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m1d-45 · 2 years ago

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if my favorite characters wanted to kill me i would simply let them. my only request would be that they do it from up close so that their pretty faces get to be the last thing i see <3<3<3

on broken bones

a/n: you…. you are my target audience.

(P.S: please note that the full fic was too long for tumblr! this will be in 3-4 parts, but dw, they’re all already mostly written!)

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for liyue archon quest, the most minor of spoilers for mondstat’s archon quest, you are literally about to die, and do so but it’s ok i get revived, uhh blood mention but no gore, imposter au things yk? reader is Down Bad for zhongli at one point

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3

< masterlist > || next part >>

you never had the highest level of self-preservation.

when you’d come to teyvat, the world seemed so kind, so you never learned to fear it. bugs never stung, any allergies you had never really acted up besides a sniffly nose, and the sun never burned. if you tripped, you landed softly, in the hands of grass that would never dare to harm you, and a breeze swept by the soothe the sting of your palms. the wind carried you down from high places, the water always keeping you afloat, the entirety of the natural world at your side.

or, rather, nearly the entirety.

despite wandering constantly, it took a few months to actually run into anybody. in fact, the only way you knew you were in teyvat at first were the sunsettias, and the hilichurls when you finally came across one of their camps. you have a feeling the dense forests and overgrown paths knew something you didn’t, looking back on it.

maybe you should have listened.

you stopped in the middle of a well-worn path of yours, stilling the sweet flower you were twirling in your hand. a few feet ahead, a stunned amber mirrored your look of shock, though her recognition was tinged with something more… bitter.

“amber?”

the bowstring in her hands doesn’t lose its tension. “greetings.”

that’s not the knights’ prescribed greeting, your mind says. you tell your mind to shut up, because that’s not what you should be thinking about when you’re looking at amber.

you wave, trying for a smile, and emotions you can’t catch flash over her face in rapid succession.

“how do you know my name?”

whoops. “who hasn’t heard of the knights of favonius?”

“those from other lands.” for being so young, her voice is so tired. she sounds like she’s barely 18, yet she’s so worn out… nobody this young should be so exhausted.

after a moment’s thought, you step forward, extending your flower-

her arm moves faster than you ever could, raising, aiming, and letting the arrow fly before you can blink. her shoulders are tense, her chest barely moving despite how harshly she breathes, arms still posed around her bow.

it’s only then that you’re aware of the white-hot pain in your throat, the sting of icy numbness swiftly taking its place.

the sweet flower falls to the ground, your body soon following.

when you wake up, the first thing you do is press a hand over your throat, but all you feel is the chill of your own skin. no arrow. no blood. you check your shirt, but there’s no blood there either.

it’s like it never happened. but you know it did.

still keeping a hand to the area, you sit up, ignoring how your body protests. you’re in another field, unsurprisingly, green grass and blue skies and red birds all around. it’s hard to believe that your run-in with amber wasn’t a dream.

even if you know it wasn’t.

you rise shakily, feeling very much so like you’re relearning your body. how to stand, how to dig your fingers between the sections of bark on a tree so you don’t fall, how to breathe when it feels like all the air in your lungs was in a race to get out. still, you breathe.

still, you stand.

still, you move on.

the earth seems angry.

looking out from the jade chamber, this is clear. the skies are an irritated gray, billowing clouds heavy with rain. they had come from nowhere, suddenly washing in from the north in with no warning, but a single drop has yet to fall. the ground occasionally shakes, enough to make leaves quiver, but no earthquake has come. it’s odd, like the very rock is holding in its breath, waiting for the trigger to let loose what is certainly disaster upon the land above it.

even the tianquan’s gems, normally large, sterling rocks swirling around her fingertips, refuse to answer her call. as she flips over a small coin of amber, the most she’s been able to summon, she wonders why.

one of ningguang’s many assistants comes out of the chamber, telling her that keqing has a report for her, and she tells them to send her out with a wave of a clawed finger. normally, she’d come inside—normally she wouldn’t be out here to begin with—but this… oddity in the landscape has her attention.

the door behind her silently slides open and shut, the clicks of the yuheng’s shoes the only indication of her presence.

“it’s odd to see you outside at such an hour, my lady.”

it’s midday.

“what is it, keqing?”

“this letter came in for you.”

an envelope enters her periphery and she takes it, careful not to damage the paper as she inspects the wax seal. it bears the insignia of the favonian knights.

“that’s hardly a rare occurrence.”

“indeed, but this one carries significant importance.” she takes a breath, an explanation on her tongue, but it dies. she knows she shouldn’t let her biases get in the way of the tianquan’s work, but this situation feels so wrong. her vision burns at the back of her neck despite her attacks doing less damage, the electro that dances across her skin hurts more than it should. it’s wrong, horribly so, but she needs to-

“keqing?”

she meets the tianquan’s eyes. ruby red dissecting her every move, and keqing is quick to look away.

“apologies, my lady. as i was saying…”

the dead refuse to rest.

they have always been unruly, leaving behind legacies and lingering feelings, leaving the living and letting them deal with it. what would be known as the wangsheng funeral parlor was established to battle these lingering debts, and it seems that even after 77 generations, the current director still has to pick up that mantle.

she’s felt it all day. the rowdiness of the undead, the spirits dancing and twirling around where they shouldn’t be. her soul told her there was one too many around, and so she had set her mind on going.

the director adjusted the flowers in her hat, watching in annoyance as her consultant thought over her words. she thought the answer was quite simple, and had rushed to fix the problem, but he was adamant that she explain herself first.

“and you’re certain?”

hu tao groaned, squeezing her eyes shut so they wouldn’t roll. “yes, i’m certain! surely youve noticed too, or is that vision for nothing?”

a glimmer of irritation crossed zhongli’s calm eyes. “this is a matter of utmost importance, director. the dead refusing to die is a serious issue.”

“you think i don’t know that? i run a funeral parlor-“

“director-“

“no. i’m going to wuwang hill, and all i need you to do is take care of the parlor while i’m gone. that’s it.”

“director, please. you cannot throw yourself into dangerous situations and expect me to sit by idly.”

“what are you, my dad?”

“i would hope not, as your father is currently deceased.”

in the gaping silence that followed, hu tao couldn’t decide if she was more shocked at the fact that he brought up her father’s passing, or that he had borderline joked about it.

zhongli cleared his throat, the only sign of apology she would receive. “i will go alone if i must.”

“you want to go-“

“indeed. i cannot allow you to venture into such an unsafe area on your own, and i myself wish to find the answer to this. if you cannot find anybody to run the parlor in your stead, then i will simply go alone.”

names and faces of employees ran through her head, options brought up and discarded quicker than any decision she’s ever made before. something in her soul demanded she go to wuwang hill, her pyro vision an insistent press between her shoulder blades, urging her to leave zhongli and just go. it was illogical, irrational, and she knew that if he saw he’d be worried and when all she needed was to simply leave-

a name emerged from the clutter.

“ferrylady.”

though his jaw ticked, zhongli nodded.

wuwang hill itself is uneasy.

zhongli has seen many things during his lifetime, but few of his memories could compare to this. the ground quivered underneath his feet, only truly steadying where he, as the lord of geo, stepped.

in truth, he had felt the same disturbance as hu tao, but had wanted to preserve his reputation as zhongli, ignoring the cold sting in his soul from where his gnosis used to be. his plan was to go after hours, when the dark could shadow his form, but now that he was here he was glad he didn’t.

the forest’s canopy was denser than usual, it seemed, barely any light filtering through the leaves. the will-o’-the-wisps shone brighter and more frequently than normal, and not a hilichurl was in sight. it was strange, unnerving to walk the familiar path, and he found himself prepared to summon a stele at any moment. the air itself felt tense, his element not resonating right.

how can stone feel hollow?

hu tao stepped closer to him, eyes uncharacteristically wide as she looked around. “why does it feel so… empty?”

he moved a hand to her back, urging her on faster. “i don’t know, ms. hu. please, do hurry.”

her fingers play with the tassels on her shirt as she walks, speeding up at his side. she’s always been fond of the macabre, but this… this isn’t that. this isn’t slow and sticky, raw honey made of skeleton bees that drips through bones and pulls at the hair atop skin, this isn’t the abrupt hit of symbolism or the stop of a heart as you’re face to face with a corpse, the smell of rotting flesh mixing with the bile climbing up your throat.

this is sharp. angular. a spike with every step she takes on the familiar dirt, thorns clinging to the lining of her lungs and digging in to hide from the chilling air. the sense that she doesn’t belong here, that she should leave, is steadily growing in response to the drive to keep walking, and she wonders if and when it’ll balance before tipping over. regardless, she keeps walking, steeling her spine and forcing assuredness into her walk.

besides her, zhongli isn’t doing much better. the air reeks of the sweetness of the divine, and the thundering in his heart matches, but here? of all places? he knew his god—he prided himself on it—and knew that they didn’t like places like this. and the feeling of wrongness, the stone beneath him seeming to slip under his feet and forcing him to walk quicker to make up for it, the claws of tree branches and roots of bushes somehow larger than before. as they approached the stone steps, he didn’t know what to expect, for once. he was unsure whether to be on edge, or to scold himself for being tense over nothing.

surely, he thought, rounding the corner, it couldn’t be nothing?

you watched the water ripple from your safe spot on the edge of the stone path cutting through it, smiling at the way the fish followed your hand when you hovered it over the surface. they were beautiful, some kind of koi by the looks of it, and certainly not what you expected.

when you recognized the wisps of wuwang hill, you had initially been afraid. it was dark, even during the day, and filled with monsters. not to mention it held the barrier between life and death, something you were not keen on ever getting close to. but as the shouts of the qingce villagers echoed in your ears, you decided it was the safest option, at least for the moment.

and it was. there were no hilichurls, no cicin mages, and the wisps seemed to float alongside you, lighting the way for a while before another came up and took over. they’d guided you to the domain, whose stone was shockingly warm. it was the crimson witch domain from what you remember, so that checked out, but for it to physically affect the stone…

you wondered what the archaic petra domain would feel like if that were the case. could stone feel more stone-like? if you were to somehow break off a chunk, would it do more damage than a regular rock? would that even count as geo damage?

you let your hand trail across the water, feeling scales bump against the pads on your fingertips with another smile. you wondered where they got their food, as the pond seemed both shallow and fairly barren, but there seems to be more and more greenery as you look. were your eyes adjusting to the light better, or were they the kinds of plants that only bloomed under certain conditions? but no, that would be for flowers, not-

“who are you?”

the harsh voice makes you jump, the fish jerking back before crowding the water near where you’ve fallen over. your surprise nearly made you fall in, but as you see who’s approaching you, you think that might have been better.

boots stomp over the stone that’s been your tentative camp, not stopping until they land toe to toe with yours. eyes carved from cor lapis glare down at you, cutting any argument you may have had to shreds.

yes, partly because zhongli is intimidating, but…

lighter shoes click and draw your attention, but you don’t get to turn your head far before you’re met with the pulsing black and gold point of vortex vanquisher.

“do not interest yourself in that which is out of your reach.”

oh.

you swallow in attempt to remedy the sudden dryness in your throat, following the handle of the polearm up to meet his eyes once more. his eyeliner looks sharper than on his in-game model, you note, and he has an earring, the golden jewel on it a perfect complement.

his eyes narrow, the set of his jaw making you think he’d sneer if he were anybody else. he rips his polearm from the stone besides you, “what could you possibly be looking at?”

you know this is it. you know exactly why he hasn’t spun his weapon back around, you knew it from the moment his sunset gaze fell upon you. so.. why lie?

“you’re beautiful,” you whisper.

and for the second time that week, you die.

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alagaesia-headcanons · 2 years ago

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I love that Nasuada's major flaw is the same as one of Galbatorix's greatest flaws, and that it gets worse and more ingrained throughout the series. And it's so compelling because it's incredibly in character for her and there's every reason for the circumstances to perpetuate and exacerbate it, but that doesn't make her flaw any less egregious. The scene where Galbatorix compares the two of them is so fascinating because his intention is very manipulative and malicious, yet the statement itself isn't entirely untrue.

Because Nasuada treats people like tools. She considers a person's utility more important than anything else, including their personhood.

And it's such an engrossing flaw because of course Nasuada treats people like tools! She is proud and powerful and stubborn and noble and utterly committed to achieving what she has set out to do, by whatever means necessary. She will use whatever she has at her disposal to reach her goal, and that includes using the people around her. Of course, this doesn't make Nasuada inherently immoral; she cares deeply about justice and protecting her people. But her views on the individuals around her are impersonal and self serving.

And the goal she's trying to achieve is to win the war. Nasuada would never be pushed out of her ways by the circumstances because they work, the way she treats people accomplishes exactly what she intends. By its nature, the bloody act of war rewards using people like tools. It demands that, even; to a certain extent, it's an ugly necessity in war, but the thing is that Nasuada doesn't see it that way. She never struggles with or grieves over the need to consider people's individuality as secondary to their function. It comes naturally to her, and it lasts through the end of the books, when the war is already over.

Because I think the most flagrant example of this is at the very end, when Birgit intercepts Roran as he's leaving, presumably intending to kill him, and Nasuada says, "He has proved himself a fine and valuable warrior on more than one occasion, and I would be most displeased to lose him." It's such a wonderful, pointed line that perfectly sums up this aspect of her character. Because what a disgusting thing to say. Especially for the queen of all Alagaesia, perfectly positioned and empowered to stop this confrontation and declare it unjust if she cared to. But her words make no attempt at all to defend Roran as a person, only his value to her.

The way she uses others I find most evident in her treatment of Roran, Murtagh, and Elva. The way she tells Eragon that she thinks of giving Katrina a dowry as a "purchase" of Roran's goodwill and loyalty. In Uru'baen, only at great length, she makes the conscious choice to ignore Murtagh's past and only judge who he is in the present, but disregards any care for what that might say about him as a person, solely focused on if he could be useful as an ally. And when Eragon offers to revert Elva's curse, the one that condemned an infant to feel every piece of pain and suffering surrounding her, Nasuada is so fixated on Elva's utility and value to Nasuada's goals that she goes so far as to ask Eragon to fake his effort to cure her. She sees people as tools to such an extent that she can't recognize that relieving an innocent baby of unimaginable, cursed agony should come before her own priorities.

#guys i LOVE her #its SUCH a good character flaw im obsessed with it #eragon #inheritance cycle #nasuada #roran #elva #murtagh #pretending nasuada is entirely good natured is so boring i swear #she is passionate and heartfelt #but she is also Fucked Up sometimes #seriously tho those moments i mentioned always hit me like 'wow babe wtf is wrong with you???'#her nuance *chefs kiss*#she has the range #(also tbh. big reason why i think she and murtagh wouldnt work out together. this would cause A Lot of pain. too much.)

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