#❄ ��� IN CHARACTER. ╱ you breathe by the sun，i breathe by the moon.

[zorkaya-moved]

Zarina has appeared! What to do?

Flatter **** Fondle butt Kiss on the lips

"One 'mysterious choice' and admittance by the machine that I'm caked up too. Intriguing. And, hm, who wouldn't want to kiss me? I'll let you this time if you want. Just make sure you don't mind my lipstick on you~"

[zorkaya-moved]

　What dragged him to her truly was just a whim of his capricious heart, yet when has he ever cared for awaiting proper occasions to indulge?

　Never in his life, and much less when finding her so delightful today; with the sunlight reflecting on her silver hair and moon-kissed skin, her gilded gaze alluring as it was dangerous, making him feel like he was about to steal a well-guarded golden treasure the moment he stepped closer to her and took her hand on him, offering a small gentleman bow of his head in salutation, as he placed a kiss against the back of her palm.

　"―Care to indulge me in a dance, Miss Zarina?" A lopsided smile curled on his lips as he drew closer to her, watching her features in close inspection.

　"It has been quite a while since we've seen each other, don't you think? May as well indulge in something small for a start, then we can move onto something more intense." A spar? A makeout session? He's all for going with the flow of their reencounter.

@narvvhal

Capricious heart, you’ve always been the ocean’s strongest will. 

Zarina feared the ocean, the depth of abyssal seas and the drowning within the cold waters of Snezhnaya. Under the icy water, losing yourself was an easy danger to encounter. But she finds the ocean within him - as dangerous and unpredictable in his evolution - to be a pleasant one, the tides that kissed her with fervency when she expected him to drown her. They should be enemies, they should continue to fight against each other for she is a rebel and he is a young lord. But maybe, just maybe, in a world more wonderful they’re happy and dancing on the wintertide’s festival together with their families cheering for them and enjoying a wonderful dinner together in front of a bright flame of warmth and tenderness. In another world, more perfect than this, they could’ve been dressed in Snezhnayan clothes, so colorful in their flowery and wintry patterns, 

Perhaps, he drowns her to the point of her thinking such silly thoughts. A dream that pains, a dream that hurts, a dream that can never be fulfilled. He drowns her but she finds herself learning how to swim better and better, she learns what to expect and the ocean no longer becomes unpredictable and vicious against her fears. Zarina, instead, finds herself squeezing his hand without much thought as her lips curl into a familiar smile of mirth and playfulness, indulgence will help to dry off the tides touch as it beckoned her before with sweet dreams. She’ll have him now, as she always did, and it will be better than anything imagination can grant her. 

Because here, he takes her hand and brings her closer. The way he looks at her, says her name, indulges herself as much as he indulges in her company on his own. They don’t say a word of feelings, they let their actions play it off and their natural chemistry swirls in a dance between borders of life and death. With that in mind, the woman who bears the name of a hawk hums, pleased, not stepping away but letting him bring her closer. Surprisingly obedient in his hold, she places her free hand on his shoulder and tilts her head to the side. 

“You’ve missed me,” she doesn’t ask but states, there is a subtle teasing adoration in her words. How cruel fate is to them, isn’t it? To have such a perfect combination be someday wasted on the bloodshed, the field, and the blades crossed. (Spill my blood and warm your body with it at the end, so I’ll haunt you until the end of your time.) “I adore your honesty, and so, I will accept to have a dance with you.”

Her confidence shows its fangs once more as she tugs him to turn in a dance, not wasting time to let the lack of music bother them. They know dances, they know music by heart, they know the customs of festivals that bid farewell to winter and embrace spring’s joyful events. They call spring the season of love, but does it matter when winter has been everything they’ve known the best and found fire of passionate exchange within the deepest parts of snowy plains? Metaphorically speaking, of course, for he is water and she is ice. 

At his latest words, the passion promised, she laughs from the heart. Surprisingly bright in her laughter as she smiles at him, interest piqued as she knows his touch will always make her feel the warmth she craves so greedily. How cruel he is to be the only one to satisfy her wishes, to satiate the hunger, to claim the place within her mind and seemingly heart. 

(Why could we not have met sooner?) Melancholy is repressed by her bringing him closer and kissing him without saying a word. A kiss so sweet and so missed, a reunion promised long ago. She won’t die if it is not by his sword, she won’t die because she gave an oath to him. An oath when he slept so deeply by her side, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, golden eyes memorizing his face and wondering if she’d gone mad. Perhaps she did, but madness fuels the rebel, always. And in this madness, she’ll make her kiss be known as the one of familiar longing. 

I missed you too, her kiss says. 

And when she distances herself from him, her golden eyes shine with the light of sun above them. The green grass and the blue sky, it’s almost perfect. Not Snezhnaya, but it’s a fantastic dance to be promised. And then, they’ll unleash their weapons as they do, to reunite their iron in another dance that captures hearts of warriors and survivors. And then, after that, their kiss will be shared once more with a hint of copper on the tips of their tongues for a moment before another passion will return to claim their minds. A cycle, a circle of familiar events. 

“I’ll give you everything, and I’ll take everything you have,” her words are akin to velvet, a note of her voice dropping into a hushed whisper for him to hear only. An intimate secret they don’t care to hide, not really. “But for now, a dance it is. And after, the rest will come, my spear missed clashing with your blades. I've missed the sound of our battle.” 

It wouldn't be that bad to drown in him every time. She may fear the ocean’s cold hands, but drowning in Ayaks’ presence almost feels cathartic. In this ocean bearing his true name, she’ll drown endlessly.

[zorkaya-moved]

"Everyone has 3 rights when they speak to me: the right to be judged, the right to be silenced, and the right to kneel." Shut up.

[zorkaya-moved]

" it's not about trusting , it's about ... "

and there's a hesitation the way he draws his words , attempts to piece them together so they would make sense as the architect's arms find themselves at home around the waist he has held so many times before , felt up and embraced in moments he'd deem himself useless and weak. tender are the kisses kave places against the top of bright, cold locks, fingers tracing the front of zarina's stomach and heavy is the heart sinking within the chest pressing against her back as kaveh seeks comfort in the closest person he has come to a sanctuary; "... guilt."

for it is about guilt, the kind that festers and allows itself to brew away within a weary heart that wishes nothing but to part with a past lived and completed. it is not with a light heart he tucks away the most broken pieces of his story from zarina, covers up the stains of a ghost whose presence have lingered a little too long for everyone's taste, her name a burden to the son who simply wished to aid and to ensure her pride.

how can he find it in him to speak ill of the one who --- and he sinks further into the locks of his love, arms tightening as they remain within her house, zarina's frame locked within the architect's embrace; "... you say you'd love every part of me, and i believe it, but..."

it's hard for one who has loved hard unconditionally as long as kaveh.

"... how," and there's a tint of genuine disbelief in how he words himself, face seeking the comfort of zarina's neck, wounded as kaveh tends to her body as a shelter, "how can you say that? every promise, every confessiong of your love, i believe them and i believe them with all my heart, yet... there will always be a part of me asking how and why, why do you waste your love on me ? i have nothing to offer you, except my time, my heart, myself; is that really enough for someone as grand as you ?"

could he, truly, ever be enough for anyone?

he had always been too much for faranak.

hollow marron sinks close, the architect breathing into thick hair. "the harder i love, the further people slip away from me; i'm scared that you'll see just what you deserve, what you need, and that i'm not in either category... which, in truth... would be okay, as i've been taught that i don't amount for much, that i don't have the right to claim someone's time, and yet..."

a small breath.

"with you..." a kiss is placed upon her shoulder; "--- with you i find myself yearning to claim all of you, all the time, every day and as much as i want, zarina."

@avaere

Understanding of emotions is essential to her gains, to reaching her goals, and to manipulation of them like puppet strings. However, true understanding and empathy do not require any malicious desires behind them. Tender emotions and genuine understanding of another requires another skillset Sokolova knows herself not to possess to the perfect conditions, it’s not a sharp blade because it mustn’t be a blade - it must be a shield. A shield to protect those who she cares about, loves, and wishes to keep safe. It’s why these discussions almost make her feel desperate in an attempt to figure out, to understand, to support without any malice. Cynicism is on the tip of her tongue, bitterness of the world forever etched into her skin like invisible scars. 

It doesn’t feel good to study him. It doesn’t feel good to try and pick apart each and every thread of his mind. She can, she could have figured out everything on her own with pulling strings and using more underhanded tactics but she didn’t. Out of her love and respect for the architect, she tried countless times to repress said skills and to try and willingly avoid her gaze to give space. After all, analysis of others and her observations will be invasive and she always found pleasure in breaking apart walls others built around themselves to expose their core. Sokolova cannot allow herself to do the same with Kaveh, she couldn’t. It would mean her love and trust in him are not true, but those feelings are true and she did everything to secure the privacy Kaveh deserved. As much as she wished to understand the reason behind his distance, behind his sad smiles, behind his tension, behind his maroon eyes that would gloss over certain topics. 

Like their conversation prior. Her back faced him as she would cross her arms under her chest, tense from sadness over not understanding but also worry. Worry for him, worry for his well-being, worry for his emotional state, worry for what she could not help with and did not know where to offer a gentle touch and where to be stricter. If there was anything she ever wished for as much as her brothers’ happiness and safety, it was Kaveh’s happiness and safety. There are only three people in Teyvat she’d ever - without hesitation - give everything. Well, not like Victor needed anything from her anymore and Aleksey is now growing up to be independent. Those reasons are the biggest driving point for her to prioritize Kaveh and their relationship, slowly stepping away from black markets and cruelty to have more time to bask in the presence of her Sun. 

The Sun that finally shows new colors, opening up about his inner mind works. She hears him and she almost wishes she could look at his face, but Zarina stops herself. This atmosphere feels too fragile, too fleeting and maybe it’s better if she does not look him in the eyes to let him speak. Finally, to let him share and open up.

Guilt. 

The word will forever be memorized by the listener as she immediately relaxes when Kaveh approaches, wrapping his hands around her and brings her closer. It means safety, it means comfort, it means he seeks her out and it puts her at peace. She does not dare to interrupt him, listening attentively to each whisper, each soft confession, each change in his tone. If she cannot see his eyes, his voice will be what she pays sharp attention to. But each word spoken makes her heart clench and it hurts, it hurts like never before. She has never cared about others outside of her family, and Kaveh became one of the most important people to her. Her Sun is capable, is strong, is kind, but also is hiding so much pain within him that makes her wish to keep him protected from the world. But she cannot, the damage has been done already and Sokolova can only listen to understand everything, to hope to understand how to make his future just a bit better, just a bit brighter, just a bit safer. 

Guilt, the poison of mind just like envy and jealousy. Guilt, the corrosion of self-esteem and destroyer of peace. Who has led him to this view of himself? Who has harmed him so deeply that those old wounds continue to bleed and remind him of that disgusting emotion? Guilt is a weapon against one-self, guilt is a weapon and a weapon will always harm. 

It must be hard to speak those words out. Kaveh may not see her expressions, but her eyebrows are furrowed and her lips are pressed together in concern. Her silence may be present but only to let the architect talk without interruptions. It feels too fragile, she doesn’t wish for his sense of safety to speak about his hardships to be broken away. They’ve encouraged each other to feel safe in each other’s company, to feel comfortable, to share. They will learn, with time, how to open up more. But right now, these words from Kaveh are priceless and will never be forgotten. 

The bravery it takes to speak out about such innermost vulnerabilities… 

To show she cares and listens (and encourages him to continue), Sokolova places her hand atop of his as he continues to speak. There is no need to say anything out loud, not yet, not when he is confessing what he has on his heart, the heavy burden that must have never been lifted. He is no Atlas, he must never carry such a heavy load on his shoulders alone, not forever. Preferably, not ever. 

She cannot hold back a soft gasp at the hint of disbelief in his ‘how’. Another question returns: Just how badly was he hurt by someone he cared about in the past? To have so little love for himself when he gives out so much to her, to others, to the world? The world takes it and takes it, but never seems to return it to the architect. Who dared to make him doubt how wonderful, gentle, special and warm he is? All the questions circle in her mind, her hold on his hand tightens just a bit but relaxes immediately. His mind will continue to tell him he doesn’t deserve this, she deducts and closes her eyes, hiding away the pained gleam in them. Pained for him, for his broken pieces he finally shows and she finds herself only loving him more instead. 

He does not see himself worthy of happiness. He does not believe he deserves the comfort, safety and love he has now. That’s how his words sound and someone has made him believe in all of that. A human heart is known to her, she knows what strings to pull to make it come undone or break it into billions of pieces. Someone has done this to him and it seems that person remains alive and well. They live as he suffers, but the golden eyes - upon their opening - have a gleam of sharpness to them, a desire to find and hunt down the one who has casted such doubts upon him. She is aware, by now, who that person might be but what matters now is the current, the present. The one who keeps her close, hugging her and seemingly finding solace in her presence. 

Her soul responds to his words, to the broken images her mind creates in order to make the full picture. How lonely he must’ve been. How hurt he must’ve been. How denied he must’ve been to feel this way when he holds her close, when she tells him he’s all she needs, when they smile at each other and spend night or day together. Is this what love can bring? An emotion so strong that brings more others to itself, she’s never felt so strongly before. Her aching heart yearns to comfort him, to hold him close, to let him know he’s everything and more. More than this world deserves. 

If the world cannot handle it, she’d gladly turn it all around for him. But… Kaveh is a kind soul, too kind for his own good. 

That’s why her fingers caress his arms that are wrapped around her waist. She can feel his heart beating on her back, their closeness is evident and always present. His touch is warm and his voice is all she concentrates on to not allow even the smallest detail to escape her. It must be painful to expose yourself and your vulnerabilities, it’s something she can understand, going through the same when she confessed her own mindset and concerns. But this? It feels deeper, heavier. Because Kaveh cares. He cares and he loves so much. 

Who made him believe that doing anything for him is wasteful? How dare they make him believe he was a waste at all?

It’s hard to stay silent when he tells she’d stop loving him when she finds ‘what she needs’. 

“Kaveh,” her voice is raspy but also broken when she says his name, a soft whisper that encompasses the feeling of shattering. It hurts to hear him view himself in such a manner. Is this why he would distance himself? Is this why he didn’t want to say and open up? Is this why he had such a hard time claiming each other’s love in public? She remembers how she would tell him about her confidence in speaking of how he was hers, but prior she believed he might’ve been shy (finding it rather cute) but now the pieces are connected and her heart almost drops. 

There is no pity in her gaze that reflected pain and worry, there’s only a desire to love and embrace him, to simply be there for him to prove whoever made him believe these lies wrong over and over again. 

And yet, she must remain quiet for a bit longer. 

" with you i find myself yearning to claim all of you, all the time, every day and as much as i want, zarina."

Is it supposed to make her cry? Because she feels tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She never cries, she never allows herself to cry in front of others, and she never showcases such a weak sight of herself before others. Not her brothers, not her team, not even Kaveh. Ah, she did cry in front of him once, didn’t she? That’s not the point. The point is that his words and his honesty becomes everything she could’ve ever asked from him. The world cannot weigh the same as his words to her here and now, becoming the most essential wish of hers to understand him and to know just a bit what he feels. This is trust, no matter how painful and tough it is, but it is truth and trust. It is vulnerability and it is bravery. He’s so strong, her pride and love for him soar so high into the skies above Celestia. 

But right now, she swallows and breathes in. No tears must be shed, not now. 

“Thank you.” For telling me everything. For being honest. For doing this when it was so hard. 

It must’ve been so hard… 

“It must’ve been…” She finally speaks out, willing the tears and the emotions away. He makes her feel, makes her human, makes her experience all of this for the first time in her life. He made the worst person in Teyvat fall for him, wishing to be better with him and for him. Just a bit. Just a tiny bit. “It must’ve been so hard to say.”

Her free hand rises to let her fingers run through his blonde locks before sliding lower to let her fingertips caress his cheek. She may not see his expression, but she wishes to show him through touch how much love there will always be there for him, and him alone. This sweetness, this softness, this adoration and this love will only ever belong to him. 

“I cannot erase the feeling of guilt or make the voices go away,” she begins, wishing to give him her answer without going on a tangent. “But I will stay, I will be here by your side until you wish for that to stop. I will stay to always answer your how and why. How can I love you so much? Because you are yourself. Why do I keep loving you? Because every day you make my dream a reality, a dream I’ve tucked away as a child,” a small smile appears on her face as she leans back against him just a bit. “I will prove teachings of the past to be wrong over and over again. Be it minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years.” 

“My love is never wasted, it is an emotion of mine that nurtures and blossoms only because of you,” her poetic words may not truly be understood at this moment, but it feels right to say. “The more you give me, the more it blooms. The more you give me, the bigger the garden of my adoration grows,” she can only hope she can give them the flowers back as a showcase of her eternal love for him, eternal wish to be in his heart. Oh how she wishes for him to claim her, to wish for everything she is to be his and his alone. Someday, perhaps, someday he can loudly and confidently say it. “You offer me everything no one else have offered me before. I believed I’ve had everything I ever wished for: money, authority, knowledge, but it all felt… hollow. But you? You’ve made that hollowness disappear. You made the cold go away.”

He makes her heart beat instead of standing still, metaphorically speaking. 

“I, too, worry that my love for you will be too much for you sometimes,” she decides to say, her smile turning smaller and slightly pained. “I worry I’ll drown you in it and you’ll find me suffocating,” she lets out a strained chuckle, it feels shameful to admit how she is worried about her own love being too much. Even if she understands it’s out of her wish to not ‘drown’ him maliciously by accident. “And I love you so because I can see that you are everything I ever wished for, ever since I was a little girl in the snowy mountains of Snezhnaya. Everything I need, everything I want, everything and more, so much more than I could've ever wished for. I’ll never stop craving your love, your presence, you saying my name. I'm getting too greedy, too needy for you.”

The harder he loved, the further people slipped away from him? How lucky she is because she is addicted to his love, in love with his love and in love with him. His love is what keeps her garden of emotions alive, what keeps her as a human alive, and what will keep her as a human alive. If it’ll all disappear, she’ll wilt as cold and frigidness would return, erasing everything that makes her feel like a human again. It’ll return to the bitterness, the void, the hunger. The harder he'll love her, the stronger her response will be to embrace him, to kiss him, to love him, to wish for him to claim everything she is for himself.

“If you are worried, you can always ask me. If you are concerned, you can confide in me. If you feel you are too much, you can ask it out loud and my answer will always be the same: you are never too much. You are you, simply and wonderfully you. The one I want, the one I love.” Everything she needs, wants, dreams and more. So much more. “And every day, I’ll remind you that my time, my heart, my everything can be claimed by you. You may not feel right to claim right now, but I’ll always remind you that all I offer you belongs rightfully to you. Because you are you, and I only want you by my side, and I wish only to be by your side.”

Even if it takes years, she will not stop the little reminders, the softer whispers, the gentler touches and the loving gazes. Every how and why will be answered in a loving manner, with hands held and even kisses shared. And, hopefully, one day he’ll 

“I love you, Kaveh. Thank you for opening up about your feelings.”

It only makes her love him more and makes her wish to love him more. Would it be alright to hold back less in loving him? Would it be alright to be even more affectionate and adoring? Would it let him know he, too, can love her stronger? Time will tell, but it’s them who can make a difference. By talking, by opening up, by speaking out loud, by sharing.

[zorkaya-moved]

"Being abnormal is not a bad thing... We should just call it unique, honestly."

[zorkaya-moved]

"My fellow ball and chain, has Diamond decided to grant me the privilege of protection? What an hon-or~ I'll be sure to cherish it well."

Aventurine chuckles, twirling a coin between his fingers deftly. The irony isn't lost on him. To be sent to protect someone who's life was never fated to linger long. Perhaps it was a reminder of his place, that he wasn't even allowed the right to choose to die. Not without the IPC's watchful gaze burned onto his skin.

Such things had long become the norm. There was not much that could surprise the Stoneheart anymore.

At the very least, he could have his thrill. Turning nickel into gold.

The sound a coin being flipped in the air rings throughout the spacious room, the gambler catching it with a lack-a-daisical grin.

"So, what will it be? Heads, or tails?"

@celestial-narwhal

Diamond wishes to find one who can use the weapon correctly, the loyalty tested and the Emanator of Origin satisfied. The curse of the Apostle hangs over the head of Diamond, allowing the beast to lurk within the Stonehearts' ranks, protecting them from... From what? Ah, but is it ruly protection when there will be an order coming from the higher gemstone, telling the Stoneheart to end the life of their own bodyguard. It does not seem like Aventurine has received that order yet, it sounds more sadistic now. When will the order be issued? There are countless possibilities, Diamond wishes to use the blood of the silverette as a way to prove sincerity behind Stonehearts' loyalty. Or is it a simple torture? Attempt to find how each person will attempt to kill her, to end her, to bring her close but not enough to [salvation].

It should be considered a joke, the way her face is too pretty to be one of a bodyguard. The golden eyes, the fluffy white eyelashes, the lips colored in the prettiest shade of red, her silver hair - long and wavy - is in a high ponytail as the black suit covers her whole body but does not hide the curves and the beauty that may be hiding beneath. It's a lie, but it's such a beautiful lie. Some of the Stonehearts called her a joke, feeling insulted at the prospect of being protected by someone who seemed more like a beauty than the beast. But it does not matter, she only studies her current [liege] (toy) that Diamond allowed her to play with.

But this one... Oh, he is different. He and Topaz were unique on their own. She wants to play with this one for a bit longer. And yet, the play includes her keeping the controlled and calm appearance. She is an actor, she must put on the perfect mask to hide away the millennia of indulgence, gamble, and survival. She was once an empress, a saint, a sinner, a witch, a [Herrscher] (Sovereign). She is not a human, the Apostle of Origin hides within the lower ranks to learn how each person may use power presented to them. So how will this man spill the blood of a sacrificial beast? Or will he not be asked to end her life? Diamond might have grown tired of those attempts.

Aventurine is a man of class, she can see it, but she also knows the eyes of a survivor when she meets them. She taught countless young men and women who survived tragedies, broken by the cruelty of the world and repressed by authorities. Then again, he is still his own person, but she knows all too well how his type acts and how this indulgence in adrenaline rushes will act up in their exchange. This job will finally be interesting, she thinks to herself, as her eyes watch the coin in his hands. What deft fingers, she hopes he won't use them to wrap around her neck. She won't let any fingers reach for her neck. A knife will do, but nothing wrapped.

Her expression is one of impassiveness, but it only makes her look more beautiful. An ice-cold maiden clad in black and white, monochrome tones bring attention to the ichor in her eyes and to the red of her lips. It's all perfectly captured, but she remains immoving with her hands hidden behind her back.

Do you truly want an answer, child of man? Don't you seek salvation? Wil diamond shackles ask you to baptize yourself in the blood of a saintly sinner like myself? I wonder.

She will play the antithesis to his character. Time will tell when she will need to show more of her fangs for the sake of fun. Amusement is flourishing in her chest but she remains emotionless, calm and collected. The picture of professionalism. If only he knew what was going inside her head.

"As my liege, you should not concern yourself with my opinion," she tells him calmly, looking up from his hands to his face. He is handsome, she will give him that. Any and all expressions he can show her will be worth it, worth this engagement. She wants to have fun before the clocks tick and before the script of Destiny's Slave will ask for her to step forward on the path of Akivili. But right now, Aventurine is the one who has this fake leash that Diamond has given him without any explanations. How cruel of Diamond, but how expected of IPC. She finds Aventurine's situation a disgusting showcase of human nature, the one she witnessed before. He is a person, so she wants to know what a [person] behind this title will do with the power once he is aware of what he holds. "But if you wish for my answer, it would be heads. At the end, you were able to turn the coin in your hand."

It was easy for her eyes and mind to calculate the correctness of the fall. Physics and analysis, this is a child's play for someone who is not a human and who has such striking golden eyes. Will he be satisfied with it? Or will he want to play more? It makes her wonder. How far can her indifference drive him to indulge her? Oh, it will be a glorious time. For others, it may be a headache, but the Apostle is a cruel and vicious woman inside.

"Mr. Aventurine, your schedule requires us to leave in an hour," her voice is melodic, far too melodic fo a bodyguard. A siren, certainly, she is one to fool the sailors. "Moving forward, you may consider me your shadow, but if there is anything you desire: do not hesitate to order me. I am no longer under Diamond's order, but yours. Use me as you wish."

What wishes and orders will he give? A man with a history like his. She is curious.

[zorkaya-moved]

"How do you do it?" He murmurs, leaning over the railing and staring off into the horizon. "You seem to always keep your head held high.. how do.. how do you move on?"

@etherealguard

Discipline, Aponia's words are still strong on her existence after millenia. Fifty thousand years. Origin's blessing. A smile of an Aeon who just wants the world and all what is beautiful to continue existing. A promise given to 14 people and the inability to protect just 2 people.

The maiden of winter sighs, eyes closing for a moment. The memory of several people echo, too vividly as they cannot be erased even if she wants them to be. From horrors to beauties, they are ever-existing and ever-persistent in her mind. Dan Heng would remember something and he would not remember something else, it's how the mortal mind should work: forgetting is a part of life. But not in case of existence like hers where mental chains created by those who killed Gods would be placed upon her, once-destroyer and once-traitor of humanity.

"Unlike you, I have more chains around my neck than you do to keep me looking forward," she explains, joining him in leaning over the railing and looking forward. Zarina doesn't smile or smirk or say anything that brings out any sense of comfort. "I forget, but I am forced to remember several memories because of a [discipline] placed upon me, to force me to fight, to move on, to continue."

It's morbid. She cannot offer him comfort or salvation on this journey. Origin will keep her alive until there is no way back, until (Nanook) Destruction will find Origin and strike her, spilling blood of the purest maiden and spirit in the galaxy. Does Dan Heng really want to know how she keeps it together? Zarina doesn't think it's worth it, she thinks it won't be his way and his path. Everyone has different reasons to move forward and continue existing.

"My way won't work for you, Dan Heng," she glances at him then, a soft yet sad smile crossing her features. "You don't have fifty thousand years, and I'll never wish them upon you."