#gurgen

[evgormobilya]

GÜRGEN AĞACI ÖZELLİKLERİ NELERDİR?

Mobilya üretiminde kullanılan temel malzeme ahşaptır. Mobilyaların iskeletlerinin ana materyali olan ahşap koltuk takımları ile sandalyelerde ayak kısımlarının tamamını kapsar. Masa ve sehpa gibi bütünüyle ahşap ürünlerde ise ahşaptan başka üretim materyali bulunmaz.

Mobilya yapımında ahşap kullanılmasının ana mantığı ise ahşabın sağlam bir malzeme olması ve uzun süreli kullanım sağlamasıdır. Modern mobilya ya da klasik mobilya seçtiğiniz ürünlerin tarzı ne olursa olsun dayanıklı ve kaliteli olmaları üretildikleri ahşaba bağlıdır. Ahşabın kalitesini belirleyen ise hammaddesi, yani hangi ağaçtan edildiğidir.

Mobilya yapımında en çok tercih edilen ağaçlardan biri dayanıklı ve sert yapısı ile bilinen gürgen ağacı olmaktadır. Mobilya seçiminde aranan nitelikleri tam olarak karşılayan ve kaliteli ahşap üretiminin hammaddesi olan gürgen ağacı özellikleri nelerdir? sorusuna yanıt verelim.

Gürgen Ağacının Özellikleri

Gürgen ağaçları huşgiller ailesinin birer üyesidir.

Gürgen hem bol yağış alan nemli ve sulak hem de kurak bölgelerde yetişebilir.

Ülkemizde bu ağaçlara sıkça rastlanır. Türkiye’nin hemen her yerinde mevcut olan gürgen ağaçları en çok Karadeniz’de bulunur. Karadeniz kıyılarında gürgen ormanları vardır.

Dünyada 25 farklı türü olan bu ağaçların Türkiye’de iki çeşidi bulunur. İlki “Adi Gürgen” adı verilen ve Karadeniz’de yetişen gürgen türüdür. Boyu en çok 30 metreyi bulabilen Adi gürgenin kerestesi çok değerlidir. “Doğu Gürgeni” ise en fazla 10 metre uzunluğunda olur ve kurak bölgelerde rahatlıkla yetişebilir.

Ülkemizde gürgen ağaçlarının boyları, ortalama 7 ila 8 metre civarındadır.

Bir orman ağacı olan gürgen ağacı sert ve sağlam bir yapıya sahiptir. Öyle ki gürgen ağacı sadece mobilya yapımında değil gemi üretiminde de tercih edilir.

Gürgen çok dayanıklı olduğu için yıllarca yıpranma ve bozulma yapmaz. Ama sert yapısı nedeniyle kolay kırılmaz ve işlenmesi kolay değildir. Bu da gürgen ağacının işenmesi için fazlaca emek, uzmanlık ve maliyet gerektiği anlamına gelir.  

Sağlıklı bir hammadde olan gürgen ağacından oyuncak yapımında da yararlanılır.

Gürgen ağacının gövdesi oluklu yapıda, rengi ise gri tonundadır. Odunu ise beyaz renktir.

Neden Gürgen Ağacından Üretilen Mobilyalar Tercih Edilmeli?

Gemiden oyuncağa, yemek kaşığından merdivene, elbise askısından tuval yapımına kadar pek çok alanda hammadde olan gürgen ağacı mobilya üretiminde de ana materyal olarak kullanılır. Gürgen ağacının bu kadar geniş bir yelpazede kendine yer bulmasının nedeni ülkemizde yaygın olarak yetişmesidir. Ama bu neden gürgen ağacının birçok üretim kolunda tercih edilmesini tek başına açıklamaz.

Gürgen ağacı sağlam ve sert bir yapıya sahiptir. Dolayısıyla gürgenden yapılan ürünler uzun süre yıpranmadan kullanılabilir. Çok zor kırıldığı ve bu sebeple esneme payı az olduğu için işlenmesi zor olan bu ağaçtan elde edilen keresteler çok dayanıklıdır. Buradan işlenmesi kolay olmadığı için uzmanlık gerektiren gürgen mobilyaların özenle ve profesyonel şekilde üretilmesi gerektiği sonucuna çıkarılabilir. Ayr��ca bu ağaçtan oyuncak ve mutfak gereçleri yapıldığı düşünüldüğünde gürgen materyallerin insan sağlığına hiçbir zararı olmadığı da açıktır.

Üretimi zahmetli olan ve işlenmesinde özenli bir işçilik isteyen gürgen ağacı keresteleri çoğunlukla klasik model mobilyalar için ideal bir seçimdir. Üretim maliyetleri nedeniyle fiyatları da yukarıda seyreden gürgenden yapılmış mobilyalar oldukça kalitelidir. Bu sebeple gürgen ağacından üretilen mobilyalar nitelikli ve elit bir tercihtir diyebiliriz.

[metamorphesque]

On February 19, 2004, 26-year-old Armenian Army Lieutenant Gurgen Margaryan was asleep in his room in Budapest, where he had come to participate in a NATO-sponsored Partnership for Peace program — a mission meant to promote cooperation and understanding between nations. But instead of peace, he met unimaginable brutality.

In the dead of night, azeri officer ramil safarov crept into his room, armed with an axe. Without hesitation, he delivered 16 savage blows to Gurgen’s defenseless, sleeping body, brutally hacking him to death. Sixteen times. Sixteen blows to a young man who never even had a chance to defend himself. Sixteen blows of pure hatred by a cowardly bastard from a tribe bred to hate and ravage.

And what did safarov do after this unspeakable crime, you'd ask? He didn’t deny it. He didn’t hide. He proudly admitted to the murder, claiming he had done it simply because Gurgen was Armenian. He even declared that if given the chance, he would have killed another. No remorse. No regret. No shame.

This is how Gurgen's Hungarian roommate, Kuti Balash, remembers the evening before the murder: “Gurgen and I were sharing a room at the dormitory. The evening before the murder I was watching a football match between Armenia and Hungary, while Gurgen was sitting at the desk preparing his homework. He just came back from the gym.” Staying with them on the same floor were participants of different nationalities, including ramil safarov and another azerbaijani officer. Balash mentions that there were no conflicts among any members of the group. The subject of international conflicts was discussed only once, during the first day of getting acquainted, but nobody spoke of it afterwards.

On the evening of February 18, Balash had tea and went to bed, as he had fever, while Gurgen Margaryan kept on studying. Around 9:30 p.m. Margaryan went to visit another program participant from Armenia, Hayk Makuchyan, who was staying in another room.

Balash does not remember when Gurgen came back, but early in the morning he felt that someone turned on the light. He thought it was Gurgen returning to the room, but after hearing some muffled sounds, he turned his head away from the wall and saw the azerbaijani officer standing by Gurgen’s bed, with a long axe in his hands.

“By that time I understood that something terrible had happened for there was blood all around. I started to shout at the azerbaijani urging him to stop it. He said that had no problems with me and would not touch me, stabbed Gurgen a couple of more times and left. The expression of his face was as if he was glad he had finished something important. Greatly shocked, I ran out of the room to find help, and ramil went in another direction.”

What happened next testifies that the murder had been planned in advance. It was not a crime of a personal motivations between Gurgen and ramil. Immediately after murdering Lieutenant Margaryan, ramil safarov went to the room of the second Armenian officer, to finish with him as well.

That morning, after committing his first murder, ramil went to Makuchyan's room with an intention to kill him. In the corridor, meeting a classmate from Uzbekistan who came out of the room after hearing suspicious noise, ramil offered him to come and assist him in killing the second Armenian. The Uzbek tried to calm the murderer down but did not manage to stop him.

Afterwards everyone confessed that they were frightened to approach ramil with a blood-stained axe closer than at three meters. Approaching Makuchyan’s room, ramil tried to open it by shaking its handle. As Makuchyan confessed, he usually had a habit of locking doors, unlike Gurgen, but that night he forgot to do it, and the door was locked by his Lithuanian roommate.

Being unable to open the door, ramil started to shout out Makuchyan's name in a threatening voice. Half asleep, Hayk went towards the door to open it, but his Lithuanian roommate managed to save him for the second time. He stopped Hayk from opening the door, as he thought that there was a real threat in safarov's voice and that he might be armed. To make sure, he phoned to another Lithuanian who lived at the same corridor asking him to check whether safarov was armed and what was going on at all. Meanwhile, safarov went to look for Hayk in the room of the Serbian and the Ukrainian roommates, showing them the blood-stained axe and stating that he thirsted for nobody's blood but Armenian. Hayk Makuchyan was told afterwards, that ramil ran to the room of another azerbaijani officer, told him something in azerbaijani, and then ran and stabbed the door of Makuchyan’s room three times with an axe. By that time the second Lithuanian and the police approached.

Justice? There was none. Though Hungary sentenced him to life in prison, in 2012, Hungary handed him over to azerbaijan, 'believing he would serve his sentence' (An investigation by a Hungarian news agency reveals that azerbaijan has used a $3 billion slush fund to facilitate safarov's release and extradition).

The moment he stepped onto azeri soil, safarov was greeted as a hero. A hero! Not only was he pardoned by azerbaijan’s president aliev, but he was promoted, given a home, back pay for his years in prison, and welcomed like a champion—for killing a SLEEPING Armenian.

So, if you ever find yourself sharing a space with an azeri, you'd better make sure the door is locked.

[crypticcherriez]

Guys, hear me out...

OHH! She's a frozen treat with an all new taste 'Cause she came to this planet from outer space A refugee of an interstellar war But now she's at your local grocery store

Jellie Treat

She's a pet for your tummy Jellie Treat She's super duper yummy Cookie Cat She left her family behind Jellie treat!

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Re: Finnish vs Swedish debate, I kinda loosing my mind over other USAmericans mixing up the two. Finnish is infamously different from the other Nordic languages! When written, Finnish is pretty hard to mistake for anything else and it has a distinct sound when spoken. Spoken Swedish sounds so Swedish there's an entire muppet character based around Swedish nonsense words. Swedish and Finnish accents are both pretty distinct, too! I might be over reacting but I feel like Im defending the honor over here.

Right!!! Finnish is so different from Swedish (and Danish, and Norwegian, and Icelandic), it becomes most clear when you view both written down. "Jag och mina kompisar är glad eftersom solen skiner" vs "Minä ja kaverini olemme iloisia koska aurinko paistaa". Those ä's and ö's are common "foreign" ground but Swedish has more of those exotic consonants (and å)... exotic to me, because Finnish seldom uses d's or g's or f's. I can't say since I'm Finnish myself and naturally my brain is tuned into Finnish frequency but. They sound so different too. Swedes sing!

I suppose it's quite understandable for someone who isn't really familiar with these fine minute differences to not realise though. It helps me to speak one fluently and have learned one in school lmao. I can hardly distinguish the Scandinavian languages myself!! I'm all out of my element in those, let alone every single other language in the world and their clear and distinct differences to their native speakers! xO

[russianfigureskatinghell]

It's almost like most of her "failures" were caused by chronic health conditions that came from her coach being an abusive pos..... wild.

[sexhaver]

i was going to write a long post about the extent to which anti-Armenian racism is enshrined in Azeri culture but then i realized i could save myself a lot of time by just telling you to read the wikipedia article on Gurgen Margaryan's murder instead

[minijenn]

Story Summary: What would happen if the Crystal Gems had settled down in a place other than Beach City, a little backwoods town just west of weird…? What if, upon coming to Gravity Falls for the summer, Dipper and Mabel were to befriend Steven and Connie? What kind of magical, mysterious adventures would they have? And, how would they fare against the combined threats of merciless Homeworld Gems and a certain triangular demon?

Find out what happens when Magic and Mystery meet in Universe Falls...

Chapter Summary: With the Red Eye threatening to destroy Gravity Falls, Steven, Dipper, and Mabel set out to search for the pair of Laser Light Cannons that once belonged to Rose Quartz. “Ohhhhhh! He’s a frozen treat with an all-new taste!” “‘Cause he came to this planet from outer space!” “A refugee from an interstellar war!” “But now he’s at your local grocery store!” “Cookie Cat! He’s a pet for your tummy!” “Cookie Cat! He’s super-duper yummy!” “Cookie Cat! He left his family behind!” “Cookie Caaaaat!” “Now available at Gurgens off Route 109!” Steven brightly finished, holding his own Cookie Cat high into the air. As soon as Mabel finished her half of the rap duet, she eagerly stuffed her own ice cream sandwich into her mouth. Dipper, on the other hand, could only roll his eyes as he tore open his own frozen treat. “And here I thought Mabel was the only person who memorized commercial jingles word-for-word,” he said, grinning nonetheless. “Mm! So good!” Mabel exclaimed, ignoring the mess of ice cream smeared across her face. “Steven, where on earth did you get these Cookie Cats? I thought they stopped making them!” “They did,” Steven hopped off the couch, heading over to the freezer where his Cookie Cat stash awaited. “But the Gems got a whole bunch of them for me from the factory a few weeks ago. I’ve eaten a few already, but I’ve been saving most of them for a special occasion. And what could be a more special occasion than you guys finally getting the chance to hang out here at the temple?”

Click the link to read more; all comments are appreciated!

[enjamin-the-benitor]

gurgen geitner

[semtituloh]

Gurgen Mahari's portrait

Panos Terlemezian

Titulo original: Գուրգեն Մահարու դիմանկարը

Fecha: 1932

Estilo: Simbolismo

Género: retrato

Media: pastel, paper

Dimensiones: 49 x 63 cm

[warningsine]

Nagorno-Karabakh’s Parliament has elected Samvel Shahramanyan as the region’s new president. Officials have expressed hope that he will be able to achieve a ‘breakthrough’ in the region’s negotiations with Azerbaijan, which has held Nagorno-Karabakh under blockade for over nine months. 

Sharhamanyan was elected in an extraordinary session on Saturday. 

According to CivilNet, 23 members of parliament took part in the voting, with 22 voting for Shahramanyan and one against. 

Four out of five factions of Nagorno-Karabakh’s parliament on Wednesday nominated Samvel Shahramanyan for the post of president. He was appointed to the position of State Minister a day before Arayik Harutyunyan’s resignation from the post of president.

An application by the United Motherland parliamentary faction to nominate Samvel Babayan, the faction’s leader, was rejected on the grounds that Babayan had not permanently lived in Nagorno-Karabakh for the past ten years, a requirement for presidential candidates. Speaking to RFE/RL on Monday, Babayan stated that his parliamentary faction would not participate in the vote, instead holding a protest against the ‘predetermined’ election in Stepanakert. 

However, the votes of the remaining four factions were enough to elect Shahramanyan, as the constitution of Nagorno-Karabakh requires the votes of two thirds of MPs to elect a president. 

Who is Samvel Shahramanyan?

Samvel Shahramanyan, 44, is believed to be close friends with Bako Sahakyan, the third president of Nagorno-Karabakh. In 2018, during his presidency, Sahakyan appointed Shahramanyan as director of the National Security Service. 

Shortly after Arayik Harutyunyan was elected president in 2020, Shahramanyan was appointed head of the newly-created Ministry of Military Patriotism, Youth, Sports, and Tourism. In January 2023, Shahramanyan was appointed secretary of Nagorno-Karabakh’s Security Council, and was amongst those participating in meetings between representatives of Nagorno-Karabakh, Azerbaijan, and Russian peacekeepers on 1 March. 

A number of MPs have stated their belief that Shahramanyan can bring together opposing groups in society, and could potentially bring about a ‘breakthrough’ in the ongoing blockade, having previously engaged in discussion with Azerbaijan. Nagorno-Karabakh has been under blockade by Azerbaijan since December 2022, with international and local groups increasingly warning that the region is experiencing an acute humanitarian crisis. 

[Read more: ‘Bread is all we have’: Nagorno-Karabakh’s population faces threat of starvation]

Political analyst Tigran Grigoryan told CivilNet that Shahramanyan would not be independent, instead representing a political group consolidated by Ruben Vardanyan, the billionaire former State Minister. Harutyunyan’s resignation came soon after former state minister Ruben Vardanyan demanded he step down. 

‘Now the decision-making process will take on a more collective nature’, said Grigoryan. ‘Most likely the former presidents, Ruben Vardanyan and their entourage will rule the country through a joint decision-making process.’

Reasons for Harutyunyan’s resignation

Arayik Harutyunyan resigned on 1 September, a day after firing the region’s second most senior official, State Minister Gurgen Nersisyan. In his statement Harutyunyan suggested that holding on to the post could be an impediment to negotiations with the Azerbaijani government.

Just 10 days before his resignation, Harutyunyan signed into law changes that allowed his successor to be appointed by parliament, rather than through a public election. 

The changes state that during martial law, if a president leaves office early then parliament should appoint a replacement to carry out the remainder of their term. Nagorno-Karabakh has been under martial law since the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War, and Haratunyan’s current term was due to end in 2025.

Harutyunan’s resignation has been discussed within the region since the end of the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War, with the president initially promising to resign once the situation had ‘normalised’. 

Harutyunyan was also associated with Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan, with some opposition members suggesting that Harutyunyan’s departure could remove ‘obligations’ to the Armenian PM. When he was elected, Harutyunyan was seen as being close to the Armenian PM, though their relationship later soured.

[metamorphesque]

On March 1, 1984, a short article titled "Imprisoned Armenian Dies" appeared in the New York Times: “Gourgen Migirdic Yanikian, an Armenian author and engineer who killed two Turkish consular officials in California in 1973, died Monday in prison of natural causes. He was 88 years old. He was sentenced to life in prison in July 1973 for first-degree murder."

But who was this man? And why did he commit this "crime"?

Gourgen Yanikyan was born on December 24, 1895, in the city of Karin, Western Armenia, into a traditional Armenian family. Gourgen was six months old when the hamidian massacres began, claiming the lives of approximately 300,000 Armenians. His father had good relations with the Persian consul in Karin, and with the consul's help, the Yanikyan family found refuge in the Persian consulate, escaping the massacres. After two weeks of safety, they were transferred by a mountain road to the village of Kyotah near Kars on the consul’s orders. Suddenly, it was discovered that Gourgen was missing. He had fallen on the road from his mother’s arms that were numbed from the cold. Despite the danger, his mother and brother Hakob went back and, after walking about six kilometers, found Gourgen nearly lifeless. They revived him with the warmth of their bodies.

Six years later, the mother returned to Erzurum with Gourgen and Hakob, intending to take back the money and documents hidden in their barn back. While digging, two turks arrived, captured Hakob, beheaded him, and took the iron chest. The mother and Gourgen witnessed everything from their hiding place. A terrified Gourgen tried to scream, but his mother held his mouth shut. Gourgen never forgot this tragedy throughout his life. For political reasons, he became a Persian citizen and later moved to Switzerland with his family, where he continued his education, which he later pursued in Tbilisi and Moscow.

Like many Armenians of his time, he experienced the devastating effects of the massacres committed by the turks against Armenians. He lost 26 family members to the Armenian Genocide of 1915, as well as his homeland—Western Armenia.

Although Gourgen was far from his homeland, the injustice of the genocide never left him. He had exhausted all peaceful means to inform the world about the genocide and hold turkey accountable for the atrocities they committed.

He chose cinema as the means to achieve his goal: “Our plan was very simple. With our personal funds, we secretly planned to make a film showing the world the sufferings of our people and the barbaric turkish massacres, not forgetting the Armenian genocide and the conspiracy of so-called civilized nations against our rights."

Yanikian's factual book "Paradise" (originally in English), which his wife Shushanik had titled, became the basis for a screenplay. Several foreigners joined the film project, and they shot 20 hours of material depicting turkish atrocities with striking authenticity.

"The film was to be shown simultaneously in the capitals of three different countries, free of charge. Flyers explaining the purpose and our demands were to be distributed with the tickets… The goal was to return the land stolen from the Armenian people to its rightful owners and provide compensation for our two million victims. Many individuals were to join the cause once the film was ready."

Despite the strong dedication to completing "Paradise," the endeavor was unsuccessful because U.S.-Turkey alliances and strategic interests were prioritized, and the US government hindered the production of the film.

Yanikyan, by then old but not despairing, had spent decades using every peaceful means to punish the perpetrators of the Armenian Genocide and avenge his compatriots, but he ultimately felt compelled to choose an alternative.

"In all my writings, I always defended the belief that violence should disappear from our lives. But when all of this happened and humanity and the world remained silent about the Armenian Question, I made the decision to take action in order to bring the Armenian cause to the attention of humanity and world governments."

On January 27, 1973, at the age of 78, Gourgen Yanikyan, without hesitation, fired 13 bullets at the turkish consul and vice-consul in Santa Barbara in his room at the "Baltimore" hotel. Following a highly publicized trial, Yanikyan was sentenced to life imprisonment, and in 1984, with a clear conscience, he passed away into eternity.

But his sacrifice was not in vain: the Armenian Question was finally brought back from the dusty archives of history. By sacrificing his freedom, Yanikyan ignited a movement. His act became the catalyst for a wave of Armenian activism, inspiring the creation of ASALA, who would go on to fight for the recognition of the genocide.

Everyone condemns violence but, alas, it is the only language the world understands.

[wisteriashouse]

a flower just for you.

pairing: the wanderer x izanami yuzurin (oc)

genre: genshin; romance;

word count: 16163

a/n: thank you for the commission! @hinokami-s

The flowers have grown well again this season.

Yuzurin carefully checks over the blossoms in her arms once, twice, thrice as she makes her way through Sumeru City. One of the Sumeru Roses is a little bruised from a prior scuffle with a Eremite mercenary, but it will be fine for medicinal uses. The Bimarstan had been hit by a shortage — a whopperflower had been found growing in one of the fields nearby, how had that even happened — and they had ended up putting in an emergency order with her just less than a couple of days ago.

By any other flower merchant’s standards, such a short time frame would be ridiculous, if not outright impossible to meet. Still, if Yuzurin’s flowers can help to synthesise vital medicine, then she will do everything in her power to help. And being fortunate enough to be blessed with a Dendro Vision, Yuzurin’s power is significant enough to make a difference.

Same goes for these flowers. A little Dendro energy sprinkled here and there, and these bruised petals will be as good as new!

Sumeru City is quiet as Yuzurin makes her way through the winding paths and streets of the lower levels, waving awkwardly to the occasional familiar merchant or scholar she passes by.

“Yuzurin!”

Yuzurin startles at the sound of her name. The voice is bright and quick, like glimpses of morning sunlight falling through the verdant canopy, but most importantly, it is familiar. She turns around, her expression brightening when she comes face to face with its owner. “Paimon!”

The white haired fairy swoops over to her at once, leaving a trail of sparkling constellations and her companion in her wake. “It’s so surprising to see you here, Yuzurin!” Paimon is an unstoppable torrent of words and cheer, and her eyes sparkle like a splash of stars in the night sky as she speaks. “What are you doing in Sumeru City? Paimon thought you were the type to never leave the forest!”

As much as Yuzurin feels like she should deny it, Paimon is right. She doesn’t interact too often with the cityfolk, instead preferring the isolated tranquillity of Avidya Forest. The Kirin are, by nature, a reclusive and solitary race, but fate sometimes decides to cross her path with those of others, and a handful of those shine bright in her memories. People such as this one.

“It’s good to see you, Yuzurin.” The Traveler walks over from Hamawi’s general goods store, a half eaten Zaytun peach in a gloved hand. His smile, however, quickly turns concerned. “Although I’m not sure what has brought you to the city. Did something happen to the forest again? Do you need our help?”

The first (and also last) time they had met, Aether had helped her restore parts of the Apam Woods that had been dying. A disgraced scholar from the Akademiya had decided to continue her research there, and needless to say, her experiments had gone wayward, causing entire swathes of land to diminish and wither. Yuzurin had been on the brink of exhaustion holding the filth back when the Traveler had quite literally stumbled into her.

He’d later told her, after helping to drive the Withering away, that he had been attempting to locate three Nilotpala lotuses for a commission. Yuzurin had then helpfully pointed out that those elusive flowers grew nowhere close.

“Oh, no, no, the forest is doing fine, thanks to your help.” She gestures to the woven basket in her arms. “I’m in the City to deliver some flowers to the Birmarstan. There was an, er, incident with a whopperflower in one of their fields.”

Paimon’s face immediately scrunches up at that. “Oh yeah! And a real rude whopperflower it was too!” She shakes her tiny fists. “Stealing all the nutrients… and it even tore up the field it was growing in! Gurgen and Vargen had to spend days raking the damage over.”

“It was a commission from the Adventurers’ Guild,” the Traveler supplies helpfully when he sees the look of bewilderment on Yuzurin’s face. “Anyway, we’re here on an errand as well.” He nods upwards in the direction of the Divine Tree. “There’s some research we need to do regarding Tatarasuna, and the downfall of the Inazuman swordsmithing arts.”

Yuzurin bites her lip. Although she had preferred not to stray far from Chinju Forest back then, news of the black miasma of Tatarasuna had spread across all of the three islands. It had been terrifying news at the time, even with the warrior God Baal acting as the Raiden Shogun. After uprooting herself from Inazuma and leaving to venture Teyvat, however, the mystery of the Mikage Furnace’s collapse had never come to mind again.

Paimon turns to Yuzurin, as though struck by a similar thought. “Right! Yuzurin, you used to be from Inazuma, and you’re old — like, really old, right? Would you know anything about what happened to the Isshin Art? ”

“Paimon,” the Traveler begins, an admonishing tone in his voice, but Yuzurin waves him off with a quick laugh. “Oh, it’s alright, Traveler. She’s right — I am centuries old. Unfortunately, I don’t know much about the Isshin Art. Kirin are peaceful creatures by nature, and we don’t enjoy having anything to do with death or weaponry or war. I’m afraid I won’t be of much use in this regard.”

“It’s no problem—” The Traveler’s words suddenly falter mid-sentence, brows drawing together and his mouth drawing into a hard line. Yuzurin feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. As a Kirin, she can pick up on the sensation of danger better than most, and she has never seen the Traveler look so tense. Not even when he had been ambushed by a hoard of Fungi on his own.

She follows his line of vision just in time to see a dark veil swishing behind a large tree root, vanishing from sight. Frowning, Yuzurin takes a step closer. The patterns on that veil had seemed distinctively Inazuman, but it is not that that has captured her attention.

“He seems… familiar to me.”

“He what?” Yuzurin flinches back at the volume of Paimon’s exclamation, startled. The words had slipped from her mouth before she had run them through her mind, but surely just recognising someone shouldn’t warrant such a response.

“Paimon,” the Traveler says warningly, and the small fairy puts both hands over her mouth at once. “I’m sorry, Yuzurin,” she says, her words muffled by her palms. Something tells Yuzurin that this happens often.

“He can’t be up to any good here,” the Traveler says shortly, starting to walk in the direction the mysterious man had disappeared in. “It seems like he was headed to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Yuzurin, where do you remember seeing that man?”

She is a little confused by the sudden seriousness that seems to have settled over the atmosphere, but answers his question anyway. “When I first settled in Sumeru not long ago, some rumours about me being an auspicious creature spread among the natives. The Fatui caught wind of this, and one of the Harbingers sent men after me.”

The memory is enough to send a shiver through her, despite the warm and humid morning. She can still remember that day clearly in that mind, can still feel the phantom fear and terror crawling through her veins. The gods were truly smiling upon her when she managed to escape that day.

The Traveler frowns as the three of them continue to ascend the levels of the Divine Tree. “The Harbinger… was he the man that you saw earlier?”

“No.” Yuzurin shakes her head. “The Harbinger who was hunting me was a pale man with a masked face. I believe that his subordinates call him the… Doctor?”

Paimon makes a face at that, before flying over to pat at Yuzurin’s head gently. “Il Dottore is a terrible, awful, extremely bad man.” Paimon clarifies, looking as though she’d like nothing more than to bite off the man’s fingers. “He tried to capture the Aranara in the forest for experiments too!”

The Aranara had told her about that as well, the ones that affectionately call her by the name Rinara. Although they might be from different lands, the nature spirits of every region tend to see each other as kindred, and that goes for herself and the mysterious children of the forest.

“It’s fortunate that I was not captured,” Yuzurin tells the Traveler. “The man we saw earlier — the memories are not as fresh as they were yesterday, but I am very sure that he is the one who saved me. He saw me in the forest, when I was hiding from those Fatui, and turned a blind eye to my presence”

This time, the Traveler does not bother to chide his companion when she lets out a piercing “He what?” right by his ear. Instead, he looks at Yuzurin with a strange, contemplative expression on his face. “So the Balladeer did that, did he?”

“The Balladeer?” The title sits strangely on her tongue. The Balladeer. The word is unfamiliar to her, neither native to her homeland, nor Sumeru, nor any of the places that she had come across on her travels.

“The Balladeer, no, Scaramouche, no! Kunikuzushi—” Paimon vigorously gestures in the air, a noise of frustration leaving her mouth, “is the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers! The same organisation that the Doctor belongs to!”

Yuzurin blinks at that, surprised and confused and suddenly uncomfortable all at once. Kunikuzushi. That is undoubtedly a name of Inazuman origin. “You mean… the man we saw earlier, the one you call Balladeer,” her head aches suddenly, for some sort of strange, inexplicable reason, “he is working together with the Doctor?”

“Yes!” Paimon nods vigorously, but then pauses before proceeding to correct herself. “Well, was. They’ve had a little bit of a, uh, falling out recently.”

“The Balladeer left the Fatui,” the Traveler summarises shortly as they approach the Sanctuary of Surasthana. “Still, I wouldn’t recommend interacting with him — there’s a lot that we still don’t know about his motives.”

Although Yuzurin might not have known the Traveler for a very extended period of time, this much she knows: the Traveler is both a person and a judge of good character. As the saying goes, like recognises like. If the Traveler says to stay away from someone, Yuzurin should listen.

Still, as the two of them approach the entrance to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, she cannot shake the feeling of familiarity. Had she perhaps remembered wrongly? Or mistaken his face? But she shakes her head quickly, determined to dispel her doubts. Yuzurin is a Kirin, a species destined for immortality. She does not think that she would forget the face of her saviour so readily.

“Let’s enter.” The Traveler’s fingers flex, a telltale sign of any warrior ready to reach for their sword. The Balladeer must truly be a menace, if the sight of him causes the ever placid Traveler to resort to such measures. “Yuzurin, you should stay behind me. I heard from Yae Miko that Kirin are susceptible to blood and the like.”

So he knows. Truly, the Traveler is a kind person who is considerate of the people around him. Yuzurin nods and moves behind the Traveler. “Still,” she promises, “I will fight to the death if need be, to keep both of you safe. I assure you that I’m not simply a symbol of peace and fortune.” She holds out a hand, and her polearm materialises in it. The edge still shines as sharp as the day Susano had gifted it to her, centuries and centuries ago. “May the gods see this vow of mine.”

The Traveler looks surprised by the force of her determination, but smiles. “Then, I’ll be counting on you to watch my back, Yuzurin.”

“Paimon too! Paimon will, uhh, watch your heads!”

The Sanctuary of Surusthana is quiet when they enter. The interior is like nothing that Yuzurin has ever encountered before, a single swooping bridge linking them to a central area, shaped like the innermost bud of a flower. The air glows a faint green, imbued with a power that makes even the hairs on the back of Yuzurin’s neck prickle, her hidden antlers shift with a phantom itch.

“Traveler, Paimon.” Yuzurin looks up at the voice to see a short woman — no, a child — standing before them. Her hair is white as the petals, her eyes as green as forests, the curve of her smile lovely and gentle. Those verdant eyes settle on Yuzurin as she speaks. “You have brought a friend with you today.”

At the sound of her voice, the Dendro vision attached to her belt responds, heat radiating off it through the fabric of her clothes. Yuzurin instantly knows just who is standing before her. She might not bear the same ethereal elegance as Makoto or wield oppressive dominance like Ei, but her voice is aged and warm all at once with a gentle wisdom that seems to speak straight into her soul.

“Lesser Lord Kusanali.” Yuzurin’s tongue nearly fumbles over the words, a mixture of nerves and unfamiliarity. Although it has been some time since she had come to settle down in Sumeru, this is her first time meeting its Archon face to face. She automatically drops into a formal greeting, bending down so that her face is parallel with the ground. “It is a great honour to meet the Blessed One of Wisdom, Mahakusaladhamma, in person.”

“Blessed One of Wisdom, what?” Paimon shakes her head vigorously before turning to the Dendro Archon. “Now’s no time for stuffy introductions. Nahida, we just saw the Balladeer, strolling around in public!” Yuzurin frowns. Nahida? “Did he escape? Or did he— ah!”

Yuzurin’s body responds to Paimon’s exclamation of panic, stepping forward so that she is squarely placed between Paimon and the threat. And when she looks up, she sees herself staring up into a pair of familiar yet unfamiliar eyes — eyes that she would never forget.

For a second, she’s transported back to that terrifying moment in the forest. The rain was falling hard, each droplet striking her skin like iron bullets. She had crashed through the undergrowth of the Ardravi Valley, praying desperately to the gods above that the rain would wash away the trail of blood she was leaving behind. And when her eyes had met that cold blue gaze amidst the downpour, she had believed herself at the end of her life — until his stare had slid over her and he’d continued on his path, as easily as the wind glancing past her cheek.

He had seen her that day, Yuzurin is sure of that. And today as well, his eyes widen ever so slightly in recognition before they melt into that cool, disinterested gaze once again. As though he had never once seen her at all.

“What are you doing in the Sanctuary of Surasthana!?” Paimon cries, shaking an accusing finger at the man. “Aren’t you supposed to be locked up?” Next to her, the Traveler holds out a hand — and his sword materialises in his grip. Yuzurin recognises that gaze, the intent. He’s ready to clash blades.

Yuzurin takes a step back, unease and anxiety running through her. She feels as though she has stepped into the middle of a situation she doesn’t quite understand, one that is escalating far too quickly for her liking. Fortunately, Lesser Lord Kusanali puts a stop to things before they can spiral out of control.

“I know you must have a lot of questions. Please, allow me to answer them. Peacefully,” she says this with a meaningful look in the Traveler’s direction, and after a moment he gives in, straightening up and letting his weapon disappear.

The Dendro Archon then turns to Yuzurin. “Apologies for the confusion. There’s no need to be scared — no one here will harm you.” She glances over the two parties in the sanctuary before returning her gaze to Yuzurin. “Still, I’m afraid that I must ask you to excuse us. There is some important business that I have with the Balladeer and the Traveler that must be attended to.”

Yuzurin glances over at the Traveler, and he nods reassuringly. “We’ll be alright,” he promises. “I’ll come visit you in the forest once we’re done here.”

Well, it’s not quite like she can defy the request of an Archon, so she takes a hesitant step back. “Then, I’ll be waiting.” Her gaze meets the Balladeer’s once more, and she takes another step back before turning around.

The second she leaves the Sanctuary, the immense pressure on her shoulders lifts at once. As expected, the presence of an Archon and two extraordinarily powerful characters in a single room, coupled with all that tension, was far too much for her to handle. Yuzurin doesn’t know what to make of this Balladeer that she’d just met, but the Traveler did promise to look for her after their business was concluded, so Yuzurin will believe in him for now.

She has almost made her way out of Sumeru City, the encounter still playing and replaying itself in her mind, when she realises that her arms are still filled with roses that she has yet to deliver.

>>>

Hours later in the Avidya Forest, Yuzurin is still unable to get the interaction out of her mind, even when she tries to distract herself with cultivating the Nilotpala lotuses in the lake. Usually, standing knee deep in the cool waters tends to clear her mind no matter how muddled it may be, but today it just doesn’t seem to be working like it always does.

Her mind keeps returning to that encounter. The open hostility he was wearing, that cold stare, the near overwhelming animosity between him and the Traveler… Yuzurin can’t get it out of her mind. Leaning down, she absentmindedly brushes Dendro energy over a lotus — and startles backwards when the bright blue petals burst open to reveal a golden core. She quickly coaxes it back into closing (they aren’t supposed to bloom in the day, after all), shaking her head. She really needs to clear her mind of… of…

…Of what?

Yuzurin pauses, her fingertips lingering on the flower petals. She can feel her face scrunching up instinctively in confusion. “What— what was I thinking about?”

Try as she might, she cannot recall exactly what had been on her mind — it feels like a dream that has disappeared with the coming of the morning light, smoke slipping between her outstretched fingers. She continues about her day with a strange feeling of emptiness hanging over her head, and when the sun finally begins to set behind the clouds, Yuzurin decides to set out to search for someone she can talk to about it.

The Aranara Arayash is standing at his usual post next to the Statue of Seven when Yuzurin reaches New Vanarana. Not many are able to pass through the veil to reach the Home of the Aranara, but as fellow nature spirits, the Aranara have always been welcoming, even to a foreigner such as herself.

“Nara Rinara,” Arayash looks up as Yuzurin approaches. He looks the same, green and tough and protective, with the exception of the club he keeps in his right hand. Maybe he’s changed the rock out for a new one.

“Still standing guard here, Arayash?” Yuzurin smiles. It’s a silly question, since the answer never changes, but Yuzurin likes that. It’s a little ritual of sorts, between the two of them.

“This is the stone of the Lord of Trees and the Lord of Dendro! It's very important!” Arayash nods his head determinedly. “Are you here to see Arapacati?”

Yuzurin shakes her head. “Not Arapacati specifically, no. I just wanted to speak to someone about something.” At that, Arayash glances around for a second, as though checking for any dangers nearby, before putting his club down.

“Arayash is here.” He tells Yuzurin seriously. “Does Nara Rinara want to speak?”

At his blunt question, Yuzurin smiles. Although Arayash is often curt with his words, his heart is pure and clean, as are all the Aranara’s. “Thank you, Arayash.” She moves to sit cross legged in front of him, allowing her antlers to slip out. A groan of relief escapes her when she does. Hiding her true form isn’t painful, but it does get tiring after a while.

“Have you ever felt,” Yuzurin begins, “as though a memory has been taken from you?”

Arayash’s expression doesn’t change, but Yuzurin has known him long enough to know that he is carefully thinking through her question. “The loss of memory is common for Nara.” Arayash tells her after a while, his voice matter-of-fact. “Most Nara lose their dreams when they become big Nara. Big Nara forget their memories as small Nara.”

“No, not over a period of time.” Yuzurin bites her lower lip, glancing up at the sky. Night has fallen and the sky is cloudless. New Vanarana is now illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. “I meant, all of a sudden, for an immortal species such as myself. That’s not normal, is it?”

Arayash shakes his head. “Long-life creatures like the Aranara do not lose their memories unless they return them to Sarva or become Vasara Trees.” He glances at Yuzurin. “I do not know if it is similar, for the Kirin.”

Yuzurin sighs. The Aranara are some of the most knowledgeable when it comes to the subject of dreams, memories and such. Only the Avatar of the Irminsul herself, Lesser Lord Kusanali, could claim to understand this topic more intimately. If even the Aranara do not know, then it cannot be helped.

“I am sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault.” Yuzurin tells him at once. Arayash looks at her for a while more before reaching over to pick up his club once more.

“I cannot help with Nara Rinara’s memory,” Arayash says, pointing down the little dirt path leading deeper into Vanarana. “But Arayash’s fellow Aranara can make Nara Rinara feel better. Arapacati spoke of cooking training with her brothers earlier, dishes they learnt from Nara Varuna. Nara Rinara should speak to them, before they argue and Arapacati kicks them out of Vanarana again.”

Yuzurin laughs at that as she gets to her feet. She still remembers the day that Arapacati had come to her, telling her of how she had thrown Arasaka, Araphalas, Arapas and Arachatora out of Vanarana. “Is that so? I should get there quickly before Arasaka burns down their house again.”

Arayash nods seriously. “Yes. Nara Rinara is not scared of fire, like the Aranara are.”

Smiling, Yuzurin begins to start down the path. While her problem might not be solved just yet, her heart feels lighter already. “Thank you, Arayash!”

“Goodbye, Nara Rinara. The Lord of Trees and Lord of Dendro will watch over you.”

>>>

After that talk with Arayash, Yuzurin has decided to put the unsettling feeling of forgetfulness out of her mind to focus on other things that need her more direct attention. One, for example, being the moving of Dendro infused Sumeru roses that she has been growing. The rainforest gets high levels of precipitation all year round, but after the strange lightning storm that happened a few weeks back, the weather has been difficult for even a nature spirit such as Yuzurin to predict.

Today, Yuzurin hurries to the lower levels of the Devantaka mountains, where she’d left her roses growing. The downpour is heavier than usual, and Yuzurin must move the flowers to a drier spot before they soak up too much water and render all her careful cultivation fruitless. From the looks of it, the rain might even leave the lower valleys of the forest flooded. She needs to be quick.

She makes her way down into the valley under the watchful eye of the fallen Ruin Guard, holding a waxed-paper umbrella over her head and a woven basket in her other hand. The Sumeru roses sit in the little plot of land that she had dug for them, their vibrant violet-pink petals drooping under the weight of the excess water.

“Sorry for being late,” Yuzurin mutters to them as soon as she reaches the plot. “I’ll get all of you to a drier spot right away.”

She ends up being so absorbed with her task that she doesn’t hear the sound of someone approaching. It is already too late when her sensitive ears pick up the sound of the footsteps — unsteady footfalls of a person trudging through the vegetation. Yuzurin immediately stiffens up, suspicious. Who would be wandering about in a downpour as heavy as this?

The answer to that question stumbles out of the treeline just a moment later.

Their eyes meet through the pouring rain — surprise mirrored in each others’ gazes. The stranger appears to be a young man at first glance, short and slender and wearing a disproportionately large wide-brimmed hat on his head.

Yuzurin shrinks back from him instinctively. Although Sumeru has been relatively peaceful to her, there is always an odd researcher or two every century, who hears of the Auspicious Doe of the Forest and becomes obsessed with the idea of capturing good fortune. Not to mention her encounter with that terrifying ‘Doctor’ all those years ago… She glances up at him once more, goosebumps prickling over her skin.

And he’s backing away from her, blue eyes wide with what seems to be approaching terror from under his hat. Yuzurin glances down at herself, confused, then startles in realisation. She’s still in her yokai form, with antlers growing out of her head and her eyes glowing white in the gloom. Forget about being scared — she’s the terrifying one here!

“There’s no need to be afraid—” she tries to say and abruptly stops when her voice echoes throughout the trees in that unnatural, intimidating tone. Shaking her head, she wills her antlers to disappear from sight and her eyes lose their usual glow. Hopefully she appears more humanlike and less frightening now. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I don’t mean any harm.” She holds up her dirty hands, stained with mud and chlorophyll, to prove her point.

The young man grips the brim of his hat tightly, glancing between her and the path he’d come from, as though contemplating fleeing. He really shouldn’t, if he knows what’s good for him. The Devantaka Valley tends to turn muddy and slippery when the rains get too heavy, and if he is unfamiliar with the roads, he could very well slip and injure himself — or worse still, hit his head.

What if a Fungi got to him? Or the Spinocrocodiles? Or worse yet, the Rishboland tigers? While they are friendly with Yuzurin, due to her being a nature spirit, she cannot say the same for this… human. While he does appear human, there is a strange dissonance in Yuzurin’s mind every time she looks at him. He looks far too beautiful in an… unnatural sort of way, as though a master artisan had taken the time to delicately carve his features, mould his form and smooth out every imperfection.

Too perfect, and that’s putting it lightly.

Still, that’s no excuse to leave someone in the forest alone and afraid in the pouring rain. “Are you okay?” she calls out to him, careful to keep her voice soothing so as to not startle him. “Why are you out in a storm like this? Do you have any shelter?”

The young man just looks at her, the beautiful blue silks of his clothes drenched by the rain. He shifts tentatively from one foot to the other, before he slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know…” He pauses to grip the gold ornament hanging from his left shoulder tightly before he continues answering. “No. I, um, I don’t have shelter.”

His voice is soft and mild, and a little timid. There’s almost a sort of shy childlike innocence to it, in the way that he speaks. A surge of protectiveness wells up in Yuzurin. She’s going to take care of him!

“I know that the two of us don’t know each other, but I can’t leave you out here in the rain like this,” Yuzurin tells him, concerned. “There are wild predators out here in the forest and the rain can make the ground dangerous. If you come with me, I can guide you to a safe place where you can take shelter from the rain.”

The young man fiddles with the brim of his hat, clearly nervous as he contemplates her words, but eventually nods. “Thank you,” he says hesitantly. Every expression is so clearly displayed across his face that even her normally oblivious self can read him like an open book. Yuzurin does not think that he is a threat.

“Give me a second,” she tells him, turning around to continue digging up her roses carefully. “I need to move these plants somewhere else, so…”

A pair of porcelain white hands appear next to hers. “I’ll help as well,” the young man tells her, eyes shifting around awkwardly, when Yuzurin glances up at him in surprise. “You are offering to help me… so it is only fair I do the same in return.”

Yuzurin blinks, before a smile crosses her face. “You are a very kind person,” she tells him, and he drops his gaze to the ground, shy. Still, his help is welcome — an additional pair of hands would make her work go faster, and the quicker they complete this, the quicker they can get out of the pouring rain. “Then, if you wouldn’t mind… Could you help me put the uprooted flowers in that basket over there? Be very gentle with them!”

He looks unsure, but nods. “Leave it to me.”

Although the young stranger started out clumsy, he turns out to be a fast learner. The work of moving all the cultivated Sumeru Roses into a basket is done in half the time that Yuzurin had expected. Now, the two of them make their way up a mountain path that Yuzurin is familiar with, the basket in her arms and the umbrella held over her head by the stranger.

“Where are we going?” The stranger asks her as they walk, careful to hold the umbrella over her head. She’d tried to insist that he cover himself better, but he’d explained that his hat was sufficient protection from the rain. He must have a nice soul, she thinks.

“I have a friend called Ararycan who has a house somewhere in the area,” Yuzurin explains as they push through the rain. “We should be reaching any moment now… ah, we’re here.”

Just as most Aranara residences are, the house that they are approaching is distinctively small, round in shape and also very, very empty. Still, Yuzurin heads right up to the circular entrance at the front, calling out, “Ararycan! Ararycan, are you home?”

The stranger is glancing around, as though trying to find just who would live in such a tiny house, when Yuzurin catches a peep of light blue vanishing behind a tree. If Yuzurin didn’t know any better, she would have thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her, but the Aranaras are masters of going unnoticed when they don’t want to be seen.

And they usually don’t want to be seen by grown adults, especially ones that they don’t know or trust.

“Ararycan!” She takes another step forward. “We’ve come to take shelter from the storm! Don’t worry about him, he’s a nice person.”

There’s silence for a few more moments, before a blue, hatted figure appears. The young man next to her takes a step back at the sight of the unfamiliar creature, presumably startled. Ararycan, too, mirrors his actions, taking several tentative steps back so that Yuzurin is planted safely between the two of them.

“Ararycan, safe with Nara Rinara,” Ararycan ducks behind Yuzurin’s leg, clearly skittish. “Nara Rinara brought a strange Nara to Ararycan’s house. Why?”

“He’s not a strange Nara,” Yuzurin soothes, reaching out behind her to take Ararycan’s tiny blue hand in hers. She gestures for the young man to take a step closer and he does, tentatively. Now that they’re standing next to each other, Yuzurin can’t help but notice how similar the two of them look, blue hats and all. “This is Ararycan, an Aranara of the forest. Ararycan, this is…” She looks at the young man, at Ararycan, then back at him. “I, uhh, didn’t get his name.”

Ararycan clutches onto her hand tighter. “Nara Rinara is kind and trusts easily. But not careful.”

Her cheeks heat, but well, Ararycan isn’t wrong. “Well, we were in a rush for time earlier and— oh, how about you introduce yourself now to the both of us?”

The young man stands there, still looking awkward under the weight of two stares in that too large hat as he grips the umbrella tightly in his hands. “Well, I, um. I would introduce myself if I could but I, uhh, don’t have one.”

Ararycan tilts his head. “Strange Nara doesn’t have an introduction?”

“No, a name.”

Yuzurin stares at the young stranger in confusion. How is it possible for someone to not have a name, especially at an age such as this. When he sees the expression that she’s wearing, he explains. “I have been a wanderer for as long as I can — I suppose that no one has ever given me a name, and it never did occur to me that I needed one.”

The three of them look at each other, and Yuzurin feels both a little sad and guilty for having to bring up such a question. For someone to have never given him a name… that must have meant that he didn’t grow up around family or friends.

“Well, how about we call you by a nickname—” Yuzurin begins, just as the young man says, “You could give me a name.”

That statement leaves Yuzurin flustered. “I can’t possibly do something as… important as that! A name is something that’s valuable and precious!”

The young man shrugs. “It’s not that important to me,” he says honestly, meeting her eyes. “I’d like you to name me, if it’s not too much of a burden for you.”

“No, it’s not a burden…” Yuzurin bites her lips. This wasn’t exactly how she thought her day would go. “You are… sure that you’re alright with me naming you?” He nods, and Yuzurin wants to crumple under the responsibility that he has just set on her shoulders.

Yuzurin stares at the young man for a while, trying to come up with a suitable name. It is a huge responsibility for her, to have to decide on a name for someone.

First of all, he appears to be Inazuman in origin — Yuzurin’s homeland. Second, he’s beautiful, really beautiful. Yuzurin, for a moment, even thinks that she might see a resemblance to the first god that she had ever sworn allegiance to. There is just something about him that reminds her of Makoto’s gentle grace and timelessness when she looks at him. And lastly, well… he seems nice. Sweet.

“How about the name Kuni,” Yuzurin says slowly. “It means benevolent prince in Inazuman, and I think it rolls nicely off the tongue.” She glances up, tentative, not sure if he’ll like it. However, what she sees surprises her.

“Benevolent prince?” The young man rubs at the back of his neck, an unmistakably bashful expression forming on his face. “That is far too generous a way to refer to me by…”

“It’s not! I think it suits you very well!” Yuzurin insists. Before the stranger can say a word more, Ararycan steps in, glancing up at him.

“Nara Kuni and Nara Rinara.” Ararycan nods seriously, before pointing them over to the little shelter next to the Aranara house. The stranger — well, Kuni now, she supposes — cracks a small smile at that, looking at her as though to say I guess it’s been decided now. “Go under the big leaves and wait there. Ararycan will find leaves to make the two of you dry.”

The two of them are ushered into shelter, sitting at the wooden table that Ararycan had put together for Yuzurin — she’s too big to fit comfortably into his Aranara house, as most people are. Kuni watches Ararycan disappear into it with fascination shining in his eyes.

“His name is Ararycan, you said?” Kuni asks suddenly as Yuzurin is wringing water out of her socks. “He is very… hospitable and welcoming, even to a stranger such as myself. I have never seen any creature like him, even during my travels in Sumeru.”

“He’s an Aranara. They’re a race of forest spirits created by the Dendro Archon,” Yuzurin smiles fondly in Ararycan’s direction, before turning to Kuni. “I’m surprised that you could see him, actually. The Aranara can keep themselves hidden from those that they don’t want to be found by. Usually only children can see them, but they tend to lose this ability once they grow up.”

“Is that so?” Kuni glances in the direction of the Aranara house. “I must be very fortunate to be able to see him then. Are there more like him?”

“Plenty more,” Yuzurin nods, absentmindedly swinging her legs beneath her. “I’ll introduce them all to you, if you want to meet them.” His eyes shine, and he looks down, presumably awkward, but Yuzurin catches sight of the upward curve of his mouth.

And she can’t help thinking just how lovely he looks when he smiles like that. He should smile more, she thinks.

“I’m looking forward to it, then.”

>>>

Yuzurin makes good on her promise a few days later. After the rain stops, Ararycan and the two of them head across the wet, grassy fields to New Vanarana. Some of the rivers have swollen over and spilled onto their banks with the extended downpour, but Kuni easily picks Yuzurin up and carries her over the rushing rivers to the other bank safely, before rubbing his neck shyly when Yuzurin thanks him gratefully.

At times, Yuzurin wanders off to look at some pretty Kalpalata Lotuses growing on the side of a cliff, or to pick some Zaytun Peaches to eat. With Ararycan and Kuni’s help, Yuzurin manages to make some Selva Salad — something that Kuni seemed to be pleasantly surprised by. He even asks for seconds, and offers to search for more fruits to make another helping.

Yuzurin watches him and Ararycan go, the two chatting pleasantly with one another, smiling. They seem to be getting along well.

At night, the three of them build a fire on a small hill — well, the two of them, considering that Ararycan is terrified of even the smallest flame — and sit around it. Ararycan alternates between hiding inside Yuzurin’s large sleeves and taking shelter behind Kuni’s large, ornamental hat. After a while of Yuzurin and Kuni reassuring the Aranara that the fire will not suddenly leap out and consume him, Ararycan finally takes a seat a safe distance away to share in warm, flickering light.

The moon is high in the sky when the fire finally begins to die down. Lulled into a relaxed mood by the chatter, the food and the fire, Yuzurin doesn’t even notice that she’s let her true form show until Kuni points it out.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Yuzurin exclaims, rushing to hide her crimson antlers. She remembers how frightened Kuni had been when the two of them had first run into each other. “Let me just—”

“There’s no need to.” Kuni halts her with a hand on the forearm. “I am not bothered by it. In fact,” his eyes tilt up, his gaze travelling over the sprawling antlers atop her head, before returning to meet her glowing white eyes, “I am… happy, that you feel safe enough to assume your true form around me. Besides,” he lets out a quiet cough, ducking his head, “you are very beautiful like this.”

Yuzurin blinks at that, surprised by that statement. There’s a heat spreading across her cheeks, and she instantly ducks her head as well. “I, uhm, thank you,” she says, suddenly feeling very shy. “Then, I’ll keep my antlers out if you don’t mind.”

Ararycan has disappeared to look for something in the nearby forest, and the two of them are left to sit by the dying fire in peaceful silence. It’s calming, to simply sit and listen to the occasional crackle or pop and the sounds of the forest coming alive at night.

The tranquillity, however, is suddenly interrupted by a low, rolling growl. Yuzurin sits up in alarm, glancing about for the source, but Kuni is one step faster. He’s on his feet before Yuzurin can even spot the intruder, and Yuzurin finds herself staring at his back as he stands down the Rishboland Tiger who has interrupted their calm night.

The tiger lets out a snarl at the perceived threat, its hackles rising. Kun’s eyes narrow in turn.

“I need you to back off,” he says, but the tiger only growls again and takes a step closer. Yuzurin doesn’t know why Kuni thinks that he could take on a full grown beast of the forest, but she hops between the two of them before the situation can go sideways, one hand on Kuni’s wrist and the other held out to the Rishboland Tiger.

“Calm down, it’s alright,” Yuzurin soothes. Her words are directed to both Kuni and the Rishboland Tiger. She turns to the Rishboland Tiger. “He’s not gonna hurt you, alright? We were just startled. Is this your territory? I’m sorry for intruding on it.”

She sees Kuni glancing at her, confused and a little incredulous, but he eventually gives in. The Rishboland Tiger, after seeing the threat disappear, eventually lowers its tail. It takes a slow step towards them, and then another… before flopping onto the grass and letting out a great, big purr.

Yuzurin glances at Kuni to say, look, it’s harmless, before she reaches out and begins to run a hand through its thick, soft fur.

“Rishboland tigers are usually very territorial, so they tend to attack anyone who intrudes upon their territory,” Yuzurin explains to Kuni, who’s staring the large cat down as Yuzurin continues to work her fingers through the thick fur. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Taking it personally was the last thing on my mind, to be perfectly honest,” Kuni tells her, eyes still fixed on that mouth full of sharp fangs. Still, he does sit down next to her, watching carefully as the Rishboland Tiger butts its head into Yuzurin’s palm, looking for scratches. Yuzurin obliges, of course. “Most of my encounters with the Sumerian wildlife haven’t ended as peacefully as this one, unfortunately. But they seem to listen to you.”

Yuzurin blinks, looking down at the Rishboland Tiger. It’s now moved its head to Yuzurin’s lap, like a large, lazy house cat. “Is that so? I’ve never really thought about it, actually.”

“Perhaps it’s because you are a nature spirit of some sort,” Kuni suggests. Yuzurin thinks for a bit, before she turns to Kuni.

“How about you try patting it?” she suggests. Kuni’s eyes widen, and he looks down at the tiger, doubt pulling his lips into a slight frown.

“I would prefer to keep all ten of my fingers, if possible.”

“He’s not going to bite you, I promise.” Yuzurin reaches out to grasp Kuni’s hand in hers gently. When their fingers brush, Yuzurin is mildly surprised by how cool his hand is to the touch, his skin porcelain smooth. Kuni looks a little sceptical, but allows his hand to be tugged over to the Rishboland Tiger. Man and beast eye each other warily for a few moments, until Kuni finally, slowly, tentatively rests his hand on its ruff.

The Rishboland Tiger’s mouth widens, and for a moment Yuzurin wonders if things are about to go south very quickly, but it only yawns and stretches out its front legs, content to bask in the attention. She breathes a silent sigh of relief and sends a prayer of thanks to the Dendro Archon.

“It seems that he likes you,” Yuzurin comments. Kuni lets out a quiet laugh under his breath, running his fingers through the beast’s thick ruff.

“I’m not sure about that,” he says, but he sounds pleased when the tiger purrs, a rolling rumble deep in its chest that vibrates pleasantly against Yuzurin’s side. She leans back, stretching out her legs, and gazes up at the moon in the sky. The fireflies dance in the night and the night air is warm against her skin.

Yuzurin thinks that she could spend many more nights like this.

>>>

They reach New Vanarana before the sun begins to set. Arayash, as usual, is standing guard by the Dendro Archon’s Statue of the Seven, and he straightens up the second he sees them arriving.

“Ararycan, Nara Rinara.” His eyes settle on the person walking between the two of them, and Yuzurin watches in alarm as he tightens his hold on his club. “Strange Nara.”

“This is Nara Kuni,” Ararycan explains, before things can escalate. “He is a friend of Nara Rinara. And friend of Ararycan.”

“Kuni, this is Arayash,” Yuzurin introduces him to the guard Aranara tentatively. “Arayash, this is Kuni — Nara Kuni, I suppose. He’s a friend of ours. We’re bringing him to see Vanarana, and meet the other Aranaras.”

Arayash continues to stare at Kuni, before he lowers his club slightly. He doesn’t put it down, however. “Nara Kuni feels… strange,” Arayash says bluntly. “Nara Kuni looks but… does not feel… like Nara. Not like Nara Varuna, or the Golden Nara. Also not like Nara Rinara.”

Yuzurin glances at Kuni in a mixture of concern and surprise. She, too, had thought that Kuni didn’t quite… feel completely human, but she’d kept that to herself. So, it seems that it is not just her who felt that way.

When she looks at Kuni, however, he does not seem very fazed by Arayash’s comment. “I can stay outside, if it would make you feel better,” he begins to say, but then Ararycan steps in front of him, shaking his head.

“Nara Kuni is Ararycan’s friend,” Ararycan repeats, more firmly this time. He gestures to a small, blue flower pinned to his chest that Yuzurin hadn’t noticed before. Had Kuni given that to him? “It does not matter that Nara Kuni does not feel like Nara. All Nara are different, but Nara Kuni is kind.”

Arayash looks between Ararycan and Kuni, before finally lowering his club. “If that is what Ararycan says.” He waves them in.

“I wasn’t expecting him to say that to you,” Yuzurin whispers to Kuni as the two of them follow Ararycan through Vanarana. The sky has turned a deep indigo, and the fireflies are out, tiny lights dancing through the cool night air. Although it is a beautiful sight that has never failed to take Yuzurin’s breath away, she’s more concerned with Kuni right now. “Are you alright?”

Kuni nods. “I am not… surprised, that he thought that way about me,” he says mildly, looking up at where a pocket of sky peers through the leaves. He seems… lost in thought, awash in a sea of memories. “During my travels, many who came across me have made similar remarks. It does not bother me, since I have gotten used to it.”

“That doesn’t sound like something you should have to get to,” Yuzurin argues, shaking her head. But Kuni only smiles.

“Still, I was happy… to hear that you and Ararycan consider me your friend,” he says, turning to look at her. For some reason she can’t explain, Yuzurin’s breath catches in her throat when Kuni’s deep blue eyes meet hers. “We’ve only known each other for a few days, but I am glad that you see me as such.”

How can he say such things with a straight face? Yuzurin licks her lips, all of a sudden far too aware of how dry and chapped they are. The sun must be too hot. She tugs at the sleeves of her shirt. Her hands don’t have anything to do. Her heart is racing too quickly for her liking.

“Ah ha ha.” Her laughter sounds awkward and stilted even to her own ears, and she cringes at the sound of it. Divert! Divert the topic! “You say that, but you gave a flower to Ararycan and not me? I’m hurt, Kuni.”

Yuzurin had meant that as a joke, but Kuni looks alarmed at her words. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I promise,” he rushes to say, stepping closer so that the tips of their noses are almost touching. Yuzurin’s mouth goes uncomfortably dry at how close the two of them are. Kuni, however, doesn’t seem to be aware of it as he continues to ramble. “I found a kalpalata lotus while you were looking for fruits this morning and the colour of it reminded me of Ararycan. I heard that Aranaras give and receive flowers as symbols of friendship, so I gave it to him—”

“It’s alright—”

“I’ll give you one as well! I wanted to find a flower for you as well, but I haven’t yet come across one that suits you—”

“Kuni,” Yuzurin cuts in before he can continue. He stops mid-sentence, glancing up at her. “I was just teasing you.”

His shoulders sag. “You were just teasing me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Thank goodness,” he murmurs, shaking his head. The bells attached to his hat jingle as they sway with the movement. “I was worried for a moment, there…”

“Apologies,” Yuzurin laughs awkwardly, scratching at one of her antlers. He is still far too close, and her heart is still racing far too fast. “I’m not very good at making jokes…”

The laugh that escapes Kuni is a sheepish, embarrassed sound. “And I’m not very good at picking up on them, it seems.” He smiles at her, and Yuzurin drops her gaze to the ground, suddenly shy for no reason at all. “Still, I do promise to find a flower that suits you.” His gaze travels across her face, before he meets her eyes earnestly. “One that is as beautiful as you are.”

If Yuzurin’s heart had quickened like a galloping horse earlier, now it feels as though the organ has stopped beating in her chest entirely. A sumpter beast of emotions is crashing its way between her ribs and she’s sure that her entire face is red.

Fortunately, she is saved from having to formulate a coherent reply by Ararycan. “Nara Rinara, Nara Kuni,” the two of them glance up to see Ararycan already standing a significant distance away, “you must catch up before Ararycan leaves you behind!”

“Apologies, Ararycan,” Kuni calls in response before he turns back to Yuzurin, a smile on his face. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Her heart is still beating too fast and not fast enough, but Yuzurin manages a smile and nods. “Wouldn’t want to keep Ararycan waiting, would we?”

Kuni’s smile widens, and Yuzurin thinks, as the two of them race to catch up with the blue Aranara, that her heart might be in danger.

>>>

They find the Balladeer looking at fruits, of all things, when Aether and Paimon stumble across him in the markets of Sumeru City. For a moment, Aether almost thinks that he’s caught a glimpse of a ghost — with the tragic life of the Sixth Fatui Harbinger erased, there is no reason for his present incarnation to turn up in Sumeru — but when he takes a second look, it only makes him more sure of it.

He would never mistake the haunting jingle of those bells.

This incarnation of the Balladeer is dressed in shades of pale and deep blue, unlike his previous self, but retains the same ostentatious hat. Aether could identify him in a sea of people in a heartbeat. But during their last encounter, the Harbinger had chosen to erase himself from the record of Teyvat…

Right! Greater Lord Rukkhadevata had said it herself — no one can erase themselves from existence, not even her. And if the Avatar of the Irminsul herself had to create Lesser Lord Kusanali to do it for her, a kabukimono like the Balladeer cannot possibly…

Aether takes a step closer.

The man is standing in front of a stall, head lowered. And there’s a look of deep concentration on his face as he picks up a bright pink fruit — Redcrest, the desert fruit that grows on cacti — studying it carefully before setting it back down. There’s a basket hanging from the crook of his arm, half-filled with other types of produce.

Next, he picks up a stalk of mourning flower — a plant with dull pink blossoms that can only be found in the Girdle of Sands. He looks at the flower in his hand intently, turning it over to study it from several more angles, before he hands it to the store owner. It seems as though he’s purchasing it.

Now, Aether really finds himself at a loss as to what is going on.

“Traveler, what are you doing?” Paimon flies into his field of vision, blocking off the kabukimono. “Why are you staring at that stall? Do you want some redcrest fruits? We can just get them from the desert, can’t we?”

“Wait.” Aether gently tugs Paimon out of the way, but it is too late. The Balladeer incarnation has already left the stall, and when Aether glances around the marketplace, sees a swish of blue vanishing into one of the many root passages. “Come with me, Paimon,” he says, feet already beginning to move. “Quick!”

“You’re being weird again,” Paimon complains, but goes along with him anyway.

The two of them catch up with the hatted figure at the gates of Sumeru City. He’s standing at the side of the path, busy going through his basket. Aether takes a step closer to him, and another, and another, and—

“You two over there, is there something I can help you with?”

“Aah!” Paimon ducks behind Aether. “He’s spotted us! I told you that this is a bad idea!”

She didn’t, but Aether decides not to bring that up.

“You’ve been following me all the way from the city, I’d have to be blind not to notice.” This Balladeer incarnation crosses his arms over his chest, and Aether’s hand instinctively reaches for his sword. He just manages to stop himself, however. This is not the Sixth Harbinger, and not the Balladeer. Although he doesn’t seem too pleased with being followed, he seems more uncomfortable rather than hostile. It’s jarring, to see such a mild expression on the Balladeer’s too perfect face.

He decides to be honest. “You’re right, we were following you,” Aether says. The Balladeer’s brows pinch, presumably confused by his honest admission.

“Uhm,” he sounds more curious now, “have we met before?”

Aether shakes his head. “We haven’t. But I know you. It’s complicated, but I do know you.” The man purses his lips at that, frowning, before he shakes his head.

“I have no recollection of that at all,” he murmurs, although Aether doesn’t know whether it’s meant for his own ears or not. “Sorry, but I can’t just take your word for it. We’ve never met each other before, and while I don’t wish to offend, you might have dishonest intentions towards me…”

It’s throwing Aether off, to see the likeness of the Sixth Harbinger — the man who had betrayed his own homeland to the Fatui, who had willingly participated in a nefarious scheme to create a man-made god — speak so innocently. Scaramouche would never have cared about offense.

“Yeah, are you sure we got the right person?” Paimon chimes in. There’s doubt written all over her face. “Paimon thinks she would remember meeting a guy like this!”

Aether turns back to the man. “You’re a puppet, aren’t you?” he says bluntly.

When the man’s eyes go wide, Aether instantly knows that he’s got it right. Nothing at first glance would indicate that he’s anything but human, but he’s a puppet created by the Electro Archon, after all. The man presses his hand to his forehead, a deep sigh leaving him.

“It seems that you do know me, after all. That’s not something I share with a lot of people.” He looks up, brows drawn together in a look of resignation. “Since you’ve gone to all this trouble to track me down, I suppose that whatever you need me for must be important.”

“You need to come with us,” Aether tells him. The man is quiet for a moment, his eyes straying to his basket. His gaze falls on the mourning flower, amidst the fresh produce, before it returns to Aether once more.

“I will be free to go afterwards, won’t I?”

“You will,” Aether promises. While Scaramouche — the one of the past — might have committed many unforgivable crimes, it’s not fair to hold the current incarnation of him responsible for them. The man takes a deep breath, and then sighs.

“Lead the way then,” he says.

>>>

“Is Kuni still not back yet?”

Yuzurin stands at the Statue of Seven overlooking the path to Vanarana, arms folded across her chest. She tries to resist the urge to pace — Arayash has a bit of a pet peeve when people step on the grass — but the worry is becoming a little unbearable.

Kuni can take care of himself, Yuzurin is quite sure of that, but that doesn’t stop her from being concerned. Earlier in the day, he had volunteered to run an errand for some of the Aranara to pick up certain desert fruits from the bazaar in Sumeru City. He had set off with his basket and promised to return by evening time — and now, it is already nightfall.

“Nara Rinara seems to always be worried about Nara Kuni.” Yuzurin whirls around to see Arayash standing behind her, his expression as flat and unamused as usual. “Nara Rinara likes Nara Kuni too much.”

Embarrassed, Yuzurin goes to deny that at once — but then stops. It feels… too dishonest to say otherwise, and it’s not in her nature to lie. Instead, she takes a seat next to Arayash, her knees tucked up to her chest and her voice small as she says, “and if I do?”

Arayash does not respond for a while, and Yuzurin is about to get up and start pacing once more when she suddenly hears him say, “he’ll come back soon.”

Yuzurin is thankful for his reassurance, but she is also quite sure that her entire face is red now. He’s not subtle at all! Still, she nods quietly, and returns to watching the path once more.

“Thank you, Arayash.”

She waits a day, and then a week, and when two weeks have passed, she realises that Kuni is most probably not returning. Part of her wants to search for him, and maybe the Aranara could help her, but part of her is afraid to hear his reasons for not returning. What if he says that he simply got bored and wanted to move on? What if he just wanted to travel elsewhere?

The thoughts continue to linger in her mind, even as she moves on with her days in Vanarana.

>>>

He keeps finding himself at the edge of Vanarana.

Kuni — does he really have the right to call himself Kuni after all that’s happened? Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche, Balladeer. He’s had so many names and titles that have come and gone. And in this world, where all traces of Scaramouche, with gnashing teeth and an empty heart, had already been erased… does he really exist at all?

Still, someone else had given him a name — Kuni. Not to be a country-destroyer, but rather a benevolent prince. He’d been shy when Yuzurin had first given him that name, believing it to be far too kind for him, but now, it only seems like a cruel joke.

He is no benevolent prince, far from it. Not from all the memories that he had returned to him. Now, he remembers their brief encounter before he had entered the Irminsul, and remembers what Yuzurin had been telling the Traveler back then. Of a Doctor obsessed with yokai and spirits, and being hunted down by the Fatui. Yet another person that Dottore has screwed over, he supposes.

Kuni wonders if she’s still waiting for him. It’s been a couple of weeks since he’s remembered everything, which means it’s been two weeks since he’d left Vanarana. Knowing Yuzurin, she would be worried if something had happened to him, but he can’t bring himself to return just yet. He doesn’t even know if he should return at all.

Being around her had always brought him a sense of tranquillity and peace, even before his encounter with the Traveler. It had been a simple time of collecting fresh fruits to eat from the forest, Ararycan teaching him about the various flora while Yuzurin taught him to interact with the animals that roamed it, but it had been quiet. Peaceful. And Kuni had enjoyed every second of it.

He touches the mourning flower stowed away safely in his sleeve. It’s slightly wilted, after all this time, but it’s still holding on strong — a hardy, undefeatable flower that blooms even in the desert. He had intended to give this flower to her, just as he’d promised.

Perhaps she would understand. That he is no longer part of the Fatui, and never was — not in this life, at least. He is not one of the people who had hurt her, and bears no ill will towards her. And yet, he now carries the memories of Scaramouche and Kunikuzushi, and he cannot deny that they are part of him either.

In a moment of frustration, Kuni picks up a stray fruit off the ground and tosses it into the forest. He watches it hit the grass with a soft thump. If only he could be just Kuni — Kuni alone, and no one else.

The fruit rolls over and over… before it comes to a stop, bumping lightly against someone’s foot. Frowning, Kuni looks up from under the brim of his hat… to see Yuzurin standing there, arms folded across her chest and a troubled expression on her face as she looks at him.

The two of them look at each other for a while, neither wanting to speak first. Kuni doesn’t know what to say to her. He doesn’t know what she feels towards him now, after his sudden disappearance. He doesn’t know what he wants her to feel towards him.

But after a while, the silence is beginning to grow unbearable, and so Kuni opens his mouth…

“What are you doing here?”

Yuzurin’s head snaps up, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and hurt, and Kuni instantly knows that he’s said the wrong thing. He hadn’t meant to sound so… curt, but Scaramouche has always spoken that way, and… He resists the urge to pinch his nose and groan.

He’s messing everything up. Nothing has changed in that regard, it seems.

“Ararycan mentioned that he saw you standing here for a while now, so I decided to come and see you. You haven’t returned for weeks now.” Her voice carries a tinge of unsurety, but her brows are pinched with determination. “Why did you leave?”

Now that’s a question that Kuni isn’t prepared to answer.

He can choose to lie — to say that he ran into someone he’d known during his visit to the city, to say that he’d been delayed on the way back helping someone else — and he’s quite sure that Yuzurin would believe it, because that is the type of person that she is. She had reached out to him in the midst of the pouring rain, asking him if he had a place to take shelter, and if he had a place to go. And even though Kuni might bear Scaramouche’s memories right now, he doesn’t want to do such a thing.

It wouldn’t feel right to take advantage of that kindness, all while knowing that he was part of the Fatui that had attempted to hunt her down all those years ago. And as for her kindness… Well, now that he’s gotten his memories back, Kuni doesn’t need it any longer, does he?

“I was worried about you,” Yuzurin’s voice cuts through the murky mess of his thoughts, and he looks up to see Yuzurin frowning at him. Although she still looks upset, there’s also an undercurrent of worry cutting through her anger with him.

“I don’t deserve it,” he says, his voice flat. Even now, she’s still trying to talk to him and connect with him. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t deserve it.

“I… understand, if you have more important things to do or places to go to,” it’s clear from her tone that she is still trying her best to be patient with him, “but I would have appreciated it if you could have just… let me know—”

“I’m part of the Fatui.” He cuts her off, his words sharp as a blade of wind. His teeth grind against each other, and that simple sentence seems to take unparalleled effort. He was the Sixth Harbinger and almost a god, for Archons’ sakes. He had willingly gone through unspeakable physical and mental torture at that mad doctor’s hands. Why should he care for the feelings of a woman he had barely met less than a couple of months ago?

And yet the truth is, he still does.

He finds himself looking up at her face. Trepidation flits through him as he does, and he wants to cast it out immediately. He’s beyond emotions, nothing but a puppet without a heart, and—

Oh.

Yuzurin’s eyes are wide, both hands clasped over her mouth and her knees buckling slightly. Kuni reaches out instinctively to steady her, but she recoils, taking a step back and her face going taut with terror.

“I’m not—” The words escape his mouth, unbidden, awkward, desperate, “—I am no longer with the Fatui.”

Yuzurin shakes her head sharply, taking another step back. All the colour has drained from her face, but she clenches her jaw and asks this one more question. “And were you… one of those people who hunted me down all those years ago?”

Kuni doesn’t know what to say. Even if he tells her the truth, that he wasn’t… so what? It wouldn’t change the fact that he was once part of the Fatui. It wouldn’t change his past of hurting hundreds of people in pursuit of his own goals. Trying to erase himself in the Irminsul has taught him that. He can’t escape his wrongdoings.

Perhaps it’s better that she hates him. It’s his penance.

When he doesn’t reply, Yuzurin takes a step back, and another. Until she turns around and vanishes into the treeline, not once looking back at him.

>>>

Yuzurin is running.

She’s running through the forest, pushing her way through thick vegetation and stumbling over the roots in the undergrowth. It’s foolish, really, for her to react this way. It’s been centuries since the Fatui Doctor had tried to capture her. She is a nigh-immortal being, who has lived for hundreds of years. She…

She can still see the Doctor standing there, malice dripping between the razor sharp edges of his grin, still as clear as the day that she had encountered him. He’s like a phantom that she can’t leave behind her, as much as she tries to, and—

And Kuni. Kuni is one of them. All this time, he had been one of the Fatui — and Yuzurin, like the oblivious fool she’s always been — didn’t even notice anything off about him.

Her steps start to slow, a slight burn taking over her lungs. Still, Kuni had said that he used to be in the Fatui, but had also clarified that he was no longer part of them any longer. And when she’d asked him if he had been one of those who tried to hunt her down, he hadn’t denied it, but he didn’t agree to it either…

Oh, no. Could she have possibly made a mistake?

She comes to a complete stop, her chest still heaving. If Kuni had once been part of the Fatui, but hadn’t been part of the group who kidnapped her… does he still deserve her fear and ire?

Should she… go back and clarify things? The Kuni she has known over the course of the last few weeks doesn’t seem like a person who would do such a thing. She remembers how generous he is with his time, his eagerness to help her with nearly everything that she does, and his gentleness when interacting with the Aranara…

Someone like that cannot possibly be an awful person.

Perhaps she’s being a gullible fool again, but Yuzurin wants to believe in the person that she’s known, not the person that she knows nothing about. Kuni deserves a chance to properly explain himself to her. After that, she will make up her mind on what to believe.

Just as she’s turning around to look for Kuni once more, the scent of iron suddenly hits her like a blow to the face and sends her reeling back. She looks around sharply, immediately on high alert. Humans tend to stay far away from Vanarana because of all the myths and stories surrounding it. And those who try to intrude are either fools… or don’t have the best of intentions.

Although every inch of her body is crying out, repulsed by the blood, she forces herself to head in its direction. No matter the intentions of the person in the forest, it would be dangerous to allow them to continue lingering there. If they are one of those people trying to capture the Aranara, Yuzurin will have to deal with them.

She pushes deeper into the undergrowth, nausea growing in the pit of her stomach. The stench of blood gets stronger with each step she takes, and Yuzurin is almost upon it when she realises that the smell is fresh. The Kirin in her wants to turn around and leave, but Yuzurin pushes through it, even though she can feel her limbs getting heavy and her movements sluggish.

The blood is coming from the body lying slumped in the grass. Yuzurin has to keep a hand over her nose and mouth as she races over to the person’s side, unsure if she should move the body. It appears to be the body of a young woman, dressed in robes typical of a Sumerian villager, if not for the fact that they are soaked through with blood. Yuzurin fights the urge to recoil, reaching for the woman’s shoulder instead.

Yuzurin’s eyes widen when they fall on the woman’s neck. Instead of the bite marks typically found on the tiger victims, this woman’s neck bears a long, clean slice — a wound caused by a blade. A man made blade.

Blood is still pouring from the woman’s neck, and Yuzurin presses her hands against the wound, calling upon her healing powers to stem the flow and mend the wound. No matter how much energy she pours into the injury, however, it does nothing to heal the woman. Her eyes do not flutter, and her chest does not so much as rise an inch — it is then that Yuzurin must admit that she can do nothing more to save the woman.

The blood on her palms sting as she pulls them away, but Yuzurin ignores it as she wipes the blood from the woman’s cheek with her sleeve. “My apologies, for coming too late,” she whispers, an awful, sinking feeling in her chest. If she had come just an hour earlier, perhaps this woman might not have died. That is something that Yuzurin will have to live with for the rest of her life. “I’ll bury you now so that you can rest in peace, alright?”

She’s barely managed to lift the woman’s arm when weighted nets suddenly drop from the treetops. They’re on her before she can react. The steel wires entangle with her limbs, ensnaring her within their grasp. They don’t yield in the least when she tries to struggle free.

With her usual strength, the metal would give under the slightest yank, but the blood is keeping her weak and nauseous. A trap. Of course, it was a trap. One specially designed for a Kirin — one meant to catch Yuzurin.

A sharp sting catches at her arm, and she looks down, wondering if her skin has been torn open by the net — but instead she sees the bright red feathers of a dart. A wave of dizziness immediately washes over her, and she nearly collapses before forcing herself upright with sheer force of will.

A group of men dressed in familiar blue and silver uniforms rush out of the undergrowth just as she looks up, weapons and hunting gear at the ready. Of course, it’s the Fatui. She forces down the panic rising in her chest and yanks the tranquiliser dart out of her thigh, tossing it to the side. Yuzurin needs to escape, and fast.

Throwing out her hands, she summons all the Dendro energy that she can muster into the tips of her fingers. Her hands tingle with a familiar warmth, pins and needles spiking all over her skin.

The plants around them suddenly erupt to life, a writhing mass of vines and leaves and branches responding to her call. Yuzurin sends the vines to entrap their arms and the roots to ensnare their legs, and the fruits to fly from their branches like the guns that the Fatui carry.

For a while, this works — the Fatui trapped by the plants struggle and shout for reinforcements, some dropping their weapons while others panic, but eventually the sheer number of the Fatui and her own exhaustion cause her to be overwhelmed.

They send a few more tranquiliser darts her way, one in her arm and another in her shoulder, and the last thing Yuzurin sees before everything goes black are the Fatui’s hands reaching for her.

>>>

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here.

Kuni trudges through the forest, forcing the vegetation aside as he makes his way through the dense undergrowth. He wants to think that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, wasting his time searching through the forest, but the truth is that he does, unfortunately.

Earlier, he’d thought that he didn’t care what Yuzurin had thought of him — had been determined to not care about what Yuzurin thought of him — but after she had fled into the trees, Kuni had found himself quite unable to move on from it. Not only metaphorically, but also literally.

He’d paced the forest line for what had felt like hours before deciding that he needed to put an end to this. Not that he needs to make things right, but he should, at least, try to clear up his involvement with the Fatui. Not because he wants or needs her to not… look at him with those eyes so full of fear, but because… because it is the truth.

Right. That’s why.

The bells behind swish and clang agitatedly as he makes his way through the woods. Kuni doesn’t even know if he’s on the path Yuzurin had taken, which only sets his nerves even more on edge. Will he be able to catch up with her? What if she’s trying to hide from him? What if—

A stray breeze blows through the forest, carrying a scent that is intimately familiar to him. Iron and salt and death. It’s blood.

What if Yuzurin has gotten hurt?

He’s racing in the direction of the scent before his mind can catch up with his feet. Blades of wind fly from his palms like birds of prey taking flight, ruthlessly cutting down anything — overhanging vines, overgrown branches, even hostile Fungi disturbed by the sudden commotion — standing between him and the source of the scent.

Despite the situation he’s in, the Anemo Vision glows warm and bright against his chest. Kuni shoves the thought aside at once. There are too many emotions swirling within him right now, and he doesn’t want to deal with any of them at the moment.

It doesn’t take him long to reach the source, crimson splattered grotesquely across green like some sort of abstract painting. Kuni shoves aside a branch in his face and hurries over to the body lying in the grass.

Although he already knows that it isn’t Yuzurin lying face down and bleeding out in the grass, a sigh of relief still escapes him when he turns the body over. An unfortunate woman who had ended up a tool in the Fatui’s schemes. Their plots and execution are lacking in taste, as usual. This is why he’d always preferred to work alone, as the Sixth harbinger. Kuni doesn’t know how he ever worked with these fools.

While he is glad not to find Yuzurin harmed, there is now another pressing question: where is she?

He turns left and right sharply, looking for traces of where she might have gone, when he spots a familiar token. His fingers are careful as he lifts the little silk sachet from the grass. There’s no mistaking it.

It’s Yuzurin’s. He’s seen it hanging from her antlers, memorised the inscription woven on its silk. If it’s here…

“Hey, you! Help me!”

Kuni turns around at the shout, eyebrows drawing together in vengeful annoyance. There’s a Fatui foot soldier caught in a tangle of vines, a nasty cut dripping red from his temple. His comrades must have thought him dead and left him here for the beasts to find. Perfect.

“By the Tsaritsa’s grace, thank you for your help.” The Fatui soldier is rambling when Kuni strides over to him, his steps swift and purposeful. “You wouldn’t believe what happened— there was a monster that we just had to deal with—”

Kuni lunges forward and slams the man back by the throat. The Fatui gasps and wheezes, trying to struggle free from Kuni’s immovable hold — without his hands, his struggles are fruitless. The man doesn’t even have a Vision, which makes his efforts all the more pitiable.

“You were hunting down a Kirin,” he states bluntly, his fingers so tight around the man’s neck he can see the skin starting to bruise under his touch. Good. “Where?”

“How did you know—” The man tries to make out, but Kuni shoves the Fatui back into the tree once more.

“I ask the questions here,” he tells the man, raising his other hand. Anemo energy pours into his palm, and he compresses it into a tight ball of raging gales. A shrill whistle fills the air. “And you should answer them before I lose my patience. Where?”

He wasn’t the Sixth Harbinger for having a pretty face. “There’s a lab belonging to the Second Harbinger of the Fatui,” the man gasps out, his face turning red quickly, “located at the caves nearby!”

The man had given in quicker than expected. Weak and spineless, just as he’d expected.

“Good.” He throws his hand out, and the wind gusts surge forth. The man crumples to the ground, a puppet with its strings cut. The irony.

With that taken care of, Kuni turns in the direction of the caves, the bells of his hat jingling behind him.

He needs to hurry.

>>>>

Yuzurin doesn’t know how long she’s been trapped in this cave.

The cave is completely enclosed, so Yuzurin cannot tell how much time has passed from the movement of the sun across the sky. Strange metal devices, some that hum and some that glow in strange colours, are positioned all around the cage that she is in. She doesn’t know what they are here for, but they radiate a strange energy that keeps her mind hazy.

More concerning than that, however, are the dead bodies. There are bloody carcasses strewn around the perimeter of her cage, some with fresh blood still oozing from the wounds. It seems that whoever had wanted her caught has done their research and knows what they are dealing with.

The thought of what they might want with her scares Yuzurin more than the imprisonment she is going through. She cannot stay here for a moment longer — that much she’s still conscious of, at least.

“Oi, you.” Yuzurin takes a while to identify where the sound is coming from, and when she looks up, there is a soldier standing outside her cage. He’s accompanied by a few other guards, all standing behind him at a safe distance with their weapons in their hands. The man in front of her, however, is holding a long, metal stick with strangely shaped prongs at one end. “You’re a Kirin, aren’t you? A giver of good fortune?”

Yuzurin wants to clarify that no, Kirins do not bring good fortune. Kirin are merely omens of good fortune, and have no power to bestow it on anyone, including themselves. Really. If they knew enough to trap her with blood, couldn’t they have researched just a little more to figure out that all this was pointless?

“If I could summon good fortune as I pleased,” Yuzurin mutters obstinately, glaring at the man as she struggles to stay upright, “what makes you think I would end up here willingly, hmm?

Her captor clearly isn’t too happy with her answer, before he shoves the long stick between the bars of the cage. The end of it knocks into Yuzurin’s shoulder. For a moment, Yuzurin is thinking that it would leave a nasty bruise there, when all of a sudden, white hot pain flashes through her entire body.

The pain is hot and blistering, violent streaks of lightning running up and down her limbs in pulsating waves. When the initial shock begins to wear off, Yuzurin stares up at the man in front of her in a rage, her throat raw and her cheeks wet. She hadn’t even known that she was screaming.

The cursed instrument in his hand — a device used to harness Electro energy and unleash it upon another. Yuzurin detests it.

Fury fuelling her, Yuzurin lunges forward and grabs the stick by the hand. The man holding the other end panics and tries to yank it from her grasp, but she holds firm — and brutally snaps the device in half.

A series of alarms go off in the background and the soldiers rush towards her, weapons raised, but Yuzurin pays them no mind. Instead, she turns her eyes upwards. There, high above them, are a group of large stones, loosened by a few stray roots growing underground.

Throwing a hand upwards, she sends a surge of Dendro energy towards the roots. They immediately groan to life in response, creaking and writhing as they grow at an almost explosive speed. Their movement dislodges the rocks, sending them tumbling down from high above — and they crush two of the soldiers that had been approaching the cage.

There are muffled crunches and screams, but Yuzurin is more preoccupied with the damaged lock on her cage. She rams into it with her shoulder. The door falls open, freeing her, and Yuzurin stumbles out into the room, the scent of blood thick and heavy in her nose.

The remaining soldiers rush at her, but she slams her palms against the ground and pours Dendro energy into the earth. Vines and roots spring up from all corners of the cave at once. They dart towards her attackers like snakes, coiling around their ankles and arms, before hoisting them into the air. Yuzurin can hear them yelling and screaming in the background.

She turns around to search for the exit of the cave, but before she can escape, yet another soldier charges at her. The weapon in his hands is an iron rifle, already locked in on her. Yuzurin tries to summon more Dendro energy, but her energy has already been drained dry by her escape attempt.

Yuzurin squeezes her eyes shut, expecting to hear the awful sound of a gunshot ringing in her ears. It never comes.

A sharp whistle fills the air, and Yuzurin’s eyes blink open in surprise to see a bright green slash of Anemo energy slash through the air. It’s sharp enough to cut through the weapon completely, taking half the weapon off. Yuzurin’s breath catches in her throat. Just who—

Less than a second later, Kuni comes rushing in on the wind — green Anemo energy swirling around him as though he is the eye of a hurricane. Their eyes meet, and the next thing Yuzurin knows, she’s been scooped up into his arms. He takes her outside and sets her down at the cave entrance.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, his eyes not quite meeting hers. His voice still has that sharp, biting edge — not at all like the gentle and serene Kuni that she’d known for those last few weeks they’d spent together — but now, she can hear the faint undertone of concern. “Stay here. I’ll be right back as soon as I deal with them.”

The only thing Yuzurin can do is nod mutely, still staring up at him with wide eyes. Kuni’s eyes waver for a moment when he finally meets her gaze, before he’s whirling around once again, disappearing back into the darkness of the cave.

Yuzurin closes her eyes and clasps her hands over her ears tightly. While she might be adept at fighting, it doesn’t mean that she enjoys it — far from it. She hates having to see violence of any sort, but in some cases, it turns out to be the inevitable end.

It doesn’t take long for Kuni to return, wiping blood from his hands. His name escapes Yuzurin when he nears, and a complicated expression crosses his face at it.

“You’re hurt,” he mutters, getting down onto one knee in front of her to wipe the blood on her cheek, before his expression draws into a scowl. “There’s a bruise on your cheek, and another on your jaw…” He seethes through his teeth. “Those Fatui filth.”

“Aren’t you…” she winces when his thumb brushes over an open cut, “one of the Fatui as well?”

Kuni freezes at her words, his hand still against her cheek. Before he can pull away, however, Yuzurin grabs hold of his arm, their eyes meeting. He owes her an explanation, and Yuzurin will not let him leave without it.

“I… was. With the Fatui, I mean.” Kuni’s expression is almost uncomfortable when he says this, but he presses on. Yuzurin listens with rapt attention. “But I wasn’t one of those that tried to hunt you down. I, uhm, let you go.”

Yuzurin immediately brightens at that. So he hadn’t been among the ones who had tried to capture her. And he’d let her go, in fact!

As quick as her smile comes, however, it also goes. “Then, why did you not reply when I asked you back then?”

A series of complicated expressions flit across Kuni’s face, a dance of shadows against a blank canvas. Yuzurin watches as he swallows, clenches his jaw, before he exhales, his breath just the slightest hint shaky. “I didn’t…” His voice is almost too soft to make out when he speaks. “I didn’t think I deserved it. You… Your forgiveness.”

As he speaks, he holds out his hand. Yuzurin glances down to see her omamori lying in the middle of his palm.

“Oh!” Yuzurin hadn’t even noticed that she’d dropped it. She reaches out to take the small silk bag from him, relief washing over her when she secures it to her antlers once more. There is only one of it in the world, and she wouldn’t know what to do if she’d lost it. “Thank you, Kuni.”

“I didn’t—” Kuni stumbles over his words, suddenly awkward. “I mean, it wasn’t much. It’s hardly anything worth thanking—”

Yuzurin shakes her head. “Not just for returning it to me,” she says, smiling at Kuni. “For coming to rescue me, and also for being honest with me. Thank you, Kuni. Really.”

Kuni looks around awkwardly for a moment, not meeting her eyes. “You’re welcome,” he gets out at last. Yuzurin wants to laugh — he sounds quiet and shy, much like the first time they’d met — but she manages to hold it back. “Let’s head back to Vanarana. I’ll walk you there.”

The two of them make their way back to Vanarana, where the Aranara are anxiously waiting for Yuzurin. She’s bombarded with all sorts of questions as soon as she reaches the Statue of the Seven.

“Nara Rinara is hurt?!”

“There were bad Nara in the forest!”

“Ararycan buried the Nara in the forest, with his Ararakalari,” Ararycan says as he approaches, looking up at the two of them seriously. Yuzurin suddenly feels exhausted — the fight had taken a lot out of her, and she’s missed the refreshing, purifying energy that radiates throughout Vanarana. “Nara Rinara is unharmed?”

“Just a few scratches, but I’ll be fine,” Yuzurin smiles at the Aranara. “Thank you for being so concerned, everyone. But could you give me a few moments with Nara Kuni here, please? I have a few things I need to speak about with him.”

The Aranara send glances at another before nodding agreement. Yuzurin watches as they amble back off into Vanarana, content with knowing that she’s alright. Her heart is warm in her chest as she watches them go.

“They’re very concerned about you,” Kuni mutters, and Yuzurin laughs a little, turning around to look at him.

“Come with me.”

They walk in comfortable silence out of Vanarana, up the grassy hill that overlooks the rest of the Vanarana forest. Yuzurin glances up at the giant lily-pad plants that tower over them, before an idea comes to mind.

“Catch up with me, if you can!” She calls over her shoulder, before leaping up the lily-pads with supernatural grace. The sight of Kuni’s shocked face before it’s blocked by the giant, waxy leaves makes her laugh to herself.

The sky is dark when Yuzurin reaches the top of the tallest lily-pad. She takes a moment to breathe in the cool night air, before she turns around, intending to help Kuni up the rest of the way with her vines— only to stumble back and nearly lose her balance when she sees him pop up right next to her.

There’s a glowing green circle behind him, rotating slowly as he hovers in the air. Yuzurin clasps a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart as Kuni steps lightly onto the surface of the lily-pad. “What was that about?”

“I forgot you had a Vision,” Yuzurin shakes her head, a short laugh escaping her as she settles at the edge of the lily-pad, her legs dangling off the sides. “You didn’t have one when we first met.”

“Well, things happened.” Yuzurin raises an eyebrow at his vague reply, and Kuni sighs, defeated. “I’ll tell you more about it later.”

Well, that’s good enough of an answer for Yuzurin. Kuni slowly moves to sit cross legged next to her, and the two of them watch the stars twinkle in Teyvat’s night sky together. After a while, Yuzurin speaks up.

“Thank you,” she says, and Kuni frowns at her, before turning away with a shrug. When Yuzurin tries to peer at his face, he turns away even more.

“I already told you, it wasn’t much effort,” he answers, picking at the edge of the leaf with his fingers. “There’s nothing that you need to thank me for.” Yuzurin ruminates on those words for a few moments, before she begins to speak again.

“Well, if there’s nothing to thank you, I wanted to at least apologise.” She looks over the forest, kicking her feet beneath her. “For the way I acted after you first told me you were in the Fatui. It was rash of me, and I’m quite ashamed of my own actions.”

“It was an understandable reaction—”

Yuzurin holds up a hand, and Kuni falls silent. “Let me finish,” she says gently. “I just wanted you to know that I do not hate you. Not in the least. On the contrary, I…” Yuzurin presses her lips together, suddenly shy. “In fact, I think I like you quite a lot.”

Kuni’s eyes go wide. That takes some of the edge off Yuzurin’s nerves — she’s not the only nervous one here.

“I know that you probably have other places to be, and you can’t stay in Vanarana forever,” Yuzurin continues, keeping her eyes firmly on the trees, “but if you could make some time during your journey to come visit when you’re in Sumeru… I’d be really happy to see you.”

There’s a choked sound next to her, and Yuzurin turns around to see Kuni with a hand over his mouth, looking very flustered.

“I’m not— I’m not flustered.” Kuni’s cheeks look like they are ripening, if the deepening colour of them is anything to go by. His voice is sharp and belligerent, but Yuzurin knows him better than that now. “I’ll visit if I want to. When I want to. I mean, if I want to—”

His retorts are cut off by the sound of Yuzurin’s laughter. “Really,” she says, tilting her head as she looks at Kuni, a fond expression on her face. “Where has the nice, sweet and meek Kuni that I knew gone?” Before Kuni can give another scathing reply, she just smiles. “You’ll have to tell me what happened, okay?”

Kuni huffs, his cheeks still red.

“Okay.”

>>>

Sumeru City hasn’t changed since they’d last left to visit the Pari.

Aether and Paimon make their way through the city, the traveler brushing off grains of sand from the folds of his scarf — he swears that there’s still some sand remaining in his pants — while Paimon points out every food stall they pass by. He’s thinking of stopping by Puspa Cafe for some good, strong coffee when he spots a familiar silhouette.

Scaramouche — or Kuni, Aether supposes — is standing in the shade of a general goods stall. He’s waiting, just as Aether had told him to. It’s amusing, Aether thinks, to see how Scaramouche had changed to the Wanderer, and how the Wanderer had become Kuni. He thinks that he likes this version of the kabukimono the most.

“Kuni,” Aether calls out, and the man looks up, his features immediately twisting into a scowl when he spots him. Still, he lifts the brim of his hat and walks across to him, his veil swaying behind him as he approaches.

“Where is it?” he demands shortly. Aether wants to laugh at his tone, but schools his expression into one of neutrality. Paimon, on the other hand, is not so polite.

“You’re always so rude!” Paimon scolds, crossing her tiny arms across her chest. “You should at least thank us! Did you know how far we had to trek across the desert, with sand blowing in our faces and only cactus fruit juice to drink when—”

Kuni tosses a pita pocket in Paimon’s direction. Paimon lets out a squeal of excitement and races after it, leaving a trail of stars as she goes. Aether raises an eyebrow. “You have a soft spot for her.” He remarks, as he hands his commission to Kuni.

“It’s like learning how to deal with a dog,” Kuni replies, his tone bland. Still, his hands are careful as he checks over the flower in his hands — a beautiful mourning flower from the deserts, in the brightest, most vibrant shade that Aether could find. “Here’s your payment.”

“And there’s your lady,” Aether remarks, as gracefully catching the coin pouch that Kuni drops. The kabukimono looks around wildly, before his eyes settle on Yuzurin. The Kirin is walking through the market, a basket in her hand, but when she sees the two of them, her eyes light up.

She waves brightly to the two of them.

“Go on, then,” Aether says, lightly pushing Kuni forward by the shoulders. The man swears at him, but carefully adjusts his hat before approaching Yuzurin, the Kirin smiling widely when he greets her, his flower still gripped tightly in his hand.

Aether turns away, smiling. Now that that is settled, he has other business to attend to — Paimon.

[rayhaber]

Azerbaycan, Avrupa'ya İlk Kükürt Yüklü Treni Gönderiyor

Azerbaycan’ın Zira Limanı, ilk kükürt trenini Avrupa’ya göndererek önemli bir lojistik adım attı. Bu sevkiyat, Zira Limanı’ndan Avrupa’ya yapılan ticaretin başlangıcı olarak kayda geçerken, bölgesel lojistiği canlandırma yolunda önemli bir kilometre taşı oldu. Yeniden İnşa Edilen Demir Yolu Güzergahı: Verimlilik Artışı Dubendi–Zira–Gurgen–Port Zira demir yolu hattının geliştirilmesi, ulaşım…

[massispost]

New Post has been published on https://massispost.com/2024/11/armenias-position-on-freezing-participation-in-the-csto-remains-unchanged-foreign-ministry/

Armenia’s Position on Freezing Participation in the CSTO Remains Unchanged: Foreign Ministry

YEREVAN – Armenia stated on Thursday that it has not resumed active membership in the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) despite attending a meeting in Moscow with senior diplomats from ex-Soviet states within the Russian-led military alliance. Gurgen Arsenian, Armenia’s ambassador to Russia, joined his counterparts from Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan in a meeting with Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov on Wednesday. According to a Russian summary of the meeting, the diplomats discussed “international and regional security” as well as preparations for the upcoming November 28 meeting in Astana, where CSTO foreign and defense ministers are expected to gather.…

[jgmail]

El equilibrio del poder geopolítico en diferentes momentos cronológicos. Parte 4

Por Maxim Medovarov

Traducción de Juan Gabriel Caro Rivera

Trazado geopolítico hace 1500 años

Quinientos años después, en el año 524 d.C., los polos geopolíticos más importantes del Viejo Mundo seguían siendo el Imperio Romano (ahora bizantino) y el Imperio Celeste. No obstante, el equilibrio de poder que se encontraba en los márgenes de estos imperios había sufrido cambios importantes. Durante este año no se produjeron acontecimientos de escala mundial, lo cual nos facilita nuestra laborar al estudiar «en este momento» las tendencias que estaban en auge hace mil quinientos años.

China, hace 1500 años, estaba de nuevo en un estado de guerra intestina, como lo había estado hace 2000 años y como lo había estado hace 2500 años. El imperio septentrional de Toba Wei, dominado por una dinastía bárbara nómada que hace tiempo se había chinificado, se estaba desmoronando rápidamente bajo los golpes de rebeliones internas e incursiones de los xianbi de habla mongola que venían desde el exterior. El Sur de China estaba gobernado por la dinastía Liang, cuyo emperador Wu-di empezó a acuñar monedas de hierro en 524, lanzando una ofensiva exitosa contra los Wei del Norte y tomando Pengchen. En el Noreste, el aliado de Wu-di era el reino coreano de Silla: el rey Popkhan introdujo un sistema judicial burocrático según el modelo chino a partir del 521 y, combinando los matrimonios dinásticos con el uso de la fuerza, comenzó en el 524 a conquistar la región tribal de Kaya, en el extremo Sur de Corea. En cuestión de años lograría expulsar de allí a los colonizadores japoneses del Estado de Yamato, que bajo el más bien dudoso usurpador del trono imperial Keitai pasaba por malos momentos. Muy al Sur, en la India, proseguía la desintegración y decadencia del poder Gupta. Finalmente, al Norte de China, en el curso superior del Yenisei, en el año 524 los zhuzhanes derrotaron a los teleutas, siendo este el único acontecimiento importantes de este año en el territorio de la actual Rusia y que podemos fechar con exactitud. Dos mil teleutas, que ahora viven en la región de Kemerovo, han sobrevivido hasta nuestros tiempos como recuerdo de los tiempos de aquellas campañas.

El nodo y centro semántico de todos los acontecimientos geopolíticos desde el Océano Atlántico hasta Asia Central en el 524 era sin duda el Bizancio bajo el reinado del emperador Justino. Tras veinte años de tregua se preparando una nueva guerra en contra del Irán sasánida, la cual ya estaba empezando a afectar a sus Estados vasallos. El sobrino del emperador y su futuro sucesor – Justiniano el Grande – se apresuró en el 523-524 a llegar por mar a Yemen con el propósito de ayudar a los ejércitos etíopes de Axum que se encontraban en una situación catastrófica bajo los golpes del reino judío de los himyaritas. En Najran, los himyaritas mataron a 4.300 mártires cristianos que se negaban a aceptar el judaísmo. Cabe señalar que la situación sobre el terreno no ha cambiado mucho en mil quinientos y que los husitas yemeníes invadieron recientemente la ciudad fronteriza saudí de Najran. Las guerras religiosas de esta tierra continúan siendo libradas por las mismas tribus y clanes yemeníes que son descritos en las fuentes de esta época.

Dado que los himyaritas actuaban como aliados de Irán, el sha iraní Kavad I decidió tomar represalias contra Bizancio en Georgia reprimiendo la revuelta del aliado de Justiniano, el príncipe Gurgen, y ocupando Georgia. Sin embargo, Kavad tenía problemas en su política interior, pues estaba viendo la forma de deshacerse de los comunistas mazdakitas gnósticos que lo habían llevado al poder.

Así, Justino avanzaba con confianza en el Este mientras prefería contentarse con victorias diplomáticas en el Occidente, sobre todo porque su principal vecino en Italia – el rey ostrogodo Teodorico el Grande – reconoció formalmente su dependencia de Constantinopla. En el año 525 Justino envió allí una magnífica y representativa embajada al Papa Juan I, que tuvo que pedir a Justino que cesara la persecución de los herejes, a la que pertenecían los ostrogodos. En vista de las infructuosas negociaciones, pronto llegaría la muerte del Papa en la prisión de Equinox. Mientras tanto, en el 524, otro notable prisionero de Teodorico, el último gran filósofo romano Boecio, murió torturado en la cárcel. Le faltaba poco para completar sus obras y complejos comentarios sobre silogismos de lógica, que aún se utilizan hoy en día. Después de Boecio, Teodorico envió al otro mundo a su suegro Símaco, presidente del Senado romano.

La crueldad de Teodorico se hace un poco más comprensible y explicable si tenemos en cuenta la guerra en la que se vio envuelto ese mismo año. Todo comenzó con un conflicto entre los co-gobernantes francos Clodómero, Hildeberto, Clotaro y Teodorico de Metz – los cuatro hijos de Clodoveo – en contra de sus vecinos borgoñones. El reino borgoñón se encontraba entonces al Este de la actual Francia y estaba compuesto por Lyon, Vienne y Besançon. Su rey Segismundo había estado casado con la hija de Teodorico, de la que tuvo un hijo, Sigirico, heredero del trono, pero lo había matado por instigación de su segunda esposa, la cual era una sirvienta. Teodorico tenía que vengar a su nieto, pero estaba mucho más interesado en cómo apoderarse de los territorios fronterizos de los borgoñones con pérdidas mínimas. Le encargó la tarea de vengar a Segismundo a sus hermanos francos, a quienes se les ocurrió una razón extra para invadir Borgoña: vengarse de su abuelo, que había sido asesinado por el padre de Segismundo treinta años antes.

En el año 523 los francos lanzaron una ofensiva que se adentró al interior de Borgoña, mientras que los ostrogodos de Teodorico avanzaron lo más lentamente posible, esperando recoger los frutos de las victorias ajenas a cambio de nada. Debido a este retraso, sin embargo, tuvieron que pagar una multa a los francos. En cualquier caso, el rey Segismundo y su segunda familia fueron llevados cautivos a Orleans ante el rey Clodómero. En la primavera del 524 los borgoñones se sublevaron, expulsaron a los francos y proclamaron rey a Godomero II, hermano de Segismundo. Esto obligó el 1 de mayo a que Clodómero decapitara a sangre fría a Segismundo y su familia y arrojara sus cadáveres a un pozo cerca de Orleans. Después, los cuatro reyes hermanos volvieron a invadir Borgoña, pero el 21 de junio fueron derrotados inesperadamente en Virontsia (actual ciudad de Vezerons-Kürten, en Francia, con un millar y medio de habitantes). La derrota fue culpa del mismo Clodómero que en el fragor de la batalla cabalgó demasiado lejos y fue asesinado por los borgoñones, tras lo cual las tropas de sus hermanos se retiraron desordenadamente. Las posesiones de Clodómero se repartieron inmediatamente entre sus hermanos (en concreto, Troyes, Sans, Auxrre y Limoges pasaron a Teodorico de Metz), y cinco ciudades borgoñonas, incluida Aviñón, pasaron a Teodorico el Ostrogodo, como este quería desde un principio. Fue así como las astutas artimañas de los bárbaros germanos provocaron un cambio en el equilibrio de poder en la región (sólo quedaban diez años para que se produjera el fin del reino borgoñón), afectando a su vez directamente a los intereses de Bizancio, cuya supremacía imperial formal reconocían todos estos bárbaros.

Así pues, podemos hablar de la formación de dos bloques geopolíticos en esta época. El primero incluía a los godos, los burgundios, Bizancio y Axum, mientras que el segundo incluía a los francos, los ostrogodos, Irán y los himyaritas. Muy pronto, en pocos años, la dinámica de este sistema oscilaría bruscamente cambiando el equilibrio de poder...

La guerra franco-burgundia del 524 merece ser estudiada con más atención, no sólo porque dos reyes murieron, sino también porque el joven Teodeberto, hijo de Teodorico de Metz y su futuro sucesor en el trono, muy probablemente causó grandes cambios. Teodeberto influyó indirectamente en la cultura mundial por el hecho de que un poco antes, probablemente en el 521 a la edad de 18 años, no sólo había sido capaz de repeler la primera incursión escandinava de los godos en Frisia, sino que también mató en batalla al rey godo Higelak. El poema más importante de esta época, el de Beowulf, comienza hablando de este acontecimiento histórico: «Hyne wyrd fornam, / syþðan he for wlenco wean ahsode, / æhðe to Frysum. He þa frætwe wæg, / eorclanstanstanas ofer yða ful, / rice þeoden. He under rande gecranc. / Gehwearf þa in Francna fæþm feorh cyninges / breostgewædu and se beah somod. / Wyrsan wigfrecan wæl reafeden / æfter guðsceare. Geata leode / hreawic heoldon». «El destino alcanzó al hombre amante de la libertad / dentro de las fronteras frisonas: llevando aquel ornamento al cuello / el jefe de su escuadra llegó sobre el mar, pero cayó bajo los escudos, / y con su cuerpo la coraza / fue a parar a los francos, y este tesoro / también se convirtió en presa de los más débiles / enemigos en el campo de batalla, donde muchos gautas / fueron arrebatados por la Muerte».

Fue tras la muerte de Hygelak cuando Beowulf se vio obligado a ponerse al servicio de Hrothgar, rey de los daneses, y matar al malvado Grendel y a su madre. Se cree que en el año 525 d.C., tras la muerte de Hrothgar, Beowulf se convirtió en rey, sentándose en su trono en Heoroth, las Cámaras doradas del Ciervo. Es difícil imaginar un mayor contraste cultural entre dos mundos diametralmente opuestos: en este momento Boecio escribía sus complicadas obras filosóficas sobre lógica en prisión, mientras que Beowulf arrancaba la mano a un demonio. Sin embargo, ambos acontecimientos sucedieron al mismo tiempo hace exactamente 1.500 años. Boecio era un cristiano sólo de nombre, bautizado nominalmente, pero que nunca menciona a Dios en sus escritos y que se consuela con la filosofía en prisión. Beowulf, por su parte, es un pagano que se encuentra con predicadores cristianos por primera vez en esa época (al menos tal como lo presenta el autor anónimo del poema sobre él) y especula sobre la Providencia del Dios Único, viendo su acción en todas partes del mundo. Este contraste plantea no sólo un dilema geopolítico, sino también geocultural: la elección entre la sabiduría filosófica externa de una civilización en decadencia y la sabiduría interior de un representante de la sociedad tradicional.

La armonía entre ambos caminos puede encontrarse en la milagrosa vida de Santa Brigitta de Kildare, en Irlanda, que murió a una edad avanzada hace 1.500 años, el 1 de febrero de 525. Recibió su nombre en honor de la diosa pagana Brigitta y fue elegida para salvaguardar el fuego eterno de su santuario: era hija de un druida y junto con sus amigos se convirtió al cristianismo, cambiando sus vestimentas druídicas por ropas monásticas. Al mantener el simbolismo del culto a Brigitta en forma de la cruz de mimbre y seguir guardando el fuego eterno en el monasterio, la santa dio a estos rituales un significado cristiano. Fue acogida en el seno del Señor exactamente en Imbolc, el primer día de febrero, fiesta de la antigua Brigitta, y un año después repitió este destino la alumna predilecta de Santa Brigitta llamada Darlugdach, cuyo nombre significa «hija de Lugh». Fue de este modo que el mito y la historia se encontraron y se fundieron en la luz de la gloria de Cristo. Esta es otra lección que podemos extraer del año 524/525, un momento en que el mundo era dominado por la hegemonía bizantina rodeada por débiles monarquías bárbaras y que puede hacernos reflexionar sobre el ahora.