#daybreakrising: vautrin

[immobiliter]

@daybreakrising sent: It took a little bribing of the landlord (including a casual drop of Neuvillette's name, which he is only a little ashamed about doing) to allow him entry into Furina's apartment whilst she was out - dragged, he knew, by the intimidating Clorinde and the not-quite-as-intimidating Navia. Sneaking in like this felt wrong, almost, but he cannot very well arrange a surprise party with her there, and so, here he was, standing in her living space with a basket of goods in one hand and a cake box in the other.

He's familiar with this place by now, so it doesn't take him long to set things up. He lays out a new tablecloth upon her rather modest dining table (blue, like her favourite outfit, exquisitely embroidered with the common sea creatures of Fontaine's oceans - a little whimsical, perhaps, but he knows she'll enjoy it) and begins laying out the various items he has procured on his way here.

There are little cakes and pastries, chocolates and sweets. He has a special little display of those particular pastries that look like swans - the first one she ever gave him. There are savoury foods too, of course, to balance out the sweet: breads, fruits, cheeses, meats. He has arranged a small feast upon the now rather crowded table. But there is one spot left: centre stage, of course. It is here that he places a rather ornate cake stand, borrowed from the Palais (specifically, from Neuvillette).

His attention turns now to the box he brought with him. It bears no brand or label from any of the bakeries within Fontaine, for one very simple reason: he has, of course, baked it himself. A recipe he can recall with absolute clarity, as it was once his sister's favourite - the cake she asked for every year without fail. It probably doesn't match the standards of the ones his parents used to buy from the high-end bakeries of the past, but it looks right and he's ninety-percent sure it tastes right, too. He lifts it carefully from its box and arranges it upon the stand, taking a moment to turn it this way and that before finding its best angle.

Knowing he probably only has another ten minutes or so before Clorinde and Navia return Furina to her home, and only about five minutes before her other close friends arrive (a small gathering, he promised himself, knowing she would likely favour that), he moves to the phonograph, selects a piece of music that he knows is one of her favourites, and sets it playing in the background.

And then he turns to the last item he has brought with him: a tall glass dome set into a marble base, within which a single Romaritime flower grows in a bed of soil, fully in bloom as the dome itself is filled with water. He carries it with great care to the coffee table, and props an envelope against its side upon which bears the name: Furina. The card inside is simple, though made with fine materials, the writing painstakingly neat and elegant (it took him many attempts to get it perfect), and it reads:

Furina, I have never been good with words, though words are not truly necessary with us, I feel. But I shall try nonetheless. You have become someone so very dear to me, and you have filled a gap in my soul I thought would never close. You have become my best friend, my confidante, and you have also become akin to a sister to me. This flower was once the favourite of my sister, Illaria. She was always so very sad that she could not keep one on her windowsill to look at day and night, and I told her that one day, I would find a way to capture their bloom for her. I think she would be so very happy that I fulfilled my promise, even if it was not to her. Thank you for everything, and happy birthday. Vautrin

       It was an odd thing, to wake up on her birthday and not have a specific, regimented routine to follow. Tradition had dictated how such a celebrated public holiday should go for centuries, always planned weeks in advance, and afforded only minor tweaks over the years as society had shifted and changed with the times. Today, there was none of that. She was no longer Fontaine's archon. She was, instead, a human, left to celebrate the day of her birth ( birth, or creation in her case? she did not know if the day she had designated her birthday was the same as Focalors', or even when hers was. the knowledge did not exist in her memories ) as every other human in Teyvat did.

       If anyone were to ask her how she wished to spend it, Furina would confess that she had no idea where to start. Thankfully, Navia and Clorinde had come to her rescue that very morning and whisked her away to the shopping district in the Court, where the two of them had revealed their joint gift: a custom tailored piece of clothing of her choice from Chioriya Boutique.

       After the fitting, they had returned her to her apartment — just enough time, she would soon realise, for the main event to be prepared in her absence. Upon re-entering her living space, she was greeted by a chorus of cheering and singing, and the next hours were spent laughing and talking and enjoying the company of the few individuals that, in recent months, she had come to call friends.

       Small. Intimate. Special. All of the things her birthday had never been, not in five hundred years. Furina noticed the way that her favourite music appeared to always be playing on her phonograph in the corner, quiet enough to not disturb the group conversation, but still catching her attention whenever she caught those familiar, favoured bars or chords. She noticed the blue tablecloth decorated with cute little critters, and she particularly noticed the stand in the centre of her table that housed the birthday cake. If she wasn't mistaken, that was an exact replica of — or indeed the exact same — cake stand that Neuvillette always kept in his office for when he was entertaining guests.

       All of this helped put together a picture of who had been the driving force behind her surprise party. He did not publicly acknowledge the fact to the group, or insist on taking credit — Furina knew that Vautrin was content to not have the spotlight on him, even if he deserved the praise. But while she wasn't quite able to quiz him on his involvement in the company of her other guests, as the last to leave when the sun began to set in the sky, she finally spied her chance to express her heartfelt gratitude.

       Before he could protest, her arms were around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “ Thank you for the surprise. ” As Furina drew back, she fixed Vautrin with a knowing look. “ The cake was yours, wasn't it? And the music, nobody else knows what my favourite compositions are. I don't know how you managed to get into my apartment to arrange all this when I didn't leave a spare key behind, but thank you. ”

       It was only much later, as darkness fell and all her guests had departed, when she discovered the Romaritime flower and note left on her coffee table, that her sense of gratitude increased tenfold. Unshed tears stung at the edges of her vision as she sat on her sofa and opened the envelope and, as her gaze took in the bluey-purple glow of the flower on the table, she knew that such a personal gift was about to become one of her most cherished possessions.

       The flower would remain centre stage in this new home of hers, never to be moved or replaced — as treasured in her heart as the man who had gifted it to her.

[immobiliter]

       Had she made a mistake? Was this when he would turn from her and walk away, wanting nothing to do with a woman who had sacrilegiously lied to her own people regarding her own divinity for five centuries? In her anxiety over how Vautrin might react to the revelation, Furina knew that her mind was jumping to irrational conclusion after irrational conclusion, but she couldn't seem to stop it. Her gloved hands gripped each other tightly in her lap. Breathe in. Breathe out. And then finally he spoke, and reached out to place his hand on her arm.

       There was no anger, no confusion, no sense of rejection in his voice. He hadn't asked for her to elaborate, hadn't tried to piece together the remainder of the story, hadn't bombarded her with questions about where the divine power of the Hydro Archon was, if it had never resided with her to begin with. Instead, Vautrin just looked sad ( the same sort of sadness that she'd seen reflected in Neuvillette's gaze whenever she'd noticed him looking at her for too long ), his words cutting through to the pain and torment she'd had to suffer through without her even having to put it into words.

       You truly are amazing, Miss Furina. His words were hard to accept, and a strangled noise escaped her throat — half a scoff, half a sob. “ I don’t know about that. ” Tears began to stream down her face. Despite her valiant attempts to the contrary, the dam had burst, and there was no holding back the centuries old wound that continued to bleed. “ To Fontaine I am the archon who didn’t act until the very last second to save her people. You must have heard what happened in Poisson… I couldn’t help them, I couldn’t do anything… ”

       She knew in her heart that there was nothing she could have done against the Primordial Sea, but there must have been something pre-emptive she could have done to save more lives in Poisson. She could have had the entire village evacuated after Neuvillette had become aware of the breach deep within the Meropide, she could have had better emergency plans drawn up to deal with these sorts of incidents. Instead, she had been paralysed by her own fear of the prophecy coming to pass, her sanity long since slipping away at the edges, desperate for her mirror-reflection self to intervene and prove that all of this suffering hadn't been for naught.

       Furina reached up to wipe her eyes, her voice shaking. “ I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to put on someone who barely even knows me. ” For some reason it was easy to forget that she had never known him personally as a Captain working under the Chief Justice. Vautrin did not feel like a stranger to her — perhaps because he was the ghost who had haunted the Palais Mermonia for years after being sent to the Meropide.

       Her gaze strayed to the dark, empty street around them. Devoid of life, save for the two lost souls who had stumbled upon each other at this dark, lonely hour of the night. “ Neuvillette is the only one who knows the full truth... and he's done so much for me already. ” Too much, she would argue, completely dependent on him as she was for the apartment and all of the expenses involved in living there day to day. “ But although the flood waters receded without taking any more lives, there are days when I still feel like I'm drowning in them. ”

Perhaps it is because he himself has never been one to talk too openly, but Vautrin has always been rather adept at listening. He understands that some people require patience, that they need time to gather themselves before they can even consider opening up about their problems. So he sits, and he waits, quietly and calmly, while the woman seated beside him wrestles with her thoughts.

In truth, part of him doesn't expect her to speak again - or, at least, not on the subject that troubles her. He has offered his willing ear, but she is not obliged to take it. He is, after all, no more than a face from a distant past. But if she does decide to trust in him, he will listen.

His patience is rewarded when, at last, she does speak. He understands immediately - he knows a thing or two about secrets, about matters that are difficult to talk about. There are few he can tell the truth about his identity, after all, even if he knew what to tell them. As far as any general public is aware, he is simply a former resident of the Meropide. No one these days would remember Vautrin - no one but those who had been there.

He doesn't interrupt - he lets her say her piece until there is a natural opening for a response, should she wish one. Her revelation about the trial summons painful memories, of course. He knows what that feels like, to be on the wrong side of that judgement. His heart aches for them both - for Furina, shouldering the weight of her secret, facing a charge that weighed even heavier; and for Neuvillette, having to pass judgement on yet another familiar face.

The reveal is not quite what he expected, though it is also not completely a surprise. Human. Yes, he can understand why that must have been a dire secret to keep. And, whilst the situations cannot possibly be compared, he knows what it's like to have to pretend to be something you're not. Only I was in denial, and my secret wouldn't endanger the entirety of Fontaine.

He can feel her gaze upon him as he processes the information, and he can sense the nerves that roll off her in waves. This reading emotion thing is still something he's getting used to, but it's helpful, too. "That... that must have been such a burden to bear alone." This time, it is he who reaches out to her - his hand rests gently atop her arm in a gesture he hopes conveys comfort.

"Such a major part to play, with no one to support you. The most important role in your life, and at the end of it, no one to acknowledge the strength and effort it took to master." No one but Neuvillette, he muses, and... now me. He offers her a sad, gentle smile. "You truly are amazing, Miss Furina. I do not think anyone else could still stand after that." His hand lightly squeezes where it rests on her arm. "I am sorry you had to suffer alone."

[resolutepath]

and bc I like pain: 💞 vautrin for neuvi ;) any timeline, any kind of love ;)

You say this like you don't know I'm going to immediately put it into the messy pot of everything.

Before Vautrin "died" and Neuvillette did not know what it was he was experiencing, it was quality time. Taking time in his day, even but a few moments for a conversation, usually one where he encouraged Vautrin to share his thoughts and experiences.

Along the lines of the above, but also trusting him in the plans to integrate the Melusines into society, bringing him into his inner circle, taking his advice on matters to achieve the best outcome. He essentially trusted Vautrin to become his human lens on the world.

Sharing meals together. Whether working a case or finding an evening off, it would not be uncommon for him to invite Vautrin to his office with food Sedene has found for him, or to Café Lutece.

Letting him go. I think this is the biggest one, but obviously Vautrin reappearing does bring up those old emotions that were never dealt with but it's not fair to keep lingering on them because he's not the person he was back then and has moved on kind of at this point, and Vautrin deserves not to be held back by the one connection to the world he knew but rather find out who he is in this world. So he does let him go, at least romantically, and their friendship finds new meaning in this day and age.

With the change of dynamic, the new type of care is shown through being an anchor in this new world. In being a place Vautrin can retreat to when the world is too much. His office really hasn't changed so it's a haven in the ever-changing world.

Send 💞 for me to describe 5 ways my muse says ‘I love you’ to yours. // @daybreakrising

[ccaptain]

@daybreakrising liked for a starter! TWICE

   Mondstadt is the city of freedom, and will always be.

   it's also home to a lot of small festivities, some decorations and boots that will be taken off by the end of the day- but, until then, people are free to enjoy drinks, snacks and peculiar little games. 

   since his friend has approached the city just as a little celebration was happening, Kaeya did the only sensible thing a good friend would have done: Vautrin's hand was swiftly grabbed and the poor lad was happily lead to the main square.

   it didn't mattered if it was almost dawn, and people were getting ready to dismantle their boots and head home with their gains for the day- what mattered was the music playing from a gramophone somebody was hosting from a window, and the couples gathering to do a small dance- most of them fueled by alcohol, some of them by the pure and simple chance to have fun.

   their partners, the duo of both Wriothesley's, are currently unavailable to do a few spins- still...

   this is where a little lightbulb pops on Kaeya's head.

   ' Vautrin! ' he turns, eye pratically sparkling, his hand stretched out towards him. ' let's dance! '

   what a direct proposal! he didn't even hesitated!

   ' ah, um, ' he stutters, his smile hidden behind his palm. ' what i meant to say is... would you allow me this dance, monsieur Vautrin? ' he completes it with a bow that's all mischievous mockery, playfully insolent and affectionate towards him.

   you can say many things about Kaeya, but not that he isn't a menace... an adorable, daring menace who sweeps everyone off their feet just like this.

   ' please? '

[wwriothesley]

@daybreakrising: “Things can be replaced and homes rebuilt, people can’t.” (vautrin after wrio puts himself at risk again-) ( meme source. )

      he's listening, of course he is; even when all he can make out is a glowing outline of Vautrin, Wriothesley is listening to something that makes sense. in fact- 

      in fact, he was a bit too reckless this time. as his boyfriend stitching back a gash on his leg isn't proof of this, his skin still tingles with the phantom feeling of dryed blood despite having been cleaned. there's no need to defend himself- if he didn't happened to pass by and hear the frightened melusines calling him for help, things would have ended badly for the poor group, and a first aid was administered as a treasure hunter's knife got a bit too friendly with him.

      thank god these crooks didn't had any idea of where to strike- Wriothesley's sudden appearence sent the bullies into a panic, adrenaline-filled frenzy doing nothing against precise hits. if they were experts with a much cooler head, the knife would have sliced the femoral artery and left him to bleed out in the grass.

      “ i can't promise it won't happen again, ” he keeps it real, doesn't sugarcoat or tells lies and promises that both would know to be empty. “ however- i can be more careful... and stronger. if i dispatch the threat, it can't threaten me- right? ”

[devourensarc]

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖?

Love as a Flaw

Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

tagged by : @todestochter (tyyyyy <3) tagging : @rayonnere @pairidaezah @icerberus @daybreakrising (thoma or vautrin, perhaps?) @orchideae @ofluminance (lumine or clorinde) + steal!

[immobiliter]

       While the thought of all that had been lacking in her life over the past centuries brought with it a sense of profound sadness, it was easy to put aside in favour of her curiosity at finding out why Vautrin had brought the topic up in the first place. Love — in the way that most humans understood it — might have been unfamiliar and alien to her, but it had always been a source of fascination all the same, something that she had ( until now, she supposed ) only been permitted to marvel at from afar.

       So Furina continued to sit and listen quietly as Vautrin entered into his story, having barely touched her own wine on the table. It was always a little jarring to hear him speak so clearly of a past that was now so distant to her, sometimes so difficult to recall and grasp, like grains of sand falling through her fingers, or a phonograph playing muffled sound from another room. But she remembered how rigid certain things were. The Fontaine she had inherited from Egeria post-Cataclysm was a vastly different place to the nation she lived in now.

       Slowly, the pieces came together, and when they all finally clicked into place, providing her with a name — a name surprising yet one Furina ought to have expected, a name that made perfect sense... the delight that rapidly filled her heart made it light and yet fit to burst at the same time. She beamed at him.

       Her dear Iudex, as lonely and isolated from the rest of humanity as she had been for all those years. The dragon sovereign she had summoned to her Court for reasons unknown to her at the time and taught to live among the humans he so tragically resembled. How many times had he balked at her pushing to go out among her people and connect with them? It seemed her attempts had not been in vain as she might have feared: saving all Fontainians from their sin aside, unbeknownst to her Neuvillette had also been the keeper to a human heart all this time.

       She could still sense her friend's discomfort and, in an attempt to alleviate it and coax his gaze, Furina reached across the table to take both of his hands in hers. “ Vautrin... the love you feel for this man was never wrong. ” She gently squeezed; matters of propriety regarding one's superior aside, she sensed that this was still something he needed to understand and accept about his life then. “ He was fortunate to have you then, and is even more fortunate to have you back in his life now. ”

       To think that if Vautrin had lived out his sentence in the Meropide as intended, he would have taken such a secret to the grave. Four hundred years late was not too late, now was it? Surely not to a dragon, nor to a human trapped in the Primordial Sea for the past four centuries... or a masquerading deity who had tried to amputate everything human about her long ago. Furina tilted her head at him sympathetically. “ And, knowing him as I do... he's completely oblivious to all of this, isn't he? ”

His ears burned hot the moment the words left his lips, but he cannot retract them now - and neither, really, does he want to. He is comfortable enough to allow this side of himself to shine through: the human, vulnerable edge he often kept hidden even when he was but a human. But despite his desire to open himself up, to trust her with his biggest secret, he still cannot shake the embarrassment of the subject, particularly as she is oh so familiar with the object of his heart's desire - though she does not know it. Yet.

Have you? she asks, and he feels the heat now creeping into his face. He takes a sip of wine, pretends not to notice the way his hand trembles ever so slightly as it lifts the glass to his lips. He has not spoken this out loud before. He never dreamed there would be a day where he could. And yet... here he is, preparing to do just that.

"I... have." He refuses to look at her - cannot, lest he quickly regret his decision and veer off into another topic. "Though it took me some time to realise it... and even longer to admit it."

"I was in denial for a very long time." He sighs, a sad sound that carries a thread of longing within it. "Things may be different now, but I am sure you remember how things were back then - society had certain rules, things that were considered... unacceptable. And there were standards, an image, that I had to live up to. So I convinced myself that what I felt was... simply the care of a close friend. I believed it, too, until..." Until the day I had to say goodbye, for what I thought would be forever.

He pauses, drinks more wine, and still he does not look at her. "The person I fell in love with... who I am still in love with even now... was the wrong person, back then." His voice quivers - he is nervous, beyond anything he has ever felt before. "A man." And here, now, is the reason for his nerves: "And, at that time, my superior."

There can be no question now to whom he refers. He was the captain of his division - the only superior he answered to was, of course, Neuvillette.

[resolutepath]

neuvi, talk about vautrin ;)

"Vautrin was... is one of the first I was to call by the moniker of friend. You might say that he is the oldest of all my companions bar the Melusines." It feels strange on his tongue to convert to the present tense once more for a man he has already grieved for so viciously, and yet there is irrefutable proof that Vautrin lives. Only yesterday he had seen him staring at Sedene in a way he himself has done and chatting idly with the Harbinger who lingers in the city. "In a time when I was determined to remain distant, he showed me that compassion was no weakness..." Strange that he cannot yet apply this rule once more to the odd ground that lies between them, the uncomfortable silences that stretch when the idle chatter has fallen away, like he has forgotten how to talk to him. Perhaps he has. "There are many things he has taught me, I will forever be grateful for the fortune of coming to know him."

TALK ABOUT... // @daybreakrising

[ccaptain]

@daybreakrising: [ DRINK ] also vautrin would like one pls ( meme source. )

   ' if you faint from too much alcohol, i'll be carrying you home, 'it's the sympathetic thing that is told to the poor man, before Kaeya gets to work with a few musical hums.

   inside a glass, after frosting it over with a bit of Cryo mist, a base of blueberry juice is dripped and rolled around to cover the frozen areas of it. to secure it in place, a little huff of addictional frost must be added- and et voilà, all sealed! it'll melt once hit with the generous dose of a light, delicious wine that master Diluc just added to the list- the alcohol should start melting the ice soon. but before it can, swift finger add a cute crown of addictional blueberries, sliced halfway to allow him to do this, leaving just some space for Vautrin's mouth to sip from the glass.

   as a funny touch, a little, thin sword of ice is dipped in the drink as a decoration.

   Kaeya was never this smug until now.

[resolutepath]

❛   forgive me, for all the things i did. but mostly the things i didn’t do.  ❜  (vautrin for neuvi bc I demand the pain)

Today in Fontaine it pours. The deluge was not forecasted, yet here, as the one with the capacity to change as much shares the same space as a man thought long gone, there is little else that can be done. Forgive me... he asks, and all that can be done is allow lids to descend over eyes, masking the wealth of turbulence within, the storm of emotion felt at such a juncture.

He does not need to ask what the things he did not do are. They both know that between them lies a barren landscape, one that was once blooming with new growth, that held prospects of something alive and thriving, now left shrivelled and decayed. Back then, there was no name for it, not for one such as he who had proclaimed distance above all else yet allowed this man to defy that, but it was there, whispering at the fringes. Until everything changed, until the day Carole's life was stolen by the hatred perpetuated and justice was fractured into the personal and the independent.

"Do you need it? My forgiveness...?" He asks because he must know, yet even those very words feel heavy on his tongue, another sentence he offers unwillingly when it comes to this man. A swallow follows and finally he lets lids open and turns his head to view the returned companion at his side. There are many thoughts in his head and words in his throat, but there they remain lodged, clogging his airway, adding pressure to his chest as he cannot release them. There is something small within him that has awakened from where it hides in answer to Vautrin and it trembles.

"If anything, then it is I who ought ask if you can bear to give me the same. It is of no illusion that the actions taken were ones that forced you into a place where..." you met your end, does not really hold up any longer. You became something more than yourself. You rotted until something claimed you. Whatever way he turns it in his mind there is little favourable he can offer that might ease the burden of his sentencing of all that Vautrin must have endured after Carole that he did little to help with.

"I make no excuses for what was done. Only ask you understand it." He already does. It does not escape the Hydro Sovereign that his once closest knew exactly what he was doing, and had played his part of the sacrificial piece in order to secure the faith for the future of Fontaine. Two friends who gave up everything, two stories that had not reached their conclusion bought to a swift, abrupt ending.

Still he knows he casts avoidance on the latter half of the sentiment, a place that - should he linger on it - makes a penitent expression creep onto his visage, encourages him to turn his gaze away for shame. For that space that was once theirs alone is now gone and yet in its place he alone has found another. Has begun to cultivate space once more as though he has forgotten all that was.

The rain drives harder, the pitter patter upon the pavements less steady pulse and now fierce rhythm as he pulls his gaze away and turns back to the world beyond. Perhaps it had been foolish to indulge in anything. There are some things that are meant to be beyond his reach.

"Forgive me. I have matters of the court that cannot wait any longer... when matters calm, perhaps we can meet again." There will be no more calm for the sole sovereign of this nation, but Vautrin does not need to know that. "Be safe, Vautrin."

[immobiliter]

       Navia knew little about this man other than that he was a friend of Monsieur Neuvillette's — which, in itself, was enough to attract her curiosity. Fontaine's Iudex seemed such a solitary man, content with his laws and his work and the companionship of the many melusines who found employment within the Palais Memonia, that the thought of him having a human friend seemed... absurd. So absurd, perhaps, that she would have insisted she meet him even if he hadn't arrived at Poisson offering to help with the rebuild following the flood.

       Like the others who had arrived here offering their assistance, both in an official and unofficial capacity, she had set him to work, and the scale of the operation had prevented her from catching him alone to truly ask what being the friend of the Chief Justice was like. But, in those quieter moments like the one just now, she'd had the chance to observe him — and an aura of melancholy seemed to permeate into his very being.

       Curious or not, she knew better than to pry. But, as she approached the edge of the dock and sat down beside him, legs dangling over the water below, his words told her a story all their own.

       She paused at his question, her blue eyes still watching him, shoulders hunched, gaze cast downward — a shell of a man, if she did say so herself. “ I remind myself that I'm not a ghost. Perhaps I should be, after everything that has happened, but that just makes it all the more remarkable that I'm still here. ” Her mother, her father, Melus, Silver... they were losses that would always weigh heavily on her. Losses she would carry with her for the rest of her life. “ Those I've lost... they wouldn't want me to join them. In fact, they did everything in their power to ensure that I'm still standing here. ” Another pause, her expression wavering a little. Her hands gripped each other in her lap. “ I owe it to them to keep going, don't you think? No matter how hard it is, no matter how sad I am or how much I miss them. I have to keep moving forward, for all the people who still rely on me. ”

@immobiliter: ❝ there are ghosts everywhere. we carry them with us wherever we go. ❞ ( navia for vautrin! )

He sits upon the edge of the platform, his gaze fixed upon the water waiting below his dangling legs and the distorted reflection it provides. Poisson offers a kind of unique peace - there is noise and bustle, yes, but it is... homely, almost. A far cry from the cacophony of the city, at least. He is starting to understand why Neuvillette suggested he make contact with the president of the Spina di Rosula. It was not only to provide him with a means of work, but perhaps, also, to offer him some reprieve from the confines of the Court.

The rippling image below transfixes him, as does the itch beneath his skin that calls, yearns, for the water. An itch he is still adjusting to; an itch he suspects he will carry with him for... well, however long he is expected to live in this new... form. The noise around him melts away into the background until all he can hear is the soft lapping of waves.

...and then, rather abruptly, a voice at his side.

He lifts his head, slides his primordial gaze away from the water below and instead looks upon the face that so readily welcomed him in. She is of increasing interest to him - she carries a weight in her heart that he recognises all too well, yet it doesn't seem to diminish the light that exudes from her in seemingly effortless waves.

"Some of us carry more than others." His eyes linger upon her, momentarily distracted by the faint shimmer he can see upon her skin. Neuvillette said little regarding her experiences during the unfolding of the prophecy, but he knows what that shimmer means. He sees it whenever he dares to look in a mirror. The Primordial Sea.

Aware that he is staring, he averts his gaze, returning his focus to the surface of the water once more. "And what can you do when the weight becomes too much to bear? When it threatens to drag you to the depths?"

She has caught him in one of his bouts of melancholy, it seems - a frequently recurring affair since his return to the living world. He was never a... cheerful person by any means, but this is something else entirely. Yet another side effect of his time in the Sea, it appears. "How do you bear it, Demoiselle? How can you remain so... vibrant?"

[ccaptain]

@daybreakrising: ♡ also, for funsies, vautrin- ( meme source. )

●●●○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●●● | AFFECTION ●○○○○ | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

[ccaptain]

post a playlist of 5 songs for your muse. ( picking H:SR Kaeya specifically )

i. burn brighter. - lansdowns

ii. when legends rise. - godsmack

iii. country song. - seether

iv. battle! sada & turo (pokèmon scarlet/violet) - vetrom

v. glitter & gold. - barns courtney

tagged by: i stole it... teehee tagging: @predvestnik (chelb or kaveh) @dupliciti @daybreakrising (vautrin), @resolutepath (welt or if u have a muse ur feeling in particulary pick that one) @snowtombedstar

[ccaptain]

what ghost haunts you?

the ghost of the damned.

you rot with the need for something more than what you have. the ghost is built up of the feeling of stagnation. you find it staring at the ceiling with sleep - blurred vision ; this is the third night you have met its eyes in the early hours of the morning. you tear yourself apart looking for comfort, for validation, for acceptance. but it never feels quite enough. you ruin everything you touch, despite every attempt to be more than what you have always been. you would sculpt yourself as something perfect for those around you, but you are no artist. when albert camus wrote, “be silent, heart; there is no hope!” when lucille clifton wrote, “maybe i should’ve wanted less. maybe i should’ve ignored the bowl in me, begging to be filled.” when taylor swift said, “i’m still on that tightrope, i’m still trying everything to get you looking at me.”

tagged by: @duelmarks KISS ♥ tagging: @predvestnik, @daybreakrising ( gimme the usual wrio & vautrin and if u feel like it gallagher too ♥ ), @resolutepath ( DILUC ), & everyone else who wants to have a go

[resolutepath]

"No you're right, you were worse." Ruthless as she is, Carole still laughs for though he was terrible in the first place, he has come so far and learnt so much. Now it is impossible to call him anything but a staunch supporter of the Melusine, and she feels safe walking through the streets with him at her side. Even the stares filled with the most venom cannot touch him as they work together, bringing Neuvillette's justice to the streets of Fontaine.

The laughter is short-lived as he returns to the previous serious tone, crouching down to her eye level and creating a connection that she cannot evade. A wistful sigh escapes her as he reiterates the dream, the one she wants for all her sisters, for the future of the nation. Humans are so fearful and distrusting and she does not understand why they are so hateful towards those trying to help. It is impossible to understand the drive to shun so viciously. "I hope you're right, Vautrin. It gets a little tiring wearing a smile every day."

Her arm raises she she can reach out and touch his hand as it rests upon his shoulder, grateful for the comfort. It does ease her mind to know he is in her corner and fighting the Melusine cause. "I wish every person in Fontaine was like you. Noble at the core and just in need of a little reassurance on the surface. It would make it all so much easier. But I guess too many Vautrins would leave a very stubborn population."

There's a slight flush of colour in his cheeks at her reminder of his usual demeanour, his normally quite pessimistic outlook on life and his refusal to appear vulnerable to those around him. His emotions are normally kept closely guarded, yet over the course of their partnership - their friendship - she has worn him down.

It helps that she reminds him, painfully sometimes, of his sister.

"Hey, now..." He chides, fondly. "I wasn't that bad." He was. He knows he was. But he had been reluctant to let anyone else close to him, afraid of suffering the same pain if they were to be taken from him like Illaria. He's not sure if all melusines are this way, but Carole proved to be even more stubborn than he is. She worked her way in until she became... family.

And he will defend her like family, no matter what. "I want to tell you that one day, you will be able to walk these streets without the shadow of hatred hanging over you. I do, I really do..." He sighs, crouching down so they are eye-level. "And I know we've made some progress, but... it's not enough. I promise you now, Carole, I won't stop until we've changed things. I'll do whatever it takes."

He puts a hand on her shoulder, offers her a rare smile. "If you can wear down this stone-faced blockhead, then you can charm every person in Fontaine. I'm sure of it."

[ccaptain]

which imaginary illness do you have?

Melancholic Pneumonia.

You carry the past with you, it clutters up your lungs. The golden sand of beloved memories, the rainbow of missed opportunities you still agonize over, the dust of a life spend doing mostly banal things. They escape you with every breath, your cough stained with impossible colors. In a way the dust reflects your constant forgetting of the past - the hundreds of things you let go of every day to make room for hundreds more. You are choking on your own past, the architect of your own demise, each breath sour and harsh. Letting go of the past now won't do you any good - it's far to late already, your melancholy is already flooding your lungs. Enjoy a few last breaths of the present. The past is catching up quick.

tagged by: i stole c: heoehoehehoe tagging: my pookies @predvestnik @resolutepath (diluc!), @daybreakrising (either wrio or vautrin or both or you can pick the muse) + everyone else. steal from me