜First, we ought to eliminate the current source of...◞ But he himself cuts his explanation short, words drift away with violent waves stirred by defilement when a new question is presented to him:

What concern is it of his?

For reasons he cannot describe, here the Bough Keeper stands as if he were tested before something of importance is about to unfold, similar in vein as what he experienced with the holy Irminsul to make sure that he knows what he would subject himself to in immersing himself in an endless Samsara his soul might not return unscathed from— back when he wished to learn the truth hidden under wraps of Khaenri'ah, and then of the world upon coming to terms with the fact that the aureum kingdom had no saving from his part, regardless of what now monsters of the Abyss try to convince him.

Be that as it may, Dáinsleif accepts it. ◜Khaenri'ah, the pride of humankind has fallen at the hands of inclement gods. It mattered ought if its people were innocent or guilty, native to the country or people who had lost their faith in their Archon. In their eyes, all of us were sinners.◞ This, he will never forget nor be able to forgive those gods for. In all their wisdom and omniscience, they should be merciful with those who had no part in the calamity that unfurled thereafter— he should've known better. Roseate lips press tight in a thin line, fighting back the urge to enter in yet another spiral of depreciation: to himself and this unjust world.

◜It would be the height of folly to defend what cannot be defended and say that every Khaenri'ahn was clean of guilt, but among them were people who simply wanted to live peacefully without external concerns outside of what they can do to fix themselves.◞ And these people— these were the ones he was tasked to protect with his life, as the Twilight Sword. ◜They were unfairly branded and massacred, turned into monsters or cursed to wander the wilderness for transgressions they never committed.◞ Nor would agree with, were they aware of what was transpiring in the darkest corners of the society for millennia.

◜And that same unfairness would've played in this Cataclysm, in every other nation included this— directly or indirectly. Those whom have been drowned in their delusions far too long don't differentiate betwixt gods or humans to hold accountable for the disgrace of the golden kingdom. In their eyes, all of them are guilty. I do not wish that to happen if I have any say in it.◞ And he does— he so does. In Mondstadt and Liyue, in Sumeru assisting the Pari and marshalling the last of the Schwanenritter as his final duty as Twilight Sword thereafter before coming to Fontaine —but he needn't know that, it's irrelevant to this matter—. Just so no more innocents have to suffer the same fate— to protect what he couldn't. Albescent lashes flutter close to inhale and exhale deeply to calm his boiling sentiments on the matter, to present himself as a calm figure that seeks no destruction to the being before him. His eyes open again, sapphire irises peering into draconic ones as a hand rises to rest over his chest and his beating heart. ◜The matters of humanity are of my concern, and as far as I am concerned... so are you.◞

Though the sovereign barely deigns to move, he does listen. Whoever this man is, who sprung from the mist and into this cemetery of ships and sailors fallen to the defilement left in Elynas' wake, he seems as much at home here, in the aftermath of catastrophe, as he seems out of place in Fontaine. An outlander whose aura radiates of impossibilities, of powers that should be irreconcilable, and yet, seem to coexist as best their can in that human body of his.

Human, but not entirely human. That makes it the two of them, he supposes.

Water pools at the dragon's feet, defilement diluted in rain of a different kind (a rain of his own, water answering the call of an afflicted heart, skies weeping the loss of those fallen in this disaster intended by neither man not abhorrent creature) - it is not enough to cleanse the poison around them, but at the very least it may, perhaps, be a small, incidental, sorrowful blessing. Neuvillette briefly closes his eyes, ancient (yet so young) mind pushing back against the intrusive memories of those who perished here (their last moments forever carried into the water of Fontaine and returned to him, final repository of their history); and finally, snaps them open again.

Hydro Dragon. So he knows.

The sovereign turns to face his visitor, reptilian gaze drilling into khaenri'ahn one (he has heard the tales of those peculiar pupils -- what omen do they carry with them, he wonders?), gauging him, taking in the surreal appearance of pristine purity and most vile poison merged into a single man. "If you have borne witness to Durin's fate with your own eyes and know of the origins of his tragic predicament, then you know more than I do of such creatures and creations." He says, both hands resting atop his cane - incapable of completely hiding the prudent curiosity that rouses in his heart, brows knitting into a perplexed frown while the rain, indifferent to propriety, continues to pour down upon them; light and darkness at a standstill, contemplating their next move.

"You know what I am, yet seek not to destroy me." Despite the power he senses dwelling in him - the very same dark corrosion left in Elynas' wake, or close to it. The Abyss, he knows, does not strive to solve crises - it causes them. So why does this man...? "Pray tell, then, outlander." His voice rolls between them like a wave unfurling onto the shore during the storm. "How do we solve this crisis... and what concern is it of yours?"

[reginrokkr]

Indescribable is the overwhelming pain that acts up with the birth of a shockwave of colossal magnitude of gold and sapphire, one piercing against the other with Elynas in betwixt. Dáinsleif immediately grasps the fabric of clothes that cover the immediate area of his breast, his chest plate glowing in intensity never seen before as the piercing ache akin to thousands of needles leave him no room for rest. It must be the curse... no, maybe it is the incompatibility of his existence betwixt light and darkness that makes it so painful, as if they are battling for dominance. Such is the irremediable nature of these energies.

Twilight Sword lands on the grass on one knee and pants for air as if something removed the oxygen out of his lungs, one hand curling in a fist on the ground to steady himself and the other's fingers trembling byproduct of the strength used to squeeze the spot over his heart. Half-dazed does he feel some semblance to the creature of the Abyss they have just defeated, its presence beckoning him to look up in time to see a small creature that he hasn't seen before: a soul. His breath hitches in his throat momentarily as he sees the creature tilt its head to one side and hide its hands behind its back, a sad smile in its eyes as its voice reverberates within his mind.

I am sorry. Goodbye.

Cold rain and the echo of another voice beckons Dáinsleif out of his trance in time to see the dragon has landed beside him. Teeth grit at the pain he temporarily ceased to feel, now flaring on his right arm which he holds as he sees his own trembling hand facing him. He curls it into a weak fist and closes his eyes to take a deep breath. It'll pass. It'll pass.

Solemn gaze turns towards the black waters before them that surround the entirety of the nation. Just like that, it can pour past the waterfalls to their descent to the rest of Teyvat— they cannot afford that. ◜Whether it did or not, it matters not.◞ For it certainly did not, too much has happened in so little time and he did not get used to the pain of the curse yet. However, he won't let it stop him from fulfilling his word. Thus Dáinsleif pushes himself to stand on his feet, fighting the exhaustion in his eye to look at the primordial dragon. ◜We are running out of time. Let's go.◞

So long as you can make it with what little assistance I can offer, it'll be alright.

The sight of the weeping willow is heartrending, devoid of life almost completely as it is and bereft of the blue that nearby spirit veins should give to it. Bough Keeper's steps are slow and steady as he stops right before it to look at the tree, the little life left it has emanating a faint golden glow as if telling that it hasn't given up. Nevertheless, there was truth in his previous words when he said that they don't have much time left.

Blue motes of light emerge at his feet as Dáinsleif pushes himself to walk closer to the bark of the tree, a gloved hand smoothes over its wood gentle as if it'd shatter under his touch if he was any harsher. Albescent lashes flutter close to make sure that there is sufficient energy in the willow to sustain the cleansing rite and, to their fortune, there is. His eyes open and his head turns slightly to make eye contact with the Hydro Dragon. A nod is offered to him, exhausted as he is— he can rest when all of this is over.

Let us begin.

Dáinsleif's head turns anew towards the tree and his eyes close in concentration, sapphire flames emanate from his hand to sustain the weeping willow. Its might is absorbed into itself, golden glow fades and what little light was around them disappears with it momentarily until all spirit veins at their feet glow and form a net the more Ley Lines are connected: from below the ground to the water veins within the surrounding lake. Several blue motes emerge from the earth and float skywards, the spirit veins that congregate in the glow within it and make it shine.

It is your turn now, Hydro Dragon.

So was the last thought that permeates the lunarescent seraph's mind before his consciousness departs, his body falling gently onto his knees as if cradled by the very aura he just imbued the suffering willow with.

This world needs not more individuals like him. It has made it unabashedly clear, throughout centuries of extermination, erasure, of open and gleeful hostility that would shed blood and extinguish an entire race before masking the bloodbath in innocent fairytales of heroism and children stories. The world does not need, and certainly does not want, more individuals like him. The hydro dragon watches on from his perch as Bough Keeper launches himself into battle, an ancient anger rising like the tide and rumbling right below the waves. By no fault of the Khaenri'ahn warrior, truly. But how can he look down at the situation they face, heed those words, and not want to laugh dryly at the terrible, cruel irony of their situation?

This world does not need or want more individuals like him. But for now, it is all this world has.

Elemental seal strengthens its hold on the beast as it seeks escape, lashing out on the Khaenri'ahn; whose every movement Neuvillette's sharp gaze follows attentively. Even at the distance he finds himself at, the shockwaves of power unleashed between both foes are overwhelming - but more surprising still, is the clash of nature between the two. Whatever unfolds below, should be something belonging to the realm of impossibility (what power does this man yield exactly? the Abyss' corruption reeks from all over him, yet the Ley Lines respond to his command, and those sapphire flaming swords radiate something light and pure). Whatever this man is, should not be possible either, not in the realm they tread, not in the world the Usurpers have shaped.

Just what is he, exactly?

Draconic gaze shoots up, beholds the formation of one final sword - jaw slightly agape, only for attention to snap back in place as the Bough Keeper calls upon him to deliver the final blow. Resolve settles in primordial irises; and Neuvillette raises his cane, and hits the ground below once. Hydro responds to his command, echoes to his call, and the seal beneath Elynas shifts and morphs into golden light trickling upwards, forming a radiant golden sword of pure pneuma energy, twin to the one created by the Bough Keeper. "I am sorry, Elynas." He murmurs to himself as cane disintegrates in his hand and steps lead him to the edge of the precipice, closely followed by the sapphire blades shielding him. "This realm was not shaped for the likes of you either. I hope you can forgive us for this cruelty."

With a heavy heart, does the sovereign of water leap into the air, a powerful force shifting wind currents and rain-charged clouds above. There is none, today, to bear witness to the ancient dragon's manifestation; none, except the Bough Keeper and a monster to be slain, to commit to memory the formidable elemental torrent concentrated in his palm, the ancient glow of dragon form taking shape as legacy is called upon, or the diluvian waterfall conjured at his behest barrelling downwards to lend its strength and force to both golden swords.

Elynas' final cry as both blades stab through both body and soul reverberates across all of Fontaine - for all to hear, for all water to remember for centuries to come.

... Elynas moves no more. In the aftermath of battle, its carcass lies still and gigantic, an island in and of itself, a monstrous mountain oozing abyssal filth into the seas around. A shiver runs up the Iudex's spine, as he slowly lowers himself back to ground level. Above his and Dainsleif's heads, rain begins to weep from the skies. A sigh passes the threshold of his lips; and at last he touches ground, right at his new, unexpected, and now tested companion's side. "There would once have been a time when I could have turned this rain into a purifying force, and rid the seas of this poison around us." He admits, like a shameful, bitter confession to another sinner. "Alas, it is as I feared. My strength alone will not suffice. We must act quickly." Draconic gaze seeks out sapphire one, gauging, inspecting. " ... how are you faring? Did the battle spare enough of your own strength for the challenge ahead?"

[reginrokkr]

With great power comes greater consequences, so it's true when there is lack of thereof despite being a heritage that corresponds to the dragon sovereign by birthright, only to be claimed away by inclement gods and step onto original monarchs of this world to humiliation. Following that line of explanation, Hydro Dragon should not run the risk of corruption, even less of most merciful death than twisting his being into anything than what he chooses to be— this suffices to give lunarescent seraph a sour taste in his mouth.

But as one of the natural enemies of everything that stems from the Usurper, the sovereign could've laughed in everyone's faces at the discord caused by the Saint's brethren, watch how gods lose their lives in an attempt to subdue the darkness of this world and claim his rightful authority back— and yet, here he is willing to give his life on the front if that means protecting the world from all encroaching poison of the Abyss. And a silent request Dáinsleif catches at once: that should he fall to abyssal fangs, that he puts him down.

Pregnant silence remains evident betwixt them until they reach to precipice's end where they have cornered Elynas, Twilight Sword's mind ruminating in the sovereign's explanation and what it would imply for him to partake in the plan proposed to solve this crisis. At a steep cost, as Dáinsleif has anticipated when speaking on his own behalf, but so is on the other's. His trust on him is akin to a gamble, hoping that he will do his part of the bargain as he will just as the scenario presents before them and a barrier that impedes Elynas' movements for an easier access. Even so, time is a luxury at this moment.

Resolute does Dáinsleif step forward and extends his arm towards the rex, sapphire flames at his command to engulf him with protective, soothing and purifying might of Irminsul's blessing bestowed to him as its defender. ◜You won't pass today.◞ Crystalline blues look over his shoulder into draconic ones. ◜Nor you will become something else that isn't a fully-fledged dragon.◞ His arm retreats, but cleansing flames will continue to protect the other's integrity as spectral swords of identical color palette as previous fire materialize around him and idle in stance until commanded otherwise.

◜This world needs more individuals like you.◞

Murmur meant to be naught but a silent musing to himself preludes the jump on the precipice to meet Elynas face to face, its jaw open wide to roar as if intimidating to step away— but it is for naught. Spectral swords increase in speed around him before they launch towards the beast to attack. Æternum Crepusculum is beckoned and materializes in his hand, a cursed sword that cannot be sheathed anew unless it has claimed a life.

Just as the Hydro sovereign cannot afford to spend all his strength in this battle, neither can Bough Keeper. This fight is only the first phase of their plan, with arguably a much tedious effort to follow with the purification of now poisonous waters. Still, that isn't to say that he won't give everything that is necessary to ensure this beast's fall, dangerous as it is to him to inhale its abyssal aura alone, let alone if he's to sustain injuries as he does. For great as the seal cast upon Elynas is, it continues to be capable of summoning the Abyss' wrath or move its limbs, limited as it is.

Unfortunately to the beast of beyond, Dáinsleif's own aura clashes greatly with the other's and so his flurry of sapphire attacks prove themselves highly damaging judging by Elynas' cries and more erratic movements as it bleeds abyssal mud and, were one to pay attention, faint glimmer of stardust contradicting with an otherwise dark nature hard to decipher if genuinely its own or imposed.

One last slash slays the beast of the Abyss and so it loses strength to attempt to climb within the restrictions of draconic seal and falls. Celestial azure irises shoot upwards to his location and a nod is given for him to let go and assist him in the final blow to send Elynas where it belongs. Thus his free hand rises to garner as much aetherial energy as he can to form an auric sword of sapphire. ◜The time has come! This is your moment to impart its judgement upon it!◞

"I know the tree you are referring to." The sovereign confirms - a little surprised, perhaps, though concealing it, that the denouement of this tragedy should seem to find its place so close to the cave and roots near which he does not remember being born, but that carry the earliest memories he can remember. To summon the power its roots, that which the man calls Ley Lines, indeed sounds like a reasonable idea - albeit a risky one. With the black tide endlessly unfurling from the underground kingdom and the Abyss, the elemental lines are already quite shake; the hydro element has been restless, the waters agitated, sick, even, in some places. To pull further onto what elemental might can give, might precipitate the end of all instead of containing it.

Such concerns, however, seem to be at the forefront of the Khaenri'ahn's mind as much as his own, and with preoccupations come a solution that prompt a brow to raise on dignified visage. A human? Exerting command over the Ley Lines? Is this also Phanes' doing, or did the godless folk claim this power from themselves after the gods stole it from their rightful owners? Ancient memory stretches too far to remember the coming of men, a millenia-long black hole of ignorance digging a rift right in the middle, keeping proper understanding of the new laws of this world from the one who was not meant to be reborn in it.

He supposes this is a question he can address at an ulterior date. Action takes priority over a dragon's lamentations. "That I can tell you." The new Iudex immediately answers. "The hydro dragon, in theory, should possess the power and strength to withstand and purify the corruption from the waters before they seep into himself. However, in my current diminished state, the chances of my succumbing to the corruption are considerably higher. In the best of scenarios, I would perish in the process. In the worst one - I would become another extremely dangerous entity for you to contend with."

Needless to say, a perspective neither of them should take lightly. And as much as the current hydro dragon does not fear death, considering the circumstances, he would rather delay it. "I will do my part as long as you do yours. Now that we agree, let us make haste. Both Elynas' and the water's suffering have gone on for long enough."

Is the beast even aware of its own condition, its impending doom? It bumbles around the land, digs interminable crevices into the ground, rock and sand it passes through, clumsy child that realises not the destruction it leaves in its wake. Dragon and Bough Keeper emerge from and into the darkness, contemplate the devastating spectacle before them. The air around the vast area is heavy, suffocating, foul; upon skin hidden beneath the robes of the judge, shivers make the Iudex shudder. The abyssal energy is nothing short of overwhelming.

A glance is spared towards the Bough Keeper - a quiet agreement, that the time has come. Solemn in his stance, the sovereign advances, standing upon the edge of a rift, Elynas crawling just below. He closes his eyes, consciousness seeping into waters and currents, awakening the power of hydro lying beneath, fighting back against the corruption, roused by its ruler. Around him and Dainsleif, whatever light subsisted seems to disappear, engulfed in a strangely comforting darkness - and suddenly, the Iudex raises his cane, and hits the ground beneath his feet.

Like a single heartbeat, hydro springs forth, a giant illuminated tripartite sigil glowing blue beneath the immensity of Elynas, the surge of elemental power overwhelming abyssal darkness in turn. "Elynas is trapped." The sovereign announces to his companion, focused so as to wrestle with the abyssal power that already begins to fight back. "I'll keep hold on the beast. Go."