#how time passes;; december

[frostgnawd]

✧ keep: an important part of your personality that others seldom see, that remains a vital part of who you are even if nobody knows it's there.

When he is 9,

The eyes of the governess stare down upon him as he's called to read aloud. His words don't trip over each other the way they had when he'd first arrived, tongue clumsy with the weight of a language he'd grasped odds and ends and no centers of, but they do stumble, stutter, cut off, when he meets her gaze. It's the weight of those eyes upon him that he is still not used to -- eyes free of the unique cross he will forever bear.

When he is 14,

Jean and Diluc take to presenting drills with practiced ease, as was part of the routine of the fearless Ordo Favonius, and while Kaeya had thought he'd have fully caught up to their bravado by now -- to put it simply, he hasn't. Today, again, his hand trembles as it grasps the hilt of his sword, and he nearly drops it when he swings, but at least he's started to learn to play off the laughter that inevitably comes his way. Work in progress, he tells himself. He promises the two dearest to him that he's just trying to ensure he'll never have to play leader -- I'm perfect otherwise, aren't I? -- and offers a jab about how he's certainly seen Diluc drop his claymore before to divert the subject.

When he is 17,

He stares at the church's entryway for a beat, then another, before sighing to himself and ultimately departing in favor of the Ordo Favonius barracks. There's a first aid kit there, though there's not a healer, but he's gleaned enough knowledge from the treatments he's received previously to know what he ought to do for the fresh burn that still sears the side of his face. Nobody's seen it just yet, thank gods, and he intends to keep it that way, ascot wadded up and pressed firmly to ensure the rain doesn't soak the injury. It might feel nice, but Kaeya doesn't want to know what kind of infections would come from the wrathful sky above. He makes sure to keep his head down in the hallways, and mentally works out what he'll explain to whatever captain he'll surely be shoved towards in the morning.

When he is 22,

He adjusts the garments carefully, gingerly, feeling both at home and foreign entirely in the ensemble he's been provided. Idyia calls him from her place on the stage, and Kaeya meanders out from the fitting room obediently to present his new ensemble. When so many eyes land on him, he can't help but fidget with the dressing, shifting side to side in a motion that almost looks nervous.

It seems, even after all these years, he's still terribly shy.

[unfxllenone]

December Review

Commissions: Crystallize Kokomi / AntiMatter Legion Fontaine (Ongoing) Childe / Storytelling in Liyue (Ongoing) Caelus / AntiMatter Legion Fontaine (2)(Ongoing) Venti / Storytelling in Liyue (2) (tbd) Still-Ongoing Commission Threads Welt / Swirl - Dragonspine / Ab Abysso Ad Cor (Ongoing)

Threads (General) Wanderer / Reverberations of an Ode (Ongoing) Neuvillette / What Is Shattered, Still Remains (Ongoing) Childe / Winter Amidst the Seventh Snow (Ongoing)

Asks Obscure Sorrows / Watashiato Snowball Fight / Diluc Home Decoration / Kaveh Home Decoration / Welt

1 Talent Point Gained!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Why is November blazing by so quickly STOP—

[gray-warden]

I finally passed my driving test! I can go pick up my license in 20 days :D

[sonknuxadow]

^ guy who has to draw funny hedgehogs or else they will die

[chrisbangs]

hello... (and bye ig 👋)

[aastarions]

the holiday season always has me the most nostalgic for my childhood and the traditions that have been lost to time

[martellspear]

"suddenly, it's december, and you're not seventeen anymore, and you haven't been seventeen for a very long time, but sometimes you need to remind yourself."

[dawei-s]

December

[fuckyeahelenapaparizou]

Best Greek Act - MTV Europe Music Awards 2009

[frostgnawd]

December Review

Commissions: Crystallize Kaveh // Tale As New As Time (Ongoing)

Asks Obscure Sorrows // Craxis Obscure Sorrows // Enouement Obscure Sorrows // Keep Obscure Sorrows // Rasque Mistletoe // Alhaitham Mistletoe // Childe Mistletoe // Clorinde

Threads Clorinde // Pull the Trigger, Clorinde (Ongoing)

1 Talent Point Gained!

[unfxllenone]

❄️‼️

Did you just snowball me bro

The squawk Lumine makes in response to the ice that hits her back is both tragically and comedically comparable to the sound of a falcon's cry. Just.. Far less dignified, far higher in pitch. Far more surprised, too, than a bird of prey ever should be.

Her hand covers the spot that's been bitten by cold, excess snow fluttering from her shoulder with the motion, and her incredulous glance snaps over to the only other person within a feasible vicinity to pelt her with a snowball.

Red and black and sticking out like a sore thumb at the foot of Dragonspine. Doesn't he look pleased?

There's another beat, as if to process the situation, the outcomes, the consequences that are clearly due -- and then, she rights herself, wraps her scarf up nice and secure around her neck from where it'd been freely billowing before. The motion is nothing short of determined, same as that glint in her eye.

And there she goes.

"Diluc... so you've chosen war?" She tugs at the fabric one last time, ensuring it's unmoving (for now), before crouching and hastily making her own harmless projectile for retribution. Not much prompting needed for her to engage in this battle, is there? Despite the seriousness with which she tries to present her words, that note of amusement still rings clear. "You're about to find out that I'm a very scrupulous foe."

( In which: she will chase him across the hills and slopes of Dragonspine bearing the full force of Cryo without resonation, or she will tumble into the icy waters trying. )

[somethingsomethingcomic]

deadnamed at my father's funeral

[coridallasmultipass]

Halloween costume hint:

(The stitch marker and the word that describes this colour-pattern of yarn [or fabric] are 2 more hints.)

[gatheryepens]

I can’t believe tomorrow is christmas….

[lesamis]

If a face, as Johann Gottfried Herder says, is nothing more than a Spiegelkammer of the spirit, then we should be a little frightened of Keats's variety of expressions. [...] Keats is unable to contemplate himself. His gift is not knowing how to reconcile himself. The identity of a person who is in the room with him presses in and cancels his own out in a flash. When Keats speaks, he's not sure he's the one talking.

"John Keats", in These Possible Lives, Fleur Jaeggy