#Peruere gi

[ryouhatake]

🖤♥️🤍

🥵☀️❤️‍🔥

[yumenosakiacademy]

I heard that in Snezhnaya, colored light dances in the sky at night. When we're grown up... shall we go see it together?

Clervie & Peruere || "The Song Burning in the Embers"

[sapphireicecream]

❌

[lyacinthus]

HI I'M BACK W/ MY HUSBAND

[dumbtruk]

The Portrait of Innocence

The cold halls of the House of the Hearth were filled with whispers—dangerous secrets and murmurs that seemed to drift like smoke, lingering in the air long after the words had faded. It was a place of power and influence, ruled by the most cunning of the Fatui, each member carefully selected for their skill and ruthlessness. And at the center of it all was Arlecchino, the Knave.

Her reputation preceded her, a woman of cold beauty and even colder ambition. She commanded respect, fear, and devotion in equal measure. The children of the House, raised under her watchful eye, adored her as their matron, but they knew better than to cross her. Her mask of elegance and charm concealed something far more dangerous beneath, a predator lurking behind every polite smile and graceful gesture.

You had come to the House under strange circumstances—a visitor, an outsider with no ties to the Fatui. Your connection to her world was tenuous at best, and yet, you found yourself drawn into it, into her orbit. Arlecchino had taken a peculiar interest in you from the moment you met, her sharp eyes assessing, her gaze lingering on you with a calculated intensity that left you unsettled. And though you should have feared her, there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence, something that pulled you closer despite the warnings that echoed in the back of your mind.

"You are different from the others," Arlecchino had said, her voice soft yet commanding. "You don't belong here, and yet... I can see something in you. Something untouched."

Her words had left you confused and intrigued, a strange mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite place. There was something in the way she spoke to you, something in her eyes when she looked at you, that made you feel both exposed and desired. And as the days passed, you found yourself seeking her out more and more, captivated by her presence, despite the danger that seemed to radiate from her like a warning.

It was during one of these encounters that she led you to a small, dimly lit room deep within the House. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and in the center of the room stood an ornate, gilded mirror—a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its frame adorned with intricate carvings of serpents and roses. The surface of the mirror gleamed in the candlelight, reflecting the room with eerie clarity.

Arlecchino stood beside you, her hand resting lightly on your arm as she gestured toward the mirror. "Look," she said, her voice a low whisper. "Tell me what you see."

You hesitated, glancing at her before stepping closer to the mirror. For a moment, you saw nothing out of the ordinary—just your own reflection staring back at you. But then, as you looked deeper, something shifted. Your reflection began to change, subtly at first, then more noticeably. The face that stared back at you was no longer quite your own; it was a version of yourself—perfect, flawless, untouched by time or imperfection. It was the idealized image of who you could be, who you wanted to be.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Arlecchino's voice was like silk, smooth and intoxicating. "This mirror shows you not just your reflection, but the possibility of what you could become. Untouched by the world, untainted by age or hardship. Eternal beauty... eternal youth."

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the reflection, unable to tear your eyes away. It was mesmerizing, this vision of yourself—a version of you that was more than just human, more than just mortal. It was perfection, in every sense of the word.

But something about it felt wrong. You could feel it, deep in your gut—a gnawing sense of unease that tugged at the edges of your mind.

"What is this?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Arlecchino’s lips curved into a smile, but it was a smile that did not reach her eyes. "It is a gift," she said softly, stepping closer to you, her presence almost overwhelming. "A chance to escape the decay of time. To become more than you are, more than anyone else. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?"

Her words were like a poison, seeping into your thoughts, twisting your desires. You had never been one for vanity, never craved the kind of beauty that others sought so desperately. And yet, standing here in front of the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel the temptation tugging at you.

"What’s the cost?" you asked, your voice barely audible, though you already knew the answer.

Arlecchino’s smile widened, her fingers brushing lightly against your skin. "The cost is nothing... and everything," she said. "You won’t age, you won’t change. But your true self—the one that lives beneath the surface—will remain hidden, locked away in the mirror. Every sin, every vice, every cruel thought will manifest there, leaving you untouched. The reflection will bear the weight of it all."

The idea was both seductive and terrifying. Eternal youth, eternal beauty, the chance to live without consequence, without fear of time’s cruel hand. But at what cost?

You looked at her, searching for some sign of deception, but all you saw was her cool, calculating gaze. She was offering you something that most people would kill for, and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something darker at play, something far more dangerous than she was letting on.

"What happens to the reflection?" you asked, your voice tight with unease.

Arlecchino’s eyes glinted with amusement, as if she had been waiting for you to ask that question. "The reflection will take on all the burdens of your soul," she said. "Every act of cruelty, every moment of weakness, will be etched into it. But you won’t have to look at it. You can live freely, without the weight of guilt or regret."

For a long moment, you were silent, your mind racing with the implications of what she was offering. Could you really live like that? Could you accept eternal youth and beauty at the cost of your soul?

"I don’t want to lose myself," you said quietly, turning away from the mirror to face her.

Arlecchino’s smile faded, her expression turning cold and unreadable. "You wouldn’t be losing yourself," she said, her voice sharp. "You would be elevating yourself. Becoming something more."

"But what would I become?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

She stepped closer to you, her hand brushing against your cheek. "You would become whatever you want to be," she whispered, her voice like a siren’s call. "Free from the chains of morality, free to live as you please, without consequence."

Her words hung in the air, thick with temptation. And for a moment, you considered it—considered what it would be like to live without fear, without pain, without the constant weight of conscience. It was a tantalizing thought, one that tugged at the darkest corners of your mind.

But deep down, you knew that it wasn’t freedom she was offering. It was enslavement—to her, to the mirror, to the reflection that would slowly consume everything you were.

"I can’t," you said, stepping back from her, your voice trembling with resolve. "I won’t."

For a moment, Arlecchino’s expression remained unchanged, her eyes cold and calculating. But then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile—a smile that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Very well," she said softly, though there was a dangerous edge to her voice. "But remember this: the world is not kind to those who reject its gifts. And beauty... beauty is the most dangerous gift of all."

With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the room with the mirror. The reflection still lingered in the glass, watching you with eyes that were no longer your own.

And as you gazed into it, you realized that the temptation would never truly leave you. It would haunt you, just as Arlecchino would, a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for the moment when you would finally give in.

[abyssdeity]

Hoyoverse Icons - round 3 #5

Arlecchino Icon

Character: Arlecchino

Videogame: Genshin Impact

[pridewishes]

♔ || ARLECCHINO ICONS

250x250 || lesbian || bordered circle

like / rb + credit + read dni if using

gift for a friend !!

[aintaresz]

✎ : ⌜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬⌟

[spectraltenkai]

"Look at you, crawling like a bunch of ants... is it my turn yet? With these rising flames, you shall see the very balemoon itself."

Song: Absolutio Absoluta Absolutissime

I don't even have a witty description for this pic outside of how this is the first time I've really drawn this kind of angle before, a lot of experimentation was put into this because oh man Genshin designs are still painfully hard for me to draw with all those details, and the first boss in a longgg time that put the fear of god in me. Anyways, WOOO!

[favficbirthdays]

Happy Birthday

Arlecchino (22nd August)

Genshin Impact

[allykakamatsu]

Fontaine, the Land of Misunderstandings-

So yeah, TLDR on Eraqus's situation, right after the grave scene at the end of Dark Road, he and Xehanort end up getting sent to Teyvat and stuck with Dottore..... it goes about as well as that sounds. Eraqus eventually escapes but Xeha had to stay behind so now he's just trying to find people who want Dottore dead so he can take the Doctor down and rescue his boy best friend, in the meantime dodging any and all Fatui who would drag him back. That's why he was so terrified of Arle at first and had a lot of the group convinced she was evil, he found some reports about the Knave and Dottore's dealings, not knowing it was about Crucabena and not Arlecchino.

Also, haven't done the splash art yet but here's the full design reference:

support me on ko-fi here

[yumenosakiacademy]

"'Mother'... My answer... is NO."

Crucabena vs Peruere || "The Song Burning in the Embers"

[sapphireicecream]

🐣🐥

[dumbtruk]

The cold winds of Snezhnaya howled outside the Zapolyarny Palace, but inside, the atmosphere was even more frigid. Rosalyne, known to the world as La Signora, stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. She had received her orders: she was to go to Inazuma and confront the Raiden Shogun.

Arlecchino, the Knave, watched her from the shadows, her heart heavy with dread. She knew what this mission entailed, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Rosalyne. Their relationship, forged in the fires of ambition and the chill of understanding, had become her anchor in the storm of their lives.

“Rosalyne,” Arlecchino called softly, stepping into the light.

Rosalyne turned, her eyes cold and distant. “Arlecchino. What is it?”

Arlecchino took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Don’t go to Inazuma.”

Rosalyne’s expression hardened. “You know I have no choice. The Tsaritsa’s orders are absolute.”

“But you don’t have to follow them,” Arlecchino insisted, her voice trembling. “You don’t have to throw your life away for a mission that could be your end.”

Rosalyne’s eyes flashed with anger. “You think I fear death? I have faced it countless times. This is my duty.”

“It’s not just about duty,” Arlecchino pleaded, stepping closer. “It’s about us. About what we have. I can’t lose you, Rosalyne. Not like this.”

For a moment, Rosalyne’s icy facade cracked, and a flicker of pain crossed her face. “Arlecchino, you know what we are. We are Harbingers. Our lives are not our own.”

“But they could be,” Arlecchino whispered, reaching out to take Rosalyne’s hand. “We could find a way. Together.”

Rosalyne looked down at their intertwined fingers, her resolve wavering. “And what would you have me do? Defy the Tsaritsa? Abandon my duty?”

“Yes,” Arlecchino said fiercely. “If it means saving you, then yes. We can leave, disappear. Start a new life somewhere far from here.”

Tears welled up in Rosalyne’s eyes, and she shook her head. “You don’t understand. This is who I am. This is all I know.”

“And I know that I love you,” Arlecchino said, her voice breaking. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Please, Rosalyne. Stay with me.”

Rosalyne closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I wish it were that simple,” she whispered. “But I can’t. I have to go.”

Arlecchino’s heart shattered at those words, but she refused to give up. “Then let me come with you. Let me stand by your side.”

Rosalyne opened her eyes, her gaze filled with sorrow. “No. This is something I must do alone.”

Arlecchino’s grip tightened on Rosalyne’s hand, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Rosalyne. Don’t do this.��

Rosalyne gently pulled her hand away, her expression resolute. “Goodbye, Arlecchino.”

As Rosalyne turned and walked away, Arlecchino fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. The weight of her love and the agony of her loss crushed her, leaving her feeling more alone than ever.

In the end, Rosalyne’s duty to the Tsaritsa took her to Inazuma, and Arlecchino was left behind, her heart forever scarred by the choice that had torn them apart.

The days following Rosalyne’s departure were a blur for Arlecchino. The once vibrant halls of the Zapolyarny Palace felt empty and cold without her presence. Arlecchino threw herself into her work, trying to drown out the pain of her loss, but nothing could fill the void left by Rosalyne.

One evening, as Arlecchino sat alone in her quarters, a knock on the door broke the silence. She opened it to find a messenger, a grim expression on his face.

“Harbinger Arlecchino, I bring news from Inazuma,” he said, handing her a sealed letter.

With trembling hands, Arlecchino took the letter and dismissed the messenger. She broke the seal and began to read, her heart pounding in her chest. The letter was from a fellow Harbinger, detailing the events that had transpired in Inazuma.

Rosalyne had confronted the Raiden Shogun, and the battle had been fierce. Despite her immense power, Rosalyne had been defeated. The letter spoke of her bravery, her unwavering resolve, and her final moments.

Arlecchino’s vision blurred with tears as she read the last lines. Rosalyne had fought until the very end, her love for Arlecchino giving her the strength to face her fate. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

The letter slipped from Arlecchino’s fingers, and she sank to the floor, her body wracked with sobs. The pain of losing Rosalyne was unbearable, a wound that would never heal. She had tried to save her, but in the end, duty had taken Rosalyne away.

Days turned into weeks, and Arlecchino struggled to find a reason to go on. The world felt empty without Rosalyne, and the weight of her grief threatened to crush her. But she knew she couldn’t give up. Rosalyne had fought for her, had believed in her, and she couldn’t let that be in vain.

With a heavy heart, Arlecchino rose from the ashes of her despair. She vowed to honor Rosalyne’s memory, to carry on her legacy. She would become stronger, not just for herself, but for the woman she had loved and lost.

As the seasons changed, Arlecchino found a new purpose. She became a beacon of strength and resilience, her determination unyielding. And though the pain of losing Rosalyne never truly faded, it became a part of her, a reminder of the love they had shared and the sacrifices they had made.

In the end, Arlecchino knew that Rosalyne’s spirit lived on within her. And as long as she carried that love in her heart, she would never be alone.

[fjordstan]

ok. arlecchino demo goes hard

[megane-ga-niau]

Harpy Hare

Arlecchino character study

1,193 words

CW: Mentions of death, mentions of child experimentation, mentions of abuse, major spoilers for Arlecchino's story quest

Crossposted on Ao3

A/N: I've recently been obsessed with this House of the Hearth "Harpy Hare" animatic. It's just so arggghhhhhhhhhhh

Peruere never talks about her past because then she's right back in that moment, holding Clervie as she dies in Peruere's arms by her own hands. She's improved the House by leaps and bounds and yet it's not enough. Because her children still die, they still fear her. Not in the same way she feared Crucabena but treason can't be tolerated. Treason leads to more death, more lives lost and so she protects them and she kills them and she terrifies them and how can they decide what's right and wrong in this framework? They can't live normally, but then some of them could never live normally in the first place. Some of them were abandoned and scarred. A few of them were around since Crucabena. They never got any chance to process this.

This horrible Director abuses you and the woman - no, the teenager - who kills her takes over your orphanage. Crucabena's not a good woman or parent, but she's the only one you had. She's drilled into you that survival is for the fittest, that care doesn't come free. And maybe you recognize the usurper as the former king, the one who killed even her best friend for the position at the top.

What do you do with that knowledge? Knowing that she's stronger than even the Knave, knowing that she underwent the same training you did, maybe even worse. How do you live under her even if her reign is merciful? And when she puts up that mask of apathy, when she refuses to show that she cares, how do you react? How do you parse the way the one who doesn't care about you treats you better than the one that called herself Mother, who took on the mantle of your sole caregiver?

Do you know? Does she know? Can you ask? She calls herself Father, but have you ever met a Mother, or just the Director? The Director whose sanity seemed to be slipping day by day, whose kind mask was so impervious and yet disappeared at a moment's notice. Do you remember your parents, what they were like? The differences between a father and a mother? Do the differences scare you?

What if you're younger, newer? You know nothing of this mysterious 'Father'. They're never around it seems, initially. You're led around by other children who talk in hushed tones about how, "yeah, she's scary, but the Director was worse." "Don't misstep," they say, "you don't want to know what happens to traitors."

Either way, you watch in horror as those three, the ones that Father favors, the responsible ones, the ones who tell everyone what to do and how to act, those three are called traitors in front of everyone, how they challenge Father to a duel alongside the Traveler, 4 against 1 and still they lose. How even the highest among you can be in just as deep trouble as anyone else and there's nothing you can even do about it. She trained you. She bested the previous director. She's beaten her successors. She's beaten the savior of nations. And you're a child.

Does her promise that you can leave assuage you at all?

But you still love her. You love your siblings. You wish you could be 'normal', maybe, but can you truly leave all this behind? Forget an entire part of you? It's like she says, forgetting is like part of yourself dying. Are you ready for that?

At least if you die in the House, you have some faint control over it. Train harder, get better, live longer. It could happen anytime, but it hasn't happened yet. Forgetting is so final.

And for her? To watch as your children, the ones you claim no attachment to, walk away, choose to forget everything about you and all you've been through... you're not sure whether to be relieved or wish you had never given them the option at all.

They won't live like you, remembering as those closest to you lie limp in your arms. They won't lie awake with images of the life slipping out of their loved ones' eyes. But you'll barely see them again. Perhaps they'll live good and fulfilling lives outside the House. Perhaps they'll be happier. That's what you want as a Father, right? Isn't it?

...who knows.

When those three, the ones that remind you of your youth, the ones that know your danger most and yet were the first to stand up to you, when they decide to stay, how do you feel?

If you had been given that option back then, you would have taken it in a heartbeat. Even if the vial had held poison. Even if you died. Anything to leave this tortuous prison.

Should you be proud that you've managed to make this a place that the children would stay willingly? Should you be scared? After all, the most dangerous traps have the sweetest bait. Are you leading them to their death, just like so many children before them?

They're the hope you have for the House's future, but that's what you see in them. It's not their responsibility

...you'd miss them, though

How long can your unaffected mask last as more and more of your children die? Do you grow numb? You don't want to grow numb.

How did Mother do it? She never cared about you, you know that. The only time she ever showed emotion for you was when she was dying and there was that sickly satisfying fear and pride in her eyes. But still, that little girl inside you, the one you detest and yet protect in every child you take in, that little girl hopes. She wants so bad to believe that Crucabena cared, despite the abuse, despite the way she let you murder her daughter, encouraged you specifically to stab your closest confident, the girl who hoped until she broke and asked you to kill her. You did what she wanted and yet neither of you got what you wished for. Only Mother.

And you still want to believe Mother cared. You still want to ask her how she survived so many of you dying.

She's the one who did it, sent you on too hard missions, sent others to the Doctor, organized a bloody tournament when you all weren't dying fast enough.

You aren't her. You'll never be her. Have you become her?

You try your hardest. You organize the missions, avoid sending the ones without visions on the most difficult ones. They complain, but it's for their best.

And still! And still they come back injured, dying, dead. Still they come across missions where they earn visions through the sheer force of will to live that they needed to return to you.

How are you any better? They still fall, you still bury them. Do your intentions matter?

The Fatui will kill you all if you stop. The missions are the only way they live. The missions are the only way they die.

They should have left. You're glad they didn't. Maybe, someday, it'll be safe to stay.

You can only hope.