#query / ic.

[fallensxvior]

"Yeshua? Chasing people with a whip?" Xaos was holding back a laugh. "I think if I see that it'd be the third best day of my life."

"Actually, Xaos..."

Yeshua began to clear his throat, trying to shake off the embarrassment. "I.. well..."

[unfxllenone]

[LANTERNS] - HE SHOULDN'T BE HERE, shouldn't be interfering with her journey, and yet Kong remains, covered by a dusty travelling cloak as he presses through the crowds to the golden hair dancing lightly on the winds like waves. It's amusing to him in a way, the sense of Deja Vu that befalls him, like he's done this time and time again in the past, and yet he knows he has not.

Still, it's eager, shaking, hands that lift the lantern to her, golden eyes that shine from beneath the hood as wordlessly the lantern is held to her in a pale mimicry of the way others hold their lantern to those they care more about. He wants to speak that terrible phrase, the words that would doom his mission to fail, and yet he can't, continuing to pose merely as a nameless, voiceless traveller until eyes are following the lanterns to the darkened skies above.

His voice is like a whisper on the wind as the crowds begin to close in around them, allowing himself to be enveloped by the awestruck peoples so that he may once more disappear into the seas before she can chase after him.

"Happy Lantern Rite... Ying"

After all the excitement of this Rite, she's eager to simply sit and enjoy the grand crescendo of it all -- the tidal wave of lanterns due to be released to the sky. Family and friends gather around her, pressing close as the crowd continues to build, and all have the delight of that warm golden glow painted on their skin as the lanterns are lit in preparation for their release.

She enjoys her role as an observer -- understands it well -- and in moments like this, she cherishes it even for as bittersweet as it is.

She she barely notices as that stranger that strides up to her, gliding through the crowd like a ghost. There's a lantern pressed into her welcoming hands, too, making her a part of this festivity, and before she can ask why, she sees who.

" Kong-- " The breathless whisper barely escapes before he does, disappearing into the crowd as though he was never there at all.

A dumbfounded moment later, and she's shoving through the clumps of bodies with desperate fervor; the lanterns break skyward, and she stumbles, clumsy, like the flightless bird she's been forced to become. She reaches forwards and fails to grasp, like their separation centuries ago. She wishes the memories she forms with him on this world would stop their near-rhythmic predictability of just can't, just missed, just beyond her, but she will not be lucky enough to break that tune tonight.

Her footfalls come to a halt at the outside of the cluster, gaze casting left and right as though she might be able to continue her pursuit, but it's pointless. He is gone. Kong is far brighter than any lantern could ever be, far more akin to the sun in the sky, and yet he evanesces with the ease of a candle snuffed. How? How?

She can't help but to be angry at him for that. To come here, to see her, and yet to remain so out of reach -- she couldn't even get a word in. Her older brother is a fool and an idiot, and, tonight, again, he'll make her cry.

... he's alive, though. Well enough to come see her, albeit briefly, and she can't help but be a little relieved at that whispered turn of her name from a familiar voice. Even if she'd barely glimpsed his face, his expression, for her, has always been so obvious -- she'd gathered much from it in that cursory sweep. Her older brother is a fool and an idiot, and he misses her terribly, as much as she misses him.

Her hand covers her heart where it beats achingly in her chest, and she releases a sigh tinged with melancholy.

The anger disippates quickly as it appeared, and all that is left is the prickling warmth from the one she cherishes so dearly. Even if it takes another hundred years, she'll keep her promise. She'll keep chasing. Again and again and again, until they're reunited like they should be.

Her voice is quiet in return, weary but sincere, like laying an oath to rest.

"Happy Lantern Rite.. Kong."

[deathsxproxy]

"I can smell the blood." (Andrew)

"Yeah well, you try scrubbing it out of your clothes with baking soda and apple cider vinegar."

[opxningtears]

Someone called Lizzie a monster? Here comes Xaos to dropkick them.

"OHMYGOD-"

And there goes the harasser, flying off the edge of a bridge at mach fuck...

"Xaos, you- you didn't have to kill the man!"

[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.

[thxripper]

Who are some of the people who've challenged you the most? Like a Nemesis, Rival or just a persistent enemy. Anyone stand out in particular?

"Well, the obvious one would likely be Henry. Considering our past, I would likely call him my first Rival. I wouldn't exist without the poor bastard- so it's safe to say he's pushed me farther than anyone."

"Then there's Shirley- daft man that one is. But a bloody good chess player and an even better swordsman- kept me on my toes for years! Bu he was so very self righteous. I had to put him down eventually- a shame.. I think if he had been a bit more humble, we could have had a good thirty more years."

"But the best I've ever had is that little huntsman who's set his sights on the Missus and I. He's a Van Helsing, so he sprouts from good blood. Clever, a skilled mage and a better fighter- and his mind keeps pace with mine so well. I think.. I'll keep him alive as long as I can."

[overcomingmxdness]

"Endings are a strange thing. You know it's coming, and yet everything ends."

( @sharpdressedreaper )

"That's the fun of it though, isn't it?"

Cipher let out a sadistic chuckle, looming close to the reaper as he spoke. "Life is so limited for mortals. Everything ends, all of them will eventually- they're so... finite. I think that makes them all the more valuable."

[the-unconquered-queen]

Because I'm seeing cakegate on my dash again, let's stir up some old drama

[sxverana]

”All they do is curse my name.”

(Vlad)

"Please. Do not let their poison taint your heart further. The ramblings of bitter mortals die on the wind as quickly as their dust."

The Draculina took knee beside her king, a pleading gaze up at him. Like a child at the feet of her father, she pleaded for sense, and for warmth to find him again.

"If they do not love you, please find some comfort in the fact that i do."

[askganondorftobadragmire]

What is your relationship with Ghirahim like?

Just hearing the name makes his blood boil, but he keeps an outwardly calm but callous appearance. It's only a question, a curiosity.

"Close before he betrayed my trust. I do not wish to speak of it, so I suggest refraining from inquiring more."

[voiderequiem]

「 @universestreasures | Yudias Velgear」 issued a challenge:

"Zuwijo?" The prince tugs at the taller male's sleeves, teal eyes looking at him with that face that was hard for the captain to ignore. "Please stay by my side till I've fallen asleep. I do not wish to be alone tonight." (From Yudias)

His place was not here. His place was to stand at the ready outside the prince's door. A job some should think be saved for someone ranked below a soldier of Zuwijo's caliber-- he had become the captain of the guard, after all. But Zuwijo had personally requested the position some time ago, and ever since it had become an integral part of his duties and routine.

Like this he could keep an eye out for the prince; keep him out of trouble, out of danger. But more than anything, somewhere along the way, he himself couldn't rest without the prince nearby-- something he'd never admit if it could be helped. Should something happen to his charge the moment he wasn't looking.......he'd never forgive himself. And a worried sleep was no sleep at all, he's come to find. He could perform best if he was well rested, and being well rested came only after he was sure the prince was at ease first.

With that in mind and heart; he had been quick to turn on his heel to take his leave after the Velgearian prince had settled into bed. Only to be stopped just as quickly, the call of his name upon the prince's tongue stopping him in his tracks before the resistance on his person could be registered.

His attention returned to other without question or hesitation, the air of professionalism surrounding the captain never one to waver. Or rather... it was never one to waver under normal circumstances, but the moment his lilac hues had locked with those teals his breath had caught in his throat-- stuck there, suffocating him until he had managed to free his own voice through a small cough disguised behind a disgruntled sort of noise. The sort of noise that was easy to mistake as a mark of annoyance, an emotion that could easily explain the difficult expression he now wore, despite that being the furthest from the truth.

❝ At your command, my prince. ❞

Without removing himself from the other's grasp he returns to his side, standing at the ready without any indication he would take a seat while waiting for the prince to fall asleep.

But he doesn't stand there quietly, no. The shifting of fabric sounding as loud as the clashing of blades as Zuwijo moves to rest his palm under that of the prince's hand that was still attached to his sleeve. His way of making sure his presence was felt by the other should they close their eyes.

❝ ...You need not be alone. ❞ A sudden say from the captain who doesn't ask for permission before speaking plainly in a softened tone; a trait between those of their ranks and positions that only they seemed to share. It was moments like this that dissolved the barrier between a royal and his guard that only the prince had been capable of creating. And Zuwijo couldn't help but fall into it, the prince's trap, each and every time. ❝ Tonight or any other night. ❞ -

[fallensxvior]

"I heard you had some choice words to say to the big bosses the other day."

"They show no remorse, Lute! None!"

His breath staggered in his chest as Yeshua paced, hands balled in his fists. Steam seemed to hover ever upward as he moved in circle after circle. One could worry he would carve a path into the marble if he kept going long enough. "At least you show some understanding of the opposition the Extermination has to my teachings, at least you recognize the fault and attempted to repent- but nooo, Sera and Adam seem insistent on defending ruthless cruelty as if bloodshed is somehow moral if it's someone you hate!"

He let out groan from the pit of his gut, punching the air with ferocity unbound- before all rage melted into a sadness of rather deep intensity.

"Lute.... Be honest with me. Does anyone actually... care? About my teachings? Or am I just a banner they can wave to justify their choices?"

[unfxllenone]

SCENE: LANTERNS

"The sky is absolutely dazzling tonight; each lantern representing a wish…each light a memorial. It's a lovely sentiment that warms the heart, ensuring none shall be forgotten…and a beautiful scene, wouldn't you agree?"

THE DIRECTOR appears, standing beside LUMINE in the small group of people releasing lanterns at the docks. The orange lights dot the night sky like stars, reflections glittering on the calm surface of the harbor. He greets his prospective talent with a casual smile, a piercing glint in his eye betraying an ulterior motive.

This particular actor had stuck out in the crowd… She's going places. He holds out a business card as part of an introduction, though it doesn't contain any further identifying information other than what he elaborates on next.

"Ah, do pardon the interruption…Mr. Reca, director. This is my first time on this set, but I can tell you've had quite the adventures here."

Her weary gaze out to sea, the way she carries herself as if there's a weight on her shoulders--one doesn't need to be a mind reader to see this actor has a story.

"Perhaps you could give me some local rrrecommendations, my dear?"

She's a little solemn, admittedly, after the earlier events. She doesn't voice it, because there are some feelings that go beyond words -- and, really, who is there to tell?

Instead, her gaze lingers out on the rippling tides that reflect the golden light above, and she dwells, despite herself.

( Which lantern is theirs? It's lost amongst the masses. She'd have to let it go anyway, so it's alright, but.. )

The sudden appearance at her side wouldn't normally catch her off guard in a place like this, but, given her reverie, it does. Her startled gaze finds the stranger beside her, and then his card, and, given it would be rude to leave him hanging, she takes it with both hands. The same earnest grasp that had accepted countless red envelopes. A blink, once, a slight furrow of her brow given how limited the information presented was (notably, it doesn't say where he's from), before she looks to meet a unique crimson gaze again.

"Is that so?" She offers, lips quirking with amusement. She's heard this line before. Fingers crossed it's for nothing too serious.

And it's not. All he wants are a few recommendations, and that is surely within her wheelhouse -- no matter her mood.

"I have quite a few. You must have a good eye, Mr. Reca." She returns, tucking the card into her pocket.

"Unfortunately, you've might've missed the Wushu dance, but I can show you a few teahouses where smaller performances are being held into the evening. Should I ask which you might enjoy most, or do you want to risk me just guiding you to what I think you'll like?"

[chronicleking]

「 @universestreasures​ | Kisara」 issued a challenge:

Her wings and tail were in full view as Kisara gazed upon him, for she had no need to hide her true self before him when they were here. She pats the white fabric of her gown on her lap, an invitation for Seto to join her and relax in her lap. The dragoness could see something hidden in his radiant blue eyes, something that singled a deep concern. "Tell me what ails you, my dearest." (From Kisara, Nobles UwU.)

He doesn't relax, even as she comes into his full view. His shoulders remain squared and his gaze remains one carved from ice. A harsh expression to most who found themselves exposed to it, but to Kisara... she always managed to see past his frigid exterior-- Treating the glass surrounding his heart as if it were more akin to that of a window than the mirror he viewed it as.

--An opaque mirror which reflects that of the world around it, the beauty and misery of it all, and keeps it out. Or a crystalline window which allows the light to pass through it to combat the darkness sealed within.

Either way; the glass cracked before Kisara's silvery-toned voice.

It was a dangerous weapon. One that only the maiden could wield. One that could destroy him at any moment should she so choose.

He stops in his tracks the moment she spoke, as if he dares not to overshadow the tune with the echoing of footfalls. A few seconds pass before Seto responds in kind-- only after the lingering vibrations in the air settle completely.

❝ Shouldn't you know by now? I don't bring my business back into your bedroom. ❞

The words he speaks are cold in nature, but the voice that delivered them told a slightly different tale. To the untrained ear it was easy to miss, but for those close to him they knew it was Seto's way of acknowledging concerns without completely invalidating them through blunt rejection.

He just... rather not talk about it right now. Not when Kisara's inviting gesture drew him in so.

...It's not information he rather her be privy to either. Considering the weight of what's just been thrown upon him. But he can't just hope for her to drop the matter so easily. Had it been anyone else he would have had just told her to forget it and let him be.

❝ ...Those old geezers, ❞ Mentioning them at all should spell out his troubles. The elders have been nothing but troublesome since the moment Seto's memories burdened him. Not only do they cause him to struggle at every turn with his rise to power, now they're trying to use him as a bargaining chip! HIM! If they think they can do such a thing without retaliation on his side then they were sorely wrong. ❝ I'm going to change the way things are run around here, I swear it-- ❞

The coat hanging off his shoulders slips off with ease, the lustrous fabric flowing into rippled piles on the white tiled floors. It was if a waterfall had just run dry-- beautiful as it's last drop fell before then revealing all the uglied jagged dangers that lay beneath it's surface. Seto was much the same. All the bright whites of the surface of his world couldn't begin to bring light to the darkest parts of himself.

At least, That was what he once thought. That was until he had met Kisara, who's light threatened to obliterate him completely if he wasn't careful when basking in it.

When he lowers to his knees before her it's with great care despite how his body argued with him to simply accept her and trust the weight of it all to her; his troubles as well as himself. Instead he first places his hand atop her own, welcoming the warmth of her skin that came at a great contrast given how cold to the touch she appeared to be.

A beauty, carved of marble and ice.

How part of him wished to preserve her seemingly delicate nature, despite knowing very well how wrong that perception of her was. The other part of him knew better than anyone-- That she was not as fragile as this form would lead most to believe. But knowing that wasn't enough for Seto.

It didn't matter if he could believe in Kisara's power. It didn't matter if he could trust in her or Mokuba to protect themselves. With the way things were now none of that mattered. It was only a matter of time before something outside his control would happen again-- And with the recent announcement of his arrangement resounding inside his head and heart it was becoming clear. Now more than ever.

He couldn't sit around and wait any longer, he had to start pushing back against these ridiculous traditions. He wasn't going to remain a pawn on someone else's playing board forever. He was going to become a king-- The King of Kings of this land and do more than return it to it's former glory. He was going to usher in an entirely new age; one where Kisara could once again spread her wings outside the walls he had built around her. As his eye finally locks his gaze with her own his mumbling rant changes into something full of resolve.

❝ --I swear it. On my very life. ❞

It's only then that he seems to relax all at once. As if an incredible weight was finally withdrawn from his shoulders as he finally accepts Kisara's invitation to lower his head down onto her lap. But even this seemed more like a deep bow-- a sealing of a promise-- than anything. -

[bookwyrminspiration]

attempting to connect the thunder saga to acod but i haven’t reread it lately and my brain is tired what are your thoughts???

Mulled over this for a few days and I'm thinking perhaps we can tie Ody's arc in Scylla/Mutiny to Thaena's warping idea of what being a guardian means.

Odysseus decides 6 men is a sacrifice he gets to make alone, as Thaena thinks the destruction of the Vané nation is worth buying time and that she can force that call. "Give up your honor and faith," like how being a Guardian becomes so distorted from its original purpose she's appoints herself master of who lives and dies. Literally. "We must do what it takes to survive" as her justification--she's saving humanity, so anything towards that end is excusable or necessary.

And as Eurylochus cannot abide that and stabs Ody in the back, Teraeth stabs and kills his mother. A parallel to "then you have forced my hand," because he literally had no other choice but to die and take a nation with him. Neither of them wanted to, but they had to. Because "there is no price he won't pay."

We could also tie that to Relos Var I suppose--man, Thaena would hate how similar they are. The justification and impossible prices he'll pay.

I'm sure there's other ties that can be made, but that was the first one that came to mind

[frostgnawd]

🎄

tw: alc mention || @currentlyoffwork

" Now look who's all by his lonesome! "

Kaeya grins at the stranger who's settled himself in a corner, content to read his book despite the not-so-peaceful-quiet of the tavern's patio. But then Kaeya notices the headphones the stranger dons; a blink, once, twice, and he taps the side of his head, mimicking the position of the earpieces, as if to ask if he's currently being tuned out.

And then, whether he is or isn't, he points upwards -- stares, for a beat, until he's certain the other has noticed the mistletoe above them too.

There's a half-hearted shrug (mostly because one hand holds a very precious goblet of wine he cares not to spill) as if to say it can't be helped, you know.

" But don't worry-- " Kaeya promises, elbows pressing onto the table for support. " I'll hardly disturb you. "

And he actually keeps to his word -- Alhaitham doesn't even have to put down his book, because Kaeya just presses a kiss on the hand holding up whatever esoteric novel he's indulging himself in. Something on Deshret, Kaeya vaguely notes.

His eye crinkles as he peeks over the cover of the book, and when he pulls back, the rest of his expression looks just as playfully smug. As if he's actually accomplished something here.

" Thank you for sharing the moment, friend ~! " And with that, Kaeya turns on his heel, offering little more than a wave over his shoulder as he disappears into the crowd again.